Of Terrorism and Hope     10/2/2001
By Trudy Chun

The call came to us by cell phone as we traveled through the desolate deserts of Turkey. “You need to turn on the news! They hit New York and the Pentagon.” We scrambled through radio stations searching for reports. We were sure it couldn't be as bad as it sounded. Things like that don't happen in America. They happened in places like Turkey, where we were. Not home in America.

Finally the news reports began. Airplanes hit both towers of the World Trade Center in Manhattan. One hit the Pentagon. All air traffic stopped. Surely there was a mistake in the translation. Not the twin towers—trademark of the New York skyline. Not the Pentagon—symbol of American military might.

But all too soon it was confirmed as we saw footage of the buildings fall while we had dinner at a roadside stop. We were a group of five Americans, one German and one Austrian on our way to Diyarbakir, Turkey, to put on a basketball camp for the street kids who overrun the city. Diyarbakir is about 150 km from Iraq and Syria. It is considered by Kurds to be the capital city of what should be Kurdistan. It is the headquarters of the PKK (deemed “freedom fighters” by some, “terrorists” by others).

We represented GoodSports International—a sports-based ministry to children throughout Eastern Europe. In Diyarbakir we partnered with a local children’s center, which aims to get street children into school and promote a better future for the next generation.

So in the wake of a tragedy caused by Islamic extremists, we found ourselves immersed in a Muslim world—a precarious situation for some. But for us, it brought home the reality that Muslim people are not our enemy—that although they wear headscarves and revere the Koran, they are still people who hold the same desperate needs of all humanity. And in that world, we sought to reach out to the “least of these”—the children of the streets.

Most of these children have families, but in poverty-stricken Diyarbakir, few have jobs. The children sell everything from tasteless gum to small packages of Kleenex and the pittance they earn allows their families to survive. Since these families are largely uneducated, they see little value in schooling—and could not afford it even if they did.

More than 700 children are registered with the center where we worked—and that is but a fraction of the swarms of street children who fill the streets of the ancient city. About 100 participated in the camp. On the first day, a flood of aggressive, street-wise children flowed out onto the court. They were tough and clearly had not bathed in months. But out of those filthy, smelly childlike frames beamed eyes filled with excitement about the Westerners who had come to play with them.

And the “events of Sept. 11,” which rocked the world, also touched Diyarbakir. Constantly, people expressed their condolences. Even these children who doubtlessly have no TV or radio at home were not ignorant as to the events of the world. Over and over, they said how sad they were about what had happened in our homeland. The children even said that they understood if we could not go on with the camp because of it. But when we did, it sent a message to them—that they are valuable in our eyes.

The camp attracted some media, asking for a reaction to what had happened in America. Our response was: “There will always be evil in the world, we cannot control that. However, we will not let this current evil distract us from our responsibility here to the children of Diyarbakir. We will stay focused on making their lives fun and for a brief moment livable.”

And so the camp commenced—the older children developed basketball skills and the younger kids had a good time with games like “duck, duck, goose.” Faces were painted with their names or to look like clowns. After each day of camp, they would return to the streets to sell their wares.

Before the end of the four-day camp, everyone in town seemed to know who we were. Our pictures were in the paper. Reuters did an article and CNN Turk featured these visiting Americans as “ambassadors of peace.”

Perhaps the most interesting insight came from a reporter with Reuters News Service. “What you are doing here is very important especially considering the tragedy in your own country,” he said. “Because these children from this area are the ones terrorist organizations recruit. And by knowing you and having you here, giving to them while your own country is suffering terrorist attack, they see what kind of people are hurt by terrorism.” The young Turkish reporter acted as a translator one day and even brought a friend to help out.

“You are giving them more than a basketball camp,” he said. “You could be changing their destiny.”

This is our prayer—that a world wrought with misconceptions about Christianity might receive a glimpse of what Christians really are, and in this that their destiny may be changed for eternity.

Trudy Chun is a former editor for Concerned Women for America. Her husband is an Army major stationed at the U.S. Embassy in Ankara, Turkey.

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