Maside, a mother overwhelmed by fatigue, does not raise her voice. She pleads, despaired, and even considers slapping someone in frustration. Surrounded by her mother, husband, and daughter, all sharing the same struggle, Maside remains the decisive force guiding the family. “But can’t you see, sir? We have lost everything. Everything! Our clothes are all we have. I understand your point, but why can’t we enter our house? The building still stands, yet we cannot go inside to gather our belongings.” She urges, trying to push through the moment while denying what happened.
An official in front of him attempts to explain that many families share the same plight and that action is limited. “Ma’am, in our records your building is listed as heavily damaged. It must be cleared. They cannot enter to retrieve belongings. They cannot go inside. It is forbidden and dangerous. The building could collapse,” says the man.
“But we had everything there. Now we have nothing. What are we supposed to do? They are all there. Please,” Maside begs her husband, striving not only to persuade the official but to protect herself from the horror of the moment.
—Ma’am, I am truly sorry. I cannot share more. They must wait. There is no clear information yet. A judicial request to retrieve some belongings before demolition might be possible, but it will take months to process, and for now nothing is certain.
After pleading and some grumbling, the family leaves. “They are late for everything. What should we do now, my love? Shall we go?” Maside asks. The family has lived for generations in Istanbul, and Iskenderun has been one of the hardest hit areas in the earthquake that struck southeast Turkey and northwest Syria. It has been more than a week, and there is no choice but to move on. There is nothing left here.
a ghost town
Millions of survivors chose the same path. The streets of affected cities in Turkey today hold only those who have nowhere to go and nowhere to stay.
Across Iskenderun, tents fill spaces that were once open land and vacant lots. Most people do not want to return to their old homes. They should not, cannot, and do not dare. Even if the houses still stand, the risks are too great.
In the early hours after the quake, rescuers and volunteers arrived. Turkish teams and international crews worked to pull people from the rubble and save lives.
The race ended only after more than 200 hours had passed since the earthquake. A new workforce moved in, not police or soldiers but engineers. More than 10,000 civil engineers began a broad survey of the damaged cities to determine safety.
“Our task is to enter every building in every affected city, assess the damage, and decide if structural problems require demolition. Each building is first checked visually, focusing on columns and main walls. If cracks appear, demolition becomes likely,” says Gökhan, an inspector from the Ministry of Environment and Urbanization assigned to Iskenderun.
“If there are no visible cracks, some plaster is scraped and painted to verify integrity. Cracks would mean danger. If there are no cracks, the building is deemed solid. This is a rapid visual assessment that will be followed by urgent lab work in the coming months,” adds the engineer.
a race against time
A teammate nearby shakes her head and notes the urgency. “Our work is urgent because the goal is to return as many people as possible to homes rather than tents. We aim to reach as many buildings as we can, as quickly as we can. Yet the cataloging of homes across ten affected provinces will take months,” she explains. Despite speed, progress is steady and deliberate.
“I used to estimate numbers by eye in Alejandreta. Now I hear that in Antioch the estimate is that about 90 percent of buildings are damaged and may need demolition. It is a real tragedy,” says Gökhan.
Time runs on, especially for those who have slept in tents or camps for more than a week. The risk remains high for those living in vehicles or open spaces.
“All this happened in one night. The chaos will likely persist for a long time. The state has done what it can, but the situation is dire,” explains Hüseyin, a resident of Alejandreta who has found shelter in a field near the center.
“Being on the street at night is dangerous. Thieves target empty houses to steal valuables. Army units in civilian clothes patrol the area, yet danger remains. The city is empty and uncertainty lingers over what will happen next.”