The Taksim protests were refreshing.
After a few days of museum and mosque tours, we had some free time to cross the river and climb the hill to the Taksim Park.
There were crowds of people like schools of fish swimming up the stone steps to reach the hoard of thousands taking over the area.
We championed the ascending road that had been shut down days before. Graffiti claimed the face of buildings and windows the entire way up. Every few hundred feet was a roadblock, mounds of up faced bricks from the sidewalks, scaffolding rods from an abandoned construction site, gates, metal sheets and trash.
The buzz of the crowd was electric. We knew we had not reached the main sit-in, but we were already shaken by the extent of damage done to those few blocks.
There was no distinct societal group. There were young people, families, tourists, passionate protestors and vendors selling eye goggles, spray paint and Vendetta masks.
Thousands of protestors were clustered at the top of the hill, which dropped down to an arena like area that was the entrance to the actual park.
People posed for pictures and greeted us as they waved their Turkish flag while standing on top of a flipped and massacred car.
Gazing over the hazy meadow of people, hundreds of Ataturk faces were flapping in the breeze as spectators and protestors held their banners.
It was a peaceful environment.
It was obviously charged and raging in spirit, but the setting was not threatening.
The drone gobbled up newcomers, us especially as we held onto each other to navigate the crowd.
One of the activist started to talk to us and became our Taksim tour guide. He explained the various areas of the park, the background of the movement and the strength of the attitude there.
He translated the voice booming from the stage. “Everywhere Taksim, everywhere we will resist.”
We entered the park where people had set up campsites, more tortured cars were flipped, and there were a few food vendors.
None of us had taken part or witnessed this kind of activism, but we were in awe to have passed through Turkey during the few days it was happening.
Two days after our visit, reports of the police evacuating the protestors with water canons and tear gas filled the airways.
Though it wasn’t my cause, I felt the suffering of the people in Taksim.
It was inspiring to see the power of people under the influence of protest then disturbing and dumbfounding how those same people can be scattered like insects by a violent force.
After a few days of museum and mosque tours, we had some free time to cross the river and climb the hill to the Taksim Park.
There were crowds of people like schools of fish swimming up the stone steps to reach the hoard of thousands taking over the area.
We championed the ascending road that had been shut down days before. Graffiti claimed the face of buildings and windows the entire way up. Every few hundred feet was a roadblock, mounds of up faced bricks from the sidewalks, scaffolding rods from an abandoned construction site, gates, metal sheets and trash.
The buzz of the crowd was electric. We knew we had not reached the main sit-in, but we were already shaken by the extent of damage done to those few blocks.
There was no distinct societal group. There were young people, families, tourists, passionate protestors and vendors selling eye goggles, spray paint and Vendetta masks.
Thousands of protestors were clustered at the top of the hill, which dropped down to an arena like area that was the entrance to the actual park.
People posed for pictures and greeted us as they waved their Turkish flag while standing on top of a flipped and massacred car.
Gazing over the hazy meadow of people, hundreds of Ataturk faces were flapping in the breeze as spectators and protestors held their banners.
It was a peaceful environment.
It was obviously charged and raging in spirit, but the setting was not threatening.
The drone gobbled up newcomers, us especially as we held onto each other to navigate the crowd.
One of the activist started to talk to us and became our Taksim tour guide. He explained the various areas of the park, the background of the movement and the strength of the attitude there.
He translated the voice booming from the stage. “Everywhere Taksim, everywhere we will resist.”
We entered the park where people had set up campsites, more tortured cars were flipped, and there were a few food vendors.
None of us had taken part or witnessed this kind of activism, but we were in awe to have passed through Turkey during the few days it was happening.
Two days after our visit, reports of the police evacuating the protestors with water canons and tear gas filled the airways.
Though it wasn’t my cause, I felt the suffering of the people in Taksim.
It was inspiring to see the power of people under the influence of protest then disturbing and dumbfounding how those same people can be scattered like insects by a violent force.
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