It’s around 9 pm in Izmir, Turkey when my rather quiet apartment becomes the middle of a clinking and clanking orchestra. It has been eleven days since the protests in Izmir had started, but every night has been as loud as the last. When I moved to Turkey I knew little about it. But in the last week and a half I’ve never learned so much about a people in such a short time in all my travels. This all started when a park in Istanbul became a war-zone. I remember watching the TV, seeing people tear gassed, pepper sprayed and blasted with fire hoses. As my friend translated for me the events I was seeing in Gezi park and Taksim Square, I saw the fire in his eyes that would soon take over the country. The protests went viral over facebook and twitter but the Turkish media would not cover it, hoping that the protests would be suppressed. What it did do however, was increase the anger. Soon protests would spread to Ankara, Adana and my current place of residence Izmir. I figured the protests in Izmir would be minor, but I would soon find out the hard way (being tear gassed walking home) that it would be quite different than I imagined. Those first day’s started peaceful, but as night fell on the city so did anarchy. Thrash was burned on the streets, bus stops and street signs were ripped from the ground, and banks and government buildings were tore to pieces. I was curious as to why the rather peaceful Turks of Izmir had seem to spin into this war with the police. I soon learned that the Revolutionaries were to blame, Using the opportunity to spin the modern city into a clash against the normally respectable and rather peaceful officers of the law. The police were no better, confused and outnumbered, they didn’t know who to target. Sometimes attacking and beating innocent people just walking down the street. I watched in horror as ten men grabbed a young girl and commenced to strike her with batons until she fortunately escaped. The people however, understood the problem and were quick to fix it. They were able to talk to the police and restore balance. The provocateurs were soon on the enemy list of the larger peaceful protesters and the city was restored to a more peaceful state. The protests became larger but the style was much different. Fireworks and patriotic music blast throughout the night where thousands of people gather to drink and cheer for the sovereignty of their beloved country. The protests are over a government that the people fear has overstepped its bounds. Recent law’s dealing with drinking, public affection and the fear of an increasing Islamist authoritarianism is the fuel behind millions of Turks banding together who would rather say the sky was purple just to disagree with their opponent. People of all religions, and even more frightening different football teams, have locked arms side by side. The momentum is still strong no matter how many people are arrested or beat. So every night at nine pm, when the pots and pans start beating in balconies across the city. I hear the passion of a whole country, a group of people who’s defiance is know worldwide and a city that has put aside their differences in a hope keep Turkey a place for their children to enjoy.
