97 people maybe more died yesterday in Ankara, Turkey. Hundreds wounded.
Sometimes words are so simple.
Especially in times of pain.
It was a peace rally organised by numerous organisations mainly composed of young people.
When they were singing and dancing two bombings followed. Witnesses tell that some bodies collapsed on top of each other armouring others against the blast’s tremendous effect. That’s how they survived.
I could not look at the pictures. I never do after such incidents.
But I know the place -near Ankara Train Station -very well. When I was living in Ankara I used to go there every month to get into train to visit my family in my neighbouring hometown. Last time, one month ago, I was there with my friends dropping me to the train. Now the sweet memory of getting into train ruined with collapsing young bodies on top of each other protecting the survivors.
Have we died? Is this the hell?
That is not a dream of my country that I visioned when I was growing up.
That is not the country that our politicians promised us for the 21st century.
Everybody says they are not responsible.
So why do I taste blood in my mouth? Why do I feel guilty?
Have you seen The Peace?
I see The Peace in the middle of blood shed.
He is trying to get up pushing dead bodies aside.
Sitting in the full blood.
Looking at his hands of blood colour. He seems that he lost his mind.
Doctors say Peace will survive but he won’t be same again. He may not recover from this trauma he had yesterday.
I think I felt the most sinful day of my life loosing my hope.
I think I will not be same again. I am afraid.
I will not be same again.