Homeless Turks Making Do
Like scores of other quake victims Kadriye Kocyigit stood patiently in line Sunday in the hot sun for nearly two hours, waiting for a handout of food from the back of a truck.
As she neared the front, tempers flared, jostling increased and supplies were almost gone. But she stayed calm, "My sister came from Ankara to help me, and she's a psychologist," Kocyigit explained. "She's helping me handle this."
Five days after Turkey's huge earthquake, authorities have begun to address the needs of hundreds of thousands of people forced from their homes. Tent cities are popping up in hard-hit areas as volunteers and donations of food, water and other supplies are pouring in from all over the world.
But getting the aid to the people who need it most is turning out to be a logistical nightmare. Complaints about uneven distribution and people grabbing what they can -- whether they need it or not -- are mounting.
"Nothing's open, so this is the only place you can get food," said Emrullah Ozturk as he watched police and soldiers try to control the mayhem at the front of the supply truck. "The organization here is not good at all. Some people get too much, others not enough."
The trucks, handing out everything from butane camp stoves and diapers to tampons and soap, were parked at the entrance to Ataturk Central Research Institute for Agriculture and Horticulture. It's a complex of low-slung buildings and greenhouses with a botanical garden in front.
About 1,300 tents with the logo of Turkey's Red Crescent society were set up Saturday on the manicured grounds among the trees and flowers. But there were only 10 portable toilets for 5,000 people.
Some people setting up Sunday had lost everything, like the Kanber family led by 84-year-old Ali, bone-thin and squinting behind thick glasses.
"I've seen bad things in my life, but never as bad as this," he said, sitting in the shade on a plastic chair while his two sons struggled to set up a tent.
Their house didn't collapse, but lurched to one side. They ran out as soon as the earth stopped shaking, and now it's too dangerous to go back. "We don't have anything left," Kanber said. "We're waiting for help from the government. If they tell us to wait 15 days or two months, we'll wait."
Some people have brought mattresses, furniture and portable stereos to make the tents more like home. A few have draped ropes between tents to hang laundry, giving the camp a sense of permanence.
When Kadriye Kocyigit, and her sister finally reached the supply truck, after waiting for hours, they ended up with three packs of black olives, a bag of lentils and a bag of sugar.
"There was nothing else left," she said, struggling to maintain her composure.
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