By Baghdadhope
If you were in Istanbul, and if in an early Sunday morning you passed along Istiklal Caddesi, the busy and lively pedestrian arterial street that from Taksim Sq. to the wide strecht of Tünel Sq. goes through the nineteenth century district of Beyoglu, you probably could see among the few people walking it by that hour some hasty passers-by, their stare down, their clothes decent but poor to a closer look.
If you followed their going you could notice that they do not stop for the first coffee of the day, nor linger to watch the windows of the still closed shops, but go on to disappear beneath some arches and cross the courtyard of the church of St. Anthony of Padua, at 325 of Istiklal Caddesi.
If you, then, had the patience and the curiosity to follow those hasty passers-by you could see them crossing the courtyard and disappear down a staircase on the left side of the church to reach the crypt under it, maybe after a glance to the bronze statue in memory of the visit Benedict XVI made in Turkey in 2006, and after crossing themselves as a sign of deference.
And if you too went down that staircase you would be surprised to be greeted by a litany in a unknown language that does not "sound" as Turkish, and certainly is neither the English nor the Italian used for the celebrations upstairs, and maybe you would be surprised to be told that you are listening to the musicality of the Aramaic or Arabic language.
And if it were summer you would be affected by the heat and humidity that the walls of the crypt ooze, and that is multiplied by the tens or hundreds of people crowding it. And looking at these people you would understand by their expressions how much suffering was their life, and that their stories could fill pages and pages of a not yet written book, the flight of Iraqi Christians.
"One day, celebrating the Mass, a faithful, a young girl, fainted right before my eyes" told me Father Amer Youkhanna, a Chaldean priest studying in Rome and who is now near to the license in moral theology, and who in September worked for the community of Istanbul.
What Father Amer was referring to is one of the many problems the Iraqi Chaldean community that found refuge in Turkey fleeing war and violence must address. In Istanbul there are two churches that receive them for the functions, as explained in 2006 the Patriarchal Vicar of Diarbekird and Amida of the Chaldeans, Father François Yakan, in a interesting report for the Osservatore Romano: the chapel of the Archbishopric and the crypt of the church of St. Anthony of Padua, run by the Order of Franciscan Friars Minor.
If in the chapel of the Archbishopric gathers the predominantly Turkish Chaldean community so that the liturgical languages used there are, precisely, Aramaic and Turkish, it's in the crypt of St. Anthony who meet, count themselves and tell each other their stories the Chaldeans who arrived in Turkey out of desperation.
If you followed their going you could notice that they do not stop for the first coffee of the day, nor linger to watch the windows of the still closed shops, but go on to disappear beneath some arches and cross the courtyard of the church of St. Anthony of Padua, at 325 of Istiklal Caddesi.
If you, then, had the patience and the curiosity to follow those hasty passers-by you could see them crossing the courtyard and disappear down a staircase on the left side of the church to reach the crypt under it, maybe after a glance to the bronze statue in memory of the visit Benedict XVI made in Turkey in 2006, and after crossing themselves as a sign of deference.
And if you too went down that staircase you would be surprised to be greeted by a litany in a unknown language that does not "sound" as Turkish, and certainly is neither the English nor the Italian used for the celebrations upstairs, and maybe you would be surprised to be told that you are listening to the musicality of the Aramaic or Arabic language.
And if it were summer you would be affected by the heat and humidity that the walls of the crypt ooze, and that is multiplied by the tens or hundreds of people crowding it. And looking at these people you would understand by their expressions how much suffering was their life, and that their stories could fill pages and pages of a not yet written book, the flight of Iraqi Christians.
"One day, celebrating the Mass, a faithful, a young girl, fainted right before my eyes" told me Father Amer Youkhanna, a Chaldean priest studying in Rome and who is now near to the license in moral theology, and who in September worked for the community of Istanbul.
What Father Amer was referring to is one of the many problems the Iraqi Chaldean community that found refuge in Turkey fleeing war and violence must address. In Istanbul there are two churches that receive them for the functions, as explained in 2006 the Patriarchal Vicar of Diarbekird and Amida of the Chaldeans, Father François Yakan, in a interesting report for the Osservatore Romano: the chapel of the Archbishopric and the crypt of the church of St. Anthony of Padua, run by the Order of Franciscan Friars Minor.
If in the chapel of the Archbishopric gathers the predominantly Turkish Chaldean community so that the liturgical languages used there are, precisely, Aramaic and Turkish, it's in the crypt of St. Anthony who meet, count themselves and tell each other their stories the Chaldeans who arrived in Turkey out of desperation.
Click on "leggi tutto" for the whole interview to Fr. Amer Youkhanna by Baghdadhope
"There is no air in that crypt" said Father Amer, "the lease contract signed with the Franciscan friars does not include modifications to the crypt and so neither air conditioners nor equipment for the simple exchange of the air can be installed. Also in the church there are not suck kind of equipementes but at least there the openings to the outside allow the air exchange. Down in the crypt is a hell, and the use of floor fans would skyrocket the electrical consumption. On the other hand, the Archbishopric Curia could not face the expenses for a space of its own.
The number of faithful is not constant, it changes according to the granting of visas to third countries. But the conditions of those faithful, already sorely tried, shoul be considered more and should be alleviated. To meet each other for the Mass for them is not just a matter of faith, but also a moment of important gathering."
"There is no air in that crypt" said Father Amer, "the lease contract signed with the Franciscan friars does not include modifications to the crypt and so neither air conditioners nor equipment for the simple exchange of the air can be installed. Also in the church there are not suck kind of equipementes but at least there the openings to the outside allow the air exchange. Down in the crypt is a hell, and the use of floor fans would skyrocket the electrical consumption. On the other hand, the Archbishopric Curia could not face the expenses for a space of its own.
The number of faithful is not constant, it changes according to the granting of visas to third countries. But the conditions of those faithful, already sorely tried, shoul be considered more and should be alleviated. To meet each other for the Mass for them is not just a matter of faith, but also a moment of important gathering."
Father Amer was saddened while telling me his experience in Turkey.
Not that he did not know what does it mean to suffer, suffice it to say that he comes from Mosul, where he was born 27 years ago, and where he lived until September 2003 when he came to Rome to study Theology at Propaganda Fide, and then at the Alphonsian Academy to specialize in Moral Theology thanks to a scholarship granted to him by the Pontifical Irish College.
Not that he did not know what does it mean to suffer, suffice it to say that he comes from Mosul, where he was born 27 years ago, and where he lived until September 2003 when he came to Rome to study Theology at Propaganda Fide, and then at the Alphonsian Academy to specialize in Moral Theology thanks to a scholarship granted to him by the Pontifical Irish College.
"Maybe it is not right to say" he continued, "but it is really shocking to discover that many of those people without hope that the war brought to Turkey where they live on charity or menial jobs at home, in Iraq, were well-to-do persons who had studied, who had properties, who wanted to stay in Iraq, and who now has nothing more."
Yes. If the problem of dampness in the crypt of St.Antony afflicts the community during the Mass, the problems related to the situation it is living in Turkey must be faced daily.
It was Father Amer who explained me what happens to an Iraqi refugee - in our case a Christian one - who arrives in Turkey. First of all it must be said that Turkey does not grant visas to Iraqis fleeing their country, and then in most cases they come with a one month long touristic visa. With the money they managed to scrape by selling – better to say selling off - their properties in Iraq, these people rely on the "network" of refugees already living in Turkey.
Relatives and friends are their first contact. An accommodation must be found and the flats get crowded with old and new tenants. The luckiest ones sometimes "inherit" a house, meaning that a family finally granted a visa to emigrate arranges that another one takes its place in the renting of the flat and maybe leaves to the new tenants the furniture and the household furnishings. A sign of good luck for those leaving, and a relief for those who can finally have a bed and a wardrobe of their own.
The month granted by the touristic visa elapses in a flash. Everything is new. The city, the laws, the people, the language, and indeed Father Amer made me notice that according to him the situation of Iraqi refugees in Turkey is worse than those in Syria and Jordan, where "at least people speak Arabic."
At that point Iraqi Christians have no choice. Although the Turkish government doesn’t apply the rule for the repatriation of illegal immigrants, to stay in a state of lawlessness is not wise.
And then the church that runs a special office where this people are helped to fill in the forms to register as refugees intervenes. What the Church asks to them is only the baptism certificate proving that it has been given in Iraq, and no matter by which church, whether Catholic or Orthodox, it is not the case to make differences.
Once the forms are filled in the person goes first to the Ministry of Interior to register as a refugee, and then to the offices of UNHCR, the High Commissioner for Refugees of the United Nations that will seek, consistent with the availability of seats within the Iraqi refugees quota that any country accepts, to resettle this people in a third country.
At that precise moment the longer period for the new refugee begins: waiting for a visa that, however, it is not said it will be granted. "There is a young boy, he is 24 no, maybe 25 years old" Father Amer said, "this young man in Mosul was one of the guards of the Archdiocese, I know him personally, and I know that he had been beaten and threatened many times. Once arrived in Turkey he appealed to several embassies, American, Australian, Canadian, but there was nothing to do, no one believed him and he did not have the visa.
Sometimes the visa is not given even to those who can prove to have been abducted, sometimes because if, for example, the certificate of baptism was drafted in Zakho, a town on the border between northern Iraq and Turkey, the area is considered as a safe one. Sometimes it is sufficient that a person contradicted himself answering even to a single question in the talks to see the hope of a new life vanish."
The waiting of the refugees in Turkey is painful. The Turkish government grants them nothing in practice and sometimes, in concert with UNHCR, some families are also moved in small towns far from Istanbul where their conditions depend on city regulations, maybe even in their favor as in the cases - a few anyway – in which half of the lease contract is paid for them. One advantage that in any case doesn’t make up for the isolation of those families who can no longer count on the network of fellow refugees and coreligionists.
Those families can’t obtain, but this case concerns also and especially those living in Istanbul, a work permit and therefore are forced to find a work off the books, made up of exploitation and wages that, if and when paid, are poor. There is no health assistance for refugees who are forced to pay for everything, including any emergency hospitalization. Only vaccinations for children are free. It is Father Amer who tells:
"A woman was ill, badly ill, and her husband was forced to bring her to hospital where, however, a few days after his wife died. To return the body the hospital requested the payment of the days of hospitalization: 20,000$. An impossible figure that after several pressure was reduced to 15,000$ paid thanks to a collection among the communities in Turkey and abroad. Only then the remains of the woman were returned for the funeral and the burial in Turkish ground. The refugees have no money to live, let alone to repatriate a deceased. It's so sad.”
It was Father Amer who explained me what happens to an Iraqi refugee - in our case a Christian one - who arrives in Turkey. First of all it must be said that Turkey does not grant visas to Iraqis fleeing their country, and then in most cases they come with a one month long touristic visa. With the money they managed to scrape by selling – better to say selling off - their properties in Iraq, these people rely on the "network" of refugees already living in Turkey.
Relatives and friends are their first contact. An accommodation must be found and the flats get crowded with old and new tenants. The luckiest ones sometimes "inherit" a house, meaning that a family finally granted a visa to emigrate arranges that another one takes its place in the renting of the flat and maybe leaves to the new tenants the furniture and the household furnishings. A sign of good luck for those leaving, and a relief for those who can finally have a bed and a wardrobe of their own.
The month granted by the touristic visa elapses in a flash. Everything is new. The city, the laws, the people, the language, and indeed Father Amer made me notice that according to him the situation of Iraqi refugees in Turkey is worse than those in Syria and Jordan, where "at least people speak Arabic."
At that point Iraqi Christians have no choice. Although the Turkish government doesn’t apply the rule for the repatriation of illegal immigrants, to stay in a state of lawlessness is not wise.
And then the church that runs a special office where this people are helped to fill in the forms to register as refugees intervenes. What the Church asks to them is only the baptism certificate proving that it has been given in Iraq, and no matter by which church, whether Catholic or Orthodox, it is not the case to make differences.
Once the forms are filled in the person goes first to the Ministry of Interior to register as a refugee, and then to the offices of UNHCR, the High Commissioner for Refugees of the United Nations that will seek, consistent with the availability of seats within the Iraqi refugees quota that any country accepts, to resettle this people in a third country.
At that precise moment the longer period for the new refugee begins: waiting for a visa that, however, it is not said it will be granted. "There is a young boy, he is 24 no, maybe 25 years old" Father Amer said, "this young man in Mosul was one of the guards of the Archdiocese, I know him personally, and I know that he had been beaten and threatened many times. Once arrived in Turkey he appealed to several embassies, American, Australian, Canadian, but there was nothing to do, no one believed him and he did not have the visa.
Sometimes the visa is not given even to those who can prove to have been abducted, sometimes because if, for example, the certificate of baptism was drafted in Zakho, a town on the border between northern Iraq and Turkey, the area is considered as a safe one. Sometimes it is sufficient that a person contradicted himself answering even to a single question in the talks to see the hope of a new life vanish."
The waiting of the refugees in Turkey is painful. The Turkish government grants them nothing in practice and sometimes, in concert with UNHCR, some families are also moved in small towns far from Istanbul where their conditions depend on city regulations, maybe even in their favor as in the cases - a few anyway – in which half of the lease contract is paid for them. One advantage that in any case doesn’t make up for the isolation of those families who can no longer count on the network of fellow refugees and coreligionists.
Those families can’t obtain, but this case concerns also and especially those living in Istanbul, a work permit and therefore are forced to find a work off the books, made up of exploitation and wages that, if and when paid, are poor. There is no health assistance for refugees who are forced to pay for everything, including any emergency hospitalization. Only vaccinations for children are free. It is Father Amer who tells:
"A woman was ill, badly ill, and her husband was forced to bring her to hospital where, however, a few days after his wife died. To return the body the hospital requested the payment of the days of hospitalization: 20,000$. An impossible figure that after several pressure was reduced to 15,000$ paid thanks to a collection among the communities in Turkey and abroad. Only then the remains of the woman were returned for the funeral and the burial in Turkish ground. The refugees have no money to live, let alone to repatriate a deceased. It's so sad.”
Money. Here's the problem with these people. The money they brought from home, little or a lot, runs out quickly, and so the only aids come from the NGOs operating in the country whose blanket is, as always, too short to cover everyone, and, for those who have, from relatives emigrated to other countries who do their best when they can: "A family used to receive 200$ each month from the sister of the wife who had married an American citizen and lived in the United States. That money didn’t make the family rich but it certainly was better than nothing. One day the woman in America divorced and her residence permit was withdrawn under the charge that she had contracted a bogus marriage to get citizenship and so the family in Turkey did not get the 200$ anymore. "
Money for food, for clothing, for medicines, for the school. Yes, the school. There is no right to education in Turkey for small Iraqi refugees. A lacking right that makes the parents suffer because they know that the future of their children, there or elsewhere, is related to their education, and who fear that the long hours that children spend playing in the streets can turn into potential dangers.
"The only chance they have to study" says Father Amer, "is a small school run by Caritas in the Kurtulus district where most of Iraqis live, and that is entrusted to Father Rodolfo Antoniazzi, a Salesian. In that school children can have a primary education (but they are not taught scientific subjects) and a basic understanding of English because that is the language they can use anywhere in the world. English that is also taught to adults for the same reason. The problems however do not lack and beside that of a low-skilled staff in teaching the children they are mainly associated to the cleanliness of the classes and the bathrooms and to the water the children drink. The school does not provide bottled water even if the tap one has been officially declared as undrinkable by the government and so many children fall ill."
Money for food, for clothing, for medicines, for the school. Yes, the school. There is no right to education in Turkey for small Iraqi refugees. A lacking right that makes the parents suffer because they know that the future of their children, there or elsewhere, is related to their education, and who fear that the long hours that children spend playing in the streets can turn into potential dangers.
"The only chance they have to study" says Father Amer, "is a small school run by Caritas in the Kurtulus district where most of Iraqis live, and that is entrusted to Father Rodolfo Antoniazzi, a Salesian. In that school children can have a primary education (but they are not taught scientific subjects) and a basic understanding of English because that is the language they can use anywhere in the world. English that is also taught to adults for the same reason. The problems however do not lack and beside that of a low-skilled staff in teaching the children they are mainly associated to the cleanliness of the classes and the bathrooms and to the water the children drink. The school does not provide bottled water even if the tap one has been officially declared as undrinkable by the government and so many children fall ill."
If only the reader could have listened to the words and cross the eyes of Father Amer while he was telling me what he had seen in Istanbul he would have understood that the condition of those refugees is more painful than any description can make perceptible.
Father Amer, I asked, what these people hope? What do they dream of?
With no hesitation his answer was: "Going abroad. They dream of emigrating, of leaving Turkey, of starting again from scratch in a country - any country - that wants to give them a chance. They are good people who do not deserve what is happening to them. It is obvious that none of them has forgotten their homeland, that in a small corner of their heart their ultimate hope is to return to live in Iraq as Iraqis, but by now those who go back do it only because they have no more money to live in Turkey, especially if they have not been included in the lists of UNHCR."
And you, Father Amer, what do you hope for them?
"That Europe open its doors and welcome them because they deserve it."