We met with 9 villages 200 km from the Turkish boarder who have been bombed by the Turkish government Since 1994.
Nothing makes sense.
Kashkawa, Dupre and all the others are farming villages. We saw their rice fields, their goats and fig trees. We ate their fish and cucumber. We played in their river with their children. They live without knowing when the next bombing will hit. Earlier this year they were bombed 40 times from 3am to 5am. That is two hours worth of fear, where children are crying and fields are burning and windows are being thrown open so that they do not get broken by the blasts. For the past 22 years worth of bombing they have had no casualties but the village's on the other side of the mountains are now empty and people are slowly leaving these ones too. The blasts are getting closer and more regular and they make no sense. They create fear and displacement among innocent people.
The official Turkish line is that they are attacking PKK strongholds. But no PKK live in these villages and if they pass through it is in small numbers and they do not stay and chat.
We were taken to a seated area by a scenic river with farmers representing the villages, representing the power of cross-cultural cooperation (8 of the villages are Christian one is Muslim). And these men and women asked us over and over again, tell the Turkish government to stop bombing us. Our livelihood are our fields and they are burning. Our children are our future and their teachers are too scared to come and teach them. We used to have 23 families in this village, now we have 9. The refugees that fled ISIS, we welcomed, sheltered and fed, but they were too scared to stay.
They laid a feast for us under a shelter of branches and vine leaves, by a sparkling river. Children laughed and hugged us and splashed in the water. Beautiful women smiled and tried to talk with us through the barriers of language. The sun shone on a golden afternoon. But this picture needs to be reconciled with the women showing us the scars from flying shrapnel. With the smoke of burning fields in our nostrils. With pieces of metal too heavy to lift lying on a hillside next to deep craters made from unnatural blasts and grazing calves.
These people told us they needed nothing in their villages, no charity, no projects they just want a safe place to live. Tell Turkey to stop bombing us. I don't know how to do that, we have a plan to visit the consulate and pray some message crosses the boarders of diplomacy, state and the everyday person. I really just ask your prayers for these villages and to spread the word about what is happening.
Nothing makes sense.
Kashkawa, Dupre and all the others are farming villages. We saw their rice fields, their goats and fig trees. We ate their fish and cucumber. We played in their river with their children. They live without knowing when the next bombing will hit. Earlier this year they were bombed 40 times from 3am to 5am. That is two hours worth of fear, where children are crying and fields are burning and windows are being thrown open so that they do not get broken by the blasts. For the past 22 years worth of bombing they have had no casualties but the village's on the other side of the mountains are now empty and people are slowly leaving these ones too. The blasts are getting closer and more regular and they make no sense. They create fear and displacement among innocent people.
The official Turkish line is that they are attacking PKK strongholds. But no PKK live in these villages and if they pass through it is in small numbers and they do not stay and chat.
We were taken to a seated area by a scenic river with farmers representing the villages, representing the power of cross-cultural cooperation (8 of the villages are Christian one is Muslim). And these men and women asked us over and over again, tell the Turkish government to stop bombing us. Our livelihood are our fields and they are burning. Our children are our future and their teachers are too scared to come and teach them. We used to have 23 families in this village, now we have 9. The refugees that fled ISIS, we welcomed, sheltered and fed, but they were too scared to stay.
They laid a feast for us under a shelter of branches and vine leaves, by a sparkling river. Children laughed and hugged us and splashed in the water. Beautiful women smiled and tried to talk with us through the barriers of language. The sun shone on a golden afternoon. But this picture needs to be reconciled with the women showing us the scars from flying shrapnel. With the smoke of burning fields in our nostrils. With pieces of metal too heavy to lift lying on a hillside next to deep craters made from unnatural blasts and grazing calves.
These people told us they needed nothing in their villages, no charity, no projects they just want a safe place to live. Tell Turkey to stop bombing us. I don't know how to do that, we have a plan to visit the consulate and pray some message crosses the boarders of diplomacy, state and the everyday person. I really just ask your prayers for these villages and to spread the word about what is happening.