The Bitter Village

A monument of sorrow

“Few times in my life have I so physically felt the collective void of a people vanished, the expectant silence that hangs over the empty houses of a missing population. Once was while wandering through the empty barracks at the Dachau concentration camp in Germany, and the other, walking through the largest and best preserved ghost town in all of Asia Minor – Kayakoy, Turkey.” Trent Rockwood "Greek Ghosts of Turkey"

The Asia Minor Catastrophe resonates massacres, looting, fires like in Smyrna. But such violence did not reach the south coast of Asia Minor. In those parts the tragedy was silent. Numerous Christians in the region were coexisting peacefully with their fellow Muslims for centuries. Until one day, without violence, without blood, without warning, suddenly came the news: the Great Powers had decided a "population exchange". The Greek arrogant folly “let’s get to Ankara too” uprooted 2.3 million souls on both sides of the Aegean. It was 1923.

One of the Christian settlements on the coast of Lycia (north-east of Rhodes) was Levisi. Rather a town than a village with some 3,000 inhabitants, it was built amphitheatrically on mild slopes covered by pine trees, just 2 km from the sea, hidden from pirates.

After the compulsory exodus, Levisi was left deserted as it had few Muslim inhabitants. The Christians took their tears with a few portable possessions and became refugees in Greece, like many thousands of others. Together with those who left from neighbouring Makri (today Fethiye), they settled on the east coast of Attica. Their abandoned homes were left behind, to echo the weeping. Levisi was never to be inhabited again.

Today Levisi is called Kayaköy (Rock Village) and it remains as it was left then -or nearly so. I saw it last year and the year before. It reminded me Mikro Horio (another deserted village on the Greek island of Tilos), only Levisi is much larger -and with an invisible tragic veil. Some 400 houses (some say over 1000) still stand proudly, stretching along one kilometre on the hillside, with cobbled streets and steps between them. Besides the houses there are some churches too, with the old cathedral conspicuous at the top. Looting and time have put their marks. Almost everything from wood no longer exists. Roofs, lintels, doors, shutters have been recycled, made firewood or just rotted. But nearly all the well-built walls are still standing, silent witnesses of the sudden despair.

I knew nothing about Kayaköy until a friend took me there. Although I do not come from a family of 1923 refugees, I sensed a strange shiver when I saw the large array of houses radiating a sombre bitterness. I had a feeling that the weeping still echoes, that the walls vibrate a veiled moaning. To my mind came images of the giant heads on Easter Island, contemplating the sea as if waiting for those who built them and then vanished.

Later I searched about that strange tragic place. I learned that Levisi allegedly is the village where Louis de Bernières unfolds his 2004 novel “Birds Without Wings”, which describes the life of some locals in the troubled years of the eviction. The information I found on the web was rather scarce, touristic, and dubious, both about the past and the future. The most interesting was the multilingual source www.kayakoy.net, from which I quote:

"... By the provisions of the Exchange, Levisi was abandoned on June 30, 1923, leaving behind two churches, 14 chapels, two schools, two fountains, 1000 homes with cisterns and latrines, remnants of which we see today.

Levisi buildings were not built according to a specific plan, but the slope of the site ensured daylight and unobstructed views. The main feature was the view to the northern panorama rather than the bright light. The buildings are more harmonized with the surroundings and not so much with a particular building rule.

The main materials were local gravel, a kind of cement and the lime taken from the caves south of the Upper Church. The massive cornerstones with smooth surface that we see in some houses come from earlier buildings.

Most buildings in Levisi are houses with one or two storeys, depending on the location. Usually the ground floor is used as a stable and storage. Most homes have one or two rooms; a third room is found in few houses only. Next to the entrance are usually the living area and the cisterns. The top of the cistern is generally used as a useful space... "

I skip the rest of the detailed description, to get to the end of the text by Turkish archaeologist Hüseyin Köktürk:

"Until today much has been written and symposia, conferences, lectures and meetings have been held on Kayaköy-Levisi. With the best of intentions, Kayaköy has been proclaimed as “Village of Greek-Turkish Friendship”. In an effort to advance this friendship, it was decided to restore abandoned buildings in order to preserve and protect them from damage."

This point is interesting because it refers to the future of the rare village. The word “restoration” is often linked to the word “development”, which nowadays implies “exploitation” aiming most commonly at profit. Plans for the rescue / recovery of the desolate village are varied and misty. The surrounding area is the tourist goldmine of Turkey, and obviously there are many suitors for Kayaköy. Moreover, the local government claims its share, and that makes decision taking even harder.

The various proposals include the creation of an "international youth centre to promote friendship and cooperation between peoples." Another idea, more to the spirit of our times, is the creation of an upmarket tourist village. All proposals stumble on the sensitive historic importance of Levisi and its large size -hence on the high construction and operating cost of the project. So it is suggested to “develop” only a section of the settlement and to convert the rest into a unique museum.

Today there is already a small museum at the edge of the village. An old two-story building houses numerous old furniture pieces, lighting fixtures, appliances, and many small items that survived looting and time, allowing the visitor to imagine how the inhabitants of the ghost village were living before they disappeared to the west.

The fate awaiting Kayaköy should not be decided by Turkey only. The tourist guides call it "the Greek Village" despite the Turkish flags on its top. Its conversion into a lavish tourist complex could perhaps save the standing corpses of the past and satisfy the money-seeking entrepreneurs of the present. But will it also appease the painful remembrances on the west coast of the Aegean?

Thanos N. Stasinopoulos

8.10.2009

See many great photos in skyscrapercity.com.

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PS.
This article was written in Greek for the online magazine greekarchitect.gr in 2009.
During its translation in English I discovered that the web site www.kayakoy.net no longer exists.
Searching (in vain) for the original text of Hüseyin Köktürk, I encountered the splendid article “’Ghost Village’ in Turkey a Symbol of Peace and Friendship” written by Elizabeth Warkentin in 2013.
I also found the 2010 Hürriyet article “Abandoned Kayaköy a symbol of war's painful consequences” with witness accounts of the 1923 tragedy, from which I cannot help but copy this powerful passage:

“The time had come for the villagers of Levissi to migrate. First they cleaned up their houses with great care. They took along as much of their private belongings as they could carry and started walking toward the Harbor of Makri.

They stopped on top of the hill on the road from Levissi to Makri and started waiting for the decision of the Ankara Government. After a long wait, news was received which dashed all their hopes: The Ankara Government had turned down their request.

The Commander of the Gendarmerie announced Ankara’s decision to the crowd. When he finished talking, an old woman rose to her feet slowly. She took a deep breath, looked at the blue waters of the gulf with great sorrow and called out to those behind her with a typical Anatolian style of speech, ‘Geçti Bor’un pazarı, sür eşeğini Niğde’ye’ (‘The market of Bor is finished; drive your donkey to Niğde,’ meaning whatever was done has been done, it is time to move on to the next stage).

Everyone rose and followed the old woman toward the harbor without a sound. At Makri Harbor authorities helped them get on the boats moored at the jetty. The boats were packed with people. When the last passenger was on board, the boats departed.”

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