Underground

As we are driving through the Cappadoccian steppe from Ilhara Village to Derinkuyu's underground village we see something flash across the asphalt in flurry. I dismiss it as a coke can, or perhaps a small plastic bag, which seems odd, given the relative cleanliness of the roads throughout Turkey. The blur happens again, and again, only the third time we have slowed right down in order to solve the mystery of the blur to find that the supposed item of rubbish picks itself up on the other side of the road, and stands upright, sniffing the cool air vigorously whilst making squeaking noises. This is no discarded item, but some kind of rodent, meercat-like surveying the surrounding fields and and the long empty road ahead. I whip out my brand new digital camera in order to capture the little fellow but he turns into a blur again, swiftly running through he sparse roadside vegetation and disappearing down into the earth. When we look closely, we can see that these holes are everywhere, they must be providing refuge for hundreds of the tiny creatures.

We crawl along down the highway, keeping eyes peeled for movement, and once we know what we're looking for the become easy to spot, bathing in the dust, squeaking and running, then disappearing down their holes when we get to close or stare too long. When I feel like I have sufficient proof of this rodents existence we speed off towards our destination.

The underground city at derinkuku was once home to some 10 000 early Christians hiding from Persian and Arab invaders who came on a rampage to pillage and destroy. They took their families and their valuables into these dug out caves and cooked, ate, abluted and hid down there whenever it seemed their safety was in jeopardy. Air holes were disguised as wells, and large stones were rolled over entries to confuse the Muslim marauders.

We buy our tickets and line up at the Giris (entrance), preparing to drop 8 stories down into the earth. The passage way is narrow and small, forcing us to bend over in the position of the women working in the fields. The descent is musty and dark.

I pass a group of American tourists, contemplating an early return to the surface, and plow past a tour group who are getting extensive explanations about the dug out rooms and their original purposes. Usually I might linger in order to catch some commentary,but in this cool subterranean tunnel I am keen to keep on keeping on, see what there is to see and return to the sunlight as quickly as possible.

I am almost on my hands an knees negotiating another tunnel when I hear voices, screams almost, coming from below. It sounds like the screaming souls of the Byzantines trapped in here long after their bodies have disintegrated and their valuable possessions distributed elsewhere. the sound echoes eerily and my hear is thumping loudly in my chest.

Suddenly the tunnel opens out into a small room, and the source of the screams is revealed; a bunch of noisy Turkish school children, screaming and laughing, the sound waves bouncing off the earthy walls.

I need to get out. I need to inhale fresh air. I plow through the kids, searching for the blue exit arrow, but all I find is a musty wall, a dead end.

The kids, unaware of my panic, are chatting and screaming and blocking my way. I'm not even trying to be polite as I push past them.

I find the way out, only to be stuck behind a young American couple, the female of the pair intent on photographing every nook and cranny, preventing my much needed swift exit. The wait is excruciating.

Finally the path becomes wide enough for me to overtake and I'm nearly, I'm almost, I'm pushing out into the sunlight.

What a relief, to be above ground, recovering my breath and my sanity. I don't want to imagine what life might have been like hiding under there for days and weeks on end.

Did they feel safe, protected by the layers of earth on top of them? Or was it as torturous for them as it was for me?

As we leave Derinkuyu and its human rabbit warren behind us I keep my eyes peeled for my rodent friends, but the seem to be hiding, below ground, away from my searching eyes.

They can have their burrows, the rodents, I have no desire to exist below ground. Whatever malevolent forces exist up here in the sunlight, whatever conflict- I'll
happily face them if it means fresh air, the sun's yellow rays, and easy escape routes from large groups of noisy school children!