Don’t forget the mothers’ tears while evaluating manifestos

Don’t forget the mothers’ tears while evaluating manifestos

In the fifth hearing of the Soma case, where 301 miners died, the mother of one of the victims addressed the panel of judges. “If I were the sea, my pain would be reflected on the shores… Why are you making us listen to the lies of these people? Could you ask them this: Have you ever held you dead son in your arms?” she said.

It was one of those proclamations that caused a deep silence. It was one that made a person question humanity. In this country, not a day passes without these questions echoing in court halls or at gravesides.
We are wasted everyday listening to the cries of the mothers and fathers, watching their sorrows desperately.  

When Özgecan Arslan’s mother kissed her tombstone and her photo, crying, “My beautiful girl, poor you, my henna color-eyed daughter…” 

When Ali İsmail’s father caressed his son’s photo and cried…

When Abdocan’s mother fainted after saying, “The murderer has shaved and put on a suit but my son is under the ground…”

When Ethem’s mother said, “I will come and go to this court until I die…”

 When 75-year-old mother Ayşe Gökçe, who lost her miner son when the Ermenek mine was flooded, asked, “My son did not know how to swim, what did he do in the water?”

When Nazmiye Gözbaşı was wailing, trying to dig up the ground with her nails, for her adopted son, “He died for a piece of bread. He did not have the value of an ant…”

When his biological mother shouted, “I want to go where my son is. God, take me to my son…”

At her son’s funeral, when mother Sevim Kandemir fainted after saying, “Soma swallowed my child. Did I send you to Soma in a coffin? I have not seen enough of you. I wish I were dead instead of you…”

Cancer patient Mustafa Akçan, who lost two sons in the disaster, said, “They made me survive up until now. It was my turn to die but they jumped the line…”

When İsrafil Odabaşı, who took his 14-year-old daughter to a university hospital for a dislocated shoulder and then had to take her to her funeral, said, “I brought my daughter here, she was like a flower. Now I am taking her like a dead flower. The Ministry of Health; hear of this death of my Ebru…”

When the case was closed with a decision not to prosecute any further in the incident when his 10-year-old son was shot dead with a hunting rifle, father Bayram Boz called to the officials, “When you hit your neighbor’s chicken, the state comes and investigates… Doesn’t my son have the value of a chicken?”

When the mother of a young woman who was killed because of male anger was shouting, “Don’t go my dear, don’t leave me, don’t go…”

Every time, we promised ourselves we would follow up the case, but we have been worn out of keeping track.

One after the other, police violence, women murders, workplace murders/accidents, the tears of the mothers and fathers never stopped flowing…

Those policies that did not hesitate to oppress women, youths, workers, the poor and the weak have transformed this country into a place where you cannot breathe. 

The country’s political parties have announced their election manifestos. Read all of them carefully and make your choice accordingly, but while making this choice, consider the mothers and fathers whose eyes dried up crying. 

It’s your choice, but the responsibility of its consequences belongs to you.