I'm traveling around the country again this week. At this rate, we won't be able to get out of there easily. Because wherever one looks, there is another story, another strangeness. Moreover, life is now more generous to us than Aziz Nesin's stories.
Trabzonspor's world-famous football player Muhammed Salah is setting off from Trabzon; He says hello to Sumela and goes to Kurtdere Plateau. He sits on a stone he sees in the plateau, takes a photo of it and shares it. Whatever happens happens after that; stone ceases to be a stone and turns into a national issue.
People go to where Salah is sitting and start posing in the same pose. Those who did not know the way to that plateau until yesterday, those who did not see the garbage, plastics and waste left by the stream that I mentioned in my previous articles, suddenly become stone lovers.
The stone is no longer a stone.
“Salah's stone.”
It's even better afterwards.
Trabzon Metropolitan Municipality does not leave the stone alone. He places a bench next to it. There is a huge "Trabzon Metropolitan Municipality" written on it.
You stop for a moment and think:
Could it be that the stone is tired?
Is this subtlety so that visitors won't be left standing?
Or has a new era begun in urban planning: Wherever a famous person sits, there is a bench, and wherever he looks, there is an observation deck?
I don't know how many stories Aziz Nesin would have created from here if he were alive.
The funny thing is: Just a few days ago, the same city was flooded with rain. Water accumulated on the streets, vehicles could not move forward, and houses and workplaces were flooded. Airport surroundings, Değirmendere, Çömlekçi…
The images we know appeared again.
Of course, the teams went to the field and the work was done. Let's not ignore this. But in a week like this, the municipality's decision to place a bench next to the stone on which a football player is sitting inevitably brings other questions to one's mind.
Because it's not about the cost of a bench.
It's a matter of what we find important.
You won't see the garbage of the plateaus for years; A star football player comes, sits on the stone, and the fate of the stone changes.
The city is under water, we talk about infrastructure; The rain stops, we forget.
Then it rains again, the same images again.
But the stone is not forgotten.
The stone even has a bench.
I guess sometimes it's easier for us to put a sign next to the problem rather than solving it.
Just as I was thinking about these, the news from Manisa's Turgutlu district suddenly darkened all the humor of the week.
A student opened fire with a shotgun on children going to school. Eleven children were injured. The incident occurred approximately 80-100 meters away from the school building.
Minister of National Education Yusuf Tekin specifically made the following sentence in his statement:
“There was no school attack in Turgutlu.”
TRUE.
Technically it wasn't inside the school.
It happened a little outside of school.
The children were also going to school.
Well, sometimes people run out of words to say.
Because the moment we start discussing whether an event took place inside or outside the school gates, we miss the real question:
Why were eleven children shot?
How did a shotgun get into the hands of a child?
How did he get out on the street with a gun?
How could he open fire on children on their way to school?
The Minister's statement continued with warnings about the need for families to keep guns out of reach of children and to monitor who children communicate with on social media and online games.
I don't underestimate these.
But the first sentence sometimes trumps the whole explanation.
“There was no school attack in Turgutlu.”
Perhaps this is exactly what the country likes most lately:
Drawing boundaries.
If the incident occurs a hundred meters outside the school, it is not considered a school attack.
If the water does not enter the door of the house, it is not considered a flood.
If the garbage does not enter the photograph of the plateau, it is not considered a problem.
Before a famous person sits on the stone, no one cares where the stone is located.
Then someone comes and sits.
Suddenly everything becomes valuable.
I just finished the article here.
I took a look…
No benches!
Yes, you read that right.
The bench placed by the Trabzon Metropolitan Municipality next to the stone where Salah was sitting and the "Salah Plateau" sign disappeared overnight.
It turns out that the story also has a border issue.
Because Kurtdere Plateau, where the stone is located, is within the borders of Çorak village of Gümüşhane.
Reactions started on social media:
"This is Gümüşhane land. What is the bench marked Trabzon Metropolitan Municipality doing here?"
Then it was night.
Smoke settled on the plateau.
It's morning.
There is no bench.
There is no sign.
Who took it?
Unknown.
Çorak Village Headman also says that they do not know who removed it. He states that it may have been removed due to reactions on social media, but does not say anything definitive.
I guess the summary of the week is right here.
A football player is coming.
He sits on a stone.
The stone becomes famous.
A sign comes next to the stone.
The municipality brings banks.
Bank becomes a city issue.
Then cities come into play.
Borders are remembered.
And the bench disappears.
Stone?
The stone is still there.
It's the only thing that doesn't move in this whole story.
It was discussed first who owned the stone.
Then who owns the bench.
In Turgutlu, whether the attack took place inside or outside the school.
We can't talk about the real issue.
Perhaps this is the country's greatest talent:
Drawing the boundaries of the problem instead of solving it itself.
This week I opened the article with a stone.
I would finish with a bench.
The bench is gone, the stone remains.
And enough hometown stories for all of us.
