THE TURKISH GENOCIDE OF ASSYRIANS: A CURSE ON THE KURDS
By Sadik Aslan
Assyrian International News Agency AINA
Aug 6 2012
(AINA) — In 1918, when the Turkish genocide of Assyrians that is
known as Seyfo (sword) culminated, the Turks rewarded the Kurdish
warlord Seyid Riza with the title “General and liberator of Dersim
(Erzincan).” Among the Christian prisoners Riza’s forces had gathered
for deportation and murder was also his Armenian friend Bogas Pasha,
who turned to Riza, saying “My dear friend, I want to tell you
something: you made a mistake. What you are doing to us today will
tomorrow be upon you Kurds. Remember these words! Your turn will
come also.”
So writes a Kurd from the village Shtrako in Turabdin, Turkey, at the
website politikART. His name is Sadik Aslan and he is in jail in the
city of Burdur in Turkey, probably for political reasons. The Kurds
played an active part in the genocide Seyfo for both religious and
economic reasons, Sadik Aslan writes. Under the heading Seyfo’nun
laneti (Seyfo’s curse), he describes the killing of the Assyrians in
Turabdin and to some extent the Armenians in eastern Anatolia. The
essence of his article is that when the Turks were finished with the
Christians, they turned their weapons against their Kurdish allies.
And the bloodshed did not end with the Seyfo, he writes and also
links to confiscation of St. Gabriel Monastery’s land. Journalist
Augin Kurt Haninke has translated Sadik Aslan’s article.
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The village Arnas is eight kilometers from my home village. In early
July 1915 Assyrians in the neighboring village of Saleh were murdered
in their own homes by Turkish soldiers and Kurdish villagers. The 70
Assyrian families in Arnas learned what happened to Saleh. They could
also hear the gunfire in Midyat. They took what little they could and
began to flee. Those who could not flee were killed by the village’s
Kurds. The Kurdish Agha Nedjo, had in his youth grown up among the
Assyrians and they had raised him as a son. When Seyfo broke out,
he attacked the Assyrian family who had taken care of him first. The
lady of the house asked, “Nedjo, my son, don’t you recognize us?” He
replied coldly, “That was yesterday, today is another day.” While the
husbands, fathers and brothers were killed in Fero Caves outside Arnas,
the women were forced into slave labor or were murdered.
The 20 Assyrian families who lived in my own home village Shtrako
were murdered at the same time by their Kurdish neighbors. Only 12
youngsters managed to flee and escape death. There was also a church
of St. Aday [Thaddeus] from the first century which is now a mosque.
It took time before I understood why this mosque is unlike other
mosques. Neither did I know what had happened in the neighboring
village of Zaz. To me it was the village where I got raisins and
almonds from friendly ladies who patted me on the head while clamped
down in my mother’s skirts, when as a child I went with her to Zaz.
There lived 200 Assyrian families there. When the Kurdish clans
from my home village and other neighboring villages surrounded Zaz,
the Assyrians took refuge in the church of St. Dimot, which had high
walls. They held out for 20 days before hunger and thirst gained the
upper hand. 366 people gave up when they believed the Kurds’ vow not
to harm them. But all were murdered outside the village. Only a few
pretty girls were spared. A Turkish officer who had come from Midyat
intervened when he heard about the barbarism and rescued the ones
remaining in the church. They left the village but most still died
of hunger, disease and attacks on the roads. When the genocide was
over, a few went back to their homes in Zaz. These women whom gave
me raisins and almonds were the remnants of the survivors.
Another Assyrian neighboring village was Hah, with the church St.
Mary. It was the village where I got the best tasting orange in my
life from the nun Sedoke, who had a shining face in her black dress.
She has also fled to Europe. I do not know if she’s still alive. The
villagers of Hah resisted for 45 days inside that church where the
nun handed me the orange. Only three or four villages could resist
like Hah. The other surrounding villages suffered from barbarism:
Arbaye, Bote, Chelik, Deiro du Slibo, Habses, Kafarbe, Kafro Elayto,
Kerboran, Sheherkan, Yerdo, Kfarze and others. In all these villages
Assyrians were murdered by the Kurds who lived in the same village.
For some years I studied in the town of Midyat. Among my classmates
were Assyrian youth Tuma [Thomas], Musa, Salari, Gabriel, Ishak and
others. In the winter, when we squeezed ourselves in the cold desks,
I did not know that there was a time when the Assyrians were burned at
Midyat’s streets and beheaded. None of my classmates told me. Even in
the days of joy there was a sadness in their eyes, like the Mona Lisa.
Much later I understood this deep sorrow. They had inherited it from
their parents and grandparents. But they hid it inside. They were
burdened with grief. It was one of “the effects of the sword” —
shyness, worry, chronic anxiety and docility.
The city of Midyat was besieged by Kurdish clans on July 19, 1915. The
Assyrians were invited by the authorities along with the Kurdish and
Mhallami (Assyrian converts to Islam) clans to surrender. But their
leaders Hanne Safar and Isa Zatte refused. After ten days, on July 29,
the Assyrian resistance collapsed. The Assyrians had taken shelter
in the church of St. Sharbel and in the residence of the Adokas family.
Now there was a slaughter. The Assyrian leader Hanne Safar was
captured and beheaded with his own sword, which he had received from
the Sultan. His head was spiked on a pole and was paraded around
Midyat’s streets. An entire district was set on fire. Those who tried
to escape were killed on the spot. Holes were opened in rooftops and
fire thrown in so that all indoor choked to death. Women and children
had gathered in two districts. All were murdered by death squads. Most
people who tried to escape through various tunnels were murdered.
Young men were thrown headlong from high rooftops and killed. Hundreds
of young boys were lined down to the ground and their heads were
trampled by horses’ hooves. What was left of Midyat was a smoke-filled
pile of debris.
Even after the genocide had ended, nearly 7000 Assyrians were killed
in various parts of Turabdin. In a few villages, Ahlah (Halakh),
Bokesyono, Deir Qubbe, Marbobo and Znaver, Assyrians had been protected
by some Kurds. How much of this action will reduce the size of our
sins is difficult to know.
As a child I used to hear different “hero stories” from the time
of the “Decree on the Christians annihilation (in Kurdish Fermana
Fellaha). But I found it difficult to place events in time and space.
My thinking could go a few years back. The rest was a dark and distant
time, when dark allegations flourished fresh round about my slender
young at heart. There were statements such as: He who kills seven
godless [non-Muslims] would go to paradise or the killer’s palm
would be converted to a rainbow and he will enter paradise. Then
an Assyrian bride was kidnapped by one of my relatives who already
had three wives. Hanne from Hah complained, crying in front of my
grandfather and said, “Why are you doing this to us? We are the
orphans under your protection.”
Then, when we as children ran around in the dusty streets and disturbed
environment, usually the adults admonished us with epithets like
Arnawit (Albanian), Yezidi, Ermeni or Serfillah (Christian skull). The
latter marked the most derogatory epithet.
When you become aware of the reality of the poor women in Zaz, the
angelic nun in Hah, my classmates in Midyat, then your happy memories
become clouded and disappear into thin air. This feeling keeps you
hooked like a lasso, pushes you hard and puts a big lump in your
throat. Then you will catch the eyes of a trapped Assyrian who cannot
even draw his last load to defend himself. You will understand the
vision’s message. A glance that the words of Jesus on the cross says,
“Forgive them, my Lord!”
We usually hear or say that genocide was committed by the government
and the terrorist groups that it had organized. The role of people,
i.e ordinary people, was reduced to a minimum. Unfortunately it is
not true with the historical facts that have emerged, particularly in
Turabdin. Of course, the same applies for the killings of Armenians
in some areas. Regarding the killing of Turabdin’s Assyrians the
central authorities did not always know what was happening. The
attacks were organized usually on a local level. The attacks became
reality through people’s participation. The reason was religious and
economic. The local Assyrians were farmers with large farming lands,
living in large villages.
A hate propaganda was launched, culminating in a rarely seen barbarism
from Kurdish neighbors, who were Muslims, but who for centuries had
lived with the Assyrians. The Kurds wre excited to seize Assyrian
lands, homes, valuables and women. Few questioned the genocide. Those
who went with the flow and gave tacit approval are not without guilt.
They also carry some of the blame for the killings.
In 1918, when Erzincan was “liberated”, the Kurdish warlord Seyid
Riza was awarded with the title “General of Dersim (Erzincan)” by
the Turkish General Kazim Karabekir. Among the Christian prisoners
Riza’s forces had gathered for deportation and murder was also his
Armenian friend Bogas Pasha, who turned to Riza, saying: “My dear
friend, I want to tell you something: you made a mistake. What you
are doing to us today will tomorrow be upon you Kurds. Remember these
words! Your turn will also come.”
In 1915 when the Armenians were driven from Erzincan in death marches,
an Armenian women was shouting to the marauding and murderous Muslims:
“These lands will not be yours, you will not enjoy them in freedom.”
At the same time, when the Assyrians in Hakkari were expelled and
murdered, a Nestorian-Assyrian woman turned about to see her home for
the last time. Crying, she said in Kurdish: ne bi xatire we birano —
“I hope you are not left in peace, brothers.”
Maybe it’s their prophecies that have been fulfilled and their prayers
heard, because the killings have not stopped in these parts after
their departure. But we have not yet done what we need to remove the
curse that hangs over us or to do penance for our sins. Therefore,
today a monastery [St. Gabriel] in Turabdin is bleeding.