The sun blazed down on Kizilkecili village in Canakkale, a Turkish city on the Southern shores. A technician started to put signs on agricultural fields, trees, and bushes for an access road to a new wind energy project early in the morning. 10 turbines, 40 MW of electricity per year, and five employees are the main figures for that project. Around 10 o’clock an excavator started to dig the ground. There was something wrong though. There was a big tree and its branches home to a chorus of sparrows.
Inside, the operator kicked back, sipping on a Coke, oblivious to the onlookers outside. “Look at him,” one villager scoffed. “Comfortable in there while that tree dies.” “Yeah, well, we need the electricity. It’s getting hotter each year!” another added, shaking his head. As the machine’s claw tore into the bark, the sparrows took flight, their frantic chirps echoing the despair rising in the hearts of those witnessing this habitat destruction. “What will we do without these trees?” one woman cried. But the excavator did not stop, the tree groaning as its roots were uprooted, the sparrows now mere shadows against the blue sky, their eggs lost to an indifferent world.
The wooden benches in the village hall creaked under the weight of anxious bodies. A flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead as villagers filed in, their murmurs quickly rising into a cacophony of concern.
“Did you hear about the meeting?” a woman whispered, clutching her shawl tightly. “Yeah, they’re pushing for those wind turbines,” another replied, shaking her head. “What about our trees?” At the front, the village leader cleared his throat, his voice steady yet strained. “Thank you all for coming.
I informed all men about this new wind energy project.” A man in the back jumped up, his face flushed. “What about the old oak and our fields? These were home to so many birds! Are we just going to let it be destroyed?” “Exactly!” a voice piped up from the side. “Those sparrows depend on it. We can’t just sacrifice our nature for power!”
The leader raised his hands for silence. “I understand your concerns, but this project will bring jobs and clean energy. We need to think about the future!” “Future?” a woman scoffed, her voice trembling with anger. “What kind of future is it if our children don’t have trees? Wind turbines kill bees, increase suicide rates, decrease rainfall.”
The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. One by one, the villagers exchanged glances, their unease palpable. “We need answers!” someone shouted, breaking the tension. “Yeah! This isn’t just about electricity!” another added, their voices rising in a chorus of dissent. As the meeting wore on, the stakes became clear. The villagers stood united, their love for the land outweighing the promises of progress.
The sun dipped low in the Kizilkecili sky, casting long shadows over the village square, where the scent of grilled corn mingled with the lingering dust of the day late that year. Laughter echoed as children chased each other near the fountain, but the jovial atmosphere shattered with the blaring of brakes. “What’s happening?” a woman asked, her eyes wide as she turned towards the commotion.
“An accident,” a man replied, jaw tightening. “Down at the junction of the main road and the earth road.” They rushed to the scene, where a crowd had gathered. The sight was grim; the twisted metal of a motorbike lay crumpled against a staff service, the air thick with tension and sorrow. Villagers murmured in disbelief, faces pale under the fading light.
“Is it true?” someone whispered. “Did it happen?” A voice broke through the noise, trembling. “It was Kerim. I saw him… he didn’t make it.”
The Leader pushed through the throng, his face grave. “Let’s keep the area clear. Emergency services are on their way.” “Why can’t they fix that road?” a man yelled, fists clenched. “It’s dangerous! Someone had to die for them to pay attention?”
As the sirens neared, a heavy silence settled. The laughter of the children felt distant. The villagers stood together, united in grief, their hearts aching for a man who had given so much to their community, now taken too soon.
One week later, after spending a week in critical care, Kerim passed away. The driver of the service vehicle ended up in jail.
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Prof. Dr Hasan Goksel Ozdilek is an environmental engineering professor at Canakkale Onsekiz Mart University, Turkey. He got his M.S. in Environmental Engineering in 1998 from NMSU, USA, and his Ph.D. in Civil Engineering in 2002 from WPI, USA. He has been a resident of Kizilkecili village for the past 11 years.
