Original subtitles

"If one day the war ends, then we'll have to ask ourselves

what will we do with the dead, what did they die for?" Cesare Pavese

FUTURE LASTS FOREVER

Looks good on you.

It's your mother's handiwork, of course it looks good.

You're sure you didn't steal it from your mother's chest?

This is for you.

What's this?

Why are you giving this to me?

I don't know, just felt like it.

Don't open it now.

Read it later.

Dear Sumru...

I hope you'll understand me...

and won't be mad at me for leaving like this.

However, I had no other choice.

This was the best thing to do.

If I had told you...

it would have been so hard for me.

I guess, we won't see each other again...

but one never loses hope.

After all, isn't it too hard to live without hope?

How I wish to just appear...

out of nowhere some day...

when you least expect to see me.

Let us now make a promise and have faith to see sunny and beautiful days.

When that day arrives, we'll walk towards the future...

on the shores of Siyasümbül Lake, the playground of my childhood...

the place we always wanted to see together.

We will walk, not in a future we don't know much about...

but in a future that started long ago...

a future that bears our names.

With all my heart... Your lover from the mountain.

PS...

I made two copies of this only photo in which we are to gather.

I am taking one with me, and I leave the other one for you...

along with one of my favourite poems, Voznesensky's "Oza."

Attention passengers, the Southeast Express coming to Diyarbakır...

from Istanbul, Ankara, and Malatya has arrived in Platform 1.

Attention passengers, the commuter train from Diyarbakır...

to Batman departs from Platform 3 at 11:15.

What's that mom...

Mom

there's no need to be concerned.

Don't worry! Istanbul is no safer than here...

if not more dangerous.

Forget about what you hear on TV.

Bombs aren't exploding everywhere!

Alright, mom, I have to go now.

Frankly, Sumru, I've never heard anyone doing what you do.

So, you go to different regions and collect elegies.

Well, we've got plenty of those here...

You sure came to the right place Sumru.

Ask any soul, and you'll hear a thousand elegies.

So in a way, you are kind of dealing with people who have troubles, right?

Kind of, yeah.

Won't you stay with us Sumru? We have plenty of room.

Thanks, Leyla, but I do some work at night...

Don't worry, it's better this way.

When Kemal said you were going to rent a place in that neighborhood...

Well, I was really surprised.

We keep away from all that looks old and poor.

But I guess that's exactly what draws you. Oh, well.

Ah, look who came.

Mom read me the Şenge-Benge story.

Of course, my dear, my little angel.

- What's she saying? - She wants me to read a story.

Cute little thing.

I'll put her to sleep.

- All right. - Okay.

Come on. Good night.

Nighty-night

The survey we conducted in April...

was carried out in nearly 4500 residences.

The research was mainly interested in questioning...

and underlying poverty and migration.

And by that, we mean migration to this city...

in the last three decades.

After migrating to the city...

All right ladies, I'll be back in a second. Okay.

- Hi, may I help you? - Hello.

I wanted to ask something.

I'm doing a research, and I was wondering...

if I could talk with the women who come here.

You must be the girl who came with Leyla.

Yes, yes, I am.

Welcome, let's move into the room. We can talk there.

July 25, 2008.

Field interviews with Laz women in Topluca...

Masalavat Village of Çamlıhemşin County, Rize Province.

Note...

It's foggy and rainy as always.

In other words, as the locals say, this is the month of rotting.

I don't know why, but I've been restless for a while.

Harun's been gone for 7 months.

I haven't heard from him at all.

I'm sorry, but I don't understand.

Well, neither do I.

- So, what are you doing? - I'm recording.

- Okay, good luck with that. - Thanks, good luck to you.

I can't see.

I cried so much that my eyes got cloudy.

The dawn was breaking. It was around 8:00 am.

Soldiers surrounded us.

It was snowing heavily.

They said we had an hour.

To clear the houses.

They said that after one hour...

they'd start burning the houses down.

We were shocked...

what can we take out in one hour?

We took out supplies and...

put them under the almond tree.

They got wet, too.

We just wanted to save our lives.

Our belongings, our cattle and sheep...

were all left inside.

My daughter-in-law...

had a three-day old baby.

We said, let's get the baby and others out.

- First, they set the house on fire from the inside. - What is she saying?

Our beds, all our belongings burned.

The barn was right next to the house.

We couldn't save the animals.

The soldiers didn't let us move a muscle.

They were right in front of us...

they all burned.

The animals shrieked in terror.

They took my husband, Mustafa, and five other young men.

And four old men.

They took them to the village of Sise...

...where that gun battle was taking place.

They left the old men there...

and took the boys to Lice.

They were taken to the boarding school.

They held them there for three days.

Then, they let them go, and asked if anyone...

anyone from their group was missing. One of them was missing.

They asked who. It was Mustafa Bulut.

Can these incidents ever be forgotten? No, never.

Fahri is not the only one.

None of these can be forgotten. Look at him...

he was no more than 25 years old. He was my friend.

How could they take these boys?

Fahri, my husband. He was 7 years older than me.

He was 31.

They were blindfolded and dragged behind the armored...

personnel carrier from village to village.

They were later taken to Lice.

Someone saw that they were dressed in military uniforms...

and taken on board a helicopter.

Taken to Kulp.

We looked for them a very long time...

they weren't to be found.

We went to the district attorney, they didn't even let us see him.

They kicked us out. They didn't let us have the bodies.

No matter how much we petitioned...

...the DA of Lice did not accept our pleas.

We had learned that they were held alive in Lice for seven days.

Some said they were taken here. Others said they were taken elsewhere.

Finally, the three bodies turned up in Kulp. Ekrem, Ramazan, Ali.

Ekrem and Ramazan were Fahri's brothers. They were my in-laws.

This is not something that can be forgotten.

If they don't answer us today...

they will answer to our children, or to our grandchildren.

But we will never forget it.

I walk around in the house, with their pictures on the wall.

I still think there are five men in the house.

I come and go. I try to ease my pain with a piece of paper.

If this is 'Justice', we won't accept it.

Turkey has a minister of justice. There are laws.

If there are laws...

we want the bones that belong to us.

They have to tell us where Fahri and Mustafa were killed.

We want their remains.

What are you doing up on the roof in the morning like a cat?

Hey!

September 23, 2010, Diyarbakır.

Sounds of the city from Amed Square.

Could you lower the volume please?

Hello, is this Ahmet?

Hi, my name is Sumru.

I took your number from Helin who works at the...

Mesopotamia Center for People Who Lost Their Relatives.

I wish to talk about your video recordings.

- Yes, ma'am? - I was looking for Ahmet.

Ahmet will be back in a couple of minutes.

Okay, thank you.

CINAMED, Ahmet Doğan, A Representative of the Cinematheque in Diyarbakır

- Hi. - Hi.

- I'm Ahmet. - Sumru.

Are you looking for anything special?

- 'They Shoot Horses, Don't They?' Do you have it? - Nope, I'm fresh out.

OK. Thanks.

- Let's have some tea. - Alright.

No, thanks.

I'm sorry, but I couldn't quite understand...

on the phone yesterday. What is it you do again?

I'm doing research in music.

So, you're an ethnomusicologist.

That's right.

What do you play?

I don't play an instrument. I collect elegies.

And that's why I need your help actually.

I understand that you did some amateur recordings in the past.

With relatives of people murdered by unknown assailants.

How did you come up with this idea to collect elegies?

It's for my thesis.

Kurds are now a sociological topic of interest, eh? Well, I'll be damned!

- Excuse me? - Don't mind me, I'm just blabbering.

Actually, I gave those videos away. Let me ask my friends about them.

If I can find the videos I'll let you know.

Alright, thanks.

Off I go. You're a guest

Call me if you need anything.

Ahmet, enough already. You're killing me here.

If you want me gone, just say so.

I mean, this is torture.

Ahmet, who was that?

Didn't you recognize him, Kuto?

Okay, now I recognize him. He was that great socialist.

- Hi! - Hello.

- Is upstairs open? - It's open.

- You may go - Okay.

As you can see, the memory center...

has a name, but that's all it has.

It's more like a cassette storage center.

Yeah, this will be a lot of work.

Well, you are in for it, that's for sure.

Don't you mean, 'we' are in for it.

By 1992...

they devised a particular way of killing Kurds...

called 'murder by unknown assailants.'

Hundreds of Kurds were killed, and the murderers were never found.

This is massacre.

What will be presented in the future to the...

...commission assigned to investigate the truth?

- As a matter of fact, these recordings are very important! -Yes, you're right.

And these are the recordings we made.

I heard you are headed to Hakkari after Ankara.

What if you are taken into custody again?

- Surp Gıragos Armenian Church - Diyarbakır

What do you want kids, eh?

Didn't I tell you not to come before 11:00 a.m. on Sunday mornings?

- Good morning. - I thought it was the kids.

- I just wanted to see the place. - Come on, come inside, yes.

You look a little like our girls.

I don't know, do I?

- Do you speak Armenian? - A little.

I can speak Homshetsi.

Where do your parents live?

In Istanbul or in Artvin?

My mom lives in Hopa.

My dad passed away ten years ago.

Any brothers or sisters?

I have a sister.

Did you come here by yourself?

I came by myself.

Oh, this wicked world...

I'm here all by myself now.

Just like you, all alone.

Hi.

You seem to have discovered this place quite quickly.

In fact, you can't tell

it's a place like this from the outside.

Better that way.

What were you going to do?

Came here to read.

Baran, bring me a tea, will you.

- That's a beautiful name. - What, Baran?

Sometimes we do screenings at the weekend here.

- We have a good time. - How nice.

Do you think you can use these recordings in movies?

I'm not sure, but I guess you could.

- May I take a look? - Sure.

- Would you like to listen? - Yes, I would.

- What does it use to store data? - An MD.

What's on it now?

Atmospheric sounds, noises made by the blacksmiths...

In that case, I'll pass.

I wake up to that every morning.

- Alright then, here's something else. - Okay.

Oh, Ahmet, check out the babe!

What's she got in her hand?

It's a sound recorder.

My, my, she looks just like those

...characters from the movies you watch!

- You're definitely right about that Kuto! - What if she's JITEM, covert ops?

You know, like in Lisbon Story!

A little Mastroianni, Belmondo or even better, De Niro?

Look at that mug!

You see a girl from Istanbul, and suddenly, you think you're hot shit!

But you ain't shit, my friend.

- Listen to this. - Alright.

- Who is this? - Forugh Farrokhzad.

Really?

- Where did you find this? - Let's just say I'm resourceful.

'Maybe life is the street a woman...

...walks down with a basket in her hand...

maybe life is the rope a man hangs himself with on a branch...

maybe life is the child returning home from school.'

Sumru...

tell me please, how did you end up collecting elegies?

All my life...

I had a curious relationship with sound.

I can easily say that encounters with sounds have pretty much shaped my life.

It all started when, at the age of five,

I accidentally erased my grandma's voice.

She didn't even have a single picture, you know...

When I was in junior high

I started getting interested in sound systems and recording equipment...

How childish of me...

Later...

Later, in high school, just as I was going through...

that period of not having a clue about life.

I kept bumping into...

"Elegies" by Yaşar Kemal in the library.

The line...

'I wish, all the folk elegies in all the tongues

of Anatolia were recorded in their own voices.'

pretty much became my motto in life.

Well, at least for the last 3 years of my life.

Then...

one day, I was late to class on campus.

I was running like crazy not to miss it.

I heard a voice.

I was really curious about the owner of the voice.

A trembling voice was reading a statement.

I couldn't take another step...

Take up arms, or clear out the village.

After the villagers were pressured like this two or three times...

and if they still resisted taking up arms...

they were forced to leave the village.

Nobody wanted to become village guards.

In the fifth month 1994...

on the morning of 27th, soldiers came.

Approximately 1000 or 1500 soldiers surrounded the village.

The soldiers started raiding the houses.

They took my father and uncle along with six other villagers.

There's a Boarding Regional Command in Lice...

...which is actually a boarding school.

A school that co-exists with military presence.

That's where they were taken.

When we went there, we were told that they were released.

We asked the students around the school.

They said they were flown away in a helicopter.

They were taken aboard blindfolded.

I believe it was after three or four days that we received news.

Two men had been thrown out the helicopter on Bingol Mountain.

Everyone thought it was my father and uncle.

So, naturally, we went there with the villagers, but it wasn't them.

A week later...

- What did you see there? - We saw two bodies.

Their hands were tied, and they were blindfolded.

They were shot in the head with one bullet.

That's what we saw.

After a week...

We were told that two bodies were found

in the pit that's just outside our village.

So, we went there, too.

We saw again that the bodies were tied and blindfolded.

They weren't my father and uncle.

Their father was taken on April 27th...

and my son on May 27th.

He was taken on Thursday, and my son on Friday.

My son was taken twenty-seven days after his father was taken.

My son was in the melon field. He was watering the field.

He had one shoe on his feet when they took him.

Soldiers surrounded him...

and wrapped the keffiyeh around his head.

He had a visual impairment.

He was handicapped.

He couldn't see the soldiers shouting at him very well.

They wrapped the keffiyeh around his head and made him walk around.

Later, we found his other shoe in the mountain.

They were dragging him. He tried holding onto the ground and his hands bled.

We cannot get rid of this pain inside.

They took three people alive from the house.

I wonder what they did.

The father...

my son and my in-law.

This here is my older brother, Çayan Çiçek.

This is my father, Tahsin Çiçek.

And this is my uncle, Ali İhsan Çiçek.

I am a Turk...

honest

and hardworking.

I bestow...

my existence...

to the Turkish existence.

How happy is the one...

who says, "I am a Turk."

- Your coffee is getting cold. - Okay, thanks.

How did you get so involved in movies?

One day, on the campus...

my friend said...

they were starting a movie club, but they were short one guy.

- Next thing I know, I was in love with movies. - What were you studying?

Philosophy, in Dicle University.

You know how it was in the mid 90s.

Fast times.

No one attended class.

No one cared about school then.

It was as if everyone was waiting for...

...their turn to join the guerillas in the mountains.

I felt stuck in between the same choices...

so I chose Istanbul instead.

I worked on construction sites, painted walls, worked at bookstores.

It was going nowhere.

So, I went to Silvan to live with my mother.

But that didn't last long either.

And, here I am.

Can't even make a short film out of this story, can you?

Do you like this poet?

Andrei Voznesensky. Very much so.

"How terrible it is to think of you alone, by myself...

it's even worse if you're not alone, by yourself."

1995...

villages burned in Hakkari.

B-1992.

Soldiers got into a skirmish with the guerillas.

Seven guerillas died in the armed clashes.

They were all dragged behind the armored carrier and brought into the village.

Villagers were asked to identify...

...their children or relatives amongst them.

Maybe they knew some of them, but no one claimed the bodies.

They ran the armored vehicle over the corpses.

They took away the bodies with an excavator...

and threw them all down into a pit.

We collected the bodies of two young men from our neighbor village.

The college student from the neighboring village had a picture in his pocket.

- Which village are you from? - Siyasümbül Village.

"Another civilian killed in Silvan."

We were recruited into JITEM as civil servants.

As time passed, we realized that they were making us do their dirty work.

They said we took them there,

to a village, and executed them there.

We went there, we opened up the grave and saw four bodies in it.

Our battalion commander said that...

no one claimed these bodies.

How were we suppose to deal with them?

They made us burn the terrorists with gas.

We burned and threw them into the trash.

Dogs came, dug up the soil...

and started eating from the corpses.

Abdülkerim Kırca, he did this right in front of us...

somewhere between Silvan and Diyarbakır...

he shot Vedat Aydın's relative Necati Aydın...

in the back of his head...

execution style.

The child, as a child...

swung his arms as he walked.

He wanted the brook to turn into a river...

and the river into a flood.

And he wanted this pool to be the sea.

The child, as a child...

didn't know...

he was a child.

All was full of life.

And all life was one.

The child, as a child...

I want to ask you something.

That revolutionist young man whose...

...voice once stopped you in your tracks...

What's he doing now?

What was his name?

Harun.

Or is he the real reason behind this journey?

Where was he from?

Hakkari.

Where is he now?

How long has it been since he left?

Three years.

Old Ante's got a letter.

He was sleeping, so I didn't want to wake him up.

Uncle Antranik...

why didn't you go to Switzerland to live with your daughters?

I can't leave.

If I go, these places will become desolate.

Their bones are lying under this ground.

How can I leave?

Have you ever heard...

recorded an elegy your mother, or your wife Surpuhi, sang?

An elegy...

The year Zovinar got married...

she sang an elegy in the church courtyard.

They recorded it, but I don't have it.

No, they must have taken it with them.

No, it's not here.

Ahmet, don't you have something I can watch?

Kuto, don't you have things to do? Why don't you go home?

Well, I'm kind of like you. I can't sleep at night.

I lie down with eyes wide open.

So, what's the story between you and that girl?

Did you split up or are you together?

I'm about to smash this glass right on your forehead!

I'd see someone coming down the street...

or hear a voice, and I'd run to the window...

thinking that someone got some sort of news for me.

That dream kept me alive. That dream made life bearable.

But it never happened.

I want him to have a grave.

I already know they killed him...

burned him, threw him away...

but I still want his bones.

I want to be able to tell my daughter where her father lies.

Holidays come and go.

Everyone visits the cemetery.

This is a human being, a missing person.

You look at those pictures every day.

And who are you looking for?

Ahmet, can I ask you something?

Can you come with me to Hakkari for a couple of days?

Hakkari?

I don't know. That region is a bit chaotic these days, you know...

Never mind. I can manage.

Sumru, don't take me wrong, it's not that I think about myself or anything.

Really, it's okay.

- Off I go. - Alright.

- See you later. - See you.

The autumn is gone...

and now the winter is here, my girl.

How are you Uncle Anto?

I'm doing okay...

I guess.

Actually, I found something.

And I was looking forward to your arrival.

This is my mother's voice.

The year is 1915, the time of the genocide.

Before I was born.

She is lamenting for my brother Hampo...

who died during displacement.

She sang this elegy more and more...

as the years passed.

Hi, Ahmet.

Hi.

I wanted to call before I leave.

I'm leaving tomorrow.

- You're really determined, ha? - Yes.

Thanks for everything Ahmet.

In case we don't see each other again, take care.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

The tension that began in the past summer months...

when a road mine detonated as a village minibus headed to Geçitli Village of Hakkari

passed near a mine, escalated when a military operation carried out

in the Hakkari region in the last few days ended with the death of five PKK guerrillas.

Tens of thousands of people, who took the bodies of the five PKK guerrillas

from the morgue of Hakkari State Hospital, marched to the county cemetery.

After the PKK guerrilas were buried

shop owners in the county closed up for the day.

I don't want the road to ever end.

I wish we could be on the road forever.

I feel worn out.

When I was a kid, I always wanted to go on a journey like this with my dad.

Why didn't you? Never had the chance?

He was killed.

I didn't know.

What did your father used to do?

He was a truck driver.

When I grew up, I was going to take the wheel.

He was going to sit next to me and tell me of the places he saw with his truck.

Where did he go mostly?

To Iran, Tehran, Tabriz.

Sometimes, in winter, he wouldn't return for 15 days.

I'd be happy to get the opportunity to do as I please.

Silly me...

How did it happen?

I was 14, a ninth grader.

One day, we left school with my friends.

Just as we were trying to decide between playing billiards or going by the river...

a friend of ours yelled across the street...

that someone had been shot in the neighborhood.

Back then, everything was an adventure for us.

We all started running.

Then, we came to a backstreet.

When I saw my mother and sister among the crowd

I started running faster.

I swear it was the longest run of my life.

Suddenly, I saw a man...

lying in blood on the ground. He was shot in the back.

Once, they threw a young kid, while he was alive, into a hay conditioner.

Scumbags.

Hello, IDs.

- Hello. - Hello.

- How are you? Good? - Thank you, thanks for asking.

Welcome.

Please, sit. Where are you coming from?

- From Diyarbakır. - Welcome.

Where is the reeve?

He went out to the reed bed. He is reaping.

Soldiers got into a skirmish with the guerrillas.

The bodies of guerrillas were brought into the village

The officer told us to gather all the horses and rideable animals.

Yes, I know the voice. That's our Musa alright.

The commander told us to bring all the horses into the courtyard.

I couldn't fathom what he wanted to do.

This was something even the devil couldn't think of.

He closed the gate.

The animals looked as if they had sensed their fate.

The sounds of gunshots and their neighing filled the air.

I collapsed by the wall.

At one point, I had to look away.

By the time I turned my face again to see what was happening...

the horses seemed to have gone mad.

One of the horses jumped over the wall and escaped.

In the midst of all the gunshots and confusion...

he ran out of the village to freedom.

When that horse got free...

we felt as if we were freed with him.

Sumru.

Would you mind if I opened the window for a smoke?

Will you light me one, too?

What are you thinking?

I was just thinking who "The Wretched of the Earth" really is.

What about you?

I'm wondering what will happen in this country in the next 25 years.

I can tell you.

What will happen or what I'd want to happen?

Which movie is that line from?

This movie hasn't been made yet.

25 years later maybe we'll...

climb on the city walls in Benusen.

But we'll be a little older.

You and I can ride our bicycles all along the Black Sea coast in full circle.

We'll drink chacha in Batumi and listen to sad Georgian songs.

I'll take you to Mayakovsky's house in Soyim.

We'll read stories from doctor Chekov in Yalta.

"Lets drink and address each other informally."

We'll drink vodka on the Moscow-Petruşki train.

In Varna, we'll say, 'I'm shouting from the opposite shore...

Can you hear me Mehmet, Mehmet?' and think of Nazım.

Then, we'll spread the world map out, close our eyes...

and we'll randomly place a finger on the map.

And we'll go there.

Then, maybe I'll go into politics.

But all I'll ever let myself be is the minister of transportation.

I'll weave the whole nation with railroads.

And not just from west to east. But from east to the Black Sea...

and from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean, long railroads.

Then, we'll found institutes...

in every region about the tongues and...

cultures that faced extinction.

Then, then...

maybe everything will be different.

Then, working hours will be reduced to 5 hours a day.

Then, they will set up research committees to investigate the truth...

about this state of conflict we have been living in for the past three decades.

Then...

There are so many 'thens', aren't there?