A thick layer of smog envelops Urfa; much of it the result of burning coal, wood, trash, etc. combined with the countless exhaust pipes of heavy-polluting vehicles. The air so thick that one can see and taste it. Every breath is labored with a tingling and itching sensation within the lungs. And yet, the countless thousands who live here seem to pass the day without reckoning the hazard they face. Life simply goes on as it has for thousands of years.
The storied legends of this place traces back beyond the dawn of history. Urfa is the purported birth place of Abraham, patriarch of all Abrahamic religions. Legend tells of a cave where he was born and nursed, hidden from King Nimrod. To this day, the cave is revered by hundreds of thousands of devout Muslims come to pray at this holy site. From within, one can watch the men (and women on the other half of the partitioned cave) come and prostrate in silent prayer. The near by Fish Lake is no less storied; with legends telling how Abraham survived the wrath of Nimrod by Allah’s intervention.
Today, the region is ever rich with history. Turks, Kurds, Syrians, perhaps some Persians and Yezidis among others still make this region their home. As can be attested by the various attire and languages spoken in the bazaars. Particularly, the recent heavy influx of Syrian refugees fleeing the on-going conflict across the borders has imbued the city with some uncertainties in these dynamic times. Life continues, and this city will endure as it always had with welcoming arms to strangers.
The daily life is quite a spectacle — particularly when viewed through the lens of a foreigner visiting. The minarets still solemnly call the devout to prayer. Countless men sit in idle chatter along the streets sipping cups of tea incessantly. The cries of vendors echo through the cramped corridors of the bazaar. Smiling young boys pass with trays of bread on their heads, trying to sell any passing stranger for one Lira. The tea/spice vendors, tobacco vendors, kebab houses, textile shops, and random chatter of street life all vie for one’s attention. Innumerable colors and traditional attire from regions I do not recognize float before the eyes.
