Unforgettable Memory Richter Scale 7.8 Earthquake
On the third anniversary of this devastating earthquake, I want to share with you the painful memories of that moment and the unforgettable, terrifying scenes.
As we slept soundly in the early hours of Monday, February 6, 2023, at 4:17 AM, we awoke to a horrifying and deeply disturbing reality: the moment the powerful earthquake struck, shaking the entire country.
In those moments, it felt like Judgment Day. The house shook violently, the walls screamed from the force of the tremors, and everything around us seemed to be moving, as if the end was near. There was nowhere safe, no time to think about anything but survival. Although wars had already exhausted everyone, this earthquake added another layer of pain to our suffering.
When we woke up, we couldn’t comprehend what was happening. It was a feeling we had never experienced before with such intensity and terror. We rushed out of the house, searching for a safer place, as staying inside posed a real danger in case the building collapsed.
Everything around us felt strange; even the air was thick with fear. The screams of our neighbors, the sound of collapsing rubble, the biting wind, and the brief silence that followed the storm all of it reminded us of the fragility of life and how suddenly death can strike.
That day, what we experienced was not just a local tremor, but one of the most powerful natural disasters in the region’s history. A 7.8 magnitude earthquake struck southern Turkey and northern Syria at dawn, followed hours later by another powerful aftershock, leaving widespread devastation and affecting millions of people. Tens of thousands were killed, many more were injured, and hundreds of thousands of buildings were damaged or destroyed, leaving countless families homeless amidst freezing temperatures and the disruption of essential services.
Every passing second was a mixture of fear, shock, and pain. This agonizing memory will remain etched in our minds forever, for it was not a fleeting moment, but a life-or-death experience.
What hurts most is the heavy burden of constantly being expected to be strong, silent, and grateful simply for surviving. As if mere survival were enough as if the fear that has taken root within us, the long sleepless nights, and the memories that haunt us with every sound or tremor are not worth acknowledging. The trauma doesn’t end with the disaster; rather, it begins afterward, when one is forced to live a “normal” life while carrying hidden ruins within ruins that no one else can see or hear.
Three years have passed, yet the earthquake hasn’t become a distant memory. Instead, it has become a defining moment in my life and the lives of everyone who lived through that painful experience. It was a moment of rupture that redefined the meaning of safety, belonging, and even hope. Since that day, safety is no longer a given, and homes are no longer just walls that protect us; they now seem fragile, liable to collapse at any moment. Whenever I hear news of an earthquake in other countries, that unsettling, unforgettable feeling returns suddenly, as if I am transported back to that night. And everything we hear about earthquakes around the world brings back those disturbing moments and revives the terror, as if the disaster has never truly ended.
Before the earthquake, I had been considering emigration, but after this terrifying experience, I decided to postpone the journey. The earthquake was a harsh lesson about the value of life, the difficulty of making decisions amidst sudden fear, and the necessity of being cautious in every step of life, especially after facing death head-on.
I left my country because of the wars, the earthquakes, and the constant danger that surrounded my life. It was not a single event that pushed me to leave, but an accumulation of fear, instability, and personal risk. The society around me had become increasingly unsafe for someone like me. I no longer felt protected by my community, nor supported by the system that was supposed to safeguard our lives.
War had already taken away our sense of normality. The earthquake shattered what little security we had left. Beyond these disasters, there was also the personal danger I faced within my own social environment a place where I could not live freely, express myself openly, or feel truly safe.
Leaving was not a choice made lightly. It was a decision born out of survival. Staying meant continuing to live under the shadow of fear fear of violence, fear of disaster, fear for my personal safety, and fear of losing my life at any unexpected moment. I left in search of safety, dignity, and the basic human right to live without constant threat.
Then came the perilous journey itself a journey fraught with hardship and difficulty, adding another layer of pain, exhaustion, and psychological stress.
This text represents only a small part of the suffering I endured. Anyone who reads my story will feel a glimpse of what we went through. After all those harrowing moments, and after all the difficult decisions I made to confront death, fear, and destruction, the experience of emigration brought me yet another hardship.
In the Netherlands, after a two-year wait, I felt that everything I had suffered wars, earthquakes, and devastating losses had not been properly appreciated or acknowledged, as if pain had no value and survival had no meaning.
Where are human rights in all of this?
