The earthquakes in Turkey and Syria kill tens of thousands. People are still holding out in front of the rubble - hoping to find their loved ones after all. So that they can at least bury her.
Metin Yalman wants to move mountains for his son. Actually just a mountain - the one made of rubble under which his son has been buried for a week. Metin's hands are black with dirt. Again and again he used it to dig for his seed. Hopeless. The 25-year-old lies under the rubble of what used to be a nine-storey building in the center of the Turkish city of Antakya near the border with Syria.
Samet lived on the first floor. Metin says no one came to help find his only son. He has been waiting in front of the building for six days now. During the first few days, Japanese engineers using special equipment heard three heartbeats under the rubble. Metin has placed a couch from the ruins in front of the residential building and wants to stay - until they get Samet out.
The dead lie buried under tons of rubble. The psychological burden on the survivors is immeasurable. Last Monday's earthquake left deep scars. More than 33,000 people have been officially confirmed as dead in Turkey and Syria. It is very likely that there will be many more.
The quake a week ago in the Turkish-Syrian border area caused immeasurable suffering. Thousands of families have been torn apart, cities leveled, people traumatized for life.
All over Antakya, people have set up camps in front of the rubble where they suspect their relatives are. 65-year-old Halime Koyuncu is standing in front of a mountain that no longer resembles a house. Here she is waiting for her two grandchildren, five-year-old twins, to be rescued. A few meters further on, a woman is sitting, holding a plush mouse in her hand. More than this cuddly toy from her two-year-old grandson has not yet been found. Together with her family, she hopes for some news from the rubble. Tens of thousands of people in the affected regions feel the same way.
Many here have lost hope of seeing grandchildren, sons, daughters or life partners again. But they want certainty and want to be able to say goodbye. "And if I can find just one of my son's little fingers and bury it," says Metin. But so far there is no search for his son.
A few meters further, the dog Roxy is on the trail of possible survivors at a mountain of rubble. The seven-year-old Labrador is part of a team of rescuers from Varanasi, India. Thanks to the dog, nine people have been rescued alive so far, says dog handler Pawan Kumar. It indicates sound and thus the direction in which it suspects people.
Many rescuers have been in action for days. A young firefighter from Istanbul says he hasn't slept in 30 hours. The burden is on them to know that every minute of sleep can mean the death of a buried person. He heard a voice, a woman, said to be a 60-year-old professor. They've been trying to get close to her for hours.
"As soon as you hear voices, the rescue process slows down tremendously," says doctor Thomas Geiner. "That's the problem." Not only in the city of Antakya are so many buried. Thousands are believed to be under the rubble in Turkey and Syria.
500 meters further. Here, too, jackhammers are hammering through concrete slabs with a deafening noise. But then it becomes dead quiet. "Don't move, that's an order." If the gauges go off, it could mean survivors. This time they hear nothing.
"Ceset", calls a helper from the rubble - "corpse". Those waiting stand up, perhaps it is their relatives who will be found. Shortly thereafter, soldiers and disaster relief workers place a black sack containing a corpse in a green zinc coffin. The hearse is ready.
A two-hour drive away, in the town of Kahramanmaras, a woman yells, "My daughter!" She sags as people in red jackets carry a black bag to the hearse. Two helpers hold her and cry with her. In Antakya and Kahramanmaras, a number of heavy machines are in use day and night. But given the size of the area, it is almost impossible to help everyone, says earthquake expert Geiner. Metin Yalman wants to hold out in front of the ruins until he can bury his son.
