Is ‘here’ still there? explores the fragile intersection of memory, place and change through the voices of Sinop's residents. By engaging in conversations with the locals about the ice factory, the shipyard neighborhood, the marketplace building, and the fortress prison complex, Is ‘here’ still there? weaves a tapestry of personal and communal histories through landmark structures of Sinop.

By capturing their recollections of these places, once integral to the fabric of daily life, but now all transformed and repurposed, and playing them within the locations being described, Is ‘here’ still there? invites listeners to re-imagine the past lives of these places and to engage with the ephemeral nature of memory.

We hear the voices of perhaps the last generation of people in Sinop, who still remember these places as they once were; functioning in their intended capacities. As these voices describe those places long ago - when the marketplace was vibrant with merchants and customers, when the ice-making building provided ice to fishers and residents alike, when the shipyard neighborhood had a “less than savory” reputation, and the prison complex had inmates rather than tourists - they evoke a sense of nostalgia and reflection on what has been lost and what has been gained, for better or for worse.

Marketplace Building

Hasan Onur, President of Sinop History and Cultural Research Association
Murat Yıldırım, Sinop Resident, Architect
Leyla Yıldırım, Sinop Resident
Zekiye İnce, Sinop Resident
Zeki Menekşe, Tailor shop owner at the marketplace
Ayla Tığlı, Deputy Mayor of Sinop

Transcription of sound placement:

A: It is something from about fifty years ago, you know.

B: It used to fulfill all of Sinop’s needs regarding fruit and vegetable trade and everyday shopping.

A: Yeah, it was Sinop’s meeting point, the only shopping center; there wasn't any other. There was nothing in the shipyard…

B: Yes.

A: ...neither in Meydankapı nor in other places like Gelincik. There were no marketplaces, nothing. Everything was there. If you wanted to buy fruit, you would go there. If you needed vegetables, you'd go there. And those shops were quite nice, clean, modern, and shiny then.

B: Yes, yes.
A: ...people, I don't know, it was as if they had received some training before on how to run shops, it was all so very nice. The situation fifty years ago was even better, cleaner than it is now.

B: It was neat.

A: It was more respectful, more neat. People did not have the same kind of money worries, there was no cheating like "I'll buy it for one and sell it for fifty." People would send their children. They would say, "What do we need? Two kilos of tomatoes, a kilo of pears, maybe some apples." The child would go and say, "My mom will pay when she comes back." It was all based on trust.

B: That is how it usually was.

A: It was nice, yeah. There was no such thing as fraud or theft. The fruits would be out in the open. In the evening, when the market closed, there was just one guard. And he was there just to protect the goods from animals, like birds, not from people. Everyone's stuff was…

B: Out in the open.

A: The shop was open. It was not even locked. That is how nice it was. Sinop had that special quality. I have never seen anything like it anywhere else in Turkey, but it was nice. On the lower floors, there were stalls lined up in rows. There were two butchers, one on either side, and the rest were…

B: Greengrocers.

A: Greengrocers, grocer and such…

B: Like that.

A: It was all very nice, very, very nice. On the upper floors... Well, that is typical of Sinop…

B: It was like storage for those below.

A: Sort of a storage…

B: They used them…

A:.. ...just a couple of them. People of Sinop, as I know, liked to be comfortable, they wouldn’t climb those stairs to the second floor.

B: You go upstairs…

A: People did not like going upstairs via those back stairs. They would even say, “If it is up there, bring it down so I can buy it." The upper floors were empty, except for a couple of things. For example, there was the ‘Hunters Club’. It was a joint club between the American soldiers at the radar station and the Turks here called the ‘Hunters Club’. They had offices, and they would gather there from time to time.

B: Uncle Hüseyin was there, delivering eggs to the radar station.

A: To deliver eggs, cheese, and milk to the American radar. Apart from that, the market was very functional. It was practically open twenty-four hours a day.

B: Yes.

A: It would only close between 11 PM and 4 AM. It was great, really great, and it had a central place in everyday life. People would walk down, do their shopping, and head back with their mesh bags and other things.

B: Back then, we had mesh bags for sure.

A: There were mesh bags, no plastic bags. It was great. I miss it a lot.

B: It was a small place.

A: Sinop was squeezed into that narrow strip of land back then. The whole city was inside what we now call Suriçi. From Meydankapı… Sinop was encircled by walls. Outside of Sinop, there were just a few scattered houses on the islands, Balatlar, and so on.

B: It was all green, full of trees and olive groves.

A: People grew vegetables there. They would bring them to the market to sell. They’d give them to someone they trusted at the market. They would pick figs around this time of year, bring them to the market, and sell them. But as settlements grew, when those areas were developed and buildings were built, the functionality of the market shifted to neighbourhood shops. First, the grocers. There was not a distinction between greengrocers and grocery stores back then. The grocery store had a greengrocer’s stand in front.

B: They had a grocery store in it. There are the olives, the cheese...

A: There was a grocery section in the back.

B: They also sold olive oil.

A: For example, you couldn’t buy bread anywhere but from the bakery.

B: Yes.

A: There was no such thing. You would go to the bakery for bread, and the butcher for meat. There were no frozen or packaged goods in the fridge. Like our friend Yusuf at the market. He is still around. I remember one day I told him, “Yusuf, I have seen this new system in Istanbul. Things are being packaged now. Lentils come in bulk, and granulated sugar comes in bulk... Everything is sold in bulk.” and so on…

B: In sacks.

A: Like sacks of bulgur, they would weigh and package them. I told him, "Start packaging things." Plastic bags started to appear. One day, I saw him packaging sugar into half-kilo or one-kilo bags, along with lentils, rice, and so on. It looked nicer, stacked neatly, and it was easier to sell. They are honest, clean people. That is how the packaging system started. It did not exist before. The Americans had a big influence on that. Sinop had a population of 9,000, and 3,500 Americans lived there.

Later, their families began to arrive. There were about sixteen or seventeen American tenants in the buildings around here. They were used to shopping at supermarkets in the US, not buying in bulk. When the Americans started demanding packed goods, people began to package things. For example, back in the day, they used to sell butter brought from the neighboring villages that came in churns. That wasn't very hygienic. The Americans would not buy it, and some Turks who had studied abroad did not either. So they started packaging butter, making the packaging nicer. This both spread the practice and modernized the trade. But gradually, the market's daily function decreased. But that was an era that came and went. If you ask me, do I miss it now? Of course, I do.

B: It was beautiful.

A: What do I miss? The good parts…

B: The nostalgia.

A: It was sincere and honest. There was no cheating. Nobody cared about a few cents… Trucks would come, come… Trucks would come from Samsun, and unload twenty crates of tomatoes, three crates of peppers, and so on. Nobody touched anyone else's pepper, or produce. If one shop wasn’t open, someone else would sell what the other was missing, and when the owner returned, they’d say, “I took a kilo of peppers from your shop, here is the money.” That is how it was. What I’m describing is not unique to Sinop; that is how Turkey was back then. We miss it.

A: You asked if women were allowed to go in and out. When I was around twelve or thirteen years old… When my father was unwell, I would watch the shop for a few days. I could open up the shop. And my neighbors, I don’t hesitate to mention their names; Uncle Cemal, Cemal Ersan, and the other uncles Talip and Hikmet would help me. They would support me for two or three days. And it was not about just going in and out to shop; at the age of thirteen or fourteen, I would look after the shop. I have those memories, and they were very supportive. I still have not forgotten. Every time I go there, I remember those days. Of course, things have changed now. The trade has changed too. These are my memories. I love the market very much. We spent our childhood there. That's it.

A: This market used to open at seven in the morning and stayed open until late in the evening. Most of the trade happened on the lower floor. The upper floor was empty. Now, the upper floor has been turned into something else, and there used to be two or three butchers on the lower floor.

Apart from that, the remaining sections were grocery stores and greengrocers... Considering Sinop's population at the time, that place served as Sinop's main market. In a way, it was Sinop's shopping mall. The weekly market was held there. The market day was Thursday, and it was set up there. How should I elaborate? The entire community of Sinop, including restaurant owners, would come there to shop.

Besides that, I have many memories. To talk about my memories, my summers were spent there with my father from elementary school until I started university. I have a very important memory I want to share. 12th of September oh, sorry, sorry 27th of May, not 1988… I believe it was the 27th of May (the day of a coup in Turkey), yes. At that time, the governor was also acting as the mayor. He came to visit the market. During his visit, all the shopkeepers in the market had formed a cooperative in the middle of the hall. Through this cooperative, there were no white grapes in Sinop, mind you, only black grapes. White grapes were brought in by trucks from Geyve and the İzmir region. They were sold and distributed through the cooperative.

Aside from that, there was really good trade happening in the market. It was just a normal commercial life. I do not recall anything especially extraordinary as a memory. But there was a warm, beautiful, and vibrant life there. The solidarity between friends, like the ahi system, where all the shopkeepers helped each other. It was like a modern-day ahi system in action. Now, let me tell you, at one point, Sinop had its own local vegetable and fruit production But it wasn’t enough to meet Sinop’s needs. It was only enough during the summer months, from June to August, with tomatoes, cucumbers, and all kinds of beans. There were some fields in what we called Gelincik neighbourhood, and they provided those. Some of them were our customers too.

For example, there were the Sağıroğulları, Cengiz Tuncer, and Gülümoğulları families. Their produce came from their fields. Let me share a memory with you, something from one morning. They would travel with donkey carts, with a cart behind the donkey filled with tomatoes, eggplants, and cucumbers. They would bring them to Kaleyazısı square, heading up from the market toward the bus terminal. We would go out. Whoever grabbed the cart first would get to negotiate the price first, and then someone else would come; no one else would approach. I was a child at the time.

Our neighbours merchants, they would also come out. These were grown men.
I would immediately rush and grab onto Sağıroğulları’s cart. It was like a stock exchange. When they gave a price, the other prices would adjust accordingly. I always went for their cart first. This is one of my most important memories. Another one is from one evening. The market had closed for the day. My father and I had done a great day’s earning, and my father said, “Son, I am tired, I am going home.” I said, “All right Dad, you go rest.” The market day was over. The market day was over. Then, three baskets, what we call küfe of pears arrived. At that time, they were called ‘government pears,’ very juicy, and beautifully yellow. They were amazing pears. I saw that there were around sixty, seventy, maybe even close to one hundred kilos of pears. I asked how much they were, and back then, it was not measured in kilos, but with batman. He said sixty lira or something like that. I accepted right away. I did not hesitate because such high-quality pears rarely came to the market. Anyway, I bought them. Of course, the others, the neighbouring vendors, could not say anything. I did not leave room for any negotiation. I immediately brought out the peach crates and stacked them in a row, first, second, third around thirty or forty crates.

On the upper floor, may he rest in peace, there was Hüseyin Abi, Hüseyin Altıner. He shouted from up there, “The first ones are mine.” He did not even ask about the price. It was one hundred seventy-five kuruş. The price I had bought them for was about ninety kuruş. The other one hundred fifty pence, the other one hundred twenty-five penny. Within an hour, I sold everything. I made thirty-five lira. We had not earned that much working all day. It was a significant amount of money. I happily went home and said, “Dad, I made 35 lira today.” He was really happy. That is one of the most important moments of my life. I do not recall any fights ever happening at the market. Some neighbours did not like each other, but there were never any fights, not even arguments. People did not hurt one another. There was an incredible level of cooperation. If someone had a payment due, the neighbours would help out. Except for a few, everyone helped each other. There was a kind of spiritual cooperative spirit passed down from father to son. I do not have much more to say beyond that.

L.Y: I remember a little Leyla Yıldırım when the market was still in full operation. Before I started elementary school, my father had a small shop. It was both a grocery store and a greengrocer, like a combination of the two. It seemed huge to me back then. Inside, there were creamy biscuits in tin, cubic boxes. I would eat some of the cream and leave the biscuits aside. At the time, the big square in the middle of the market felt enormous to me when I went there. I was not old enough to carry vegetables and fruits home.

My mom used to send me to relay messages as our house was in Kaleyazısı, in Samsat neighborhood back then. I was likely going to tell my father something, since it was a time when phones were rarely used. I was like a pigeon, sent with messages because I was not big enough to do anything more practical. But it had such a wonderful atmosphere. I can still remember the names of all the shopkeepers there.

The friendships, the camaraderie, I don’t know if there was any competition, but it did not feel like it. Because all the elders I saw there helped each other. If one did not have a vegetable, the other would immediately provide it. When I started elementary school, I gradually stopped going there as much. By the time I finished elementary school, my father had closed his shop. After that, it slowly faded away. For me, it was only a place to go because my father was there. Later, it did not interest me much at all. I focused on school and then continued on my path.

But, before this conversation, I wondered how it all ended. How has it stopped being in the marketplace? I mean, perhaps the arrival of bigger chain markets and grocery stores caused the shops there to close… Maybe they started to open supermarkets in Sinop fifteen or twenty years ago, but I feel like the market building stopped being functional much earlier. I could be wrong; this is just my instinct. But it holds a special place in my childhood. Every time I went there, my father’s shop was on the right, not the first shop, not the second, the third one. I went there years later, and I think there is a headman's office in that space now. Our friends there, especially Mr. Erkan, were very helpful. I took my father there, and Mr. Erkan talked with him. My friend Erkan and I had discussed that my father would share his knowledge on the subject, and we were going to record it, but we could not manage it in time. My father was a republican man born in 1920, or perhaps 1922. We lost him at the age of 95.

I wish that the municipality or businesspeople and different companies could come together to restore the building, allowing it to continue functioning, perhaps in a different capacity or even in the same useful ways we desire for such an institution. I believe that the building is beautiful because it has such magnificent architecture. I am ready to take responsibility for whatever I can do regarding the assessment of that building.

A: Now, someone has built this building and donated it to the municipality. So this place can neither be sold nor demolished. Before this was built, those who were 2-3 years younger than me remember this place as just an open field. the marketplace started operating in '57-58 and it has been like this ever since. There used to be a caretaker who took care of the cleaning here; he would open up in the morning and close it down in the evening.

Below was full of grocery stores, and it was a very nice place filled with shopkeepers. Over time, as temporary traveling markets started to come into town, the shopkeepers couldn't compete with them; some had passed away, some just left and this place got abandoned, that's the situation. It's been quite a while; there was a grocery store right across where the motorbike is parked right now and that was the last one to go, so it's been a while since then. It was the only one left; all the others had gone.

After the supermarkets came, this place gradually diminished. The marketplace used to be here and then moved toward Kaleyazısı with the traveling marketplaces, and then it went to the other side. The marketplace went that way. Those were nice times, it was quite busy. The upper floors were tailor shops, it was all retail. There was a wholesaler here, and there was one above too. It was full of traders and craftsmen, like tailors. There’s the Sinop Hunters Club over there, it used to belong to a tailor, and he moved here from downstairs.

The second floor always had tailor shops. Some left, like I said, and some passed away. That big building over there, you know, belonging to the Gonenc family, they had a two-story old building, and their father was a tailor; I took over the shop from them. That’s the situation. Now there’s no caretaker here either; the last person who leaves locks the place up well, and the first one who comes opens it. Of course, the people of Sinopale operate through that door. That’s how things are now. But we should be thankful for what we have now too; may the place be a paradise for those who built it and took care of it.

Back in the day, the Sinop market wasn’t like how it is now. It was quite active and crowded, with tailor shops on the upper floor, and the merchants and greengrocers on the ground floor, it was a bustling place. There were greengrocers below, and we used to come here to buy vegetables with woven baskets. Red peppers were sold by the piece for making paste.

Those were the beautiful days of Sinop and the lively times of the market. Right now, there is also Sinopale operating here; artists are working, and everyone is busy like bees. It has broken the silence of previous days. It really adds emotional depth to the place, I must say. All the young people, artists, they are all working, and I really enjoyed coming to the market today. I used to come here in '65-66. I was born in 1959. My mother would hold my hand and bring me here.

Later, a temporary traveling marketplace was established; we didn’t have that kind of marketplace before, we used to shop here. Those were nice days. Ships would come from Ayvalık to the shipyard, bringing olive oil and so on. There was a grocery store owned by Sarı Kadir, where olives and olive oils would be brought from, and we would buy oil in cans. We didn’t have such a functional market. Those were the good days of our childhood. There was Uncle Salih on the upper floor; he had passed away. Was there a butcher up there? Yes, I remember there was a butcher upstairs. We usually wouldn't go up to the upper floors; we usually used to leave when our work was done downstairs.

We generally shopped from the butchers in the neighborhood, closer to our house, because my father usually shops for meat. I remember that we once came to get pants made from Uncle Salih. He would sew every kind of clothing. He was also my friend’s father. We became friends with his daughter back in the day. Other than that… It was a very lively place. I can’t remember exactly who used to have shops, all by name, but it was quite busy with its greengrocers and shops.

People from different neighborhoods would meet here. So there would be meetings and encounters. It was like a gathering place. The shops would always be open, not just on specific days (like the temporary marketplaces called ‘pazar’ in Turkey). This place was always open. It would open early and stay open late at night. I sometimes used to watch when goods were being shipped in, you know, they would come with trucks. We had porters, and when we shopped, they would take our goods home with hand carts. We would give them money like a taxi fare. We would walk alongside the cart. I don’t remember many shops because we didn’t go up to the upper floor. There were butchers at the entrance, and they (one) still exist. I don’t remember the fountain at all. I don’t know if this one we see now was there back then. If it existed, I probably would have managed to get myself wet, and I would remember that. But I can’t recall that. Who was up on the upper floors? I don’t remember anyone other than Uncle Salih.

As I said, I haven’t been up there that much, so I can’t specify who was there. People of Sinop can be a bit leisurely; I wouldn’t say lazy… but we just don’t tire ourselves out. That’s why, as you mentioned, baskets would be swayed. You reminded me well of that. In the crates, there would be fruits, like wooden crates. I remember the peppers and tomatoes. My mother wouldn’t let me wander around and touch things because she thought I would mess things up, so we wouldn’t. That’s how it was. But this place will be even better in the future; I believe the marketplace will regain its former glory. Because Sinop, historically, has been a city with trade due to its port, producing wine and olives. I think it will regain those beautiful days and its commercial vitality.