The ancient Turkish city, cradle of Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman history, which ceased to exist after earthquakes

Antioch It has become a ghost town.

A thriving modern metropolis up close 400,000 inhabitants -and cradle of Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman history– now belongs to birds and earth-moving machinery.

The two massive earthquakes on February 6 wreaked havoc in southern Turkey, but the devastation in Antakya stands out. The night view shows a once bustling city that has been left in the dark.

Most striking is the sense of abandonment – ​​countless lives suddenly cut short – as survivors fled the city with what they could carry, leaving passports in the drawer, family photos on the wall and clothes hanging on the clothesline.

“Antakya bitti”, says the lament. “Antakya is over.”

– – –

Turks say Kurtulus Street was the first in history to be lit up at night. In modern times it was still alive at all times, a commercial area dotted with antique shops, restaurants and homes.

At one end of the street is Habib-i Neccar, one of the oldest mosques in Anatolia, now in ruins At the other end lies St. Peter’s Church, already several hundred years old when it was enlarged by the Christian Crusaders in the early 12th century. A staircase was damaged by the earthquakes, but the stone facade of the church remained unscathed.

Upstairs, outside a boutique hotel whose rooms are named after Hittite kings and Greek goddesses, are remnants of past lives: photocopied notes on gland tumors, a denim jacket used, a container of baby food.

Everything was eerily quiet until Mustafa Ugur came out of a building with a cardboard box in his hand.

“Look at that, it’s beautiful,” he said as he took a pigeon out of the box. “I came here to help old uncle and put his pigeons in a safe place.”

Ugur looked up at the roof, where an old man, not really his uncle, but a friend, was looking down. The pigeon fancier fears that his building will collapse again, explains the young man.

“So we decided to evacuate the birds.”

– – –

Even the buildings that remain standing in Antakya are criss-crossed with cracks that wind through bedrooms and kitchens. The curtains blow in the breeze through the broken windows and the holes in the wall. Skyscrapers that appear unscathed stand yards away from others that have crumbled into mounds of twisted metal and dust.

Sometimes it is the delicate objects that survive. A collection of sauces and vinegars fell out of a refrigerator. Expired Georgian passports and a collection of frilly hair clips sat safely in a drawer. A lidless jar, still intact, was spilling a fine green powder, with a handwritten note attached: “Nane,” Turkish for mint.

In some streets, soldiers stood guard to prevent looting. They huddled around makeshift fires, shivering with cold. The empty apartments despised them.

– – –

In the corners of the whole city, there were scattered colorful clothes, covered with a layer of dust. They had been given to the victims of the earthquake, but there were few inhabitants left to claim them. Most of those still present were search and rescue teams.

Veli and Yesim Bagi were the exception. Her sofa looked out of place and her neatly cleaned and tidied up belongings stood out among the rubble. They waited on the long, quiet road, their music store behind them, facing a once untouched park.

“This place was very beautiful,” says Veli, a music teacher.

“The neighborhood was new, most of the buildings were new. Everything was going to be perfect, everything had to be beautiful”.

He gestured to the wilted greenery in front of him. “The children were playing in this park. The parents of my students were resting in this park when I was teaching.”

He opened the piano and touched the keys. “My children’s footprints are still on the ivories,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Now we will have new students, we will teach other children.”

They also left the city, to Adana, where their parents were waiting for them in a house. But before, says Veli, he went on vacation with his wife.

(c) 2023, The Washington Post – Sarah Dadouch and Salwan Georges

Continue reading: