A Refugee Camp for Christians

What are they doing?

To check out the reports, he began calling clergy and others in Midyat. Kino is an award-winning TV/radio journalist of Syriac Orthodox heritage. Recently, he conducted more than 100 interviews with Syria’s minority Christian community. “They can’t agree about the number of refugees it is supposed to shelter. One is saying 10,000 Christians, another 1,000. Reuters says 2,500. Nowhere in the Islamic world has a refugee camp for the Christians of one country been built across the border in a neighboring country. Now Turkey is building a camp that will hold between 3 and 30 times the number of Syrian Christians currently taking refuge in the country. Why? Why is Turkey creating a small city to handle a flood of Syrian Christians?”

What are they doing?

Jamil Diarbakerli, a local representative of the Assyrian Democratic Organization, tells Kino that the persecution of Christians in Syria is exaggerated. “They are just looking for an excuse to leave Syria and escape to Europe,” he says. “As soon as there is a bit of a stir in the Arab world, the Christians seize the opportunity to leave their native countries.” This is upsetting to Sargon, a Christian from the Syrian town of Qamishly, a town about 50 kilometers to the south, just across the Turkey border. “What are you talking about? The body of my cousin Alexi Skandar has been lying on a street in Aleppo for more than two weeks. His lacerated corpse has rotted. No one dares to go and get him; if you do you’ll be killed. And he is not alone; many other bodies of Christians are rotting on the streets because Islamists threaten to kill people who want to bury them.”

^{Photo by}^{Saima Altunkaya, courtesy World Watch Monitor}

What are they doing?

But Sargon is more concerned with what’s actually happening in Syria than what might happen in Turkey. “It’s not the henchmen of the regime who persecute us; it’s the Free Syrian Army and their Islamist supporters who want to purge Syria of Christians. There’s no way you can say different.” Diarbakerli meets Sargon halfway. “Of course there are fundamentalists in Syria; they are everywhere. What we are hoping and working for is that Syria won’t be heading for the same fate as Iraq where over half of the Christians fled. We will, of course, provide shelter to Assyrians and other Christians — not in a Turkish camp, however, but in a humanitarian zone within Syria. Christians have armed and organized themselves in small groupings keeping watch, and to be able to defend themselves if needed. But it is far from sufficient; many more armed men would be needed.”

What are they doing?

I meet a Turkish journalist, who asks to be anonymous. She and her husband are well-known human-rights activists. They have just returned from Syria where they have investigated the situation for Christians. She isn’t as pleased as the church leaders about the camp. “They are going to build not one but two camps, one for 6,000 Muslims and one for 4,000 Christians,” she says. “What will happen if Christians can’t flee from Syria, if they don’t need to flee from Syria? Then both camps will be used for Muslims. Then 10,000 Syrian Muslims will be located in close vicinity to one of the world’s oldest monasteries.”

^{Photo by}^{Saima Altunkaya, courtesy World Watch Monitor}

What are they doing?

At a restaurant we are informed that one of the dishwashers is a Christian refugee from Syria. His father was killed by Islamists. We ask to see him. His name is Gabriel Staifo Malke, 18 years old and originally from Hassake, in northern Syria. He is handsome and proud. Yet for the next several minutes he speaks like a robot, his eyes holding back tears. “My father was found shot, killed in his car,” the young man says. “The only reason for his killing was that he had a crucifix hanging from his rear mirror. It was on 17 July, 2012, a day I will never forget. My two brothers and I were sleeping. Dad and our uncle were going to Qamishly; it was about nine o’clock in the morning, I believe. My eldest brother’s cell phone woke us up. I heard him confirm that it was him speaking.

^{Photo by}^{Saima Altunkaya, courtesy World Watch Monitor}

What are they doing?

He, my other brother and my mother went to the hospital, because Dad had had an accident. I went to my uncle’s house close by. There were many adults, my relatives, there. They were all crying and screaming. Suddenly I was in a car. We went to the state hospital. The cell phone of one my aunts rang, the other aunt wanted to know what it was about. Everyone was crying out their anger, fear and sorrow. My dad wasn’t hurt any more, he was dead. My mind went completely blank. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t take it in. When we got to the hospital I wasn’t allowed to see Dad; only my mother and one of my older brothers were allowed in. All other members of the family stood outside beating their chests and crying. I was still numb. Like paralyzed. Dad was loved by all; he was a popular veterinary. No one would want to kill him. “

^{Photo by}^{Saima Altunkaya, courtesy World Watch Monitor}

What are they doing?

“Three hours later he was brought home. They carried him in on a gurney; there was blood everywhere. He was still bleeding. With him came a bag with his belongings; what he had in the car and his pockets. All the money was there; but covered with blood. It hadn’t been thieves, common criminals that had killed him. My mother sat on the stairs, she refused to come in, her brother and sisters practically had to drag her into the house. There were three visible bullet holes, one in his neck, one in his right side and one in his shoulder. Mum cried and cried. She kept repeating that she had asked him to remove the cross, but he had refused. He had replied in a proud voice that he, as a Christian, had as much right to Syria as anyone else. Besides, the country is named after us Assyrians/Syriacs. Syria is our country, too.

What are they doing?

“In Hassake, terrorists had warned Christians that they would be killed if they didn’t leave town; there was no room left for us. Most of the others hid their religion, didn’t show openly that they were non-Muslims. But not Dad. After the funeral the threats against our family and other Christians increased. The terrorists called us and said that it was time to disappear; we had that choice, or we would be killed. My brothers fled with the help of smugglers. Their destination was Germany, but on the Bulgarian border they were apprehended by Turkish border police. For five days we heard nothing from them; we had no idea what had happened to them. It wasn’t possible to speak with Mum; she thought they were gone, too. Something awful must have happened to them. When my eldest brother finally called and said that they were okay, they were in prison but were going to be released soon, Mum lost it altogether and fell down. A few days later it was our turn, Mum’s and mine. The smuggler brought us into Turkey by way of an opening cut in the barbed wire. The Free Syrian Army guided us out, as if they wanted us to leave the country.”

What are they doing?

Two other Syrian refugees have heard that we are interested in their stories and have come to find us. “It’s important that you tell the truth, that you get the whole picture,” the first one says. “If you’re interested in covering the camp, we want you to know that none of us will be staying in the camp. They didn’t even ask us before they started building. Personally, I think that women and children should be brought out from Syria, to the camp, and that the men should be given heavier weapons so that they can defend their areas from al-Qaeda and Salafists.” The other one follows up: “We don’t want food; we don’t want to hide in refugee camps in Turkey! We want shelter for our families and weapons for ourselves. Syria must not be purged of non-Muslims. We want to fight for the future of the Christians in Syria.”