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Kurdish livestock owners and farmers in eastern Türkiye are returning to the mountains with their animals after decades of PKK terrorism, as Ankara is proceeding with the terror-free Türkiye process.
“We’ve been coming here for a long time. Thirty years ago, we used to come and go, but then we couldn’t come. Now we just started to come again and to bring our animals as we want,” 57-year-old Selahattin Irinç told Agence France-Presse (AFP), while gently pressing his hand on a sheep’s neck to keep it from moving during shearing.
On July 11, a symbolic weapons destruction ceremony in Iraq’s Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) marked a major step in the PKK terrorist organization dissolving itself.
PKK terrorism has caused tens of thousands of deaths over the past decades.
Alongside several other men and women, Irinç practices animal husbandry in the grassy highlands at the foot of the Cilo Mountains and its Resko peak, which stands as the country’s second-highest peak, with an altitude of 4,137 meters (13,572 feet).
A place of scenic beauty, with waterfalls, glacial lakes and trekking routes, Cilo has gradually opened its roads over the past few years to shepherds and tourists alike as the armed conflict with the PKK died down against the backdrop of peace negotiations.
But the picturesque mountains had long been the scene of heavy fighting as terrorists took advantage of the rough terrain to hide and strike.
‘Last generation’
Although the peace process brought more openness and ease to the region, tensions did not vanish overnight.
Checkpoints remain in place around the city of Hakkari, as well as at the main access point to the trekking path leading to the Cilo glacier, a major tourist attraction.
“Life is quite good and it’s very beautiful here. Tourists come and stay in the mountains for one or two days with their tents, food, water and so on,” said farmer Mahir Irinç.
But the mountains are a hard, demanding environment for those making a living in their imposing shadow, and the 37-year-old thinks his generation might be the last to do animal husbandry far away from the city.
“I don’t think a new generation will come after us. We will be happy if it does, but the young people nowadays don’t want to raise animals; they do whatever job is easier,” he lamented.
An open truck carrying more than a dozen women made its way to another farm in the heart of the mountains, where sheep waited to be fed and milked.
The livestock graze at the foot of the mountains for three to four months, while the weather is warm, before being brought back to the village.
“We all work here. Mothers, sisters, our whole family. Normally, I’m preparing for university, but today I was forced to come because my mother is sick,” explained 22-year-old Hicran Denis.
“I told my mother: Don’t do this anymore, because it’s so tiring. But when you live in a village, livestock is the only work. There’s nothing else,” she said.
