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Time to once again open my life up a little in order to share the plethora of wealth I'm about to absorb. I'm going to be back in Iraq through September, so hop on board and check back every couple of days, I'll do my best to update as much as possible. Questions? dtate38@cox.net And check out the site I'm working with: http://www.billroggio.com Support independent journalism!
Thursday, February 13, 2003
Roanoke Times Headline: POWELL: MOMENT OF TRUTH AT HAND
When I open the shades to my window over Diyarbakir, Old Man Winter left us with a beautiful coat of snow, with more falling throughout the day. First thing you notice is that there are no snow plows here. People just do their best to get around, and in snow as deep as it is this morning (maybe 18 inches), it's kind of amusing to watch from my window.
Diyarbakir is the largest city in SE Turkey and is almost all Kurdish. This city was the epicenter of a bloody war that began in 1984 and lasted 15 years. The official death toll is between 35,000-39,000 killed. Several Kurds I spoke to said that 30,000 Kurds alone died, not including Turkish soldiers.
The war was primarily waged by a communist-oriented rebel group known as the P.K.K. (The Kurdistan Workers' Party). They're now called KADEK and are the same rebels the State Department has listed as terrorists. Most are based in N. Iraq where they've been quiet under orders from their imprisoned leader, Abdullah Ocalan. That stability has been holding, but is shaky, with a few reports of shootouts between Turkish security forces and rebels in the countryside.
The city itself has been the scene of battle after battle for centuries. In fact the city, which sits on the Tigris, is nearly completely surrounded by a crumbling medieval fortress. It places second in size only to the Great Wall of China for walls of this historical significance.
Anyway, Diyarbakir is still the central hub in the Kurdish region, and it is here that we need to get our media credentials. This in its own raises an interesting question when traveling: As a journalist, there are times when it is more advantageous to travel as a tourist than as a journalist. Of course there are various reasons for this, it just didn't apply at this time or place. So once again, Elif to the rescue. We get about town and find a photo shop to get the passport sized pictures you need for your paperwork. I had to get "official" permission from my company (on letterhead) stating that I was in Turkey to cover the war. Then I had to get it all to an overworked military post that was very behind because of the holiday. Fortunately, my stuff went through Diyarbakir to Istanbul and Ankara with the rest of ABC's applications, so everything was worked out for me. I would never have thought to get credentials. As an independent journalist, that sometimes slips my mind. A definite lesson learned.
After we got all of this rolling, Elif helped me hook up with a local cell phone. Lesson two for the day: Europeans use cell phones like crazy. So I was loaned one of ABC's cell phones and given a crash course in buying minutes and adding them to my account manually. Now we can communicate, effectively expanding her team for near nothing. My satellite phone was very expensive to use, which I saved primarily to call home. The relationship between Elif and I was definitely one of friendship, but no doubt we served a purpose for one another: She wanted my eyes at the Iraqi border while she waited two weeks for her team to arrive. In return, I needed her guidance in a fairly dangerous situation and I was hoping to land a job.
Around midday I started feeling sick. We were in the local mall at a tailor shop. Elif's money belt ripped (always take a moneybelt) and we were getting it fixed when I started losing my sense of balance. It was very strange and it made me nauseas. I drifted back over to the hotel and slept it off while Elif went to work on the credentials. Maybe just jetlag. Regardless, I decided to take the opportunity to sleep in a comfy hotel room, considering I had no idea what the next few days would bring.
When I open the shades to my window over Diyarbakir, Old Man Winter left us with a beautiful coat of snow, with more falling throughout the day. First thing you notice is that there are no snow plows here. People just do their best to get around, and in snow as deep as it is this morning (maybe 18 inches), it's kind of amusing to watch from my window.
Diyarbakir is the largest city in SE Turkey and is almost all Kurdish. This city was the epicenter of a bloody war that began in 1984 and lasted 15 years. The official death toll is between 35,000-39,000 killed. Several Kurds I spoke to said that 30,000 Kurds alone died, not including Turkish soldiers.
The war was primarily waged by a communist-oriented rebel group known as the P.K.K. (The Kurdistan Workers' Party). They're now called KADEK and are the same rebels the State Department has listed as terrorists. Most are based in N. Iraq where they've been quiet under orders from their imprisoned leader, Abdullah Ocalan. That stability has been holding, but is shaky, with a few reports of shootouts between Turkish security forces and rebels in the countryside.
The city itself has been the scene of battle after battle for centuries. In fact the city, which sits on the Tigris, is nearly completely surrounded by a crumbling medieval fortress. It places second in size only to the Great Wall of China for walls of this historical significance.
Anyway, Diyarbakir is still the central hub in the Kurdish region, and it is here that we need to get our media credentials. This in its own raises an interesting question when traveling: As a journalist, there are times when it is more advantageous to travel as a tourist than as a journalist. Of course there are various reasons for this, it just didn't apply at this time or place. So once again, Elif to the rescue. We get about town and find a photo shop to get the passport sized pictures you need for your paperwork. I had to get "official" permission from my company (on letterhead) stating that I was in Turkey to cover the war. Then I had to get it all to an overworked military post that was very behind because of the holiday. Fortunately, my stuff went through Diyarbakir to Istanbul and Ankara with the rest of ABC's applications, so everything was worked out for me. I would never have thought to get credentials. As an independent journalist, that sometimes slips my mind. A definite lesson learned.
After we got all of this rolling, Elif helped me hook up with a local cell phone. Lesson two for the day: Europeans use cell phones like crazy. So I was loaned one of ABC's cell phones and given a crash course in buying minutes and adding them to my account manually. Now we can communicate, effectively expanding her team for near nothing. My satellite phone was very expensive to use, which I saved primarily to call home. The relationship between Elif and I was definitely one of friendship, but no doubt we served a purpose for one another: She wanted my eyes at the Iraqi border while she waited two weeks for her team to arrive. In return, I needed her guidance in a fairly dangerous situation and I was hoping to land a job.
Around midday I started feeling sick. We were in the local mall at a tailor shop. Elif's money belt ripped (always take a moneybelt) and we were getting it fixed when I started losing my sense of balance. It was very strange and it made me nauseas. I drifted back over to the hotel and slept it off while Elif went to work on the credentials. Maybe just jetlag. Regardless, I decided to take the opportunity to sleep in a comfy hotel room, considering I had no idea what the next few days would bring.
