Eylem NAZLIER
İstanbul
As the economic crisis precipitated by the pandemic has grown more severe, living conditions have deteriorated, and the impoverished are paying the heaviest cost. On one side, there are those who live in luxury apartments, and one the other, those who are struggling to make ends meet on minimum wage. We spoke with a family in Istanbul’s Esenyurt district. Surrounded by luxury apartments, they live on the second floor of a four story building. They pay 700 liras in rent each month. Five persons live together and only one of them works, and a minimum wage job at that. Gülsün and Sinan Dag, a married couple, have been unable to pay their rent for two months, despite having sold all their valuables. The entire livelihood of the home rests on their 22 year old son.
Gülsün Dag, age 47, after recalling how both her sons and spouse were employed before the pandemic, said, “One of my sons was placed on unpaid leave. My spouse is unemployed, he used to work in the construction sector. We rely entirely on my son’s income. And that’s minimum wage.”
Gülsün said, “I sold my wedding ring, my earrings, my bracelet. At the least, it supplemented my children’s wages for three to four months. It’s better than going hungry. It’s better than asking for charity. At the very least, ‘Let us not be miserable, let us not rely on anyone,’ I said. Soon after, there was nothing left to sell. The only thing left is my necklace, and I’ve reserved that for difficult times.”
Gülsün, who listed their gas bill at 270 liras, their water bill at 50 liras, and their electricity bill at 130 liras, said, “Our son took out a loan of 5,000 liras. With that loan, we’ve reduced our debts by a bit. It sustained us for one month. Now we pay 400 liras each month on the loan. After we pay our bills and the loan repayments, there is nothing left over for us. Debt is keeping us on our feet.”
Gülsün said, “You buy whatever is cheap when you go to the market,” continuing, “We can’t go shopping. We buy limited amounts of fruit. We prepared some preserve this summer. We’re getting by with that at the moment. My parents had sent us some provisions from the countryside. You don’t know what you’ll put on the stove at night. You become uneasy. We’re a family of five, those children need to eat well. But our consumption of bread and pasta has been increasing.”
Gülsün said, “I’ve been meaning to buy a coat for two years. I’ll buy one this year, I said, but it didn’t happen, I couldn’t. I’ve been passing the winters with a cardigan. When it becomes too cold, I can’t even go outside. I’ve decided to endure this winter as well, until the summer.”
Sinan Dag, age 57, worked at a company before the pandemic. When the company went bankrupt, he became unemployed. Sinan said, “When I applied for unemployment wages, I learned that I didn’t qualify because my term of employment was inadequate. I’ve applied everywhere for a job.”
Sinan, after explaining how they sold all their valuables, went on to describe the poverty that people were experiencing: “We arrange our budget so that we can get through the week without going hungry the following. Last month, I had to ask a friend to pay our bills. Despite using our stove on the lowest setting, our gas bill was very high. We’re not the only ones dealing with these difficulties. I recently went to the neighborhood market. Old women in their 70s or 80s were gathering rotten fruits and vegetables from under the stalls and placing them in their shopping bags.”
Sinan, who said, “I’m experiencing the sadness of being unable to help my children,” his eyes full of tears, went on, “If only there was somewhere I could work, so my children’s wages could be their own. At the very least, they would have some money to go out with their friends, to participate in social activities, to go to the cinema, or theatre. I find myself infringing on their rights. In that regard, I feel guilty. This is a difficult situation for a father to be in.”
The only employed member of a family of five, B., and his cousin, E., join our conversation. Because they risk being fired if their identities are revealed, we are unable to provide names or photographs. B., who works for minimum wage, is only 22. He said, “While a 22 year old should have different aspirations, to be made responsible for the survival of an entire family reflects a very sad state of affairs in this country. The burden of livelihood for your entire family rests on your shoulders. We’re unable to improve ourselves because of the burden of subsistence.”
B., who said, “I can’t even buy a coat or pair of shoes I like,” continued, “Coat prices have reached 1,000 liras. Shoes that I would buy for 100 liras four or five years ago are now 1,000 liras. Believe me when I tell you, I ration my breakfast so as to have something left over for the next day. By rationing my breakfast, I put aside some tea money. The only place we can go out to is İbrahim’s cafe, who sells tea for a good price. His tea is good, but why can’t we go to a waterfront cafe in Beşiktaş? What difference is there between myself and the Ayses and Mehmets in the luxury apartments above us? Am I not a person? But in these conditions, I don’t want to take money away from the household. The situation is obvious.”
B., who told us he has no dreams particular to himself, said, “As young people, our dream is for the dollar to depreciate. As soon as a work opportunity abroad presents itself, we immediately think of fleeing. The reason is, I won’t be able to furnish my children with a future in this country. Even if I married and we both worked, I don’t think we could earn enough to live on.”
B. said, “If you have a girlfriend and the two of you go out, eating at a simple patisserie will cost you at least 30 liras. You go to the cinema, and if you decide to go for coffee afterwards, you’ll spend at least 100 liras. Being in love is a luxury, too. You need to find someone who’s willing to just sit on a park bench with you.”
B.’s cousin, E., joined our conversation, “I’m a student. Our house isn’t a rental, but we find ourselves tightening our belt in the final week before receiving our pay. We purchased two containers of cooking oil for 130 liras. In the case of a family, if a father works for minimum wage, should he pay his rent or his bills first? Minimum wage is not enough to live on, and anyone who says they’re getting by on minimum wage is probably lying.”
E., who told us that he began working during the pandemic in order to help support his family, said, “Because of the implementation of remote learning, I’ve returned home to my family. I have no choice but to work. You’re one more mouth to feed at home. You see yourself as a burden. I had to begin working. But I noticed that it was impacting my schoolwork negatively. I had to quit my job.”
E. said, “We can’t even go from here to Eminönü district,” and continued, “Going to and returning from Eminonu or Kadıkoy can easily cost 50 liras. Forget about leaving the city or the country, we can’t even leave our neighbourhood. Once a year, we’ll think about going to Eminonu or Kadıkoy. On the day before we leave, we’ll discuss travel expenses. Most of the time, we can’t gather enough money to cover the expenses of two people.”
(Translated by Çağatay ÖNCÜ)