Letter to Osman Kavala
Dear Osman, many things have changed since the last time we met. I am sure you are following the news from your prison cell. Since they arrested you with unfair and unjust accusations, the world has turned upside down. Turkey became a harder place, and your efforts for mutual understanding and develop a culture of dialogue became more difficult to achieve.
Dear Osman,
For so long I want to ask you “how are you?” but I am afraid to do so.
The world outside your prison is not the same place since we last saw each other. I still remember very vividly our last meeting. It was in September 2016, at the eight International Hrant Dink Award ceremony in Istanbul. I arrived there by chance, as I was shortly in Istanbul on my way to Antep. I was travelling to do research on the Syrian opposition groups and the difficult humanitarian situation in areas under their control. We met at the hall of the Hrant Dink ceremony, and you told me you wanted to talk to me.
We agreed to meet the next day, but that meeting did not happen. A Syrian opposition leader wanted to see me, and I called to apologise to you. We agreed to talk and meet soon. I promised you that I will soon come back to Istanbul to meet you. In those days I travelled to Istanbul often, and you were a free man.
Dear Osman, I do not know whether you still remember what you wanted to tell me. I do not know how important it was, or whether it is still relevant to our world of today. What I know is that I have a deep feeling of rendez-vous manqué inside my heart, a feeling of guilt each time I think of you.
Since September 2016 I did not return to Istanbul, me who got used to visit that city 2-3-4-5 times a year. I miss Istanbul – it is our Bolis, the capital of Western Armenian culture, The City, the lost paradise. I miss Bolis but do not dare to return. How can I come back and break my promise to you once again, and not be able to meet you, to discuss, to imagine how we can make our world a better place?
I am afraid to see ugliness where before I found beauty.
Dear Osman, many things have changed since the last time we met. I am sure you are following the news from your prison cell. Since they arrested you with unfair and unjust accusations, the world has turned upside down. Turkey became a harder place, and your efforts for mutual understanding and develop a culture of dialogue became more difficult to achieve. Instead of reaching peace with the Kurds, the war continues. Instead of recognizing the Armenian genocide and repair what still can be repaired, Turkey supported Azerbaijan to attack Armenia and ethnically cleansed the entire Armenian population from there. They, like us, are uprooted and thrown into the wind.
This is not all. Russia’s Vladimir Putin decided to “liberate” Ukraine and is now killing every Ukrainian and destroying every Ukrainian town on his way. In the Middle East, the situation is not better. Israel, that country that was formed by genocide survivors, is accused of committing genocide against another people, against the Palestinians. And the killing of innocent Palestinian civilians is continuing every day, to a degree where I cannot watch the news anymore. As if that is not enough, Israel is destroying Lebanon – the country where I was born and grew up - village after village, building after building. And our “Western democracies” are supporting war crimes rather than come to the aid of victims, supporting the aggressor with words, money and weapons. In our Western democracies, our governments are closing the mouth of people criticising the crimes committed in the Middle East, and their own policies.
Dear Osman, you are in prison for too long now, for seven long years. In those years so many things have changed. There are thousands of people who enjoy the beautiful trees of Gezi Park, yet they are not free. Outside prison there are millions of people who are enslaved to the powers to be. Those who are accusing you of “criminal activity” or of “violence” either do not know you, or they are afraid of the beautiful man you are.
I still dream of a world where I can come back and visit Istanbul, a world in which Osman Kaval is free, where we can meet again and discuss how to make our world a better place.
Dear Osman, you are in prison, yet you are a free man. But without you the outside world is a much less a beautiful place to be.
Vicken Cheterian, Geneva
For so long I want to ask you “how are you?” but I am afraid to do so.
The world outside your prison is not the same place since we last saw each other. I still remember very vividly our last meeting. It was in September 2016, at the eight International Hrant Dink Award ceremony in Istanbul. I arrived there by chance, as I was shortly in Istanbul on my way to Antep. I was travelling to do research on the Syrian opposition groups and the difficult humanitarian situation in areas under their control. We met at the hall of the Hrant Dink ceremony, and you told me you wanted to talk to me.
We agreed to meet the next day, but that meeting did not happen. A Syrian opposition leader wanted to see me, and I called to apologise to you. We agreed to talk and meet soon. I promised you that I will soon come back to Istanbul to meet you. In those days I travelled to Istanbul often, and you were a free man.
Dear Osman, I do not know whether you still remember what you wanted to tell me. I do not know how important it was, or whether it is still relevant to our world of today. What I know is that I have a deep feeling of rendez-vous manqué inside my heart, a feeling of guilt each time I think of you.
Since September 2016 I did not return to Istanbul, me who got used to visit that city 2-3-4-5 times a year. I miss Istanbul – it is our Bolis, the capital of Western Armenian culture, The City, the lost paradise. I miss Bolis but do not dare to return. How can I come back and break my promise to you once again, and not be able to meet you, to discuss, to imagine how we can make our world a better place?
I am afraid to see ugliness where before I found beauty.
Dear Osman, many things have changed since the last time we met. I am sure you are following the news from your prison cell. Since they arrested you with unfair and unjust accusations, the world has turned upside down. Turkey became a harder place, and your efforts for mutual understanding and develop a culture of dialogue became more difficult to achieve. Instead of reaching peace with the Kurds, the war continues. Instead of recognizing the Armenian genocide and repair what still can be repaired, Turkey supported Azerbaijan to attack Armenia and ethnically cleansed the entire Armenian population from there. They, like us, are uprooted and thrown into the wind.
This is not all. Russia’s Vladimir Putin decided to “liberate” Ukraine and is now killing every Ukrainian and destroying every Ukrainian town on his way. In the Middle East, the situation is not better. Israel, that country that was formed by genocide survivors, is accused of committing genocide against another people, against the Palestinians. And the killing of innocent Palestinian civilians is continuing every day, to a degree where I cannot watch the news anymore. As if that is not enough, Israel is destroying Lebanon – the country where I was born and grew up - village after village, building after building. And our “Western democracies” are supporting war crimes rather than come to the aid of victims, supporting the aggressor with words, money and weapons. In our Western democracies, our governments are closing the mouth of people criticising the crimes committed in the Middle East, and their own policies.
Dear Osman, you are in prison for too long now, for seven long years. In those years so many things have changed. There are thousands of people who enjoy the beautiful trees of Gezi Park, yet they are not free. Outside prison there are millions of people who are enslaved to the powers to be. Those who are accusing you of “criminal activity” or of “violence” either do not know you, or they are afraid of the beautiful man you are.
I still dream of a world where I can come back and visit Istanbul, a world in which Osman Kaval is free, where we can meet again and discuss how to make our world a better place.
Dear Osman, you are in prison, yet you are a free man. But without you the outside world is a much less a beautiful place to be.
Vicken Cheterian, Geneva
