No Disaster is Isolated, No Life is Alone
As we – an international community of mourners – have buried more than 49,000 people in the wake of the massive earthquake in Türkiye and Syria on February 6, we – as individuals – have taken on our part of this collective pain differently.
Some of us have entered into a state of shock, denial or anger; some were overwhelmed with the desire to help or at least try to maintain some sort of stability. Some of us pretended to continue life as it was before the disaster, while putting distance between ourselves and the news as a defense. Some of us were glued to the TV or had pain in our fingers from swiping through the news and messages in social media on our smartphones.
Even though we expressed our grief in different patterns of reactions to the disaster, under the surface, our emotions, thoughts and feelings oscillated from the negative to the positive, whatever range we could bear.
We processed what happened through all of these stages. Some were stronger than others. Some of us suppressed our feelings; some of us used them to fuel our efforts to address the root of the problems. We connected to the disaster differently because we have different lenses to view it, reflect on it and ultimately, process it. But at the same time, we all reacted to it, because we are the same.
It is easy to see others, and harder to see yourself. What was my reaction? Did I – and do I – have enough courage to face my reaction? My initial response was to get the word out and ask people I could reach in various ways to contribute to the funds that would be used to rescue victims. I limited my news consumption and carved time to digest it as much as possible.
When I moved back to Türkiye a month before the earthquake – after living over two decades in the United States – I didn’t know that my first challenge here would be integrating the impacts of a major national disaster into my new life. I didn’t know that the clothes I packed months ago, with the thought that I would wear them in my new city, would continue their journey to become donations for victims. I brainstormed with my friends all around the world to find out what we could do to help the survivors and build a more sustainable life for them, for all of us. Regardless of our heritage, religion, sex, race or interest, the pain united us.
As the identities of the people who were found dead everyday were reduced to a number in the rolling count of deaths, we were still hopeful that some, while buried under debris, were waiting to be found alive.
We kept our hope alive. We needed that. More hope had the potential to stir in us, if we could see the disaster had lessons for us – on the personal, local and even global levels. We agreed that we should develop a better understanding of what it means to be in sync with the earth while we are building cities – and our lives.
Türkiye imposed a three-month state-of-emergency in 10 provinces hit hardest by the earthquake where dozens of countries came together in rescue efforts. Local and global NGOs stepped in to take care of the survivors. Companies, groups and individuals came up with creative ways of fixing immediate problems, including dealing with freezing temperatures, providing necessities and shelter, and relocating survivors.
No disaster is isolated. No life is alone. We are all connected. The earthquake on February 6 triggered aftershocks and another one just two weeks later, during the new moon. Türkiye, the country, not just the earthquake area, is alert on upcoming earthquakes and assessing their homes to find out if their buildings can survive one.
Me? My clothes that were not donated are still in suitcases and boxes in a new place I cannot call my home just yet. It has been almost two months since I landed in Istanbul. I made sure the closet I purchased was attached to the wall with long steel nails to secure in case of an earthquake, but it is still empty.
The constant noise from the highway keeps reminding me of the life out there, my responsibilities and actions I could take. I need peace, though, to digest, reflect and decide which actions to take. I attempt to find some semblance of inner peace by listening to meditation songs for hours and not hear the noise of the highway, which I can see from my living room window. I know one day I will attain my inner peace in the amidst the noise, and I will hear the songs of birds instead. From where I write these sentences, I can see the birds flying around outside but I cannot hear or really fully appreciate their beauty yet.
As an action, I have decided that I will help children who have been affected by this disaster. That is a long-term project. I am talking to Turkish Philanthropy Fund (TPF) to find an NGO to work with. I don’t want to be tuned into the highway noise nonstop but connect to my senses. My friends in Glen Ridge, my old home, and my friends all around the world are willing to help me on the fundraising campaign. I want to build a bridge of good intentions across the continents. Don’t we need good intentions first to build something good?
