Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
On Oct.4, a 19-year-old man, Semih Çelik, carried out a horrifying double murder in Istanbul, brutally killing two young women within half an hour before ending his own life. Çelik’s body plummeted from the city’s historic ramparts shortly after the severed head of his second victim, İkbal Uzuner—a former classmate he had been obsessed with—hit the pavement below.
“We certainly have a problem and it is clear we need to be in dialogue with Turkey to solve it,” a high-level German official told me when asked about news stories that Ankara and Berlin reached an understanding to send Turkish illegal migrants back to Turkey. “We told the Germans we are ready to work with them but we have not reached an agreement,” told me a Turkish official.
Lokma (noun): Literally translated as “morsel,” lokma is a fried sweet dough covered in syrup. Part of Turkey’s colossal street food culture, its shape, size, and sweetness change according to the region. Izmirians maintain that it has to have a hole in the middle, whereas Istanbuliots say it should be in the shape and size of a dove’s egg. People of Gaziantep, whose Unesco-registered cuisine is on festival mode until Sept. 22, call it pisik daşşaa (“cat’s balls” in the local accent) and sprinkle it with crushed pistachios. Greeks have loukoumades, which they serve with honey and heated arguments on its Greek origins. In Turkey, when a loved one dies, people distribute lokma in their sweet memory, when a small lokma-van pulls on the street in front of the family home and distributes little cartoon cups of half a dozen lokmas to neighbors and passers-by.
For the past week, many Turks have been uneasily following the unfolding of the murder of an eight-year-old girl at a southeastern village and its tangle of feudal ties, political influence and an unholy conspiracy of silence that may well belong to an Almodovar film.