Crossing the Border

by Fatma Hacioglu (Turkey)

Making a local connection Bulgaria

When you visit new places; you connect with local people and discover their stories; and this experience makes you feel more human. But my travel to Krumovgrad with my grandparent at the beginning of 2000s was not for discovering a new place with unknowns. On the contrary it was a journey to the town where I was born in; it was a long-awaited reunion for forbidden lands. There was conflict between Turkish minorities and Bulgarian nationalist for long years after Cold War. Me and my grandfather has never gone back to Krumovgrad since our forced migration to Turkey while I was two years old in 1989. However there was so many stories told about our town during family meetings that I have already known every street of this town by heart. But I was also grown up with the feeling of forbidden lands, where I should have never felt as home since it is Bulgaria and we are Turkish minorities in Balkans. And feeling this town as a home as a minority in Bulgaria was not acceptable for both side. Krumovgrad, named after Krumovtsi River, is a small town with a population of 30.000 in southeast Bulgaria, close to Greek border. After you pass the border check-point “Kapitan Andreevo” in Turkish border, shadow of Cold War period welcomes you and you lost the feeling of present time. Everywhere is full of yellow and dim light throughout the streets; every tree has countless black crows on it, you need to drive two more hours toward southeast Bulgaria among devilish noises of these crows in order to arrive Krumovgrad town. It is possible to see this lonely town among poplar trees after you pass endless zigzag roads. Last century of this town is filled with the sorrow of people who experienced two world war, Cold War and forced migration. You can definitely grasp the idea that these people are trapped in past and they certainly do not belong to this century when you observe their looks and postures. Shade of all these sorrows are so apparent in people’s face, in streets and even in houses; this town and people are locked in the last century. You can come across with old people, who still talk about Yuri Gagarin’s landing on the moon, while they are taking a short break under poplar trees. You can see great Han Kurum statue, founder of the town, at the center of the town. You can taste popular Brazilian coffee with sparkling soda in one of the small cafes straggled around town center. When you start to walk through Rhodope Mountains from town center, you can meet with women, who already collected tobacco leaves before sunrise and trying to string leaves in order to sundry. When you go further, you can meet grave digger sitting under dry plum tree. And he will say to you “I buried my father, he died in his bed; I buried my wife, she died of cancer because of Chernobyl Disaster; I buried my son, he was tortured him by death during Communist Regime”. When you start to climb ridgeway, you can see vineyards in foothills of Rhodope Mountains on both sides. If you are lucky enough, one of the villagers may serve you their home-made wines. When you arrive the hill, you can see how Krumovtsi River connects with spectecular Arda River, Greece salutes you nearby and you are never able to understand which century this town belongs from that point. This short walk from town center to the hill was a flash back of my grandfather’s life in Krumovgrad. He was the local who drink his Brazilian coffee; he was the grave digger under plum tree; he was the woman who collected all the tobacco leaves before sunrise; he was the wine maker and he was the man who stared his town above Rhodope Mountains longingly. Travel with my grandfather was an ode to the past, it was an experience of crossing the border. It is a place to experience another time in present time, it is a place to feel the soul of past filled with world wars, Cold War, Communism and forced migration.