Turkan was only an 18-month old when they shot her. She didn’t know what is the Turkish or Bulgarian, what is nationality or that to love your motherland. Her world was still as small as she was. She knew only her name. When someone told her Turkan she was immediately coming to him and looking at happily. She could say only the words mummy and daddy. And her life was so short that she couldn’t learn more.In June 1984 (Bulgaria) the Politburo voted a policy named “For the further unification and inclusion of Bulgarian Turks into the cause of socialism and the policies of the Bulgarian Communist Party". The plan was to re-name all Islamic minorities with Slavic names, ban the wearing of distinctive Turkish clothing, to forbid the use of the Turkish language and close down the mosques. The assimilation campaign was sold to the ethnic Bulgarian majority as an attempt for national “revival” and was called by the authorities the “The Revival Process”. When the Turkish minority refused to submit to the aims of the assimilation campaign. The regime found itself in a position where they had to use violence.
On 25th December 1984 Bulgarian police and security forces fired the first shots against the Turkish community in the village of Mlechino. While Mlechino was held under siege by Bulgarian security forces some 200 Turkish villagers from the smaller nearby towns attempted to break the siege and protest for the return of their passports and reinstatement of their Muslim names.At same time near to the town of Benkovski, some 3,000 Turkish protesters from neighbour smaller villages confronted Bulgarian security forces and demanded to have their original identification papers back. The Bulgarian security forces managed to disperse the crowd claiming that they have no idea where their identification papers were and urged them to go back to their villages and inquire from the local mayors. The large police presence was explained with undergoing security forces “exercise maneuvers”. After returning to their towns and discovering that the local municipality didn't have their passports and ID documentation the crowd headed back, this time more decisively, towards the town of Benkovski.
26th of December 1984 Turkan’s family also prepared to go to the protest. The little baby understood that her parents go somewhere and ran after her mother and take mother’s hand. She smiled and said boots - boots. Her mother told her that she can buy red boots. Turkan thought that they go to a walk. So all family went to the protest place. Turkan was on her mother’s back. All of villigers were there already and The Bulgarian police and security forces,too. They were prepared and waited with some 500-armed men in positions. When the crowd of 2,000 Turkish villagers approached the Bulgarian security they shouted Bulgarian citizens are equal under the laws of the People's Republic of Bulgaria”So began the confrontation between the ethnic Turkish population and the Bulgarian police. They kicked at each other. Turkan’s father went to help his friends then some men of the police began to kick and fight him. Turkan’s mother as saw her husband she ran and tried to help him. Of course, Turkan was still on mother’s back. At this moment the police opened fire with an automatic weapon. Someone began to shout “Blood, Blood” and pointed at Turkan’s mother. She looked at herself then took her daughter on hands. Turkan had shot at her head. Her body was in blood. The enemy had aimed at the smallest Protestant.The victim of that confrontation was an innocent child. The captured demonstrators were faced down on the snow for two hours and blasted with cold water coming from the fire fighting trucks.So short was the life of Turkan. She went from this world without to take the smell of the flowers, without to fell the drops of the rain she couldn’t see enough of her mother.Unfortunately, it's a sad story but the real history .We can't take the time back but we have to take warning by our mistakes. Don’t forget Turkan and don’t let to forget her . No more other innocent victims.
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