Sezai Hazır, Chairman of Habitat and Vice Chairman of the Young Entrepreneurs Board of the Union of Chambers and Commodity Exchanges of Turkey, one of Turkey’s well-known civil society figures, passed away on May 12, 2024. Sezai Hazır, the Chairman of the Board of Habitat, a non-governmental organization that aims for sustainable development and produces social capacity building and social impact-oriented projects on the basis of strong partnerships, was a highly respected figure in Turkey’s civil society community and made great contributions to this field. He had trained many young people in the field of civil society and brought Habitat, one of the largest civil society organizations in Turkey, to our country.
The year is 1981. Country was under the effect of September 12 coup d’etat. Bülent Ersoy is thrown into Buca Prison for insulting the judiciary. Big trouble. Ersoy says, “I won’t go to the men’s ward”. Women, on the other hand, don’t want a man-turned-boy with them. A special ward is opened for Ms. Bülent next to politicians. The prison is full of inappropriate jokes. Gender politics is still years away. No one is holding back.
The ward supervisor for the politicians is a tall, handsome, dark-haired young man who was expelled from university. He takes care of himself even in prison conditions. He takes care of Ersoy. They become friends. Moreover, after she was released from prison, Bülent gave an interview to tabloid journalists who asked her, “What kind of men do you like?” and she replied, “I like dark, tall, chest hairy men with a loud voice.” Her ward mates realize who she means. What follows are dirty looks, bad male jokes and a funny story.
One is not judged by what one does in a certain period of time, but sometimes small stories carry the seeds of a big story. Not shirking responsibility even in the most difficult circumstances, not marginalizing anyone because of their identity and somehow managing to affect everyone who touches your life. Uncle Sezai’s big story. From the very beginning…
The year 1991. The September 12th coup d’etat period ends. Özal abolished Article 141-142. Many political prisoners were released with a discount on execution. He was 33 years old and had served 9 years in prison. An ex-prisoner without a diploma, without a profession, without a father, he sleeps in the living room of his brother’s house on a bed. He has never had his own house until now.
We are a political family. We have seen many politicians, but my uncle is different. For one thing, instead of telling stories of torture, interrogation and prison, he talks about his plans for the future that no one takes seriously. He wears colorful bandanas and shorts that expose his hairy legs. My high school friends, whom I introduce as “my uncle”, can’t place this burly, dark and decorated young hunk. There are those who advise him: “Get married, find a modest job, your record doesn’t allow for much anyway. Don’t get involved, live here.” My uncle does not listen.
We enter the new millennium. The year is 2000. My uncle is no longer a political prisoner. When Article 141-142 was abolished, all decisions related to it were canceled. His record is clean, he even got a passport. He went to Istanbul and completed his unfinished university degree. He works at some jobs. I am glad that he travels and has a job, but I am sad that he is alone. I don’t really understand what he does.
NGOs, youth, development are not things I know much about or care about. I feel like Turkey needs revolutionaries, not civil society activists. I am going to Ankara with my uncle. The conversation deepens as we talk about collective action and revolutionary attitude. The topic: “How should a life be lived?” After years, I hear a leftist reference from my uncle. He tells me Marx’s famous quote: “It is not enough to understand life, you have to transform it.” I am an excited leftist, but I know my place. I am not being a smartass to someone who has spent years in prison.
It’s 2018. My uncle, an ex-politician but longtime NGO guy, is coming to London. I have already gone to the dark side. I’m in finance. My uncle is going to make a deal for Facebook stations that will open in many regions later. We meet. Business is booming. He’s traveling around with his entourage. Some of them are from Istanbul, some of them are his friends and employees from all over the UK who heard he was coming. Everyone is gathered around him with real admiration, looking into his mouth.
I admire the distant and sincere relationship that my uncle, whom I have always seen in a family environment, establishes with those around him. I have been living in England for years. I have written a PhD thesis in English, but I am not as comfortable as my uncle. He, on the other hand, talks to everyone in his broken English, and he takes care of his own business. He gets the job done. Once again, he manages to be from wherever he goes.
The year is 2024. A meeting hall in Izmir. A coffin on the stage. People have come from all over. Family, state officials, mayors, deputies, business people. Next to them are hundreds of young people raised by my Uncle Sezai. Each from different worlds, different views, different classes. They tell their memories of my uncle. We see him off with a ceremony that starts at the cemevi and ends up at the mosque. As befits his life, in an incoherent but coherent way.
As his close friend Şengül Hanım, the President of the Foundation for the Evaluation of Women’s Work, says, “Rather than being an unhappy sidekick to the dreams of others, he lived as someone who dreamed and made people share his dreams.” And so he did. He knew how to take the rematch of his life, just as his beloved Galatasaray scored five goals in the rematch against Neuchatel, a team they had lost three-nil to. From a life in which he could have been an unhappy political refugee or, at best, a small provincial association member, he created one of the biggest NGOs in Turkey. He transformed both his own life and many lives. He will live on in the hearts of those who knew him with his joy for life, willpower and endless energy. Godspeed my uncle, we are proud of you.