“The Story of Vefa“
They call me Vefa. Vefa (loyalty) is a very beautiful Turkish name. It means keeping your word, perseverance in friendship and love. I will tell you what happened to me, but first I would like to start with a marvelous story from the book ‘The Education of the Little Tree’ by Forrest Carter:
An old Native American man was sitting with his grandson in front of his cabin, watching two wolf dogs fighting. One dog is white, the other is black.
Little Tree, a ten-year-old boy, has seen these dogs fighting in front of his grandfather’s cabin for as long as he can remember. However, he thinks that one dog should be enough to guard the cabin.
One day, he asks his grandfather why they need the second dog and whether their colors have any meaning. The old man, with a wise smile, replies, “They are symbols for me, my son.”
“Symbols of what?” asks the boy.
“Symbols of good and evil,” says the grandfather. “Just like these dogs, good and evil constantly struggle within us. When I watch them, I always think about this. That’s why I keep them by my side.”
The boy ponders for a moment. If there is a struggle, there must also be a winner. With a child’s natural curiosity, he asks, “So, which one do you think wins this fight?”
His wise grandfather looks at him with a deep smile and says, “Which one, my son? The one I feed the most!”
The Struggle Between Good and Evil
Since the time of Adam’s sons, Abel and Cain, the battle between good and evil has never ceased. Human history is filled with examples of the struggle between the oppressors and the oppressed:
- The cry of Prophet Abraham against Nimrod,
- The resistance of Prophet Moses against Pharaoh and his paranoia,
- The millions of lives lost at the hands of dictators like Franco, Mussolini, and Hitler…
Tyrants who deny the right to life to those who are different from them have ruled in the past and, unfortunately, continue to do so today.
The author of these lines is also a victim of human rights violations, forced to seek asylum in the Netherlands due to oppression in his country.
Spring 2017, Konya, Turkey: “Evidence Found”
In the spring of 2017, while I was living with my wife, children, and mother-in-law, our doorbell rang at 11:00 PM.
When I curiously opened the door, I saw 20-25 police officers from the Counterterrorism Unit standing outside. I let them in. My wife and children were visibly anxious.
The police officers quickly scanned the house and, searching for “evidence of terrorism,” their first target was my library! I had turned one of the rooms into a study and personal library. There were almost two thousand books in my library.
The officers then ransacked the entire house, searching every corner. And they finally found what they were looking for! Out of two thousand books, three had been published by a publishing house that was shut down after the so-called July 15 coup attempt. These three books were recorded in the police report as “terrorist organization documents.”
It is said that when Baghdad was invaded in the 13th century, the Tigris River ran black with ink for days due to books being thrown into it.
Centuries may pass, but tyrants’ fear of books never changes!
The Weeping of a Mother and Her One-Month-Old Baby in Detention
After the search, I was taken into custody. The detention period was used to its very last second. For five days, I was kept in a cell with a detained doctor.
In the adjacent cell, two women. In another, around thirty teachers. In the next, about twenty judges and prosecutors. One of the women had a baby. Judging by the sound, the baby was at most one month old.
Every two hours, someone I assumed to be her grandmother brought the baby. The mother fed her child, then handed her back. Each time, the baby arrived crying. And after she was taken away, the mother cried non-stop for the next two hours.
I kept asking myself: What crime could this woman have committed to be detained while still recovering from childbirth? And what crime had that tiny baby committed? Whoever brought the child every two hours for the mother to feed him, what was their fault that they were in this situation? Bringing a baby every two hours for feeding means complete sleep deprivation!
Torture is not just physical violence! A whole family was subjected to torture.
I was a former police officer who was dismissed after the so-called July 15 coup attempt. Throughout my career, I worked with thousands of juvenile offenders and their families as part of my duty. My only concern was keeping our children away from crime. But now, what was being done to a tiny baby and her mother was unbearable for me. What I witnessed became a source of shame for me in the name of my profession.
In the following days, I heard this conversation. One of the detained women asked the police officers on duty:
“Please lock our doors as well.”
The police officers replied:
“You frequently go to the restroom to perform ablution. If we lock your doors, how will you go out?”
“We will call you, and you will come to open them!”
“There are nearly 100 detainees here. How can we attend to each one? Besides, all the men and women here are detained under the same case (FETÖ).”
“Please, lock our doors too. We do not feel safe!“
The woman, who had probably never even been to a police station before, was now forced to stay among dozens of unknown men. Moreover, she had just given birth, so she naturally felt extremely vulnerable. But the police never locked that door until the last day!
Later, I learned that both of these women were government employees.
A Hypertensive Crisis in Prison and a Bucket of Water
The prosecutor sent me to court. The court arrested me and sent to prison on the charge of “being a member of a terrorist organization.” My wife and children stood outside the courtroom, heartbroken but hoping to see their father one last time. I was placed in a police vehicle and sent to prison. I couldn’t find the strength to see my children and my wife. I couldn’t accept what I was going through.
Thus, my prison life began. Days turned into months. The injustice I faced started to affect my body as well.
I had been in prison for nearly two years. One night, as I lay down in my bed, I suddenly felt something was wrong. It felt as if the world was spinning. I could neither stand up nor call out. With difficulty, I knocked on the metal bars of my bed. Two inmates, who were still awake, noticed my state and called the prison guards.
The prison officials contacted the hospital, and an ambulance was dispatched. However, getting approval to be taken out of the cell and put in the ambulance required a long bureaucratic process.
While waiting, an inmate assigned to the prison infirmary said,”Your blood pressure is dangerously high,”and poured a bucket of cold water over my head. He also gave me a pill.
Outside, the temperature was minus nine degrees. I was trembling.Yet, despite my condition, I was still handcuffed when they took me to the ambulance.
I Am Afraid of Dying, but the Soldiers Think I Will Escape!
The doctor on duty in the emergency room first asked the prison guard what crime I was imprisoned for. Then he measured my blood pressure and gave me an injection. While I was getting an injection in one arm, my other arm was handcuffed to the bed! I was worried about my life, but the soldiers were worried that I might escape!
There is a Turkish proverb: “The sheep fears for its life, but the butcher only cares about the meat.” That was exactly the case.
After remaining semi-conscious for a while, I slowly started to come back to myself. I later learned that blood pressure and diabetes medications increase the urge to urinate. As I regained consciousness, I suddenly felt an intense need to go to the toilet. I told the guard on duty about my situation, and he replied, “I need to ask my commander.” However, the commander was chatting with the nurses.
When I repeated to the soldier that my situation was urgent, he reluctantly went to inform the commander. But the commander, not wanting to be disturbed, simply said, “Let him wait.”
At that point, I started shouting. I was in extreme discomfort and told them that if they didn’t take me to the toilet, I would relieve myself right where I was. There were hundreds of patients in the emergency room at that moment, including women and children. But only when I started shouting, did they finally agree to take me to the toilet.
However, when I reached the toilet, I encountered an even bigger shock. Being handcuffed wasn’t enough, the commander ordered one of the soldiers to enter the toilet with me! At that moment, I completely lost my patience and shouted:
“I will not go into the toilet! I will relieve myself right here in front of the door! Where have you ever seen a soldier entering a toilet with a prisoner?”
After this outburst, I was finally allowed to enter the toilet alone.
Hey Doctor, Do You Examine By Crime Categories?
Fortunately, medical examinations were completed. While the doctor was writing my prescription, I asked her:
“You have written me a prescription, but will you also give me some of the medications right now?”
“No, because bringing medicine from outside into the prison is not allowed,” she replied.
“Okay, external medicine is not allowed, but the medications you prescribed will take at least five or six days to reach me. I urgently need these medicines,” I said, but it didn’t work.
I couldn’t resist asking the doctor also the following question:
“When I first arrived, I was semi-conscious. I heard you asking the guard what crime I was imprisoned for. Would my crime category have changed the way you examined and treated me?”
I Didn’t Want to Die in Prison!
In the days following this crisis, although my trial continued, I was released from prison. However, during this period, neither the government nor the courts changed their stance. My faith in justice had already been completely shattered. Justice had become a servant of politics, and overnight, thousands of police officers, soldiers, judges, and prosecutors had been labeled as terrorists.
Years passed, but nothing changed. I and those around me knew that I had committed no crime, but it was useless. The Supreme Court upheld the sentence. I had to return to prison. Beyond being unjustly imprisoned, I was now also concerned for my life. I could not go back to prison again. I had no choice but to leave my country.
First, I escaped through illegal and difficult routes to Greece, and then I came to the Netherlands, a country at the forefront of justice and human rights.
Had I not made this decision, I could have been one of the many people in Turkish prisons who were left untreated despite their severe illnesses and lost their lives.
The Injustice I Faced Still Hurts!
When I look back, words are not enough to describe what I have been through. Moreover, I experienced all of this together with my family. They suffered at least as much as I did and felt the same sorrow.
I dedicated years of my life to my profession and my country. I worked hard to be beneficial to society. I made sacrifices in my personal and family life. I cannot comprehend what has been done.
I want to face those who committed these injustices. I want to look them in the eyes and ask: “Was this what I deserved for everything I did?”
However, my only expectation was a little loyalty!
Which One Are You Feeding: Good or Evil?
Still, I am grateful that I did not become the worse of good and evil.
Yet, when I think of those who are not as lucky as I am, those who are unjustly imprisoned in Turkish prisons, my eyes fill with tears.
When I wonder what I can do, the words of Little Tree’s grandfather come to my mind: “Whichever one I feed, that one will win.”
So, I wrote these lines to nourish goodness, even if only as much as an ant. To be a voice, even in the slightest way, for the victims in Turkey whose voices are silenced, who are not even allowed to speak in any media outlet.
In order to be loyal…
