Traveller's letter #4: A day in the rubble
And how food and food culture is part of the way back to a sense of normalcy.
This is the fourth in a series of traveller’s letters from a recent trip to South Eastern Turkey. If you’re wondering if you missed last week’s newsletter, you didn’t. Writing this post took a lot more time than I thought, so I skipped last week’s free newsletter. I’ve linked the entire series at the bottom of this post, in case you missed or want to revisit any of the earlier ones.
⚠️ A word of warning: This newsletter features stories and pictures from an area that’s still very much an earthquake disaster zone.
A day to remember
Three days.
That’s how long it took for the rest of the world to move on. On the ground, there were still people waiting in front of every collapsed building, hoping against hope for a miracle in the biting cold. It would still be another week until the last survivor was miraculously pulled out from underneath the rubble.
Yet, my journalist friends tell me, this is when the public stopped reading their reports. Three days after the earthquake.
Though unbelievable for those of us with a connection to the area, it’s perhaps sensible. With news travelling at the speed of light from every corner of the world, we can’t fully engage with each disaster – even very big ones. Distancing yourself may not be the worst thing to do.
For me, that was never an option.
I’ve visited the areas that were the hardest hit on many occasions before the earthquakes. I’ve developed a deep affinity for its people, food and culture. Through people close to me, I also got a front row seat to the relief response to Hatay.
For those unfamiliar with the region, Hatay is Turkey’s southernmost province, bordering Syria to the east and south, and the Mediterranean to the West. It’s shortest border is with the rest of Turkey, in the north. The region has close historical ties with Aleppo, and controversially became a part of the Turkish Republic in 1939 after a brief period of independence. It’s history and culture is incredibly rich, going back to the early days of human civilisation – and it’s remained a respectful home to minority cultures in the age of homogenisation.
And perhaps not least, for our purposes: It’s home to an incredible food culture that blends the best of Middle Eastern and Turkish traditions.
No wonder I love the place.
Though my visit to Gaziantep was long overdue and certainly part of the plan, the main purpose of our trip was to go to Hatay. The morning after our eventful day in Gaziantep, my partner and I got in the car and headed south, bracing ourselves for what we were about to see and experience, six months after the earthquake.
A first glimpse of the earthquake’s might
A roundabout at the outskirts of the town of Nurdaği connects us to the main road south, but also gives us a glimpse of what we’re about to see a lot of during the day.
From a distance, the roundabout appears to be set in a bright, open space. As we approach, it’s clear this didn’t use to be the case. Six months ago, we’d be surrounded by blocks of high rises. Now all that’s left is bright grey rubble.
As we exit, another sight that will become familiar throughout the day. Row after row of tiny, non-descript rectangular containers. Makeshift container villages that have been homes to displaced locals for months. This particular container village is set on a large open land, but later in the day we’ll see many such container villages literally built on rubble, with pieces of walls and windows visible here and there. constantly reminding everyone they’re not walking on random rubble. I can’t even begin to imagine the trauma of living in such a place.
Before long, we see places that have already reached the next stage of rebuilding. Entire new neighbourhoods of large high-rises, mostly built outside the old, now mostly collapsed, towns.
If you follow Turkish politics and wondered how the President maintained his support in the earthquake area, I suspect this is at least part of the answer. While the initial response was criticised to the point of the President apologising publicly, the construction work started swiftly. Many of the new buildings we see are so far along they must’ve been started well before the May election. It’s hard to think of a more concrete (sic) election promise.
A million stories
We meet many people during the day. At a tea house where we stop for a break, with our friends and their family members. The conversations often start with the general topics of the day – the cost of living, the summer heat, the election. But before long, they all move on to the elephant in the room. The earthquake.
The stories are many and harrowing, and I suspect we don’t even get anywhere near the worst of it. This is not a people that burden others with their own struggles.
I’m not going into the stories and traumas that these people will carry with them, or the many difficulties surrounding the clearing up and rebuilding. This newsletter isn’t the right vehicle for that.
There’s one story I want to tell you, though. About how the food and food culture has played an important role in getting back towards something resembling a new normal.
The healing power of food culture
Immediately after the earthquake, most were in shock and struggled to adapt. Uprooted from their homes, they suddenly found themselves in a very different place – many in cities they’d never even as much as visited before. They’d lost more family members and friends than they could fathom, some were still missing. The days were filled with grief and news of loved ones lost.
For many, cooking was the first thing that managed to divert their thoughts away from what had happened. Much of Hatay food require quite a bit of manual labour, and is often prepared in big batches by a group of women together.
As their hands again touched a dough, or hollowed out a casing for oruk (a type of içli köfte/kibbeh), a different kind of conversation ensued. Some even smiled, for the first time in days, weeks. They probably complained about the quality of the ingredients in their new home (the meat of Hatay in particular is known for its superior quality), but, for a short while, they felt something resembling a sense of normalcy again.
As we enter the road that takes us around Antakya, the capital of Hatay, we come across another sign of life coming back.
The city centre was completely destroyed by the earthquake. With it, the city’s famous market Uzun Çarşı (“The long market”), a market so old and historic no one quite knows when it started.
A week or two before we arrive, a few of the stalls from the market have reopened in a new location at the outskirts of the city. At the entrance, a big banner reading “Uzun Çarşı”. The historic buildings that once hosted the hundreds of stalls have been replaced by containers, but the shopkeepers and produce are the same.
It’s a glimmer of hope, a small symbol that the road to recovery has started. We’re told a few other shops and restaurants have also reopened in the past few weeks – the first since everything closed down after the earthquakes.
In the evening, our friends take us for a drive all the way down to the coast. They want to take us to one of their favourite places, a restaurant we also visited when I came here for the very first time in 2017. The restaurant building, along with its entire neighbourhood, collapsed in the earthquake, but has just re-opened in a new location a few kilometres away. Our drive there goes past countless container villages and a field hospital still functioning as the local hospital, after the old one didn’t survive the earthquake.
It feels strange to write this, but it was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. I don’t have many pictures of it – other things were more important during that meal. But the memories of the perfectly grilled aubergine, slightly spicy prawns and the freshly baked pide bread still linger.
Looking around, it’s obvious that many people still find it hard to enjoy themselves. Things will never be the same, and it’ll probably be years before the area has much life to speak of.
Yet, the re-opening of places like this, as well as the market, is a small, but important, step towards a more “normal” life again.
As a departing gift, our friends give us a small bouquet of herbs and small flowers from their garden – a common farewell gift in the area. Beautifully fragrant green shots whose symbolism couldn’t have been more poignant.
Next week: A look back at previous visits to Hatay
I’m rounding off this series of traveller’s letters next week with a look back at previous visits to Hatay, before the earthquake quite literally changed everything.
⭐️ NEW RECIPE
Öcce (Turkish herb fritters)
Öcce are light and delightful fritters traditional to Gaziantep and the wider South Eastern Turkey. I’ve eaten many versions of them, but only tried my own hand after this trip. It won’t be the last!
It took a few attempts to get them right, though. As with any fritters, the key is as much in the method as in the ingredients. But I finally found a perfect version!
The recipe includes all the tips for getting the batter and cooking just right. I sent it to paying subscribers last week, and as with every recipe I’ve published on this newsletter you can find it on the website:
Not a paying subscriber? Upgrade now for instant access to this, earlier and future paid subscriber-recipes.
🔜 COMING THIS WEEKEND FOR PAYING SUBSCRIBERS:
Ma’amoul (Kömbe) – Date cookies
Best known as ma’amoul and popular throughout the Middle East, they’re also found in the South Eastern courner of Turkey, where they’re known as kömbe. Made from semolina and dates, they’re a delicious treat with a cup of tea or coffee.
This recipe will be for paying subscribers and will hit your inbox over the weekend.
Did you miss the previous letters in this series?
You can always find everything on the website, and below are direct links to the letters and recipes.
