ON HOME, TABLES, AND BELONGINGS

When does a person truly notice a home?

Perhaps while sinking into a sofa longed for after a long absence. Or around a shared table. In an unexpected word. In a familiar smell, or in a taste remembered from childhood. Sometimes, in the strange sense of closeness felt beside a stranger.

Sometimes, most of the time, home is more than a structure defined by walls. It is something we slowly build within our memories, through our senses, and through the relationships we carry with us. This is why a meal, a voice, or simply sharing a table can bring back that feeling of familiarity we have been searching for.

Following this idea, as part of my field research on home, belonging, and the table with Antakya residents and people whose lives have crossed paths with Antakya, I conducted my first interview with dear Karel Büyükgazel. Working on the ground to restore Hatay’s relationship with its land and to make local production more sustainable, Karel sees the table as a social space where memory, solidarity, and belonging are rebuilt. Perhaps this is why, for her, gathering around the same table is one of the strongest practices that makes a sense of “being together” possible again.

Ö.B.: What kind of connection does being from Antakya create with the table and food culture for you? Has this connection changed after the earthquake?

K.B.: When I think about both my family and my surroundings in Antakya, the table and food have always been a unifying element. They bring people together. It feels less about the food itself and more about a state of togetherness.

When we look at family life, recipes are passed down from generation to generation. There are recipes that come from mothers, grandmothers, and even from their mothers before them. Beyond the food and its taste, Antakya tables represent a very different form of social life. For me, they carry the feeling of togetherness.

I became much more aware of this after the earthquake. You know, sometimes you only understand the value of something after losing it. Before the earthquake, I did not fully recognize how strong this connection was. But now, even when we come together for food at events or workshops after the earthquake, the meaning of those gatherings goes far beyond the meal itself. Those old Antakya tables, those long communal tables, are no longer just about “the happiness of my stomach.” They have become a very powerful force that brings people together.

Ö.B.: After the earthquake, did the destruction of some gastronomic places in Uzun Çarşı and surrounding areas affect your sense of belonging to Antakya?

K.B.: We are entering the third year, and what happened between the second and third years has actually made me feel more distant from the city.

The architecture and physical structure of the city have completely changed. When I go to Antakya now, I honestly no longer feel that feeling of “I am in Antakya, I am home.” Because I can no longer recognize the city itself. This feeling of alienation comes entirely from the transformation of the physical environment.

Ö.B.: Where do you think Antakya’s gastronomic memory lives today?

K.B.: It lives everywhere. I cannot point to one specific place.

My father used to run a place in the old streets of Antakya. Of course, it was destroyed, but we continued to exist as part of Antakya. People do not want that sense of dispersion. At the same time, many Antakya residents have been scattered to different places. Those without the means to relocate stayed in container settlements, while those who had the opportunity moved to nearby districts or other cities.

This culture continues in container settlements, community centers, and neighborhood spaces. At the same time, it lives on in restaurants, cafés, and workshops opened outside the city. Antakya is no longer being kept alive in a single place; it is being sustained everywhere.

Ö.B.: Do you think the temporary markets and shops established after the earthquake provide only commercial opportunities, or do they also play a role in rebuilding trust and mutual support among people?

K.B.: They are definitely not only commercial. In fact, the answer lies in that feeling of “being together”.

When I return to a shopkeeper I used to know, the place where we bought our tomato paste or olives, old memories come back. A feeling of “we are not alone” emerges. Yes, we were all scattered in different directions, and distance came between us, but in these spaces of interaction, we begin to feel that sense of togetherness again. It is much more than simply saying, “I will go there and shop.”

For example, my father’s restaurant was also destroyed. When he opened the new restaurant, his motivation was definitely not money; it was the idea of “bringing our people back here.” This is the feeling we need in order to heal right now. Although it may appear to be a commercial space, the motivation behind it is something much deeper than commerce.

Ö.B.: During the reconstruction process, do you think the spatial needs of gastronomic culture, such as markets and production areas, are being taken into sufficient consideration?

K.B.: Honestly, I do not see that happening. Maybe I am looking at it from a pessimistic perspective, but as we approach the third year, I do not think there has been enough planning.

It is possible, but it is very difficult to recreate that spirit without people coming together. For people to come together, the city’s reconstruction and housing projects first need to be completed. Those who migrated need to return. My family members are in Istanbul, Izmir… For them to come back, it is not enough to rebuild the marketplace. The healthcare system, hospitals, and schools also need to be established and functioning again.

Ö.B.: What kinds of projects are needed in the coming period to preserve Antakya’s gastronomic culture and accelerate the healing process?

K.B.: I do not believe that Antakya’s gastronomic culture disappeared during the earthquake. Everyone continues to keep that culture alive in their homes or wherever they have gone.

If you ask what we need, I would say that before gastronomic projects, we need Antakya to recover as a livable city.

Once all of this happens, when the dispersed people of Antakya return, the culture will naturally continue to protect itself. The biggest challenge right now is that everyone is scattered across different places and a central way of life has not yet been re-established.