Turkey’s No Treat for Street Animals
Society Fights for Animal Rights

By Robin Roth


(Izmir, Turkey) If ignorance is bliss, then enlightenment must be misery. But when Dr. Burcu Ayadar saw a horse hit by a passing motorist, her life changed for the better. Within minutes, her once-peaceful morning in the Turkish city of Izmir turned into a grueling week of veterinary visits, rejection and a lifetime of animal aid.

The horse, now named Hope, had a broken leg as a result of the collision, but vets wouldn’t treat her. Instead, managers at a nearby zoo wanted to feed Hope and three other horses to the lions, a common fate for homeless horses wandering the ancient roads of Izmir.

“I couldn’t let them die,” Ayadar says. An artist with advanced degrees—including a Ph.D. in design—Ayadar not only found homes in local villages for the four horses destined to be dinner, but also began working full time for Turkey’s street animals, putting her entire savings into animal activism and care. “After that I decided to dedicate my life to the animals that need my help,” she says.

Her conversion was complete with the formation of the newly founded Stray Animal Save and Alive Society, where Ayadar’s unflagging crusade for the four-legged, furry and forlorn takes her all around Izmir and surrounding cities of the Aegean. Rife with ruins—and boasting more classical visages than Greece—Turkey is close to Greece both in proximity and attitudes. The Greek lag notoriously far behind their European Union counterparts concerning animal welfare issues, and Turkey is not much better.


“We haven’t done anything for strays since the Ottoman Empire,” Ayadar admits, although if she has her way, Turkey’s humane organizations won’t be far behind wealthier, more developed nations.

As the president of SASAS, Ayadar aims to further the organization’s widespread spay/neuter project, along with food and veterinary care for Turkey’s countless stray animals. Without a van or a mobile ambulance, Ayadar transports the animals in her own car to local clinics, where dozens of dogs and cats are spayed and neutered each week. In addition, the animals receive rabies vaccines, antibiotics (if needed) and a couple of days of care before being released back to the street. Only sick, injured or aggressive dogs and cats are kept at SASAS’ current makeshift shelter.

Animal shelters aren’t altogether a foreign concept in Turkish society—several exist in major cities such as Istanbul, Ankara, Antalya and Izmir—but municipal concern for city strays traditionally doesn’t extend beyond their requisite roundup and subsequent death. Similar to the situation in Greece, Turkey’s homeless animals are routinely poisoned in an effort to control their numbers. Built on brutality and ignorance, this cruel system of animal control has continued for years, but because of Ayadar’s influence local officials have undergone a change of heart: Not only did the police chief of Ankara donate bricks and wire to build a new shelter, but the mayor of Urla provided Ayadar with 6.5 acres of shelter land after an activist placed the lifeless body of a poisoned street dog on his dinner table.

“He was shocked,” Ayadar relates. “The day after he called me and invited me to a meeting. I told him poisoning wouldn’t solve the problem of strays in the world because if you kill one dog another one will take its place. But if you castrate the dog there won’t be another dog. In that way you can easily follow [the animals’] numbers and keep them under control.” In addition, she continues, castration—not poison—is the most cost-effective means of animal birth control. “He understood what I meant. I think he was very sad about the fate of that dog. We shook hands and promised each other to work in peace for that project.”

But not all endings are so happy.

According to Ayadar, hunger, disease and death are prevalent problems for the street animals SASAS seeks to save. In the organization’s current shelter in Ornekkoy, more than 300 dogs struggle for protection from the cold and rain in limited makeshift wooden sheds and open oil drums. Even with carpets inside, and recently acquired electric heaters, puppies still freeze to death during winter weather. Concrete shelters are desperately needed, along with a more permanent home for aggressive and handicapped dogs. And while plans are under way to begin construction of a new animal shelter in Urla—complete with administration area, surgery room, fenced landscape and individual kennels for 500 hard-to-place dogs—construction can’t be completed without proper funding.

Worldwide economic downturns have resulted in decreased donations, and individual contributions are not enough to pay for vaccines and vittles for hundreds of street animals castrated and cared for each week by an organization whose main goal is castration and release. While city officials bring buckets of leftover food from the air force daily, major pet food companies have yet to sponsor SASAS.

And while Ayadar worries about the animals’ welfare, she also fears for the volunteers—almost all women—who work round the clock caring for shelter animals, along with catching, castrating and releasing stray dogs and cats. The shelter must hire a night guard, as armed intruders have stormed the sanctuary, and female volunteers have reported being stalked by mysterious men. In a country where women are traditionally subservient to husbands and sons, animal rights has becomes an extension of a latent feminism. “We feed them instead of ourselves,” Ayadar says of the animals. “Some of us used to lie to our husbands to pay for their medication.”

Social change is significant since SASAS started, and Ayadar reports that attitudes toward animals have changed. Veterinarians, for example, are sympathetic to the cause of Turkey’s cast off street animals and are willing to volunteer their services. More importantly, Turkish society is beginning to have more of an understanding of animal rights. Recognizing that more widespread social change must come with education, which would be an important milestone in solving the chronic crisis of animal suffering in Turkey, SASAS implemented a teaching program with humane educators working in the elementary schools of Izmir.

“People have a general idea about strays now, and have started to adopt dogs and cats from animal shelters,” Ayadar says. While many people keep expensive purebred dogs and cats as pets, more are beginning to understand the meaning of responsible animal care. “We are always telling them that you don’t have to pay a lot of money to have a friend. Come and see their eyes—you won’t see the difference from a more expensive dog.”

With so many animals and so few homes (Ayadar, along with her family and friends, has adopted dozens of dogs and cats), what the organization really needs is strong international support. As Turkey strives for greater acceptance from the European Union, Ayadar believes her country must work for both human—and animal—rights. In an economically challenged and unstable country, building an animal rights and protection movement is no easy task.

Animal rights in Turkey must change, SASAS supporters say. And while the spay/neuter project currently solves the problem of thousands of street animals, a far more challenging goal is to make a sustainable and permanent difference for animal rights in Turkey.

“Our animals are very desperate,” Ayadar says. “But no matter what country someone lives in, all who love and help animals are close to each other.”

This holistic philosophy guides all SASAS interaction. Ayadar endlessly queries journalists and animal rights organizations around the globe for monetary and veterinary support. While volunteers arrive with veterinary supplies and fund-raising expertise, SASAS affiliates—such as Eva Kulec, SASAS’ Austrian president—grow across the globe, but the situation for the animals still sometimes seems insurmountable.

Despite the heartbreak and hardship of a relatively thankless job, Ayadar has no regrets. She raises much-needed funds from friends, and sells beads and ceramics to raise more. Ayadar is also using up her savings and is selling family jewels to obtain money, according to one source. And while some may call a career catering to cast-off critters crazy, Ayadar exists on another level, where financial rewards aren’t one’s motivation in life, unless less fortunate beings can benefit. She’s happier than she’s been in years, she says, although she works harder than ever in a seemingly never-ending fight for Turkey’s street animals.

“Maybe I am not earning money now,” Ayadar admits, “but I’m very happy to be free.”

 

SASAS (STRAY ANIMALS SAVE AND ALIVE SOCIETY)
2011 Sok.No:8/5 Bostanli 35540 Karsiyaka, Izmir, Turkey
Phone and Fax:0-232-3367763
0-532-4162777

SASAS Austria
www.tierhilfe-gst.at
E-mail: animalsave@isnet.net.tr
EVA KULEC: tierhilfe-gst@aon.at
Phone: area code (232)-3367763
Cell phone:0-532-4162777


Help the Stray Animals of Turkey Now: Donate to SASAS...Donations to SASAS can be deposited directly to the following account number: 0934 0059 7379 0000 009, OZLUK NO: 41417; T.C. ZIRAAT BANKASI, Deniz Bostanli Subesi Bostanli Karsiyaka -IZMIR -TURKEY


Donations to SASAS can be deposited directly at:
T.C. ZIRAAT BANKASI
Deniz Bostanli Subesi Bostanli Karsiyaka -IZMIR -TURKEY
account:

0934 0059 7379 0000 009

OZLUK NO: 4141