Life in the aftermath of Turkey's worst earthquake in decades

The government has vowed to rebuild cities within a year, but the future for villagers and farmers in rural areas is less certain. Already struggling with the loss of jobs, animals and loved ones, they now fear displacement from the land they’ve called home for generations.

After almost three months of being home­less, Turk­ish vil­lagers liv­ing along the fault line of South­east­ern Ana­to­lia are jug­gling the fear of dis­place­ment and the desire to rebuild their land. Some still live in front of their dam­aged hous­es, feel­ing stuck between the mem­o­ries of the past and the uncer­tain­ty of the future.

Spread over ten Turk­ish provinces of indus­tri­al areas, lit­tle towns and remote vil­lages, the earth­quake affect­ed a pop­u­la­tion of 10 mil­lion, among which over 3 mil­lion are dis­placed, around 1 mil­lion fled to the west of the coun­try, and approx­i­mate­ly 2 mil­lion live in camps of tents or con­tain­ers. Thou­sands of build­ings have been inspect­ed to deter­mine the lev­el of dam­age. Accord­ing to the government’s plan, over 200,000 units will be built across the region with­in one year under the super­vi­sion of TOKI, the Turk­ish pub­lic author­i­ty for con­struc­tion, in order to guar­an­tee quake secu­ri­ty code standards.

In Nurdağı, a town in the province of Gaziantep, small settlements of tents and makeshift shelters are currently home to many displaced families that lost their houses after a 7.8 magnitude and a 7.6 magnitude quake hit Southeastern Turkey and Northwest Syria on February 6th.

In the province of Gaziantep, a large man­u­fac­tur­ing dis­trict, lit­tle towns such as Nurdağı and Islahiye in the dis­as­ter zone are expect­ed to be rebuilt in slight­ly dif­fer­ent loca­tions in order to avoid future risks. It is still uncer­tain what will hap­pen to the set­tle­ments of vil­lagers, farm­ers and ranch­ers spread all over the area. As their iden­ti­ty is deeply root­ed in the land they have been liv­ing on their entire lives, pres­sure aris­es due to the pos­si­bil­i­ty of fac­ing eviction.

For 20 years I’ve been col­lect­ing sav­ings to final­ly buy a house for my fam­i­ly. I wish I spent that mon­ey to pro­vide instead a bet­ter life for my sons and to pay for their stud­ies,” says Ali, a retired munic­i­pal­i­ty work­er. As the ground start­ed shak­ing on the night of the 6th of Feb­ru­ary, Idil, Ali’s wife, for­got her glass­es while rush­ing down the stairs. By the time her hus­band recov­ered them from the build­ing, her view of the place where they had built their life togeth­er was com­plete­ly changed.

All around col­lapsed build­ings, their house still stands, car­ry­ing the X‑shaped cracks vis­i­ble from out­side. Their tent is placed just a few meters away in a small camp shared with oth­er 20 fam­i­lies. Ali’s old­er son, Ahmet, lives in a tent next to his par­ents with his fam­i­ly. The phar­ma­cy he was work­ing for, the only one near­by, col­lapsed dur­ing the first quake, leav­ing him job­less. He is now con­sid­er­ing farm­ing to sup­port his family.

On the right, a view of Nurdağı, a town in the province of Gaziantep, from the window of Ali’s (62) and Idil’s (56) house that was damaged during a 7.8 magnitude earthquake followed by a second 7.6 magnitude quake that hit the region on February 6th. On the left, the small communal laundry set up by Ali and a neighbour in his garden just next to the settlement camp of tents and makeshift shelters where many displaced families from Nurdağı currently live.

The quakes also affect­ed sur­vivors’ lives in the long-term from an eco­nom­ic and demo­graph­ic per­spec­tive. Like Ahmet, many vil­lagers were made unem­ployed by the quake, and decid­ed to tem­porar­i­ly move to oth­er cities to seek job oppor­tu­ni­ties. For Ali and his wife Idil, the sense of com­mu­ni­ty that always char­ac­terised their vil­lage is the most pre­cious val­ue to live for. The per­spec­tive of their neigh­bours com­ing back after the emer­gency is what moti­vates them to stay, despite the dif­fi­cult circumstances.

We don’t know what will hap­pen, some­times I think the future is just gone,” he says. We were more than 4.000 peo­ple here, shar­ing resources and sup­port­ing each oth­er. We had every­thing we need­ed. I believe we will soon be forced to move some­where else. Even so, our cul­ture will not change”.

On the left, the interior of Ali’s (62) and Idil’s (56) tent in the town of Nurdağı, where several houses were damaged by a 7.8 magnitude earthquake and a 7.6 magnitude quake that hit the region on February 6th. On the right, the glasses Idil lost while escaping from her house. By the time her husband recovered them from the damaged building, her view of the place where she lived for her entire life was completely changed.

Mutu­al help in emer­gency is some­thing that Ali expe­ri­enced in 1999, when as a state work­er he sup­port­ed the res­cue team dur­ing the emer­gency of the earth­quake in Yalo­va. Now retired, he could nev­er have imag­ined that some­thing sim­i­lar could hap­pen to him and his family.

While con­cerned and left in uncer­tain­ty, Ali and Idil have con­tin­ued to sup­port the com­mu­ni­ty with the lit­tle they had left – a 30-year-old wash­ing machine was placed in their gar­den and made avail­able for the whole com­mu­ni­ty to use. When it broke a few weeks lat­er, a neigh­bour stepped in, bring­ing his wash­ing machine close to Ali’s and cre­at­ing a small com­mu­nal laundry.

Durdu, 56, and Şerife, 53, stand in front of their damaged house at 3 km from the town of Nurdağı, a district of Gaziantep. The retired couple has been cultivating their land and breeding animals for years before the earthquake hit their home. They hope to be able to resume their production of crops, fruits, vegetables and animal products soon.

Just 3km from the cen­tre of Nurdağı, in small hid­den vil­lages near­by, there is still hope for the land to give its fruits.

Roads were inac­ces­si­ble for days before res­cue teams could reach the land of farm­ers where Dor­du and Şerife live. The cou­ple is now afraid to enter their dam­aged house, where shat­tered glass on the kitchen floor remains untouched. Their new accom­mo­da­tion is a warm tent care­ful­ly tied up, where a small sofa recov­ered from the dam­aged house helps to resem­bles a feel­ing of home. What does not fit inside – a fridge, some big pans and kitchen items – is placed out­side just next to their car. Dor­du has been trav­el­ling in cities around Turkiye for 15 years, work­ing in tun­nel con­struc­tion fields and sav­ing six months of the year to cul­ti­vate the land with his wife and sons. 

I feel sad for those who have now left our vil­lage and their olives trees, because our land is the most pre­cious thing we have,” says Şerife. These gar­dens are the heart of the gen­uine goods of Ana­to­lia region. Toma­toes, egg­plants, olives, oil, we make every­thing on our own. We are not pro­duc­ing now, but we will start back again soon. Cul­ti­vat­ing the land is what gives mean­ing to our live.”

On the left, debris in the kitchen of Durdu’s (56) and Şerife’s (53) house at 3 km from the town of Nurdağı, a district of Gaziantep. On the right, the fridge placed outside the tent where the couple currently lives, just next to their car, still holds the magnet displaying the picture of their granddaughter who is currently staying in Samsun with her parents.

Behind their tent, the house Dor­du had built for his old­er son leans oblique­ly towards the olive trees. With the sec­ond shock, the rooms com­plete­ly col­lapsed in on them­selves. I ded­i­cat­ed two years to build­ing a house for my son and his fam­i­ly, know­ing they would have lived close to us and that our nephews would have grown up in the same gar­den their father did,” Dor­du says. Togeth­er we chose the fur­ni­ture and bought every­thing need­ed for the future. Instead, that night I had to exca­vate a tun­nel between the rub­bles to res­cue my fam­i­ly out of a nightmare.”

Loss and sor­row have hit on Dor­du and Şerife’s fam­i­ly in the past, when one of their four sons passed away in Syr­ia while serv­ing as a sol­dier in 2012. As the schools remain closed, their nephews con­tin­ue their edu­ca­tion 600km away in the city of Samsun.

Suleiman, 74, the wife Dilek, 58, and their three teenage daughters live in the village of Fevzipaşa in Gaziantep’s district of Islahiye, where they breed sheep and goats and sell products in nearby villages and towns. After the earthquake that hit the region on February 6th destroyed their home and caused the death of 170 animals, the family lives in a tent in front of the debris of their house and continue their farming activity while coping with financial insecurity and fear of eviction from their land.

Along the coun­try­side road from Nurdağı to Islahiye, few build­ings still stand. Scat­tered tents are placed next to gas sta­tions sur­round­ed by moun­tains and wide cul­ti­vat­ed fields.

In this area, tiny out­posts of vil­lagers estab­lished their com­mu­ni­ty on the hills, often in remote loca­tions, breed­ing sheep and goats and sell­ing their prod­ucts in near­by towns. As inhab­i­tants evac­u­at­ed the val­ley of Fevzipaşa after the quake, those who refuse to let go of their tra­di­tion of farm­ing remain on the peak of the hill.

I lost every­thing, but I can’t leave. I feel like I can’t breathe in cities”, says Suleiman, a farmer and father of three. Cou­ples and fam­i­lies from oth­er vil­lages and cities used to come here over the week­ends to enjoy the view of the val­ley. All my beau­ti­ful mem­o­ries are in this cor­ner of the moun­tain, and if I can’t live in a beau­ti­ful place there is no point to life”.

Ayşe, 21, shows a picture of her parents who were killed by a 7.8 magnitude earthquake followed by a second 7.6 magnitude quake on February 6th. The farmer now lives in a container next to her destroyed family house. On the left, a view of the village of Fevzipaşa in the province of Gaziantep. In this area, tiny outposts of villagers established their community, breeding sheep and goats and selling their products in nearby towns. As inhabitants evacuated the valley of Fevzipaşa after the quake, on the peak of the hill a few people remain.

Suleiman’s house col­lapsed on the night of the 6th Feb­ru­ary. For hours the farmer tried to res­cue his wife Dilek and their 16-year-old daugh­ter Songül from the rub­ble. In front of the col­lapsed build­ing, wait­ing to know if their moth­er and sis­ter were still alive, were also Zeynep and Aysel. While Dilek and Songül sur­vived, noth­ing could be done for their neigh­bours, who lost their lives in the same night, leav­ing their daugh­ter Ayşe alone. Even though the 21-year-old now stays in a con­tain­er and Suleiman and Dilek’s fam­i­ly in a tent, the neigh­bours still live next to each oth­er as they used to.

Dilek, 58, (on the left), a farmer from the village of Fevzipaşa in Gaziantep’s district of Islahiye, developed a facial paralysis after spending two days under the rubble together with her 16-year-old daughter Songül (on the right). The two now live in a tent placed in front of their destroyed house together with the husband and father Suileman and two daughters, continuing their farming activity while coping with financial insecurity and fear of eviction from their land.

Sit­ting in the tent with Songül, Zeynep and Aysel, Ayşe tries the ready-made yogurt and cheese. Shar­ing food, a com­mon ges­ture of kind­ness with­in the com­mu­ni­ty, is one of the few moments bring­ing glimpses of nor­mal­i­ty. How­ev­er, the sit­u­a­tion is still far from how it used to be. We don’t have enough ani­mals for pro­duc­ing as much as before, with less cheese and yogurt to sell we will have to arrange our expens­es dif­fer­ent­ly,” says Suleiman. While in a rush to res­cue his wife and daugh­ter, his ani­mals were under the smashed stall and only 30 sheep out of 200 survived.

The munic­i­pal­i­ty guar­an­tees that anoth­er house will be built for all of us, but we have no idea how long we will have to wait, and we don’t know where our new home will be,” says Dilek. We don’t have dreams anymore.”

In the village of Fevzipaşa located between Islahiye and Nurdağı, two districts within the province of Gaziantep that were the epicentre of a 7.8 earthquake and a 7.6 magnitude quake that hit the region on February 6th, tiny outposts of farmers established their community on the hills, where a few people currently lives in tents and containers after loosing their houses. The loss of the majority of the animals during the earthquake caused financial insecurity to Suleiman’s family whose main income source is farming and the sales of products to neighbouring villages and towns.

Despite the gen­er­al ten­den­cy among young Turks to leave the vil­lages for the cities, Zeynep, Aysel and Songul are deter­mined to become a sports teacher, a fam­i­ly doc­tor and a fash­ion design­er for their vil­lage. I was born and raised here, and there is no oth­er place I want my life to be”, Aysel says. 

For now, they are attend­ing their class­es in the school tent placed down the val­ley, where vol­un­teers from all around the coun­try pro­vide dai­ly lec­tures for high school pupils. It is dif­fi­cult to con­cen­trate on study­ing now, but I do care about my future,” points out Aysel. We don’t know how, we don’t know when, but things will get bet­ter soon”.

Durdu shows an old picture of the now destroyed house he built for his son next to his home in the town of Nurdağı, a district of Gaziantep, two years prior to the earthquake that hit the region on February 6th. While Durdu and his wife Şerife currently live is a tent placed in front of the damaged building, their son’s family moved to the Turkish city of Samsun where the children are currently attending school.

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