GENOCIDE AND REPENTANCENURI KINO
Assyrian International News Agency
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May 27 2009
Stockholm (AINA) — His father was one of the perpetrators; he is
the first to ask for forgiveness through action
Four Kurdish men gathered a group of Christian female survivors
in the cathedral’s yard. They pointed their weapons at the women
while forcing them to carry out all the books they could find in the
cathedral’s library and pile them up in the yard. Quickly, the yard
was full with books lying on top of each other. When the library
was emptied, one of the men took out a match and set the books on
fire. One of the other men closed the gate to the yard as the other
men gripped and pulled the women’s frightened children from their
arms and threw them into the fire. The mothers instinctively rushed
to save their children, as the men opened fire and shot the women
who fell into the flames. The men didn’t stop throwing women into
the fire until all were dead. In the yard, there were now only ashes
left. A ten-year-old girl survived the massacre and related the story.
This is one of the many stories of the genocide that has now, about
90 years later, brought me to an apartment in Jakobsberg, a densely
populated suburb in northern Stockholm. We are sitting in a small
living room with the blinds down in order to keep out the strong
rays of the sun. We talk about our background. Three of the men in
the room have been in jail; imprisoned from 11 to 15 years. A forth
man says that he was too smart for the Turkish state. I, myself,
was too young to be one of the politically active students in the
beginning of the 70s and the 80s in Turkey. Compared to the others,
I am Assyrian, but we are all born in Turkey. We are all interested in
our motherland and its development, and we are all writers. They write
for a web paper called Nasname. A website for intellectual Kurds in
the diaspora. The sun is gushing through the blinds making the room
stuffy, but the room is filled with activity. The men are going to
publish several articles about a seminar that was held in the Swedish
parliament a few hours ago. One of the men, Behzat Bilek, was one of
the main participants at the seminar and up until noon today was known
as Berzan Boti. His real identity had been kept disclosed because of
his fear of reprisals for his action; an action he has dreamt of doing.
He is the grandson of one of the Kurdish perpetrators from Siirt. And
he wants to be the first to apologize for the genocide committed on
Assyrians, Armenians and Greeks in Turkey during the First World
War. He doesn’t only want to apologize with words; he wants to
apologize with an action. Behzad has given the title deed to the
property he inherited from his grandfather who had confiscated it
from Assyrians after they were murdered in the genocide. Behzad has
given back his share of the family’s land. In 1991, after he had
spent 12 years in prison due to, as he himself puts it, fighting
for human rights and justice he decided to redeem his grandfather’s
deeds. ‘I couldn’t live with myself as fighter for freedom knowing
that my inherited property was stolen; knowing that blood had been
shed in order for me to inherit this land."
Behzad says that he didn’t know about the genocide until he, as an
adult, started researching it. It was never taught in school, and
at home it was also taboo to mention. Today, Behzat is living in the
city of Mersin. Most of his nine siblings have also left Siirt, but
their mother still lives there. ‘It wasn’t until I had spoken to my
mother that I finally made up my mind. She gave me her support and
she said that what I was about to do was honorable".
I don’t quite understand how things will be settled in practice. Behzad
has nine siblings which all are heir to the property he now has
given away.
Seyfo Center is a lobby-organization in Holland with members and
offices all over the western world. Seyfo is the Assyrian word for
sword and the name Assyrians use in reference to the genocide during
the First World War.
Sabri Atman is a Swedish citizen; this is why the official hand
over of the title deeds of the property was held in the Swedish
parliament. Another reason for Seyfo Center to choose the Swedish
parliament as the place where the title deed would be handled over
was due to the fact that many Swedish members of the parliament have
been involved in getting Turkey to recognize the genocide. It was
a very emotional ceremony. Many of the people present couldn’t hold
back the tears, including Behzad himself.
Back in the living room in Jakobsberg, one of the men is pouring up
tea for us while Behzat looks in to my eyes and continues: "Finally,
I can relax and let go. From the time I made my decision till the
time it was done, it has been very difficult for me. My wife, who
is an attorney, has supported me the most. Our biggest concern is
our ten-year-old daughter, who tells me that she doesn’t want to
live without a father. Up until now, I have only received positive
reactions, but I also know that my actions have made me some enemies
as well."
Now he is less tense and says that I may ask any questions I would like
to ask. He has nothing to hide, he says. I question what he has done. I
don’t understand how it is going to happen in practice and what will
happen if Sabri Atman decides to sell the land. I even question the
property’s worth." We are talking about 5,000 hectare that will be
divided among ten people, my nine siblings and Sabri Atman who will
get my share. How and when, I don’t know. The future will tell. All
I know is that I feel happy. I feel that I have created history,
and I hope that my action will contribute to recognition. This is
now more than just a symbolic action."
I begin to irritate the other men with my constant questioning. Behzat
has done something great. After all, it is the symbolic value that
counts. Most Kurds, and Turks for that matter, don’t even know about
the genocide. Now it has been confirmed by the grandson of one of
the perpetrators. I give up. None of the four Kurds in Jakobsberg
knows any details about the genocide; they don’t even know about the
massacre in the city of Siirt where Behzad was born.
The day after, I call the research assistant, Jan Beth Sawoce. He
is the one who told me the story about the ten-year-old girl
who survived the massacre in Siirt. ‘One of the most well known
intellectual orientalists lived in Siirt at that time. So did the
Chaldean-catholic archbishop, Mon Signor Aday Sher, who was in charge
of the Mor Jakup cathedral. Throughout his years in Siirt, he was
mostly known for his book collection and for the cathedral’s library
with its 30,000 books. Mon Signor Aday Sher was an author himself of
books with theological, philosophical and linguistic themes."
It was exactly those books that were used in the fire when the four
Kurdish men murdered the widows and their children. The cathedral was
a culture center and its books were invaluable to Assyrians (who also
go under the denominations of ‘Chaldeans" and ‘Syriacs’). This is the
reason why Beth Sawoce has decided to focus on this city. Beth Sawoce
works at the University of Sodertorn in southern Stockholm. Together
with Professor David Gaunt, he writes on his second book about
the genocide of non-Muslims in the Ottoman Empire during the First
World War.
When I meet Sabri Atman he looks relieved, just like Behzat. It has
been trying times. He has feared that the hand over of the title deeds
would be sabotaged. ‘Of course it is not about the land itself; it is
the action. You were there and saw how many cried when we shook hands
yesterday. It is historical; it is a beginning to recognition, but it
is also a beginning to reconciliation. Until the last minute before
going public about his real identity, Behzat had to keep it a secret
because we feared that he would be hurt or that someone would somehow
sabotage everything. Now we will see what will happen next. None of us
knows how things will develop or what this can lead to. One thing is
sure though, Assyrians worldwide have gotten a very eagerly awaited
recognition. Behzat’s action is heroic and honorable. It is just a
shame that the little girl who survived the massacre in Siirt isn’t
alive to experience this historical moment."
Nuri Kino is a journalist in Sweden specializing in investigative
journalism, and is one of the most highly awarded journalists in Europe
(CV). He is an Assyrian from Turkey. His documentary, Assyriska:
a National team without a Nation, was awarded The Golden Palm at the
2006 Beverly Hills Film festival.