That time at band camp when I had my life threatened by Kurdish rebels.
There is a major story behind this picture. It was taken in front of the Sultan Ahmed Mosque also known as the Blue Mosque in Istanbul in 1992. It was the day after I was extorted by and had my life threatened by a gang of Kurdish rebels. This was the the first of two trips I would take to Turkey while living and working in Germany. Despite warnings from the MWR tour guides (Army Morale, Welfare and Recreation who I booked most of my trips with at this time), I decided to go off and explore the city on my own the first night of a long Thanksgiving weekend trip. What could be better then to spend Turkey day in Türkei!
I walked from our hotel to the grand bazaar which was incredible. The smells, sounds and mix of people there were almost overwhelming. I was approached by a handsome young man who asked me in English if I had the time. Not an odd question in the pre cell phone days when people who wanted to keep track of the time of day routinely wore watches. When I responded and told him it was about 8:00 pm he said, “oh you’re American” and proceeded to tell me about a club on the other side of the Bosporus that plays great music and is frequented by Americans. He was heading that way and offered to share a cab with me. To my naive 30 year old brain that was looking for some adventure this was a hell yes.
As we rode he asked a bunch of questions that I would later realize were just queries to case me as mark. Yes I probably had money, no I wasn’t traveling with a squad of combat marines, I was just a lone civilian engineer wandering around the city by my self. He went as far as to point out the location of the American Embassy that we passed on the way. Adding to my undeserved sense of security. He told me that he was Kurdish and asked if I knew about his people’s fight for freedom. I had heard about it but that was about it.
When we arrived he offered to pay the cab faire for both of us which I thought was a great gesture. As soon as we walked in though my alarms went off. It was a dark dingy hole in he wall and yes there was a small dance floor but they weren’t playing any music an American would recognize and it was virtually empty. My gut was screaming turn around now and leave. I could make out a few woman at the bar as we were directed into a small private booth on the far side of the empty dance floor. My friend from the bazaar was still with me and asked if I wanted a drink.
I said yes and quite quickly a man in a fancy red waiters uniform approached with a wine cooler with a bottle of some liquor in it flanked by two of the women I had seen at the bar. I could now see they were barley dressed and very attractive. The women sat on either side of me and introduced themselves as coming from Russia. I found their accents intriguing but that was about it. The waiter brought glasses for all of us and poured drinks.
As my friend was telling me about how beautiful these women were it was only then that I realized where I was. Never having been in one I could only assume that I had walked into a brothel with a bunch of Russian prostitutes. My brain raced, I can’t tell these people at this point that I am gay, that might get me beat up or worse. I played back in my head how we got here and plotted out my escape path in my head while complimenting the women and then lying about having a wife at home. I could tell that my lack of interest in the woman was making everyone nervous.
I told the waiter I’d take the check and I had to go. He brought back a check and I did the conversion in my head. I was expecting perhaps $50 and was in shock when It came out to be something on the order of $700. My heart was racing as I realized full on what I had gotten myself into. I told him I was not going to pay that for one bottle of cheap alcohol. He left and came back with two men in suits who asked me to follow them. I was whisked off to a small room on the other side of the dance floor close to the entrance. The thought did occur to me to bolt for the door but given what came next that would not have been a good idea.
This small well lit room had one man behind a desk flanked by two huge men with open suit coats that reveled guns. There were at least two other men in that room who positioned themselves on either side of me. I made the futile argument that this was obviously a shakedown and I was not going to pay $700. I stopped myself from saying, “I am an American and I know where the embassy is!” They made it clear that I was not going to leave without giving them all of the cash I had on me. I had roughly $300 on me in dollars and Turkish Lira. They took what I had in my wallet and then proceeded to strip search me at gun point. They found the bulk of the money I had hidden in my sock. They were obviously good at their chosen profession.
They laid all of the cash I had on the desk and prodded me about access to an ATM and what cash I might have in my hotel room. I had wisely left all of my credit cards in the safe in my room. Arguably the only wise thing I did that evening. After what seemed like hours but was probably no more than 20 minutes when it was clear they had gotten as much from me as they could one of them reached into the pile of money and give me back enough Lira that would turn out to be just enough to get a cab back to my hotel. They were gangsters with a heart apparently. I got dressed and ran out out that place in the direction we had come from in the taxi.
Within a block I spotted a police car parked in a alley. I ran up to the open window on the driver side and to tried to explain that I was an American who had just been taken advantage of. They either didn’t understand English or pretended not to. Within minutes my friend from the bazaar approached and positioned himself in between me and the police and started talking to them in Turkish. At some point they all started laughing and I knew this pointless. He turned to me and said in English, “leave now or you are dead”. I had never before nor since had my life threatened and it was a tone I will never forget.
So I did. I was in a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language and barely knew where I was being accosted by men who were clearly outside of the law, bravado was out the window. I not just left but I ran across the highway we were next to and jumped over the median. To say that I was terrified would be an understatement. I went into a cafe a little ways down to get my composure and thought that I would call the American embassy from a pay phone there.
I decided that the embassy wasn’t that far from where I was and I had no idea how to call so I walked back to where I remember my Kurdish friend pointed it out. It was only as I stood outside of that compound did it occur to me how silly it would be to explain to them that I had guns pulled on me by folks who were obviously gangsters because I refused to pay for the company of the prostitutes in the brothel they ran that I had willfully walked into.
The evening was over and it was time to count my blessings and find my way back to the hotel. I turned around and walked outside of the line of sight of anyone who was probably already watching me from the embassy and waited to hail a passing taxis. I did in fact have just enough cash on me to pay for the taxis back to my hotel. On the ride back it occurred to me that everyone I had encountered from the man in the bazaar, the taxis driver and the police were all getting a cut of the money I left at that place.
The next day I took my travelers checks out of the hotel safe and converted them to Lira, boarded the MWR tour bus for a sight seeing tour of the city. Aside from the forced stops at the oriental rug vendors, it was a great experience and by time this picture was taken I could genuinely smile and say to myself, well this certainly has been an adventure! Not to be daunted I returned to the bazaar again that night and like clockwork I was approached by a different version of my friend from the night before who asked me if I had the time. This time I said, no I don’t and went about my business.
I didn’t tell anyone at the hotel or the tour group what had happened. I didn’t tell any of my friends when I returned home. It would be years before I would even tell family members about this adventure. So if you ever find yourself alone in the grand bazaar in Istanbul and a stranger approaches you to ask for the time, run back to your hotel and join your tour group!