Turkish Daily News 05 June 1996
So, what can you change?
• Aghas... Beys... asked too much money from us It wasn't easy to settle down. We have no place. We have no place.
• The hospitality of these nomad people didn't surprise us. They quickly prepare the table with cheese, yoghourt, bread and tea and we started to eat as we chatting. They talked about the same problems that we have heard of elsewhere. The Beritan's problem is always the same: being a nomad.
• "Why do you do this? Will our problems be resolved if you write about us? We addressed all the authorities. But all they did was to construct three villages of 450 houses. Will we find something to eat when you will write about us? Can these children read it?"
• A small part of the Beritan tribe was settled in this village, but the problems for these families started before the houses were even built. Many of them were demolished before being inhabited, such was the poor quality of construction.
By Jan Pacal / Turkish Daily News
ISTANBUL- We had many friends from Beritan tribe as we were travelling in between the tents. Most of our friends were naturally children, many of whom were seeing a camera for the first time in their life and were of course very pleased of existence. They followed us everywhere, and were more than willing to pose for the camera. Our existence was, for the moment, the most interesting and different thing of their life. They considered us rich, coming from the city, but later on they suspected our importance due to the behavior of their fathers.

The literacy rate of the Beritan tribe is very low. In fact this percentage is related to Turkish rather than their own language. Only six out of 100 is literate. Aslan Tas, who said that he learnt to read and write in one year when he was working as a shepherd in the mountains, believes that the worst thing for the Beritan people is the lack of education. He points to the children covered with dust.

"Ninety eight per cent of the children cannot go to school. What will they do? I would like all of them go to school, have a good education. Forget the money, where can we find the school since we are migrating all the time?" he asked
Our talk would have gone on if a hard looking man, not really pleased at what we were doing had not approached us. We learnt afterwards that he was called Mehmet. He looked at us and at the recording machine. There was anger and mistrust in his eyes. We asked him if there was any problem. He answered while rolling a cigarette.
"Why do you do this? Will our problems be resolved if you write about us? We addressed all the authorities. But all they did was to construct three villages of 450 houses. Will we find something to eat when you will write about us? Can these children read it?"
We are hungry, poor and without hope

We said if we didn't have such a power, we would continuously work to find solutions. But we didn't have the power. The only power we have is to inform the public about the situation of the Beritan. We said this, thanked them for their hospitality and said we'd never forget what we had eaten and drunk with them and at least three persons have faced their realities even if nothing can be achieved afterwards. He didn't understand or he didn't want to understand. His look didn't change.

"Years ago the state took from us our lands in Ceylanpinar without having any pity for our babies. We asked for them back, but they didn't give us back our lands. We had more than 150,000 sheep. Think what this number could mean to us. We contacted ministers, parliament members. What happened? What changed. So, what can you change..."
"You disturb our guests", said Ali Dayi, one of those who was sitting with us. "They are not here to harm you. They are educated people."
But Memhet, seeming not to hear his words, continued his mordant sentences.

"Weren't we already misled by the best educated ones? Weren't they educated, those who took our lands from us... Weren't they educated people those who neglected our screams and our living conditions?"
And then, he ceased talking and started to roll a new cigarette. He got up and seemed it seemed that he had one more thing to say.
"There are also the forest- keepers, do you know them?"
We looked at him with questioning eyes.

"I are afraid of them more than the PKK. Because they have the state at their back and kill people, pillage villages, seize lands. They don't permit us to settle in the houses and they behave as if they were the owners. Besides all of these, they kill each other for very little amounts of money. The state started to pay a pension to one of them to stop him stealing..." his voice trailed off and then he left.
Later we were told that "forest keepers" was the name the Beritan gave to special members of the security forces, and who are seen as another scourge sent to plague the nomads.

"My seven children were dead in one month"
Then it was the turn of Hatun to take up the story. In her bad and heavily accented Turkish she spoke of the pain of her people.
"My seven children were dead in one month," she told us. "We are poor and cannot survive. We are not able to go to the doctor in bad weather conditions. We don't have money... One of them was dead in my belly when I was mounted on horse... The villagers don't permit us to stay even temporarily... The government should hear all of these things."
"We are a good stock of votes," said another. "We have a population of 50,000 people, but we won't give our votes to anyone. They were of no good to us... They didn't keep their promises. Some of us support for the time being the Refah Party, but they will become unreasonable soon..."
A mournful song was heard on the wind and we left the tent and tried to understand the words and their meaning.
Scarcity came to Serafettin plateau 50 years ago. Our goods were spread in the middle and left there. Then we came to Urfa's Harran district. And then we returned.
Aghas... Beys... asked too much money from us It wasn't easy to settle down.
We have no place.
We have no place.
We ask the government to give us a place.
People are poor, unable.
50 years ago,
50 yeats ago,
Scarcity came to Serafettin.
We left Subatan village for another destination. The roads were very difficult, but finally we arrived at the end of our long journey, more off the dark tents erected on a hill. When we approach the place, we also observed a "ghost" village. The village had first been burned down and then demolished. Some said it was demolished by the state, some other said by PKK. Whichever it was the cene was one of desolation. Only a school building remained, which was being used as stable.
The hospitality of these nomad people didn't surprise us. They quickly prepare the table with cheese, yoghourt, bread and tea and we started to eat as we chatting. They talked about the same problems that we have heard of elsewhere. The Beritan's problem is always the same: being a nomad.
Molla Polat Village
We continued our journey towards Molla Polat village, two hours from Diyarbakir. The importance of the village is that a number of the 450 Beritan families who were housed by the government were living there. Seen at a distance, the buildings of the village were seemingly new and in good condition, but when approached we observed that they were new but with many fissures and ready to be demolished.
A small part of the Beritan tribe was settled in this village, but the problems for these families started before the houses were even built. Many of them were demolished before being inhabited, such was the poor quality of construction. The Beritan people formed a cooperative to ask for their rights and tried to take legal action against the contracting firm. But no one was interested in the case.

Beritan tribe leader Ali Yazici said the situation has been many times reported to the related authorities, but no answer was received.
"The lives of our people are in danger in these houses. The contractor has won billions by covering the fissures with paint", he said.
And so at least some of the once proud Beritan said farewell to their nomadic lives in these broken and unsound dwellings, a far cry from their life of freedom that now few can remember.      Back