Tigris

In Summer of 2010, I went to Turkey to do a study abroad for Political Science. While we were there, we went on excursions throughout the country to explore different regions, political institutions and cultures. One day we went to the Tigris River in Southeastern Turkey to tour and explore the region, where I was later inspired to write a creative piece based on my experience that day. I wrote it for another editing class, and have it saved on another personal blog as the first of many creative pieces I have written in my spare time. Although I am interested in reporting or working in foreign relations, I would also be interested in blogging about travel experiences and this is the piece that relatively sparked my interest.

The bus doors swing open and I’m immediately greeted by a blast of hot air and the sound of a wailing prayer from a mosque just barely in earshot. The two hour bus ride seemed to go all too quickly- then again, it’s something I expected after international flights and multiple weeks of touring around the country while I wasn’t in class. The sun is high, and I can’t find my sunglasses in the mess of crap that I’ve accumulated in the past day of traveling Southeastern Turkey. Not to mention, I’m irritated from my lack of sleep and whatever isn’t agreeing with me from dinner the night before. I eventually find my camera and slowly trail the group of dragging students from the bus into the sweltering heat. I let my eyes adjust to the brightness, and start taking pictures. We’re in the Batman province of Turkey, and no, Robin was nowhere in sight. However, we were only a few hours’ drive away from the borders near Syria and Iraq.

So this is what the Tigris River looks like.

We’re at the top of a hill, looking down to the shore of the river. Little Kurdish children start to swarm the bus, handing us notes in English saying “I love you,” while offering their services as tour guides. Where their parents were, I don’t know. But these kids knew how to hustle. Growing up in Colorado, I expected something raging with class 5 rapids, something that had the sublimity of the Grand Canyon or Pikes Peak that roared with grandeur. But this isn’t so. The Tigris is a slow flowing, wide and shallow river that has a light murky turquoise color- something I had never seen before. It moves with the ease of a wise old woman who is in no hurry to get from here to there, carrying stories from civilizations that we can only read about in history books. Its intimidation wasn’t stemming from its size or intensity, but its calm beauty and significance in the world.

After a few moments of taking pictures, we notice a group of people gathering together by the riverbank and the crowd is growing quickly. I turn around, and see a young boy talking to our tour guide while pointing to the congregation. “There’s a little boy in there. He’s been down for a couple of minutes and he hasn’t come up from the water… I guess he tried to cross with his father and got swept under,” the tour guide says. The child tells this story like it’s regular town gossip. The tour guide’s face has a look of concern but helplessness. The crowd is growing larger now.

We continue our walk across the bridge into the town. As we pass through a street laden with Mesoptamya shops and cafes, we could see more and more people look down to the riverbank to see if they could spot the boy. Making our way to a deck overseeing the river, we could now see a life raft with people searching the bottom in one direction. In the other direction, people are sitting on the café porch drinking tea, watching the spectacle from the shade. “This happens all too often. Life is cheap here,” says the professor. We head down to the banks to take pictures and pick up some rocks, while trying not to get the scene in the background. “I think they’re close to finding the body, we should go,” someone said after about ten minutes. Slowly, we make our way back up to the bus. Once again greeted by children, we exchange goodbyes, and take the road back to what we consider real life with our newfound memories from the birthplace of civilization.

---

Even if creative writing isn't my full time career, it has been some of the fuel to my writing fire. I know that if I want to be successful, I need to keep up with the digital age in my writing skills and learn how to write for online media and how to target my audience when literally anyone can access what I write. Since I want to know how to work with journaling online just posting something like this on this blog is another step in gaining experience!