blue penguin and riot dog

It has been ten days since police took over Gezi Park in a cloud of gas and a deluge of pepper-spray tainted water. I had no idea when I sketched the Park's blue penguin, that it would all disappear that very night. We still cannot enter the park. At this moment, it is completely roped off with tape and heavily guarded by a myriad of policemen. Taksim is surrounded by busloads of cops, some clutching machine guns with bored expressions. This weekend they unleashed another fog of gas upon protesters— people who were merely standing, and tossing carnations in the air.



On Friday I was lucky to walk out of a pub to find the "Scooter Dog Guy" (as I call him) making his way through the very same clogged back alley in Tünel. I've been wanting to sketch this man and his pooch for years, but was never close enough to him until that night. Every so often, the mustachioed man can be seen riding his scooter around Istanbul, his faithful friend perched upon his shoulders— while wearing a pair of white sunglasses. I kid you not. Lately, the hound has received some notice, becoming known as the Riot Dog of Istanbul, due to his uplifting presence at the Occupy Gezi protests.

I have no idea how long I stood there in that dark alley, drawing and chatting to this fabulous duo, occasionally stopping to pet Riot Dog's patient head. I still can't believe I got the sketch!

the men in blue

from the perspective of children

Yesterday afternoon, before the police raid on Gezi Park, I took these photos of drawings made by children. There was a small art workshop in one of the tents, and the drawings were strung up like Tibetan prayer flags between trees. The earlier rain had warped these precious works of art, which tell the story of the resistance from the point of view of its smallest members.



In the first drawing, police are gas bombing inside someone's house, while a sad bird watches. The second drawing describes the death of many different kinds of animals (including a panda), while the third shows a shopping mall on the left, and on the right, a man chopping down trees in Gezi Park. Though the rain had washed away much of the final drawing, you can still make out a police TOMA vehicle spraying people with water, which we now know is tainted with pepper spray chemicals.



Gezi Park is entirely cleared out today, and occupied by police.
Everything is gone.

this crime

This morning I went back to the doctor to check on the rash that has taken over my torso and legs, and was told that I am most likely reacting to the gas I've been exposed to, which is what I had figured. On the way back, I spent some time in Gezi Park, sketching and exploring the area. People were preparing the soil in a section of the park for an organic vegetable garden. Children were painting pictures in the shade of a tent. The LGBT Block was preparing snacks. There was dancing, singing, relaxing, and swinging in the playground. It was lovely.



At around 20:50, I watched in horror from my home, as police stormed Taksim. The park was gassed, and water cannons shot what is believed to be chemically tainted water at protesters. Bulldozers moved in to raze the tents. There were children in the park. People sought refuge in the Divan Hotel, which was then gassed by the police. Ambulances were not allowed into the Park. It has been said that doctors who volunteered to treat the wounded were arrested. Reporters have been kept out of the park, and targeted by police. Many people are hurt.

I can hear loud booms outside my window, and what sound like gunshots— this I assume is the firing of teargas, though there are plenty of reports that police are also firing rubber bullets at people.

What is happening here is a crime.

If you would like to see photos of what is happening now in Taksim, visit #occupygezipics— but I must warn you that some photos are graphic and disturbing.

wasteland

After spending the night feeling like someone was sitting on my chest and realising that I was developing a strange rash, I decided to try and go to the doctor. The sky was a violet grey as the rain gently fell on the ruins of the barricade which once blocked my neighbourhood from the advances of policemen in tanks, or TOMAs. The ground was littered with fresh cardboard rings from fired gas canisters and the Square was desolate— save for a few people attempting to go about their business, under the watchful eyes of policemen hidden within vehicles and relaxing on plastic lawn chairs. I naively hoped that the metro would be open, and it was not. I wrapped my scarf tightly around my bare arms and headed through Gezi Park— as the quickest path between two points is a straight line.



My heart ached between my sore lungs as I surveyed what was once a site of peace and freedom of expression. After police moved in on Taksim yesterday, Gezi was now a windswept mess of torn tents and debris. A few protesters sang and danced hand-in-hand to the tune of a guitar, while people attempted to clean up the litter that was plastered to the wet grass and pavement. I could not tell if people were still in the tents— it all looked so hollow. How much longer can this violence continue? Lawyers and Twitterers are being arrested, and I've been told that the Imam who dared to deny the claim that protesters entered his mosque with beer bottles and shoes on has now "gone on vacation". News channels who are live streaming the events are being accused of "harming the development of youth". I don't know what to say anymore.



I carry a small dust mask in my bag and now, an inhaler. My bronchioles are inflamed, and at the advice of my doctor, I will share my inhaler with anyone who needs it.



People will need it.

peaceful protest

Before I went to Lebanon for the weekend, Gezi Parkı felt like a festival. There were morning yoga classes, dance performances and live music, art workshops, food vendors, improvised libraries, and people camped out of any patch of green. I fear that this atmosphere of peace and cooperation will come to an end soon— I just really hope that it won't be violent. Please know that the protesters (with the exception of a very, very few young hooligans) are everyday citizens who are reading books, banging pots and pans, and cleaning up the mess left behind. They are merely voicing their opposition to the government, and standing up for what they believe in. They are from all walks of life, ethnic backgrounds, young and old.

chapulling

A new word in the English language has been born of this revolution: chapulling. The word comes from the Turkish çapulcu, meaning 'marauder'— a term that the Prime Minister used to refer to the protesters. The term was embraced and reappropriated by the public, and as people proudly called themselves çapulcu, the meaning of the word shifted to being "someone who stands up for their rights." The label was soon anglicized into chapuller, from which came chapulling: "to act towards taking the democracy of a nation to the next step by reminding governments of their reason for existence in a peaceful and humorous manner." Indeed, there has been plenty of chapulling around in Istanbul— one visit to Gezi Parkı and you'll see the witty slogans and comical street art, the make-shift library tents and free yoga. People standing up for what they believe in, working together, reminding their government that they should only exist to serve the people.

gezi parkı

I have to interrupt the posts from Urfa because I find what is happening in Taksim, in my home, disturbing. For the past three days, people have gathered in Gezi Parkı in Taksim to protest the removal of trees for the massive construction project that the government begun last fall. The plan to turn one of the area's last green spaces into a shopping mall, moved people to peacefully occupy the park. In response, police have attacked protestors with tear gas and water cannons, injuring many, hospitalizing some. I do not know the exact figures, nevertheless, when I came home from work today, my neighbourhood looked like a war zone. My eyes and throat burned, I saw legions of riot police forming a wall on the other side of the newly built tunnel, blocking the square. Then, POP-POP-POP! I turned around and saw a thick yellow cloud rising, moving towards me.

Unarmed citizens are being gassed, sprayed point-blank in the face with chemicals, and assaulted by high-pressured water cannons.

They even gassed the metro. The metro.

This is not right.

Please be warned, some images are graphic:
Occupy Gezi on Tumblr
Photos on Hurriyet Daily News.com