A new day, a new perspective

It is a new day in Istanbul, of course every morning is a new day and everyone wakes to a new day no matter where they wake so what is the big deal.  Well, really new days start with the realization of all the things that you have learned and the experiences that change your lives and your view of the world.  Not every day is like that for everyone and even here in the ancient city some days are just another day.

Today is a new day with new insights, new thoughts, new opinions, new knowledge and a sense of urgency and concern.  Perhaps it is just that so many unique sights, sounds, smells and activities have saturated my mind, but I am in total overload.  This experience is such a great opportunity to see and feel the ebb and tide of the real world.  Yesterday morning I woke up at 4 AM filled with the need to complete a document that I have been assigned to do.  Today Nori woke early consumed with the concern of our experiences of yesterday.  Somedays we are not sure what we will do and somedays we are overwhelmed with the need to do something and we are not sure how to resolve all that needs doing.

So what is the trigger for today's conundrum?  It was our exposure to the most abject and deplorable living condition that we have ever imagined.  I wish I had pictures, but I could not take a picture and further subject our friend to the humility of exposure.

We had been asked by our friends and fellow missionaries, the Bauer's to go with them to visit a person they had been assigned to home teach, a common friend in the Branch. They had been there before and wanted us to go and see if we could come up with any ideas to help fix the "apartment" so that the wind, rain and snow would not come through the wall.

We caught the metro to Şişhane and walked a way down İşkatile Cad., one of the many historic streets in the city. We then headed downhill toward the Marmara Sea past some truly amazingly old buildings. We came to an old metal/wood door and stepped inside. A narrow wooden stairway led to the upper floors. There were no lights and the stairway was barely wide enough for my shoulders to pass without turning sideways. We carefully climbed three floors expecting the stairs to collapse from out combined weight.  On the first flight you could see some daylight through the treads and they groaned and shifted with each step.  In the dark and obvious grime, the person we were visiting called out to us and guided us to her space.  The floor and door were so warped that you could barely open it and squeeze through the opening.  In the so called room (8 X 8), there was a sleeping area against a crumbling wall of plaster and mortar and then perpendicular to the "bed" forming a u shape were spaces for the 4 of us to sit on dirty towels and watch the cockroaches wander around.  Towels and paper were stuffed into holes around the window and into holes in the wall, the ceiling drooped and was water saturated and appeared to be ready to collapse.  There was a small space heater and an old black and white TV.  She has no shower, and shares a "squat", turkish toilet with the 4 other dwellers of the space.  She bathes by heating water in a coffee pot and then does a sponge bath in the room.  There is no cooking space, but has a small microwave.  Everything is covered with towels to protect it from water or grim.  Of course everything is a strange term, because no obvious thing of value was in the space.  Her arms are covered with bites from something.

She is the diaspora in Turkey, an illegal refugee from Ethiopia that saw her father killed in front of her and then was beaten and raped.  She came to Turkey hoping to find a life and found poverty and a country that is over run with refugees, unable to find a way out.  She has lived in this space for 12 years, paying originally 20 TL a month and now 250 TL ($142.50).  She is being overcharged.

Now, You Fix It.  Contact me with a solution.  Dial 1 800 I can help.

On a lighter note we experienced the best part of any day, mail.  We now have received two letters, cards actually, but it is so cool to get a handwritten document.  Our first was a christmas card from my brother (most likely his good wife) and now from the kind and generous Jones'.  Somehow it is better than e-mail or any electronic communication.  Mail does come to Turkey, it is slow, but it comes.  WOW.