Story of Semire Encü and her son Barış

Semire Encu

ANF, — Pain is still fresh in the village of Roboski which lost 34 of its people in a bombardment by Turkish warplanes one year ago, on 28th December of 2011. Relatives of the victims from the villages of Roboski and Gülyazı are trying hard to console themselves with the photographs, bloodstained clothes and school books of their beloved ones killed in the massacre.

The Roboski families condemn the government for not having taken anyone to trial so far and react against the expected release of the Roboski report by the Parliamentary Uludere Sub-Commission in the coming year, after the anniversary of the massacre on 28 December.

A big photograph of the 34 victims of the massacre is the first thing to catch the eye in each house in the villages of Roboski and Gülyazı where people are still dressing in black and forcing a smile. Mothers from both villages come together every evening and they tell about the sons they lost in the massacre, striving hard to ease the pain, sitting around wood burning stoves. As if living the massacre once again every night, they condemn the government for protecting the responsible of the airstrike. With tears coming down their cheeks they speak to reporters who are recently paying visits to the village for the anniversary of the massacre, the screams of mothers, fathers and siblings are heart breaking.

The new born babies in the village are named after those lost in the massacre, with a wish that these babies will keep the memory of those people alive. One of these new born babies is five months old Barış Hüsnü Encü, named by his mother Semire Encü after her husband Hüsnü Encü, one of the 34 lives taken one year ago. Semire Encü tries hard to stop her tears while telling the story of her husband whom she had been married to for eight years. Semire tells about the struggle she and her husband had to fight against the challenging conditions in an earth-sheltered house in Roboski; “My husband was a painter but he had to go smuggling as he couldn’t find any other work in the village where people don’t have a choice other than border trade. We are in a kind of open prison here as the whole territory is surrounded by the military, bases are built on the most fertile lands, people are not allowed to go to highlands. On the other hand, smuggling is the primary source of income for the people here for many years now. All those smuggling activities were going on with the knowledge and permission of local military authorities”.

Semire tells that her husband’s biggest dream was to be a father, and adds, “Our only problem was that we couldn’t have a baby. However, me and my husband never left each other alone as I continued to receive treatment for seven years so that our only dream, to have a child, could become true. He was going smuggling to meet the expenses of my treatment which I was receiving in Adana and therefore cost us a lot. The last time we went to Adana was 14 days before the massacre. We had given up all our hope, which is why I burst into tears when the doctor said me that I was 33 days pregnant. The life started once again for us both, as our dream would become real as I was now carrying our child. Now that we would no more spend money for treatment, we planned to build a new house so that we could get out of that old earth-sheltered house. However, they didn’t let us live our lives and be happy.”

“When I asked my husband if he wanted a daughter or a son, he said he wanted to have a daughter and to call her ‘Kader’ (fate in English). He had no name in mind for a boy”, says Semire and adds; “He used to dream about having a good work as he was never eager to go smuggling. He used to tell me that he felt something unexpected would happen to him one day. I was also telling him not to go, still he had no other choice. In this territory, smuggling is such a usual work that even children go to the border for trade. That is why he didn’t change his mind and went that day too.”

With tears falling down her cheeks, Semire tries hard to tell the night of the massacre; “That evening, as he told me he had a back pain, I told him not to go but he didn’t listen to me and left the house, asking me to cook potatoes for dinner. He said he would be home at around 10 at night. Then he took his donkey with him, looked at me from the window and waved his hand at me, as if saying goodbye forever. I will never forget that day. After he left, I went to his parents’ house where I was going to wait for him until his return. After some time, we started to hear the sounds of warplanes and then of a bombardment. Our village was shaken like an earthquake had happened. We all went out, looked towards mountains in great fear as villagers said ‘it seemed they are dropping bombs on our children’. We first didn’t believe it as the bombardment of warplanes is a usual thing here. However, soon later, everybody in the village started to run to the area of the bombardment. We even left the babies alone in their cradles at home.”

Semire tells that she, in the heat of the moment, also started to run to the snow-capped mountains without ever thinking about herself or the baby she was carrying. Semire says that she had thought her husband was an adult and could protect himself as she rushed to the scene of the massacre which she explains as follows; “There was an intense smell of flesh and hair. We saw bodies torn apart, wounded people lying on the ground in blood and fragmented parts of donkeys still burning. It was simply a massacre, a savagery that tore our hearts out. Small bodies of the children had been scattered around in pieces. Those in the first group had all died. We waited to see the second group, thinking they had survived. My husband was also in the second group. However, I and some others returned home and went back to the scene early in the morning so that we could find them in the daylight. Some women who were already there hugged me and told me that he was dead, several words that made my world turn black. People in our village put all their bodies side by side, the image was that of a mass massacre. I was still looking for my husband’s body as villagers had already started to take them to the village one by one. However, I still couldn’t believe he was dead as I was expecting him to come and say me that he hadn’t died. Then I saw a tractor trailer where many bodies had been put all together one on the top of the other. I looked for my husband until I saw his head and chin smashed. I nearly fainted at the sight of his face but there was nobody to console or to take care of me as everybody was looking for the bodies of their own children and husbands. I hugged him, begged him to stand up as we were going to have a baby who with its with tiny hands would not manage to hold on to life without him. However, he never stood up. The pain of my husband didn’t let me see the bodies of my other relatives killed there.”

Semire says that life in the villages of Roboski and Gülyazı never returned to normal since the massacre. She complains about having nobody to understand the pain of the relatives of the victims who she says have enjoyed no pleasure in life in the last one year. Referring to PM Erdoğan’s wife Emine Erdoğan’s visit to the village, Semire tells that; “When she asked me about the amount of our income and how we used to make a living, I asked her to ask her husband what gave him the right to make us suffer that pain. She turned to me and asked “You were living in an earth-sheltered house, weren’t you?”. Then she told her guard to remind her to give us a house and 10 thousand TL. Then I said her that a house or even a palace would mean nothing to me without my husband and I refused to take the money and the house she promised.”

Describing her husband as a friendly and warmhearted man who never did anyone any wrong, Semire tells that she had been prevented to do so by other people around when she wanted to throw herself into the deep grave digged by a scooper during the burial of victims. Encü says that since her husband’s death; “I feel more sorry for myself than for my new born baby now that I bear tremendous responsibility for my family. My baby isn’t like the other children as he has never smiled since his birth, while other children continue to play games and having a good time. I feel as if my son is always looking for his father, as if he knew his father was murdered. He wakes up in the middle of the night and starts crying, which also makes me cry with him for long hours deep into the night. When I took my son to Cizre (district of Şırnak) for his circumcision, my husband’s face swam before my eyes when I saw a place where we had had a lunch before. Now I see him everywhere I look. We have gone through terrible times which I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I named my son after my husband and had him registered as Barış Hüsnü Encü on his identity card . I called him Barış (peace in English) because I want my baby to bring peace to this world. I want him to contribute to world peace and a world without massacres. I wrote Hüsnü Encü on two bangles I put on his arms to bring him good luck.”

ANF NEWS AGENCY
(en.firatnews.com)