Weltschau

I would like to share a little story regarding the life of my son, Appaz, today. My son is my heart, my soul, and my hope. As his mother, I and his sisters, Dilara and Leyla, stand united in our support for him and are prepared to confront any challenge that may arise due to our profound interconnection.

Appaz was a delightful child who brought pleasure to all of us at the present time. He was a good boy who always showed respect for his family and was very friendly and kind to others. Appaz never once made us feel sad; his early years spent with his sisters were enjoyable, and he enjoyed entertaining us and hosting his friends from the street over to our house. Regretfully, time passed by so swiftly, and my kids grew up so quickly. Thank you, God, for my amazing children and the priceless memories they have brought me.

Everything was going very smoothly. We used to rent an apartment in the Solominsky neighbourhood of the city centre. If there had never been a war, everything would have been better. My middle daughter Leyla got married six months prior to the war, and Appaz and I stayed in our home. Appaz was employed by an IT firm. He wanted very much to improve himself in this field that he loved most. He was full of ideas. The projects he dreamed of realising with originality and innovation were at all times thoughts that would benefit humanity and make life easier. I remember our conversations on weekend evenings… He would discuss upcoming innovations and opportunities that would improve people’s quality of life. He created new services, programmes, and websites that could make people’s lives easier. Appaz would never be lazy; he would never do a sloppy job; he would do his job with great care and finish what he started. We made the decision to temporarily relocate from Kiev to Lviv after the company closed after the war began. He continued working there when the company reopened, and he decided to volunteer online on weekends.

Our house in the Kherson region was evacuated. After the tenant vacated, Appaz paid the residence a visit. He made the decision to take advantage of the opportunity since the roads had opened. When the house was uninhabited, he took a risk to prevent the Russians from entering the house, and he under no circumstances thought that this road was so perilous.

I visited my daughter in Istanbul while she was awaiting the birth of my twin grandchildren, so I wasn’t with him at the time. I was planning to go back to Lviv, and Appaz and I spoke on the phone every day. My goal was to work at the new restaurant “Kırım Avlusu” alongside my girlfriend Lerane.

I lost contact with Appaz one day; I called and he did not answer. We tried to reach my son, my Appaz, for about 3 months. He was taken hostage by Russian security personnel in the Kherson region, close to the city of Genicesk. He was subsequently put in a detention facility in Akmescit, Crimea.

He was arrested without charge or explanation. This is how the FSB (Federal Security Service) works. It finds individuals and then determines which crime they are responsible for. He was consequently accused of providing financial support to the military battalion where his friend was stationed. An old friend of his requested a loan in order to cover personal expenses. He never anticipated receiving a seven-year prison sentence for the money he sent to his friend. I am at a loss for words to describe my emotions, behaviour, and standing when he vanished. I have no idea how I managed to endure this dreadful period. Because of my faith in God, I refrained from contemplating negative thoughts.

Appaz called me three months later and said, “They accused me, mother, of supporting terrorism.” Nevertheless, they are unable to substantiate it due to the fact that the money that I transferred was a debt. That debt must be returned to my account, yet I am not even permitted to provide proof. Mr. Refat, our attorney, was intrigued, but it was of no assistance. That is to say, the judges who lacked knowledge of justice failed to consider the most crucial aspect.” Because their initial objective was to secure my son’s imprisonment. The happiest day of my life, which I could compare to Appaz’s birth, was that evening when he was on the phone with me. I began crying with happiness at that point—thank God my darling son is still alive! Praise be to Allah.

God, I prayed that you would save my son and bring him back to me as a gift from you at his birth. As a young child, I grew up without a mother or father and did not see my grandfather. There are not numerous people in my life; the mere one is my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Zarife. I grew up in Crimea until I was 18. The only people who replaced my parents were my sister and my two older brothers. As he grew older, my son became my mother and father. I begged you not to take my only son away from me, and I cried endlessly.

Thank God my son is alive. He is currently in Vladimir Sentral prison, one of the most dreadful and perilous jails. Naturally, we hope that the war will end quickly. We hope to see the release of all of our political prisoners. This hope flows through Appaz’s life as well.

Appaz is the youngest of the prisoners. We all realise that injustice occurs to us all over again. I write a lot in my dream that my son will be freed. The assistants of President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan have received my letter. The President of Ukraine should execute a policy of prisoner exchange. When it was met with the Russian President in Sochi in September 2023, if the agreement had been concluded positively and if the prisoner exchange had taken place and Appaz was released, we would have embraced my son. However, all of the anticipations proved to be unfounded, and more than a year has passed since my letter to Erdoğan. I decided not to give up, and I hope new contracts will be signed in Turkey as soon as possible. Before we wait for the war to end, I hope that everything will be settled. To exchange Appaz, I ask for help from the President of Turkey, Erdoğan, that can affect the exchange; any other influence on Moscow is hard.

Our lawyer, Refat Yunus, visited Appaz the other day. I talked to him. Appaz should not spend his youth, the years when he should study and work, and the best years of his life in prison. My son should not be in that place; it is a place full of horrible murderers.

I ask everyone from the Crimean Tatar diaspora in any country in the world to help release Appaz. I ask them, with the assistance of Turkish embassies, with the assistance of President Erdogan, maybe with the assistance of the king of Saudi Arabia, to pen a collective letter to the President of Turkey or the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Turkey with an appeal for help from the diaspora to “include Appaz in the prisoner exchange.”

I am alone and am a woman. I am fighting alone, and at the very least, no one is available to offer advice. This is not a choice I can make on my own. In addition to all of this, Appaz’s father was also arrested; however, no details are known about him. I left those places before the war, because his father continued to live in the occupied lands. My relatives are afraid to talk on the phone because it is dangerous, and I don’t have any contact with that area. The local police have taken up residence in our home, so we no longer own it and are unable to get back. The new Russian authorities have taken our house, and I am currently a refugee. My life is subject to the laws of a foreign and distant country, and I live far from my relatives. I had to go far away because they gave me somewhere to sleep.

Even though I never give up on myself, I still genuinely need your assistance because there are moments when I am not sure of my own actions and if I am doing the right thing on my own. I require counsel and assistance from people who are experts in these fields, and simply put, I am a woman, and I do not have the will or strength to bear this burden. It is very difficult for me to smile, to hold on, to not give up, to not collapse, and to find a way out when I am completely alone, far from home, and especially when I am away from my daughters and relatives, despite my best efforts to stay upright. I at all times want to hear someone’s good advice and support. My countless plans and hopes are ultimately dashed as I look for new tactics and ways to free my son every day and every hour. There always seems to be a way out at the conclusion of my new meetings, conversations, and discussions. All of these efforts, though, were in vain, as my son remains in custody. Like my son Appaz, a lot of people are going through a really tough moment. I ask you, my dear friends, if there are people who have genuine means to help with the Appaz exchange, please tell me. I beg you to write, and perhaps I can find a way out with you to the right people to save my Appaz from jail.

My one and only is him. He is the best, brightest, and purest person in the world, and not just because he is my son, but because he is honest. Appaz is an exceptionally good child; his mother and his family consider him their most valuable possession. It is easy for anyone with a son or child to relate to me.

Appaz Kurtamet, a youthful Crimean Tatar Turk, was born in the Ukrainian city of Genicesk (Novoalekseevka), situated in the Kherson region. After all communications with Appaz ceased on July 23, 2022, he ceased to be heard from. The mother of Appaz was informed by an anonymous phone call the following day that “Appaz had been arrested.” Three months passed without Appaz’s lawyers being able to contact him, and nobody was aware of his whereabouts or the reason for his arrest. Appaz was convicted on false charges and sent to seven years in prison in April 2023. Now Appaz Kurtamet is in jail in the city of Vladimir, 1,928 kilometres away from Crimea.