Poem for Istanbul

June 1, 2013

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I spent a week in Istanbul, Turkey during one of the most critical times in it's recent history.

Documentarist Film Festival, May 29 - June 4, 2013

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I saw:
a game of revolutionary chess
thousands of cell phones watching every move.
the rock thrower, the screamer,
the halloween mask, the flag-waver,
the slogan on the wall spray-painter,
a woman having a nervous breakdown.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I saw:
the exhilaration of common cause
the effervescence of chaos
thousands upon thousands of Turkish faces
drunk on freedom and adrenaline
and lots and lots of cats.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I saw:
the delicate rainbow of water cannon mist,
a single spent tear gas canister
trampled upon by a sea of angry pride.
oh, how I wanted to bring it home to show you.

and big old proud water cannon truck #63535,
the same one I recognized on BBC two days later
causing mayhem in another part of town.
Hey, I know you!

And oh yea, while I'm on the subject of television, while all this is going on,
mainstream Turkish media is broadcasting cooking shows.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I heard:
cheering, jeering, chanting, clapping,
first ten, then a hundred, then a thousand people
in rhythm…
spontaneous, exuberant, utterly urgent,
the banging of fists on metal gates.
saying we are here. listen to us
dammit.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I heard:
the whack of tear gas canisters
fired at close range
the growl of a water cannon truck inching it's way closer
thousands of footsteps running away
thousands of screams, boos and hisses
the lone cry of a seagull flying through the smoke.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what I felt:
the putrid mist of light gray tear gas
burning, tearful bloodshot eyes,
burning lungs, lots of coughing,
and a sense of being on the cusp of suffocation.

how easy it is to hate authority
authoritarianism
brutality.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is how I felt:
like a sniper…
hovering over Istiklal Street below
wondering what had come over me
as I pondered whether I could,
all the while pretending that I would,
take out that overly aggressive riot cop --
the one with the burly build
if I had the chance, or a way
to find a soft spot in his bullet-proof armor.

I went to Istanbul to give a master class and this is what i learned:
shower with cold water after exposure to tear gas;
hot water only makes your body absorb the poison.

vinegar, lemon juice, and milk afterwards can help ease the pain
Vic's VapoRub in your nostrils beforehand takes away the sting.

that revolution in the streets is not for children or the elderly,
they're not built for this kind of chemical attack on the senses,
let alone the whack of the water cannon.

that historic moments come suddenly, unexpectedly,
that a social contract should be of and for the people,
not despite the people.

that I'm more than a little scared by all of this.
that I don't want my eyes to burn, or my lungs to fail,
that it only takes one trigger-happy finger before the bullets start flying
that I've never ever felt very comfortable in a crowd,
or wanted to be a member of any club...
and that I certainly don't want to die,

but I just can't stay away...