In Sorrow (back)
Today I received the news that Göngör Yurdakul, the wife of the journalist Dogan Yurdakul, who still is in prison, has died. She already had cancer before his arrest.
Erdogans’s regime, praised by European politicians in many newspapers and from whom they expect a democratic Islamic state to be established in Turkey, daily destroys the lives of lots of journalists, professors, doctors, artists and military service objectors.
Freedom of thought only exists for Erdogan and the likes of him.
Please do not believe all this talk about Erdogan and a strong Turkey. Please remember that many dissidents are in prison and consider the number of murdered women has significantly risen since Erdogan and his sort are in power.
Erdogan may have produced a few paragraphs that appeal to Europe to mislead European politicians and journalists with this farce, but is doing the opposite in his country.
Erdogan will not manage to destroy all others because there are more of them than he realizes.
Dogan Yurdakul was a journalist, who was put in prison (Mamak) in 1971 by the coup 12 Mart for 2 years, together with Deniz Gezmis (the student leader) and the later renown filmmaker, Yilmaz Güney, in a joint cell. He left Paris in 1968 and instead of continuing to read law at the Sorbonne, Dogan returned to Turkey to fight for it’s independence. Dogan Yurdakul’s passion for independence and journalism did not end and with the military junta on the 12 Eylül 1980 the department of public prosecution demanded 100 years penalty for the columns he had written.
Dogan fled to Europe, returned and continued writing in Aydinlik and Evrensel’de. He represented the political TV program called the 32. Day in Ankara. Dogan was the coordinator of the newspapers Aksam and Siyah-Beyaz. He relentlessly wrote several books: “Çete”, “Reis”, “Bay Pipo”, “Sirlarin Kavsagi”, did many translations from French into Turkish and wrote a Turkish-French Dictionary. He wrote against the mafia, deceitful political plans, about victims of the military junta, he wrote tirelessly and without fear.
Until the Erdogan era.
Until his arrest.
He wanted to topple the government! Surely he would have survived these times as well, but his wife did not make it – she has died. She had cancer.
I translated the letter from Dogan Yurdakul in prison full of sorrow and anger.
Dogan Yurdakul wrote from prison:
“My wife Güngör Yurdakul has died!
You will remember her name from the letter that Soner Yalcin wrote from prison: She had cancer. She was my wife, the wife of the coordinator of ODA TV, arrested because of Ergenekon, the wife of the arrested Dogan Yurdakul.
She could not visit me for the last few months. She was notable to move any longer.
Soner Yalcin asked for mercy, for the permission for us to see each other once more. I violently opposed this request. So many years we had lived together, without ever being dependent on the mercy of others…
We shared a lot of sorrow.
But when the police came to take me away, I anticipated that I would hear of her death in prison.
I am Dogan Yurdakul.
I am the hand, the eyes, the heart, the voice of this proud man …
I ask you to read the words written …
If half of my tears are for Güngör-Dogan Yurdakul, the other half are for this regime that has brought sorrow to many intellectuals, journalists and authors. My name is Dogan Yurdakul. The court has finally taken pity and granted me 2 days to attend the funeral. The permission not granted, for me to visit her and say good-bye, has now been granted for the funeral that she will not be aware of.
I am Dogan Yurdakul.
I have lost my wife. I knew she would die, I had said my good-bye… When the police took me by the arm and my wife regarded me desperately and full of sorrow, I understood that I was seeing her for the last time…
The police treated me like a terrorist.
They threw our books off the shelves onto the floor, the books my wife had lovingly arranged.
They searched our apartment, they rummaged through everything. I still did not bend, did not sell myself, for anything…
I remained straight like a pen, defiant like ink …
The crown prosecutor had a hard time making up something to accuse me of …
I am the man whose guilt nobody has understood.
I am Dogan Yurdakul.