This article by Yıldırım Türker first published in Radikal Daily in Turkish. The following is translated by Stratos Moraitis.
Then they took me away. They said “let’s play a game.” We have our ‘virginity report’ since they have taken us to the hospital previously. They cannot do anything to us on the front since we are virgins. But on the behind, all the time. They had bottles and such. “Do you want us to blow the bottle inside?” or “let’s break it down.” They used to do that in a country I don’t remember which. They used to break it inside. I’m telling you sincerely, “let’s play the bottle game” they said. My behind was actually split off. My nipple tore off. When I got out, we had it stitched. But no milk comes off on that side. I have only two pores left. And they are not on the center. They burned me with cigarette butts. I still have the scars. I first saw how low a man can get over there. I saw there how low men can get even before I met any man… These were the nationalists, the guards of the state. Our backs bled all the time…… We heard a terrible scream from across the room. A little girl. Her scream is terrible. We cannot make it out. She was nine or ten years old. She was a kid compared to us. She didn’t even had breasts. We hear them saying “Hazal do you enjoy that?” But the girl dies. A guy yells non-stop. Our eyes are closed. We don’t get it. By back bleeds. My nipples ache, I’m in no shape to stand it. My body is in fire. I didn’t want to be beaten again. The pain in my back is unbearable. The girl next to me poked me. She said “open your eyes.” I said “I can’t.” I said “I can’t stand it no more.” She said to open my eyes in Kurdish. Her determination scared me. The little girl without any breasts, her hair in shambles. Blood coming down on from her crotch. We didn’t recognize what happened. I’m slapping her to no avail. Her eyes open wide. She was raped over and over again. Blood pouring from her tiny body. No matter what I do she doesn’t respond. She was as if her eyes were being torn off. I speak in Kurdish, I speak in Turkish, nothing. No response. She’s stock-still. I was trying to put on a pad on her but she’s stock-still. Couldn’t put a pad on her. I wasn’t saying anything but the girl next to me stated swearing. She’s saying whatever she could think of. Someone comes and said we …. her nine of us, if you don’t shut up, we will come twenty of us and…… Someone says “didn’t her father speak yet?” They have raped his daughter in front of his eyes to make him speak, nine of them.”
The quote above is taken from the book “Not as you know it (Bildiğin Gibi Değil)” as written by a young woman about her experiences of childhood in the nineties in Southeastern Turkey.
I can give other heart breaking examples from Diyarbakir Military Prison in the 80’s. Some of those are on the record as well.
The treatment of the kids in Pozantı Prison in 2010’s is just a new ring on an old chain. It’s not new. It cannot be considered as an “isolated” incident as the AKP government tries to explain what happened there.
The women, children and men of the region were subjected to inhuman acts of brutality which we tend to forget immediately after reading or hearing them as if they were translated from quotes from hell. They are still being subjected to the same.
They are being raped, invalidated through torture by the Gendermerie, JITEM corps and the police: uniformed state forces. Will knowing the state policies implemented in Diyarbakir Prison back in the 80’s are used against little kids in Pozanti today change our perception of life? This is the real question.
Do you get it now why these kids are throwing stones?
When they obtain a more powerful weapon than a stone, do you know that they will want to retaliate all the pain inflicted on their mothers and forefathers by using it unreservedly, even if they forget what they went through themselves?
As long as we refuse to bear witness, as long as we stand on a corner with daze in our eyes with our sad democrat looks, we will run quickly towards a terrible abyss all together.
There are thousands of Pozantis in Turkey. Thousands of centers work day and night to make ten thousands of Kurdish kids feel sorry that they even exist.
Even the mothers that are supposed to milk them are deprived of their basic function, their breasts are deemed stagnant.
The government experts when they stipulate about the fight against terror, they name people who ask for a remedy for Hazal, terrorists.
We all watch the scuffle between imams calling for a massacre and bumpkins giving thanks to the massacring soldiers. Which side do you think will save us from that shame; the question in Hazal’s eyes, from the realities of Pozanti prison?