Identity, Nationalism, and Cultural Heritage Under Siege Balkan Studies Library

Identity, Nationalism, and Cultural Heritage under Siege Balkan Studies Library

Editor-in-Chief

Zoran Milutinović (University College London)

Editorial Board Gordon N. Bardos (Columbia University) Alex Drace-Francis (University of Amsterdam) Jasna Dragović-Soso (Goldsmiths, University of London) Christian Voss, (Humboldt University, Berlin)

Advisory Board Marie-Janine Calic (University of Munich) Lenard J. Cohen (Simon Fraser University Radmila Gorup (Columbia University) Robert M. Hayden (University of Pittsburgh) Robert Hodel (Hamburg University) Anna Krasteva (New Bulgarian University) Galin Tihanov (Queen Mary, University of London) Maria Todorova (University of Illinois) Andrew Wachtel (Northwestern University)

VOLUME 14

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bsl Identity, Nationalism, and Cultural Heritage under Siege

Five Narratives of Pomak Heritage—From Forced Renaming to Weddings

Fatme Myuhtar-May

LEIDEN | BOSTON Cover illustration: Pomak bride in traditional attire. Ribnovo, Rhodope Mountains, Bulgaria. Photo courtesy Kimile Ulanova of Ribnovo.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Myuhtar-May, Fatme. Cultural heritage under siege : five narratives of Pomak heritage : from forced renaming to weddings / by Fatme Myuhtar-May. pages cm. — (Balkan studies library, ISSN 1877-6272 ; volume 14) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-27207-1 (hardback : acid-free paper) — ISBN 978-90-04-27208-8 (e-book) 1. Pomaks—Bulgaria—Social conditions. 2. Pomaks—Bulgaria—Social life and customs. 3. Pomaks— Bulgaria—Case studies. 4. Pomaks—Bulgaria—Biography. 5. Culture conflict—Bulgaria. 6. Culture conflict—Rhodope Mountains Region. 7. Bulgaria—Ethnic relations. 8. Rhodope Mountains Region— Ethnic relations. I. Title.

DR64.2.P66M98 2014 305.6’970499—dc23 2014006975

This publication has been typeset in the multilingual ‘Brill’ typeface. With over 5,100 characters covering Latin, ipa, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the humanities. For more information, please see brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 1877-6272 isbn 978 90 04 27207 1 (hardback) isbn 978 90 04 27208 8 (e-book)

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This book is printed on acid-free paper. Contents

Acknowledgements viii List of Tables and Figures ix

1 Heritage of Pluralism or Having Cultural Agency: An Introduction 1 Making Sense of the Past 1 Having Cultural Agency 4 The Role of Heritage Brokers 9 Heritage as Identity 14 1 Heritage as Vernacular (Dissenting) Identity 15 2 Heritage as National (Dominant) Identity 20 Five Case Studies 23 In Conclusion 26 2 Nationalism and Violence: The Case of Pomak Christianization (Pokrŭstvane) in Bulgaria, 1912–1913 32 The Nationalism Premise 33 The Pomaks 40 War and Pokrŭstvane (Conversion) in 1912–1913 47 1 The Balkan Wars 48 2 The Pokrŭstvane 51 2.1 The Killings in Oral History 64 2.2 The Killings Documented 71 2.3 Humanity and Survival Along the Way 75 2.4 The Pokrŭstvane of Muslim Prisoners of War (POWs) 82 2.5 The Tide is Turning 85 3 War and Pokrŭstvane No More 91 Conclusion 93 3 The Vŭzroditelen Protses: Identity Crisis and the Forced Renaming of the Pomaks (1944–1989) 96 Policy and Ideology of the Vŭzhroditelen Protses 96 Bringing about Identity Crisis 104 From Pokrŭstvane to Vŭzhroditelen Protses 110 1 The Rebirth of Organization Rodina 110 2 Mission: “Revival” 120 Turmoil in the (Western) Rhodopes 126 Economic Opportunities in the Vŭzhroditelen Protses 131 vi contents

Conclusion 136 1 External Pressure, Internal Turmoil, and the “Big Excursion” 136 2 The End Is Near or Is It? 138 3 Implications for Pomak Heritage 142 4 A Pomak Life of Dissent Amidst Cultural Oppression in Communist Bulgaria 144 Meeting Ramadan 144 Ramadan’s Vŭzhroditelen-Protses Ordeal 145 Trouble in Kornitsa 148 Trouble in Exile 154 Bloody Revival in the Rhodopes 156 Prison Tribulations 161 1 Arrest, Detention, and Trial 161 2 Tortured Prisoner 164 3 Release and Re-imprisonment 168 “Take the Passport or Die” 171 Conclusion 172 5 The Ribnovo Wedding: A Pomak Tradition 175 Introduction 175 Ribnovo: Place and People 178 Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo 181 The Cheiz 199 The Essence of the Ribnovo Wedding 201 Marriage: “The Key Turning Point in . . . Adult Life” 203 Asserting Identity through Custom 208 6 Preserving Historical Heritage: The Case of Salih Ağa of Paşmaklı, the Pomak Governor of the Ahı Çelebi Kaza of the Ottoman Empire (1798–1838) 214 Finding Salih Ağa 215 Salih Ağa and His Time 219 Who Wrote about Salih Ağa 223 Salih’s Family Tree 228 Salih, the Family Man 230 1 Mustafa Adzhi Ağa 230 2 Salihağovitsa (the Wife of Salih Ağa) 236 Salih, the Public Man 240 The Death of Salih Ağa 242 Conclusion: Salih Ağa’s Heritage 248 contents vii

Appendices 2.1 Report of Pazardzhik Activists for Pomak Conversion to Archbishop Maxim 252 2.2 Excerpts from the Carnegie Report on the Balkan Wars, 1914 255 3.1A Applications for Emigration Submitted by Pomaks 257 3.1B Number of Passports Issued to Pomaks 258 3.1C Statistics on Pomak Immigration 259 3.2 Statistics on Zagrazhden Municipality 260 6.1 Ballad about the Killing of Salih Ağa 267

Bibliography 270 Index 275 Acknowledgements

In life, one often needs good guidance and sincere encouragement. I am fortunate to have generously received both from Dr. Brady Banta, Dr. Clyde Milner, Dr. Carol O’Connor, Dr. Erik Gilbert, and Terry Thomas. A number of people and institutions deserve special recognition, including Ivan Terziev, Fikriye Topova, the Rahim family of Istanbul, Mehmed Boyukli, Kimile Ulanova, Feim “Foxi” Osmanov, Kŭdrie and Feim Hatip, the “Safet” Studio, Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Smolyan, lostbulgaria.com, Ramadan Runtov- Kurucu, Ismail Byalkov, Havva and Mehmed Cesur, Melike Belinska, Mehmed Shehov, Mehmed Dorsunski, my colleagues and friends at the Bulgarian Helsinki Committee (especially Dr. Krassimir Kanev), and many others. My sincerest gratitude also goes to Balkan Studies Library’s editor-in-chief Professor Zoran Milutinovic, Brill’s Slavic Studies editors Ivo Romein and Arjan van Dijk, and the two anonymous referees, whose comments and suggestions greatly improved this work. I am forever indebted to my parents, Sanye and Mehmed Myuhtar, my husband, Michael, and my in-laws, Joe and Carolyn May, for everything they have done for and meant to me. List of Tables and Figures

Table caption 2-1 Pomak Population within the Provinces of Thrace and Macedonia at the Time of the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913 52 3-1 Number of Pomaks with Censored Attire and Changed Names by Villages and Towns 115

Figure caption 2-1 Map of the Rhodope Mountains in Bulgaria 56 2-2 Pokrŭstvane in the Village of Devin, 1912–1913 61 2-3 Pokrŭstvane in the Village of Banya, 1912–1913 62 2-4 A Pokrŭstvane Wedding 63 2-5 A Commemorative Water Fountain in Vŭlkossel 67 2-6 A Commemorative Marble Plaque Next to the Fountain 68 3-1 Broken Tombstones from the Old Cemetery in Vŭlkossel 103 3-2 Broken Tombstones from the Old Cemetery in Vŭlkossel 104 4-1 Ramadan Runtov 145 4-2 Ramadan with His Family, circa 1959–1960 152 4-3 A Commemorative Monument in the Village of Kornitsa 158 4-4 At Ismail’s 160 5-1 Ribnovo 179 5-2 Kŭdrie and Feim Hatip from Ribnovo as Bride and Groom in February 2005 182 5-3 A Happy Bride 182 5-4 Young Women Hold Gifts at Kŭdrie and Feim’s Wedding 183 5-5 The Wedding Begins 184 5-6 Live Music 185 5-7 Kŭdrie’s Father Lifts the Bayrak with One Hand and Drops a Bill to the Bearer with the Other 186 5-8 Kŭdrie’s Mother and Father Carefully Assist Her Out on the Way to Her New Life as a Wife 187 5-9 Kŭdrie Wearing Full Bridal Make-up 188 5-10 A Ribnovo Bride Fully Clad in the Traditional Way 190 5-11 Sanie and Mehmed Myuhtar 193 5-12 Wedding of Fatme Aguleva of Kornitsa, Western Rhodopes, 1967 194 5-13 Wedding of Atie Hadzhieva of Vŭlkossel, 1971 194 5-14 Wedding of Atidzhe and Mustafa Chavdarov of Vŭlkossel, 1972 195 5-15 Wedding of Sadbera and Izir Chavdarov of Vŭlkossel, 1968 196 x list of tables and figures

5-16 Wedding of Nadzhibe and Natŭk Dermendzhiev of Vŭlkossel, Early 1970s 197 5-17 Cheiz Display 200 6-1 The Konak of Deli-Ali Bey in Smolyan 217 6-2 Melike Belinska 218 6-3 The Konak of Salih Ağa in Paşmaklı, circa 1916 227 6-4 Family Tree 231 6-5a–b Salih Ağa’s Seal 232 6-6 Scene from the Play Salih Ağa 240 6-7 Scene from the Play Salih Ağa 241 6-8 The Sycamore in Smolyan 243 CHAPTER 1 Heritage of Pluralism or Having Cultural Agency: An Introduction

Making Sense of the Past

I grew up in the Western Rhodopes during the 1980s, the last decade of communist rule in Bulgaria. One of my fondest memories from these years is my father’s telling stories by the flickering candlelight and the gentle crackling of the fire in the woodstove of my childhood home. His storytelling usually took place in the fall and winter, when the busy tobacco-harvesting season had ended and before the new planting season had begun. In those days, I remember, power outages were a common occurrence either caused by severe weather or purposely scheduled to save on electricity, a necessary relief measure for the ailing communist economy. As often as I turn back to these cherished memories, however, one realization strikes me all over again. As much as I loved listening to these tales from the local past, they also confused me a great deal. On a number of occasions my father would talk about “the burning of the village” and “the fleeing of the people,” phrases that terrified my young mind. “What burning?”—I would ask—“What fleeing? Who was fleeing from whom? Why the burning? When did it happen?” Even though I was just a child, my father would carefully point out that what he recounted were not mere stories, but the memories of people who had been long gone by the time I was ten-year old or so. While listening to my father’s narratives, I vividly remember thinking: “But if something so frightening as burning and fleeing happened right here—in my village and the neighboring communities, how come I never heard anything about it in school, from textbooks, television, radio, or newspapers! Why nobody talks about it, except, my father?” My father’s inquisitive mind as a young boy drove him to pose questions about the past to his grandfather, to elderly neighbors and relatives, and to anybody who would care to tell him a story. During the 1960s, when young Mehmed was conducting his impromptu oral history research, elderly people were still the foremost repository of knowledge about the local past. On one occasion, he heard an anecdote about “the corrupted” “Barzev hodzha”1 that went as follows: When Vŭlkossel (my village) was burning, people fled

1 Muslim religious teacher who, in those days, commanded much respect in the community.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��4 | doi 10.1163/9789004272088_002 2 chapter 1 southward—toward Greece now, from where they were passing into present- day Turkey. As they were abandoning the village in large numbers, the local hodzha implored them: “Hear me out, people! The cornfields are heavy with bread. Are you not going to harvest it? Are you leaving everything behind?” With heavy hearts, these refugees looked back. They saw their ripened crops, cast a glance at their empty homes, and faltered. Consequently, many returned to Vŭlkossel as the will to leave abandoned them. “Now,” my father would add, “this Barzev hodzha was a collaborator and he was directed by the authorities to stop the people. They knew that he was hodzha in the village and people would listen to him.” This was the story in a nutshell. Plain enough! But it was perplexing to me. “Who were these authorities? Why was the population fleeing? When did it all happen?” My questions required answers. I needed additional information to make sense of the puzzle. The people whom I asked provided it to the best of their knowledge, obviously not quite comprehending my burning desire to know. After all, I was just a child supposed to occupy her time playing with other kids, not to ask impossible questions. “The kaurs [Christians] burned the village. People fled from them. The year was 1912th.” These answers might have been sufficient for someone with contextual knowledge or a lifetime of experience to fit the pieces together, but not for me—a child, growing up in the 1980s, amid the information blackout of the “Turkish” vŭzhroditelen protses2 (literally translated as revival process or rebirth).3 What frustrated me above all in those days, however, was not my own inability to make sense of the bits and pieces, but that the village adults—including my father—could not make them com- prehensible to me. It was somewhat distressing to think that the collectivity of grown-ups either did not care to know or genuinely lacked the essential foundation of historical knowledge to have a coherent picture of the past. Sadly, it was both. What many people kept, though, were transmitted oral memories. But, to me, these were so removed from a clear timeline or factual certainty that the whole situation gave an impression of relatively recent events (as I

2 The forced name changing against the ethnic Turks was just taking place in 1984–1985 and it was accompanied by an active disinformation campaign, not only censoring literature, but also re-writing history to deny the existence of an ethnic Turkish minority in Bulgaria. For more information, see Ali Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria (New York: Routledge, 1997), passim. See also chapters three and four of this book. 3 Revival process or rebirth is the literal English translation from Bulgarian of the phrase “възродителен процес” that has become the accepted academic reference to the forced renaming of Muslims in Bulgaria by the communist regime in the 1970s and 1980s. The term revival process or rebirth herein is strictly used in the above sense, without direct relevance to the standard usage of the words “revival” and “process.” Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 3 would find out), not as dependable, tangible, accurate history, but as distant, fantastical, obscure folktale. Only years later, when immersing in an academic research, was I able to get the full picture of the stories my father had recounted. The one about the “corrupted Barzev hodzha” in particular stuck in my mind partly because the image of the ripened cornfields, which had broken people’s resolve to depart, following the collapse of Ottoman rule in the area, was so vivid in my mind. The story dates back to the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913, which chapter two describes in detail. The Christianization of the Pomaks began in late September of 1912, precisely when the populations of Vŭlkossel, and the neighboring villages, were trying to escape from the marauding Christian bands that roamed the Rhodope Mountains, pillaging and slaughtering at will.4 Fearing that the fleeing of Muslims would leave a depopulated border region behind,5 the new Bulgarian authorities tried to contain the lawlessness of the civilian bands and to curtail the exodus by enlisting the cooperation of Pomak individuals such as the Barzev hodzha. While it is unclear whether the hodzha was bribed, threatened, or both to collaborate, he certainly knew how to manipulate people’s deepest emotions in order to make them stay. Those who had originally fled the advancing Bulgarian forces, leaving all their earthly possessions behind, were persuaded to look back at the abandoned cornfields and their hearts wavered at the sight of the gently rolling hills around them. Truly, what mad- ness possessed them to flee? Where were they going anyway? Could they find another place to call home? Thus overwhelmed by emotions, the majority of refugees made their way back to Vŭlkossel (and to villages across the Rhodopes) to suffer the religious conversion of 1912–1913, and to witness the killing of the village elders by Bulgarian bands for refusing to renounce their religion.6 Indeed, as my father had said, the burning of the village, the “corrupted hodzha,” and the killing of people in Vŭlkossel were not some made-up tales. They were remembered experiences, originating in the pokrŭstvane of 1912– 1913, fragmented by decades of relentless cultural assimilation, and surviving as scattered oral narratives into the present. More importantly, however, these experiences form an integral part of a body of historical memory and cultural tradition, preserved and practiced by the Slavic (Bulgarian)-speaking Muslims of the Rhodopes, which constitutes Pomak heritage. In the sense that Pomakness, as distinct heritage, has been fractured beyond cohesiveness, there

4 See chapter two for details. 5 The border between Bulgaria and Greece cuts across the length of the Rhodopes, with the larger portion of the mountain being on the Bulgarian side of the line. 6 See chapter two. 4 chapter 1 is an enormous need at present to study and preserve the surviving remnants. Moreover, heritage scholars like me—a cultural insider at that—carry the professional and moral obligation to piece the fragments together and, so far as possible, to create a more complete conception of Pomak cultural identity. Indeed, in addition to making sense of my own past, the very purpose of this book is to promote and preserve vital narratives of the Pomak heritage. In fact, uncovering my personal identity is much the same as uncovering Pomakness, because the name Pomak is the most immediate and accurate label that describes me, along with a collectivity of others, as carriers of Pomak cultural agency.

Having Cultural Agency

The premise of cultural agency bestows the capacity to every member of a given community to freely profess, organize, alter, or reject any cultural identity, or elements of it, collectively possessed (or claimed) by that community in a manner that is physically non-injurious to others. A cultural agent could, thus, be a person who freely identifies as Pomak, works toward the promotion and preservation of what he or she perceives to be Pomak heritage, without forcing others to subscribe to his or her viewpoint. Therefore, to have cultural agency requires, on one hand, that one has the independent capacity to shape one’s own and one’s community’s cultural identity, while being able to resist both internal and external pressure to conform to views one does not necessarily share. Cultural agency, on the other hand, prevents one from imposing an identity on others who disagree with that identity or position. In the context of cultural agency then, persons and communities are—or should be—free to promote cultural narratives of their own making without physically harming others or being intolerant of them. An anonymous reviewer of an earlier version of this work spoke of its thesis as an “activist” approach to heritage, and this was correct. Yet, is there a place for “activism” in an academic setting? That is, is it permissible to take an unequivocal stand in favor of one narrative, while still making a legitimate claim to scholarly objectivity? A concrete example of activism in this sense would be to argue that the Pomaks have the right to promote a heritage of their own making, no matter how problematic that may be for the established national narrative. Clearly, my answer in this particular case is affirmative for it cannot be otherwise. Where there are no imminent and compelling grounds to deprive a whole collectivity of people of deciding who they are—somebody’s dislike for a heritage is neither an imminent, nor a compelling ground—the Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 5 premise of cultural agency and activism is (or should be) completely legitimate. Cultural agency then is one’s ability to interpret and promote one’s heritage without the fear of repercussions and/or the power to impose one’s views on others. The function of cultural activism belongs not only to individuals, but also to communities or groups. A community needs its heritage because it is a vital source of identity and dignity for the people comprising it. This approach to agency is also consistent with the definition of heritage contained in UNESCO’s Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage (CSICH). The convention defines intangible heritage as “the practices, representations, expressions, knowledge, skills—as well as the instruments, objects, art[i]facts and cultural spaces associated therewith—that communities, groups and, in some cases, individuals recognize as part of their cultural heritage. This intangible cultural heritage, transmitted from generation to generation, is constantly recreated by communities and groups in response to their environment, their interaction with nature and their history, and provides them with a sense of identity and continuity, thus promoting respect for cultural diversity and human creativity [emphasis added].” In concluding its definition, the convention qualifies that its provisions apply only to such intangible cultural heritage that “is compatible with existing international human rights instruments, as well as with the requirements of mutual respect among communities, groups and individuals, and of sustainable development.”7 Clearly, this definition treats heritage as a source of identity and continuity for communities, groups, and even individuals, and, as such, it must be acknowledged and protected in a manner of “promoting respect for cultural diversity and human creativity.” This definition of intangible cultural heritage is fully compatible with the idea of heritage activism or cultural agency. Communities, groups, or individual members of a community or group, are entitled to promote and implement such “practices, representations, expressions, knowledge, skills—as well as the instruments, objects, art[i]facts and cultural spaces associated therewith,” which foster “mutual respect among communities, groups and individuals.” It is difficult to see how the recognition of Pomak heritage could truly harm mutual respect and diversity when it is promoted in the above described manner of cultural agency. Nor does the convention’s definition preclude the proposed approach of cultural agency. On the contrary, having a cultural agency is paramount in the case of culturally

7 UNESCO, Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage, November 2003. Available at http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/index.php?lg=en&pg=00006. Last accessed March 27, 2013. 6 chapter 1 disposed communities, whose very identity is at stake as a result of historical fragmentation of their heritage. The lack of agency in influencing the public discourse to the effect of preserving one’s heritage is particularly glaring in the Pomak case. An author like Mary Neuburger, one of the relatively few as yet Western scholars to have broached the Pomak topic in some detail, clearly observes the problem of agency. Even though she discusses the issue from a different angle—namely, in the context of “Bulgarian Socialism” and the Muslim resistance to the vŭzhroditelen protses in the same period—Neuburger correctly designates the lack of agency as being a key problem. “Bulgarian and Muslim submission to the ‘powers that be,’ ” she writes, “dominates both the literature on Socialist Bulgaria and that on Muslim minorities under Bulgarian Socialism. Neither group is seen as having agency, an assumption I intend to challenge [emphasis added].”8 In fact, the whole ideology of the Muslim-directed assimilatory policies of the communist regime in Bulgaria from the 1960s to the mid-1980s, particularly in regard to the Pomaks, was built upon assumptions of non-agency. Thus, in the formal literature of the communist period, the forced renaming of the Pomaks is customarily proclaimed to be “voluntary” and “spontaneous,” without so much as hinting about the existence of widespread Muslim resistance to it (except in documents that were meant to remain “strictly confidential”), as Neuburger aptly observes. To this day, the dominant national narrative describes the Pomaks as descendants of converted Bulgarian Christians matter-of-factly, a priori denying them the opportunity to speak for themselves. Because of this past and present history of non-agency, writing about the Pomaks, particularly in regard to agency, must be held to a more rigorous academic scrutiny. Unlike Mary Neuburger, another Western scholar, Kristen Ghodsee, neglects to detect the problem of Pomak non-agency within the dominant cultural narrative. More importantly, Ghodsee’s general approach to the Pomak case actually contributes to perpetuating the status quo in no small measure. As I have previously stated,

In Muslim Lives in Eastern Europe, on the other hand, Kristen Ghodsee is so intently focused on what she terms “orthodox Islam” in the Pomak context that she nearly essentializes it, making it appear to be the central, almost inescapable direction that Pomak life is taking in the central Rhodopes and the small town of Madan in particular, on which her research centers. Her definition of “orthodox Islam” includes the Arab-

8 Mary Neuburger, The Orient Within: Muslim Minorities and the Negotiation of Nationhood in Modern Bulgaria (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004), 10. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 7

influenced religious tendencies in the Rhodopes, particularly in matters of Islamic ritual and female dress, observable in Madan and imported largely via Middle East–educated locals. Against the backdrop of Ghodsee’s erudite analysis, however, lurks a post-9/11 melodrama dominated by photographs of mosques, rumored to be Arab-sponsored, and young headscarved women liable to attract the wrong kind of attention. The book evokes a sense of alarm that “orthodox” Islam could overtake Pomak communities across the Rhodopes, mass-producing female veiling and gender segregation—phenomena, atypical of the Pomaks, according to Ghodsee. The problem with this kind of conjectures—quite unintentional on Ghodsee’s part, to be sure—is that they in effect deprive the Pomaks of agency to direct and control the spread of Middle-East Islamic trends in their midst. That is, they relegate the Pomaks to being uncritical recipients of foreign influences without active evaluation and decision-making. It is precisely the matter of agency that drives the discourse of Pomak heritage today.9

In Imagining the Balkans, Maria Todorova makes the argument that modern Western academia tends to view Southeastern Europe as the essential, barbarian “Other” in relation to Western Europe. She both laments and rejects the stereotyping of the Balkans as “tribal,” “backward,” and “primitive,” and for good reasons.10 It is indeed dangerous and counterproductive to essentialize “the other,” in this case the Balkans, especially when those who are responsible for creating such essentialisms represent the dominant discourse. Insofar as it is not acceptable for the Western discourse to essentialize the Balkans, it is equally unacceptable for any dominant (Balkan national) discourses to essentialize minority narratives, while appropriating or suppressing their expression. In this context, my argument about the necessity of an activist approach to studying cultural and historical heritage assumes both legitimacy and relevance. In light of the statement that everyone’s heritage matters as a source of stable identity and rootedness, one should be able to explore one’s past in order to develop a sense of present and future. Because the Pomaks have involun- tarily lost connection with their history over the last century, their sense of self and heritage is fragmented. Perhaps, narratives that have been historically

9 Fatme Myuhtar-May, “The Pokrasvane (Christianization) of Pomaks during the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913,” in War and Nationalism, eds. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi (Salt Lake City, UT: University of Utah Press, 2013), 317. 10 Maria Todorova, Imagining the Balkans (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 3. 8 chapter 1 suppressed are even more important to address because they are at risk. As practitioner, however, one ought to be mindful of what one’s responsibilities are when interpreting heritage. A heritage practitioner for the purpose of this work is the historian who writes textbooks or puts together exhibitions, the archeologist who interprets excavated sites or objects, the cultural anthropologist who studies people, the conservationist who preserves the past for posterity, and pretty much anyone who is responsible for constructing the shared narrative in society. So far as I argue in support of pluralistic heritage presentation in the public sphere, the approach of heritage activism I advocate stresses the responsibility of cultural interpreters to be educators in society, rather than creators of exclusionary master narratives. The concept of cultural agency goes hand in hand with the necessity of a pluralistic interpretation of heritage in any collective national domain. Whereas I advance the inclusion argument in the context of Pomak heritage, it is only fitting to elaborate on what qualifies for pluralistic interpretation and how to go about achieving it in societies promoting themselves as democratic. It goes without saying that nation-states which have made claims to—or declared aspirations for—a democratic rule of Western type, such as Bulgaria and most post-communist Balkan nations, should also live up to broadly accepted standards of cultural pluralism in the sense of UNESCO’s convention (above), here taken to express the prevalent Western discourse of intangible heritage. Interpreters of cultural heritage in these societies, therefore, must be held to the same standards of pluralism and cultural inclusiveness as their liberal West European or North American counterparts. The section that follows elaborates on the role of cultural interpreters in brokering heritage within the context of a Western heritage discourse. However, my electing to provide examples from a U.S. or West European background in no way should suggest an uncritical endorsement of those standards as singularly and universally valid. Whereas the Western heritage experience is undoubtedly plagued by its own problems, it certainly bears the closest relevance to my argument of cultural agency. But, as critiquing the current Western standards of plurality remains outside the purview of my analysis, I only offer here a synthesis of relevant cases and ideas to make a case for the recognition of Pomak heritage in Bulgaria. I also take some liberty with generalizing about and interpreting plurality exclusively in positive terms for the sake of simplicity and in the hope of receiving the readers’ understanding. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 9

The Role of Heritage Brokers

As a pundit of the prevalent Western philosophy of heritage preservation, Robert Archibald skillfully connects pluralism to usefulness. “I have come to view history,” he writes, “as the construction of useful narrative”11 to everybody in society. In other words, since heritage interpretation is the domain of professionals, it is also their responsibility to create “useful narrative.” To fulfill that duty, therefore, heritage scholars—as the formal community story- tellers—should strive to create an all-inclusive narrative that is sensitive to the following: On one hand, it (i) accounts for the existence of a plurality of narratives (vernacular memories), and (ii) acknowledges the right of that plurality to exist. On the other hand, it (iii) abstains from aggression or disrespect towards one or many of the existing vernacular (minority) narratives, (iv) while having no obligation to agree with all of them (as similar goal is realisti- cally unattainable). The heritage narrative then, by virtue of its inclusiveness, (v) would furnish common grounds for building shared identity in society. Thus, the construction of “useful narrative,” in Archibald’s sense, implies some form of positive inclusion and participation of most (if not all individual) members of the national polity, because having a stake engages people’s responsibility and reinforces national identity. What I mean by positive inclusion, especially in the Pomak case, is largely a willing inclusion, or a general sense of readiness of a group to participate in the heritage discourse under the existing terms of interpretation. To nurture such willingness, Clarence Mondale advises that heritage preser- vationists should consider (any) history inherently problematic because that would enable them to be more critical of the way they interpret and preserve public heritage.12 Awareness of the fickle nature of heritage would make them more sensitive to integrating vernacular cultures into the mainstream heritage. Heritage, Mondale correctly remarks, is politically charged, first, because of the frequent opposition of vernacular (minority) to official (majority) heritages, and, second, because the funding for conservation is typically controlled by elites who tend to support a certain dominant discourse. Thus, it becomes imperative that cultural conservationists engage in heritage activism to ensure the construction of useful past—that is, past based on cultural interpretation that unites rather than divides society. One effective avenue for reconciling

11 Robert R. Archibald, A Place to Remember: Using History to Build Community (Walnut Creek: AtlaMira Press, 1999), 29. 12 Clarence Mondale, “Conserving a Problematic Past,” in Conserving Culture: A New Discourse on Heritage, ed. Mary Hufford (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 15–23. 10 chapter 1 vernacular and mainstream cultures that Mondale offers is through commoditization, or developing heritage for tourists. Heritage for tourism naturally stresses the inclusion of a variety of cultures, including and often mostly vernacular ones, because their exoticism is more likely to attract outside visitors. In Bulgaria, for example, the legacy of Salih Ağa (chapter six) could benefit tourism and the public discourse admirably, including through academic and fictional writing, reconstruction of his konak (a palace complex combining the functions of a family residence and government headquarters) as a heritage site, or formally attaching his name to such places as The Waterfall of Smolyan (still informally called The Gorge of Salih Ağa). Likewise, the colorful Ribnovo wedding has the potential to attract—as it already does—a number of foreign and domestic tourists, thereby benefitting both the Pomak and national narratives (chapter five). Yet, Pomak custodianship of both these heritages, among others, has to be acknowledged and respected in the public domain, not denied, for there to be proper heritage tourism. After all, it is Pomaks who pos- sess and can present this heritage to tourists in any authentic form. The concept of heritage custodianship simply requires that Pomaks be able to decide what their heritage is and how to interpret it. Fittingly, the authors13 of an article, titled “Traditional History and Alternative Conceptions of the Past,” insist that the “members of an ethnic or other community [should be able to] tell about themselves in their own terms [emphasis added].”14 Allan C. Downer et al., in other words, propose an approach to heritage interpreted in emic terms—that is, from the point of view of cultural insiders, not vice versa. The official history, they argue, is not “an objective chronicle” of bygone events, but historians’ reconstruction of the past on the basis of known events, surviving historical records, and scientific findings. Consequently, as all history advances an interpretation, state- sponsored preservation of history ought to consider vernacular narratives an authentic source of heritage, too, which merits preservation on an equal footing with the official (dominant) memory.15

13 Allan S. Downer, Jr., Alexandra Roberts, Harris Francis, and Clara B. Kelly. 14 Allan S. Downer et al., “Traditional History and Alternative Conceptions of the Past,” in Conserving Culture: A New Discourse on Heritage, ed. Mary Hufford (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 42. 15 Downer et al., 39–55. The authors specifically propose ethnographic consultation with local communities as a useful tool for identifying places of significance to them, which could then be tergeted for conservation. The authors cement their argument with furnishing a personal example of successfully conducted ethnographic consultation with the Navajo Indians. Probing the community’s sentiments, the ethnographer-authors Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 11

Achieving what Setha Low aptly calls a “cultural mosaic” in any public heritage space is easier said than done. Yet, there are ways to accomplish it while practicing heritage activism. Low suggests some useful techniques for overcoming challenges to pluralistic interpretation not only in the US, but also in traditionally more restrictive public domains. First, cultural conservationists could conduct good-faith ethnographic consultations with local people in order to find out what matters most to them and respond to that need appropriately. Second, they may consider constituency analysis—that is, probing the community’s interests and values so as to incorporate the prevalent ones into the interpretation of a given place or issue. Third, conservationists could simply be mindful of ethnicity- and class-related symbols of a culturally diverse place so as to include those—so far as possible—into the landscape’s interpretation. However, the successful implementation of such techniques of heritage interpretation already presupposes an extant pluralistic society—a public domain, where pluralism is already the norm. In this sense, like other Western authors, Low takes it for granted that, because pluralistic interpretation of heritage is such a public necessity, it only takes the willingness and creativity of heritage professionals to accomplish it.16 In the Pomak case, one is still in the initial stage of heritage activism. In other words, one is as yet seeking the formal recognition of Pomak heritage, before advancing to its active preservation and tourism commoditization. In a pluralistic vein of minimal activism, David Glassberg suggests that the role of heritage practitioners should be that of facilitators of the public narrative rather than of its creators. Stated differently, they should strive to facilitate public discussion of past and current events, rather than promote a particular version of history, not necessarily shared by other groups in society. In short, the professionals’ role is to broker the cultural dialogue in society, not create it.17 This should make sense in an environment that is traditionally more restrictive of vernacular heritages, and where practicing minimal heritage activism could be the path of least resistance to acquiring some cultural recognition. For the Pomaks in Bulgaria, this could mean a degree of acceptance of Pomakness in the public space (as opposed to none, currently), such as using the appellation to denote the Muslim population of the Rhodopes or

helped determine which places were sacred to the Navajo, so they could be conserved under special, federally funded projects for preserving Navajo culture. 16 Setha Low, “Cultural Conservation of Place,” in Conserving Culture: A New Discourse on Heritage, ed. Mary Hufford (Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 66–77. 17 David Glassberg, A Sense of History: The Place of the Past in American Life (Amherst, MA: University of Massachusetts Press, 2001). 12 chapter 1 designating songs or stories as “Pomak” without the usual “patriotic” outburst to follow every mentioning of a “Pomak minority.” Such minimal-activism approach, however, would not warrant anything close to the full expression of—far less custodianship over—the perceived Pomak heritage. The whole issue, therefore, just begs the question: When there are no compelling grounds for refusing recognition of one’s heritage, is mere toleration of it good enough? Considering the politically charged realities dominating many public domains, I agree with Mike Wallace’s assessment that the professionals’ most “fundamental mission [should be] to assist people to become historically-informed makers of history.”18 If interpreters cannot bring heritage activism to its fullest pluralistic form, then they should at least strive to engender a spirit of understanding in society that there is room for everyone’s heritage in the public domain, that knowledge of another group’s culture can be valuable, and that respect for diversity is a necessity in civil society. The bare minimum heritage interpreters could do—on their own—is deploy information in the public space in an expertly and non-derogatory manner. Ultimately, what emerges from this highly generalized discussion of Western heritage interpretation thus far is the need for a public domain in any society calling itself democratic, at the most basic level, to allow vernacular (dissenting) narratives to exist alongside dominant ones. The ability of any community, and its members, to determine what their cultural identity is or how to organize its preservation should be the minimum prerequisite for accepting a society as truly pluralistic. In a heritage space where communities are denied access to the media, textbooks, and civil society on their own terms and for reasons no other than xenophobic sentiments, there is no true plurality of opin- ions. So far, the Pomaks in Bulgaria have been refused the opportunity to speak for themselves, even though theirs is a heritage of potentially vast cultural benefit to society at large. This refusal to recognize Pomak culture has kept such popular phenomena as the Ribnovo wedding, for example, confined to a mere “curiosity” status, instead of the full-fledged Pomak cultural heritage that it is. The cultural agency I seek for the Pomak heritage requires a discussion of identity as the way dissenting voices negotiate a niche for themselves in public spaces already claimed by rigid master narratives. Often, as in the present case, these master narratives are the official, government-promoted, institutionalized versions of the past and present, which—to varying degrees—limit or deny access of vernacular (minority, dissenting) narratives to the public domain. Historical circumstances, discussed throughout this book, have transformed

18 Mike Wallace, Mickey Mouse History and Other Essays on American Memory (Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press, 1996), 27. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 13 the Pomak narrative into a dissenting one, and not by Pomak choice. The Pomaks are a community of people that speak Bulgarian as a mother tongue, but profess Islam as their religion unlike the country’s Orthodox Christian majority. Based on the unity of language, the Pomaks have been historically subjected to recurring forced assimilation since Bulgaria’s independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1878. Already in the early twentieth century, the nascent and aggressive Bulgarian nationalism sought to convert the Pomaks to Orthodox Christianity as a way to consolidate territory and forge national identity. The underlying rationale for the assimilation rested on the claim that the Pomaks descend from Christian Bulgarians, whom the Ottomans converted to Islam at a sword point sometime before the 1800s. Even as this narrative has taken deep roots in Bulgaria’s historical discourse as the single, undisputable truth, there is an emerging recognition among Bulgarian scholars that conversions to Islam of Slavic populations in the Balkans between the fourteenth and nineteenth centuries were largely voluntary.19 Nevertheless, the forced-assimilation thesis and the deeply seated anti-Ottoman/Turkish/Islamic nationalism in Bulgaria (and in the Balkans as a whole) has rendered it impossible for the Pomaks to stake a claim to Muslimness as the most immediate attribute of their distinct identity. In the vocabulary of Bulgarian nationalism, Muslim means “the other,” “the outsider,” “the enemy.” The Bulgarian-speaking Muslims, therefore, cannot profess Islam or maintain a separate religious-cultural identity and still be “true” Bulgarians. Repeatedly harassed to renounce their faith and traditions, the Pomaks have resisted multiple attempts at conversion or forced assimilation by various regimes in Bulgaria. In the past three decades, invoking the country’s claim to democracy, they have progressively insisted on being able to freely assert a Pomak heritage of their own making.20 Still, remnants of entrenched totalitarian mentality in Bulgaria’s nationalist ideology nip in the bud any formal or informal undertaking to that effect.21

19 For details, see chapter two. 20 In this book, the terms Pomaks, Slavic/Bulgarian-speaking Muslims, and Bulgarian Muslims are used interchangeably as synonymous. 21 One, among many, scandals involves the attempt by the Bulgarian Statistical Institute to democratically respond to people’s demands for free self-identification by including “Bulgaro-Mohammedan” and “Macedonian” identities, among others, in the 2011 census forms. Even though “Bulgaro-Mohammedan” or “Bulgarian-Mohammedan” is the standard name of reference to the Pomaks in Bulgaria, the ultra-nationalist political formation VMRO immediately announced this act to be a “monstrous,” “Stalinist” revisionism of Bulgarian history. The scandal generated a wave of resignations in the Bulgarian Statistical Institute when seasoned statisticians were accused of trying to create a “Bulgaro- Mohammedan ethnicity” in Bulgaria. Needless to say, the proposed changes to the census 14 chapter 1

Before moving any further, however, I need to explain what the meaning of heritage is that I promote here. The next section examines certain aspects of the generally broad heritage conception that are relevant to my argument of cultural agency in the Pomak context. Among other things, this part of the analysis defines heritage as identity on vernacular and national levels, a connection that is necessary to justifying my endeavor to identify, formulate, and preserve in writing fundamental aspects of the hotly contested, intangible Pomak heritage. Simply stated, the preservation of Pomak heritage is inseparable from the recognition of Pomak identity, and nationalism should not be an obstacle to granting that recognition.

Heritage as Identity

Heritage as an academic concept has an amorphous character because it explores the overlapping sections of various disciplines such as history, eth- nography, tourism, geography, literature, folklore, archeology, environmental science, and many others. According to the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, heritage is “[p]roperty that descends to an heir, something transmitted by or acquired from a predecessor; a legacy, inheritance, tradition, something passed on as a result of one’s natural situation or birth.”22 Thus, in addition to specifying that heritage is an entity that is passed on from one human generation to the next, the above definition suggests that heritage can be of both material (tangible) and symbolic (intangible) nature. Material things that constitute heritage may be family heirlooms (jewelry, china, furniture, art works, etc.), vintage cars, architectural buildings and monuments, heritage sites, historical records, natural environment, and wildlife. Heritage that is of intangible or symbolic nature, on the other hand, reflects people’s sense of identity: their understanding of who they are and their shared memories of the past as well as aspirations for the future. Although distinct, these two aspects of heritage are inherently connected through being claimed, preserved, and celebrated by people. While physical heritage requires conservation to endure as material anchors of community identity, spiritual heritage rests on remembrance to preserve what cannot be rendered into objects: the

form were immediately dropped. Thus, during the 2011 census, the Pomaks’s choice of identity was again restricted to “Bulgarians,” “Turks,” or “Others.” (Mihail Ivanov, “Prebroyavaneto dogodina veche e comprometirano,” Mediapool.bg, September 23, 2010.) 22 Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh edition (Merriam Webster Incorporated, 2004), 582. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 15 sense of belonging together as a community or as a nation-state. Ultimately, however, both forms of heritage are essential for promoting identity as a vital component of people’s sense of self and place in society. The need for identity is particularly acute among the members of disposed groups such as the Pomaks.

1 Heritage as Vernacular (Dissenting) Identity “Heritage is everywhere,” David Lowenthal proclaims. People cherish their heritage and so it matters to them.23 When individuals, communities, and even nation-states assign narratives to places and the past, heritage comes to life and, in time, transpires as identity. As cultural identities are shaped, heritage becomes mandatory, and as national narratives are formed, heritage gets institutionalized. When master narratives dominate public spaces, dissenting voices inevitably challenge them by seeking inclusion or insisting on their own versions of history. As the politics of heritage, thus, comes into play, it neces- sitates the call for pluralistic approaches to brokering heritage so that cultural narratives, needed by their holders, have a chance to survive. “[I]t has become conventional wisdom,” W. Fitzhugh Brundage posits, “that memory [as heritage] is inextricably bound up with group [community] identity.”24 Both material and symbolic heritage is constructed by people to indicate their belonging to a community—town, neighborhood, minority group, nation, region—in a way that reflects their perception of self. Heritage is always claimed by someone. In the process of appropriating it, people shape and transform heritage according to their need for an identity that is innocent and virtuous. Heritage, for its creator, is never vicious or fictitious, but always good, noble, and—from a nation-state’s perspective—glorious. As Peter Howard appropriately argues, identity is one of the central components of heritage. Heritage, in the author’s opinion, always reflects (i) a person or group’s search for identity; (ii) that it is people’s interpretation of the past; and that, (iii) once heritage has entered the public domain, it requires custo- dial management. As all humans share a drive to preserve things that are of value to them, heritage becomes the universal human quest for a comfortable sense of self whereby the members of a given community negotiate their identity with the rest in society and among themselves. The community then affirms their constructed identity (i) through symbolic commemoration of

23 David Lowenthal, “The Heritage Crusade and Its Contradictions,” in Giving Preservation a History, ed. Max Page and Randall Mason (New York: Routledge, 2004), 19–43. 24 W. Fitzhugh Brundage, ed., Where These Memories Grow: History, Memory, and Southern Identity (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2000), 3. 16 chapter 1 heroic events or person(s) from the past, and (ii) through material manifestations of heritage, including historic buildings and sites, monuments, written records, public festivities, rituals, and traditions. What is truly important in this process, however, is the community’s ability to manage the interpretation of its own tangible and intangible heritage.25 Accordingly, three fundamental techniques of constructing an acceptable identity can be gleaned from Brundage’s analytical account of Acadian culture in Louisiana. These are: (1) creating an acceptable past by validating myths (idealization); (2) authenticating the past by identifying material anchors of memory (authentication); and (3) promoting heritage by selling it to tourists (commoditization).26 What drove Louisiana’s Acadians into (re)imagining their identity during the “revivalist” movement of the 1920s–1960s was the unflattering Anglo-Saxon perceptions of them as crude peasant “folk.” In this period, Acadian cultural enthusiasts revived and recreated a heritage that would evoke a sense of pride in the community, rather than embarrassment about their rustic origins. Consequently, they authenticated the romantic myth of a brave and devoted maiden, Evangeline, who spent a lifetime search- ing for her beloved Gabriel.27 In Evangeline, the “revivalists” found both (i) desirable identity traits—loyalty, determination, endurance, bravery—to stress in the construction of heritage, and (ii) a suitable identity icon to epitomize the “noble” Acadian character. These narrative creators even provided the Evangeline myth with a “factual basis” in history by identifying locations in Louisiana, presumably of significance to Evangeline, including the very oak tree under which she cast a first glance at Gabriel. These physical attributes then not only became the material anchors (authenticators) of the constructed Acadian identity, but subsequently emerged as great tourist attractions. Ultimately, the “revivalists” successfully imagined a culture of their liking that satisfied both the Acadian people’s need for a dignified identity and Louisiana’s eagerness for tourist money, all with no harm to society at large.28 That all heritages have elements of cultural invention is beyond any doubt, even if those are based on “indisputable truths” in the eyes of the heritage beholders. Both people and nation-states need heritage to survive and thrive. In a fundamental way, heritage becomes a need that has to be satisfied through

25 Peter Howard, Heritage: Management, Interpretation, Identity (London: Continuum International Publishing Group, 2003), passim. 26 Brundage, 271–298. 27 The couple tragically lost contact during the “Great Exile,” i.e., Acadian migration from Nova Scotia, Canada, to Louisiana. 28 Brundage, 271–298. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 17

(re‑)invention, which is not an easy undertaking. In Southern Heritage on Display, ten case studies reveal that the construction and promotion of cultural identity can be a difficult process of negotiating, borrowing, and resisting cultural notions (stereotypes, imposed identities) even in a public domain with strong pluralistic traditions such as that of the Unites States.29 Kathryn VanSpanckeren, for example, describes how the black Creoles of Louisiana assume the identity and costume of the Plains Indians when performing in Mardi Gras, thus, effectively authenticating a claim to Native American lin- eage. In analyzing the structure of the urban Indian Song Cycle, VanSpanckeren depicts two distinct types of performances—those of the black and white communities in Louisiana, clearly projecting both groups’ sense of identity. Thus, the singing, dancing, and costuming of the black community are markedly warlike, heroic, and enacting mock battles that express rejection of white control, whereas the white performances are less concerned with emblems of oppression and resistance.30 This status quo highlights at least three crucial aspects of asserting heritage as identity. First, negotiating a desirable identity within the public space is important to previously marginalized groups (African Americans). Second, the process of constructing a desirable identity often involves defiance of the mainstream (white) culture, and borrowing from other vernacular cultures (from Native Americans) to dignify one’s heritage. Third, the group negotiating its identity through defiance and borrowing feels the need to affirm this constructed self-image in the public domain (via Mardi Gras performance). In “Melungeons and the Politics of Heritage,” Melissa Schrift further elaborates on the complexities of negotiating a cultural identity. Similarly to Brundage’s Acadian stipulation, she suggests that the term Melungeonness in eastern Tennessee constitutes an imposed identity that originally was rejected by the majority of those whom it concerned. For the Appalachian population, known to outsiders as Melungeon, the notion evoked popular racial slurs of “dark-skinned,” “dirty,” “untrustworthy” people—epithets originating in outside perceptions of the locals as being of mixed African American, Native American, and European American pedigree. Negotiating an acceptable Melungeon identity, therefore, has become paramount for the Melungeon community of Appalachia. It stems from their need to attain a heritage of their

29 Celeste Ray, ed., Southern Heritage on Display: Public Rituals and Ethnic Diversity with Southern Regionalism (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 2003). 30 Kathryn VanSpanckeren, “The Mardi Gras Indian Song Cycle: A Heroic Tradition,” in Southern Heritage on Display: Public Rituals and Ethnic Diversity with Southern Regional- ism, ed. Celeste Ray (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 2003), 57–78. 18 chapter 1 own making and to find a safe niche within the mainstream cultural discourse, where Melungeonness can be both distinct and respectable. As local Melungeon enthusiasts put themselves to the task of constructing a desirable identity, Schrift observes how at reunions and on internet forums lively discussions ensue about physical characteristics that set the Melungeons apart in a dignified way.31 In a similar fashion, the Pomaks of Bulgaria strive to disassociate their image from that of “forcibly converted Christians” or “traitorous Bulgarians,” partly in defiance of the historical assimilation and partly in search for a new, respectable identity for themselves. However, as a growing number of community members organize themselves to promote Pomak identity and to push for its recognition, the Pomak discourse in Bulgaria becomes more aggressively politicized. The recently registered “European Institute-Pomak” has been virtually subjected to state harassment since its inception. As late as August 2013, all thirteen of its founding members had been summoned “for a conversation” to the police headquarters in Gotse Delchev—which also happen to be the regional office of DANS (Dŭrzhavna agentsia za natsionalna sigurnost/State Agency for National Security), without formal subpoena. When Kŭdri Ulanov of Ribnovo, one of the founders, declined to appear, he was threatened with an arrest over the telephone. “As I found out,” he told journalists later, “DANS summoned us for interrogation based on the complaint of one dotsent [academic title] Evgeni Getchev—whom none of us knows—filed with the Chief Prosecutor, Sotir Tsatsarov, following a publication in Duma, the mouthpiece of BSP [the Bulgarian Socialist Party]. The publication in question is from 14 November 2012. Its author, Todor Koruev, alleges that the ‘European Institute- Pomak’—that is us—engages in anti-Bulgarian and anti-state activities. Another reason for our being called in [for questioning] is the report we sent to the European Commission [for Human Rights] and to the embassies of

31 Melissa Schrift, “Melungeons and the Politics of Heritage,” in Southern Heritage on Display: Public Rituals and Ethnic Diversity with Southern Regionalism, ed. Celeste Ray (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 2003), 106–129. Claiming Mediterranean ancestry—Portuguese and/or Turkish—these Melungeon activists have elaborated a whole list of traits (among those are the “Anatolian bump,” the “sleepy eyes,” and the Familial Mediterranean Fever), purportedly typical of their Euro- Mediterranean forefathers. Thus, at Melungeon gatherings, members of the community meticulously examine their bodies in search of characteristics that unite them. The act of discovering shared physical features, then, provides the descendants with the comforting reassurance of clean origins, respectable identity, and sense of rootedness. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 19 foreign countries where Pomaks live, detailing the factual [from the group’s perspective] status of the Pomak community in Bulgaria in 2012.”32 The “European Institute-Pomak” is the first—and so far the only—organization using the word “Pomak” in its name that has been allowed to formally register in Bulgaria. Previous attempts to establish Pomak organizations, including by seeking formal registration, had proven unsuccessful because various populist politicians and their following had managed to project such activities as “un-Bulgarian” and “anti-constitutional.” The existing constitutional prohibition to form political parties on “an ethnic, racial, or religious basis” has provided an ample justification for arbitrary attacks against any entity attempting to promote Pomak heritage in Bulgaria, with or without legitimate reasons.33 What this latest case demonstrates is that (i) a simple complaint to the chief prosecutor (ii) by a person believing that “European Institute-Pomak” engages in “anti-Bulgarian and anti-state activities,” (iii) based on the allegations of an article published nine months earlier, (iv) in a medium already serving a particular ideology, can become a reason for political harassment. Given the history of forced assimilation and the ongoing censoring of Pomak identity in Bulgaria, it is not difficult to imagine what the actual purpose of this police conduct is—to scare. Not being legally able to shut down the organization— be it as unconstitutional since it is not a political party (“Pomak” is now an officially registered political party, with membership opened to all Bulgarian citizens) or as an entity engaged in “anti-state activities” as there is no proof of

32 Infomreja.bg, “DANS privika na razpit rŭkovodstvoto na institute ‘Pomak,’” Infomreja.bg, Agust 13, 2013. Available at http://infomreja.bg/nova-ataka-sreshtu-institut-pomak-dans- privika-rykovodstvoto-na-razpit-13176.html. Accessed August 23, 2013. The original quote from the same source reads: “Разбрах, че предприетите от ДАНС разпити са във връзка с жалба на доц. Евгени Гечев, когото никой от нас не познава, до главния прокурор Сотир Цацаров след публикация в официоза на БСП—вестник ‘Дума.’ Статията е от 14 ноември 2012 година. В нея авторът Тодор Коруев твърди, че Европейски институт «Помак», тоест ние, извършва антибългарска и антидържавническа дейност. Другата причина за привикването ни е изпратеният от нас доклад до Европейската комисия и посолствата на държавите, в които живеят помаци. В него сме изложили фактическото състояние на помашкото население в България през 2012 година,” подочи [Kъдри] Уланов. 33 Article 11.4 of Bulgaria’s Constitution reads: “Political parties may not be formed on an ethnic, racial, or religious basis, nor [shall it be permissible to form] any parties which make it their object to seize state power by force.” Available at http://www.vks.bg/english/ vksen_p04_01.htm#Chapter_Two_. Accessed September 23, 2013. 20 chapter 1 that—the authorities, both police and DANS, resort to “proven” communist methodology—harassment—to stop the formalization of Pomak identity. It is through such indiscriminate forms of harassment that the development of Pomak heritage in Bulgaria continues to be frustrated. What is more, the prevalent excuse for this arbitrariness is usually of the most base and offensive kind: Accusations of “un-Bulgarian” activities, “Islamic fundamentalism,” and “terrorist” intents, filed by any ill-intentioned person with the police or the chief prosecutor will usually suffice. In the context of historical abuses, this treatment instills a sense of powerlessness and cultural dispossession among the Pomaks in Bulgaria that cannot possibly be conducive to pluralism. As the Pomaks strive for some form of empowerment, including recognition of their heritage, they face indomitable obstacles. But a community’s need for identity and cultural respectability cannot simply be dismissed on grounds of irrational intolerance. As a group, the Pomaks are yet to successfully negotiate and affirm an identity of their own making in the public domain. It will take a great deal of inside cultural activism, on one side, and a receptive socio-political environment, on the other, to salvage the remnants of Pomak heritage. Much like the Acadian “revivalists” of Louisiana in the 1960s, cultural activists must piece the fragments together and create a more coherent picture of Pomak identity. The need for cultural respectability is universal and does not solely belong to historically marginalized people. Individuals, communities, and countries alike feel the need for a dignified heritage. Nation-states, too—especially previously subjugated ones—aspire to venerable origins and claim glorious antiquities. States, moreover, seek to affirm narratives of “golden ages” via aggressive nationalism. It is important to analyze the concept of heritage as national identity because it is in this context that vernacular heritages emerge, to survive or die. The next section discusses identity on the national level, arguing that if nation-states could construct narratives of their own, so should vernacular communities dwelling within.

2 Heritage as National (Dominant) Identity In Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson forcefully argues that nation- ness, nationality, and nationalism are not some preexisting pillars of social order, but cultural construct, which ruling elites invented in response to pressing social needs.34 Thus, the phenomenon of nation-state is an ideological product that superseded the older feudal state structure once it became

34 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York: Verso, 1991), 4. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 21 obsolete, rather than being a predetermined order of things.35 The modern concept of the nation as a community of people sharing culture and territory, therefore, is not preordained. Rather, in Andersonian terms, it is an imagined entity, which has been (re-)invented by elites under critical socio-cultural and political circumstances. Following Anderson’s line of reasoning, Hugh Trevor-Roper famously reveals (employing a controversial language one should add) that the proverbial “ancient” tartan-and-kilt costume of Scotland is an eighteenth-century invention.36 Therefore, every time Scotsmen come together to celebrate their national heritage, imposingly dressed in patterned tartans and adorned by kilts and bagpipes, they are not re-enacting a tradition from antiquity, but a cultural construct from modernity. Shaped by the extreme political circumstances of the 1700s, the distinguishable tartan and kilt had come to epitomize the dignified Scottish identity by the late eighteenth century. Well into the 1700s, Scotland essentially existed as two detached portions, having very little in common: namely, the “civilized,” English-and-French-influenced Lowlands and the “barbarian,” “roguish” Highlands, as the author puts it. Whereas the Saxon Lowlanders followed European fashions of waistcoat and breeches, the Celtic Highlanders wore the tartan—attire highly adapted to the rocky and boggy terrain of the Scottish mountains, as well as cheap to obtain. Not only did the tartan37 firmly connect the Highlanders to Ireland, whence they had come from, but the large majority of Scotchmen considered it “a sign of bar barism; a badge of roguish, idle, predatory Highlanders . . . a nuisance . . . to civilized, historic [Lowland] Scotland.”38 By the mid-eighteenth century, however, England had crushed the last of the pro-independence Jacobite Rebellions in Scotland (1745), subdued the population, and outlawed the Highland dress with an act of Parliament (1746). Thereafter, the tense relationship between England and Scotland provoked many a Scottish nobility to adopt the tartan in symbolic resistance to English oppression. Ironically, while powerful Lowlanders elevated the Highland dress to an emblem of Scottishness, the Highlanders themselves substituted the tartan for breeches during the thirty-five-year English prohibition (the 1746 ban was later lifted) never to reconstitute its former omnipresence. Ultimately, it

35 Ibid., passim. 36 Hugh Trevor-Roper, “The Invention of Tradition: The Highland Tradition of Scotland,” in The Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 15–41. 37 Tartan is a cloth woven in geometric patterns of color (Trevor-Roper, 18–19). 38 Trevor-Roper, 15. 22 chapter 1 was the need of Scotland to resist subjugation and promote a dignified national identity that transformed the tartan-and-kilt dress from “a badge of barbarism” into a symbol of heroic heritage. Neither the tartan nor the kilt, however, possessed the ancient pedigree they were purported to have, but rather sprang from the Scottish drive to assert a distinctly noble identity. In the end, Highlanders and Lowlanders forged their sense of belonging together, as Scotsmen, in opposition to English tyranny and adopted the tartan and kilt39 as the national costume of Scotland. Simply stated, in the turbulent, modern age of nationalism, symbols of national identity have been abundantly and continuously (re-)imagined as ancient in a manner of state prerogative and to the exclusion of many dissenting narratives. Extremely aggressive nationalisms are particularly visible in previously subjugated nation-states. Among these are most southeast European states, including Bulgaria, which rose to nationhood only after the disintegration of the last surviving multiethnic empires—Habsburg Austria-Hungary and Ottoman Turkey in late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Nation- building within these states was a fairly sudden and violent process. With no foundation of sovereign government or tradition in democratic rule, the newly independent Balkan peoples adopted the kind of romantic nationalism that imposed—what was perceived as—the collective will of the leading ethno- religious communities.40 As nationalism equated aggressive dominance of the ethno-cultural majority, violence against diverging groups—especially those perceived as a threat to the nascent nation-state—was rife. Violence, therefore, became an integral part of the process of nation-building and affirming national identity. In defiance of the Ottoman Islamic dominance, the young nation-states of Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, and Montenegro, among others, embarked on an ideology of nationalism meant to ensure the political suprem- acy of the culturally prevalent Christian majority, at all cost. All in all, the Balkan states at the turn of the twentieth century tended to be overly concerned with securing the dominance of the ethno-religious majority vis-à-vis the former “oppressor.” The politics of coercion these new nations often exerted took the forms of exclusion (expulsion), intimidation, and/or forced assimilation of religiously, ethnically, or linguistically differing groups within the national community. Whereas exclusion permanently placed

39 The kilt was invented by the Englishman Thomas Rawlinson, an ironsmith, to serve the practical purpose of holding the tartan of his Highland workmen in place while they operated his furnaces in the eighteenth century. 40 Hans Kohn, Nationalism: Its Meaning and History (Princeton, NJ: D. Van Nostrand Company, Inc., 1955), 87. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 23 certain segments of the population outside of the identity discourse, ruling elites also resorted to coercive assimilation to enforce, solidify, and maintain uniformity among the people of the nation-state they controlled. In the sense that assimilation of minority groups proved crucial to the successful consolidation of the national state and to the continuing process of popular solidarity, ruling elites first attempted to assimilate diverging communities, including by force. When assimilation failed to produce results, exclusion and marginaliza- tion supplanted it. This scenario certainly fits the historical treatment of the Pomaks in Bulgaria, whose heritage continues to be heavily censured.

Five Case Studies

With the concept of cultural agency in mind, this book sets out to make a first contribution to the process of claiming a Pomak heritage. By formulating and preserving in writing engaging and pivotal aspects of it, I strive to bring what is a contested narrative at present to the forefront of legitimate debate. As no single issue of the Pomak story is more important than the rest, I felt justified in my freedom to select specific cases to study. In the process of research, I identified, analyzed, and narrated five separate stories with the help of archival documents, oral narratives, available literature, and compelling imagery. Each of these case studies not only contains a fascinating storyline (independent of my storytelling ability), but also belongs among the most prominent identifiers of Pomak history and culture, in my opinion. Specifically, they relate to (i) the Pomak Christianization (pokrŭstvane) of 1912–1913 (chapter two); (ii) the communist vŭzhroditelen protses (revival process or rebirth) of 1972–1974 (chapter three); (iii) Ramadan Runtov’s life of political dissent against the forced assimilation (chapter four); (iv) the elaborate wedding rituals of Ribnovo (chapter five); and (v) the forgotten legacy of the Ottoman governor of Pomak origin, Salih Ağa of Paşmaklı (chapter six). All five narratives constitute a remarkable Pomak heritage in themselves, and pertain to the past and present of the Muslim, Bulgarian-speaking community of the Rhodopes, jointly known as Pomaks. Most of the analysis in all five chapters rests on oral history and archival documents. The former evidence stems, in largest part, from personally conducted interview and from oral history recorded by others. The later derives from archival documents housed in the Central State Archives-Sofia (hereafter, Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, or TsDAS), Regional State Archives-Plovdiv (hereafter, Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plo- vdiv, or ReDAP), and Regional State Archives-Smolyan (hereafter, Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Smolyan, or ReDAS). 24 chapter 1

Formulating a comprehensive narrative of the Pomak heritage is a daunt- ing—and presently impossible—task because of the historical fragmentation of the collective Pomak story, among other factors. Therefore, such an approach is beyond the scope of this book as similar over-ambitiousness would nearly amount to academic arrogance. Instead, my more modest goal—as well as obligation as a cultural insider and heritage practitioner—is to document and preserve Pomak stories as a kind of initial stage in the emergent, continuous, and more comprehensive process of negotiating the Pomak heritage. Chapters two, three, and four of this book deal with the most dramatic and visible part of the collective Pomak existence in Bulgaria: the various forced conversions/assimilations which ultimately defined the community’s sense of self. The pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913 was the first attempt at comprehensive religious conversion of the Pomaks as citizens of the new Eastern Orthodox Christian nation-state of Bulgaria. As a divergent group, affiliated with the former Ottoman “oppressor” by religion, and as a Slavic (Bulgarian)-speaking minority, they were immediately singled out for assimilation within the broader context of territorial, political, and cultural consolidation of the country. The Balkan Wars of 1912–191341 provided the “opportune moment,” in the words of one priest, for Bulgaria’s ruling elite to launch the brutal business of pokrŭstvane.42 The plethora of existing records reveal that not only all levels of state and church authorities were involved in the pokrŭstvane, but also insurgent bands which facilitated the conversion through violence and murder of Pomak civilians. The Christianization of 1912–1913 took place in the context a powerful and violent nationalist ideology. Chapter three explores the impact of the vŭzhroditelen protses on Pomak life during the communist period in Bulgaria (1944–1989). In particular, I provide an overview of the last significant Bulgarianization of Pomak culture using archival documents as well as first-hand witness accounts. The compos- ite evidence suggests that the vŭzhroditelen protses was not a sudden and chaotic affair as ideologically implied. Rather, it was a meticulously planned and coldly executed strategy that faltered at times upon encountering resistance, but never paused—no matter the cost—until coming to full fruition in 1985 with the renaming of the Turkish minority. Although the term vŭzhroditelen protses is generally associated with the communist campaign against the ethnic Turks, the ordeal of the Pomaks is no less significant. In fact, because the

41 See chapter two for more details. 42 See footnote 32 of chapter two. Note: All archival documents and interviews used in this book are the author’s translation from Bulgarian. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 25 violence against them drew surprisingly little international attention in comparison to that against the Bulgarian Turks, studying the Pomak vŭzhroditelen protses seems even more compelling. The interviews I conducted with former victims serve as a powerful, direct testimony to what occurred during the 1960s and 1970s. In particular, this chapter examines the policy and ideology of the vŭzhroditelen protses, the Pomak identity crisis it generated, and the political resurrection of the notorious organization Rodina, which served as the revivalist propaganda machine. Chapter four narrates the life story of Ramadan Runtov, one of the most active Pomak anti-revivalists in Bulgaria from the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s. For over thirty years, Ramadan’s life had been a sequence of economic hardship, political persecution, imprisonment, and torture. Because of his vocal opposition to the vŭzhroditelen protses, the regime arrested Ramadan and tried him on bogus treason charges (i.e., conspiring the overthrow the “people’s regime”), for which he faced the possibility of death penalty. The gravity of the charges, however, was largely a ploy to scare him into silence. Consequently, Ramadan spent over a decade behind bars as a political prisoner, where he endured a regimen of harassment, starvation, and sleep deprivation.43 In the end, the regime rounded up Ramadan and his family and summarily expelled them from Bulgaria in May 1989, just six month before the collapse of communism in the country. The Runtovs eventually settled in Istanbul (Turkey), where I interviewed the then seventy-seven-year-old Ramadan in the summer of 2007. The chapter argues that the life stories of exiles like Ramadan are not only an engaging narrative of dissent, but also an essential component of the Pomak heritage. Chapter five paints the portrait of a beautiful wedding ritual within the context of Pomak heritage. The event occurs seasonally in a remote corner of southwest Bulgaria, in the village of Ribnovo. The Ribnovo wedding is an age- old local tradition, typical of the Rhodopean Muslim community, which has all but disappeared elsewhere. The elaborate colorfulness of the bridal make-up not only has put Ribnovo on the map of Bulgarian national and international cultural phenomena, but also has raised questions about Pomak identity. Ribnovo is a Pomak community; identified by its members as Pomak and known by the outside world to be Pomak. In this chapter, I introduce the reader to the village of Ribnovo as I saw it in 2004, 2009, and 2013, in its isolated location, narrow winding roads, and clustered layout. I also provide a detailed description of the traditional Ribnovo wedding as an event in the course of

43 Ramadan Runtov, interview by author, Istanbul, Turkey, May 21, 2007; Ismail Byalkov, interview by author, Istanbul, Turkey, May 20, 2007. 26 chapter 1 which the entire community celebrates, putting a particular emphasis on the bride’s adornment and cheiz (dowry) arrangement—by far, the two most attractive and well-known features of the Ribnovo wedding. Above all, however, I wish to project the Ribnovo wedding as a distinctly Pomak tradition— that is, typical of the Bulgarian-speaking Muslims of the Rhodopes. Chapter six revives the memory of Salih Ağa of Paşmaklı, the Pomak gover- nor of the Ottoman kaza of Ahı Çelebi between 1798 and 1838. He was a remarkable person who not only secured stability in Ahı Çelebi in turbulent times for the Ottoman Empire, but also established a social order of a new type—one based on equality between Muslims and Christians despite a discriminating Shari’a (the normative law of the Ottoman Empire).44 As Nikolay Haytov— despite being one of the most nationalistic Bulgarian writers—sums it up, the governor’s most remarkable legacy lies in “the fact that he elevated the status of the Christians to that of the Muslims in both civil and political aspect[.]”45 To this day, however, the heritage of Salih Ağa remains obscure and unrecognized in local public history, because he was a bureaucrat of the former Ottoman “oppressor,” and, moreover, a Pomak. This chapter recreates the life story of a remarkable person, whom the annals of Ottoman imperial history overlook as petty local governor and Bulgarian historiography neglects quite purposely as “Turkish tyrant.”

In Conclusion

Whereas Acadian, Melungeon, or Pomak heritages, among others across the world, may be cultural inventions, the process of constructing a dignified self- image is a legitimate way for communities to contest identities that have been imposed on them by outsiders in a disparaging manner. The ability of vernacular cultures to reject demeaning notions as a matter of right becomes even more compelling when the imposer is the nation-state, or at least a majority- endorsed one. Nation-states and national identities, too, have been forged in opposition to imperial master narratives as the case of Scotland illustrates. However, while no nation-state is immune to constructing and imposing master narratives in (what should constitute) shared cultural domains, it behooves

44 See chapter two and six for details. 45 Nikolay Haytov, “Smolyan: Tri vŭrha v srednorodopskata istoria”/“Smolyan: Three Pinnacles in the History of the Middle Rhodopes”/ (Sofia: Izdatelstvo na Natsionalnia Sŭvet na Otechesvenia Front/National Council of the Fatherland Front Publisher, 1962), 27. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 27 a society projecting itself as democratic, at the very minimum, to foster a public space free from suppression of dissenting (minority) narratives. After all, heritage is socially constructed to serve the need of its creator for an acceptable identity, not some immutable natural law. Heritage depends on the prevalent social norms of the day, which (i) if marked by intolerance, support the heritage of the dominant group, and (ii) if promoting inclusion, keep the governing elites in check. It is the responsibility of heritage professionals to work towards brokering pluralistic collective heritage in the public domain that provides grounds for integration, rather than separation, of all members of society. Whereas, theoretically, it is easy to argue in favor of pluralism, reality presents many, seemingly insurmountable obstacles to a holistic heritage interpretation. Vicious nationalism and stubborn determination to keep a single master narrative in place among previously subjugated nations or young democracies can be particularly crippling to inclusiveness. In Bulgaria, as in other nation-states, the definition of nationalism is effectively reduced to narod, meaning that nation and people are one and the same thing. This entails the restrictive equalization of the nation-state with the values and sentiments of the dominating ethno-cultural majority in palpable disregard for the needs of diverging groups. This sort of ideology, which has historically been a powerful tool for assimilating the Pomaks, is very much alive and working in Bulgaria. As a result, efforts to promote a Pomak heritage—one that is separate from the ethnic Bulgarian (Christian) narrative—in the official public domain have consistently turned into frustration for interested professionals as well as amateur enthusiasts. As culture is the lifeblood of every identifiable human group, however, people need identity and a sense of rootedness to achieve fulfilling existence. The Pomaks—among other communities—feel the need to establish a heritage that will provide them with a stable sense of self. Having been consistently denied access into the official domain, they have sought other outlets to express themselves. A curious phenomenon is happening lately. The inability to freely promote the culture as Pomak via publications, museum exhibits, heritage sites, and narratives has prompted a growing number of people to use the Internet, including social networking sites like Facebook, to voice their opinion and express their creativity. Passionate heritage amateurs have created websites, opened forums, published photographs and stories, and formed interest groups to keep in touch and exchange information nation- and region- wide regarding Pomak identity and culture. Considering the continuing and unfortunate censorship of Pomak identity in Bulgaria, it seems almost miracu- lous to me to simply Google “Pomak,” “Ribnovo” and suchlike terms to be able 28 chapter 1 to read stories about the vŭzhroditelen protses or peruse through myriad of photographs of exquisitely decorated Ribnovo brides, including on informally established Pomak heritage websites. Because Pomak culture has much to offer in the way of enrichment and little in the way of harm, I have made it my academic mission to work for its survival. Whereas the lack of reliable literature on the subject matter inevitably cost me much frustration at the initial stage of this research, it ultimately proved a blessing. As early as my preliminary investigation, I encountered so many good stories in the form of fascinating personalities, traditions, and events that it would have been extremely difficult to try to concentrate on one instead of several narratives. But even as I expanded from the legendary Salih Ağa of the Ottoman past to the colorful Ribnovo wedding today and from the 1912 pokrŭstvane to the communist vŭzhroditelen protses, I have barely scratched the surface of what is yet to be defined as Pomak heritage. Doubtlessly, historians, ethnographers, and folklorists will find Pomak culture to be an end- less source of fascination and enjoyment once they have won the hearts of their target communities. For me, however, the issue of exploring Pomakness has a deeply personal dimension, too. Beyond fulfilling academic obligations, this research has enabled me to make sense of childhood memories as well as of my own perception of self and belonging. Growing up and into young adulthood, I remember being utterly uneasy to declare myself a Pomak. The discomfort came not from some shame- ful past or unclean identity of the collectivity of Pomak people. Rather, it origi- nated in Bulgarian nationalism and the brutal propaganda that accompanied the nation-state’s struggle for self-determination following the country’s independence from Ottoman rule in 1878. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, Bulgaria was still a fledgling national state just emerging from the chaos of the disintegrating Ottoman realm. Forced into a savage competition for land and resources with other newly forming Balkan states, Bulgaria had to quickly forge a national identity in order to survive. Since Bulgaria defined itself as a Christian nation,46 it waved the banner of anti-Muslimness to distinguish itself from its former Islamic Ottoman “oppressor” and to stake its own claim to a dignified existence. One speedy and effective way to that end was the assimilation of the Pomaks, who spoke the Bulgarian language, compactly inhabited the disputed realm of the Rhodope Mountains, but problematically professed the Islamic faith. The leaning to convert the Rhodopean Muslims to Eastern Orthodox Christianity, therefore, became a determined policy almost immediately. Accordingly, state ideology duly labeled the Pomaks “pure-blood”

46 Not unlike its neighbors Greece, Serbia, Montenegro, and Romania. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 29

Bulgarians to justify the conversion, as if identity ran in the DNA and not in historical circumstances. Thus, from Ottoman Muslims until the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913, the Pomaks became “Bulgarians” overnight, and they were hard pressed to switch religious affiliation in order to fit their new label. Whereas the Balkan Wars pokrŭstvane was the first sustained religious conversion of the Pomaks in Bulgaria, it was only the beginning of a long and grueling process of cultural assimilation. The legacy of religious suppression and forced name changing made a derogatory term of the name “Pomak,” explain- ing it to mean “pomŭchen,” or “tortured” into becoming Muslim.47 Thus, from a name describing the collectivity of Slavic (Bulgarian)-speaking people of the Islamic faith in the Rhodopes, “Pomak” came to be associated with “descendants of Bulgarian Christians who had been forcedly Islamized by the Turks,” as if “Bulgarian” was some preexisting identity. Moreover, especially with the vŭzhroditelen protses, Pomak not only became synonymous with “tortured,” but also developed the damning connotation of “traitorous.” That is, because of their stubborn resistance to the forced assimilation, the Pomaks were gradually assigned a kind of collective guilt for the presumed failure of their “forefathers” to die for the Christian faith instead of succumbing to Islam. These two words, therefore—“tortured” and “traitorous”—held the key to my (and other people’s) uneasiness to call themselves Pomak. I used to feel—rather, I was made to feel, as so many still are—a profound sense of shame for belonging to a people who had turned themselves into historical outcasts because of a purported inability to stand up for themselves. But even believing so, I was struggling with a dilemma: “If the Pomaks could succumb to Islamization so easily, how is it that they have not reconciled with Bulgarianization (to be understood forced assimilation) yet?” As this book will point out, they did not succumb in the sense, which Bulgarian nationalism puts into the term. Rather, Rhodopeans accepted conversion for various reasons. In later years, more Bulgarian historians have begun to concede that conversions to Islam across the Ottoman Balkans were voluntary rather than forced. Ottoman subjects of various cultural and religious backgrounds adopted Islam for prestige and socio-political opportunity prior to the nineteenth century, because—contrary to the Romantic nationalism’s propaganda—they lacked a sense of national belonging. Thus, Greek, Bulgarian, or Serbian national identity was only cultivated in the nineteenth century when the ideology of nationalism penetrated the

47 It is a widely known thesis; freely floating within Bulgaria’s public domain, and still vigorously defended by the official historiography, despite the lack of evidence to suggest that the Pomaks were forced to convert to Islam (for details, see Anton Minkov, Conversion to Islam in the Balkans (Leiden: Brill, 2004), passim). 30 chapter 1

Balkans and imbued the subjugated Christian populations of the Ottoman Empire with aspirations for independent statehood after the example of Western Europe.48 Considering that the community of Bulgarian-speaking Christians within the Ottoman Empire only developed a collective self-consciousness in the later nineteenth century, could the Pomaks feel Bulgarian in the seventeenth century, when their purported Islamization occurred? Is it possible to talk about Bulgarianness at all before such national identity was forged? Can one be traitorous to a national identity or culture even before one has one? Quite simply, the whole contemporary debate about Pomak identity is a modern predicament generated in the age of nationalism and driven by the nascent nation- state’s need to affirm sovereignty. The problem, however, lies not in the need—or even innate right—of the nation-state to survive, but in its inability to give up its coercive ways long after the need has been met and stable national society has been established. Considering the modern discourse of democracy and plurality, it should no longer make sense to practice counterproductive coercion. Yet, the exclusion of Pomak identity from the public domain in Bulgaria remains remarkably aggressive. Because it is narrowly defined to mean the community’s rejection of their Bulgarian origins, the concept “Pomak” is simply unacceptable outside of the officially endorsed meaning of the term. Ironically, this stance stems not from a legitimate concern about fragmentation of the national identity—for nothing is more contributive to it than violence—but from the irrational fear of losing control should plurality gain acceptance. Such fragile state of national self-confidence, however, is consistent with the nation-state’s history of prior subjugation, authoritarian (communist) government, and lack of truly democratic values. In this sense, beyond fulfilling academic, professional, or moral requirements, this book has given me the courage to explore my cultural roots without cringing at the thought of what I might find out there or how my conclusions would be received in an environment of still fervent nationalism. The goal of this research throughout has not been to maliciously antagonize peoples and narratives, but to put across the message that everyone’s heritage matters. That everyone should be able to explore, maintain, and preserve their identity in a dignified and constructive way without fear of censorship or retribution. Insofar as I believe that fashioning one’s outlook is first and foremost one’s own prerogative, I also claim that a group’s identity should be the group’s own domain before it is someone else’s. In other words, the Pomaks—or any

48 See the relevant sections of chapters two and three. Heritage Of Pluralism Or Having Cultural Agency 31 community, anywhere—need not be told—much less forced into—what to think of themselves. It is important that Pomak heritage exists and for many reasons. On the most technical level, such narratives as the Ribnovo wedding, Salih Ağa, and Ramadan Runtov make for an exciting academic storytelling likely to appeal to many and diverse audiences. On a more substantive level, the ability of a community to express and take pride in their heritage provides its members with a sense of rootedness and empowerment. The need for a cultural agency is particularly acute among the members of a historically dispossessed group like the Pomaks, who continue to face prejudice and intimidation in their daily efforts to express Pomak identity. An acknowledgement of Pomak heritage in Bulgaria—and of vernacular heritages across the globe—needs to happen as a matter of basic human right. The chief mufti of Bulgaria Mustafa Hadzhi formulated it very appropriately in a speech delivered on March 28, 2013, during the celebration of the fortieth anniversary of the vŭzroditelen protses in Kornitsa: “We are in Kornitsa. There is a church in front of us and a mosque behind us. But neither the church, nor the mosque bother any of us. I am a good Muslim citizen of this country and I want the same rights that Christo and George have to be given to me and Ahmed, too.”49 In light of the argument that there is Pomak heritage, this book is an example of what may qualify for such. It is also an expression of the cultural agency I claim for myself, as a member of the Pomak community, to formulate a version of the Pomak story without harming anyone. All along, I have been mindful that cultivating tolerance in any heritage discourse is the precondition for moral success.

49 “S vŭzpomenatelen miting DPS otbelyaza 40-godishninata ot sŭbitiyata v gotsedelchevskoto selo Kornitsa,” Dvizhenie za prava i svobodi, March 3, 2013. Available at: www.dps.bg/ news/events/2234/s-vazpomenatelen-miting-dps-otbelyaza-40-godishninata-ot- sabitiyata-v-gotsedelcheskoto-selo-kornitsa.aspx. Accessed April 3, 2013. CHAPTER 2 Nationalism and Violence: The Case of Pomak Christianization (Pokrŭstvane) in Bulgaria, 1912–1913*

The history of forced assimilation is the defining aspect of Pomak heritage in Bulgaria, and it is the ideology of violent nationalism that underwrote it. The young nation-state’s need to affirm sovereignty and forge respectable national identity required the rejection of the Ottoman-Islamic past, as well as the purging of everything reminiscent of the former “oppressor’s” dominance over the perceived Bulgarian “homeland.” In unison with this sentiment, Bulgaria immediately singled out the Muslim Pomaks for conversion to Orthodox Christianity during the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913 because, as a sizable minority group, their assimilation fulfilled two vital objectives. On one hand, it enabled the fledgling nation-state’s claim to all territories settled by Bulgarian-speaking Muslims based on language commonality. On the other hand, it helped diffuse the freshly forged Bulgarian-Christian national identity to newly conquered populations, notably to the Pomaks. Ultimately, various Bulgarian regimes, like many others, consistently and effectively exploited the ideology of nationalism to achieve political and cultural consolidation, including though violence. This chapter enfolds the historical picture of the pokrŭstvane based on two primary sources: existing documents dating back to the time of occurrence, and surviving Pomak oral histories. Much of the first-hand evidence I draw from the collection of archival records published under the editorship of the Bulgarian scholars Velichko Georgiev and Stayko Trifonov, as well as from the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace’s Report on the Balkan Wars of 1914 (hereafter, the Carnegie Report). Organized in chronological order, Georgiev and Trifonov’s volume effectively reveals the pokrŭstvane as a premeditated and hushed affair in which ecclesiastical, state, and military authorities participated directly. The Carnegie Report, on the other hand, illuminates the broader Balkan conflict and reveals the picture of violence committed by all belligerents against civilian populations. (Controversial today for its politi-

* Reprinted, with important additions and modifications, from Fatme Myuhtar-May, “The Pokrasvane (Christianization) of Pomaks during the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913,” in War and Nationalism, eds. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi, pp. 316–360 (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2013).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��4 | doi 10.1163/9789004272088_003 Nationalism And Violence 33 cally incorrect language, my use of the Carnegie Report is limited to its well- documented witness reports of violence committed by the nationals of all belligerent nations against “enemy” nationals.) Surviving Pomak oral stories, for their part, attest to the widespread murder of Pomaks in the (Western) Rhodopes, committed mostly by insurgent Christian bands with the active support of the regular army. Ultimately, even though direct admission of killing is conspicuously absent from the communication exchange and documented meetings of ecclesiastical authorities, religious missions, and military officials in available Bulgarian sources (for reasons explained in this chapter), evidence to that effect could be gleaned from the Carnegie Report and from existing oral histories. The chapter further analyzes this first comprehensive Christianization (pokrŭstvane) of the Pomaks in Bulgaria on the premise of nationalism and violence (the same as nationalism of violence), which sets the ideological context for the rest of this book. The nationalism premise, however, first and foremost requires an explanation of just what accounts for the preponderance of violence in the Bulgarian (and Balkan) national context. The next several pages will explore the definition of nationalism and its specific Balkan application before detailing the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913 as the first comprehensive step in Bulgaria’s attempt to appropriate Pomak heritage in the process of nation-building.

The Nationalism Premise

What I have come to regard as the classical definition of nationalism, established by twentieth-century theoreticians, describes the phenomenon as eighteenth-century, West-European popular struggle against dynastic absolutism and revolutionary drive for increased participation of the people in state government.1 The early stages of nationalism were marked by civil revolutions in two of the most preeminent West European monarchies, England and France. While the English Civil War of the mid-seventeenth century, whereby Parliament challenged and effectively curtailed the authority of King Charles I,

1 For more details on the above definition of nationalism, as well as on its projection from Europe to the rest of the world, read, among others, Carlton J.H. Hayes, The Historical Evolution of Modern Nationalism (New York: Richard R. Smith, Inc., 1931); Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York: Verso, 1991); and Liah Greenfeld, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992). 34 chapter 2 in effect set the wheel of nationalism into motion, it was the French Revolution of 1789 that made it spin to its fullest capacity. In the sense that popular revolt in both England and France brought royal tyranny to its knees, one may argue that nationalism was a sort of democratic movement projected at enhancing personal liberties and limiting the absolute powers of monarchal regimes. This initial meaning of nationalism as an engine of liberty, however, changed as the phenomenon began to move eastward on the European continent and beyond. The countries of central, eastern, and southeastern Europe, where nationalism—more or less—turned into exclusionism and violence during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, lacked the hard-won historical traditions of England and France in liberal government and statehood. One pivotal factor that determined the type of nationalism to develop in the Balkans was the movement of Romanticism that emerged in Germany during the late eighteenth century and quickly spread to the rest of the continent (and beyond). The nations that embraced Romantic ideology were, for the most part, young, somewhat lacking in national pride, and in desperate need of a dignified collective identity. Even more crucially, they did not have the time and opportunity to “experiment” with nationalism in order to develop their own adequate philosophy of the “liberal” nation-state, as England and France (among others) had done. Thus, because of both sudden independence and the kind of “inferiority complex” that most of the countries of central and eastern Europe had as previously subjugated nations, they tended to embrace the more restrictive Romantic concept of nationalism rather than the more evolved, Enlightenment-driven version, typical of “older” nation-states. Romanticism called for the celebration of vernacular (domestic) values as an alternative to the dominant Western ideology of Enlightenment. Whereas Enlightenment political philosophers (such as John Locke) held the rights and happiness of the individual—viewed for the first time as the basic building block of society—paramount, their Romantic counterparts (such as J.G. Herder) stressed the preponderance of collective will in society. While the Enlightenment upheld universal values, Romanticism proclaimed the suprem- acy of culture-specific ones. For example, unlike Enlightenment philosophers who expressed themselves in the classical languages of Latin and Greek or other “trendy” languages (such as French), Romantics underscored the importance of native tongues and strove to preserve them.2

2 George W. White, Nationalism and Territory: Constructing Group Identities in Southeastern Europe (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2000), 52. While Enlightenment put emphasis on reason, Romanticism exalted in the spontaneity of human nature. While “Enlightened” philosophers preferred the urban environment as the Nationalism And Violence 35

It was the “founding father” of Romantic nationalism, Johann Gottfried Herder (1744–1803), who most significantly influenced the Balkan form of nationalism which rejected the tenets of universality and individual freedoms in favor of the glorification of domestic values and the enforcement of collective (the cultural majority’s) will. Herder’s own ideas were shaped by the cultural status quo of his native Germany during the second half of eighteenth century. In that period, the local aristocratic and artistic circles chose to fashion themselves according to French perceptions of refinement, casting off the vernacular language and folk traditions as crude, boorish, and embarrassing. To elevate the vernacular culture, Herder declared that the German-speaking peasants were the true keepers of ancient Germanic values. Putting ideology to practice, he undertook to record and preserve as much of the folklore as he personally could, charging other Germans with the same responsibility. For Herder, upholding the nation-state and preserving the national character went hand in hand, and he turned that ideal into the patriotic duty of every member of the national German polity.3 One of the leading current theoreticians of nationalism, Benedict Anderson, continues to analyze the emergence of nationalism in predominantly positive terms—namely, as a unifying force within the nation-state. Anderson’s signature argument is that nationalism, “nation-ness,” and national state—taken as synonyms—are “cultural artifacts”4 which ruling elites formulated in response to pressing socio-political needs at certain points in history to consolidate the masses under one leadership and under common ideology. But Anderson’s concept of the socially constructed nature of the phenomenon also condones the negative notion of nationalism as oppressive and violent ideology. On one hand, Anderson says, the very idea of nation-state evokes the image of (imagined) community, i.e., an entity of fraternity or comradeship based on equality among people from within. It is this notion of imagined (socially constructed) egalitarian fraternity among the (majority) members of the national state that makes people willing to fight and die for an ideal.5 On the other hand, the national ideal makes people willing to mutilate or kill for it. This proves to be particularly true for the people of those budding nation-states which just

locus par excellence for scientific thought, the Romantics declared rural settings as the ideal of human existence (ibid.). 3 William A. Wilson, “Herder, Folklore, and Romantic Nationalism,” Journal of Popular Culture 6 (1973): 819–35; White, 50–60. 4 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York: Verso, 1991), 4. 5 Ibid., passim. 36 chapter 2 emerged from increasingly oppressive foreign rule in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. For previously subjugated people, the ultimate goal of nationalism was the fulfillment of a national state of their own, regardless of means. As a result, diverging cultural groups that remained within the territories claimed by newly emerging nations, particularly such groups affiliated with former “oppressors,” became the first victims of a nationalism of forced assimilation or exclusion. For these fledgling entities, nationalism equated to absolute dominance of the ethno-cultural majority, rather than respect for individual freedoms and democracy. Violence against diverging groups, especially those perceived as threat to the nascent nation-state, was rife. Violence, consequently, became an integral part of the process of constructing and affirming the majority’s sense of collective self, or cultural identity, within the nation-state. In his book, Nationalism and Territory, George W. White explains how the concept of national identity is defined by place and territory. On a basic level, territory as a physical entity provides a group with natural resources for sustenance. But on a more symbolic level, territory becomes the embodiment of “motherland” (“fatherland”) that provides a collectivity of people with a sense of shared history and belonging.6 White further analyzes the significance of place and territory to national identity via three fundamental factors: (1) site identification,7 (2) landscape description,8 and (3) tenacity.9,10 It is precisely the “tenacity factor” that measures the degree to which a people is prepared to exert violence in order to defend (or take) given territory. Whatever the intensity of aggression (violence), protecting the perceived “homeland” is always expressed in positive terms, i.e., protecting, liberating, or fighting for “our” land, but never seizing, invading, or occupying it. Because place and territory, in a way, emerge as the essence of identity construction, the need to protect and exert control over the perceived “homeland” often results in conflict between different communities having aspirations to the same territory. The conflict arises between the

6 White, passim. 7 I.e., the location of national institutions such as seat of government, various religious and educational institutions, and historic sites (battlegrounds, places of birth, and events related to revered national figures). 8 I.e., natural formations such as mountains, rivers, valleys, lakes, and seas. 9 I.e., the intensity or strength of a group’s determination to protect or seize a place they perceive as “homeland.” 10 White, 6. Nationalism And Violence 37 protectors of the territory and its invaders; and whether one is a protector or occupier depends on one’s point of view entirely. According to White, the strong attachment to “homeland,” and the procliv- ity to defend it, is particularly pronounced in the Balkans. “In southeastern Europe,”11 he observes, “many nations feel that their identities have been violated because their territories have been continually transgressed by other nations. Not surprisingly, conflict has been persistent in this region.”12 Indeed, from the late nineteenth until mid-twentieth century, the southeast-European nations were young, unstable, relatively small, and only semi-independent. On at least four occasions, following momentous regional (and global) conflicts— the Russian-Turkish War of 1877–1878, the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913, the First World War, and the Second World War—these young nation-states were reduced to hapless spectators of their own partitioning by the powerful of the day.13 This was particularly true of the young Balkan nation-states, including Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, and Turkey. All of these countries incurred heavy human losses while fighting for the territories they perceived as “homeland” only to have it redistributed at the will of the politically dominant nations.14 In this sense, White properly concludes that the new nation-states of southeastern Europe repeatedly felt their sense of identity and security violated as a result of the constant interference of outside forces. This reality of helplessness generated fear and mistrust within these nation- states. Henceforth, they embarked on an ideology of nationalism meant to ensure the political dominance of the culturally prevalent majority—or at least of those who ruled on the majority’s behalf—at all cost, without much regard for individual liberties. Thus, the original Western idea of liberal nationalism was gradually supplanted by an ideology of violence as the nation-state phenomenon swept into the Balkans by the late nineteenth century. In the light of this nationalism-of-violence idea, my argument is that, while the concept of nationalism, notably in older nation-state regimes, may have been concerned with citizens’ (individuals’) rights and popular cohesion, in the case of younger and previously subjugated countries nationalism remained by nature more antagonizing than unifying of its national citizenry. The ultimate agenda

11 White’s notion of “southeast Europe” includes Hungary, Romania, and Serbia, while my own mostly refers to the Balkan nations which I associate with Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, (European) Turkey, and others. 12 White, 6. 13 The Western powers (England, France, Germany, Italy, USA, etc.) and Russia—later, the Soviet Union—for the most part. 14 For more details, read further in the chapter. 38 chapter 2 of the nationalism of violence was to consolidate territory and national identity in a union of congruence and indivisibility. The fledgling nations of the Balkans at the turn of twentieth century tended to be more concerned with securing the dominance of the ethno-religious majority vis-à-vis former rulers and affiliated with them local segments of the nation, rather than with observing the liberties of citizens. The politics of violence these new nations often exerted took many forms, including purging or forced assimilation of religiously, ethnically, or linguistically different groups within the national community. However, while established national polities like the afore-mentioned England and France, among others, were long past violence in dealing with their diverse citizens, these new nation-states were just embarking on this road. As Anthony W. Marx effectively posits, nationalism as a political process was initially rooted in exclusion regardless of where it occurred—Western or Eastern Europe, Asia, Africa, or the Americas.15 In other words, each nation- state began its nation-making by excluding (or coercing into assimilation) certain minorities from citizenship which they either could not or did not want to assimilate. But, in addition to exclusion, ruling elites also resorted to violent assimilation to enforce, solidify, and maintain uniformity among the people of the nation-state they controlled. Exclusion and integration (inclusive of forced assimilation), therefore, became two sides of the same process of nation- making, wherein the two could operate independently or jointly. In the sense that assimilation of diverging groups proved crucial to the successful consolidation of every early nation-state, and subsequently to that nation’s continuing process of popular solidarity, ruling elites generally attempted to assimilate such groups, including by force. Ultimately, the use of one or another form of violence in achieving national cohesion seems to have been a constant in the process of nation-making, especially in the Balkans. In the sense that nation-states have utilized violence in the name of territorial and cultural consolidation, I propose the following premise of nationalism that would become operational within such previously subjugated nations as Bulgaria, in regard to one or more of their differing minorities like the Pomaks: (1) Nationalism in a previously subjugated nation originates in exclusion or forced assimilation of dissimilar minorities as a way to affirm sovereignty. (2) The policy of exclusion or assimilation is particularly directed at communities affiliated with the former “oppressor” in some way. (3) Nationalism in such

15 Anthony W. Marx, Faith in Nation: Exclusionary Origins of Nationalism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), passim. Nationalism And Violence 39 a newly independent nation asserts identity that distinguishes it from the former “oppressor” in terms of religion, language, race, and/or ethnicity, whereby, (4) in the process of nation-making, the nation-state’s majority glori- fies its own (imagined) identity and denigrates that of the “oppressor.” (5) If the divergent groups share identity traits with the dominant cultural community in the nation such as language, race, or religion, the efforts are directed toward assimilating these minorities rather than excluding them; and (6) the more closely shared such traits are, the more likely the attempted assimilation will be. As a rule, however, (7) divergent groups, affiliated with former “oppressors” in whatever ways, are generally kept in check and treated with a degree of suspicion at all times, regardless of shared ties. This chapter studies the pokrŭstvane of the Pomaks in Bulgaria at the height of the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913 in the context of nationalist violence. The Balkan Wars formed a crucial period, when the nascent Bulgarian nation-state was still in the process of intensive territorial and cultural consolidation following five centuries of Ottoman-Islamic domination. It is critical to stress at this point that, in the process of analysis, I do not attempt to denigrate nationalism’s consolidating power, nor do I suggest that there is some inherent Balkan predisposition to violence. In fact, as Maria Todorova has already brilliantly put it, the Balkan peoples “certainly have no monopoly over barbarity [i.e., violence],” as generally implied by previously prevalent discourses.16 Instead, I intend to point out that violence is inherent in the definition and essence of nationalism regardless of where it takes place. However, nationalism’s aggressive nature has tended to be more pronounced in young and previously subjugated nation-states, largely because of their immediate need to survive. Precisely such is the case of the new Balkan states at the turn of the twentieth century. Ruling elites there generally pressured certain diverging segments of society into assimilation (and its milder connotation, integration) to forge and strengthen national unity. However, when violence took place, the result was often the opposite of the intended: namely, involuntary alienation and (self-)exclusion replaced cohesive inclusion. The historical situation of the Pomaks in Bulgaria is markedly a case in point. There have been at least three major attempts to coerce the Bulgarian-speaking Muslims into violent religious and/or cultural assimilation since Bulgaria’s independence of 1878: the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913, the pokrŭstvane of 1938–1944, and the vŭzhroditelen protses of the 1960s and 1970s. While the two pokrŭstvane affairs were in essence religious conversion, the vŭzhroditelen protses was religious suppression and

16 Maria Todorova, Imagining the Balkans (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 6. 40 chapter 2 compulsory substitution of the Pomak Turkish-Arab names with Christian- Bulgarian ones by the atheistic communist regime (1944–1989).17 In this opening chapter, I specifically focus on the 1912–1913 Christianization as the first comprehensive, forced assimilation of the Pomaks, which took place at the zenith of Bulgaria’s struggle for self-determination.

The Pomaks

The Balkan Wars of 1912–1913 were a critical period for Bulgaria. The nascent nation-state was still in the process of intensive territorial and cultural consolidation following five centuries of Ottoman domination. The enormous territorial expansion during the First Balkan War incorporated new and significant Muslim population into Bulgaria, most of which spoke Slavic (Bulgarian) language. Even after the loss of the Second Balkan War, Bulgaria held on to most of the Rhodope Mountains, a territory compactly settled by Slavic-speaking Muslims (Pomaks). To legitimize its claim over these freshly acquired Ottoman territories, Bulgaria’s first order of business following the conquest was to proclaim the Pomaks “Bulgarian,” based on language commonality, and to attempt to convert them to Orthodox Christianity. The Balkan Wars’ pokrŭstvane marked the beginning of a sustained assimilation of Pomaks in Bulgaria. Since the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913, the state-endorsed historiography has maintained that the Pomaks descend from Christian Bulgarians, forcibly converted to Islam by the Ottoman Turks somewhere between the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. In five centuries of Ottoman rule in the Balkans, however, many adopted Islam voluntarily for both personal convic- tion and socio-political gains. Still, historians are yet to determine authoritatively and conclusively how or when the Pomaks of the Rhodope Mountains became Muslims.18 This dispute over the Pomak cultural identity continues to

17 For details on the pokrŭstvane of 1938–1944 and the vŭzhroditelen protses, see chapters three and four. 18 For evidence of (voluntary) conversion to Islam, see Anton Minkov, Conversion to Islam in the Balkans (Leiden: Brill, 2004). See also Maria Todorova, “Conversion to Islam as a Trope in Bulgarian Historiography,” in Balkan Identities: Nation and Memory, ed. Maria Todorova (New York: New York University Press, 2004), 129–57; Maria Todorova, “Identity (Trans) formation among Bulgarian Muslims” (Location: Global, Area, and International Archive, 1998), at: http://escholarship.org/uc/item/8k7168bs. Accessed November 20, 2009; Ulf Brunnbauer, “Histories and Identities: Nation State and Minority Discourses—The Case of the Bulgarian Pomaks,” (Karl-Franzens-University of Graz, 1997). Available at www-gewi.kfunigraz.ac.at/csbsc/ulf/pomak_identities.htm. Accessed November 30, 2009; Nationalism And Violence 41 pose problems for the community. The official political discourse is one of actively discouraging the Muslim Rhodopeans from pursuing a cultural image of their own because of the presumption that, as offspring of converted Bulgarians, they are part of the Bulgarian ethnicity and, hence, cannot have a separate heritage. The double standard of publicly commemorating the nation’s triumph over the “dark” Ottoman past, while omitting the nation- state’s own violence against its Muslim population has heightened the Pomaks’ (and Turks’) sense of cultural dispossession in Bulgaria. The status quo is further exacerbated by the strongly subjective and divisive language of the official historiography, describing everything Bulgarian (hence Orthodox Christian) as “sacred” and “inherently good,” and most things Muslim (hence Ottoman and Turkish) as “immoral” and “backward.” Consequently, the academic credibility of some works treating Pomak issues, especially from the communist era (1944–1989), is seriously undermined by the high degree of politization and nationalistic propaganda in the analysis. Thus, for instance, the statement about the Pomak forced conversion to Islam is extensively grounded on the chronicle of one Priest Methody Draginov, who authored it sometime during the late seventeenth century, when the alleged mass Islamization was taking place. However, some of Bulgaria’s most renowned nationalist writers such as Nikolay Haytov, who makes references to the document, recognize that the so-called “Historical Diary” has been long lost to history, and that the only evidence of its existence are surviving passages, reportedly copied by dedicated patriots.19 Ulf Brunnbauer, however, directly dismisses the chronicle as “a fake” and goes on to specify that “it was a common practice [in communist Bulgaria] not to quote original sources, but to take them uncritically from other authors[,] [whereby] [o]ne author after the other perpetuated the quotation of the source without the slightest attempt at verification.”20 Maria Todorova, for her part, authoritatively argues that the chronicle is a nineteenth-century “creation” of Stefan Zakhariev, with possible basis in some earlier works. In support of her conclusion, Todorova cites the

Antonina Zhelyazkova, Bozhidar Aleksiev, and Zhorzheta Nazurska, Myusyulmanskite obshtnosti na Balkanite i v Bulgaria (Sofia, Bulgaria: IMIR, 1997); Vera Mutafchieva, “The Turk, the Jew and the Gypsy,” in Relations of Compatibility and Incompatibility between Christians and Muslims in Bulgaria, ed. Antonina Zhelyazkova (Sofia, Bulgaria: PHARE, 1994). 19 Nikolay Haytov, “Smolyan: Tri vŭrha v srednorodopskata istoria” (Sofia, Bulgaria: Izdatelstvo na Natsionalnia Sŭvet na Otechestvenia Front, 1962), 6–13. 20 Ulf Brunnbauer, “Histories and Identities: Nation State and Minority Discourses—The Case of the Bulgarian Pomaks” (Karl-Franzens-University of Graz, 1997). Available at www-gewi.kfunigraz.ac.at/csbsc/ulf/pomak_identities.htm. Accessed November 30, 2007. 42 chapter 2 careful authenticity analysis of the historian Iliya Todorov who judges the chronicle to be inauthentic on the grounds of linguistic and historical discrepancy.21 In conjecture to Stefan Zakhariev’s motives to create a forgery, Todorova observes:

He [Zakhariev] was working in a period when the cultural struggle for emancipation among the Bulgarians had reached a critical degree, and he was totally engrossed in this struggle. The 1860s, in particular, saw the culmination of the ecclesiastical conflict with the Greek Constantinople Patriarchate, and all intellectual efforts were directed at proving the “rights” of the Bulgarians to an independent church. . . . [An] independent church for the Bulgarians meant independent national existence. . . . It was also a time when history was the foremost legitimizer of nationhood in terms of “historic” versus “non-historic” nations. Zakhariev himself lamented in 1860s [that] “we do not have antiquities from which we can explore our bygone deeds so as to put together a detailed and true history of our past life.”22

Forgery or not, Bulgarian historiography continues to formally describe the Pomaks as “Bulgarian Mohammedans” or “Bulgarian Muslims” to reflect the

21 Todorov dismisses the chronicle as a fake based on three main reasons. First, the language of the document “was too remote from the language of seventeenth century documents,” and, moreover, the language “reflected nineteenth century forms and conventions.” Second, he determined that there are apparent factual discrepancies between the chronicle and Ottoman government documentation from the same time period. According to Ottoman sources, the Chepino Valley villages—the arena of purported Islamization— were part of a vakıf (charitable religious foundation in Islam)” from the mid-1500s onwards, not a “voynuk ([communities of] peasants, serving as soldiers in an auxiliary military corps of the Ottoman army, usually recruited from among the Bulgarians),” as the chronicle describes them. Third, according to Iliya Todorov, there is a clear anachronism in the chronicle stemming from the strong “anti-Greek feeling emanating from the document.” The Bulgarian struggle for religious independence from the Greek Orthodox Church and the fervent anti-Greek sentiment, the author justly stipulates, only date back to the middle of the nineteenth century, and certainly not to any period of the eighteenth century, when the supposed conversion took place. (See Maria Todorova, “Conversion to Islam as a Trope in Bulgarian Historiography, Fiction and Film,” in Balkan Identities: Nation and Memory, ed. Maria Todorova (New York: New York University Press, 2004), 129–57). 22 Maria Todorova, “Conversion to Islam as a Trope in Bulgarian Historiography, Fiction and Film,” in Balkan Identities: Nation and Memory, ed. Maria Todorova (New York: New York University Press, 2004), 134–135. Nationalism And Violence 43 institutionalized viewpoint that they are descendants of Bulgarian Christians, whom the Ottomans Islamized by force.23 As the Bulgarian historian Vera Mutafchieva posits, the violence-ridden “forced Islamization” thesis has played a prominent role in the national history and folklore, being the subject of rather emotional interpretations by generations of Bulgarian historians.24 Even though, in recent years, many Bulgarian academics have at least con- ceded the possibility of voluntary conversion, the strongly negative “forced Islamization” thesis still dominates the national narrative. Whatever the case regarding Pomak passage into Islam, the Bulgarian authorities and the Bulgarian Orthodox Church effectively used the “forced Islamization” claim to impose another conversion on the community—this time to Christianity—under the cover of the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913. Even though the proclaimed aspiration of the pokrŭstvane was to bring the Pomaks back to the religion of their forefathers, most certainly its real objective was to consolidate the fledgling Bulgarian nation both territorially and culturally, thereby affirming the state’s sovereignty and its claim over the newly acquired territories of Thrace, the Rhodopes, and eastern Macedonia—all with sizeable Pomak population. Thus, the act of pokrŭstvane was essentially a way to assert sovereignty by the forced assimilation of the Pomaks as a divergent minority in the fledgling nation-state of Bulgaria for two fundamental reasons: First, of all minority groups within the new state, the elites perceived the Pomaks to be the most closely associated with the national majority by language and ethnicity.25

23 The term “Islamization” has two important connotations in the language of Bulgarian nationalism: “forced” and “voluntary.” The “forced Islamization” thesis promotes the idea that the formerly Christian population of the Rhodopes accepted Islam during different periods between the 1400s and 1800s through various forms of coercion. One way of conversion to Islam reportedly occurred through the institution of slavery whereby the invading Ottomans turned part of the subjugated indigenous population into slaves, who were subsequently emancipated and given land upon becoming Muslims (the atik/muatik practice). Another form was by taking local women for wives, who were then converted to Islam. A third yet way, much touted by Bulgarian historians, was the forced recruitment of Christian boys for training and service in the yeniçeri ( janissary) institution (from Turkish “yeni çeri,” “new soldier”), elite Ottoman military units (the devşirme practice) (Mutafchieva, 9–10). 24 Mutafchieva, 10. 25 For example, the ethnic Turks, who commonly speak Turkish language, were not to be directly assimilated, according to the internal instructions of the pokrŭstvane. A letter of Maxim, Archbishop of the Plovdiv Diocese, to the Orthodox clergy, in charge of the pokrŭstvane of Haskovo, Stanimaka, Pazardzhik, Panagyurishte, and Peshtera, reads: 44 chapter 2

Second, the Pomaks were also affiliated with the former Ottoman-Turkish “oppressor” by the religion of Islam, and that was a problem. The nation’s ruling elite, therefore, not only considered the assimilation of the Pomaks desirable and necessary, but also possible based on shared-language claims. The resolve to action by the young country was additionally bol- stered by the Romantic perception of language as the defining characteristic of national identity. Although in the multiethnic Ottoman Empire language was not of essence to identity, in the era of Romanticism language became a major driving force in the subjugated people’s struggle to define themselves, along with ethnicity, religion, and shared history. When Romantic ideology began to take hold in the Balkans in the early nineteenth century, developing well into the twentieth century, vernacular languages indeed became a prominent factor in claiming territories and building identities among the new nations.26 It was on the premise of common language that Bulgaria was able to validate its claim over most of the Rhodope Mountains after the Balkan Wars. Complicit with Romantic nationalism, the Slavic-speaking Pomaks were recast as “pure-blood” Bulgarians who spoke the “purest” Bulgarian language and preserved the “truest” Bulgarian traditions. Initially, Bulgaria’s Christian majority perceived the Pomaks merely as “Turks.” In confirmation of this, Maria Todorova writes:

The social context for this [the promotion of the “forced Islamization” thesis] was the process of nation-building, specifically the attempts at integration and homogenization of the population. It concerned first the Bulgarian-speaking Muslim population (. . . Pomaks), and its place in the newly independent state which at first did not attempt to integrate it but treated it as indistinguishable from the larger Muslim group. In all cen- suses in the late nineteenth century (1880, 1885, 1888) the Bulgarian- speaking Muslims were entered under the heading “Turks.” It was only in the 1905 census that a separate group—Pomaks—appeared. Beginning with the 1890s but especially during the 1920s and 1930s a sustained campaign in the press urged public opinion to discriminate between religious

The conversion of pure Turks is not absolutely prohibited. But they can only be baptized if they have wished to do so, and only after they have partly learned the [Bulgarian] language. Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 115, page 464. 26 White, 180. Nationalism And Violence 45

and ethnic allegiance, and to accept the Pomaks as part of the Bulgarian nation. This idea was most intensely espoused by small educated elite among the Pomaks[.]27

Indeed, within the Ottoman Empire, prior to the rise of nationalism, language and ethnicity were factors with little meaning. The existing millet system in the empire categorized all Ottoman subjects into semi-autonomous religious communities (millets) which were free to organize and carry out their religious, educational, and legal affairs with their own resources. This status quo enabled the millets to preserve their religious and/or ethnic identities under the leadership of their established religious institutions. Thus, all Eastern Orthodox Christians—Greeks, Bulgarians, Serbs, and others—were categorized as Millet- i-Rum, i.e., people belonging to the Eastern Orthodox Church. The Muslim millet (Umma), on the other hand, consisted of the totality of Muslims in the Ottoman Empire (and beyond) with no reference to defined territory, language, or race. The latter held a status of superiority over the non-Muslim millets, the rayah (or raya).28 Since language in the Ottoman Empire was not a basis for identity prior to the rise of Romantic nationalism, the young Balkan nations, freshly out of sultanic grip, struggled to define themselves. In Bulgaria, patriotic literati such as Georgy Rakovsky, Petko Slaveykov, Lyuben Karavelov, and the Miladinov Brothers, similarly to Herder in Germany earlier, “began to study the history of the Slavic languages, to compile bibliographies, to write grammars, to collect archeological remnants and medieval manuscripts, to publish folksongs and fairy tales, to collect artifacts with ethnographic value and exhibit them in museums.” In the period 1850–1900, these intellectuals helped establish universities where a range of academic disciplines were taught, including political history, “philology (the historical study of language and literature), ‘national’

27 Todorova, 138–139. 28 White, 180. White, for instance, writes: “All Eastern Orthodox Christians were the same to the Ottomans. The Ottomans made no attempts to distinguish one Orthodox Christian from another, whether they were Russians, Bulgarians, Serbian, Greek, or others. Ethnicity was irrelevant, and modern nationhood had no meaning. (Ibid.)” Also Christopher Cviic, Remaking the Balkans (New York: Council of Foreign Relations Press, 1991), 7. 46 chapter 2 folklore (its literary and linguistic history), and traditional culture (clothing, architecture, food, holidays)[.]”29 Nor were the Bulgarian patriots alone in promoting language commonality as a cause for territorial and cultural consolidation. In fact, their Slavic counterparts from already independent Serbia first immersed into Herderian activism towards strengthening Serbian nationalism. Like Herder in Germany, the intellectual Vuk Stefanoviċ Karadžiċ (1787–1864) laid the foundations of national identity in Serbia. He classified everyone who used the štokavian dialect (spoken by the Serbs as well) as a Serb by applying the Romantic notion that nations were defined by language.30 “Because some štokavian speakers were Roman Catholic,” White notes, “Karadžic labeled them as Roman Catholic Serbs, and because some štokavian speakers were Muslims, Karadžic classified them as Muslim Serbs [largely Bosnians]. Significantly many of these people whom Karadžic classified as Serbs did not consider themselves to be Serbs.”31 Just as Karadžic in Serbia classified the Slavic-speaking Bosnians as “Serbs,” the patriotic intelligentsia in Bulgaria, including some Pomaks, promoted the community of Slavic-speaking Muslims as “forcibly Islamized Bulgarians.” Unlike the Slavic-speaking Muslims in former Yugoslavia today, however, who have clearly set themselves apart as Bosnians (or Bosniaks), largely following the bloody conflicts of the 1990s, the Pomak identity in Bulgaria continues to be hotly debated. The Christianization of 1912–1913 is the first case study in this book because it was the first comprehensive religious conversion of Pomaks in Bulgaria that set the precedent for a sustained assimilation process reverberating in Bulgaria’s cultural and political discourse to this day. During the Balkans Wars and via the pokrŭstvane, the Bulgarian nation asserted an identity which distinguished it from its former “Turkish oppressor” in the strongest terms possible. The language of Bulgarian nationalism described everything “Christian” and “Bulgarian” as “glorious” and “liberating,” while everything “Islamic” and “Turkish” as “barbaric” and “oppressive.” The Pomaks, as newly imagined Bulgarians, to borrow from Anderson (above), could have nothing to do with Islam, so their conversion to Christianity became a pressing concern for the Bulgarian authorities, consolidating a nation-state amidst war. Despite the fervent proclamations of kinship and brotherhood, though, the ruling elites

29 Alexander Kiossev, “The Dark Intimacy: Maps, Identities, Acts of Identification,” in Balkan as Metaphor: Between Globalization and Fragmentation, ed. Dusan I. Bjelic and Obrad Savic (Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2002), 175. 30 White, 180. 31 Ibid., 182. Nationalism And Violence 47 continued to discriminate against the Pomaks and treat them in such a way that alienated, rather than integrated, them into the Bulgarian nation-state.

War and Pokrŭstvane (Conversion) in 1912–1913

The pokrŭstvane was one of the hardest moments for the Pomaks as citizens of the new Christian state of Bulgaria. As a divergent group, affiliated with the former Ottoman “oppressor” by religion and as a Bulgarian-speaking minority, they were immediately singled out for assimilation within the broader context of territorial, political, and cultural consolidation of the country. The Balkan Wars provided an “opportune moment,” in the words of one church official, for the brutal business of religious conversion, which the state authorities intended to explain, if post-war implicated, as a sad concomitant of war.32 The available records from the 1912–1913 Christianization of the Pomaks include protocols from regular and ad-hoc sessions of the Holy Synod (the highest ecclesiastical authority) of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, reports of missionaries, priest, and teachers who were part of the regular conversion missions, as well as letters and reports of private individuals, or religious- and state officials who directly enforced the pokrŭstvane.33 The combination of written evidence, photographic imagery, and surviving oral histories unequivocally reveal that not only all levels of state and church authorities were implicated in the pokrŭstvane, but also that insurgent bands and the army “facilitated” the conversion through abuse and killing of Pomak civilians. According to a document, at least 150,000 Pomaks in the Rhodopes alone were affected by the Christianization.34 The total number, however, is perhaps

32 Ibid., Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 13. This phrase is used by Jeromonk Pavel, Protosingel of the Plovdiv Diocese, in a letter to Stoyu Shishkov from 24 November 1912. The excerpt reads: “Can we count on a more or less en mass conversion of the Pomaks (in the Rhodopes)? What do you think would be the best time to start proclaiming them in the Christian faith and baptism: right now or after our relations with Turkey have been reestablished? I am afraid that if we wait until the conclusion of the peace treaty, this opportune moment would be irrevocably lost [emphasis added].” Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 52к, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 818, pages 1–3. 33 Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., passim. 34 Ibid., Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 157–171. Confidential report sent to Maxim, Archbishop of Plovdiv, and to several ministers of the Bulgarian government by a civilian committee from Pazardzhik engaged in the conversion of Pomaks in the Chepino valley, 22 February 1913. Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67 к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 107, pages 79–85. 48 chapter 2 more than double, because a sizeable Muslim population resided in the Rhodopes, Thrace, and Macedonia—territories which Bulgaria held between the fall of 1912 and the fall of 1913. It was precisely at this time when the authorities carried out the pokrŭstvane.35 Although the exact number of affected population remains unknown, it is safe to conclude that about 300,000 Slavic- speaking Muslims suffered the abuse of regular troops, church authorities, and paramilitary bands for the duration of the conversion. Records set the beginning of the campaign around October 1912, which peaked in the first three months of 1913, and gradually subsided by the fall of 1913 when Bulgaria conclusively lost the Second Balkan War. The outbreak of the Balkan Wars, however, did not happen in vacuum. Rather, the conflict came about as a direct result of historical processes taking place in the context of European nationalism and the Balkan people’s aspiration to emulate the nation-state example of Western powers.

1 The Balkan Wars Effectively influenced by the ideal of nation-state, especially following the successful unifications of Italy and Germany by the early 1870s, the Christian populations of the nineteenth-century Balkan Peninsula revolted against their imperial masters almost in common agreement. In the spirit of all-pervading agitation in the Ottoman realm, the Bulgarians rebelled in April 1876. The brutal suppression of the uprising generated international sympathy and support for the cause of Bulgarian independence. Taking advantage of the crisis, Tsarist Russia declared war on the Ottoman Empire in 1877, partially in support of its Orthodox Slavic brethren’s struggle for independence and partially in fulfillment of its own ambitions for dominance in the Balkans. The Treaty of San Stefano of March 1878 concluded the Russian-Turkish War and created a large Bulgarian nation-state in the heart of the peninsula. The combination of a strong Bulgaria and potent Russian influence in the region, however, did not square well with the interests of Great Britain, France, Germany, Austro-Hungary, and Italy. This new nation-state, under the profound sway of Russia, incorporated territory that stretched from the Danube

35 According to Stoyu Shishkov, who was directly involved in the conversion and later published a book about them, the Pomaks inhabiting European Turkey on the eve of the Balkan Wars (the early fall of 1912) numbered 400,000 people and were distributed in 500 towns and villages. By regions, the distribution was the following: Edirne (Odrin)—131,455 people in 207 towns/villages; Thessalonica (Solun)—98,297 people in 190 towns/villages; Bitolya—36,669 people in 93 towns/villages; Skopje—13,114 people in 23 towns/villages. Stoyu Shishkov, Balgaro-mohamedanite (Pomatsite) (Plovdiv, Bulgaria: 1936), 34. Nationalism And Violence 49

River in the north to the Aegean Sea in the south, dwarfing all its neighbors except—what was left of—the Ottoman Empire. Responding to a general sense of urgency, Otto von Bismarck, first chancellor of Germany, convened a congress in Berlin in 1878, where the powerful of the day duly partitioned Bulgaria, reducing it to a hapless principality under the suzerainty of the Ottoman Empire. Most of southern Bulgaria, better known as Eastern Rumelia, became a semi-independent province under Ottoman authority, while Macedonia (west of Eastern Rumelia) was restored to direct sultanic rule. By partitioning the country, the Berlin Congress portended disaster for Bulgaria. So powerful was the sense of loss among the Bulgarian nation that in coming years it stimulated the emergence of an especially aggressive nationalism. Bulgaria’s neighbors Serbia, Greece, and Montenegro felt similarly cheated by the standing Berlin Treaty.36 As the party most aggrieved by the Berlin agreement, Bulgaria was the first to act against it. In September 1885, the Bulgarian Principality unilaterally proclaimed its unification with Eastern Rumelia. Because none of the Western powers took direct action to enforce the Berlin decision, they implicitly vali- dated the unification. Unable to reverse the course of events on its own, the Ottoman Empire had formally recognized united Bulgaria by 1908. This development notwithstanding, the emerging Balkan nation-states still felt victimized by the Berlin Congress of 1878. They all had aspirations to territories remaining within the Ottoman Empire. The Bulgarians desired Thrace, the Greeks coveted Aegean islands, and the Serbs and Montenegrins aspired to annex Bosnia-Herzegovina and parts of Albania respectively. All four, however, harbored ambitions to dominate Macedonia, a fertile region in the heart of the Balkan Ottoman Empire. Thus, by the first decade of the twentieth century, Macedonia had become the pivot of territorial ambitions for the most powerful Balkan nations.37 Apart from common territorial interests, one particular political development, according to Richard Hall, compelled Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece and Montenegro to work together against their common Muslim adversary. That spark came from the Young Turk revolution and the Ottoman Empire’s own attempt at espousing the ideology of nationalism. In July 1908, a cabal of junior officers staged a coup d’état in Constantinople, seizing control of government and immediately launching political reforms. The group called itself Committee

36 Richard C. Hall, The Balkan Wars, 1912–1913: Prelude to the First World War (New York: Routledge, 2000), 1–21; R.J. Crampton, Bulgaria (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 23–95. 37 Hall, 1–21; Crampton, 97–188. 50 chapter 2 for Unity and Progress, popularly known as the Young Turks ( Jön Türkler), and their prime objective was to unify Turkey and to prevent its further disintegration. In resonance with the Christian nationalists in the Balkans, the Young Turks sought to instill a sense of Ottoman identity among the various peoples of the empire. To prevent a further loss of territories to rebellious subjects, however, they set out to reform the army. The Young Turk revolution had a ripple effect in the Balkans and beyond, causing nation-states and empires to be nervous about achieving their territorial ambitions at the expense of the Ottoman realm. Whereas Bulgaria, Serbia, and Greece feared their ability to withstand a potentially more powerful Ottoman military, the Habsburg and Romanov dynasties had aspirations, respectively, to control Bosnia- Herzegovina and the Straits of Bosphorus. As Hall aptly observes, “[t]he Young Turk revolt and the celebration of Ottoman nationhood raised concerns in the Balkan capitals [and beyond] that the Balkan populations in a reformed Turkey would be less susceptible to their nationalistic blandishments.”38 Both Bulgaria and Serbia felt the need to act together in defense of their shared interests before the Young Turks’ reforms could produce any meaningful results. Russia, for its part, desired a Balkan alliance against the Austrians and the Ottomans in order to bolster its own position on the peninsula. Thus pressured by nationalist concerns, on one side, and by Russia, on another, Bulgaria and Serbia finally signed an agreement in March 1912. Bulgaria and Greece agreed upon a separate treaty of cooperation two months later. Whereas Bulgaria took care to formalize its alliance with Montenegro as with Serbia and Greece, the relationship among the later nations stood largely on oral agreements. This uncertain and complex political dealing, then, set the foundation for the Balkan League that would fight the Ottoman Empire in the First Balkan War.39 Thus, in the fall of 1912, shared interests of territorial expansion induced the four nascent Balkan nations to fight their common enemy, Turkey—the natural successor of the disintegrating Ottoman Empire. On October 4, the so-called Balkan League declared war on Turkey, beginning the First Balkan War. The alliance—albeit an uneasy one—soon paid off, and by the spring of 1913 Turkey was defeated. As a result, most of the European territories of the former Ottoman Empire passed into the hands of the victorious foursome. Quarrels over territorial distribution, however, soon broke out among Bulgaria,

38 Hall, 7. For details on the Young Turks and Turkish nationalism, see Erik Jan Zürcher, The Young Turk Legacy and Nation Building: From the Ottoman Empire to Ataturk’s Turkey (London: I.B. Tauris, 2010). 39 Hall, 1–21; Crampton, 150–219. Nationalism And Violence 51

Serbia, Montenegro, and Greece. Bulgaria harbored ambitions to annex the former Ottoman provinces of Macedonia and Thrace, where significant Bulgarian-speaking population lived. But this ran counter to the aspirations of the other three countries, particularly Serbia and Greece which sought the same lands. As the territorial disagreements escalated, Bulgaria invaded Thrace, eastern Macedonia, and the Rhodopes, immediately imposing military control over them.40 By the summer of 1913, Bulgarian troops occupied the better part of the former Ottoman territories on the Balkan Peninsula. Unwilling to accept this dominion, on June 16, Serbia, Montenegro, and Greece declared war on Bulgaria, thus, initiating the Second Balkan War. While Greece attacked from the south, Serbia and Montenegro advanced from the west. Completing the vice that squeezed Bulgaria, Romania and Turkey opened fronts to the north and southeast respectively. Even though Bulgaria did not hold the provinces of Macedonia and Thrace for more than a few months, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, actively assisted by the army and paramilitary formations, succeeded in launching a massive and violent conversion of the Pomak population within these territories. These provinces (Thrace and Macedonia) were home to a sizeable Pomak population (Table 2–1) who soon found themselves part of a brand new nation. The Pomak stronghold, the Rhodope Mountains, fell into Bulgarian hands, too. The Treaty of Constantinople of September 29, 1913, not only ended the Balkan Wars, but also reaffirmed the annexation of the (greater part of the) Rhodope mountain range to Bulgaria. This was a turning point in the life of the prevalently Muslim Rhodopean population, the Pomaks, who changed citizenship almost overnight (from Ottoman to Bulgarian). They spoke Bulgarian as their mother tongue, but unlike Bulgaria’s majority, professed Islam rather than Orthodox Christianity as their religion.

2 The Pokrŭstvane All areas with heavily concentrated Pomak population were violent combat zones for the duration of the Balkan Wars. The civilian population consisting mainly of women, children, and elderly men (the Turkish army had conscripted the younger males), bore not only the brunt of war and an unusually cold winter, but also suffered the abuse of religious conversion. Between October 1912 and September 1913, the advancing and retreating Bulgarian troops and paramilitary bands plundered and burned hundreds of Pomak

40 Crampton, 190–219. See also The Carnegie Report, 49–70. 52 chapter 2

Table 2-1 Pomak Population within the Provinces of Thrace and Macedonia at the Time of the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913

Province of Thrace

Number of towns, Number of District villages, and hamlets people

Ahı Çelebi 32 35,000 Dövlen 30 26,810 Egridere 24 20,000 Darıdere 26 16,990 Gümürcina 34 10,625 Xanti 6 4,500 Koşukavak 13 3,757 Soflu(?) 7 3,570 Baba Eski 5 3,385 Hayrobolu 7 3,205 Üzünküprü 11 1,200 Total 195 129,04241

Province of Macedonia

Number of towns, Number of District villages, and hamlets people

Nevrokop 74 26,962 Drama 31 11,179 Kavala 6 2,710 Razlog 7 8,870 Petriç 3 865 Melnik 3 700 Eski Cumaya 6 3,900 Doyran 2 1,270 Total 132 56,45642

41 Shishkov, 32–34. 42 Ibid., 30–31. Nationalism And Violence 53 villages, turning thousands of people into refugees. Waves of Muslim civilians pressed southward, following the withdrawing Ottoman army, after having abandoned all their earthly possessions. The constant swap of territories between the warring parties, however, threw the civilian population into utter confusion and rendered it unable to decide whether to permanently stay or leave. Many of the Rhodopean Pomaks, who had originally fled, returned to their villages only to find themselves homeless and robbed of all food and livestock, in the middle of severe winter. Dispossessed, malnourished, and without basic medication, people soon succumbed to epidemics of typhoid, cholera, and scarlet fever. By January 1913, the new Bulgarian regime had launched a large-scale Christianization in the Rhodopes. In a letter to his friend Ivan Shishmanov of January 26, 1913, Stoyu Shishkov—a patriotic writer and fervent pokrŭstvane crusader—attested to the dismal position of the Pomak population:43

It has been a week since I am in this untamed and beautiful Tŭmrŭsh region [Middle Rhodopes]. I serve in the commission for aid distribution, and while I am witnessing exceptional and glorious historical events [the pokrŭstvane], I am also faced with unspeakable misery. Semi-clad, famished, and emaciated families of five to ten members live in cramped, half-destroyed shacks, with not even a tin can in sight for water and cooking. But they line before the cross, the gospel, and the holy water en mass, in acceptance of Christ, which should provide them with relief from fear and torment. I took a photographer with me. As missioners, we are trying to instill peace and comfort in this unfortunate population.44

In his capacity of a police commandant in the village of Ustovo (Middle Rhodopes), Shishkov stood at the core of Pomak Christianization in the Smolyan area. While his official function was to ensure that an orderly assumption of power was taking place in the region, his personal mission was to see to the successful conversion of the local Muslim population. Instead of merely applying brute force to that end, however—as it would usually happen— Shishkov was also concerned about the lasting impact of the conversion.

43 Note: When so indicated (in brackets), the information stems from the volume of original documents edited by Dr. Velichko Georgiev and Dr. Stayko Trifonov and titled Pokrŭstvaneto na Bulgarite Mohamedani 1912–1913 (Sofia, Bulgaria: Prof. Marin Drinov Publ., 1995), passim. 44 Dŭrzhaven arkhiv—Bulgarian Academy of Science, Fond 11к, Inventory 3, Archival Unit 1676, pages 2–3. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 65.) 54 chapter 2

Thus, in a statement of December 2, 1912, he expressed anxiety that the complete devastation of the region, after Bulgarian troops and Christian civilians swept through it, would adversely affect the pokrŭstvane. “Hungry and ragged women [refugees] are coming back to their torched villages,” he wrote. “All food, livestock, and movable property have already been stolen from them. . . . Since war and army mobilization prevented harvest, the crops are rotting under the rains. . . . The winter in the mountain is harsh, and . . . starvation is present in all its horror, wreaking sickness and death.” Quite apart from starvation, Shishkov worried that the rampant corruption and arbitrary violence against Muslim civilians would obstruct the conversion effort as well as the prospect of effectively administering control over the territory. “The whole country [here] is in a state of complete lawlessness,” he lamented in the same report. “Banditry and looting have reached unprecedented levels. The need for troops and administrative authority to intercept the situation is eminent.” As police commandant of Ustovo, Shishkov felt responsible for what was happening, yet, he did not have the resources to prevent it. Thus, the purpose of his report—just one of many—was to convince the higher authorities of the dire necessity to amend the situation in order to ensure the lasting effect of the pokrŭstvane and efficient government in the region. “The [Christian] posses and various such thugs roaming the area with the sole purpose of plunder must be disbanded, disarmed, and ordered back to their places of residence,” he proposed. “All Bulgarian [Christian] villages in the vicinity45 must be thor- oughly searched, for even the women there have partaken in the plunder of Pomak villages. . . . [Also,] a doctor is urgently needed to help prevent the outbreak of disease epidemics due to the horrific famine and poverty.”46 As one of the chief local executives of the pokrŭstvane, Stoyu Shishkov accounted for every development on the matter to the higher church authorities, among others. In one of his communications with Archbishop Maxim of Plovdiv, dated January 30, 1913, he reported how “out of the 33 villages [in the Smolyan region], 3,970 homes have been torched,” and how “several families are [now] crowding in a single room.” Shishkov’s biggest concern, however, continued to be that corrupt officials and marauding Christian bands could hamper “our holy mission” in the Rhodopes:

45 “. . . of Stanimaka, Ahı Çelebi, Darıdere, and Skeçe, and—above all—Chepelare, Shiroka Lŭka, Alamidere, Turyan, Arda, Raykovo, and Paşmaklı . . .” (ibid.) 46 Report on the Situation in the Districts of Ahı-Çelebi, Egridere, and Skeçe after the Bulgarian Troops Passed through the Region from 2 December 1912. Dŭrzhaven arkhiv- Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 121, pages 12–13. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 17–18.) Nationalism And Violence 55

[T]he Pomak population continues to be victimized by various thugs who arrive here from different places, go from village to village, attack the people in their homes and rob them of the last piece of clothing, implement or livestock; many engage in ugly acts of violating people’s dignity and honor. The terrified population takes everything timidly with no courage to complain, and there is no one to complain to anyway. Self- appointed tax collectors have plagued the villages of Beden, Trigrad, and some others, tormenting the population terribly. The very war government in Dövlen, on all levels, has been appallingly abusive of the population. I fear that after the relief commission leaves, the authorities themselves would rob the people of the little aid they’ve received. The state must not only stop these practices, but also must order an investigation into them, and punish those responsible with all the severity of the law. The state needs to appoint as regional administrators persons of moral integrity to take control of the anarchy. Without such measures our holy mission of bringing the Pomak population into the Christian faith is doomed to fail; the national prestige would be irreparably compromised, and the results would be devastating [emphasis added].47

Nor was Stoyu Shishkov alone in his reportage of misery, corruption, and abuse in the Rhodopes during the Balkan Wars. Orthodox Church clergy, sent to bap- tize the Pomak population, painted a picture in the same gloomy colors. Priest Dimitŭr Kutuev, a member of the conversion mission in the village of Yakoruda, delivered a particularly poignant message of children’s suffering to Archbishop Maxim on May 9, 1913:

The village of Babek has been burned by the bands . . . The population . . . is utterly poor, sick, and famished. The epidemics of disease have hit this area harder than any other. Small children are forced to travel to distant villages to beg; they come back to their sick families bringing them a meager something to eat. A number of starving and ragged children surrounded me here, one day, and with tears in their eyes, they begged: “Give us some bread, grandpa priest!” The picture of small, hungry, and tattered children with prematurely withered faces is horrible to behold. This one child begged me: “Give me some bread, grandpa priest, because I am hungry from earth to heaven.” Since this village was completely destroyed, no livestock and food has been left for

47 Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, pages 145–9. (Ibid., 88–91.) 56 chapter 2

this famished population. . . . In Babek, as well as in the neighboring hamlets, people die every day.48

Because of the heavy winter, lack of roads, and naturally difficult terrain, the Pomak villages in the Rhodopes were largely cut off from access by humanitarian agencies such as the Red Cross that distributed life-saving food and medical supplies. The Bulgarian authorities and the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, which channeled the supplies, used the aid provided by humanitarian organizations and foreign embassies as a method of inducing conversion. Thus, much of the initially declared “success” of the pokrŭstvane stemmed from the fact that the starving Pomak population was given food rations, some cash, and basic clothing in exchange of formal baptism.49

Figure 2-1 Map of the Rhodope Mountains in Bulgaria (Courtesy of Michael May)

48 Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 116, pages 239–241. (Ibid., 289.) 49 Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., passim. Nationalism And Violence 57

Whereas the Bulgarian Orthodox Church was formally in charge of the pokrŭstvane, the army, paramilitary formations, patriotic civilian organizations, local military governments, and private individuals rendered support to the conversion effort. The church dispatched special missions composed of church-appointed clergy and state-appointed educators to all the Pomak areas in the Rhodopes, Thrace, and Macedonia. Their task was twofold: (1) to turn the Pomaks into Christians and (2) to educate them in patriotism and national loyalty (Appendix 2.1). Whenever and wherever eloquence failed, the “crusaders” administered brute force to achieve the desired effect. From the volume of documents published under the editorship of Velichko Georgiev and Stayko Trifonov, it is clear that the Plovdiv Diocese of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, headed by Archbishop Maxim, played a pivotal role in the pokrŭstvane. This is understandable, since the territories most densely populated by Pomaks—the Rhodope Mountains, Thrace, and part of Macedonia— were under the jurisdiction of the Diocese of Plovdiv and Archbishop Maxim.50 Nor did the Bulgarian military authorities delay supporting the “holy mission.” As soon as Thrace, Macedonia, and the Rhodopes came under Bulgarian control, the pokrŭstvane began. While the campaign started in the fall of 1912 and continued through the summer, it peaked during the harshest winter months of January, February, and March, when the population was most vulnerable. Usually, conversions took place en mass. Soldiers would round up entire village populations and huddle them together in an open space, because there were no buildings sufficiently large to accommodate hundreds of people at once. Men, women, and children—by family—were forced to stand in line before one or more Orthodox priests for baptism. After receiving the sign of the cross from the priest(s), the (male) adults of each family would have their heads immersed in water while the children would be quickly sprinkled for reasons of efficiency. If their time and resources allowed, the “crusaders” would force Pomak converts—particularly elderly male heads of family—to eat a piece of pork as a final act of denouncing Islam, following which the baptizing priest(s) would formally proclaim them Christian. The Pomaks would next be required to make verbal declaration of rejecting Islam and accepting Christianity, whereafter they received new Bulgarian-Christian names (Figures 2-2, 2-3, and 2-4). To complete the humiliation, men were forced to surrender their fezzes (headdress) and put on hats with crucifixes affixed to them as a blatant reminder of their pokrŭstvane. Women, for their part, had to substitute

50 Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., passim. 58 chapter 2 the yashmak (a type of veil) for simple headscarves.51 With the population thus formally converted, each village mosque and mekteb (Muslim school)— provided they had survived the burning—would reopen as a church and Sunday school respectively. These two institutions, then, indoctrinated “the new Christians,” from children to adults, in “Christian virtues” and patriotic loyalty.52 In large part, the pokrŭstvane was conducted by Christian civilians from the Rhodopes or surrounding areas. This is abundantly clear from the lengthy “confidential” report of civilian patriots from Pazardzhik to the Holy Synod and Archbishop Maxim of Plovdiv, informing the latter of “the citizens’ ” forth- coming “initiative” to convert the Chepino Valley’s population (Middle Rhodopes, Figure 2-1).53 The document is particularly valuable because it sheds a detailed light on how the pokrŭstvane was carried out by civilian zealots with the blessing of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church and the active support of high-ranking military and political officials. Thus, the general pattern of the affair, as gleaned out from the report, appears to be the following: Having decided to Christianize the local Muslim population, Christian civilians from Pazardzhik and its vicinity proceeded to organize a “Committee for Assistance of the Newly Converted Christians” even before the conversion took place. This committee’s purpose “[wa]s to promulgate the idea about Christianizing the [local] Pomaks.” To implement their plan, these Bulgarian patriots organized themselves in “committees for conversion,” each assigned to specific Pomak village in the Chepino Valley. As the document stipulates, the pokrŭstvane initiative was to be first announced to the Pomaks, then publicized among the broader Christian population in the region, and finally enforced, “village by [Pomak] village,” starting on an appointed date. Thus, on December 29, 1912, conversion activists “marched into [the village of] Lŭzhene where [they] encountered a convention of local mayors and Pomak dignitaries from neigh-

51 In another letter to Ivan Shishmanov from 10 February 1913, Stoyu Shsishkov writes: “It has been a week already since the Pomaks in Chepelare have been converted as well, and they are so enthusiastic as if they have never been Mohammedans. The men wear hats with crucifixes on them—a sign testifying to the fact that they are no longer Mohammed’s followers—and the women, who have thrown the veil, are lighting candles, kissing the icons, and crossing themselves admirably.” Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Bulgarian Academy of Science, Fond 11, Inventory 3, Archival Unit 1676, pages 6–11. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 135–6.) 52 Ibid. Also, see Figs. 2-2, 2-3, and 2-4. 53 For further reference, a slightly abridged version of the above document is enclosed in Appendix 2.1. Nationalism And Violence 59 boring villages gathered to hear [them].”54 Henceforth, a succession of “patriotic citizens” took turns to deliver fiery speeches about the virtues of Christianity and the decadence of Islam, to be only occasionally interrupted by the nervous attempt at dissent of a beleaguered Pomak population. Below is a telling excerpt from the report:

. . . Mumdzhiev spoke first. . . . [He told the gathered Pomak elders] . . . that the Quran obstructs their progress, that their forefathers had been Islamized by force, . . . that the faith of Mohammed resembles a tattered coat which cannot warm the soul or soften the heart; that Christianity brings high moral virtues and gives freedom of conscience; that they are a compact mass of about 300,000 who speak the pure Bulgarian language so dear to us; that their folklore is ours, and so on. . . . Molla Mustafa Kara-Mehmedov from Rakitovo spoke on behalf of the Pomaks—a wealthy, intelligent, sixty-year old person, who had served as a district councilor and who can read Bulgarian excellently. He literally said the following: “Gentlemen, what the people from Pazardzhik said is just; but what can be done when there are 2,000 behind us (speaking of his village) who are simple and ignorant people and they do not understand how they could change their faith? It all seems to us like impenetrable forest, how can we find our way out of it? Anything is possible, but we ask to be allowed some time?” To that, the citizens . . . objected: “. . . You must convert now” [emphasis added].55

So, the pokrŭstvane of the Chepino Valley proceeded accordingly. On the appointed day, gendarmerie and soldiers—“stationed in these villages from mobilization time to disarm the Pomaks”—drove together the entire populations of Lŭzhene and Kamenitsa to facilitate the baptism. According to the document, more than 1,300 Pomaks were formally converted the same day. In the villages of Rakitovo, especially recruited photographers “captured the moments when the converts were sprinkled with water, and when they were kissing the cross and the priest’s hand.” After the formal baptism, “[t]he crowd,

54 Confidential report of the Pazardzhik activists on Pomak conversion to the Holy Synod, to Archbishop Maxim of Plovdiv, and to several Ministries, including the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, the Ministry of Finance, the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Commerce, the Ministry of War, and others from 22 February 1913. Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 107, pages 79–85. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 157–71.) 55 Ibid. 60 chapter 2 including the new converts, saluted the general, the local governor, and shouted three times: ‘Long live the King and Great Bulgaria.’ [emphasis added].”56 Just like that, the civilian Pazardzhik “crusaders”—with the blessing and support of the Bulgarian state and church—delivered “a population of about 150,000 [Pomak] people . . . to the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, and to the Bulgarian nation,” boasted the report.57 Even euphemistic, the wording of the above document is clearly the language of coercion (Appendix 2.1). The ultimate goal of the pokrŭstvane was not to “warm the soul” or “soften the heart” of the Pomak population, as phrased in the report, but to “deliver” “to the Bulgarian nation” a compact mass of “300,000” people in order to consolidate national sovereignty. The “soldiers,” “the general,” and “the local governor” were there to ensure that full control over the newly acquired territories, a fundamental part of which was the Chepino Valley of the Rhodopes, would be achieved absolutely and definitively via the forced conversion of the local Muslims. The recurring stipulation that the Pomaks “speak the pure Bulgarian language” was, in effect, a legitimization of Bulgaria’s claim over the Rhodopes, as well as over all territories settled by Pomaks (Appendix 2.1). The report’s authors, however, similar to the communiqués of many other pokrŭstvane enforcers, took special care to avoid direct references to violence. But, as one might conclude from Figures 2-2, 2-3, and 2-4, the motley crowd of Pomak men, women, and children were hardly the willing participants in an affair that forced them out in the bitter cold, in the middle of severe winter, to accept the faith of their wartime enemy. Were the pokrŭstvane truly “voluntary,” as alleged in much of the archival evidence, at least a portion of the Pomaks would have certainly opted out of swearing allegiance to symbols— the cross and pork meat—totally foreign and even repugnant to them as Muslims. In fact, the Rhodopean Pomaks were just emerging as Bulgarian subjects during and following the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913, and they still perceived themselves as Ottoman Muslims. Moreover, when the Turkish Empire broke down, the Pomaks’ Islamic religion became the sole anchor of palpable identity for them. Thus, they were even more likely to adhere to their Muslimness (Arab-Turkish names, conservative attire, and Muslim traditions) in the midst of political chaos than ever before. In effect, for the first time, the pokrŭstvane threatened to annihilate the deeply-rooted sense of Muslim self of the Pomaks, while seeking to replace it with customs new and hostile to them.

56 Ibid. 57 Ibid. Nationalism And Violence 61

Figure 2-2 Pokrŭstvane in the Village of Devin, 1912–1913 Priest Iliya Dzhodzhev sprinkles water over the head of an elderly looking Pomak person before proclaiming him “Christian.” The whole village is gathered in an open area to witness the baptism and endure the humiliation collectively.58 (Courtesy of Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv)

Ultimately, the Christianization of 1912–1913 emerged as the beginning of an end to many prominent Pomak traditions, which would be consistently suppressed by subsequent Bulgarian regimes. Figure 2-4 provides an example of just such suppressed cultural practice. It depicts a Pomak wedding performed in the Christian tradition during the pokrŭstvane. Instead of the customary (red) veil draped over her face,59 however, the bride is crowned with a wreath, branching over her head in the form of cross. Noticeable also is the groom’s lack of fez, broadly targeted for replacement with hats during the pokrŭstvane. Still, the bride’s and groom’s “crossed” wreaths are the sole observable indicators

58 Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 959k, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 902, page 3. Photography Collection no. 15532 (date unspecified). 59 It should be noted, however, that not all Pomak women traditionally wore the veil. The bridal veil—as far as it existed—has been gradually substituted for a peculiar make-up, covering the bride’s face like a mask, which is still practiced in the village of Ribnovo (the Western Rhodopes). For details on Pomak wedding traditions, read chapter five. 62 chapter 2

Figure 2-3 Pokrŭstvane in the Village of Banya, 1912–1913 The same priest Iliya Dzhodzhev (left), and another one, Khariton Nikolov, are baptizing the population of Banya. There is a table with kupel (a pail containing water) on it. Each of the Muslims, waiting in the background (left), would pass before the kupel to have his or her head sprinkled with water, thus, being formally baptized and reborn as “Christian.” The woman in the left (as well as the man with fez) is readily identifiable as Muslim, because she is trying to cover her face. A Bulgarian gendarme in uniform, there to ensure an orderly pokrŭstvane, is clearly visible in the right, behind one of the priests. The thick blanket of snow in the photograph is a vivid reminder of the severely cold winter that year. The ceremony of baptism in this particular photograph was probably done at the beginning of 1913.60 (Courtesy of Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv) that this Pomak couple has been baptized since the rest of their attire remains in typically Pomak style, visible to this day on many elderly women and men in the Rhodopes. The same photo also reveals another, more intimate aspect of the Balkan Wars pokrŭstvane. According to the archival description of the photograph, Khristo Karamandzhukov (back row, in the middle) served as the best man of the newlyweds. Considering that he was one of the most notorious campaigners for the second Pomak pokrŭstvane of 1938–1944,61

60 Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 959 k, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 902, page 2. Photography Collection no. 15531 (date unspecified). 61 See chapter three, especially the sections concerning Organization Rodina. Nationalism And Violence 63

Figure 2-4 A Pokrŭstvane Wedding A snapshot from the wedding of a newly converted Pomak couple in the village of Kestendcik, conducted in the Christian tradition by the same priest Iliya Dzhodzhev, 1912–1913. A witness to this ceremony is Khristo Karamandzhukov, a fervent pokrŭstvane activist (back row, in the middle).62 The writer and historian Vassil Dechov, who collected the earliest oral history about Salih Ağa, is also captured in this photograph (back of the picture, right upper corner, next to an elderly, bearded man). (Courtesy of Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv)

62 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 959k, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 902, page 1. Photography Collection no. 15530 (date unspecified). 64 chapter 2

Karamandzhukov appears to have been quite involved in the Christianization of the Rhodopes since the beginning. One can only speculate how he might have invited himself as the “best man” in this particular—and perhaps other— wedding(s) in much the same way in which other “crusaders” became the loathed “godmothers” and “godfathers” to freshly baptized Pomak families (see Appendix 2.1, middle of the document).

2.1 The Killings in Oral History Clearly, the purpose of the pokrŭstvane was to consolidate state sovereignty by ensuring national and territorial unity. The Pomaks, linguistically related to Bulgaria’s majority, were the most obvious candidate for assimilation. What stood between the dream of building a strong nation-state and reality was the Pomaks’ problematic religious affiliation with Islam, the faith of the former Ottoman “oppressor.” To Bulgaria’s ruling and religious authorities it was a sur- mountable obstacle that could be overcome by conversion, both religious and national. Undoubtedly, the authorities intended to implement the pokrŭstvane as bloodlessly as possible because violence would neither nurture Bulgarian patriotism among the Pomaks nor enhance Bulgaria’s international image after the war. On the unsettling road to nation-making, however, violence not only took place, but much blood was spilled as well. The scores of original documents, though, only hint at the killings that took place in many Pomak villages during the pokrŭstvane. This was in consequence of the purposeful misinformation policy applied by state and church authorities alike.63 The Bulgarian government was concerned about the country’s image abroad, since much of the current war’s outcome depended on the favorable disposition of the Great Powers, which would certainly condemn any atrocities committed against Muslim—or other—minorities.64 Similarly, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church did not wish to attract any criticism—in the words of Archbishop Maxim—for “resort[ing] to uncharacteristic to its nature

63 Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., passim. 64 The United Kingdom, France, Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the other Western Christian Powers were sympathetic to the self-determination cause of the newly emerging Christian nation-states in the Balkan Peninsula after the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire, as suggested in a document cited in this chapter. However, the Great Powers were also concerned with the humanitarian situation of the Muslim population that remained within these nation-states. For instance, there were special provisions in a number of peace trea- ties signed between Bulgaria and the Great Powers that guaranteed certain minority rights, including religious freedom (See 3.3. War and Pokrŭstvane No More). The pokrŭstvane, a clear breach of these provisions, was unwelcomed by the Western Powers. Nationalism And Violence 65 means” in making converts.65 Whereas the torture and killings were not necessarily committed by the Bulgarian ecclesiastical or military authorities, their inability or reluctance to stop the Christian bands’ pogroms against the Muslims makes both parties complicit in the atrocities. Because the surviving Bulgarian sources are at best suggestive of the cases of murder that accompanied the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913, it is all too easy to dismiss it as conjecture. Clues, however, can still be found and verified with vernacular history, preserving vivid memories of bloodshed. For instance, a coded telegram of the Bulgarian regional governor in Drama (now in Greece), Mr. Dobrev, to Bulgaria’s Prime Minister Ivan Ev. Geshov of November 26, 1912, reads:

With a posse of fifteen (15) people, [Khristo] Chernopeev departed for the Pomak villages to the north—north-west of Drama to Christianize the Pomaks.66

The Burning of Vŭlkossel Posses committed the worst atrocities. Under a sycamore tree in the village of Vŭlkossel, Western Rhodopes, there is a water fountain. A marble plaque dedi- cates this fountain “to our 95 Muslim brothers who gave their lives for their faith.” According to the story I heard from Mehmed Shehov in the summer of 2007, a learned seventy-six-year-old retiree, on February 22, 1913, Bulgarian troops, accompanied by irregular militiamen, arrived in Vŭlkossel after burning the neighboring village of Zhizhevo. At first they wanted the village elders, gathered in the mosque for their regular prayer, to turn over someone by the name of Salyu Mizinev, apparently a “troublemaker” for the Bulgarian authorities. The person in question was hiding under the floor, inside the mosque. “Tell Salyu to come out, or all of you will go up in flames!,” the men were told.

65 Words of Maxim, Archbishop of Plovdiv, on the margins of a report sent to him by Sv. V. Iliev from 30 January 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, page 39. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 87.) Note: In the document, Maxim wrote: “Съобщи му се устно . . . да не ходи с войници ни със стражари, за да не се петни св. Дело и се дава повод за обвинения, че църквата си служи с несвойствени ней средства.” (Ibid.) (Author’s translation: “He was orally told . . . not to go around with soldiers and gendarmes for that would sully our holy mission [of pokrŭstvane] with accusations that the church resorts to uncharacteristic to its nature means [to convert the Pomaks].”) 66 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 568, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 766, page 4. (Ibid., 14.) 66 chapter 2

“[Salyu] was a maverick, a rebel of sort,” Mehmed told me. “[And] [w]hen he heard that the mosque and the people in it were going to be burned because of him, he came out on his own.” Thereafter, two gendarmes rounded up Salyu— one in front of him and one behind him—and led him into a narrow side street, by the mosque. It was winter time and there was a lot of snow on the ground. Salyu, according to my interviewee, had a good pair of shoes on. So while the posses were taking him away to shoot him, he made a daring bid for escape. Pretending to be tying his shoe cords, he dealt a kick to the face of the hind gendarme and to the head of the front one, and darted running downhill, to the south. Apparently, the posses could not open fire immediately, because their own people were standing in the way. “They were shooting at Salyu from two sides,” Mehmed said, “but he zigzaged to avoid the bullets. . . . Then a small cloud of fog hid him. He never came back, this man. He fled to Turkey.”67 The very same day, the Christian posse drove all village elders out of the mosque, lined them up, and marched them a short distance toward—what is today—the Vilievs’ house, While being led away, the men were calling tekbir (prayer). When the tobacco pipe of one of the Muslim man, with last name Khalachev, fell to the ground, he bent down to pick it up and lagged a little behind from the group. A nearby Bulgarian gendarme used the moment to whisper in his ear: “ ‘Run, run while you can!’ ‘No, I won’t!’ replied Khalachev stubbornly, ‘Wherever everybody goes—I go.’ ” This man would come to regret his foolhardiness soon enough. A few moments later the men reached the Vilievs’ house and the posses began to stab them with bayonets. Whoever fell was quickly picked up by the hands and legs and thrown inside. According to Mehmed Shehov, there were 106 men who were butchered and pushed into the Viliev’s house. The Christians then poured gasoline on the building and set it on fire. Ninety-five men perished in the flames, many still alive from the stab- bing. About eleven of the total, however, managed to crawl out of the inferno and lived. Among the survivors was Mehmed’s step-mother’s father, Assan Kalvichev. “One day, while he and I were tending the sheep together,” Mehmed recounted, “he lifted his shirt and showed me seven scars left by the bayonets. How he survived such horrific wounds, I have no idea!” Mehmed’s own grandfather, Mustafa Shehov, burned in the fire. He was hodzha (hoca) or religious teacher who had graduated from the medresse (madrassa, a Muslim school of higher learning) in Thessalonica, now in Greece. Mehmed related to me a story about his grandfather’s last living moments:

67 Mehmed Shehov, interview by author, Vŭlkossel, Bulgaria, June 24, 2007. Nationalism And Violence 67

All men wore fezzes [at the time], and while they were marched toward the Vilievs’ house, the comitas [civilian posses] knocked their fezzes down and tramped them in the mud. When my grandfather’s fez fell, my grandmother—his wife—tried to pass her apron on to him so he could cover his head. One comita snatched the apron from my grandmother and hit her. Pushing her aside, they dragged my grandfather, bareheaded, with the rest of the group. Exactly how he died, we don’t know. But obviously the same happened to him as to all the others; he was stabbed and pushed into the house, where he died from his wounds, burning or suffocation.68

After looting Vŭlkossel and killing the village elders, the posses set the village ablaze and proceeded for the next Pomak village, Ablanitsa.

Figure 2-5 A Commemorative Water Fountain in Vŭlkossel A simple water fountain in Vŭlkossel, which dries out in the hottest summer days, is dedicated to the 95 souls who perished on a cold February day in 1913, because they refused to convert to Christianity. A combined force of civilian militias and troops rounded up all Muslim men they found in the mosque for prayer that day, marched them a short distance down to a wooden house, where they butchered them with bayonets before pushing them into the house and torching them.

68 Ibid. 68 chapter 2

Figure 2-6 A Commemorative Marble Plaque Next to the Fountain It reads: “In memory of our 95 Muslim brothers who gave their lives for their faith on 22 February 1913, Vŭlkossel.” Nationalism And Violence 69

The Killings in Ablanitsa Ibrahim Imam and Senem Konedareva offer a rare glimpse at the events that took place in nearby Ablanitsa in their concise history of the village, Ablanitsa through the Centuries.69 Relying on surviving testimonies, most transmitted through the descendants of survivors, the authors provide a detailed description of what happened in mid-February 1912, and again in 1913. “Upon cleans- ing the Struma River valley and crossing the Ali Botush Mountain between the villages Lŭki and Teshovo,” the authors write, “the band of Munyo Voyvoda (his real name is unknown . . . ) reached Ilinden[.] [F]illing his band with volun- teers from Singartiya (now Handzhidimivo) and the nearby [Christian] villages, he took the road to Ablanitsa reaching the village around 4–5 pm . . . on February 12, 1912[.]”70 Knowing beforehand that the village was Muslim, the band surrounded it. In the eve of February 13, Munyo Voyvoda’s posse rounded up forty-six of the most prominent residents of Ablanitsa, tied them together, and dragged the men in the direction of Singartiya. Among the captives was Hadzhiyata, a wealthy and respected member of the community. On the way out of Ablanitsa, “one of the chetniks [comitas] had a mind for spoils and told Hadzhiyata to go home and bring all valuables he could find in order to ransom his life.”71 After refusing to do so, however, Hadzhiyata was crucified on a wild pear tree along the trek to teach the others a lesson. According to the authors, he was the first victim of the Balkan Wars pokrŭstvane from Ablanitsa. One of the survivors from the same group of captives, Mehmed Konadov, later recounted that Hadzhiyata was nailed alive to the pear tree, as a result of which he died. This terrified the rest of the Muslim men who, thereafter, put their resourcefulness to the task of escaping. Imam and Konedareva describe how Mehmed Konadov remembered the pocketknife he usually kept in his woolen waistband, and, under the cover of darkness, he managed to cut the cord of the person tied in front of him, Yusuf Shamov. Thus freed, Yusuf in turn cut Mehmed loose and passed the knife on to the Lapantov brothers, roped before them. Aided by darkness and the thicket along the way, several people managed to escape. As they were tied at the rear end of the rope, their absence went unnoticed by the chetniks for a while. The posse men only realized that the number of captives had dwindled after checking the line upon getting ready to cross the bridge over the Mesta River into Singartiya. As the discovery was made, one of the chetniks proceeded to strike the rearmost prisoner, who promptly jumped into the river dragging

69 Ibrahim Imam and Senem Konedareva, Ablanitsa prez vekovete (Ablanitsa, 2008). 70 Ibid., 42. 71 Ibid., 43. 70 chapter 2 the posse along. In the ensuing chaos, two other Pomak men broke loose and survived by jumping into the water. After that, the remaining prisoners were most carefully guarded. Once in Singartiya, they were locked in a barn near the mill in the outskirts of the village. There, the chetniks butchered them one by one, discarding the bodies into the open sewer by the mill. Ibrahim Havalyov and Ibrahim Kambin, however, miraculously survived the ordeal to tell the story. Despite the horrific wounds both sustained, they managed to drag themselves out of the ditch and to crawl near the road in the hope of being rescued. This was the first attack by Christian bands on the village during the tumultuous Balkan Wars, according to the authors, but it was not going to be the last one.72 The second raid on the village by the chetniks of Mikhail Markov took place within days of the first one. Markov’s band “was a collection of civilian volun- teers from Gŭrmen and the neighboring [Christian] villages,” Imam and Konedareva claim. These “revolutionaries” embarked on a deliberate march through the Muslim villages in the area while pillaging, burning, and murder- ing people as they went. Markov’s comitas arrived in Ablanitsa on February 13, 1913, after ravaging Kribul and Vŭlkossel. Upon entering the village, coming from Vŭlkossel (eastwards), they posted sentinels at all entry points to prevent anyone from passing in or out of Ablanitsa. The villagers somewhat naïvely thought that they would escape the worst if they welcomed the chetniks, but it was not the case. By the time people realized their precarious situation, it was too late. No one could exit the besieged village any longer. Ibraim Bektash, who first tried to break through the blockade, was shot dead at the site Prèoda. Thereafter, the chetniks entered Ablanitsa and, going from house to house, they rounded up the men and locked them in the village mosque. It was then that Markov made his notorious offer, still seared in the collective memory of Ablanitsa and the neighboring communities: “Do you choose the cross or the cannon?” (“Do you choose conversion or death?”). While the village elders desperately attempted to negotiate some deal with the leader, the chetniks went about plundering the houses and terrorizing the population. After the men refused to accept conversion, the comitas selected thirty-five of the youngest and strongest Pomaks among those detained in the mosque and told them they would be released. Instead, they roped the men together and led them away, to “Ra[v]no Livade [Flat Meadows],” a site outside the village, “with large, water-filled pits, created by landslides.” They were all killed and discarded in those pits.73

72 Ibid., 42–44. 73 Ibid., 45. Nationalism And Violence 71

The remaining group of about fifty—mostly elderly and feeble—men, still locked in the mosque, was convoyed to Gŭrmen (a Christian village near Ablanitsa) the next morning. Two of them, Yussein Mustafa Hassanov and Mustafa Ibrahim Hassanov, according to Imam and Konedareva, were killed as they marched, because they could not keep up with the rest. Relatives later retrieved the bodies from a ditch and buried the men on the site. The other men were driven some distance further, butchered in a gully near the old village of Debren (adjacent to Gŭrmen), and abandoned there. People from the nearby Pomak villages of Debren, Krushevo, and Oreshe later interred the remains in a common grave, naming the site the Ablanitsa gully.74

2.2 The Killings Documented Oral history is not the sole source of knowledge about the murders that occurred during Bulgaria’s attempt to convert the Pomaks. Although it is difficult to find direct confirmation of the killings in the surviving Bulgarian records, an important foreign source of information does exist. It is the “Report of the International Commission to Inquire into the Causes and Conduct of the Balkan Wars” published by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace in 1914. The Carnegie Report resulted from the Great Powers’ post-war investigation into the conduct of the warring parties in the Balkan Wars. The investigation was entrusted to several prominent individuals acting as the Balkan Commission of Inquiry (BCI).75 The Carnegie Report is very useful in highlighting the complexities of a war which left no Balkan people unscathed, including the warring nation-states’ majority groups. In the mayhem of the Balkan Wars initially the victims of abuse and murder were predominantly Muslim. The allied Christian Greeks, Serbs, Montenegrins, and Bulgarians were slaughtering Muslims and ravaging their towns and villages almost in common agreement, but when the Second Balkan War began, the former allies became enemies and their respective populations turned on each other. Now the Bulgarians were equally violating Muslims, Greeks, and Serbs. The Serbs, on the other hand, were attacking

74 Ibid., 46–47. 75 Among the members of the BCI were: Dr. Joseph Redlich, professor of public law in the University of Vienna, (Austria), Baron d’Estournelles de Constant, senator, and M. Justin Godart, lawyer and Member of the Chamber of Deputies (France), Dr. Walter Schuecking, professor of law at the University of Marburg, (Germany), Francis W. Hirst, Esq., editor of The Economist, Dr. H.N. Brailsford, journalist, (Great Britain), professor Paul Milioukov, Member of the Douma (Russia), and Dr. Samuel T. Dutton, professor in Teacher’s College, Columbia University (United States). 72 chapter 2

Bulgarians and Muslims with the same ferocity, and the Greeks were victimiz- ing Muslims as well as Christians of Slavic (Bulgarian) descent. Often Slavic- Christian bands of Bulgarians and Serbs operated together against the Turkish-Muslim- and Greek populations, while common interests temporarily united Bulgarians and Muslims against Greeks. Ultimately, however, the Muslims remained the main target of violence due to their affiliation with the former Ottoman “oppressor” in the eyes of all Bulgarian-, Serbian-, Montenegrin-, and Greek Christians. Attached as Appendices to the Carnegie Report, under heading “The Plight of the Macedonian Moslems during the First War,” are many testimonies given to the BCI commissioners by witnesses, direct participants, and survivors of the atrocities of diverse ethnic and religious background.76 Thus, Rahni Effendi of Strumnitsa, a Muslim, described what took place within the former Province of Macedonia under Bulgarian and Serbian occupation:

The Bulgarian army arrived on Monday, November 4, 1912. . . . On entering the town, the Bulgarians disarmed the Moslem inhabitants, but behaved well and did not loot. Next day, a Bulgarian civil authority was established, but the Ser[b]ians had the military control. The Bulgarian army marched on to Doiran; on its departure looting and slaughter began. I saw an old man of eighty lying in the street with his head split open, and the dead body of a boy of thirteen. About thirty Moslems were killed that day in the streets—I believe by the Bulgarian bands. On Wednesday evening, an order was issued that no Moslem might leave his house day or night until further notice. A commission was then formed from the Bulgarian notables of the town; the Ser[b]ian military commander presided, and the Bulgarian Civil Governor also sat upon it. A local gendarmerie was appointed and a gendarme and a soldier were told to go round from house to house, summoning the Moslems, one by one, to attend the commission. I was summoned myself with the rest. The procedure was as follows: The Ser[b]ian commandant would inquire: “What kind of a man is this?” The answer was simply either “good” or “bad.” . . . [I]f one member of the commission said “bad,” that sufficed to condemn the prisoner. Each member of the commission had his own enemies whom he wished to destroy, and therefore did not oppose the wishes of his fellow members. When sentence was pronounced the prisoner was stripped of his outer clothes and bound, and his money was taken by the Ser[b]ian commander. I was pronounced

76 For further testimonies see Appendix 2.2. Nationalism And Violence 73

“good,” and so perhaps were one-tenth of the prisoners. Those sentenced were bound together by threes, and taken to the slaughter house; their ears and noses were often cut off before they were killed. This slaughter went on for a month; I believe that from three to four thousand Moslems were killed in the town and the neighboring villages.77

Rahni Effendi’s testimony, according to the Carnegie Report, was confirmed by Abdul Kerim Ağa (a Muslim) of Strumnitsa, who described to the commissioners how he lost his own son. That man’s son was apparently held hostage by someone called “Toma, the chief of the Bulgarian bands,” who demanded a ransom from Kerim Ağa. “Toma demanded a hundred pounds;” according to the report, “he [Kerim Ağa] had previously paid on two different occasions £50 and [£]170 to save this same son. He told Toma that he had not the money ready, but would try to sell a shop if the Bulgarians would wait until evening. Toma refused to wait and his son was shot.”78 As the Carnegie commissioners visited the Muslim refugee camp outside Thessalonica (now in Greece), they learned from the refugees that the Bulgarian bands arrived in Yedna-Kuk, a village near Strumnitsa, before the regular army. Thereafter, they “ordered the whole male population to assemble in the mosque,” had them shut in and robbed of all money (about £300 in total). Then they selected “[e]ighteen of the wealthier villagers,” tied them up, and took them to Bossilovo, “where they were killed and buried.” The commissioners recorded that the villagers could recall the names of nine of the murdered people.79 The Carnegie Commission further registered the report of the Catholic priest Gustave Michel, “superior of the mission at Kukush,” given to a Le Temps correspondent about the gruesome events in Kukush and its vicinity (now in Macedonia). The account reads:

A Bulgarian band led by Donchev shut all the men of the place in the mosque, and gathered the women round it, in order to oblige them to witness the spectacle. The comitadjis [comitas, chetniks] then threw three bombs’ at the mosque but it was not blown up; they then set fire to it, and all who were shut up in it, to the number of about 700 men, were burnt alive. Those who attempted to flee were shot down by comitadjis posted round the mosque, and Pere Michel found human heads, arms,

77 Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 278 (Appendix 2.2: Appendix A, No. 1). 78 Ibid., 278–279 (Appendix 2.2: Appendix A, No. 2). 79 Ibid., 279 (Appendix 2.2: Appendix A, No. 4). 74 chapter 2

and legs lying about half burned in the streets. At Planitsa, Donchev’s band . . . first drove all the men to the mosque and burnt them alive; it then gathered the women and burnt them in their turn in the public square. At Rayonovo a number of men and women were massacred; the Bulgarians filled a well with their corpses. At Kukush the Moslems were massacred by the Bulgarian population of the town and their mosque destroyed. All the Turkish soldiers who fled without arms and arrived in groups from [The]Salonica were massacred.80

It was not simply Muslims and occasional foreign observers who testified before the commissioners about the atrocities against Muslims during the Balkan Wars. Christian Bulgarians, frequently mortified by what was happening, provided their accounts as well. Vassil Smilev, a Bulgarian Christian teacher at Uskub, for example, stated before the Carnegie inquirers that upon entering the village, the Serbian army attempted “to persuade all the Bulgarian teachers to join the bands which they were forming in order to pursue the Turkish bands.” After going with the band “for twenty or thirty days,” however, Smilev left because “it was continually engaged in burning, torturing and killing.” Thus, he “witnessed the slaughter of eighteen Turks [Muslims] who had been collected in the Bulgarian school of the Tchair quarter of the town. They were killed in the open and their bodies thrown into a well near the brickworks.” He was able to name four of the murdered persons. Smilev also testified that it was the Serbian chief of police, Lazar Ilyts, who had been responsible for the massacre in Uskub and for the pillage of the village Butel. The Bulgarian teacher recounted how near Butel they met a number of Albanian villagers fleeing from the bands. “A Ser[b]ian major unveiled and kissed a young girl among them. Her father killed him on the spot. Thereupon the Ser[b]ian band massacred the whole body of fugitives, men and women, to the number of sixty.” After witnessing this massacre, which he subsequently reported to the Russian consulate, Vassil Smilev “refused to have anything further to do with the Ser[b]ian bands. He was expelled afterwards from Uskub with the other Bulgarian teachers.”81 That the massacre of Muslims by Bulgarian (as well as Serbian and Greek) troops and irregulars during the Balkan Wars and pokrŭstvane occurred is beyond any doubt. But the question why insurgent Christian bands targeted their Muslim neighbors so fanatically is important and not easy to answer. Part of the reason may be attributed to the fact that thirty-five years earlier, in 1876–

80 Ibid., 279–280 (Appendix 2.2: Appendix A, No. 6). 81 Ibid., 282 (Appendix 2.2: Appendix A, No. 11). Nationalism And Violence 75

1878 (as mentioned in Appendix 2.1), the Bulgarian Christian population rose against the Ottomans in a wave of organized revolts for independence. When the uprising was quashed, however, scores of civilian Christians, including in the Rhodopes, were killed. Many civilian Muslims, among them Pomaks, par- took in the violence against Christian “rebels” ostensibly in defense of the “mother country.” Consequently, even as (Christian) Bulgarians committed equal (and often worse) atrocities against Muslims, the official historiography proceeded to interpret these events as “proof” of Bulgarian-Christian heroism and virtue and of Islamic-Turkish cruelty and barbarism.82 Undoubtedly, assigning a collective guilt to all Muslims, the insurgent bands felt justified in punishing them not only for the brutal Ottoman suppression of the Bulgarian rebellions, but for the five centuries of “Turkish yoke”—to use a Bulgarian customary expression—as well.

2.3 Humanity and Survival Along the Way The massacre narrative of the pokrŭstvane, however, would not be complete without the other half of the story: namely, the testimony to human decency and compassion, not only to cruelty and murder. My informant Mehmed Shehov recounted a celebrated local story about a Bulgarian officer, Ivan Tikvarev, who was stationed some distance down south from Vŭlkossel, in Seress and Kavala (now in northern Greece). He came just in time to stop the bands and perhaps save from certain devastation the remaining Pomak villages in the area (the Western Rhodopes). This happened for a reason. Ivan Tikvarev was the husband (or son?) of a Christian woman by the name Maria. When the Bulgarians rebelled against the Ottomans in 1876, the Muslims retal- iated by killing a large number of Christians from Batak (Figure 2-1) and the surrounding villages. Likely as a result of these events, three girls—Maria, Elena, and an unnamed third—were orphaned and living in the woods around Batak. As it happened, a party of Pomak men was passing through the area and stumbled across the children. Eventually, these people took the orphans under

82 See Ali Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria (New York: Routledge, 1997). Conclusions to the same effect may be gleaned from the following works, among others: Nikolay Haytov, “Smolyan: Tri vŭrha v srednorodopskata istoria (Sofia, Bulgaria: Izdatelstvo na Natsionalnia Sŭvet na Otechestvenia Front, 1962) and Rodopski Vlastelini (Sofia, Bulgaria: Fatherland Front Pbl., 1976); Petŭr Marinov, Salih Ağa, Rodopski voyvoda i deribey: Cherti iz jivota i upravlenieto mu—Dramatizatsia po ustni predaniq i legendi v pet deystvia (Plovdiv, Bulgaria: Collection Rodina, 1940); Salih Bozov, V imeto na imeto (Sofia, Bulgaria: Fondatsia Liberalna Integratsia, 2005); Ibrahim Imam and Senem Konedareva, Ablanitsa prez vekovete (Ablanitsa, 2008). 76 chapter 2 their wing. The Barutev family from Ablanitsa adopted Maria, a family from Dryanovo took Elena, and the third orphan went to a family from Ossina.83 What happened with the other two girls, Mehmed Shehov could not tell me, but when Maria became of marriageable age, her foster parents decided it was best to try to reunite her with surviving kin in Batak. Maria was a Christian and the Barutevs believed she should marry a man of her own faith. One day, her foster father told Maria: “ ‘Listen, you are old enough to marry now. I think it is time for you to go back to Batak; to your own people. Do you remember where you lived?’ ‘I do,’ she said.” Then her foster father loaded her dowry onto a mule, and Maria, herself, onto another, and successfully escorted her back to Batak. In time she (either) married a man by the name Ivan Tikvarev (or that was her son). He was a military man, according to my informant Mehmed. Maria told her husband (or son) the story of how she had grown up in Ablanitsa and extracted a promise from him: “If you should happen to pass through Ablanitsa, I have some very dear people there, the Barutevs. Be good to them as they had been to me.” When Bulgaria took these lands from Turkey in 1912, bands of Christian chetniks plagued the (Western) Rhodopes killing scores of civilians and torching village after Muslim villages.84 In Mehmed Shehov’s account, Tikvarev was “the officer who ordered the withdrawal [from Vŭlkossel, Ablanitsa, Satovcha, and the other neighboring villages] of the başibozuk [civilian militias]. He was stationed somewhere in— what is now—northern Greece. And when he heard that Zhizhevo and Vŭlkossel were burning and the population was being murdered, he jumped on his horse, and rode, and rode . . . The horse dropped dead with fatigue somewhere near Hadzhidimovo [formerly, Singartiya], but he found another one and continued to gallop.” Finally, Tikvarev arrived in Ablanitsa. Fully armed, he walked in the mosque, and asked: “Who is Ismen Barutev?” When people pointed at Ismen, the latter was frightened to death thinking that this Bulgarian, armed to the teeth, was looking for him to no good end. Ultimately, Tikvarev tipped off the population about the approaching bands, so they were able to evacuate the village and avoid the killing for the time being.85 Ibrahim Imam and Senem Konedareva, however, paint a very different—far less heroic—picture of Ivan Tikvarev. While the general storyline remains the same, essential elements of it diverge significantly from Mehmed’s narrative. The two authors’ account appears to offer a more accurate representation of Tikvarev and the events surrounding him for two reasons. First, the source of

83 Three nearby villages. 84 Mehmed Shehov, interview. 85 Ibid. Nationalism And Violence 77

Imam and Konedareva’s knowledge is more closely based on the eyewitness testimony of immediate descendants than that of Mehmed Shehov. Moreover, as Ablanitsa natives, the authors must have had the opportunity to do a more thorough research of the story by talking to more people over a period of time. In any event, they provide the following narrative of how Mustafa Barutev found the young girl Maria (apparently called Fatme while in Ablanitsa) and how Tikvarev came to be associated with Ablanitsa, and the Western Rhodopes, during the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913:

The person we would like to tell you about is Mustafa Mehmedali Barut[ev] and the story happened in the immediate aftermath of the Batak events [the Batak massacre, above][.] [A]s we explained earlier, Batak stood at a crossroad of a major international trade and transportation artery that connected the plains of the Danube River with the Aegean coastal region, as well as the valley of Thrace and the city of Plovdiv[.] Mustafa Barut[ev] was a youth of about 19–20 years of age at the time. [He] was returning home [to Ablanitsa], through Batak, from Tatarpazardzhik [Tatar Pazarcik], where he attended the medresse [madrassa] and studied the Quran to become hodzha [hoca.] [T]o stay out of harm’s way in those tumultuous times, he decided to bypass Batak86 and skirt through the woods around it[.] [I]n the forest, he

86 Batak was a Christian village standing on the main artery that connected the Rhodope Mountains with Plovdiv, a large provincial center. According to Pomak oral history, many Muslims, who would pass through the village on their way to the Pomak heartland during the 1870s (and possibly earlier), often disappeared without a trace. These were mostly students attending schools of higher learning in Plovdiv and Tatarpazardzhik (now Pazardzhik) who traveled regularly—alone or in small groups, on foot or horseback— through Batak on the way to their native villages in the Western Rhodopes or back. Ahmed Ağa of Barutin—the person whom Bulgaria’s history ascribes atrocious acts of massacre in Batak—had two sons who studied in Plovdiv. One day, they embarked on a trip to Barutin (the Western Rhodopes) from Plovdiv, through Batak, never to be seen again. When his sons failed to return home, Ahmed Ağa began an investigation into their disappearance. Eventually, he heard the story of someone who had recently traveled through Batak with two other men. What he learned, according to local lore, was the following: Three young men from Barutin (or the broader area) traveled on foot through Batak, where they decided to stop for the night and continue on the following morning. Some local Christians offered to rent them a room. They agreed and were shown into a room with no windows or other outlets to the outside, except the door. After leading them into the room, the landlords immediately locked the door behind them. The Pomak men immediately realized that they had walked into a trap. Believing to be in mortal danger, they started tearing a hole in one of the walls by loosening the mortar and chipping away 78 chapter 2

stumbled across a little girl of 4–5 years of age who seemed scared, alone and crying, with no adult to be seen around. Mustafa assumed [correctly] that the girl must be from Batak, but he could neither venture into the [Christian] village to look for her parents, nor leave her alone in the forest at the mercy of predatory animals[.] [I]nstead, he decided to take her with him. Thus, Mustafa brought the girl home to Ablanitsa, much to his young wife’s delight at the sight of this living gift. The Barut[ev] family [re]named her Fatme and raised her as their own.

When she reached young adulthood, Mustafa told Fatme how he had found her and let her decide whether to remain in Ablanitsa or search for her roots in Batak. She said she wished to find her family, but all she remembered from her former life was one name—Tikvarev. Respecting Fatme’s wishes, Mustafa Barutev determined to locate her kin. The next morning, he loaded her belong- ings onto a mule, and they set off for Batak. Upon arriving, Mustafa inquired about the name Tikvarev. After a confirmation that such a family indeed existed, he was directed to a house. When an elderly woman answered his call, Mustafa found out that the same family had lost a little girl fifteen years prior, whom they thought long dead. He was happy to tell the woman that he had found the little girl in the woods, and—not knowing what else to do—he had taken her with him. With tears of gratitude in her eyes, the woman quickly spread the news to neighbors and relatives. Subsequently, the family invited

rocks. Luckily, it was an outside wall of the house. Soon, the opening was wide enough to try to get through it. By the time the first youth squeezed out, the “landlords”—apparently Bulgarian comitas (“revolutionaries”)—had returned for them. Ultimately, the two young men still inside were murdered, but the third one escaped. He later reported the case to Ahmed Ağa, the chief Ottoman official in the region. Thus, Ahmed Ağa concluded that his two sons were probably murdered in the same way. When no one in Batak answered his call for information about them, he laid siege on the mutinous village, taking many lives as a result. Moreover, as the local administrator (Ağa), he was under orders to quell the 1876 Christian rebellion in the area, especially strong in Batak. Unfortunately, Ahmed Ağa mixed duty and personal vendetta in dealing with Batak. Because Batak was a village of a few hundred at the time, the victims could not have been more than that even if everybody was killed in the village, which was not the case. Nonetheless, later Bulgarian historiography inflated the number of killed to thousands, a historically unsustainable count. Moreover, it demonized Ahmed Ağa, hence all Muslims, while transforming the Batak massacre into the ultimate symbol of Bulgarian martyrdom and Turkish barbarity. The scores of Muslims who died during and following the Russian-Turkish War of 1877–1878, on the other hand, were never mentioned. (Mehmed Shehov, interview; Mehmed Myuhtar, interview by author, Vŭlkossel, Bulgaria, June 2007.) Nationalism And Violence 79

Mustafa Barutev into their home, where he safely spent the night. In those tense times of religious antagonism (late nineteenth century), however, the family had to guard the house through the night to prevent hostile Christian neighbors from harming their Muslim guest. Early the next morning, they speedily escorted Mustafa out of Batak. The two families—the Barutevs of Ablanitsa and the Tikvarevs of Batak—kept close friendship ties for many years afterwards.87 Decades later, in early 1913, when the bands of Munyo Voyvoda and Mikhail Markov were plundering the Western Rhodopean villages and decimating their population, a third band headed by Ivan Tikvarev set out for the Pomak villages to the south, from Batak. Driven by bitter vengefulness since the 1876 Batak massacre,88 according to Imam and Konedareva, Tikvarev’s band destroyed the small Muslim village of Yenimale, just above Batak, before moving toward Dospat, Zmeitsa, Lyubcha, and Brŭshten. Ravaging these villages, they unleashed a veritable hell in Barutin (Ahmed Ağa’s former stronghold, footnote above) looting everything, killing indiscriminately, and ultimately setting the whole village ablaze. After similar fate befell Kochan, the chetniks besieged Zhizhevo (east of Vŭlkossel), where they lined the captured Muslims along a stone wall and offered them to be Christianized. As the villagers refused

87 Imam and Konedareva, 34–35. 88 According to the official version of the events, hundreds or thousands of Bulgarian Christians were massacred by Muslims during a wave of rebellion in 1876—known as the April Uprising—in and around Batak, including children, women, and men. The main responsibility for the massacre is laid on Ahmed Ağa of Barutin, a local Ottoman administrator and supposed leader of the başibozuk (Muslim civilian bands) that largely carried out the murders (details in a footnote above). Today, the skeletal remains of the victims are prominently displayed in the church of Batak, where they reportedly met their end. In the years after Bulgaria’s independence of 1878—what came to be known as—the Batak massacre transpired as the quintessential symbol of Muslim savagery and Bulgarian heroism. There is one serious problem, however. It is not yet clear how many exactly died and whether or not all skeletal remains preserved in the church belong to actual victims. In 2006, the Austrian academic Ulf Brunnbauer and his Bulgarian colleague Martina Baleva made an effort to initiate a public debate in Bulgaria about the Batak massacre. Their attempt to re-evaluate the scope of this tragedy by stating that it was not as significant at the time of occurrence as it was later portrayed, caused such a nationalistic frenzy in the Bulgarian public space that the scholars were forced to terminate their project. Moreover, patriotic organizations and media accused them of being “paid agents” of some external “enemy” seeking to re-write Bulgarian history. Baleva, an (Orthodox Christian) Bulgarian, was declared “a national traitor.” The affair also resulted in the resignations of museum curators and Cultural Ministry’s officials who initially collaborated with Brunnbauer and Baleva’s work. 80 chapter 2 to convert, the chetniks demanded gold or whatever valuables they might have in exchange for their lives. Even after people gave them all the gold they could find, Tikvarev’s comitas executed all the men. An eyewitness, Ressim Zhizhevski, who was a small child at the time, reminisced how they spared no one but old women and children and that they torched the village at the end. This account, according to Imam and Konedareva, was further confirmed by an elderly woman from Zhizhevo—affectionately known in Ablanitsa as Nene [Grandmother] Zhizhka—who witnessed these events as a child and later married into the Mollov family of Ablanitsa. From Zhizhevo, Tikvarev’s chetniks passed through Vŭlkossel, partially destroying it before withdrawing hastily. On February 14, 1913, just two days after Munyo Voyvoda’s band had despoiled the village, they surrounded Ablanitsa.89 Hereafter, Imam and Konedareva revive the story of Mustafa Barutev, his foster daughter Fatme (Maria), and Tikvarev:

As it turned out, the leader of the band, Ivan Tikvarev, was that girl’s (Fatme’s) son, and when his chetniks came south to cleanse the area of “Turks, Pomaks, and fezzes,” she had him promise not to harm the Baltachitsa neighborhood of Ablanitsa, where she had grown up in the Barutev’s household. Consequently, although most of the population had already fled Ablanitsa after seeing Vŭlkossel in flames, Tikvarev’s band did not ravage the village in the usual chetniks’ fashion. He had instructed his chetniks not to touch any place where his white horse would be stabled. Thus, during the last and final raid on Ablanitsa by the [Christian] bands, Baltachitsa was spared because of the white horse of Tikvarev stabled in the courtyard of the Barutev’s house. The rest of Ablanitsa, however, was scoured for valuables by the chetniks, and after finding nothing and no one, save for a few elderly women and children, they torched several houses in the center of the village, including the home of Mehmed Dzhinaliyata [italics added].90

Thus, according to Imam and Konedareva’s sources, Tikvarev was not an army officer at all, but a chetniks’ leader who—like many others—engaged in looting Pomak villages, forcing people into conversion, and killing many others in the chaos of the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913. Tikvarev, however, spared Mustafa Barutev’s descendants from harm on account of his mother’s wishes. The dis- parity in oral history’s accounts about him only demonstrates people’s pro-

89 Imam and Konedareva, 48–49. 90 Ibid., 49–50. Nationalism And Violence 81 found appreciation of his singular act of clemency by choosing to remember him as a hero rather than a villain. While narratives of heroism might largely be the product of faulty or exag- gerated memory today, acts of common human decency were certainly not. The stories of Christians who risked much to help their Muslim friends and neighbors during the dark days of early 1913 abound. When the chetniks of Munyo Voyvoda rounded up the men of Ablanitsa and brought them to Singartiya (the Western Rhodopes) in ropes, the very Christian inhabitants of the village did not venture out of their homes for fear of the bands’ lawlessness. But not all of them cowered. Imam and Konedareva recount how, upon hear- ing rumors that Munyo Voyvoda had slaughtered Pomak prisoners somewhere around the mill in the outskirts of Singartiya, the wealthy Christian Tasso Chorbadzhi went out of his way to investigate the matter. When he arrived at the mill, he stumbled upon the bloody bodies of the two survivors who had crept out of the sewage and onto the road hoping to be found by good people. In one of the wounded, Tasso Chorbadzhi recognized his long-time friend from Ablanitsa, Mehmed Havalyov. Subsequently, he took both men to his home and nursed them back to health. As Mehmed had sustained more severe inju- ries, Tasso Chorbadzhi kept him hidden for nearly a month before sending him home. The second wounded man, Mehmed Kambin, was smuggled back to Ablanitsa on the following day. Later in the Balkan Wars, when Greek forces briefly occupied the valley of Nevrokop (now Gotse Delchev, map above), they killed the notorious Munyo Voyvoda.91 Another survivor of the Ablanitsa massacres of 1913 was Ibrahim Yusseinov Hassanov, nicknamed Kabadaiyata. The story of his survival, retold by Imam and Konedareva, is a remarkable testimony to the human will to live and resourcefulness. Having survived Munyo Voyvoda’s raid, Kabadaiyata was weary of Markov and his band, so he did not go out to greet them as most people did. Moreover, he had already noticed that Markov was positioning his comitas at all entry points to the village. But, Kabadaiyata, a young man at the time, was determined to escape with his life again. Putting a plan to action, he draped a veil over his face, slipped on a ferezhe, and, chasing after a few sheep, he hurried toward the streams of Studeneka. The chetnik, on guard at Studeneka, paid little attention to the drab Muslim shepherdess, apparently on a business of watering her herd. As the girl reached the shallow brook, however, she suddenly darted right past it and made a run for the nearby river. By the time the comita reacted, the supposed shepherdess—now racing full speed downhill—had put a considerable distance between them. Before long, the

91 Ibid., 42–47. 82 chapter 2 thicket of the river bank swallowed her. Reluctant to abandon his position in pursuit of a harmless girl, the chetnik let her escape. The Kabadayata eventually found shelter in a cavern overlooking the river, where he hid for three days. By then the bands had withdrawn and his life was saved.92

2.4 The Pokrŭstvane of Muslim Prisoners of War (POWs) As the bands’ brutality yielded few results for the pokrŭstvane effort, the Bulgarian military and church authorities sought other ways to Christianize the Pomaks. One efficient way of inducing bloodless conversion was the compulsory baptism of Pomak POWs. During the Balkan Wars, Turkey conscripted most able-bodied Pomak men. But in consequence of the country’s defeat in May 1913, the Bulgarian army took Muslim prisoners of war by the thousands. The Slavic-speaking Muslims were immediately separated from their Turkish- speaking comrades, and transported to camps deep inside Bulgaria so they could be converted to Orthodox Christianity and given Bulgarian names. The capture of Pomak soldiers proved very useful to the pokrŭstvane, because it allowed for the conversion not only of the POWs, but also of their families. When younger Pomak men were drafted in the Ottoman army, many left behind vulnerable wives, children, young siblings, and elderly parents. In captivity, the Bulgarian military gave these soldiers the choice to accept Christianity or never see their loved ones. At the same time, the POWs’ families were told that solely on their conversion depended the life and speedy release of their husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers. Thus pressured, whole households accepted Christian baptism in exchange for their family members. Before setting Pomak captives free, however, the Bulgarian authorities properly supplied them with identity papers indicating the men’s new Christian names and religion.93 To obtain release, Muslim POWs petitioned the Bulgarian Orthodox Church for conversion by the hundreds. The Bulgarian government and ecclesiastical authorities insisted on the submission of formal petitions to make the conversions appear voluntary. Below is an example of an individual petition, filed by the POW Eyub Syuliev, and addressed to Archbishop Maxim of Plovdiv of January 25, 1913:

92 Ibid., 47–48. 93 Inferred from the totality of records published in Georgiev and Trifonov’s volume. Nationalism And Violence 83

Through the Commanding Officer of Second Division of Thrace To His Holiness The Archbishop of Plovdiv

PETITION From Eyub Mustafov Syuliev [a POW]

Your Holiness,

Bearing in mind that only the Gospel can uplift the human spirit and lead it to progress and culture, I obediently beg permission to join the [Bulgarian] Orthodox Church and, by so doing, to set an example for other Muslims to follow.

The Town of Pazardzhik With Reverence, 25 Jan. 1913 Eyub Syuliev94

Petitions of such nature were frequently signed by hundreds and even thousands of Muslim prisoners of war. As with the en mass baptism of villages, the collective conversion of Pomak captives saved time, effort, and resources. As a result, group petitions among the available records outnumber individual ones. The highly partisan language of these petitions, however, strongly suggests that they were neither voluntary nor authored by the POWs themselves. In all likelihood, patriotic officers, priests, or civilians prepared those in advance and presented them for signatures to the POWs. To be sure, military staff itself initiated the conversion of Pomak captives. For example, the commandant of Panagyurishte, Sapundzhiev, sent the following telegram to Archbishop Maxim on 30 January 1913, thereby arranging the conversion of hundreds of prisoners:

There are 550 prisoners of war in the town [Panagyurishte] and its vicinity. They wish to voluntarily pass into the midst of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, to which their forefathers belonged but were torn from in

94 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67 k, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, page 32. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 58.) 84 chapter 2

consequence of the Turkish barbarism. . . . Hereby I ask Your Holiness to announce their baptism [emphasis added].95

No matter how carefully the state and church authorities phrased their com- muniqués, or how often they used “voluntary,” the coercive nature of the pokrŭstvane is plainly visible in the records. In a telegram to the mayor of Kaloffer, Archbishop Maxim instructed: “The valley of Chepelare has been Christianized; the valley of Rupcha—half-way. The Pomak prisoners of war in Kuklen, Perushtitsa, Brestovo, Bratsigovo, Panagyurishte, and Golyamo Konare, exceeding 1,000 in number, have accepted the faith. It is now time that you, the citizens of Kaloffer, fulfill your sacred duty to faith and fatherland.”96 The “sacred duty” that Maxim conferred on the government and citizens of Kaloffer was nothing short of command to convert the Muslim prisoners in town by any means necessary. Although Maxim’s language is intentionally elusive, the meaning is apparent within the broader context of pokrŭstvane. In yet another telegram, Maxim triumphantly announced that another group of “[a]round 1,000 prisoners of war within the Plovdiv Diocese have been converted and set free to return to their families.”97 Formal conversion to Christianity not only shielded Muslim prisoners from torture, but in most cases it was the key to their release and safe return home. Converts were not only treated differently, but also provided with basic clothing and food. The report of priest Pavel Dimitrov to Archbishop Maxim from February 14, 1913, describes the special attitude towards prisoners of war who had converted or petitioned for conversion. Upon arriving in Pazardzhik under convoy,

they are accommodated in a hotel specifically appropriated for that purpose, given bread, and—those who need—shoes as well. The [pokrŭstvane] committee provides the new converts with the necessary

95 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, page 10. (Ibid., 85–86.) 96 Telegram of Maxim, Archbishop of Plovdiv, to the mayor of the town of Kaloffer from 3 February 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, page 57. (Ibid., 110.) 97 Telegram of Maxim, Archbishop of Plovdiv, to Yossiff, Bishop of Darıdere, from 3 February 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, page 62. (Ibid., 111.) Nationalism And Violence 85

food rations and, under the protection of the military authorities, they are sent home to their families.98

But Pomak prisoners and their families only accepted conversion out of desperation, and as a measure of last resort. On January 15, 1913, for instance, one pokrŭstvane mission informed Archbishop Maxim that the populations of Nastan, Breze, Beden, and Dövlen were only inclined to convert if “their sons, husbands, fathers, and grandsons would be released from captivity[.] [W]ith out the prisoners’ release,” the missioners pointed to Maxim, “their families are reluctant to accept Christianity.” Thus, they “implore[d]” “[His] Holiness” to order the release of all prisoners from the district of Dövlen . . . ; [and] to speed up the supply of material aid in the form of food and clothing, for these are the greatest incentives for conversion among this devastated population.”99

2.5 The Tide is Turning The official Bulgarian position on the forced Christianization of the Slavic- speaking Muslims was one of complete denial or insistence that the whole affair was voluntary. Indeed, the language of available primary records tends to be euphemistic and defensive, carefully avoiding admissions of wrongdoings, and suspiciously overstating the “voluntary” nature of the conversion. Bulgaria’s government, for one, was not interested in attracting foreign criticism, when a new peace treaty and another territorial redistribution in the Balkans were about to happen. Despite all efforts to keep the act of pokrŭstvane secret, however, news of the violence committed against the Muslims began to leak out by the spring of 1913 and to raise international concerns. Thus, the London-based Balkan Committee addressed the then Bulgarian Prime Minister, Ivan Geshov, on May 1, 1913, in the following manner (originally in English):

We feel it our duty to direct your attention to certain rumours that are being spread in this country as to forcible conversion of Moslem inhabitants in the districts conquered by the Allied armies—rumours which, we have reason to know, tend to alienate sympathy from the Balkan cause and peoples, and render more difficult the task of those who, like us, are anxious to assist in healing the grievous wounds which this terrible war has inflicted upon the country.

98 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 124, pages 137– 38. (Ibid., 142.) 99 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 125, pages 22–23. (Ibid., 35.) 86 chapter 2

We beg you, Sir, to believe that our sole motive in drawing your attention to this matter is solicitude for the future welfare and happiness of your nation, and we would be glad to receive from you assurances that would enable us to contradict and refute the charges to which we have alluded [emphasis added].100

The leaking of “rumours” about the conversion was due in large part to the growing resistance of Pomaks, lodging complaints of brutality against them to both foreign embassies and internal government institutions. From Protocol no. 11 of the Holy Synod101 it emerges that by mid-February 1913, the frightened Muslims had begun to recuperate and to fight back. In particular, the pokrŭstvane missions in Seress and Nevrokop were reporting to the ecclesiastical authorities that “Pomak villages in Nevrokop have returned to the Muslim faith,” and that “instructors were going among the Pomaks to instigate them to rebel.”102 As the conversion violence escalated during the first three months of 1913, Pomak resistance intensified. Indeed, in the same Protocol no. 11, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church expressed fear that “the holy mission” might fail due to two reasons: (1) the bitter winter that hampered the missionaries’ ability to move about; and (2) the growing defiance of the Muslims.103 For the first time since the beginning of the pokrŭstvane the church went on the defensive by denying all “allegations” of violence and by continuing to insist that “the conversion of the Pomaks was voluntary.” As the number of complaints grew, however, it became increasingly difficult to dismiss them as “rumours.” Consequently, Bulgaria’s political and military regime began to distance itself from the religious authorities. Henceforth, fending for themselves, church officials proceeded to blame the noxious “rumours” on Protestant jealousy of the Orthodox Church’s success in gaining converts.104 Meanwhile, the Muslim protests against the pokrŭstvane continued. In a telegram to the Bulgarian Legation in London of January 7, 1913, Prime Minister Geshov complained:

100 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 586, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 1014, Page 1. (Ibid., 278.) 101 The Bulgarian Orthodox Church’s highest authority. 102 Protocol no. 11 of the Holy Synod from the session of 12 February 1913. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 791, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 24, pages 114–121. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 137–40.) 103 Ibid. 104 Ibid., Western Protestant missions were also active in the conversion of Muslims in the Balkans, so there was a kind of competition for converts between them and the Eastern Orthodoxy, dominating most Christian nations in the Peninsula. Nationalism And Violence 87

Today, the English Consul handed me a memorandum, turning my attention to some alleged abuse against Muslims, and hoping that we would take all measures to stop it and punish the culprits. In response, I said that a month earlier I had talked to General Savov [deputy-commander in chief of the Bulgarian army] about the situation and he had authorized . . . an investigation of these crimes and punishment for the perpetrators.105

Further, a protocol of the Holy Synod refers to a letter of the Ministry of Denominations106 from January 18, 1913, which clearly points to the state’s complicity in the pokrŭstvane. Apparently, the letter in question was intended to alert the church officials to the fact that Pomak delegations had been lodging complaints of “abuses and forced Christianization” not only with foreign consuls, but with the Ministry itself, and even with King Ferdinand of Bulgaria. “His Majesty’s Chief of Staff informed the King,” a quotation goes, “that the same delegation [which had complained to the Ministry of Denominations] appeared in the royal palace to complain of abuses during the Christianization of the Pomaks.”107 As evident from the communication of St. Kostov, secretary of the Holy Synod, to Stoyu Shishkov, the Muslims were taking action against the pokrŭstvane as early as December 1912. In the letter, Kostov notified Shishkov, a participant in the conversion missions, that Archbishop Maxim had been aware of “some Pomaks from the Peshtera district” complaining of torture and forced conversion to the Turkish mufti (the regional Muslim religious leader). Then, joined by the mufti himself, these Pomaks even brought their case before “the Police Commandant in Plovdiv.” “The Commandant [, however,] issued them with a warning to produce factual evidence before complaining of torture or else they would be prosecuted for slander.”108 Nor did threat and intimidation discourage the Muslims. Voicing their collective protest, on February 4, 1913, the population of three Rhodopean villages addressed the Chairperson of the Bulgarian Parliament in the following letter:

105 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 568, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 757, page 1. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 28.) 106 The state organ in charge of religious affairs. 107 See Protocol 2 of the Holy Synod from its session on 19 January 1913. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 791, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 24, pages 11–14. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 62.) 108 The letters is dated 31 December 1912. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 568, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 800, page 16. (Ibid., 21.) 88 chapter 2

Mr. Dr. Danev,

We are Bulgarian Mohammedans from the villages of Dryanovo, Er-Küpria, and Bogutevo, Stanimaka District[.] [T]he terror, violence, and sword over our heads to become Christians has reached its highest point[.] [W]e truly believe that our sacred Constitution permits not that we be humiliated and beaten in order to abandon our religion. We are born in it, and we want to remain in it. If you could only bear witness to the sobs and suffering of us, the defenseless, you would know that the conversions are not voluntary, but produced by violence[.] To this bespeaks the fact—known to the whole world—that if we wanted to convert, we would have done so 35 years ago when Russia came,109 not now, when we should enjoy freedom in the embrace of Great Bulgaria. We place our faith in you[;] in your ability to . . . put an end to our suffering, so that we, and our whole nation, may see that the hopes we had vested in you, upon electing you to that titanic office, to work for Bulgaria’s greatness, have not been betrayed.

02/04/1913 Reverentially, The residents of Er-Küpria, Dryanovo, and Bogutevo [The letter is anonymous.]110

Effective Pomak protest was often enabled by sympathetic Christian Bulgarians. For instance, the teacher in the village of Oreshets, Mr. Kodzhabashov, apparently loathing the whole conversion affair, encouraged the people of Er-Küprü to resist the conversion. Moreover, he admitted “a Pomak deputation from Er-Küprü to his home” and advised them “how to file a complaint.” This information was transmitted to the Holy Synod by Archbishop Maxim, who warned this supreme body of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church that “other teachers and clerks are telling the Bulgarian-Mohammedans not to accept baptism, advise them how to complain from abuse, submit protest notes, and even write those for them.” In conclusion, Maxim asked the Holy Synod to take measures against

109 Referring to the Russian-Turkish War of 1876–1878 as a result of which Bulgaria gained its independence. The Russian imperial troops invaded the Ottoman Empire and fought most of the war within the territory of modern-day Bulgaria. 110 Protest-letter from the population of Er-Küprü, Dryanovo, and Bogutevo to the Chairperson of the Parliament from 4 February 1913. National Library-Bulgarian Historical Archives. Fond 15, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 1832, page 22. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 113.) Nationalism And Violence 89 individuals who thus thwarted “the holy mission” and went against the interests of “the church and the fatherland.”111 By the spring of 1913, the Pomak community had been actively engaged in systematic acts of defiance, both individually and collectively. Entire villages, for instance, refused to attend church or further submit to Orthodox Christian baptisms, burials, and weddings. Much of this courage stemmed from the realization that, scared by the growing publicity, the Bulgarian government was withdrawing its support for the pokrŭstvane. Thus, the church stood fending for itself. Also, by the fall 1913, Bulgaria had already been losing the Second Balkan War. With defeat came demoralization, as well as waning of the national zeal to Christianize the Pomaks. The religious missions and their civilian aides carried out the pokrŭstvane for a while longer, but without the intimidating presence of the military, their efforts soon fizzled. By September 1913, the missionaries were transmitting discouraging news to Archbishop Maxim and the Holy Synod. Priest Nikola Stamenov, a missionary in the village of Dorkovo, included the following news in his report to Maxim:

During the last three weeks—15, 22, 29 September—everyone, men as well as women, refuse to come to church. On Sundays the men plow their fields and the women do their laundry, while you can rarely see a man plowing or a woman washing any other day. Since September 25 [1913] there is commotion among them; 5–6 new Christians from other villages come here every day under the pretext of visiting relatives, but they gather together for counsel; they put a deliberate person on watch for when I approach; in my presence, they switch to talking about other, insignificant matters. The coffee shops are full of people these days and stay open through the night[.] I’ve tried to tell them many times to close the shops and go home, but they don’t listen to me[.] I informed the police about all that already. There are seven (7) newborns due for baptizing[.] I’ve warned the parents four times already to bring them [to the church] for baptizing, but they refuse[.] I reported it to the municipal authorities, but no cooperation from there either. Everyone is selling goats, sheep, cattle, houses, whatever property they have, saying they’ll be leaving soon for Asia [Turkey], where they’ve purchased land already. They don’t let me call them by their new names. Boys 15–16 years of age wear fezzes again, telling me they’ve worn out their hats already. Women

111 Letter of Archbishop Maxim of Plovdiv to the Holy Synod from 5 February 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 123, page 117. (Ibid., 289.) 90 chapter 2

started covering their face a hundred times harder than they did in Ottoman times.112

From Er-Küprü, priest B. Khristov reported nearly the same story: “For two weeks already there is great excitement among the new converts[.] . . . [T]heir insubordination is growing, too[.] [T]hey respect nothing related to the church anymore; and no one listens to my counsel. . . . Already, some of them are openly saying, ‘We are Turks [Muslims], and we’ll remain Turks, because our rights will be restored.’ ”113 Such tales of frustration for the missionaries and of emerging hope for the Muslims were abounding by the fall of 1913. In a report of October 1, Atanass Zlatkov, priest in Banya-Chepino, related to Archbishop Maxim that “[o]ne of the old Christians, Miko Akev, had said to the new convert Miladin Tumbev, ‘Good evening, Miladine!’ to which the latter rejoined, ‘Don’t call me Miladin! I have a name.’ ” The same priest also reported how he asked the “convert Assen Trenov, ‘Why aren’t you coming to church?’ He said he didn’t have any money to light a candle in the church. I told him that . . . if he had money for cigarettes, he should have for candles, too. . . . [T]o this he replied he was European and he did not need to go to church.”114 Another missionary, Toma Belchev, serving in the Pomak village of Chepelare, wrote to Archbishop Maxim on December 24, 1913:

I saw this person from Güzdünitsa wearing fez: “Where are you from?,” I asked. “From Güzdünitsa.” “What’s your name?” “Hassan.” “Aren’t you baptized?” “Yes, you baptized me, but with baptizing alone, you can’t take my faith away.” “You must know that once you’ve been baptized, you can’t wear the fez anymore?” “That time is over. It used to be dark, but now it’s light again,” he said to me.115

112 The report is dated 30 September 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 117, pages 69–70. (Ibid., 415.) 113 Report of B. Hristov, priest in Er-Küprü, to Archbishop Maxim from 14 October 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 117, pages 83–84. (Ibid., 419–20.) 114 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 117, pages 74–78. (Ibid., 416–17.) 115 Ibid., pages 207–8. (Ibid., 456.) Nationalism And Violence 91

Indeed, by the end of 1913 the pokrŭstvane was a dead affair and the Pomaks were free to restore their Muslim faith and identity. However, the excesses and killing that accompanied the conversion went unpunished. Moreover, the Bulgarian Orthodox Church took steps to reward the leaders of insurgent bands who carried out some of the bloodiest pogroms against the Pomak population. For example, in Protocol no. 44 of the Holy Synod from October 24, 1913, one reads:

[During this session, the Holy Synod] dealt with the matter of rewarding Tane Nikolov and his comrades for their contribution to our mission of converting the Pomaks from the Gümürcina [Gumurdzhina] district. . . . Wherever he acted on this holy mission with his 22 comrades, Tane Nikolov had shown great diligence, loyalty, tact, wisdom, and unques- tionable selflessness from the moment of his arrival in Gümürcina. Tane Nikolov and his group had been dispatched [there] by the district government, and [had acted] with the consent of the Chief Army Quarters, to assist the church missions [in converting the Pomaks] . . . For this, the Holy Synod will plead with the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Religious Denominations to award Tane Nikolov and his comrades the amount of 20,000 leva for their selfless- and very valuable to the State, Nation, and Church contribution. . . .116

In the course of the same session, the Holy Synod formally aborted the pokrŭstvane campaign after having lost the support of the army and state authorities. Accordingly, the session’s protocol reads: “It has been decided that the missions for conversion of the Pomaks are henceforth revoked and relieved of their duties until further notice when our work could resume . . .”117 And the next forced Christianization of Pomaks would not take place until three decades later.

3 War and Pokrŭstvane No More As early as July 1913, Bulgaria was losing the Second Balkan War. While Greek troops were taking away Macedonia from the south, Turkey was recapturing Thrace from the southeast. That same month, the coalition government of Stoyan Danev—which carried out part of the pokrŭstvane—fell and King Ferdinand appointed a new cabinet headed by Vassil Radoslavov as Prime Minister. Bulgaria’s conclusive defeat in the Second Balkan War forced the

116 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 791, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 24, pages 579, 581–82, 587–88, 598. (Ibid., 421–22.) 117 Ibid. 92 chapter 2

Radoslavov government to accept the terms of the Bucharest Peace Treaty (August 10, 1913), followed by the Treaty of Constantinople a month and a half later. The Treaty of Constantinople allowed Bulgaria to retain control over most of the Rhodope Mountains (the rest remained in Greece), a territory densely populated by Pomaks. However, Bulgaria was also bound to honor a number of provisions related to the protection of Muslim rights and freedoms. Article 7 of the treaty established that all Muslim (and other) persons living on former Ottoman territories, presently annexed to Bulgaria, were to become full-fledged Bulgarian citizens. Those wishing to retain their Ottoman citizenship, however, could immigrate to Turkey within the next four years with all their movable property. Article 8 of the treaty guaranteed to all Muslims living in Bulgaria the right to equality before the law, freedom of conscience, and freedom to profess and practice their religion. It further mandated that Bulgaria recognized and respected the right of Muslim parishes to own property, as well as to maintain and regulate their own hierarchical structure. Articles 9 and 10 of the Treaty of Constantinople additionally decreed that all rights and privileges—including property rights—acquired by persons and/or entities, established under valid Ottoman laws, were to be retained and respected likewise. A separate provision, binding to Bulgaria and Turkey alike, guaranteed that Christian and Muslim burial grounds would be respected. Article 16 established the right to free movement of nationals of both countries within the territory of the other.118 Following the Balkan Wars, Bulgaria embarked on a process of restoring its relationship with Turkey and improving the treatment of its Muslim minorities. The Cabinet of Vassil Radoslavov played a pivotal role in the post-war healing. On October 16, 1913, for example, the government published a deliberate “Manifesto to the Population from the Newly Liberated Territories,” proclaiming its commitment to respect the rights and freedoms of the Bulgarian citizens from the new territories.119 Consequently, the Rhodopean Pomaks expressed their appreciation for the government’s reversal of the conversion by voting en mass for Radoslavov’s Liberal party, effectively aiding his re- election on February 23, 1914.

118 Fatme Myuhtar, “The Human Rights of the Muslims in Bulgaria in Law and Politics since 1878” (Sofia, Bulgaria: Bulgarian Helsinki Committee, November 2003), 16–17. 119 “Manifesto to the Population from the Newly-Liberated Territories,” Official Gazette no. 329, October 1913. Nationalism And Violence 93

Conclusion

The brutal pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913 was a move towards territorial, political, and cultural consolidation of the Bulgarian state and nation. Bulgarian authorities, supported by the church, hoped for a quick and efficient national unification through conversion of a significant segment of the population—a step deemed necessary to thwart potential territorial claims by Turkey. Dictated by national ideals, fashioned by the ruling elites and the intelligentsia, and fed to the masses, the politics of coercive assimilation inspired the dominant ethno- religious group to accept and execute the pokrŭstvane. The spirit and letter of Bulgarian nationalism was one of a young nation- state, emerging out of foreign rule. The previously Ottoman dominated population, which lacked traditions of self-government, sought to build a sovereign national state of their own. Harboring no respect for individual freedom or cultural difference, the new nation’s goal was to substitute the formerly subjugated status of the prevalent ethno-religious group with one of undisputed domination over all other communities within the claimed territories. The strategy was to enforce cohesion through coercion (violence) rather than through integration of differing groups; and the more closely affiliated these groups were with the former “oppressor,” the more likely target of violence they became. The language typical of Bulgaria’s nationalism echoes from the letter of a group of patriotic activists from Pazardzhik—who would eventually carry out the conversion of Pomaks in the central Rhodopes—to the Holy Synod of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, to Prime Minister Ivan Geshov, and to the Minister of Internal Affairs, Al. Lyutskanov, of December 1, 1912:

The Bulgarian soldiery fulfilled the trust laid upon them by the King and the People . . . The victorious Bulgarian troops gave freedom to our subjugated brothers beyond Rila and the Rhodope [Mountains]. Bulgaria is great, whole, and strong. But with this comes big responsibility: in future united Bulgaria, we will have many foreign peoples and faiths. And foreign faiths bring about foreign ideals. . . . One people, one society will be easier to rule and better off because unity of creed would enable that society to prevail. Even philanthropists dream of a mankind guided by the same moral principles—by one ideal. And what loftier, brighter ideal could mankind have than Christianity? We led a war not of conquest, but of freedom; a war of the Cross—the creator of all culture and civilization. 94 chapter 2

This is why, one of our goals must be to spread Christianity among all our future subjects. To enlighten and educate these citizens, we must inculcate Christianity in their minds. . . . Only Christianity will elevate his [the Pomak] mind and soften his heart. Only by embracing Christianity, will he be equal to us in the shared love for our country.120

All typical characteristics of the Romantic nationalism of violence are identifiable in this excerpt: Bulgaria moved to affirm sovereignty and control over the new territories by forcing the local Pomak population into religious conversion. The nation-state’s prevalent majority desperately sought sovereignty as a means to change their previous status of a subjugated people. For the ruling elites, the fastest and most efficient way to enforce territorial and cultural sovereignty was through violent assimilation. The Pomaks were an obvious target for assimilation from the start because they shared language with the nation’s dominant ethno-religious group. Their Islamic religion, however, posed two problems to Bulgaria’s ruling elite: First, Islam was the faith of the former Ottoman “oppressor.” Therefore, Islam constituted a religio-cultural identity against which the new Bulgarian nation sought to define itself by glorifying its Christian heritage and disparaging the “oppressor’s” Islamic one. Thus, according to the formula of the coercive nationalism, the Pomaks could not be Muslim and Ottoman. They had to be Orthodox Christians and Bulgarians. The 1912–1913 act of pokrŭstvane against them applied that formula of Romantic nationalism. The resulting violence, however, failed to win the Pomaks for the Bulgarian nation as might have democratic respect for their difference. This first comprehensive conversion had a lasting impact on Pomak identity and cultural heritage. The effect was twofold: First, the pokrŭstvane set a precedent for subsequent Bulgarian regimes to embark on brutal assimilations of their own of the Rhodopean Muslims (and Muslims in general). Second, for the first time, the relatively stable until then sense of Ottoman-Muslim identity of the Pomaks was shaken to its core by the label “descendants of forcibly converted Bulgarian Christians,” imposed on the community by force. Hence forth, this ideology would become the core value of Bulgarian nationalism in

120 Letter of a group of patriotic activists from Pazardzhik to the Holy Synod of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, to Prime Minister Ivan Geshov, and to the Minister of Internal Affairs, Al. Lyutskanov, from 1 December 1912. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 568, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 404, pages 1–3. (Georgiev and Trifonov, eds., 15.) Nationalism And Violence 95 respect to the Pomaks and their “proper” place within the (Christian) nation- state of Bulgaria. Following the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913, a series of patchy attempts to convert the Pomaks to Christianity took place before the communist takeover of 1944 in Bulgaria. While unsuccessful in terms of lasting impact, however, these further pokrŭstvanes kept alive the spirit of violent nationalism and the sense of alienation among the Pomaks. When the communist regime permanently supplanted the Bulgarian monarchy in the mid-1940s, the new atheistic leadership immediately denounced the latest Christianization of 1938–1944 as “fascist” and promptly aborted it, much to the Pomaks’ relief. Yet, this gesture of communist magnanimity was solely a political necessity which, once fulfilled, would unleash the most enduring assimilation yet—the vŭzhroditelen protses—with lasting implications for Pomak cultural identity today. The next two chapters discuss the nature and long-term impact of the communist name changing, including policy, political persecution, Pomak resistance, and dissenters’ exile. chapter 3 The Vŭzroditelen Protses: Identity Crisis and the Forced Renaming of the Pomaks (1944–1989)

The vŭzhroditelen protses (commonly translated as the revival process or rebirth) was the last forced assimilation of Pomaks in Bulgaria, and, for the first time, it targeted the Turkish-speaking Muslims, too. Because the Turkish vŭzhroditelen protses of 1984–1985 was much larger in scale, it ultimately obscured the Pomak name changing of 1972–1974. The following two chapters deal exclusively with the Pomak vŭzhroditelen protses, limiting the Turks’s assimilation to contextual reference only. Nevertheless, it is my hope that the revivalist campaign against the Turkish Muslims at least receives an adequate introduction in the next two narratives. While the nature and methods of both assimilations are identical, there is one significant difference. The first campaign targeted a smaller and ethnically ambiguous community in comparison—the Pomak Muslims, who shared linguistic ties with Bulgaria’s majority. The second one was directed against a highly defined and substantially larger minority group in Bulgaria, with strongly developed ethnic self-identity—the Turkish Muslims. Whereas chapter three is preoccupied with the vŭzhroditelen protses as a totalitarian policy, political persecution, and Pomak resistance as a collective experience, chapter four focuses of the life and struggles of Ramadan Runtov, a vocal anti- revivalist, political prisoner, and Pomak expatriate to Turkey.

Policy and Ideology of the Vŭzhroditelen Protses

Pre-communist Bulgaria was a turbulent place for the Rhodopean Muslims. After the grueling pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913,1 the Pomak hopes for a peaceful existence within their new country vanished completely. For a brief while, however, there were no forced conversions. In fact, during the Agrarian government of Alexander Stamboliyski, the Muslims of Bulgaria, and particularly the Pomaks, came to enjoy a substantial freedom of religion and cultural expression. But this period was short-lived and ended with the overthrow of Stamboliyski’s cabinet in June 1923. The situation became especially critical after 1934, when a military junta came to power. Toward the end of the 1930s

1 See chapter two.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��4 | doi ��.��63/9789004272088_��4 Vŭzroditelen Protses 97 and until 1944, a new humiliating pokrŭstvane of the Pomaks was underway. Unlike the tightly organized and sweeping Christianization of 1912–1913, this one was sporadic, patchy, and more propaganda-oriented. As a result, many Muslims were able to avoid the renaming altogether simply by going into hiding or learning to quickly slip away every time pokrŭstvane operatives showed up in their villages. A number of Muslims also fled to Turkey to permanently evade the conversion. After the communist takeover in Bulgaria of 1944–1945, the pokrŭstvane stopped. Moreover, within the first few years of the new regime, the political situation of the Pomaks improved significantly. In the first decade of their rule, the communist authorities were politically and culturally accommodating to the Muslims. “The Party,” as the regime came to identify itself, needed all support it could get to consolidate its power. The Pomaks, like most Muslims, were a relatively easy win. Any regime willing to be tolerant of them would have had their backing given the history of oppression under previous governments. Understandably, the communists seized the opportunity of that crucial moment. They took care to expressly incorporate provisions for the freedom of conscience and religion in the new constitution, adopted by the National Assembly in 1947. It became known as the Dimitrov Constitution, named after the then supreme communist leader Georgy Dimitrov. Ironically, while these constitutional guarantees were reaffirmed in the Law on Religious Denominations of 1949, all religious schools—until then the traditional form of schooling for all Muslims—were being shut down the very same year. Moreover, the second constitution adopted by the communists in 1971—at the zenith of the Pomak vŭzhroditelen protses—restated the freedom-of-conscience-and-creed guarantees (Article 53). Article 35(2) of this constitution specifically stipulated that “no privileges or limitation of rights based on nationality, origin, creed, sex, education, social and material status is allowed.”2 Simultaneously, the Bulgarian Penal Code criminalized the instiga- tion of hatred on religious grounds. Constitutional guarantees and criminal liability notwithstanding, laws amounted to nothing once the regime had determined to pursue the vŭzhroditelen protses. As early as the mid-1950s, the communist politics in Bulgaria began to change. By then, “The Party” had stabilized its control over the country and could comfortably consider a reversal of minority policy, especially in regard to the Muslims. The emerging communist nationalism saw the large number of people professing Islam (roughly a fifth of about seven million) in the country as a malignant growth within—what had to be—the healthy, ethnically

2 Cited in Ali Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria (New York: Routledge, 1997), 52. 98 chapter 3 uniform body of the nation. To achieve a homogenous and compliant nation, the regime put forward a suitable ideology, calculated to appeal to the patriotic sentiments of the ethnic majority. As the Bulgarian historian Vera Mutafchieva explains,

the Bulgarians began to be brainwashed en mass with fresh arguments about the “otherness” of Turks and Pomaks. Compared to the “interna- tionalism” [approach of relative freedom until then], a new conception developed: they were not only “the others,” they were moreover dangerous for our state because they strove to cut off a part of the national territory and to annex it to Turkey.3

This sudden recasting of Muslims as “the others” also sprang out of a trou- bling—for the communists—tendency among the Pomaks to identify as ethnic Turks, essentially synonymizing Muslim with Turkish. This presented a serious obstacle to the regime’s emerging ambitions to homogenize the nation by “reviving” all the country’s Muslims as “ethnic” Bulgarians. Apparently, the government first entertained the idea of ethnic homogenization, specifically via Muslim assimilation, during a plenum of the central committee (CC) of the Bulgarian Communist Party (BCP) in April 1956. The same year, the CC came up with a special directive “to raise the political and cultural level of the Bulgarians with Mohammedan faith in order to fully develop their sense of being inseparable from the Bulgarian nation and to actively engage them in the building of communism.”4 It was the authorities’ plan to build a unitary and tightly controlled nation in order to bolster and perpetuate their own rule of the country. The regime, however, did not immediately embark on this assimilation project. It was not until six years later— on April 5, 1962—that Politburo resolved to follow through with the “cultural revolution,” as they originally termed the vŭzhroditelen protses. They were to start with the Pomaks—as another Pomak assimilation would not be anything new—as well as with the smaller communities of Muslim Tatars and Gypsies who were also prone to cultivate a “distasteful” ethnic Turkish consciousness. They were to deal with the Turks later, when the time was ripe for the final and all-embracing stage of the vŭzhroditelen protses.

3 Vera Mutafchieva, “The Turk, the Jew, and The Gypsy,” in Relations of Compatibility and Incompatibility between Christians and Muslims in Bulgaria, ed. Antonina Zhelyazkova (Sofia: International Centre for Minority Studies and Intercultural Relations Foundation, 1994), 33. 4 Decision of Politburo of the Bulgarian Communist Party to Improve the Work on Cultivating National and Patriotic Awareness among the Bulgarians with Mohammedan Faith of 1973. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 446, page 1. Vŭzroditelen Protses 99

But the so-called Measures against the Self-Turkification of Gypsies, Tatars, and Bulgarians [Pomaks] Professing the Mohammedan Faith of 1962, seemingly with broader application, were intended mostly for the Pomaks. As “ethnic Bulgarians,” the Pomaks—above all others—could not be allowed to develop a “Turkish” self-consciousness. Thus, the 1962 directive promulgated the following “measures” to that effect: First, it barred the local “people’s councils” from allowing Pomaks and Gypsies to move into villages with ethnic Turkish population so as to prevent their cultural integration. Second, it enabled the Ministry of Education and Culture and the local councils (a) to forbid instruc- tion in the Turkish language at schools where Pomak (Tatar or Gypsy) children attended; (b) to refuse appointment of ethnic Turkish teachers to schools with predominantly Pomak (Tatar or Gypsy) students; and (c) to prevent Pomak (and Gypsy) children from sharing living quarters, within the full-board schools, with Turkish children. Third, it obligated the Bulgarian Academy of Science to organize “expeditions of historians, ethnographers, [and] philolo- gists” to the Rhodopes, traditionally inhabited by Muslims, in search of evidence for the Pomaks’ Bulgarian ancestry. Fourth, it created a special entity, an “Institute” at the Academy of Science, instructed to “study” the historical past of the Pomaks.5 To ensure the success of the revival enterprise, the authorities indeed relied on academics to scientifically establish the “pure” Bulgarian pedigree, initially, of the Pomaks and, later, of the Turks. As Ali Eminov points out, most of those summoned for the task “readily obliged and found the required ‘evidence’ everywhere they looked.” In the course of the 1960s and 1970s, the communist scholarship effectively proved the Bulgarian origins of the Pomaks by expanding “partial truth[s]” “into sweeping generalizations” and by producing “volumes of pseudo-scientific” literature. Thus, with a simple decision of “The Party,” a select body of compliant and self-gratifying “scientists” was able to rewrite history.6 With the past effectively falsified, the pressure began on Pomak men and women (a) to rid themselves of the traditional attire in favor of more modern dress style, (b) to substitute their traditional Turkish-Arab names with Bulgarian-Orthodox ones, and (c) to abandon any and all religious customs. In the course of implementing the “cultural revolution” in the Rhodopes during the early 1960s, many of the local communist apparatchiks, supported by law enforcement and Christian civilians, engaged in premeditated acts of

5 Theodore Zang and Lois Whitman, “Destroying Ethnic Identity: The Gypsies of Bulgaria,” Helsinki Watch (New York: Human Rights Watch, 1991), 69–73. 6 Eminov, 9–10. See also Zang and Whitman, 69–73. 100 chapter 3 cruelty and debasement of the population. Subsequently, on many occasions the population resisted and clashed with the authorities. To downplay the rising resistance, the communist regime came up with its third directive about the vŭzhroditelen protses on May 12, 1964. While acknowledging the violence against civilian Muslims, this directive was more concerned with portraying it as a necessary reaction to thuggish behavior. 7 The communist leadership’s last formal resolution on the Pomak assimilation came out on July 17, 1970. This document marked an important shift in the implementation of the vŭzhroditelen protses. From a relatively low-key undertaking by then, the assimilation effort was to become openly aggressive. This fourth directive no longer sought to conceal the renaming, but to speed it up and transform it into a nationwide campaign. Once in the open with the vŭzhroditelen protses by the 1970, the regime expressed impatience with its progress, describing it as “slacking lately and causing the negative processes of self-Turkifization among the Bulgarians with Mohammedan faith to become worse.”8 In the communist vocabulary, this meant stepping up with the violence. Thus, by the early 1970s, and especially “[a]fter the approval of the 1971 Constitution, the creation of a nation-state with a single language and homogenous culture became an explicit government policy.” After the 1974 Plenum of the Bulgarian Communist Party—and once the Pomaks were formally renamed—the term “unified Bulgarian socialist nation” officially entered the regime’s terminology in live speeches, in the printing press, and in electronic media.9 From the start, the underlying rationale for the vŭzhroditelen protses was of the following nature: The Muslims—Pomaks and Turks—within the nation were the culturally opposite other, because they were intimately associated with Bulgaria’s historical “enemy”—Turkey, the political successor of the former Ottoman “oppressor.” As such, they presented a danger to the integrity and stability of the Bulgarian nation. Therefore, they had to understand that they could not express an identity—Muslim or Muslim-Turkish—that went against the Bulgarian(-Christian) values. The Pomaks, in particular, were not to be allowed to join forces with the Turks. They were not Turks and they were

7 This is in accordance with summary information, included in the Politburo’s Decision to step up with the assimilation of 1973, quoted below. 8 Decision of Politburo of the Bulgarian Communist Party to Improve the Work on Cultivating National and Patriotic Awareness among the Bulgarians with Mohammedan Faith of 1973. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 446, page 3. 9 Eminov, 7–8. Vŭzroditelen Protses 101 not to be allowed to become Turks. They were to be assimilated; and forced to assimilate the Pomaks were.10 In a lengthy speech of 1985, Politburo member Milko Balev proudly called the vŭzhroditelen protses a “national rebirth,” initiated with the renaming of the Pomaks and successfully completed with the “revival” of the ethnic Turks. “Recognizing historic[al] truth,” he elaborated, “a large number of the descendants of forcibly Islamized Bulgarians . . . reconstituted their Bulgarian names. . . . [And by doing so, they] shed their fanaticism, freed themselves from the influence of conservatism . . . and strengthened their patriotic consciousness.” The high official made these statements before the ethnically mixed population of Haskovo, following the vicious conclusion of the Turkish renaming in 1985. Adding insult to injury, he declared the affair “a striking expression of a new historical awareness” among the ethnic Turks who—just like the Pomaks a decade earlier—had suddenly decided to take on Bulgarian names in acknowledgement of their true identity. As a finale, Balev clearly articulated the fundamental purpose of the vŭzhroditelen protses: “The People’s Republic of Bulgaria is one nation, her border incorporates no foreign territory, and not a single part of the Bulgarian people belongs to any other people or nation [emphasis added].”11 The regime threw this sort of nationalist rhetoric in the public sphere not only to remind the citizenry that “The Party” expected complete obedience from them, but also to manipulate the prevalent national sentiment. To achieve it, the majority population needed to believe the following: First, the assimilation was the will of the Bulgarian people, or at least carried out on behalf of the people—that is, the ethno-cultural majority. Second, the targeted communities—Pomaks and Turks—not only consented to the assimilation, but also “spontaneously” denounced their traditional cultural identity to “enthusi- astically” embrace a new one. The reason for it was their “sudden” realization of the “pure” origins they shared with the Bulgarian nation. Third, in post- factum perspective, Balev clarified, the vŭzhroditelen protses was a “good thing,” because: (a) it brought economic development to traditionally depressed areas (the Rhodopes was the case in point); (b) it opened a fanaticism-free environment for everyone; and (c) it helped instill patriotic consciousness in the Pomaks (and the Turks). Finally, the vŭzhroditelen protses fostered the achieve- ment of the foremost national objective. There was now a unitary, strong and indivisible nation-state for the Bulgarian people under the shrewd leadership of the communist party. As hard as it is to imagine that the regime truly

10 Ramadan Runtov, interview by author, Istanbul, Turkey, May 21, 2007. 11 Eminov, 13–14, (quoting original document). 102 chapter 3 believed in its own absurd ideology of ethnic purity and untainted origins, they certainly had their minds set on imposing artificial homogeneity. To accomplish this feat, however, they needed the support of the ethno-cultural majority. The very purpose of invoking nationalist ideology was precisely to manipulate the prevalent national sentiment as a form of political control. Manipulate it they did, especially by feeding unsightly propaganda to a largely Christian nation that had been previously dominated by discriminating Muslim rulers. Consequently, the previously conventional feelings of national dislike and suspicion toward anything Ottoman, Turkish, or Muslim escalated to hatred and xenophobia during the communist period (1944–1989). However, as the Ottoman Empire had been long gone by their time, the communists’ propaganda concentrated on attacking the Islamic faith and culture instead as the unpalatable surviving heritage of the former “oppressor.” And they did so in a particularly vicious way. Four points became the cornerstone of that ideological assault, as effectively summed up by Eminov. First, Islam was a backward, barbaric religion that had been imposed on the Bulgarian people (Pomaks being the “living proof” of that) by force for centuries. Second, Islam impeded the ethno-cultural and scientific renaissance of the Bulgarian people in the five centuries of “Ottoman yoke.” Third, foreign reactionary forces (notably Turkey and the West) used Islam to slander the Bulgarian socialist state by promoting nationalism and religious fanaticism among its Muslim population. Fourth, Islam was altogether obstructive to the integration of Muslims into the Bulgarian nation.12 In the spirit of this propaganda, a range of prominent Muslim rites were disparaged, condemned, and prohibited under penalty of criminal prosecu- tion. Accordingly, the regime outlawed circumcision as “a barbaric and pagan rite, a handover from the stone age.” Likewise, they forbade Ramazan (the Muslim month of fasting) because it allegedly “lowered one’s immunity to disease.” Moreover, it was economically detrimental to the country as it physically weakened the Muslim labor force—employed largely in agriculture—and, thus, lowered its productivity. Even the sacrificial slaughtering of lambs during Kurban Bayram (the Festival of Sacrifice) was banned for allegedly causing gastrointestinal disorders and for depriving the nation of much-needed foreign currency via the meat export. The conservative way in which Muslim women traditionally dressed was also problematic, because it symbolized their oppression by men. Finally, Muslim burial rites were altogether improper simply for being contrary to the “socialist practice.” Eminov aptly describes what constituted a “socialist burial”:

12 Eminov, 53. Vŭzroditelen Protses 103

Party officials were sent to Muslim funerals to make sure that the proper “socialist” ritual was carried out and that prayers were said in Bulgarian only. Muslims were not allowed to bury their dead in their own cemeteries [the cemeteries had to be mixed]. Turks and other Muslims were sent letters ordering them to cover with cement the tombstones of their close relatives with any Turkish or Arabic inscriptions or any Islamic symbols on them.13

The “socialist ritual,” it turns out, was actually a Bulgarian-Christian one, minus the most overt symbols of the faith such as the cross or the presence of Orthodox priests. But because Marxism and Leninism promoted atheism, the Bulgarian communism had to oblige. Although prayers were permitted during burials, they were in Bulgarian—a practice particularly offensive to the Pomaks who traditionally associated it with the pokrŭstvane.14 In addition,

Figure 3-1 Broken Tombstones from the Old Cemetery in Vŭlkossel.

13 Ibid., 60. 14 See chapter two. 104 chapter 3

Figure 3-2 Idem. The cemetery no longer exists, but, in 2007, I found its tombstones piled up in a corner of the current eastern cemetery of the village. The head stones were broken and the cemetery was bulldozed in the 1980s (I do not recall the exact year, though I recall how it looked), when the old mosque’s minaret was pulled down, too. The stone inscriptions are in Ottoman Turkish, written in the Arabic alphabet, which was the standard script of the Ottoman Empire. the conventional fez-shaped tombstones were entirely banned. In particular, the regime prohibited the carving of any and all Islamic symbols—including inscriptions in the Arabic or Turkish languages or alphabets, engravings of the crescent moon, and others—on the tombstones, instructing further that the existing such be cemented over or disposed of completely. Consequently, old Muslim cemeteries were changed beyond recognition or altogether wiped out.

Bringing about Identity Crisis

The vŭzhroditelen protses was a deeply bureaucratic and thorough affair. After 1974, the conventional Bulgarian-Christian names forced on the Pomaks had to appear on their passports, birth certificates, property deeds, savings account Vŭzroditelen Protses 105 papers, court certificates, and every other conceivable document. Those lacking the proper documentation, indicating Bulgarian identity, could not access their salaries, pensions, and bank accounts. In addition, they could not apply for a change of residence or job. Failure to produce new papers during frequent check-ups resulted in job loss, fine, and imprisonment. In order to acquire these papers, however, people had to attend especially organized public ceremonies during which they were handed the new passports with much pomp and ostentation. According to Yulian Konstantinov, Gulbrand Alhaug and Birgit Igla, in the Rhodopean town of Rudozem, with largely Pomak population, every person with revived name “would be asked to walk up to a ceremonial rostrum set up in the town square, where the applicant had to hand in his/her ‘old’ passport and receive a ‘new’ one.”15 Thus, with a simple change of papers, not only the living—adults, children, and newborns—but also their long-departed predecessors received new identities overnight. The revival affair, brandishing the banner of communist nationalism, imposed the sort of treatment that humiliated, traumatized, and ultimately alienated the Pomak community from the Bulgarian nation more than anything else. The events in the village of Lutovo, entirely inhabited by Pomaks, are indicative of what generally took place during the vŭzhroditelen protses in most Pomak communities:

The mosque was closed, residents were forced to adopt Christian names, and overnight the village—originally called Lutovo—was re-dubbed Sveta Petka, after the medieval patron saint of the Bulgarian nation. For almost two decades, circumcision was forbidden in Sveta Petka, as was the celebration of Muslim holy days. Soldiers and militiamen patrolled the streets to ensure that prohibitions were enforced, and in neighboring villages protesters were shot. Women were forbidden to wear their traditional dress of loose-fitting pantaloons under skirts or embroidered aprons; those refusing to abandon traditional attire were ejected from rural buses. Many chose to walk 10 or 20 kilometers to and from work or school each day rather than compromise Muslim codes of modest dress.16

15 Yulian Konstantinov, Gulbrand Alhaug and Birgit Igla, “Names of the Bulgarian Pomaks,” Nordlyd: Tromso University Working Papers and Language and Linguistics 17 (1991): 26. 16 Stephen Lewis, “Muslims in Bulgaria,” Saudi Aramco World 45, 3 (1994): 20–29. Also available at www.saudiaramcoworld.com/issue/199403/islam.in.bulgaria.htm. Accessed August 21, 2013. 106 chapter 3

The closing of mosques and the prohibition of worship was a traumatic experience across the Pomak villages. As Eminov points out, the mosque served several fundamental purposes. It was the house of worship, the “focus of ceremonies associated with core events in the Pomak Muslim life—birth, circumcision, marriage and death,” and the place where the elders of the community gathered to discuss, counsel, and act on important community affairs.17 Cutting the populace off from the source of their spiritual guidance, upon which they had traditionally depended, threw entire communities in turmoil. The vŭzhroditelen protses seemed like spiritual suicide to many Pomaks (and Muslims in general), because it demanded the negation of the very sense of self and identity they cherished. More specifically, it translated into accepting names—for oneself and one’s community—and subscribing to creeds that many perceived as belonging to the “enemy.” In addition, it commanded the acceptance of clothing style which defiled basic precepts of Muslim modesty. Overall, the vŭzhroditelen protses dictated the abandonment of age-old traditions, which formed the very fabric of Pomak life, including circumcision, religious holidays, as well as marriage-, birth-, and burial rites. Not only was this communist revivalism a traumatic disruption of life as people knew it, but also it was a factor that deepened the identity crisis among the community. Pomak insecurities over “Who we are?” began with Bulgaria’s independence from Ottoman rule in 1878, when their relatively stable identity as Ottoman Muslims was shaken to its core upon very quickly becoming Bulgarian subjects. Henceforth, the brutal push on the Pomaks to convert to the new dominant religion—Eastern Orthodox Christianity—was almost immediate. Whereas the pokrŭstvanes of 1912–1913 and 1938–1944 attempted to shift their sense of identity from Ottoman-Muslim to Bulgarian-Christian, the communist vŭzhroditelen protses proceeded to do the same on an atheist note, i.e., with emphasis of ethnicity rather than religion. The essence and purpose of the pokrŭstvane and the vŭzhroditelen protses, however, were the same. The systematic pressure on the community to assimilate not only destabilized Pomak identity over time, but it also created an enduring state of psycho- logical uncertainly as to who they were. As Tatjana Seypel effectively puts it, “[s]everal historic ‘interruptions’ have driven the Pomaks into a state of confusion in respect to their identity. The question put to them: ‘Who are you?’, forces them to all kinds of reactions, to taking this and that position, to option- ing in this and that way, to either resistance or opportunism, depending on the

17 Eminov, 59. Vŭzroditelen Protses 107 assumed purpose of the question or the questioner.”18 “When they are asked as to their identity,” Konstantinov, Alhaug, and Igla contend, “Pomaks practically always tend to hesitate. Some people prefer to utter the word ‘Pomak’ only in a subdued manner, just like the word ‘Gypsy’ or ‘Jew’ elsewhere.”19 Indeed, the matter of the Pomaks’ own sense of identity has been a complex one. Generally speaking, the question “Who are you?” directed at the Pomak community will receive a variety of answers, largely depending on who asks the question, on one side, and who responds to it, on the other. If a markedly nationalistic Christian Bulgarian inquires, he or she is most likely to receive a defiant answer of the sort: “I am Muslim/Turkish!” or “I am Pomak!” To a dis- cernibly friendly interviewer, the answer will likely be more analytical as the respondent will feel more at ease: “The Bulgarians [Christians] believe us to be Bulgarians. We are Muslims by faith, but we speak the Bulgarian language. So we are Bulgarian citizens and Muslims.” To a trust-inspiring insider—I have been perceived as one—the answer will be earnestly straightforward: “Well, you know that we are Pomaks! I don’t know if we descend from Christians who converted to Islam, as the Bulgarians claim, or we have always been Muslims?20 But one thing is certain: We are Pomaks.” What might follow afterwards would likely be some intimate musings over who the Pomaks “truly” are, contingent upon the respondent’s personal leanings (pro-Bulgarian, pro-Turkish, or neither). However, whereas this scenario may apply to the majority of Pomaks, who firmly establish themselves as Muslims, there is still a small segment of the community who has either converted to Orthodox Christianity through the years, or altogether avoids any Muslim self-reference. This latter group may demonstrate affinity for the forcibly Islamized-Christians theory of Pomak

18 Tatjana Seyppel, “The Pomaks of Northeastern Greece: An endangered Balkan population,” Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs 10 (January 1989): 43. Also in Eminov, 108. 19 Konstantinov, Alhaug and Igla, 46. 20 Many amateur Pomak historians as well as some scholars, including Mehmed Dorsunski and Salih Bozov, argue—largely on the basis of old Muslim tombstones inscribed in Arabic—that the Pomak population of the Rhodopes had professed the Islamic faith prior to the Ottoman conquest in the Balkans during the late fourteenth century (which argument defies the official Bulgarian historiography’s claim about the Pomak forced Islamization by the Ottoman Turks). Although claims of old Muslim tombstones have independently been made across the Rhodopes—most of them reportedly destroyed by the communist regime or hidden away for safekeeping—I have encountered no clear evidence of such to date. (See Mehmed Dorsunski, interview by author, Madan, Bulgaria, June 15, 2007; Salih Bozov, V imeto na imeto (Sofia, Bulgaria: Liberal Integration Foundation, 2005), passim; Ibrahim Imam and Senem Konedareva, Ablanitsa prez vekovete (Ablanitsa, 2008), passim). 108 chapter 3 origins, because it justifies their own conversion to Christianity, and/or it com- mands an instant approval and acceptance by the national Christian majority. Pomak converts to Christianity, for their part, would directly reject the designa- tion “Pomak” and fully identify as ethnic Bulgarians of the Orthodox Christian faith. In the light of such ambiguity, Konstantinov, Alhaug, and Igla have come up with a two-level identity structure predicated on religious and ethnic affiliation in an attempt to shed light on the Pomak complex sense of self:21

Two-Level Identity Structure Among Muslims

Pomak Turk Bulgarian

First (Islamic) Pomak = Muslim Turk = Muslim Bulgarian = non-Muslim level Second (ethnic) Pomak = not-pure Turk Bulgarian level Turk

Thus, according to Konstantinov, Alhaug, and Igla, the Pomaks have two major levels of identity affiliation: religious-Muslim and ethnic-Turkish/Bulgarian. On the level of Muslim identification, the notions Pomak and Turk equal Muslim, while Bulgarian means non-Muslim (i.e., Christian). In this sense, Pomaks with firmly established Muslim identity could identify equally well as Pomaks or Turks, but not as Bulgarians, because to identify as Bulgarians would mean identifying as Christians, too. The root-cause of this bitter sentiment can be traced directly back to the pokrŭstvane and the vŭzhroditelen protses, whereupon Eastern Orthodox Christianity, as well as Bulgarian Christian names and traditions, were forced upon the Muslim Pomaks while their own culture was suppressed. On the level of ethnic identification, according to the authors, Pomak con- notes impure Turk, while Turk and Bulgarian remain pure concepts. However, even when the name Pomak equals impure Turk, the ethnic self-identification Pomak remains more prevalent than the Bulgarian(-Christian) one. In other words, more members of the Pomak community are likely to identify as Pomaks, even if the appellation implies impurity, than as ethnic Bulgarians even if it guaranteed clean origins. Ultimately, Konstantinov, Alhaug, and Igla stipulate—and rightly so—that in a formal context, the Pomaks insist on

21 Konstantinov, Alhaug and Igla, 27. Vŭzroditelen Protses 109 being Muslims—i.e., identify on religious level—while in an in-group setting, there is a sincere discussion of a more nuanced ethnic identity that is neither entirely pro-Turkish, nor entirely anti-Bulgarian. As the authors put it:

In a formal, out-group context—such as an official discussion of identity problems at a meeting , when reading and discussing what the papers write about the issue, or in conversation with Bulgarians [Christians]— the religious level seems to be activated. Consequently Pomaks find it difficult to believe that they are Bulgarians since that will mean that they are non-Mohammedans [Muslims]. An “ethnic” interpretation of the identity issue is only possible therefore in an in-group context of discussion, but even then, it has to be borne in mind, a popular description such as “impure Turk” does not automatically lead to identifying with the Bulgarian majority.22

In the words of a state official, Stephen Lewis seems to capture the essence of the complex Pomak self-identification: “In the Western Rhodopes, where Bulgarian Muslims live among Christian Bulgarians, they refer to themselves as Turks; in the Eastern Rhodopes, where they are surrounded by ethnic Turks, they stress their identity as Bulgarians.”23 However, there is one extra nuance in the whole picture: one that lies between the pro-Turkish and pro-Bulgarian affiliations—the sense of being Pomak. As Konstantinov, Alhaug, and Igla say, “[c]aught in [the] traditional nationalistic conflict between Bulgarians and Turks, . . . the Pomaks find it difficult to say who they are in any consistent terms beyond the label ‘Pomak.’”24 Lately, a growing number of Rhodopean Muslims find it increasingly acceptable—indeed, desirable—to identify as Pomaks, i.e., Bulgarian-speaking Muslims, occupying the border-zone between the ethnic Bulgarian and the ethnic Turkish identity. Being and feeling fully neither, the community has been gradually carving an identity of its own out of the crisis generated by the pokrŭstvane and the vŭzhroditelen protses.

22 Konstantinov, Alhaug and Igla, 46. 23 Lewis, 27. 24 Konstantinov, Alhaug and Igla, 26. 110 chapter 3

From Pokrŭstvane to Vŭzhroditelen Protses

1 The Rebirth of Organization Rodina That the pokrŭstvane and the vŭzhroditelen protses were one and the same policy pursued by different national regimes is evident from the fact that it was executed by the same agent, the Organization Rodina—a most hated entity among the Pomaks. Rodina emerged on March 3, 1937, in Smolyan (Eastern Rhodopes) as a mixed organization of Bulgarian-Christian patriots and some Pomak zealots who preached the idea of conversion among the Rhodopean Muslims. Actively supported by the Axis-allied monarchic regime of Bulgaria during the Second World War, they literally carried out the pre-communist pokrŭstvane of the Pomaks in 1938–1944. The communist party’s stance on Organization Rodina,25 as (one of) the chief pokrŭstvane perpetrator, upon taking power in 1944 was one of condemnation. That attitude remained unchanged for the next decade or so largely because it served the regime’s interest in holding on to Pomak (and Muslim) loyalty. At a propaganda conference in Gotse Delchev—one of the many which the regime had begun to routinely initiate to address Pomak issues—on January 5, 1961, the scholar Kiril Vassilev unequivocally described Rodina as “fascist”:

The intimidation of the Bulgarian Mohammedans during the Second World War was extremely violent. The fascist regime created the Bulgarian-Mohammedan organization Rodina in the Rhodopes which they used to oppress that population. They willfully tore the ferezhes of the women and mistreated the population. The most appalling abuse over this people’s conscience took place under the banner “For culture!” The bourgeoisie was not in the least concerned about the wellbeing of the Bulgarian Mohammedans. They were only interested in completing a new pokrŭstvane [emphasis added]. [A newspaper clipping from Pirinsko Delo, Issue 3, 11 January 1961].26

In the late 1950s and early 1960s, however, the communist authorities began a slow, cautious, and painstaking process of restoring Rodina’s reputation.

25 Report on Verifying the Activities of the Former Bulgarian-Mohammedan Organization Rodina of August 1, 1960. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 475, page 9. 26 Included in the Expose of Alexander Karamandzhukov, former member of Organization Rodina, against the claims of Kiril Vassilev about Rodina from January 25, 1961. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 476, page 2. Vŭzroditelen Protses 111

During the April Plenum of 1956, the communist party had secretly decided to launch its own “pokrŭstvane” of the Pomaks—as well as of all Bulgarian Muslims in due course—and it needed a Rodina-type agency with Pomak membership to provide legitimacy for the move. The party leadership decided that the best way to pursue this goal was to resurrect Rodina by gradually revamping its tainted image and by recasting its former activities as patriotic rather than fascist. Thereafter, former leaders of the organization like Khristo Karamandzhukov, Petŭr Marinov, and Svetoslav Dukhovnikov (the renamed Pomak Mehmed Dervishev), previously denounced as “fascists,” were now urged to praise Rodina’s former mandate as a “fight” against the religious fanaticism and for “the cultural growth of the Bulgarians of Mohammedan faith.”27 During the Gotse Delchev conference, Svetoslav Dukhovnikov—one of the chief Pomak activists of Rodina and former mufti (Muslim religious leader) of the Smolyan Region—issued the following proclamation:

We, the Bulgarian Mohammedans—who have been burning with the fire of our /the Bulgarian Mohamedans’/ revival—approve and completely support this campaign. We are happy, because we see in it the ideal we had fought so hard to achieve [in the past] through the work of the Bulgarian Mohammedan cultural-educational and charitable organization Rodina[.] [A]nd we are convinced that it [the vŭzhroditelen protses] will contribute to resolving the Bulgarian-Mohammedan question in the Rhodopes once and for all [emphasis added].28

Rhetoric of this kind, uttered by Pomaks, was all the justification the Bulgarian communists needed to carry out the planned assimilation through the same means—violence—and via the same agent—Rodina, previously condemned as fascist. The ideology and rogue methods used by the Christian members of Rodina and their Pomak recruits in pursuing conversion had become such a constant in the lives of the Rhodopean Muslims during the 1940s that they learned to cope with the precarious circumstance, and even laugh at it. In an archival document of 1960, when Rodina was slowly coming back, Petŭr Marinov—one of the chief ideologists of the organization—describes a routine pokrŭstvane assault in the following way:

27 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 476, page 5. 28 Expose of Svetoslav Dukhovnikov of February 13, 196. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 476, page 8. 112 chapter 3

[W]hen Rodina activists would start jumping out from various directions [onto the unsuspecting population to tear ferezhes and fezzes], people would begin shouting: “Run, run! The Culture is coming! Hide! Quickly! The damn Culture will get you . . .” [emphasis added]29

By “culture,” the Rhodopean Muslims sarcastically referred to Rodina’s proclaimed objective to work for the “cultural growth” of the “Bulgarian Mohammedans”—quite frankly—by Christianizing them. However, the Rodina tactics of instilling “culture” resembled a medieval robbery ambush more than any sensible effort at the cultural advancement of the population. Nor did the Pomaks believe any part of the “cultural growth” propaganda. Rodina’s actions defied any such believing. An entry of Marinov’s diary from June 1, 1940, provides the following account of Rodina’s brigand style of pokrŭstvane, which, moreover, acted on government instructions:

Last night we organized groups with the mission to rip ferezhes[.] [T]hat action will start tomorrow. Khusko [most likely a Rodina member] hosted our meeting. The members present were divided into three groups: the first was assigned to go around the Chokovska makhala [neighborhood], the second—to the Chilingirska makhala and Sredok, the third—to the Gorna makhala. Yurdan, the plain-clothed secret agent from Smolyan, was there to provide [government] instructions. We are planning an action for tomorrow. Around ten people would block the crossroads to tear ferezhes and veils [emphasis added].30

In another entry, Marinov continues:

Yesterday, the members of Rodina ripped 3–4 fezzes and they’ve decided to continue doing that tomorrow. They’ve each got their assigned neighborhoods and hamlets to go to and remove fezzes [emphasis added].31

29 Report on Verifying the Activities of the Former Bulgarian-Mohammedan Organization Rodina from August 1, 1960. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 475, page 14. 30 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 39, Archival Unit 40, page 18. 31 Report on Verifying the Activities of the Former Bulgarian-Mohammedan Organization Rodina from August 1, 1960. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 475, page 14. Vŭzroditelen Protses 113

As Marinov’s diary continues, an entry of May 4, 1940, clearly shows the government’s direct involvement in the pokrŭstvane. “Interesting news is coming from Zlatograd [Eastern Rhodopes, formerly Darıdere],” Marinov wrote, “The military authorities and the police there had undertaken an action to remove the ferezhes which work is nearing completion. . . . Every gendarme and soldier, armed with scissors, has been going around town cutting ferezhes. . . . and pulling down yashmaks [female cover garment].” Because of the flagrantly “Muslim” female garment, the Rodina crusaders were especially concerned with Pomak women. “They have finally started to put on dresses,” Marinov continued, “but underneath those they still wear shalvars [broad trousers]. So the soldiers . . . began to stop [the] women and cut out their [shalvars’] leggings, or anything else hanging out from under their dresses. The same is being done in the villages around Zlatograd.” As “some of the local Muslim dignitaries tried to complain above [to the government],” Marinov explained, “they were told that whatever the local authorities decided—went. So they had to comply and nothing else . . . [emphasis added]”32 Alexander Karamandzhukov was one of the staunchest crusaders of the pokrŭstvane in the 1940s and a prominent agent of the Axis-allied monarchic regime of Bulgaria. He was among those whom the communist authorities immediately branded “fascist” and treated as a “people’s enemy” of the most “reactionary” kind upon takeing over in 1944. In the early 1960s, however, Karamandzhukov, along with other former Rodina activists, reemerged in the limelight as “patriot.” Ironically, it was this former communist enemy- turned-comrade who most appropriately verbalized the common nature of the pokrŭstvane and—what was to become—the vŭzhroditelen protses:

Were we to juxtapose the objectives and activities of the Organization Rodina with the fundamental line of the [Communist] Party and state politics in the Rhodopes, we will see that they coincide.33

Prior to the 1960s, to compare the communist politics regarding the Pomaks to the former activities of Rodina would have been extremely dangerous for anyone venturing to make such a statement. By the year 1960, however, former members of Rodina were not only coming back into favor with the new regime

32 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 39, Archival Unit 40, pages 17–18. Also, Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 488, page 17. 33 Report on Verifying the Activities of the Former Bulgarian-Mohammedan Organization Rodina from August 1, 1960. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 475, page 19. 114 chapter 3 already, but they were also encouraged to praise Rodina publicly. In the initial decade of communist rule, a political approval of Rodina would have been unthinkable, largely because the Muslim support for the regime rested exclusively on its condemnation of the organization and reversal of the pokrŭstvane. But only a decade later, the communist party was contemplating the resurrection of Rodina. The organization and its members—seasoned assimilation- ists—were going to be instrumental in the latest “pokrŭstvane” of the Pomaks, euphemistically termed the vŭzhroditelen protses. Although it is generally presumed that the Pomak revival happened in the period 1972–1974, the actual assimilation had begun at least a decade earlier and it was formally concluded in 1974. A plethora of archival documentation attests to the early start of the affair (including those discussing plans to bring back Rodina). For example, as early as November 1962, the municipal party committee of the “largely Bulgarian-Mohammedan” municipality of Lŭdzha sent to their superiors in Smolyan the following statistics: (1) Of a population totaling over 4,000, “[m]ore than 99% of the men wear hats or go bear- head,” and just under one percent wearing the fez; (2) “Around 75–80% of the women . . . put the new attire /dresses/. . . . Almost no ferezhe could be seen in our area. No more than 2% of the women /mostly old ones/ still stick to the ferezhe. The remaining 98% of the women in the municipality no longer wear the ferezhe.” In addition to censoring male and female garment, the authorities were also targeting Pomak names. The same archival document reports that “170 individuals from our area [the Lŭdzha municipality] have already restored their Slavic [Bulgarian-Christian] names [as of 1962].”34 In summary, as evident from the report, the primary targets of this early “cultural revolution” were: (a) women’s clothing, particularly the over-garment, ferezhe; (b) men’s Ottoman-style fez; and (c) the conventional Arab-Turkish names of the Pomaks. Thus, an important region-wide statistics of Smolyan as of November 15, 1962, shows the number of Rhodopean Muslims with censored attire and changed names by villages and towns:

34 A report of the municipal committee of the communist party in Lŭdzha to the regional party committee in Smolyan from November 13, 1962. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1Б, Inventory 38, Archival Unit 20, page 7. Vŭzroditelen Protses 115

Table 3-1 Number of Pomaks with Censored Attire and Changed Names by Villages and Towns

Population Number of people Number of people Village/Town without the old attire with new names Men women*

Smolyan 3,978 3,832 3,760 122 Madan – – 920 186 Rudozem – 1.400 700 170 Zlatograd – – 1,480 557 Devin 2,875 3,085 1,366 829 Vŭrbina – – 40% [handwritten] 61 Davidkovo – – 480 58 Dospat – – . . . [illegible] 24 [handwritten] Zagrazhden – – 1,500 450 Zmeitsa – – 25% [handwritten] 82 Lŭdzha – – 98% [handwritten] 170 Lŭki – 1,700 1,660 639 Mikhalkovo – – 487 579 Mogilitsa – – . . . [illegible] 457 Mugla – 400 200 75 Nedelino – 2,535 890 806 Smilyan – 610 540 174 Slaveynovo – – 60% [handwritten] 233 Trigrad – – 180 55 Khvoyna – – 1,050 810 Chepelare – – 1,800 50

* Note: The statistics concerning women refer to those under 40-years of age.35

Albeit incomplete and likely inflated for propaganda purposes, this statistics nevertheless clearly establish that the vŭzhroditelen protses was taking place as early as 1962 and on a considerable scale. Whereas the early emphasis of the assimilation was apparently on garment, with a success rate consistently over fifty percent, the more difficult renaming was taking place as well. In Pomak

35 Information about Those Emancipated from the Old Bulgarian-Mohammedan Attire and Those Reviving Their Bulgarian Names in the Smolyan Region as of 15.IX.1962. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1Б, Inventory 38, Archival Unit 20, page 16. 116 chapter 3 villages like Devin, Nedelino, and Khvoyna, the share of people with “restored” names in 1962 ranged from one fourth to one third of the total population, according to rough estimates based on the above table. This is a significant percentage considering the early stage of the vŭzhroditelen protses and the staunch Pomak opposition to the comprehensive renaming a decade later. From the very beginning, however, the communist party tried to portray the revivalism as an en-mass, “spontaneous,” and “voluntary” movement of the Pomak population toward reclaiming their Bulgarianness. In spite of personal risks, though, people were protesting the assimilation before the highest communist authorities. There are examples of individual and group complaints filed with the communist party leadership by parents whose newborns were registered with Bulgarian-Christian names without their consent. Alish Husseinov Bantov of Rakitovo, Pazardzhik Region, for example, petitioned the Presidium of the People’s Parliament of Bulgaria to have his newborn son registered with a Muslim name. “I am a Muslim,” he wrote, “and my wish was that my son [born on December 23, 1961] bore a Muslim name, too. But the midwife [in the hospital] refused to respect my wishes. The same midwife registered my child with the local [people’s] council on her own accord, including by signing the certificate of live birth in my stead, while completely neglecting to consider the name I had chosen for my son.” When a few days later, Alish inquired about the birth certificate in the people’s council in Rakitovo, he was informed that he would have to register his son with a Bulgarian-Christian name in order to receive the document. “When I refused to do so,” Alish goes on, “the comrades from the council threatened to pick a name [for my child] themselves. [They told me] they could do that without my consent. I [hereby] decisively protest against the willful act of the comrades from the council [to name my child for me]. I believe that every citizen is equal before the law and that coercion of the above kind cannot be exerted against anyone. I also believe that changing one’s name is a matter of personal choice, not of intimidation.”36 In another instance, Emin Ahmedov Kutsosmanov and Azmina Mehmedova Kutsosmanova, husband and wife from the village of Dzhurkovo, Smolyan Region, write to the Presidium of the People’s Parliament:

Comrade Chairman, On July 13, 1962, a child of male gender was born to us /we are spouses/ in the hospital in the village of Lŭki, Smolyan Region.

36 A letter from August 21, 1962. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 28, Archival Unit 29, page 2. Vŭzroditelen Protses 117

We both wish that our son bears the name Shaban. However, in the course of 40 days now, the people’s municipal council in Lŭki prevents us from registering the child with the above name by refusing to issue a birth certificate for him[.] I have been working in an underground mine for 8 years and the council prevents me from collecting my benefits under the family incentive plan by not issuing a birth certificate for my child. I hereby implore you to order that a certificate of live birth be issued for my son with the name we desire for him, [Shaban].

Please, let us know of any development on the matter of our request.

August 21, 1962. V.[illage of] Lŭki 1/ [Husband’s signature]

Parents: Respectfully: 2/ [Wife’s signature]37

Ordinary people, whose newborns were registered with Bulgarian names, or not registered at all when parents refused to accept the imposed names, addressed their petitions directly to the top communist leadership. Apparently, this early in the vŭzhroditelen protses, many still believed that the willful abuse of their basic civil rights were solely the act of prejudiced local bureaucrats. Once the central authorities received these complaints, however, they forwarded them back to the same people’s councils of which the parents were complaining. The returned petitions were usually accompanied by brief instructions for the latter on how to proceed with the complaints. The format and content of the instructional letters are fairly standard and of the kind below:

To the Regional Committee of BCP

[The Bulgarian Communist Party]—Pazardzhik

Comrades, We are sending you the complaints of Musa Yuseinov Utev, Alish Yuseinov Bantsov, Kezim Yuseinov Drikov, Ahmed Mustafov Tronov and Shefket Abdula Serbezov, all from the village of Rakitovo[.] [T]hese people complain that their newborns have been registered with [Bulgarian- Christian] names to which they did not consent.

37 Ibid., 18. 118 chapter 3

It is necessary that the Regional Committee investigates those cases and takes measures to prevent such acts from happening. [At the same time, they must] continue the mass-political and ideological work on raising the national awareness and the communist nurturing of those Bulgarians professing the Mohammedan faith [emphasis added].

Head of “Propaganda and Persuasion” department of central committee of BCP: /V. Ivanov/38

Seemingly harmless, these instructional letters are important for two reasons. First, they are revealing of the communist leadership’s care to produce “evidence” to be used to absolve them from responsibility should the vŭzhroditelen protses escalate into violence. In other words, by seemingly instructing the local councils to investigate the complaints, the top bureaucrats were simply making sure that they would be able to wash their hands of a potentially bloody affair and squarely blame it on their regional puppets. Second, these instructional letters highlight the reality of secrecy, in which the vŭzhroditelen protses was supposed to take place, at least initially. “The Party” formally directed the lower bureaucrats to prevent excesses simply to be able to say, if need be, that they took people’s complaints to heart, and that the abuse was unbeknown to them. Thus, in the very same letters, the communist leaders were simultaneously instructing their local agents to carry on with the assimilation by means of propaganda and persuasion. In a sense, the only purpose of these instructing letters was to cover up the leadership’s direct involvement in the affair. In his report to the Politburo of the Communist Party, Angel Spassov—a local Smolyan revivalist—plainly speaks of the regime’s intentions to assimilate the “Bulgarian Mohamedans.” The document specifies that the decision to “revive” the Pomaks (as well as all Turks) was taken during the April Plenum of the communist party in 1956. Quite obviously, even at this early date, “The Party” had several clear objectives: to “enhance their [the Pomaks’] national consciousness”; to persuade the Pomaks of an ancestry rooted in “forced Islamization” claims; to remove women’s ferezhes and men’s fezzes; to organize sewing and cooking classes for women as assimilation incentives; and to “restore” the Bulgarian-Christian names of the Pomak Muslims.39

38 Ibid., 5. 39 Expose on Raising the National Awareness of Bulgarian Mohammedans and on the Organization Rodina from January 5, 1963, by Angel Spasov of Smolyan, Raykovo Vŭzroditelen Protses 119

The same report explains why the regime regarded the revitalization of Rodina of critical importance to the vŭzhroditelen protses against the Pomaks. First, for the communist party, the organization had already proven its efficiency by having converted more than 80,000 “Bulgarian Mohamedans” in the period 1938–1944. Second, in its pre-communist existence, Rodina had func- tioned as a well-oiled pokrŭstvane machine for several crucial reasons: (a) it had Muslim clerics in its ranks, including Mehmed Dervishev, also known as Svetoslav Dukhovnikov, once the chief mufti of the Smolyan Region; (b) it had a well-established propaganda apparatus; (c) it had a print medium of its own, “Collection Rodina”; (d) it was served by seasoned ideological activists, including the writer Petŭr Marinov; (e) it had efficiently disseminated propaganda before, including via such initiatives as luncheons, book reading activities, and formal conferences; (f) above all, however, Rodina had a proven success in recruiting Pomak members.40 Thus, the efforts of bringing Rodina back to life began in earnest early in the 1960s. The regime, which formerly persecuted the organization as “fascist” and “anti-communist,” was now chanting: “Bring back Rodina—history will judge us less severely if we rehabilitate a progressive organization like Rodina. . . . [W]e will remove the insult we dealt to the Rodina members by calling them fascist. We will win them over and help them—and with renewed self-confidence, they will be able to resume their mission.”41 And there was no doubt what Rodina’s “mission” was. An official expose of January 1963 makes a som- ber evaluation of the long history of Pomak assimilation:

Bulgarianizing the names [of the Pomaks] will be very difficult now, because in the course of 50 years, the same people were made to change their names four times. In 1912 their names were forcedly replaced with Bulgarian ones[.] [I]n 1914, [Vassil] Radoslavov [then Bulgaria’s prime minister] restored their Turkish names[.] [I]n 1940–1944, Rodina Bulgarianized their names for a second time, and after September 9, 1944 [the official date of communist takeover], we “restored” their Turkish names yet again. Now we want to change their names for the fifth time.42

Neighborhood. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 478, pages 1–17. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid., 16. 42 Ibid. 120 chapter 3

Indeed, available evidence leaves no doubt that the communist government planed the resurrection of Rodina—after having purposely destroyed it just a decade earlier—precisely to carry out the fifth forced assimilation of the Pomaks since 1912.

2 Mission: “Revival” Soon after the regime’s dramatic change of heart regarding Rodina, reports of intimidation and violence against the Pomak population began pouring into “The Party’s” headquarters in Sofia. An extensive report—labeled “classified”—of the regional party committee’ secretary in Smolyan, N. Palagachev of October 1963, details the ill-treatment that occurred in Dospat, Kŭsŭka, Trigrad, and Nedelino.43 What follows is a summary of the coercive acts against the Pomak population of those villages, as reported in the above and related documents, which were designed to force people to renounce their traditional names and attire: First, men with fezzes (Ottoman-style headdress) and women in ferezhes (outer cover garment) or shalvars (traditional broad trousers) were prohibited from entering stores to buy basic groceries unless they put on hats and dresses respectively. In Dospat (the Western Rhodopes), the action of barring people from access to goods went on for nearly two weeks. During this time, two shop clerks were sacked from work and two others were dismissed from the communist party for servicing the population in violation of the prohibition. Second, women were constantly harassed by orders to report to the local “people’s councils,” where communist apparatchiks methodically pressured them to replace the shalvars with dresses. Those refusing to comply were fined, further harassed, and/or had essential family property confiscated, including beds, mattresses, covers, and clothes. Furthermore, the authorities staged mock court trials to frighten the women into submission. For example, in the village of Kŭsŭka, the revivalists turned a classroom into a makeshift courtroom, while an adjacent room became a clothing store, outfitted with a changing room. While the intimidation of women happened in the first classroom, where mock judges ordered them to change their clothing, the actual transformation took place in the second classroom. After being “sentenced,” each Pomak woman was directed into the clothing store next door, where two female school teachers (possibly Christian?) would sell her a dress, make sure she put it on, and carefully record the price of the dress into an account- ing ledger. The thus “revived” woman would finally sign the account, thereby “agreeing” to pay for the dress. The cost of the new attire, which the woman neither wanted nor could afford, would be automatically withheld from her

43 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 39, Archival Unit 40, pages 128–145. Vŭzroditelen Protses 121 paycheck at the local agricultural cooperative. This way, the cooperative, which had itself provided the clothes for the makeshift store, would retain a portion of the woman’s future earnings. As the same archival document specifies, the dress-reviving action in Kŭsŭka lasted for two days. Meanwhile, machine guns were fired on purpose during the intervening night (most probably with blanks or in the air?) “to scare the most stubborn of the women.”44 Third, the regime formed special commissions of revivalists—usually local party bureaucrats and all sorts of salaried individuals, including school teachers—for the purpose of making surprise visits to Pomak neighborhoods and households to further harass the population. These “commissioners” had the discretionary powers to use force and remove ferezhes, shalvars, black headscarves, or anything they deemed “un-Bulgarian.” Fourth, members of the communist party, in some position of authority, were under obligation to inspect the homes of their subordinates to make sure that the latter’s wives were properly clad in dresses. If they were not, the “culprits” were to be promptly fired from work. Fifth, all salaried members of the communist party—including those employed in agriculture—whose wives did not wear dresses, either lost their jobs or were altogether dismissed from “The Party.” Sixth, women not wearing the dress could not go to work and receive pay, including those who performed the lowest menial labor in the local agricultural cooperatives. Seventh, those of the women who refused to change to the dress had their basic clothing confiscated or destroyed. The following is reported from the village of Bukovo (the Western Rhodopes) to that effect:

The most stubborn women like Fatma Shukrieva, Safie Zaleva, and Fatma Kassapchieva . . . had their clothes taken away. This act of the commissioners had offended the women, who began to call them [the commissioners] criminals, thieves, and so on. The commissioners have also been threatened by the said women’s husbands. Zaim Kassapchiev, for example, had threatened that when his son came back from Madan, he would kill the commissioners and then go to prison[.] Karim Zalev [further threatened] that the commissioners’ “heads would fly off by his son’s hand.”45

44 Ibid., 129. 45 People made such threats out of utter frustration, not because they really ever considered acting upon such “promises.” Were there such occurrences, they would have been broadly reported in the archival documents, but I found no evidence to that effect. 122 chapter 3

To eliminate the danger, those two [Zaim Kassapchiev and Karim Zalev], as well as two others, Softov and Dzhaferov, will have to be “filtrated.”46*

Eight, people who refused to conform to the communist policy regarding the change of names or clothing were routinely ill-treated, both physically and psychologically. As one available record puts it, a “typical example” of com- monplace abuse against Pomaks constituted the “conduct of the deputy chairman of the Rakitovo municipal council, who was also in charge of [the vŭzhroditelen protses in the village of] Kostandovo.” “Two years ago,” the document reports in 1963, “he was removed from his office, because he struck the local teacher—a Bulgarian-Mohammedan—for refusing to change his name. Within six months, however, he had been reinstated and had immediately exacted revenge against the said teacher by refusing to sign the college application form of that teacher’s nephew. I [Prof. Georgy Gŭlŭbov who reports the case to the authorities] advised the aggrieved party to file a complaint with the [party’s] central committee, which he did, only to be threatened with worse consequences should he complain any further.”47 Ninth, whereas Pomaks who resisted the vŭzhroditelen protses became political and social outcasts, those who willingly accepted Bulgarian names were appointed to various salaried positions. Tenth, the communist regime discriminated against Pomak youths by overwhelmingly assigning them to labor units in the armed forces. Thus, Muslim conscripts spent the three-year mandatory military service not as soldiers, but as construction workers and common laborers. The following quote from the above report testifies to that policy:

46 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 39, Archival Unit 40, page 134. * The word “filtrated” (in Bulgarian “филтрирани”) is used in quotation marks in the original document. Taking into consideration the totalitarian character of the regime and the seriousness of the vŭzhroditelen protses, the word may be interpreted to mean any action on the part of the regime against these individuals ranging from mistreatment, through labor camp and imprisonment, to death. It is not recorded what happened to the people in question. 47 Report of Prof. Georgi Gŭlŭbov, chairing the committee in charge of implementing the vŭzhroditelen protses to the “Propaganda and Persuasion” department of the central committee of the communist party, circa 1963. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 12, page 4. Vŭzroditelen Protses 123

The greater part of them [young Pomaks] is not admitted to the regular armed forces, but in labor units. This automatically places them in that category of young people who are not trusted [by the party].48

Ramadan Runtov, whom I interviewed in May of 2007, confirms this information. Between 1951 and 1954, he was in a labor unit of the armed forces himself. Ramadan went through intensive construction training in the army and rose to the rank of sergeant, who led a construction brigade. He had some telling recollections:

In 1951, I went to do my military service—in the labor forces. They never took any of us [Muslims] in the regular army; we all served in the labor forces. We constructed buildings, tunnels . . . I started construction training classes. I was in the army for three years and I worked in construction all that time. . . . Then one day, they brought to me 36 boys, all [ethnic] Turks. . . . One major brought them. “Sergeant,” he said [to me], “these are Turks. Five hundred years they’d oppressed us. Now, you’ve got to bleed them dry with work.” . . . That night, I introduced myself to the guys. “My name is Ramadan. Fear not. . . . [W]e’ll cope with everything together.” They looked at me in disbelief at first, but then went all at once: “Hey, brother, they’ve wasted us with work already. We’ve been cutting paving stones in a quarry day and night. By night, they made us build fires to keep working.” . . . [W]e started working on a building in Sofia. . . . It was 180 meters long and the boys worked with much enthusiasm, because they were going to become certified stonemasons. In a short time we completed the project and we were commended for it. A general from the headquarters came down to talk to us on that occasion. He said to me: “How did you make these guys work!? They had been transferred here for refusing to work on orders. . . . You know, you’ve done a miracle with them!”49

Eleventh, Pomak parents from remote villages were under obligation to send their children to larger towns or villages, where they were accommodated in special full-board schools. The objective was to separate the youngsters from their families so as to indoctrinate them in revivalist ideology along with teaching them science. “There is almost no village in the Rhodopes without a school now,” one document reads, “and almost no central settlement without a

48 Ibid., 8. 49 Ramadan Runtov, interview (Ibid.). 124 chapter 3 boarding school for the children from remote villages and hamlets. More than 5,000 pupils live in the total of 70 boarding houses. Moreover, after-school activities with free lunches are provided for more than 7,000 pupils.”50 “The Ministry of Education,” the report continues, “has issued special instructions to teachers of history, literature and Bulgarian language in these [Pomak] areas to change the curriculum according to the goals of the Cultural Revolution [i.e., the vŭzhroditelen protses].”51 Twelfth, to further the assimilation of Pomak youth already graduating from boarding schools, the communist regime instituted an affirmative-action policy for their admission to technical schools and colleges. According to the above report, the college graduates of Pomak origin in Smolyan region alone, as of (circa) 1963–1964, were 380 compared to almost none previously.52 Thirteenth, the authorities routinely organized public meetings, lectures, and conferences—with mandatory attendance for all party members, state employees, and the general Pomak population—to instruct the public “about the origins, culture, and past of the Bulgarian Mohammedans,” claimed to be “the descendants” of forcibly Islamized Bulgarians.53 With these policies in place throughout the 1960s, the vŭzhroditelen protses was well underway by the early 1970s. In a speech published in Rodopski Ustrem (a Smolyan-based newspaper) in January 1971, the secretary of the municipal party committee in Oreshets, Georgy Staykov, recaps the overnight transformation of the Pomak village of Mostovo, with a population of 1,300. “In less than a year, the Turkish-Arab names [of the Mostovo population] had been replaced with beautiful Bulgarian names. How joyous everybody was, especially the young people, [who] already knew from school what savage Turkish Islamization had taken place in the Rhodope.” In the ostentatious language of communist propaganda, Staykov proceeds to elaborate on what transpired in Mostovo during the prolonged vŭzhroditelen protses. The picture is reflective of the politics that had swept across the Rhodopes by 1974, when the assimilation of Pomaks formally ended. For over a decade prior to 1974, in Mostovo, and in most Pomak villages, the communist regime had been slowly carrying out the following revivalist strategies, designed to convince the population of their Bulgarian heritage and the need to revert back to it:

50 Report on the work among the “Bulgarian Mohammedans,” circa 1963. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 12, page 13. 51 Ibid., 15–16. 52 Ibid., 13–14. 53 Ibid., 14. Vŭzroditelen Protses 125

1. The authorities recruited scholars to research the names of local sites and the genealogy of local family names; prove their “purely Bulgarian character;” and present “a detailed report of their findings . . . before the entire village.” 2. They organized exhibits “showcasing the barbarity of the Turkish enslavers” against the Bulgarian (Christian) population. 3. There were country-fair “reenactments” of the way “barbaric Turks” burned Christian villages and kidnapped local girls to satisfy their lust. 4. Lectures containing incendiary propaganda about the “reactionary nature” of Islam were delivered on a regular basis. 5. The regime constantly evoked improving economic conditions in the traditionally impoverished Rhodopes to validate the vŭzhroditelen protses as progressive: “We have now created a local intelligentsia. There are 48 high-school and college graduates in Mostovo. Of the total of 15 school teachers, 9 are from the village [i.e., Pomaks]. Also local are the nurse and the veterinary technician. In addition, a comfortable road now connects the village with the outside world. Trucks are used to haul cargo in and out of the village, and comfortable busses—to transport people. . . . There are stores and a school in the village, as well as electricity and sewage.” 6. The leadership was always mindful of placing the vŭzhroditelen protses in the context of women’s emancipation in order to project it as a liberating rather than oppressive policy: “The women, routinely ignored in the past because of Quranic prescriptions, are now equal-rights citizens taking jobs in the administrative, agricultural, and political life [of the area]. For instance, Sofka Roynova serves as a secretary of the secondary party organization [in Mostovo]. Nina Roynova is a member of the municipal party committee, and Violeta Badeva is a secretary of the youth’s municipal committee. . . . Women are everywhere. They stand shoulder to shoulder with their husbands at party meetings, at banquets, and as initiators of things new and progressive.” 7. The regime systematically targeted religion and religious practices: “For more than eight years now,” Staykov boasts, “there has not been a hodzha [hoca] in Mostovo and people do not want one. The mosque had been provided to the local agricultural cooperative as storage facility. The religious holidays of the past—Kurban Bayram and Ramazan Bayram—are prohibited. The mevlid [ceremonial prayer accompanied by communal meal] has been abandoned, too.” 8. To break Muslim conventions completely, communist bureaucrats even forced people, though the agricultural cooperatives, to raise pigs and encouraged them to eat pork: “When, six years ago, Iliya Sandanski first 126 chapter 3

raised a pig in the village, it was a scandal. He was particularly ridiculed by the elders for eating pork. Now everybody in the village eats pork.” 9. Mandatory school attendance was strictly enforced in regard to Pomak children: “From day one of each school year, every child of school age goes to school. It is all parents’ objective now to see their offspring gradu- ate from primary and secondary school, as well as from high school and even college.” 10. Forcing women to abandon the conservative Muslim garment was common practice: “Women have discarded the ferezhe and now they all wear the modern new dress.” 11. The regime also introduced mandatory civil marriages and formal name- giving (christening) ceremonies for newborns: “The newly instituted civil marriages and name giving ceremonies of newborns are widely practiced [in Mostovo].” 12. Finally, by 1974, the complete and total renaming of the Pomak population had taken place: “Everybody, regardless of age, has new identification papers now. The population is deeply convinced of their purely Bulgarian origin.”54

Turmoil in the (Western) Rhodopes

Despite all propaganda, not everyone—the Pomaks least of all—subscribed to the communist claims of “voluntary” assimilation. In fact, Pomak communities across the Rhodopes were in turmoil, and they did not take the abuse meekly. As Ali Eminov remarks, the Pomaks offered a fierce resistance to the vŭzhroditelen protses. Unrest broke in a number of villages in the Western Rhodopes, among others, most notably in Kornitsa, Ribnovo, Lŭzhnitsa, and Breznitsa. “Scores were killed [in the Rhodopes],” Eminov sums up, “and hundreds were arrested and sentenced to long years of incarceration and hard labor.”55 Indeed, my interviewees Ramadan Ahmedov Runtov (Kurucu) and Ismail Bekirov Byalkov experienced the full blow of the vŭzhroditelen protses not only as direct participants, but also as long-term exiles and political prisoners. I met them in the summer of 2007. Ramadan and Ismail—sixteen years

54 Georgi Staykov, “Patriotichnoto vŭzpitanie—postoyanna zadacha,” Rodopski Ustrem 2, January 7, 1971. 55 Eminov, 106. Vŭzroditelen Protses 127 apart in age—were born and grew up in Kornitsa, but after years of communist persecution and suffering, they left Bulgaria in the late 1980s and early 1990s respectively to permanently settle in Turkey. Currently, they are both residents of the Istanbul suburb of Güneşli, where I interviewed them independently. Ramadan, born in 1929, became a member of the communist party while serving in the army between 1951 and 1954. As soon at the intimidation started several years later, however, he renounced his membership and became one of the most outspoken opponents of the regime. He was subsequently arrested, imprisoned, tortured while incarcerated, exiled from the Rhodopes, and finally expelled from Bulgaria in May 1989. He reminisces about what happened in the close-by Lŭzhnitsa, Kornitsa, and Breznitsa during the late 1950s, when the authorities first attempted to force the women into dresses in those villages. “It was 1957–58,” he recalls, when a group of revivalists “tried to sneak into Lŭzhnitsa, disguised as medics and, going from house to house, to presumably spray for fleas[.] They actually wanted to catch the women without ferezhes and headscarves to get them used to not having them on [women wore no ferezhes in their homes or in the presence of their Pomak neighbors]. Well, they managed to get into a house or two like that, but then some women realized what was going on. These women then came together and beat them up. After that, they [the revivalists] ran from Lŭzhnitsa and into Kornitsa.” Later the same day, the unlucky apparatchiks, having miserably failed their reconnaissance mission to Lŭzhnitsa, were already fueling the passions of their Christian audience in Kornitsa. They were telling the crowd how they had been attacked in Lŭzhnitsa, “narrowly escap[ing] with our lives.” In reaction to the alleged revolt in Lŭzhnitsa, “a posse of about 15–16 individuals” got ready to depart for the mutinous village to exact revenge. A forest guard, a mild man known to Ramadan Runtov and nicknamed Upana, joined the group, but only (as it would transpire) as a curious spectator. Because the original group of revivalists—all men—had been beaten by women, there was an element of amusement in the overall bleakness of the episode. As Ramadan reports, he jokingly asked Upana:

Ramadan: Bay Georgy, where’re you going? Upana: There’s been a mutiny in Lŭzhnitsa. Some of our folks [Christians] got beaten there. So we are going that way. Ramadan: Listen, behave yourself there. You wouldn’t want to be beaten by the women yourself, would you! Upana: Yeah, yeah! I know! 128 chapter 3

The group returned “two-three hours” later, and Upana with it. Ramadan was there, when they showed up on the public square in Kornitsa. He approached Upana and half-jokingly, half-anxiously inquired:

Ramadan: What happened [in Lŭzhnitsa], bay Georgy? Upana: You know, I didn’t get beaten. But the rest did. Ramadan: How come? Upana: Well, the women apparently knew we’re coming, so they’re waiting for us already. Before we knew it, they were all ‘round us. Somehow, though, I stayed out of trouble. Then, these women started throwing rocks at us, and everyone darted to the mosque for cover.

At this point I had to ask for clarification. “So, the women of Lŭzhnitsa beat the militsioners, right?” The communist police, that is! “Well, most in the group were civilians, but they had guns. And the police lieutenant Shopov was with them, too.” So, most of the revivalists were Christian civilians with some militsioners in the mix, armed. Ironically, to escape the barrage of rocks pelted their way, the group ran for the mosque—the closest shelter they could locate, and barricaded themselves in. Meanwhile, Upana, who had stayed out of trouble, “was watching from afar.” “They thought they would be safe in there,” Ramadan narrates but rocks, which the women kept hurling at the intruders, smashed right through the windows. When the beleaguered posse men realized they could not hide in the mosque much longer, they flung the door open and bolted out. But two of the women, according to the (now) popular story, already stood guard before the door with bludgeons. So they managed to beat the notorious police lieutenant Shopov so badly that he had to be carried back to Kornitsa on an impromptu stretcher made out of a blanket. Thus, in “1957–58” the “cultural revolution” in Lŭzhnitsa ended before it had begun. Kornitsa’s turn was yet to come. As Ramadan recalls, one day he and other local party members were told to prepare to meet a group of regional communist dignitaries in Kornitsa. The same evening, seven or eight of them arrived from Gotse Delchev, the nearby town. Meanwhile Kornitsa’s Pomak majority, fully aware of the revivalist intent of the visit, had prepared wooden boards, properly reinforced with iron nails, to resist if provoked, as in Lŭzhnitsa. To avoid escalation of potential conflict, the village men decided to stay out of sight, assuming that no one would attack defenseless women and children. The boards with spiky nails, however, were kept close at hand if the need for defense did arise. Having been forewarned of the general village mood by deliberate informers, the delegation of revivalists arrived in Kornitsa, but remained safely behind locked doors, in the mayor’s Vŭzroditelen Protses 129 office. Only after Kornitsa’s women gathered on the public square and taunted them with shouts: “Dogs! Get out! What do you want from us?” did Shopov, the lieutenant, and Nanchev, the mayor, venture out. In a spur of bravado, Shopov drew his pistol out and fired into the air to disperse the crowd, but only managed to enrage the women. When a teenage girl took her board out and began walking toward the pair, the women collectively pressed forward causing Nanchev to jump over the railing in a frantic, beeline flight homewards. Meanwhile Shopov ran back into the building. Ramadan, who had taken cover behind the stairwell of a nearby house to monitor the situation, witnessed everything as it unfolded. No one of the would-be revivalists came out again that day. It was not until three-four o’clock in the morning, when the population finally dispersed, that the revivalists could leave the village. Thus, it was quickly over in Kornitsa, too. The subsequent attempt to force Breznitsa’s women into the dress also failed. This time, a formidable female force not only prevented the militsioners from entering the village, but also wrestled the young village hodzha (hoca) out of their custody. The militsia (communist police) had arrested him earlier with the intent to use him in proselytizing women to accept the dress. The ruse not only failed to produce results, but also forged a collective women’s resistance that quickly aborted the assimilation move on Breznitsa.56 Whereas the faltering attempts to re-attire Pomak women in the late 1950s promptly crumbled having met resistance, the renewed revival pressure in the 1960s and onwards became more determined and violent. Ismal Byalkov, a young man at the time, was able to shed light on what happened in Kornitsa in 1964, and especially during the final throes of the vŭzhroditelen protses in 1973. “I was born in Kornitsa . . . in 1945,” Ismail begins. “My occupation was agricultural— crop growing, shepherding. I have no specific profession. . . . [I was 19] when in 1964, they first came to change our names. [P]eople fled to the woods. It was March. Very cold! There was nothing and no one in the woods that early in the season. Neither grass was growing, nor could any food be gathered in the forest yet. The name changing in 1964 continued for four days. Most people who had fled into the woods to avoid it couldn’t make it beyond the second or third day in the open. . . . It was raining all the time. . . . People were cold and starving. . . . If they happened on a shepherd, out with his herd, they’d take his bread and let him go. But those in the woods were so overwhelmed with hunger that many came back to their houses and had their names changed.” To everybody’s surprise, however, the renaming abruptly stopped four days after it had begun. “What we heard subsequently was that Turkey spoke on our behalf and that’s why the name changing halted,” Ismail reminisces. “Then those who

56 Ramadan Runtov, interview. (Ibid.) 130 chapter 3 had signed paperwork, agreeing to change their names, wanted it back.” The regime, however, stalled. As the population converged on the public square in Kornitsa to demand annulment of the renaming, the authorities returned the declarations, containing individual’s signatures, which “people then tore up.” “Four persons were exiled from the village as a result [of the events in 1964],” Ismail says, “Among them was my father, Bekir Bekirov Byalkov.” 57 Then came 1973, and with it, the final and most brutal stage of the vŭzhroditelen protses against the Pomaks. In Kornitsa, the population was astir once more. “[B]ecause of the extreme conditions [in 1964],” Ismail continues, “people decided not to flee to the woods again in 1973, but to gather on the public square. So on January 23, [1973], we’re all assembled on the village square.” A revivalist force of bureaucrats, troops, militsia (police), fire fighters, and armed civilians arrived in Kornitsa. The entire population, “[having] con- gregated on the public square, held tight and determined to let nobody rename us.” This tense state of affairs continued from January 23 to March 28, 1973. “We stayed there day and night, in snow and rain, small children and adults. We were building big fires to keep warm. We slept in shifts: some would go to their houses to get some sleep while the rest kept vigil. We rotated like that. It went on like that until March 28. On the morning of March 28 the village was surrounded . . .”58 To my inquiry whether or not it was the military or police who descended on the village, Ismail explains that most of the revivalists were dressed in civilian clothes. “There were no troops,” he clarifies. “At least I did not see any uniformed soldiers. There was a small horseback force and the rest were plainclothes. . . . They were all dressed in plain clothes: fire fighters . . . everyone. Now, whether they were civilians from the neighboring [Christian] villages or troops, I couldn’t tell. There were very few individuals in military uniforms, and those in uniforms were on horses. But the ones that did the beating wore plain clothes. . . . [And] there were loads of them. The whole village was blocked.” On March 28, 1973, after more than two months of nerve-racking suspense on both sides, the regime started shooting at the multitude gathered on the Kornitsa’s public square. “The whole square was smeared with blood that day,” Ismail concludes. Among the numerous wounded and severely beaten people, five lay dead. Ismail Byalkov was arrested, among many others, for having participated in the supply of firewood and for maintaining the fires on the public square during the long resistance vigil of Kortnitsa. Ismail would spend the

57 Ismail Byalkov, interview by author, Istanbul, Turkey, May 20, 2007. Also, for more on Ramadan Runtov and the vŭzhroditelen protses, see the next chapter. 58 Ibid. Vŭzroditelen Protses 131 next decade in prison, where he ran into Ramadan Runtov. The latter had been exiled from Kornitsa in the early 1960s. By the time Ismail encountered him in prison, Ramadan had been systematically starved, and in and out of solitary confinement for months.59

Economic Opportunities in the Vŭzhroditelen Protses

In spite of the bloodshed, the vŭzhroditelen protses was not implemented solely by brutality. What won many Pomaks to the communist cause was economic opportunity. The conditions of utter poverty typical of the Rhodopes in pre-communist times, as well as during the first two decades of communist government, began to slowly improve by the early 1970s. The literacy rate among the Pomak population also rose as a result of the mandatory school attendance for children. Many young people were given the opportunity— through affirmative action—to continue their education beyond primary and secondary school into high school, technical school, and college. The population as a whole experienced a general improvement of the infrastructure and living standards. The regime encouraged the building of roads, sewage and water-supply systems, as well as initiated the electrification of traditionally Pomak areas.60 A collection of data, compiled by the regime, reveals the following vŭzhroditelen protses—generated picture of the Zagrazhden Municipality in late 1971—a situation generally representative of much of the Rhodopes. An overwhelmingly Pomak municipality, 79 percent of Zagrazhden’s inhabitants were Bulgarian-speaking Muslims (Appendix 3.2.1). Of the 2,807 Pomaks, 1,099 were already “revived” as of October 1971 largely by having their traditional names replaced with Bulgarian ones (Appendix 3.2.2A). Through the years 1969–1971, 127 infants were born to Pomak parents and more than 60 percent of them (80 newborns) were registered with Bulgarian names (Appendix 3.2.2B). Ninety-three Pomaks were forcibly removed from the municipality and resettled elsewhere in the country—usually in central or northern Bulgaria, among Christians (Appendix 3.2.3). The most common reason for exiling people from the Rhodopes during communism was their staunch opposition to the vŭzhroditelen protses. As a rule, the regime relocated those perceived as “troublemakers,” because they refused to change their names and/or

59 Ibid. Also, for a detailed account of Ramadan’s life and anti-revivalism, see chapter four. 60 See section From Pokrŭstvane to Vŭzhroditelen Protses in this chapter. 132 chapter 3 influenced others to resist.61 While the data reveals that the Pomaks remained overwhelmingly agrarian, their children were being prepared for other occupa- tional opportunities as well, including in the education and health-care sectors (Appendix 3.2.4). Further statistics report that from none to negligibly small, the average number of Pomak students graduating from secondary school, high school, technical school, college, and university respectively rose to 82.6 percent during the academic years of 1969–1970, 1970–1971, and 1971–1972. The largest share of those completed secondary- and technical-school education (Appendix 3.2.5). However, the majority of Pomak students—especially those—enrolled in technical school and college were able to do so because of affirmative action. Surviving documents highlight that the affirmative action policy was designed with the view to accelerate the vŭzhroditelen protses and possibly encourage revivalists from within the Pomak community. The so-created “local intelligentsia” was henceforth expected to take part in all revivalist activities, including destroying old tombstones and minarets, interfering with traditional burial rites and holidays, ripping ferezhes and shalvars, changing names, and sacking incompliant employees from work. Nevertheless, along with frustration, the vŭzhroditelen protses brought about relative economic prosperity as well. To that effect, further statistics illustrate that, by the early 1970s, a growing number of Pomak households in the Zagrazhden Municipality (and elsewhere in the Rhodopes) began purchasing items previously inaccessible such as television and radio sets, refrigerators, cassette players, electrical and gas stoves, motorcycles, mopeds, cars, furniture, and new homes (Appendix 3.2.6). As Mehmed Myuhtar, among others, attests, the village of Vŭlkossel and most of the Western Rhodopes were electrified in 1964, chiefly by conscripted local labor. Thus, it was the village population who mixed concrete and poured in into molds to make electric poles, dug holes to plant those in the ground, and pulled electric wires for most of 1961, 1962, and 1963. With electric outlets in place, the Myuhtar family was able to purchase their first television set in 1970, and they were only the third household in Vŭlkossel to do so. Further, most of the existing dirt or gravel roads were asphalt-coated between 1967 and 1976, when the major traffic arteries connecting the villages Ablanitsa, Vŭlkossel, Slashten, and Satovcha were completed. Thereafter, regular public bus transportation developed, linking the villages with each other, with the nearest town Gotse Delchev, and from there—with the rest of the country. (At the same time, the inner streets of most Pomak villages in the Western Rhodopes remain unpaved to this day, including in Vŭlkossel.) A public bakery

61 Ramadan Runtov, interview; Ismail Byalkov, interview. (Ibid.) Vŭzroditelen Protses 133 in Vŭlkossel also opened in 1966, when several local persons completed voca- tional training as bakers.62 Thus, economic opportunity and assimilation in the Rhodopes went hand in hand. By mid-1972, more than fifty percent of the Muslims in the entire Smolyan Region had received Bulgarian names with Christian significance, and carried new identification papers (Appendix 3.2.7). Although the vŭzhroditelen protses was—by and large—forced on the Pomaks, many voluntarily adopted the new names and attire. Especially enthusiastic were some women, whose situation was particularly difficult due to the strongly patriarchal culture in the Rhodopes. A letter of complaint by a Pomak woman to the local authorities in this respect is noteworthy. The letter reveals intimidation of a different kind: one exerted by Pomaks against other Pomaks, particularly of women against women, largely to dissuade them from accepting Bulgarian names by way of mockery and rejection. However, the letter also points to the type of reaction the communist regime encouraged—indeed, actively pursued, particularly among women—to validate the vŭzhroditelen protses as voluntary. Thus, “evidence” like the example below would have been carefully copied and broadly distributed for propaganda purposes. The preserved archival copy is a typewritten replica of an original handwritten letter, which could have been fabricated. With no direct evidence to that effect, however, I will treat it as authentic:

May 1972

Dear Comrade Chairman of the R[egional Party] Committee—Smolyan, I have a request and I hope that you could help me. We already restored our Bulgarian names and, having thrown our Arab [Muslim] names, we [women] are happy. But there is something else: Do we need to wear the headscarves[?] I am a young woman and I do not want to wear the headscarf, but we have many gossipers here. Let me tell you about this case: I went on vacation at the Narechen spa resort and, while there, I did not wear the headscarf[.] [B]ut when other women from my village saw me like that, they told my husband about it. Because he [my husband] is religious, they [these women] caused such problems for me that I wanted to commit a suicide. So my opinion [i.e., question] to you, comrade chairman is this[:] Are we building communism here [in this country] or fascism[?]

62 Mehmed Myuhtar, telephone-interview by author, January 12, 2010. 134 chapter 3

I want a reply to this question[:] [A]re these headscarves going to be removed from our heads so that I could enjoy my life? Because, when they [other women] say that rejecting the headscarf is sinful, I get mad and I have problems afterwards. If you could make my family life scarf-free, the treat will be on me. There is more: The women in our villages wear shalvars or pants to cover their legs since they believe that it is sinful to expose them[.] So they laugh at me and say: “Where do you think you’ll go with these bare legs when you die?” I tell them: “You mind your own business!” That’s my opinion [i.e., complaint] to you and I ask you to consider it.

My address is: V[illage of] Treve, Smolyan Region—Svetla Silkova Surova I’m looking forward to your reply.63

If the letter is authentic, it posits an interesting scenario. The woman who authored it must have been unusually courageous or foolhardy to challenge a staunchly patriarchal society that way. Because she speaks of herself in the first person singular, one ought to assume that she was the sole female rebel in the village, facing not only a conservative husband and society, but also fellow women who openly ridiculed her. Because it is difficult to imagine that any woman would willingly place herself in a position of isolation, vulnerability, and mockery within her community, it is possible that the letter may be a fake. According to evidence furnished by Ramadan Runtov, there were regularly scheduled propaganda conferences organized for Pomaks after 1956, when the regime first moved to re-attire Pomak women. During these conferences veiled women—supposedly Pomak—would come forward, before the audience, and theatrically discard the veil, declaring: “I desire this black veil no more.” As she would throw down the headscarf, other women would help her put a dress on, thus, symbolically delivering her from “the black veil,” i.e., from male oppression. Among the largely Pomak audience, however, who were forced to attend these events, there was a great deal of suppressed snickering and doubt as to the true identity of these women. It is very likely, as Ramadan suggests, that some were paid actresses, Christian women posing as Muslim ones, or even female relations of previously converted and/or voluntarily revived Pomaks. These events, however, based on Ramadan’s information, were frequently organized, followed the same basic format, and smacked of forgery.64

63 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1Б, Inventory 38, Archival Unit 6, page 125. 64 Ramadan Runtov, interview. (Ibid.) Vŭzroditelen Protses 135

Reluctantly or not, the vŭzhroditelen protses against the Rhodopean Muslims formally concluded in 1974. Nevertheless, a number of Pomaks managed to evade renaming even after that date. Indeed, in March 1977, a government report estimated that 6,718 individuals had remained un-revived (Appendix 3.2.8).65 The majority of those escaped the vŭzhroditelen protses by taking refuge in areas with significant Turkish-speaking population and feigning “Turkish” identity. This subterfuge worked because Bulgaria, still apprehensive about an international incident with Turkey, excluded the Turkish minority from forced assimilation during the 1970s. No matter how successful the renaming, as soon as the communist regime eased up the pressure on the Pomak community, the majority resumed the practice of their religious traditions and the use of their Turkish-Arab appel- lations, albeit privately.66 Much of the Muslim unwillingness to submit to the new identity stemmed from the abusive and debasing nature of the assimilation. The Pomak population, which had overwhelmingly supported the regime’s initial ascent to power, felt betrayed, beaten down, and humiliated

65 Assessment on the Implementation of the Decision of the Secretariat of the Bulgarian Communist Party’s Central Committee from July 17, 1970, Concerning the Pomak Vŭzhroditelen Protses. The document is dated May 8, 1978, and numbered 005805, pages 60–80. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia. (There is no archival reference on the document). 66 A government assessment of the implementation of the Pomak vŭzhroditelen protses reads: “. . . After the mass revival of their names, the individual work with the [Pomak] people started slacking[.] [A]s a result, in some regions there are still hundreds of Bulgarians [Pomaks] bearing Turkish-Arab names and there is a general tendency of reverting back to old-fashion Turkish style of dressing [among the Pomaks]. . . . A considerable part of the descendants [of Islamized Bulgarians] accepted the new, Bulgarian names only nominally. They continue to use their Turkish-Arab names among themselves and in the privacy of their homes. Although, all newborns are registered with Bulgarian names, in many parts of the country the parents privately give them Turkish- Arab names and use those at home. Most of the children in the towns and villages of the Kardzhali, Blagoevgrad, and Pazardzhik Regions unofficially bear [Turkish-]Arab names. Some reactionary elements are instilling the belief in people that their [Muslim] names will be restored soon since the same had happened many times before. . . . In many [Pomak] areas, the women and girls still wear shalvars, yashmaks [cover garment] and ferezhes. Despite the prohibition, many boys are still being circumcised . . . [emphasis added].” (Assessment on the Implementation of the Decision of the Secretariat of the Bulgarian Communist Party’s Central Committee from July 17, 1970, Concerning the Pomak Vŭzhroditelen Protses. The document is dated from May 8, 1978, and numbered 005805, pages 60–80. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, pages 71–73. 136 chapter 3 by the vŭzhroditelen protses yet again. Just as the earlier pokrŭstvane, the vŭzhroditelen protses was committed in the name of nationalism. It was pur- posed to perpetuate the communist control over a unitary nation-state without regard to the dignity of the Muslim communities. While working towards its goal, the regime skillfully manipulated the national majority’s sentiment by synonymizing the vŭzhroditelen protses with advancing the national interest.

Conclusion

1 External Pressure, Internal Turmoil, and the “Big Excursion” With the national sentiment firmly swayed in favor of the assimilation, the communist regime revived all Muslims in Bulgaria by the beginning of 1987. Whereas the final Pomak revival of 1972–1974 remained largely unnoticed by the international community, the campaign against the ethnic Turks of 1984–1985 created an international uproar due—in greatest part—to Turkey’s forceful protests. Nervous and apprehensive about a broader international condemnation, the communist regime in Bulgaria closely monitored every move of the Turkish government. Between June 27 and July 3, 1987, alone, the regime registered a number of developments in Turkey regarding the vŭzhroditelen protses. An intelligence report observes the following, among other things: • The radio station, The Voice of Turkey, was steadily transmitting news about the vŭzhroditelen protses. • The Voice of Turkey spoke directly to the Muslims of Bulgaria, because of which, measures were put in place “to jam the transmissions of The Voice of Turkey.” • At a protest rally in Istanbul on June 27, 1987, the united organization of the Bulgarian immigrants in Turkey voiced the opinion that the Turkish government should pressure Bulgaria into signing an agreement allowing the Muslims of Bulgaria to leave the country. In response, the communist regime vowed to “[c]ontinue the smear campaign against the leaders of the anti-Bulgarian-movement in Turkey in order to inflict discord in it.”67 • On 21–24 June 1987, the Istanbul Lawyers Association held a symposium about “the politics of repression against and assimilation of the Turkish ethnic minority [in Bulgaria].” • The production of a new anti-Bulgarian documentary was being planned in Turkey, titled “Belene—The Death Camp.” The regime cautioned in

67 Ibid., 2. Vŭzroditelen Protses 137

this regard: “It is possible that this and other such films would attempt to be smuggled into our country on videotapes to keep high the hopes for migration to ‘the mother-country, Turkey’ of the Bulgarian citizens with revived names.” • Turkey’s President Kenan Evren met with Jordan’s King Hussein, during the latter’s official visit to the country, where Kenan expressed concern over the vŭzhroditelen protses in Bulgaria. According to the information, Kenan said: “Our nation will be grateful if the Islamic countries use their influence with Bulgaria to help us on the matter.” King Hussein replied: “We believe that a just solution will be found regarding the human rights and cultural identity of the Muslim minority in Bulgaria. We will attempt to persuade Bulgaria to respond positively to such just demands.”68

Spearheaded by Turkey, international indignation at the treatment of Muslims in Bulgaria steadily grew after 1985. The Pomaks and Turks, for their part, reacted with massive demonstrations against the regime and its revivalist policies by early 1989. What became known as The May Events of 1989 resulted in the expulsion of “scores of native Turkish [and Pomak] intellectuals, leaders and potential leaders” of the anti-revivalist movement,69 and Ramadan Runtov was among them.70 As foreign pressure on Bulgaria mounted, the Chairperson of the State Council of the People’s Republic of Bulgaria, Todor Zhivkov, delivered a dramatic speech on May 28, 1989. It was broadcasted on all electronic media in Bulgaria and disseminated through the printed press. In this speech, Zhivkov called on Turkey to open its borders for all those who “wished” to leave Bulgaria temporarily or on a permanent basis. As Eminov describes it, “[a] week after the start of [the] demonstrations, the government announced on national television that those Bulgarians who . . . wished to visit Turkey would be issued passports on demand. The response to this announcement was unanticipated and overwhelming. The passport offices were besieged by hundreds of thousands of Turks [and Pomaks] immediately after the announcement. Passports were issued rapidly and the Turks [but not the Pomaks] were told to put their affairs in order quickly and leave . . .” Thus, the epic expulsion of Muslims by the communist government of Bulgaria began. To save face, the regime

68 Information about Turkey’s Activities against the Vŭzhroditelen Protses for the Period 27 June–3 July 1987. The document is dated from July 3, 1987, and signed by then Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs, Gen. Lieutenant St. Savov, pages 1–6. (There is no archival reference on the document). 69 Eminov, 97. 70 Read about Ramadan Runtov in the next chapter. 138 chapter 3 deliberately called it the “Big Excursion.” Hundreds of thousands of Muslims left Bulgaria during this forced “excursion,” most of them never to return.71 When Zhivkov promised to let all Muslims go, “hundreds of Pomaks” from the Rhodopes filed applications for passports to immigrate as well. As Eminov accurately points out, whereas Bulgaria’s Turks received “passports by the tens of thousands,” Pomak applications were denied. “Local party officials explained that Z[h]ivkov’s announcement did not cover the Muslims living in the Sofia and Plovdiv provinces [i.e., Pomaks] because they were ‘another category of people’, presumably meaning Bulgarians.” Accordingly, regional bureaucrats in charge of issuing immigration papers “categorically stated that they would not allow anyone to immigrate to Turkey and threatened anyone who persisted in their demands with arrest, imprisonment, and even death.”72 According to official statistics, as of July 6, 1989, in excess of 370,000 Pomaks submitted applications for passports to leave the country (Appendix 3.1A). Of those, only about 125,000 were issued the necessary documents to travel abroad (Appendix 3.1B). They were mostly political undesirables like Ramadan Runtov. Despite the difficulties, however, an estimated 111,336 Pomaks had already left the country as of July 6, 1989 (Appendix 3.1C).

2 The End Is Near or Is It? By late 1989, the political and economic situation in Bulgaria was so unstable that the regime finally awakened to reality. As the Soviet Union’s leader Mikhail Gorbachev spoke of communist perestroika (reformation), the peoples of Eastern Europe marched for democracy. Consequently, the communist regimes throughout the Eastern European bloc diminished politically. Reacting to this pervasive agitation, the Bulgarian Muslims rallied for freedom and demanded reversal of the vŭzhroditelen protses. Although nervous, the communist “Caesars” of Bulgaria remained arrogant and remorseless. Believing the status quo to be retainable, they hatched a plan to expel all ethnic Turks from the country, thus, resolving “the national problem” once and for all. In a matter

71 Eminov, 97. “Between June and August,” Eminov continues, “when Turkey closed its borders with Bulgaria to emigrants without proper visas, over 350,000 Turks [and Pomaks] left the country. The mass exodus of Turks [and Pomaks] from Bulgaria over such short period of time caused severe economic and social dislocations in the country which contributed to the downfall of the Z[h]ivkov regime on 10 November 1989. Eventually, especially after the ouster of Z[h]ivkov from power, over 150,000 Turks [and Pomaks] returned to Bulgaria, but more than 200,000 chose to remain in Turkey permanently.” (Eminov, 97.) 72 Eminov referencing Ashley, 106–107. Vŭzroditelen Protses 139 of months in 1989, more than 350,000 Muslims—overwhelmingly Turks but many Pomaks as well—were deported from Bulgaria. This was the single largest mass exodus of refugees in Europe since the Second World War.73 Because the Muslims were the major workforce of the country’s agrarian sector and because they were driven out in the middle of the summer, Bulgaria experienced a severe labor shortage for the fall harvest of 1989. The national agricultural economy accordingly collapsed. In a desperate move to survive, on November 10, 1989, the regime ousted from power the main “Caesar” Todor Zhivkov, and blamed the total political and economic disaster on him. Meanwhile, the communist party renamed itself to the Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP) and continued to rule the country. However, it was already making amends with the Muslims by revising the disastrous vŭzhroditelen protses. On December 29, 1989, the “reformed” regime reversed the vŭzhroditelen protses and proclaimed it an anomaly of the Zhivkov era. In June 1990, during the first multi-party elections in decades, Bulgaria elected the first democratic Parliament, which undertook to abolish the assimilation policy and ensure a democratic rule of government. Accordingly, on May 6, 1990, the Parliament passed the Law on the Names of the Bulgarian Citizens, which denounced the vŭzhroditelen protses and condemned the violation of the basic constitutional guarantee for equality before the law of all citizens (Article 35 of the 1971 Constitution). Article 17 of the law stipulated: “Threat, coercion, violence, fraud, abuse of power or other illicit actions in choosing, keeping, changing or restoring a name is punished under the Penal Code.” It also ensured that all “Bulgarian citizens whose names have been forcibly changed may, of their own free will, restore their former names.”74 Within two years, most Pomak and Turkish Muslims were able to regain their conventional names of Turkish-Arab origin. Further, the democratic Constitution of 1991 incorporated provisions to the same effect. Article 13(1), for example, stipulated that “The practicing of any religion shall be free.” Article 37 provided for freedom of conscience, thought, and religion, as well as charged the state with ensuring tolerance and respect for the religious beliefs of others.75 Simultaneously, however, Article 13(3) established the Eastern Orthodox Christianity as “the traditional religion of the Republic of Bulgaria.”76 This renewed identification of the political regime with the Orthodox Church, and hence with the Christian values of the

73 Eminov, 97. 74 Ibid., 20. 75 Ibid., 62. 76 Ibid., 65. 140 chapter 3 dominant ethno-religious majority, aroused fresh fears among the understandably distrustful Muslims. The Pomaks were especially concerned about being able to hold on to their newly acquired freedom of self-expression given the history of forced assimilation.77 The Pomak apprehension about displaying “Muslim” (i.e., “un-Bulgarian”) identity has largely proven justified since the initial freedom surge following the collapse of the communist regime. Taking advantage of the dire economic straits of the Rhodopes in the early 1990s, as Eminov points out, “Orthodox priests have been extremely active among the Bulgarian-speaking Muslims since 1989 and their success in converting [them] to Christianity is widely reported in the mass media.” In addition, “representatives of mainstream Protestant denominations, Evangelicals, Catholics, Mormons, Church of Scientology and various cults are competing with one another to ‘save’ Muslim souls.” At the same time, however, “Muslim missionary activity among the Orthodox population is . . . unthinkable.”78 Eminov registered the ongoing conversion activities among the Pomaks prior to 1997, when he published his book Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities. Since then Bulgaria has joined NATO (2004) and the European Union (2007). Regardless of these most stimulating developments, however, the Pomak cultural expression remains restricted. Moreover, the post 9/11 reality, inflaming anti-Muslim sentiments worldwide, has frighteningly normalized the negative and even hostile attitudes toward the Muslims in Bulgaria. Especially galling to the prevalent national sentiment has become the Pomak claim to Muslimness. Now, as in the past, the Pomaks—as “Bulgarian-Mohamedans”— have to strictly follow prescribed norms of cultural behavior, i.e., act Bulgarian by maintaining adherence to dominant ideas of nationalism. Thus, the post- totalitarian status quo has been painfully reminiscent of the vŭzhroditelen protses for many Pomaks who remember it.79 In the course of over thirty years of democratic government in Bulgaria, the appeal of jingoist nationalism is growing rather than subduing. The harsh economic reality further enables the openly biased media to fan the flames of a tangibly hostile national sentiment. As in 1997, when Ali Eminov described it, much of the news production in Bulgaria remains in the hands of journalists who “often manufacture evidence, expand rumors into major stories, or create rumors themselves” in service to various cultural-political interests. These

77 Ibid. 78 Ibid. 79 Ramadan Runtov, interview; Ismail Byalkov, interview; Mehmed Shehov, interview; Mehmed Myuhtar, interview; and others. Vŭzroditelen Protses 141

“stories” are then “given wide play in both print and broadcast media.” When these journalists get pressed for “concrete evidence” to back up their allegations, they usually furnish none.80 Referencing Bulgarian scholarship, Eminov quotes actual news headlines, the likes of which still appear in the Bulgarian press (and other media):

“The sinister wave of Turkish separatism is swelling”; “The declaration of a Turkish Republic in the Rhodopes is in preparation”; “Turks want to redraw the ethnic map of Bulgaria” “Turkey is secretly training Janissaries* for the Bulgarian army”; “Bulgarian Muslims are subjected to forced Turkization”; “Islamic fundamentalists are crisscrossing Bulgaria”; “Emissaries from the Middle East are scuttling through the Rhodopes.”

* The Ottoman policy of recruiting Christian youth into the military by converting them to Islam is popularly labeled “blood tax” in Bulgarian folklore to suggest forced removal of these boys from their families. Scholars, on the other hand, agree that Christian families volunteered their boys into the army, because the Ottoman system otherwise prohibited non-Muslims (mostly Christians and Jews) from serving in the military.81

Several themes, smacking of populist nationalism, immediately manifest themselves in this roster. First, Turkey—as the Ottoman Empire’s heir— remains the “enemy” that is always scheming to reoccupy its former territories, including Bulgaria, and “reenslave” the Christian population. Second, in preparation for reclaiming its empire, Turkey (as well as the Arab Middle East) is “secretly training Janissaries” and sending in “Islamic fundamentalists” to Turkicize/Islamize the population. Third, these Islamic “emissaries . . . are scuttling through the Rhodopes” to pervert the consciousness of the Pomaks and to alienate them from the Bulgarian nation. Fourth, sinister Islamic forces are plotting to “redraw the ethnic map of Bulgaria” to the destruction of “our” nation-state. Taking a “conspiratorial approach” to expressions of Muslim identity, some journalists diligently “keep track of the number of new mosques built and under construction,” and quite seriously claim that those are used “to hatch diabolical plots to destroy the Bulgarian state and nation.” Most

80 Eminov, 21. 81 See chapter two for details. 142 chapter 3 worrisome of all, however, is the lack of political will to hold “people who spread unfounded and incendiary propaganda accountable.”82

3 Implications for Pomak Heritage This conspiratorial frenzy in the public space is inevitably coloring the prevalent national sentiment. On the flip side, it may also be that the press and media simply pick up on some anger in the popular mood and respond accordingly. Indeed, the disappointing economic and political developments in recent years have not been conducive to a positive national sentiment. Already disillusioned by several governments and hardened by economic instability, in July 2009, Bulgaria’s majority voted the openly nationalist GERB party to power. The political prowess of GERB is singularly vested in the personal charisma of its leader, Boyko Borissov, who has openly expressed strong nationalistic views. Along with serving as Prime Minister of Bulgaria, elected for a second term in 2011 (widespread economic agitation in the country forced him to resign in the spring of 2013), Borissov was also a former bodyguard of the long-term communist leader Todor Zhivkov. According to his own admission, Borissov took part in the Turkish vŭzhroditelen protses of 1984–1985 as “lieutenant” of a fire- fighting “battalion.” “As fire-fighters,” he explained in an interview, “we were sent there [to the areas with Turkish population] to protect the cereal crops, so that they [the Turks] don’t set them on fire.”83 Protecting the crops from insurgents, however, was the least of “The Party’s” concerns. In fact, it is now common knowledge that the communist regime threw all available forces— police, troops, fire brigades, and salaried functioneérs—against a civilian population to intimidate and force it into revivalist submission, including by a way of beating and murder.84 In a highly controversial statement of October 31, 2008, the then future Prime Minister Borissov quite seriously explained that while he approved of the objectives of the vŭzhroditelen protses, he disagreed with the methods of its implementation. In response to a reporter’s comment that imposing names on people was perverted, Borissov retorted: “It must be understood once and for all that the citizens of Bulgaria are Bulgarians, of Turkey—Turks, of Serbia—Serbs[.] [T]hat’s why, there are states and there are borders. If one is Bulgarian, one needs to feel that way[.] [I]f one feels Turk, let

82 Eminov, 21–22. 83 “Boyko Borrisov odobryava tselite na vŭzroditelniya protses,” Mediapool, October 31, 2008. Available at www.mediapool.bg/show/?storyid=145332. Accessed October 31, 2008. 84 Eminov, passim. See also, Vera Grozeva, Kŭrvyashta Nostralgia (Zhar-Zhanet Argirova, 2000), passim; Salih Bozov, V imeto na imeto (Sofia, Bulgaria: Fondatsia Liberalna Integratsia, 2005), passim. Vŭzroditelen Protses 143 him go to Turkey. . . . In Bulgaria, there are Bulgarian citizens, and that is to be the guiding principle for every [national] cause.”85 Thus, the authorities in Bulgaria effectively reduce the essence of nationalism to narod, meaning that nation and people are one and the same thing. This constraining equalization of the nation-state with the sentiments of the dominant ethno-cultural majority promotes exclusion rather than integration of vernacular heritages into the public narrative. As a result, most efforts to tell the Pomak version of history as dissent and oppression in the official domain are consistently met with hostility and censorship. Yet, as painful as they may be, narratives of violence and suffering like the pokrŭstvane and the vŭzhroditelen protses should be remembered not to create antagonism, but to foster acceptance and reconciliation. Only by facing the past can a people move forward as a nation, and only by recognizing historical wrongs can a nation hold those in charge of government accountable to the benefit of all in society. In its essence, the vŭzhroditelen protses was the doing of the ruling communist minority against a whole segment of Bulgaria’s population with historically Turkish-Arab names. These privileged few, however, victimized society at large during the nearly five decades of totalitarian rule (1944–1989), irrespective of ethnicity, religion, or language. In that sense, the vŭzhroditelen protses was a crime not against Muslims alone, but against all those who valued dignity and free conscience in the nation. Potentially, people’s realization of their shared vulnerability to a government without check would engender acceptance and lay the foundations for common heritage in the Rhodopes, among other places. Thus, amid the many reasons I explore the life story of Ramadan Runtov in the next chapter is that of his potent forgiveness and positive outlook regardless of the trauma he sustained while a political prisoner and exile as a result of the vŭzhroditelen protses.

85 Mediapool, (ibid.). CHAPTER 4 A Pomak Life of Dissent Amidst Cultural Oppression in Communist Bulgaria

Meeting Ramadan

I met Ramadan in May 2007 while in Turkey conducting research that focuses on the Pomaks of Bulgaria. Even though I knew that Pomak exiles lived in Turkey, I did not expect to meet so many of them in Istanbul. My guide in the city was Fikrie, a Pomak student at one of the local universities, who also came from my home town of Vŭlkossel in southwest Bulgaria. Because of Fikrie’s status as a student, I largely anticipated to be speaking with other students about the way they coped with life in a foreign country. When I turned up in Istanbul, however, life unraveled for me in fulfilling twists and turns. One of those was Fikrie’s connection to the village of Kornitsa (her mother is from there), near Vŭlkossel, where my informant Ramadan was born. Because of the forced assimilation of the Muslims during the communist period, many Pomaks were either expelled from Bulgaria for opposing the vŭzhroditelen protses or voluntarily left the country once the regime collapsed in 1989. Their primary destination was Turkey, a predominantly Muslim country. As a result, many Pomaks live throughout Western Turkey today, notably in Istanbul and along the Western coast of Asia Minor. Indeed, I discovered a whole Pomak community in Istanbul, all coming from the Rhodope Mountains of southwest Bulgaria, the Pomak stronghold in the country. Numbering at least in the hundreds, many live within city blocks from each other in the suburb of Güneşli in Istanbul. Ramadan was the then seventy-seven-year-old patriarch of the Runtov’s clan comprised of his wife, three sons and their son’s families, dwelling within walking distance of one another. When Fikrie introduced me to her relatives from Bulgaria, they sat down with me to collectively discuss who the best interviewees to approach would be. From the lone nerve- racking venture I had expected, my research project was becoming a communal enterprise. Everybody agreed that I should be introduced to Ramadan Runtov. The next day, my hostess for the day, Ava, and I headed toward his home. After a short meandering walk, we rang the doorbell of a house to be admitted by an elderly, tall, and somewhat stern-looking man: Ramadan Runtov himself. Being invited in, we sat on sofas covered with familiar woolen

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��4 | doi 10.1163/9789004272088_005 A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 145 bedspread, likely handcrafted by Ramadan’s own wife and brought over from the ancestral home in Bulgaria. With the mandatory black Turkish coffee before us, Ramadan and I settled down for a quiet interview.

Ramadan’s Vŭzhroditelen-Protses Ordeal

Figure 4-1 Ramadan Runtov Ramadan Runtov, also known as Ramadan Kurucu, is holding a book that had recently publicized many painful vŭzhroditelen-protses memories, including Ramadan’s own. Istanbul, Turkey, 21 May 2007.

I was slightly apprehensive about how to begin the conversation, because I did not want to appear intrusive or otherwise unprepared. Starting with an explanation that I was conducting a research on the Pomak community, I said to my host: “I heard that you went through a lot during the vŭzhroditelen protses. Would you care to answer a few questions while I record?” “Go right ahead!” instantly came the cordial answer. “Ask! Record! Whatever you want! It’s alright with me. I want this to be known; young people should know their 146 chapter 4 heritage.”1 From this point on, Ramadan embarked on a narrative that recounted the struggles of his life. I did not have to say much until the very end, three hours later. When he finished, the coffee was cold in my cup, and I was sitting there pondering the richness and anguish of one man’s life. He stood before me quietly smiling and apparently untroubled by bitterness or resentment. Policies of forced Pomak assimilation have been an evolutionary process, pursued by different Bulgarian regimes during various time periods, and repeatedly aborted or resumed depending on political circumstances. The first comprehensive Christianization—better known as pokrŭstvane—happened in 1912–1913. In the midst of an ongoing war,2 thousands of Pomaks were forced to formally renounce their Islamic faith and to convert to Orthodox Christianity. The affair was short-lived, however, and abruptly ended when Pomak protests drew the attention of the international community. Subsequent Bulgarian governments, in conjunction with the Orthodox Church, made similar moves against the Pomaks in the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s by means of both violence and persuasion.3 The Nazi-allied monarchic regime of Bulgaria launched its successive attempt to convert the Pomaks in the period 1938–1944. In the eve of World War II, Ramadan Runtov was a young boy who experienced the excesses of the last pre-communist conversion of the Pomak population. “I was eight-year old in 1938, when the harassment began again,” he reminisces.

They forbade us to wear fez [the traditional Ottoman male headdress in those days]. I attended school back then and I would go to school with a fez . . . And there was this man, Boriss Baldevski, from the [Bulgarian] gendarmerie. On two occasions he took my fez and cut it to pieces with his knife. Then, in the freezing cold, I would wrap a scarf around my head

1 Ramadan Runtov, interview by author, Istanbul, Turkey, May 21, 2007. Note: Unless otherwise indicated, all the quotes are from the interview with Ramadan Runtov. 2 The Balkan Wars were initially fought by Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, and Montenegro against their former occupier Ottoman Turkey, and subsequently by Greece, Serbia, and Montenegro against Bulgaria, which had taken most of the Ottoman territories the formerly allied foursome sought to acquire (see chapter two). 3 For more information, see chapter two. Also, read the compilation of original documents on the Christianization of 1912–1913 published under the editorship of Velichko Georgiev and Stayko Trifonov, eds. Pokrŭstvaneto na Bulgarite Mohamedani 1912–1913 (Sofia, Bulgaria: Prof. Marin Drinov Publ., 1995). (In Bulgarian). A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 147

to be able to go to school. But they would grab my scarf, too, and tramp it in the mud.

In 1944, in the heat of the war, the Soviet army occupied Bulgaria and installed in power a relatively small group of Marxist and Leninist adherents, who subsequently formed the puppet communist government of Bulgaria. Fierce persecution of opposition activists and supporters of the previous dynastic regime began immediately. Thousands of inconvenient persons and organizations were labeled “fascist” and put to their death by a specially created extra- judicial body dubbed “the People’s Court of Justice.” The political witch-hunt was a matter of survival for the fledgling communist government as it grappled to establish control of the country.4 As Bulgaria had a sizeable Muslim population, the new regime embarked on gaining their support. It won the Pomaks simply by aborting the conversion and reinstating their traditional names. By the mid-1950s, the communists had stabilized their grip on power and could comfortably consider reversing their policy toward the Pomak minority. The emerging communist nationalism saw the large number of Muslims in the country, comprising about one-fifth of roughly seven million people, as a challenge to their ambition to build a culturally uniform nation. Thereafter, the pressure began on Pomak men and women to rid themselves of the traditional attire in favor of more modern clothing, to substitute their traditional Turkish- Arab names with Bulgarian-Orthodox ones, and to abandon any and all religious practices.5 Especially affected by the assimilation politics were young Pomak army conscripts.6 From 1951 to 1953, young Ramadan Runtov was serving his mandatory military service. In Bulgaria, all Muslim youths were assigned to labor units, with limited access to weapons and military training in the army. Instead, they did construction, mining, and other strenuous and hazardous activities.7 Nevertheless, it was a time of optimism for Ramadan who believed that better days were ahead after having witnessed the pre-communist conversion. When

4 Georgi Markov, Zadochni Reportazhi ot Bŭlgaria (Sofia, Bulgaria: Profizdat, 1990). 5 Ali Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria (New York: Routledge, 1997), 99–111; Ali Eminov, “Social Construction of Identities: Pomaks in Bulgaria,” JEMIE 6 (2007): 2. 6 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventories 39–40, Archival Units, passim; Ramadan Runtov, interview. 7 Report of Prof. Georgi Gŭlŭbov, chairing the committee in charge of implementing the vŭzhroditelen protses to the “Propaganda and Persuasion” department of the central committee of the communist party, circa 1963. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventory 40, Archival Unit 12, page 4. 148 chapter 4 he was offered the rare chance to advance as a construction supervisor in the army, he seized the opportunity. The communist regime, on the other hand, needed young enthusiasts like Ramadan to win over the disillusioned Pomak population. In 1953, Ramadan officially became a member of the communist party. While in the army, however, he also received his first taste of what was coming. One day, a group of ethnic Turkish soldiers were brought to his army unit. “One major brought the boys,” Ramadan said, “but he never knew I was a Muslim myself.”

“Sergeant,” he said, “these are Turks. Five hundred years they oppressed us. Now, you’ve got to bleed them dry with work.” . . . That night, I introduced myself to the guys. “My name is Ramadan. Fear not. From now on we’ll cope with everything together.” They looked at me in disbelief at first, but then went all at once: “Hey, brother, they’ve wasted us with work already. We’ve been cutting paving stones in a quarry day and night. By night, they would make us build fires to keep working.”8

By 1958, the communist harassment of Pomaks in the Rhodopes commenced. Thereafter, Ramadan’s ordeal as a junior party member began, too. The first order of business for the regime was to force Pomak women to adopt a more revealing dress style instead of the conservative broad trousers and headscarves. Pomak communists like Ramadan had to give a personal example by obligating their wives first to wear dresses or skirt-and-shirt combinations. As most people defined their identity in terms of religion, however, they resisted participation in the revival affairs. Ramadan not only refused to serve as an example, but also dissuaded others from succumbing to pressure. In the early 1960s, the vŭzhroditelen protses took a nasty turn. Coercion was especially disturbing in the three nearby villages of the Western Rhodopes—Kornitsa, Breznitsa, and Lŭzhnitsa.9

Trouble in Kornitsa

Communist bureaucrats, assisted by police, called militsia, and civilian volun- teers, routinely harassed Pomak villages in the Rhodopes. Because these early

8 Ramadan Runtov, interview. 9 Ibid. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventories 39–40, Archival Units, passim. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 149 revival efforts targeted first and foremost women,10 it was also women who offered the first open resistance. One day, a group of communist apparatchiks, escorted by militsia, arrived in Kornitsa (Ramadan’s village). Hoping to prevent bloodshed, Ramadan advised the village men to take cover in attics and cellars while the women and children stayed out. The women armed themselves with wooden boards with sharp nails spiking out. These were to serve as the first line of defense before the men could come to their aid, if need be. Having learned from an informer what awaited them in Kornitsa,11 however, the revivalists walked straight into the mayor’s office upon arrival and remained there.

Everybody in the village waited. Gradually, the women started gathering in front of the council. I could see everything from behind a stairwell. The women above roared: “Dogs! Get out! What do you want from us?” For a while, nobody came out. Then Shopov, the lieutenant, and Nanchev, the mayor, showed up. The lieutenant pulled his pistol out and shot in the air once or twice. At that moment, ago Bayram’s daughter, Amideyka, took her board out and walked toward the lieutenant: “Shoot here, dog, [point- ing to her chests]! Shoot here!” He slowly backed out and disappeared behind the door. No one came out again that day.

It was, thus, quickly over in Kornitsa in 1960 (?).12 The attempt to force women into new attire in the neighboring village of Breznitsa days after the Kornitsa affair also failed. However, before they dispatched revivalists to the village, the authorities detained the young hodzha (hoca, religious teacher) of Breznitsa, hoping that by forcing him first to renounce name and religion, others would follow suit. According to Ramadan, they threatened him that unless his wife adopted the dress, they would not release him. When the women of Breznitsa heard of the arrest, they started convening at the lower extremity of the village. As a jeep-load of revivalists headed toward Breznitsa, with the hodzha, they stumbled upon an access road blocked by women. Forcing the vehicle to a

10 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventories 39–40, Archival Units, passim (see chapter three). Also, Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, 99–111; Eminov, “Social Construction of Identities: Pomaks in Bulgaria,” passim. 11 Ramadan Runtov, interview. 12 Even though Ramadan did not recall the exact year, it must have been 1960, because it is the year registered in the collective local memory as the time of forced resettlement, when the communist regime evicted many Pomak families from their ancestral homes in the Rhodopes, scattering them throughout Bulgaria. Also, by 1964, the time of another assimilation attempt, Ramadan had already been exiled from Kornitsa. 150 chapter 4 stop, these self-styled amazons surrounded the revivalists, and Ava Dŭrvova shattered the windshield with a bludgeon. The women then collectively pulled the hodzha out of the jeep and safely escorted him home. “The militsia just stood there stupefied and did know what to do,” Ramadan reports. As a member of the communist party, the regime expected Ramadan to cooperate with their revival efforts. Having repeatedly failed to comply with their instructions, however, the authorities began to harass him. They systematically summoned Ramadan to the local police station, where the regime’s efforts to secure his cooperation progressed from verbal to physical abuse. On one occasion, he reported to the office of the local agent of State Security (Dŭrzhavna Sigurnost), who “immediately took his coat off, threw it on the chair, pulled down the window blinds, locked the door,” and proceeded to strike Ramadan, who was still standing by the door. “If you hit me one more time,” he gasped in exasperation, “I will throw you out of the window or my name is not Ramadan. . . . I’ll throw you out of that window and you’ll burst like a pumpkin down there. They may cut me to pieces afterwards, but you won’t be sound either.” Rather brawny and confident in his physical strength, Ramadan took a bold step toward his abuser, but the latter pulled his pistol out shouting: “Stop or I’ll shoot you on the spot.”

Shoot if you dare, you, son of a bitch! Is this what you’ve learned from Communism!? In fifteen years of people’s government, you’ve learned to be murderers! Yours is no Communism. You’ve completely distorted Lenin’s directives. What did Lenin say, huh? Everyone has the right to be Communist regardless of religion or language. But what are you doing!?

Then lowering his gun, the agent said conciliatorily: “Why are you agitating the people!?”13 As the pressure on the Pomaks to change their names intensified, Ramadan renounced his membership in the communist party and began to speak out against the vŭzhroditelen protses. Moreover, his determination to encourage people to resist grew stronger. In 1961–1962, his family, along with many others, labeled “troublemakers,” was exiled hundreds of kilometers away from the ancestral home and community, from southwest to central Bulgaria. But even in exile, there was no respite for Ramadan. As the communist regime moved to change Muslim names in 1964, equipped with his ancestors’ identification papers, Ramadan went from one state institution to another trying to prove

13 Ramadan Runtov, interview. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 151 that the Pomaks had historically borne Muslim names, not the Christian ones the government was forcing on them. He even initiated a civil litigation challenging the constitutionality of the vŭzhroditelen protses only to be curtly informed by the judge that there was nothing he could do to stop it.14 In October 1964, Ramadan received visitors from his home village with the news that Kornitsa and the adjacent Pomak communities were surrounded by a revivalist force of local bureaucrats, militsia (police), and civilian (Christian) zealots. Scores of people fled into the woods as a result, and were now unshel- tered, starving, and ailing for days under the relentless, cold autumnal rain.15 It was a group of these refugees who travelled hundreds of kilometers to Ramadan’s new home in central Bulgaria to seek counsel and help. The same day, Ramadan took them to the Turkish consulate in Sofia. As he delivered the news, the consul exclaimed: “How’s that possible? Here are your witnesses. Ask them. Eighty people are hiding in the woods. They haven’t eaten in three days. They have nothing. These people will starve to death or die of cold.” The consul picked up the phone, and Ramadan heard him reporting the news to Ankara. Shortly afterwards, a fax came through, and the consul encouraged the group to go home with the reassurance that the renaming would stop. By the time the men reached Kornitsa on foot a few days later, the blockade had been lifted. The whole revival affair had already been aborted, and people were vigorously tearing off the very same declarations they had signed earlier, ostensibly requesting to take new names. The same was happening in the nearby village of Ribnovo, where the communist authorities made quite the dramatic appearance both to appease as well as to intimidate the population. According to a widely circulated story, the regime flew a helicopter into Ribnovo. As it landed on the fields just outside the village, however, the whole population came together resolved to let no revivalist in the village. “Whatever you have to say to us, say it here?” the people insisted. “We won’t do anything to you. Go home!”16 Indeed, for the time being this was the end of the forced assimilation against the wider Pomak community. As oral and documentary evidence suggests, the combined factors of external pressure from Turkey and the regime’s own qualms about the stability of their government as early as 1964 temporarily halted the vŭzhroditelen protses.17

14 Ibid. 15 Ismail Byalkov, interview by author, Istanbul, Turkey, May 20, 2007. Also, Ramadan Runtov, interview. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid.; Ramadan Runtov, interview; Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventories 38–40, Archival Units, passim. 152 chapter 4

Figure 4-2 Ramadan with His Family, circa 1959–1960 Ramadan with his wife (left) and two infant sons (the third had not been born yet), and his two sisters (right and back) in Kornitsa, the Rhodopes, before being exiled to Dolno Izvorovo, central Bulgaria. (Courtesy of Ramadan Runtov.)

However, the ordeal was just beginning for Ramadan Runtov. As he collected petitions against the forced assimilation and submitted them to the Turkish consulate in Bulgaria, hence, making the affair known to the outside world, Bulgaria’s communist regime grew nervously irate. “We had put together an organization of sorts,” Ramadan explains to me, “We (Muslims) were coming together from everywhere, doing prayers, discussing [the vŭzhroditelen protses] and collecting petitions, which I then took to the Turkish consulate in Sofia or Plovdiv. I was delivering petitions to the consulate every Friday; Friday was a A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 153 day for rest and prayer, and I was delivering petitions, too. On one occasion I took a petition to the consulate with 3,800 signatures collected from across the [Muslim] villages. . . . [W]e were protesting. We wanted to let everybody know what was happening [in Bulgaria] and that it was against our will. So we took our petitions to the Turkish consulate.”18 For Ramadan and the wider Pomak community, most of the 1960s passed in protesting, anxious waiting, and toiling on the land for economic survival. Whereas Ramadan made a living for his wife, three sons and himself as a construction worker and farmer in central Bulgaria, most Pomak families in the Rhodopes grew tobacco as a cash crop. Then came the 1970s. “It was May 11, 1972. This I vividly remember.” Ramadan reminisces. “I was working for this Bulgarian [Christian] in one village. He was a communist, a member of the local party committee. We had a good relationship, though, he and I. One day he bluntly warned me: ‘Ramadan, don’t show up for work tomorrow. They are conspiring to arrest you and change your name.’ ” Thus began the most harrowing chapter of Ramadan’s and most Pomaks’ life in communist Bulgaria: the final and complete revivalization. This bold move occurred in response to fundamental political changes within the larger communist bloc. After Joseph Stalin’s death in 1953, the new Soviet Union’s leader Nikita Khrushchev denounced Stalin and eliminated his cult of personality, thus, ush- ering in a gradual process of easing of dictatorial rule across Eastern Europe. As a result, by the late 1960s, such reform-minded communist leaders as Czechoslovakia’s head of state Alexander Dubček embarked on political and economic democratization of his country. The liberalization and decentraliza- tion of the administrative authority in Czechoslovakia, however, did not sit well with the Soviet Union, which saw in it a dangerous precedent for the rest of the communist bloc and a direct threat to its total dominance over the communist states of Eastern Europe. Thus, in the spring of 1968, the Soviet army occupied the country, viciously crushing the budding Czechoslovakian democracy. (History poetically remembers this tragic event as The Prague Spring.) The Soviet brutality sent shockwaves across the region. Whereas most ordinary people, especially dissidents, trembled in fear and desperation, the loyal communist rulers of Eastern Europe, especially in Bulgaria, relished the sense of empowerment.19 By 1972, with firm confidence in their absolute authority, the Bulgarian communist party re-launched the vŭzhroditelen protses. Moreover, the regime was determined to complete the renaming of the Pomaks once and for all. In his

18 Ramadan Runtov, interview. 19 Markov, passim. 154 chapter 4 place of political exile in the village of Dolno Izvorovo, Kazanlŭk Region (central Bulgaria), Ramadan resumed his anti-revivalism out of necessity. As Pomak villages were once more besieged by heavily armed troops, militsia, and patriotic civilians—on a much larger and more aggressive scale than in the 1960s— Ramadan and his co-villagers organized the defense of Dolno Izvorovo. However, just as the regime was determined to successfully conclude the name changing, so were the Pomak dissenters prepared to resist. As the menace of forced assimilation loomed larger, the villagers armed themselves with farm implements, wooden boards, extra gasoline, and even Molotov cocktails to defend themselves. In 1972, Ramadan’s anti-revivalism was taking place on two fronts, hundreds of kilometers apart: in his native village of Kornitsa, southwest Bulgaria, and in his place of exile, Dolno Izvorovo, central Bulgaria. Similar to many exiled Pomaks, Ramadan and his family kept in touch with Kornitsa and the wider Western Rhodopes through a network of relatives, friends, and co-villagers who travelled back and forth from southwest to central Bulgaria to visit with family members. As the danger of revivalism reemerged in the early 1970s, these visiting patterns acquired a new meaning. They effectively transformed into a network of reconnaissance and communication, where people exchanged information about what was taking place on the other end and coordinated their actions accordingly. A vocal opponent of the vŭzhroditelen protses and a respected member of the community, Ramadan soon transpired as one of the leaders of the Pomak organized resistance not only in his place of exile—Dolno Izvorovo, but also at home, in Kornitsa.

Trouble in Exile

In May 1972, trouble in Dolno Izvorovo began for the Pomak families that had been forcibly resettled from the Rhodopes in the early 1960s. In a determined effort to prevent the name changing, the whole village population got together to keep the revivalists at bay. In Dolno Izvorovo (Lower Izvorovo), just like in the Rhodopes, the Pomaks made a living by farming collectivized land to grow crops for little cash and personal sustenance, as well as to graze a few heads of sheep and cattle. Most men supplemented their family income by doing construction work, while women worked in the local textile factories. There was a factory in the nearby village of Gorno Izvorovo (Upper Izvorovo), where most of the women from Ramadan’s village worked. And they were home from work by 10 o’clock every day. This particular day in May 1972, however, they were not. Already suspecting new assimilation moves, Ramadan immediately dispatched A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 155 a youngster, in possession of a precious motorbike, on a reconnaissance mission: “Shaban, ride your bike to the factory and see what’s going on with the women!” Recognizing the urgency of the situation, Shaban returned promptly to report that the women were being held in the factory against their will. Ramadan and the rest of the village men hastily convened for a council. The first order of business was to barricade the main artery connecting the string of villages to the main provincial city of Kazanlŭk in order to ensure that the women would not be transported into town unbeknownst to them. In Kazanlŭk, with large militsia and army units, the anti-revivalist group would have no leverage at all to rescue their wives, daughters, or mothers. Adjacent to the men’s blockade position was a military base that housed a tank division. The soldiers were out on a drill that day—deliberately, according to Ramadan— to “scare the population,” and nip potential resistance in its bud. “So we stood there guarding the road, armed with wooden boards which had nails sticking out.” Ramadan explains. “And we stopped every vehicle to make sure that none of our women were inside. Then we let them go.” Whoever refused to comply, the men stopped by placing the boards along the width of the road so the vehicle’s tires would blow out. They stopped military cars as well. On one occasion, they forced the vehicle of a captain to a halt, who loudly objected: “ ‘What right do you have to stop military personnel?’ ‘We have every right.’ ” Ramadan replied on behalf of all, and the men proceeded with their business. “Then, we saw a jeep heading straight for the fields to avoid us . . .” But even before that, a young woman by the name Fatme, overlooked in the bath- rooms, had managed to sneak out of the factory and had rushed to inform the men. “Ago Ramadan, all women are being held in the factory and they are getting ready to change their names.” So, Fatme was there when the jeep cut straight through the fields in an apparent attempt to escape the roadblock. In the vehicle, besides the driver, there were two men occupying the back seats. As Ramadan and his collaborators tried to question the driver over the maneuver, Fatme recognized the two passengers: “These two detained the women?” They were prominent local apparatchiks. While pondering over what to do with the two apparent revivalists, Ramadan’s group received the news that seven of their co-villagers—forest workers—had been arrested in the nearby village of Enina. After brief deliberation, Ramadan turned to the jeep’s occupants and made his proposition: “Listen, you see all these people here— children, women, and men? You see how many of us we are, right? Well, seven of our people have been arrested in Enina. We will let you go now, but if they are not reunited with us within the next hour and a half, this entire multitude—you see right here, in front of you—will be heading your way, to Enina. We will burn the council’s building down no matter how much militsia 156 chapter 4 you have to protect you.” Indeed, before the deadline had expired, the seven foresters were safely back in Dolno Izvorovo, as well as the factory women. From May 11 to September 25, 1972, the villagers stuck together awaiting the worst. For nearly five months, no man, woman, or child ventured out of the village. No one was able to work in the fields either. “All summer long we spent each night sticking together in someone’s house. The women slept indoors, and we—the men—napped outside while taking turns to patrol the village. We had to be alert at all times to make sure no intruders came in.” However, while Ramadan’s village was arming with farm implements, kitchen utensils, and Molotov cocktails, “a couple of snitches among us . . . had been informing the authorities of all we did,” Ramadan tells me. Meanwhile the crops, planted in the spring, were rotting in the fields without being harvested. As the agricultural cooperative grew anxious about the empty granaries, they spoke to the local bureaucrats of the urgency to harvest the crops and the need to postpone the vŭzhroditelen protses. The authorities apparently relented and took steps to convince the wretched population that no renaming would take place if they resumed their farm work. Thus, on September 25, 1972, “the women began harvesting the crops, while the men went back to construction.” Life continued more or less peacefully in Dolno Izvorovo until February 12, 1973, when the harassment resumed and the name changing was formally finalized.20 While seemingly reconciled, most Pomaks accepted identity papers with new names, but continued to use their traditional names among themselves.21 The ordeal for those like Ramadan, however, who refused to take Bulgarian names, was just beginning.

Bloody Revival in the Rhodopes

If the Pomak renaming in Dolno Izvorovo, and elsewhere, went without major incidents, it was not the case in Kornitsa (as well as in Ribnovo and Lŭzhnitsa). As the regime stepped up with the vŭzhroditelen protses, guns were fired and blood was spilled in the Pomak stronghold of the Rhodopes. Drawing from the experience of Dolno Izvorovo of 1972 and using the visiting/reconnaissance network, Ramadan Runtov encouraged the population of Kornitsa to resist by

20 Ramadan Runtov, interview. 21 Assessment on the Implementation of the Decision of the Secretariat of the Bulgarian Communist Party’s Central Committee from July 17, 1970, Concerning the Pomak Vŭzhroditelen Protses. The document is dated May 8, 1978, and numbered 005805, pages 60–80. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, pages 71–73. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 157 sticking together and by letting no revivalist force in the village. Although the regime restricted his movement to the village of Dolno Izvorovo and its vicinity only, Ramadan was able to send instructions, along with anti-revivalist literature, to Kornitsa through various visiting family members. Thus, facing guns yet again in 1973, the people of Kornitsa—under the impromptu leadership of such local people as Bayram Geta, dubbed the General—met the fully armed intruders with clubs, knives, and domestic implements, as Dolno Izvorovo had done nearly a year earlier. They barricaded the village and did not let anybody in. For six days, a 1996 news clipping attests, the population managed to ward off the revivalists and to keep the renaming at bay. “The reason for the 1973 revolt of the Pomaks,” the article confirms, “was the name changing. It made the Hassans into Ivans, the Ahmeds into Assens and so on. And Kornitsa did not like that.” On the night of March 28, “about 2,000 horse police were thrown against us! But people of the neighboring villages Lŭzhnitsa and Breznitsa came to our aid,” the then mayor of Kornitsa, Bayram Zul, is quoted as saying. Five people were killed during these events. According to the official version, cited by the news clipping, they had fallen victims to ricocheting bullets or were stampeded by the crowd. But eyewit- nesses had a different story to tell: “‘They killed Ismail a few days later,’ recounts a relative of the late Ismail, ‘[after he refused to sign a declaration to change his name].’ . . . ‘They killed my father without reason,’ says the 28-year-old Shazie . . . ‘They buried the bodies somewhere along the [Greek] border. These people never received proper burial.’ ”22 Another news clipping, clearly reflecting the communist version of the story, confirms the bloodshed in Kornitsa and attests to Ramadan’s involvement in orchestrating the resistance. These “most dramatic and tragic” events in Kornitsa happened because “Ramadan Runtov had established an illegal organization there. . . . He was persuading the villagers not to change their names and to insist that they were Turks [Muslims]. . . . He was distributing bro- chures . . . that made allegations of killing and rape of Muslims in our country.”23 Among other things, the author of the article Boncho Assenov effectively reveals how the rioting began in Kornitsa. In January 1973, Pomak employees of the local agriculture and forestry cooperatives were summoned to Gotse Delchev, the regional administrative center, supposedly to address work- related matters. Upon returning to Kornitsa, however, these people claimed to have been beaten into signing declarations to change their names. Thereafter, remembering the turbulent 1964, Kornitsa immediately went on the defensive.

22 Pavlina Trifonova, “Kornitsa pak izpravi na nokti Bulgaria,” Sega 13, April 4–10, 1996, 22–23. 23 Boncho Assenov, “Kakvo stana prez 1973 godina?” Sega 13, April 4–10, 1996, 23. 158 chapter 4

Figure 4-3 A Commemorative Monument in the Village of Kornitsa A monument in the center of Kornitsa today commemorates the deaths of 69-year- old Moharem Bargan, 45-year-old Hussein Karaalil, 35-year-old Salih Amidein, 22-year-old Tefik Hadzhi of Breznitsa, and 50-year-old Ismail Kalyor. The inscription reads: “Always alive in our hearts. In memory of those killed as a result of the assimilatory politics of the communist regime, March 1973. Hussein Karaalil, Moharem Bargan, Salih Amidein, Tefik Hadzhi, Ismail Kalyuor.”

Everything began on January 23, 1973, as Assenov accurately notes, when a (Christian) militsioner (communist policeman) allegedly travelled to Kornitsa to see a friend. The more likely explanation for this ill-timed journey, however, appears to have been spying. But true intents aside, the villagers—clearly sus- picious—did not let him into Kornitsa. Then, allegedly without any reason, the entire Pomak population of Kornitsa suddenly refused to work in the fields, stopped their children from attending school, and completely shut themselves in. Moreover, they started congregating on the public square in organized round-the-clock vigils, apparently armed with pocket knives, kitchen knives, axes, clubs, and even two pistols, as Assenov explains referencing the items confiscated after the renaming. They had also set up signals of communications with the neighboring villages of Lŭzhnitsa and Breznitsa, which, according to the author, “had promised to come to their aid.” Aid against what and whom, the question arises, if indeed the regime did not plan to carry out the A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 159 vŭzhroditelen protses, as Assenov maintains. Ultimately, he solves this contra- diction by charging Ramadan Runtov with establishing an “illegal organization” in Kornitsa from hundreds of kilometers away, in exile, and taking “control of the village for two months practically setting a pro-Turkish government with almost military regime.” Thus, Assenov—similar to many other “patriots” in Bulgaria—blames the brutal renaming in Kortnitsa of 1973 on people’s “rioting,” not on the heavily armed troops, militsia, and civilians enforcing the vŭzhroditelen protses.24 Having organized the supply of firewood during the two-month vigil on Kornitsa’s public square, Ismail Byalkov (a former political prisoner) relates to me an altogether different version. I interviewed Ismail just hours before I met with Ramadan Runtov in May 2007, and neither had been aware of my research or me until the moment I knocked on their doors. I interviewed them independently, and received the same general storyline of the events in Kornitsa: Ismail, as he witnessed them, and Ramadan, as he learned about them from deliberate envoys, keeping open the connection between Dolno Izvorovo and the Rhodopes. Thus, on January 23, 1973, as Ismail recounts, the village population was assembled on the public square. When the authorities first arrived in Kornitsa, they tried to pressure all local party members and salaried individuals to take part in the renaming. As the people remained on the square frightened but reluctant to change their names, so did the authorities. “Had they left [Kornitsa],” Ismail says, “the people would have dispersed and that might have been the end of it.” But it was not to be. Awaiting the worst, the whole Pomak population of Kornitsa clung to each other for support inside the village, while an assortment of troops, militsia, fire brigades, and armed civilians were laying siege on them from the outside. This tense state of affairs continued from January 23 to March 28, 1973. The whole village had gathered on the public square and remained there throughout that time. “We stayed put day and night, in snow and rain, all of us: children and adults. We were building big fires to keep warm. We slept in shifts: while some slept, the rest kept vigil!” recalls Ismail. He and a few other men were responsible for collecting firewood to maintain the fires. Then, on the morning of March 28, 1973, the village was surrounded by a combined force of horseback police, fire brigades, and plainclothes.25 As Ismail explains, “[t]hey were all dressed in civilian clothes: fire brigades . . . everyone. Now, whether they

24 Ibid. 25 Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, passim; Trifonova, passim; Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1, Inventories 38–40, Archival Units, passim; Ramadan Runtov, interview. 160 chapter 4

Figure 4-4 At Ismail’s Once Fikrie (the student from my hometown who met me in Istanbul) introduced me to the Pomak community in the suburb of Güneşli, my research in Istanbul became a communal enterprise. In the photo ( from left to right): Ibrahim Byalkov, his father Ismail Byalkov (my informant), Ibrahim’s wife, and my Güneşli hostess Ava Cesur (right) with her then teenage daughter, as well as a neighbor and good friend of Ava’s with her little girl who tagged along (unfortunately, their names escape me)— all originally from Bulgaria.

were civilians from the neighboring [Christian] villages or militsia, I couldn’t tell. Very few of them were wearing [military] uniforms; they were on horses. But those that did the beating were wearing plain clothes. . . . [T]here were loads of them. The whole village was surrounded.”26 As bullets began to rain on the multitude on March 28, “the whole square was smeared in blood,” Ismail tells me. After terrifying the population, wound- ing scores, and leaving five dead, the regime began the arrests. Everyone spot- ted on the public square was rounded up and stuffed into a building which served Kornitsa as a sports club at the time. As they were brought in, people were lined up along the wall, facing inwards. According to Ismail’s testimony, a wrestling ring occupied the center of the hall and a pond of blood had already

26 Ismail Byalkov, interview. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 161 formed in the middle of it—“blood from the beatings.” “There was so much blood there that you could scoop it with a bucket. I saw this with my own eyes: When they took me in, I saw two individuals, naked from the waste up, each wielding a club, just waiting for someone to move or shift position to strike.” Ismail immediately noticed the person standing nearest the door—Uruch Bachev of Breznitsa (a neighboring village), because his cheek was slashed open and a piece of loose flesh was dangling about. As the regional militsia chief, Stoychev, walked in, the wounded man addressed him: “Comrade Stoychev, I gave blood yesterday and I lost more today . . . Can I sit down?” When given leave to do so, another person asked: “May I sit down?,” but immediately received a blow to the head. Ismail just saw the man collapsing to the ground. From where he stood, he could not recognize who he was. The man survived that day. Whereas Ismail avoided a beating in the sports club, he was nevertheless arrested and endured six years of harsh treatment as a political prisoner, along with many other people from Kornitsa, Breznitsa, and Lŭzhnitsa. “That’s what happened [in 1973 in Kornitsa], Fatme!” my informant concludes. “And all this was filmed. The authorities documented everything, but it will probably never see the light of day. They had brought a big camera with them and filmed everything. I saw that personally.”27 Thus, in spite of the bloodshed and probably because of it, the regime finalized the vŭzhroditelen protses. By 1974, the Pomaks had acquired new identities. Their Bulgarian-Christian names now had to appear on all identification papers, including passports, birth certificates, and savings accounts. Those without proper documentation not only could not access their salaries, pensions, or bank accounts, but also they faced unemployment, fines, and even imprisonment.28

Prison Tribulations

1 Arrest, Detention, and Trial Singled out as particularly dangerous, the communist regime lost no time in detaining Ramadan, along with his closest collaborators. His arrest was most carefully orchestrated. In 1973, Ramadan and his crew were working on a construction site, when an army jeep with two or three individuals approached him. “Ramadan, you’ll have to come with us to take measurements for a new construction site in Sheynovo, so we can go ahead with digging the foundation.”

27 Ibid. 28 Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, 107. 162 chapter 4

When Ramadan picked up his instruments and got into one of the jeep’s back seats, he noticed that the vehicle’s interior was blackened out. As they drove off, Ramadan heard one of the men, who had come to collect him, transmitting on the radio that they had left the site with him. They indeed took Ramadan to Sheynovo, where he put the foundation markers for a new building. But when the jeep drove out of Sheynovo and into the deserted fields, a traffic police stopped them. “Everyone out!” they ordered. “We need to inspect the vehicle.” As soon as Ramadan scrambled out of the dark interior of the jeep and into the blinding daylight, two of the militsioners (policemen) immediately restrained his arms twisting them backwards. In his initial fright, he managed to extricate himself from the captors’ grip to be instantly overpowered by others. At that moment, “I felt a stinging pain in my [lower] leg . . .” Ramadan explains. “They must have struck me with a piece of metal or something. To this day I have a scar there. Squatting down to protect myself, I felt blood streaming down my leg. Then—what seemed to me like—a whole crowd—civilians, militsia, and two dogs—ganged on me. And—My God!—in their eyes it looked as if they’d caught The Big Enemy!” After restraining him, Ramadan’s abductors blind- folded him, pushed him into the back of the jeep, covered his head with a blanket, and took him to the police station in Stara Zagora. “When we arrived in Stara Zagora, there was a swarm of journalists waiting to photograph me. Yeah! They’d caught The Big Villain!” Ramadan laughs. What transpired that day was rather bizarre to Ramadan. Perceiving himself of no particular importance as a political dissenter, he was totally taken aback by the publicity given to his arrest, and even more puzzled by the great lengths to which the regime went to detain him. “They could have taken me any time and any place they wanted.” He struggled to find explanation, for example, as to why the militsioners did not just arrest him on the job site, but chose instead to abduct him while posing as traffic police. In Ramadan’s own estimation, he constituted a “nobody” back in the 1970s. He had nowhere to hide. Nor had he influential protectors to look after him. He saw himself as a person—among many others—who disagreed with the regime and stood his own grounds, but who feared the potentially dangerous consequences for himself and his family. The authorities, Ramadan thought, accorded him far greater significance than he deserved, once, by painstakingly organizing his abduction and, then, by making a spectacle of his arrest. Perhaps, as the celebrated Bulgarian dissident writer Georgy Markov suspected, the regime felt the need to overstate the danger—whatever and whenever—in order to distract the nation from the poor economic situation and deepening political oppression in the country, A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 163 as well as to convey the warning that no dissent would be tolerated.29 By the mid-1970s, as Markov’s case brilliantly illustrates,30 political dissent was on the rise in Bulgaria, as elsewhere in the Eastern Bloc. Thus, one may speculate that by dramatizing Ramadan’s case, the regime was hoping not only to channel the popular sentiment against “subversive” Muslim (pro-Turkish) elements, but also—and more importantly—to cut short the nascent Pomak resistance.31 After he was arrested, Ramadan spent the next several months in pre-trial detention. Awaiting trial, he was moved from facility to facility, starved, abused, and kept in information blackout. While in the State Security headquarters in Sofia, the authorities held him in an underground cell. “They had a network of tunnels underground. They kept me in these tunnels at night. And there was a plaque in every cell saying: ‘If your arms are tied up at the waist, prepare for a long journey . . . ’ That referred to the detainees [like me]. ‘If your arms are bound in front, you will be hanged. If your arms are bound at the back, you will be shot.’ ” One day, they bound Ramadan’s arms seemingly for execution by shooting. Plain-clothed personnel with machine guns took him out of the cell and led him about twenty meters into the tunnels. The light was on. The order came: “Stand still. Don’t turn back, or you will be shot.” He stood there and waited in suspense for hours. Finally, someone came down for him, and Ramadan heard a voice: “Bring him upstairs. It’s not going to be tonight.” The intent was not to dispose of Ramadan as it appeared, however, but to extract confession from him for conspiring to overthrow the government. It was vital for the communist regime to maintain the charade of treasonous conspiracy in order to stifle dissent, while banking on xenophobic sentiment.32 After months of pretrial interrogation in the State Security headquarters in Sofia, Ramadan was moved to a prison in Burgass, a city in southeast Bulgaria.

29 Markov, passim. 30 Markov, a well-known dissident and writer, defected from Bulgaria in 1969. Having relocated to Great Britain, he launched a scathing criticism of the Bulgarian communist regime as a broadcaster and journalist for the BBC World Service, the US-funded Radio Free Europe, and Germany-based Deutsche Welle. It is believed that as a result of this activism, the Bulgarian government disposed of him, with the help of KGB. He was killed in London in 1978 by someone, who stabbed his leg with a ricin-poisoned umbrella. 31 Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, passim. Also, Information about Turkey’s Activities against the Vŭzhroditelen Protses for the Period 27 June–3 July 1987. The document is dated from July 3, 1987, and signed by then Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs, Gen. Lieutenant St. Savov, pages 1–6. (There is no archival reference on the document). For details, refer to chapter three (conclusion). 32 Ibid. 164 chapter 4

There for the first time, he was allowed to write a letter to his family and to receive visitation. This was also a ploy. As his wife and two of his sons came to see him in prison, they were instructed to persuade him to change his name. It did not work. Despite the continuing harassment, Ramadan was happy to see his family after months in detention and disinformation. From Burgass, Ramadan was moved to a facility for political prisoners in Stara Zagora (a city in central Bulgaria) near his village of exile—Dolno Izvorovo, where his trial finally began.33 Ramadan and his companions, as Krum Karakachanov—the defense attor- ney—recalled in an interview from the year 2000, “were prosecuted for treason; for organizing a rebellion to overthrow the people’s government.” “When I heard the charge,” he said, “I thought to myself: ‘My God! That is an Article 70 crime, the most serious crime under the [then] Penal Code!’ ”34 Whereas Ramadan was officially tried for treason, his sentence was relatively mild, because with no evidence to prove it and no confession, the authorities could not pursue a lengthily prison sentence or capital punishment. He received eight years in prison instead of twenty or the death penalty, as the law (Article 70 of the Penal Code) provided, while the rest got between three and eight years. Ultimately, the reason for the discrepancy between charge and penalty stemmed from the regime’s recognition that neither Ramadan, nor any of his co-activists truly intended or had the capacity to overthrow the communist government. To downplay the vŭzhroditelen protses, as well as to discourage dissent among the people, however, the authorities put on a good performance for the masses. Peppering it with accusations of treason, they effectively played on people’s fears to inspire support for the vŭzhroditelen protses. In his early forties when first arrested, Ramadan spent more than a decade behind bars as a political prisoner.

2 Tortured Prisoner After his sentencing, the prison authorities kept Ramadan on a regimen of constant harassment, starvation, and sleep deprivation. At one point he spent forty-five straight days in solitary confinement, in extremely cold tempera- tures, deliberately flooded cell floor to keep him standing on an ice sheet, and in a single layer of ragged clothes. “Although I was exhausted from sleepless- ness,” he tells me, “I determined not to fall asleep by endlessly pacing around

33 Ramadan Runtov, interview. 34 Petŭr Marchev, ed., “Buntŭt na pomatsite, obvineni e izmyana i predatelstvo,” Iskra 19, March 10, 2000. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 165 the cell and singing to myself in Turkish.”35 Under the pretense of singing, Ramadan got to know some of his prison mates, as well as to communicate with them occasionally. Thus, he discovered that people from Kornitsa had been arrested as well, among which was Ismail Byalkov, my other key informant from Istanbul. Ismail independently confirmed Ramadan’s grueling account of isolation, abuse, and chronic starvation in prison. Branded as one of the masterminds of Pomak organized resistance, alongside Bayram Geta- the General and others of Kornitsa, Ramadan was deemed particularly dangerous and kept in a heavy security ward. Whereas the regime viewed the majority of Muslim political prisoners simply as “troublemakers,” Ramadan was in an entirely different category.36 He was not allowed to work in the prison wood- shop, farm, or construction projects like most prisoners. Giving a job to Ramadan, already used to hard work, in addition to letting him socialize with other inmates, was tantamount to rewarding him. Therefore, they kept him alone and barely fed. His basic prison diet consisted of bread and water. Bread, at that, was in such short supply that without the help of working inmates he could have starved to death. Ismail often shared his meager rations with Ramadan out of profound respect for him. As Ramadan explains, most often Ismail, or another inmate, would save a piece of bread and hide it in the bathroom’s trashcans. This was the only place to safely hide food intended for a “dangerous” prisoner without too much risk for one’s own wellbeing. The rest of the time, Ramadan would forage the garbage containers for scraps of food that other prisoners had discarded. Whatever he found, he shared with another inmate, Fikret, a Turkish national convicted of spying for Turkey, and kept in similar conditions as Ramadan.

We were in the same predicament, Fikret and I. So we’d go to the toilets and scavenge for food—any food. The prison population was tossing all their filth there, but sometimes they would throw excess food they weren’t permitted to keep. Whichever one of us found any bread, we shared it. It worked like this: Whenever they’d let him out for a walk, he’d scavenge the trash containers for scraps of bread. If he found any, he would eat half of it and leave the rest behind for me. When back in his cell, he’d knock on my wall to let me know if there was any bread or not.

35 Ramadan Runtov, interview. Note: This information was independently confirmed by Ismail Byalkov who spent time in solitary confinement under the same conditions and in the same facility as Ramadan. (Ismail Byalkov, interview.) 36 Ismail Byalkov, interview. 166 chapter 4

A double knock meant there was bread for the other. I did the same for him when out. . . . That’s how we survived.

Feeding from the garbage was a dangerous affair, Ramadan found out, for he almost died of food poisoning one time. But hunger was unbearable. One day, it was his turn to scavenge the trash containers. They had not found anything for days. As Ramadan turned the container upside down in desperation, at the very bottom of it, he found a piece of bread, “all blackened and such . . . tossed there a long time ago. But I took it—took half of it. The other half, I buried back in. I tried to wash the bread with water somewhat. It softened up a little bit. I had no place to hide it. If the guards were to catch me with it, I’d be beaten. . . . So, as soon as I was back in my cell, I knocked twice to Fikret and ate my half immediately. It was just a tiny little piece. He got his own half as well.” No more than thirty minutes later “I felt violently sick at my stomach. ‘Mother, I’m dying!’—I thought. I could neither keep still, nor lay in any comfortable position. I was cramping so badly that I almost lost my wits.” As Ramadan was pacing back and forth in the cell, it occurred to him to drink water—as much as he could swallow—to induce vomiting. He swallowed until he started throwing up. “The more I drank the more I threw up. The pain was excruciating.” Gradually, it subdued and Ramadan was able to take a breath of relief. Then, he heard “frantic striding and stomping” on Fikret’s side of his cell.

Fikret, what’s going on? I’m dying. Did you eat that beard? I did. Then drink! Drink as much water as you can and try to vomit. That’s your only salvation. Drink water and vomit! Drink and vomit! We never slept that night, but we were still alive in the morning.

Chronic starvation was not the biggest of Ramadan’s problem. The abuse was worse. If constant slapping, punching, and kicking were a daily existence, beating to unconsciousness occurred with terrifying frequency. One evening three wardens beat him to unconsciousness. As he tried to sit up upon regaining his senses some time later, blood gushed out of his mouth.

I reached for the bucket and pretty much bled over it for most of the night. At that moment I truly believed I was a broken man. . . . By the morning, I couldn’t open my mouth. It was livid and swollen. They had A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 167

been kicking me in the face apparently . . . In the morning, they brought me some tea. I had never been given tea before. One cup of tea . . . and some bread! Well, I was very hungry, but I couldn’t eat.

As the days progressed and Ramadan ate nothing, they called a medic to see him. The medic, visibly nervous, opened his mouth with some difficulty and pretty much pulled out several of Ramadan’s teeth with his fingers. “‘I can only apply this medicine now,’ he told me, ‘and I hope that the rest of your teeth will stay intact.’ He smeared me with some green medication that caused a tighten- ing sensation in my mouth.” Within a month and a half, though, Ramadan lost all his teeth. “They simply fell out,” he tells me. Ramadan spent a total of two months and eight days in solitary confinement under extreme and restrictive conditions. Whereas the cell was plenty tall, it was not wide enough for a person to sit or lie down in any comfortable position. A small aperture, with a single broken piece of glass on it, rattling with every gust of winter wind, was located high above, beyond the eyes’ reach, near the ceiling. The isolation cells were flooded with water that turned into ice and kept the prisoners’ feet—protected only by rubber galoshes and torn socks—cold at all times. In solitary confinement, the prison authorities stripped the inmates’ of their own warmer clothes and gave them worn-out prison attire instead, complemented by two thin blankets to keep them alive at night. During the day, they took away one of the blankets, too.37 To keep himself from freezing to death, Ramadan had to stay awake. He followed a regiment: When they would let him out to the bathroom in the morning, he would sprinkle the upper part of his body with (cold) water. Then, back in his cell, he would wrap himself in all the clothes and blankets he had. Shivering, he would gradually warm up a little and catch an hour or so of slumber. This was the only way he could sleep for a brief while; roughly one hour out of every twenty four. “Sleep was impossible at night,” Ramadan shares. Those who succumbed to it at night were pretty much doomed. One morning, he heard the guards dragging away an inmate who apparently had fallen asleep and suffered bad frost bites. “He screamed with pain and fright—I guess— when he saw the livid nails of his limbs in the daylight, ‘My nails are falling off! My nails are falling off!’ he screamed as the wardens consoled him, ‘Don’t worry! You’ll grow new ones.’ ” Placing Muslim prisoners in freezing isolation was part of the deliberate strategy to make them sign papers declaring willingness to change their names. Because Ramadan persistently refused to do so,

37 Ramadan Runtov, interview; Ismail Byalkov, interview. 168 chapter 4 thus instigating others to resist, the authorities were particularly brutal with him. One of Ramadan’s fellow prisoners, a young man from his native village, Kŭdri, could not make it past the third night in isolation. Ramadan just heard him crying: “Get me out! Get me out of here! I’ll sign! I’ll sign anything you want me to!” Indeed, they took him out and changed his name. Ramadan carried on. Even though the prison authorities had already changed his name to Radan, they continued to press him to submit a written consent. Such extorted evidence was important for the regime for one and only reason: to serve as solid proof that the name changing was voluntary. From its inception in the early 1960s, the vŭzhroditelen protses was carried out clandestinely, and when information of the excesses against Muslims leaked into the public space, they were presented as a legitimate battle against extremists and traitors. In case this rationale failed to convince the Bulgarian people or the international community should the revival affair become known, the regime would be able to furnish the signed declaration as hard evidence of consent to the name changing.38 Ramadan, however, remained adamant in his determination not to yield to pressure and sign a document to change his name both in prison and outside.

3 Release and Re-imprisonment In his early forties when arrested, Ramadan was almost fifty when first dis- charged from prison. By that time, his sons had grown to young adulthood. While still in confinement, however, my interviewee learned that his eldest son had fled Bulgaria and made his way to Turkey. So after his release, Ramadan, his wife and two remaining sons, one of whom was doing military service, settled into a life of emotional uncertainty and economic hardship in Dolno Izvorovo. Even though he was a master stonemason and there was dire shortage of skilled laborers like him, Ramadan was not allowed to work. In a reality, where everything was state-owned and controlled by the communist party, he was denied even the most menial of jobs. Instead, he became the village’s cattle herder, where people collected money among themselves to pay his meager wage. But Ramadan was happy to be back with his family and even happier to know that his eldest son was building a life for himself in Istanbul. Then trouble struck again. Barely two or three years out of prison, Ramadan was arrested once more after his two remaining sons, two nieces, and other young people

38 Ramadan Runtov, interview; Ismail Byalkov, interview. This can also be inferred from archival documents at the Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv- Sofia, Fond 1, Inventories 38–40, Archival Units, passim (for details, refer to chapter three). A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 169 attempted to escape from Bulgaria, but were captured. Believing Ramadan to be the instigator of this venture, the regime detained him immediately. Unable to prove his involvement, the authorities plea-bargained: “You take the blame on yourself and we’ll release the two girls and your younger son?” Taking pity on the girls, who had never been separated from their families before, as well as considering his underage son, Ramadan accepted. “I agreed and they kept their promise.” Ramadan says: “They let the girls and my youngest son go free without charge.” The rest were sentenced to prison terms. Ramandan’s son, who had deserted the army, intending to cross the border, received a year and eight months. Ramadan was given three years, and all the rest were handed between a year and two months to two years of incarceration. Ramadan, now over fifty years old, spent two years and two months in the Sofia prison. He was immediately put in the seventh ward. It was a high security ward, with no work privileges. “Everybody else could work, but me.” Ramadan reminisces. “I lived through two and a half months of beating there.”

They were beating me with clubs. Every morning, when I’d go to the bathroom to wash myself and get some water, the guard at my door would hit me with a truncheon. As I’d walk in the bathroom, another one would strike me there. After returning to the cell, I’d be beaten one more time. This was every day. While most prisoners shared cells with five or six other inmates, I was locked alone. My cell was adjacent to those of death- row inmates. I was kept with the death-row inmates. And no matter how hard I tried to avoid the wardens’ clubs, I could not escape them. Morning, evening—beating! This lasted for two and a half months.

Having survived almost a decade of extreme prison abuse already, Ramadan weathered this second imprisonment with the same stoicism. He was released in 1982, after serving two years and two months of his original three-year prison sentence. In or out of prison, however, his life was a veritable inferno. While behind bars he endured beating on a daily basis, outside he had to report to the local police station day after day, wherein they locked him up for hours on end. This constant harassment was due to the fact that Ramadan persistently refused to accept a passport with a new Bulgarian name. Thus, he had no identity papers, and he could not work. Even though his name had already been changed in prison, he refused to accept a passport with the name Radan, which was strikingly similar to Ramadan. This was no coincidence. In their attempt to make the name changing appear as harmless as possible, the communist regime often opted for those Bulgarian names sounding closest to people’s 170 chapter 4 original names, perceived with somewhat neutral meaning. That was little consolation to most Pomaks, however, especially the likes of Ramadan who vividly remembered the last forced conversion and to whom a name was either Muslim or Christian, never in between; never neutral. Therefore, to accept a passport with Bulgarian name—any forced name—was tantamount to betrayal of faith and identity for Ramadan.39 Because his name was changed in prison, Ramadan’s passport picture was also taken there. When he was first imprisoned, the primary purpose of his solitary confinement, sleep deprivation, drastically reduced food rations, and routine torture was to induce a name changing with consent. As Ramadan refused to do so, verbally or in writing, the prison authorities simply proceeded to choose a name for him and issue new identification papers. For his new passport, however, they needed his photograph. One day, prison wardens came to his cell:

“Come with us.” “Why?” “The bosses need you.” They took me to a room, where a photographer was getting ready to take my picture—passport style. “Sit down.” I sat down. When he tried to take my picture, I jerked my head sideways. Two individuals immediately restrained my arms on each side. “Raise you head.” I did it. But as soon as the photographer prepared to snap the picture, I dropped it again. “We can’t photograph him like this.” They were angry but hesitant to beat me in front of the photographer, an outside civilian.

Ultimately, one of the guards grabbed Ramadan’s hair and pulling his head back, he instructed the photographer: “Shoot like this.” The person did so and Ramadan was returned to his cell. “I had barely sat down,” recalls my informant, “when they came back.”

“Get up. Out again. The photograph is faulty.” “I’m not coming out of here.” “Get out.” “No. You can get me out of here only dead.”

39 Ramadan Runtov, interview; Ismail Byalkov, interview. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 171

At length, they brought down the deputy prison chief, a bureaucrat by the name Zhelekov, to deal with Ramadan.

“Why don’t you comply with the orders?” “I don’t want to comply with such orders.” “Get out.” “No. Only dead will you get me out of here.” Then, he gave up: “Let him be. Don’t bother with him for now.” And I remained in my cell.

“Take the Passport or Die”

Ramadan was set free in 1982 after serving two separate terms of eight and three years respectively. His lot in life, however, was not about to get any better. Once Ramadan was out of prison, the harassment to accept the new passport resumed immediately. Every day the authorities summoned him to the police station trying to force him to take the passport, and every time he threw it to the ground, he spent the day in jail. Then, one day, a major from the militsia, for whom my informant had done masonry work in the past and who was very sympathetic to him, pleaded with Ramadan: “Please, take the damn passport and burn it, if you will, afterwards. Just take it and get out of here. They are planning to beat you to death tonight if you refuse again, and dump your body somewhere. You’ll die for nothing. You must take it. Take it now and do whatever you want with it later.” Having no reasons to distrust the officer, Ramadan realized that the regime had had it with him and would no longer waste time to silence him. When he walked out of the police station that day, he opened the new passport and realized for the first time why the photograph was “faulty.” It clearly showed a disembodied hand forcing Ramadan’s head up by pulling back his hair. The very next morning Ramadan wrote a long letter to Todor Zhivkov, Bulgaria’s long-term head of state and supreme leader of the communist party. In it, he poured the harrowing story of his life in prison: solitary confinement, torture, hunger, broken health, everything. Enclosing his new passport with the “faulty” photo as—what he believed to be—the indubitable testament to his ordeal, Ramadan concluded the letter with the following appeal: “Take a look at my passport picture and see the way it is taken! I plead with you to stop your subordinates from violating our honor for we are human beings, too.” Then, Ramadan placed the letter in an envelope and sent his son with it to Gabrovo, a neighboring town, to mail it from there. In Kazanlŭk, he was already a well-known “subversive element,” because of which, Ramadan was afraid, the 172 chapter 4 postal officials would refuse to mail his letter. From Garbrovo, however, they did. A week later, he received a reply from the Council of Ministers reading simply: “Your complaint has been received and will be considered.” Nothing more! Thereafter, Ramadan continued his anti-revivalism.

Conclusion

The last decade of communist rule in Bulgaria was a turbulent one. Having revived all Pomaks by the mid-1970s with remarkably few consequences, the regime abandoned all caution and moved against the ethnic Turks of Bulgaria a decade later. Unlike the Bulgarian-speaking Muslims, however, who had been recurrently targeted in the past based on nationalistic claims to their Bulgarianness, the Turkish-speaking Muslims were quite culturally distinct and numerous in comparison. Since the Turkish vŭzhroditelen protses is beyond the scope of this work and an event that has been well-documented already, it suffices to say here that it was imperative for the regime to assimilate the Turkish Muslims precisely because they were the largest (Muslim) minority within the prevalently Christian nation-state of Bulgaria (encompassing as much as one fifth of approximately seven-million-strong population). Thus, the regime proceeded to change the names of the ethnic Turks in full villain’s style—with troops, militiamen, and guns against unarmed civilian population, in much the same fashion as against the Pomaks, but on a mammoth scale. As news of the violence and bloodshed erupted, Turkey—“the mother country”—raised the alarm, generating an international uproar. Four years later, in November 1989, the communist regime in Bulgaria collapsed and the vŭzhroditelen protses was gradually reversed.40 Whereas the end of totalitarianism in the country came about in the context of the larger Soviet perestroika (political and economic reformation) and economic collapse across Eastern Europe, dissenters like Ramadan and their human network ultimately spread the news of the vŭzhroditelen protses and other atrocities taking place in Bulgaria. Ramadan met Iliya Minev, Petŭr Boyadzhiev, and Priest Blagoy Topusliev, three of the most eminent Bulgarian dissenters from the 1980s, in prison and befriended them. After Petŭr Boyadzhiev fled to France in the 1980s, Ramadan, his sons and a multitude of like-minded Bulgarians, both Muslim and Christian, set up lines of communication and secretly transmitted news about the vŭzhroditelen protses to

40 For details on the vŭzhroditelen protses against the ethnic Turks, see Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, passim. Also, refer to chapter three. A Pomak Life in Communist Bulgaria 173

Boyadzhiev in Marseille, France, who subsequently alerted Western media41 and journalists.42 By the spring of 1989, Bulgaria—as most of Eastern Europe—was rocked by massive demonstrations. People demanded freedom and the right to dignified existence. The nation’s Muslim community likewise protested though hunger strikes, petitions, and mass rallying to demand religious freedom and reversal of the vŭzhroditelen protses. As Ramadan and his sons continued to transmit news to Western Europe, they were detected and promptly arrested. Clinging to the last remnants of power and unable to do more, the regime rounded up the family, put them on a Vienna-bound train, and forced them out of the country with just 50 USD in cash, in total. Ramadan and his family joined the first group of 170 people collectively deported from Bulgaria on May 21, 1989. Three hundred fifty thousand Turkish and Pomak Muslims would follow suit within the next few months.43 May 21, 2007, when I interviewed Ramadan Runtov at his home in Istanbul, was the day of the eighteenth anniversary of his coming to Turkey. I did not think of it at the time, but after re-listening the interview, it struck me that neither had my informant shown awareness of it. This open-hearted man was more concerned with living a good life in the present than dwelling on the past in bitterness. Because it was his experiences that made him who he was—honorable, compassionate, and forgiving—Ramadan had nothing to regret. The life stories of exiles like Ramadan are not only an engaging narrative of dissent, but also an essential component of Pomak heritage. Being a direct concomitant of one of the pivotal episodes in the community’s existence—the vŭzhroditelen protses, Ramadan’s experience reflects a life pattern common to thousands of Pomak expatriates, still permanently living abroad. Even having achieved comfortable living for themselves in Istanbul (and elsewhere in Turkey), these Pomak émigrés maintain a strong connection with

41 Among the media transmitting on the vŭzhroditelen protses were BBC World Service, US-funded Radio Free Europe, and Deutsche Welle in Germany. 42 Petŭr Dobrev, “Bŭlgarskata 1989-a: Ivan ot Sliven i golemiat protest sreshtu komunizma,” News.bg, November 26, 2009; Elisaveta Kovacheva, “Bivshi polit-emigranti osporvat zaslugite na lidera na DPS,” Kontinent, August 10, 1992; Ramadan Runtov, interview. 43 Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, passim. Of the 350,000 Muslim refugees who left Bulgaria in 1989, about 150,000 returned by 1991, while 200,000 permanently settled abroad, mostly in Turkey (ibid., Eminov, 97). Subsequently, economically motivated exodus of Bulgarian citizens with Muslim religious affiliation continued to immigrate to Turkey well into 1994. Thousands of Pomaks, whom the regime had prohibited from leaving the country prior to November of 1989 when it collapsed, left Bulgaria for Turkey (and elsewhere) as well (see chapter three for details). 174 chapter 4 their home communities in the Rhodopes. They periodically return—many, every year—not only to visit with friends and family, but also to attend the funerals and marriages of loved ones. Most of the Pomak immigrants in Güneşli come from Kornitsa, Breznitsa, and Ribnovo, the three villages that put forth the strongest resistance to the vŭzhroditelen protses in 1973. Consequently, people from these villages left Bulgaria in the greatest numbers during and after 1989, the final year of communist rule. Those who remained in the Rhodopes, however, resolved to keep the Pomak heritage alive by reviving suppressed customs and making local traditions more visible than ever. One such tradition is the stunning Ribnovo wedding, detailed in the next chapter, whose most rec- ognizable manifestation today is the colorful mask of the bride. chapter 5 The Ribnovo Wedding: A Pomak Tradition

Introduction

The Western Rhodope landscape, sheltering the village of Ribnovo, encom- passes picturesque undulating hills sporadically covered with age-old trees, thick shrubs, tobacco and corn fields, or grassy patches that move in waves with every gust of the wind. For most of the year, the climate is pleasant, ranging from moderately cold in the winter to occasionally hot in the summer. The region harbors communities who still work the land for a living: largely small- scale tobacco farming for cash and fruit and vegetable growing for private con- sumption. Ribnovo is one of those agricultural communities. From early spring to late fall, from sunrise to sunset, the villagers are busy planting, chopping, picking, and processing the tobacco while simultaneously cultivating pota- toes, corn, and various fruits and vegetables on small patches of arable land. Come winter, however, there is time for respite and weddings. The Ribnovo wedding is, above all, an opportunity for public merrymaking whereby everyone in the community partakes either by being intimately associated with the family-and-friend circle or simply by dancing, observing, and gossiping as a member of the general village population. Only second to being a public celebration is the Ribnovo wedding an elaborate ritual, a vibrant tradition, saturated with colors and excitement. Almost invariably, the wedding festivities take place in the fall or winter, just after the farm work is completed. The Ribnovo wedding is a unique Pomak ritual surviving only in Ribnovo today as a living testimony to the richness of bygone traditions. The process of the wedding is an intricate historical blending of what is purely local understanding of life necessities and aesthetics—including in dress, in the purpose and way of celebration, as well as in the usefulness of the dowry—on one side, and the Islam-influenced belief system, on the other. Thus, the Ribnovo wedding, as most Pomak customs, is the result of an intensive interaction between three sets of elements: religious, linguistic, and ethno-cultural. As a Muslim community, the Pomaks are inextricably linked to the ethnic Turks with whom they shared the status of Ottoman Umma1 in the not-so-distant past of Bulgaria as an Ottoman domain. As a Slavic-speaking people, they are connected to the Bulgarian Eastern Orthodox Christian majority as well, which has caused

1 The totality of Muslim subjects of the Ottoman Empire.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��4 | doi ��.��63/9789004272088_��6 176 chapter 5 them to be singled out for religious and cultural assimilation on more than one occasion since Bulgaria’s independence of 1878.2 However, the relatedness to both Turks and Bulgarians via religion and language complicates the Pomaks’ status as an ethno-cultural minority. Although religion unites them, their different mother tongue also sets the Pomaks apart from the Turkish-speaking Muslims of Bulgaria. On the other hand, even though they share language with the Bulgarian majority, the Pomaks profess a religion that has been historically construed as the “enemy’s faith” by the predominantly Eastern Orthodox Christian Bulgarians. Thus, the Rhodopean Muslims have been placed in a precarious ethno-cultural position that simultaneously connects and distances them from the two dominant contenders for their identity within Bulgaria: the ethnic Turks and the ethnic Bulgarians. The lack of clear sense among most Pomaks as to just what ethnic group they belong, deepens the identity quag- mire they are pushed into by various external forces, assigning them identities not necessarily accepted by the community.3 Yet, those shaky grounds have been conducive to the development of a heritage that is uniquely Pomak— Rhodopean, local, typical of the Rhodope Muslims. The Ribnovo wedding is one of many exquisite expressions of Pomak culture that needs preservation. This chapter contributes to promoting, documenting, and preserving it as a Pomak heritage. The purpose of this chapter about the wedding tradition in Ribnovo is mul- tifold. First, I provide a step-by-step analysis of one truly remarkable ritual, as part of the Pomak culture, which is by no means unknown.4 This section of the

2 Detailed accounts of the assimilation of Pomaks in Bulgaria are provided in chapters two, three, and four. 3 Although I discuss this matter elsewhere in the book, I will briefly mention that the main contestants in the dispute over Pomak identity are Bulgaria, Turkey, and Greece. While Bulgaria puts forth linguistic arguments about the Bulgarian ethnicity of the Pomaks, Turkey points to shared religion as the main indicator of cultural identity. At the same time, because of the strategic location of the Rhodopes between northern Greece and southern Bulgaria, Greece insists that the Pomaks belong to the Greek ethnicity since they descend from ancient Thracian tribes that had been once Hellenized, subsequently Romanized, Slavicized, then Ottomanized, and finally Bulgarianized. In addition, both Bulgaria and Greece point to physical appearance—the predominance of fair skin and blue eyes among the Pomaks—as proof of the Pomaks’ Bulgarian and/or Greek origin. (Ali Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria, (New York: Routledge, 1997), 102 & passim.) 4 Because of the uniqueness of the bridal make-up, not only (Bulgarian) national- and international media have broadcasted the Ribnovo wedding, but also journalists, local interest groups, and individuals have broadly used Internet to publicized it via photographs, videos, or films. Among these media are bTV, a leading Bulgarian television, the Bulgarian National The Ribnovo Wedding 177 chapter includes two parts: an introduction of Ribnovo as a place and community the way I saw it during visits in 2004, 2009, and 2013, and a descriptive narrative of the traditional wedding rituals with special emphasis on the bride’s decoration and dowry (cheiz). Second, employing an approach advanced by the early twentieth-century Belgian anthropologist Arnold van Gennep, I analyze the wedding tradition as a major rite of passage.5 In accordance with van Gennep’s concept, as updated by Robert Ingpen and Philip Wilkinson,6 I analyze the Ribnovo wedding as a major turning point, not only in the lives of the individuals who marry, but also of their families and community. Through marriage, two people simultaneously undergo separation from the life of single individuals, make transition into the world of spousehood, and experience reincorporation (get reintroduced) into the village society as a family unit.7 This chapter also examines a truly unique wedding tradition that has all but disappeared outside of Ribnovo. What makes it even more special is that the wedding, in its full ritualistic splendor, occurs only rarely. Many young couples conduct their nuptials simply: without the intricate bridal décor so appeal- ing to outsiders; without the live music that accounts for most of the public entertainment; and without the processions, dowry display, or other trappings typical of the colorful Ribnovo wedding. When a marriage takes place in all its ritualistic manifestations, the splendor is complete. Ironically, the typical backdrop of all the flow of colors and excitement accompanying the festivities is the gray-autumn or white-winter landscape. The drabness of the cold- season setting, however, only enhances the vibrancy and appeal of the colorful Ribnovo wedding. Ultimately, this chapter examines the Ribnovo wedding in the context of claiming and preserving Pomak culture. First, because the wedding ritual, as practiced in Ribnovo, is unique, beautiful, and forgotten elsewhere in the Rhodopes, it naturally stands out as an important heritage attribute. Second, I can safely claim the Ribnovo wedding as a Pomak tradition, because the community itself identifies as Pomak. Moreover, there is evidence, surviving in oral testimonies and family photographs, that similar wedding rites had been widely practiced among the Pomaks of the Western Rhodopes as early as the 1940s and all the way until the 1970s. The Ribnovo wedding appears to be neither a new cultural invention, nor a borrowed tradition. The evidence

Radio (BNR), Reuters, as well as Internet sites such as Pomak.net, Ribnovo.com, YouTube, and others. 5 Arnold van Gennep, Rites of Passage (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1960), 10–11. 6 Read section, Marriage: A Major Turning-Point in Life, of this chapter. 7 Van Gennep, passim. 178 chapter 5 suggests that the phenomenon, as seen in Ribnovo today, is a remnant of a long-standing cultural custom once typical of and widely practiced by the Slavic-speaking Muslims of the Western (and of the whole of) Rhodopes. As the ritual went extinct once having been the cultural norm among the Rhodopean Muslims, this chapter describes and analyses the Ribnovo wedding with a view to its literary preservation as a unique manifestation of Pomak heritage.

Ribnovo: Place and People

Ribnovo, in the Western Rhodopes, is the last bastion of the traditional Pomak wedding, the most distinctive feature of which nowadays is the exquisite facial decoration of the bride. While in most other villages in the area, the tradition was swept away by the vŭzhroditelen protses,8 and has since disappeared, in Ribnovo it undergoes unusual revival and popularity. In fact, one can only discover genuine Pomak traditions and images in more remote villages like Ribnovo, which has shown a remarkable agility in keeping up with traditions. Ribnovo, as it is, standing isolated at the bottom of a mountainous road in the Bulgarian countryside—in the deep reaches of the Rhodope Mountains—harbors patriarchal values perhaps less affected by global uniformity than most other places in the region (Figure 5-1). I first visited Ribnovo in the fall of 2004 on a business-related trip, while I was still living and working in Bulgaria. Subsequently, I returned twice, once, in March of 2009 to conduct research and, again, in September of 2013 for a follow-up visit. Even though I have been to Ribnovo only three times, I know much about the way of life there—the social and economic environment, the people and general traditions—because I was born and grew up in the Western Rhodopes, barely an hour away from Ribnovo. In addition, I have worked and still actively communicate with many local people, including from Ribnovo, who have continuously rendered invaluable assistance to the present research. The closest city to Ribnovo is Gotse Delchev, about 25–30 kilometers away (approximately twenty miles). In order to get to Ribnovo from Gotse Delchev, in 2004, I had to take an old, beat-up, uncomfortable socialist-style bus, so different from the comfortable private buses in use today, and travel uphill along a one-lane, rugged asphalt road, perforated with potholes like Swiss cheese. After an hour of wobbling, shaking, meandering, crawling, and pausing in villages to deposit and accept a few passengers, the bus finally left me on a dirt road in the middle of a small settlement.

8 For a detailed account of the vŭzhroditelen protses, see chapters three and four. The Ribnovo Wedding 179

Figure 5-1 Ribnovo

This was Ribnovo. From where I stood, it looked like a cluster of houses seemingly sitting atop each other, because of the ascending, picturesque summits snuggling the village on all sides. The surrounding scenery of rolling hills covered with conifers and rocks was breathtaking. It was truly beautiful! In the crisp-clean morning air I breathed lightly and smiled for no apparent reason. The dirt road where I stood—a sort of main street—zigzagged in opposite directions from me, lined on both sides by rows of stone-and-brick houses. The houses did not strike me as luxurious then, but rather as large and solid edi- fices providing homes for the inhabitants. The faces of the people emanated warmth, friendliness, and curiosity all at once upon meeting my bemused glance. It was my first time in Ribnovo, but I was not nervous. I knew that the moment I spoke in one of the native Rhodopean dialects, any ice would break completely, on the spot. But non-natives are not strangers here, either. The villagers frequently encounter journalists, as well as all sorts of professional and amateur photo-researchers flocking to Ribnovo to catch a glimpse of the community’s unique lifestyle. All in all, lacking clear indication of malicious intent, any stranger would receive the same welcome as one from the area such as me. So, the locals are not the least surprised when an unfamiliar face shows up in Ribnovo and approaches them with questions, followed by the inevitable request to take a few pictures. Moreover, a timid visitor would most likely be aided by the people if he or she appears lost in some predicament. There are no hotels or rooms for rent in Ribnovo. Those seeking overnight accommo- dations would board in someone’s house either by preliminary arrangements 180 chapter 5 or simply as serendipitously invited guests, free of charge. According to traditional strong hospitality, no one should be refused shelter and meal, especially non-residents, for the locals all know each other and they can immediately tell a local from a guest. During my first visit in 2004, I stayed with a good friend of mine in the neighboring village of Ossikovo. I returned to Ribnovo in early 2009, accompanied by my brother in his old Opel Frontera. The Swiss-cheese road had been repaved, albeit still a one-lane affair. Although the village looked familiar, the houses gave an impression of more vibrancy and affluence. Most were now splashed in light pastel colors and boasted marble railing and ornamentation on the outside. The two of us parked on the same narrow public square, where the bus had left me almost five years earlier. This place marks the broadest part of Ribnovo’s main street and, in conjunction with the local schoolyard, serves as the main venue for public dancing—horo9—during weddings. Feim “Foxi” Osmanov, then a twenty-three-year-old student of the South western University in Blagoevgrad (Bulgaria), was supposed to meet me there. I did not know Foxi in person—at least not yet—but that is how one conducts one’s business in the Rhodopes. When need calls, one trusts people one has never met in person, almost never to be disappointed. The evening before I went to Ribnovo, I still did not know I was going. At that point, I had no one to rely on, for the people I knew—as it turned out—had all moved away or were otherwise unable to help. But as it always happens in the Rhodopes—completely coincidentally—that Friday evening some relatives of ours dropped by my parents’ home (in Vŭlkossel) and in the conversation I expressed the concern that my original plans to visit Ribnovo had failed. A cousin of mine, Dzepa, was among the visitors that evening. While mentioning that she had a classmate from Ribnovo, Dzepa pulled out her cell phone and called someone. The very next moment she handed me the phone and a short while later my trip to Ribnovo was arranged. On the next Saturday morning, a brown-haired young man of average build met me on the public square in Ribnovo. That was Foxi. He took my brother and me to his house, where I proceeded to conduct a four-hour group interview with Foxi, his mother, and his sister while watching a video of a traditional Ribnovo wedding. My original plan was to attend an actual event, based on the erroneous belief that all weddings in Ribnovo were the typical colorful affair. As it turned

9 This is a type of dancing where people hold hands to form a link that often curls into double or triple rings depending on the number of people dancing or space available. The musicians often play their instruments standing inside the ring(s) of dancers, while the crowds of spectators occupy the outer areas. The Ribnovo Wedding 181 out, there were plenty of weddings to be had during my time-frame in Bulgaria, but none was conducted in full ritual. At this point, I need to explain that, albeit all weddings take place in the time-honored tradition—most notably, not in the proverbial white gown of the bride, but in the colorful local attire (Figures 5-210 and 5-3), not all elements of the complex ritual such as the bridal mask, live music, procession, and others are always included. Some weddings are greatly simplified to reduce expenses.11 Even though I was unable to witness the full traditional wedding personally, the Osmanov family of Ribnovo, Kimile Ulanova of Ribnovo, the Gotse Delchev-based Safet Studio for moving images, as well as a bTV documentary walked me step-by-step through the Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo.12 Many other people have also become a valuable source of information—both verbal and visual—for this project.

Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo

When bTV, a leading television media in Bulgaria, broadcasted a thirty-minute documentary of a Ribnovo wedding in April of 2008, they named the film Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo. Indeed, “colorful” is perhaps the adjective that best describes the full-blown traditional Ribnovo wedding. Most everyone and everything—from the bride, through her make-up and cheiz (dowry), to young Ribnovo women (Figure 5-4)—emerge in bright, sparkling, astonishing dazzle of colors and sequins for two full days. On the other hand, “fairytale” is the noun that most truthfully captures the spirit of the wedding season for two fundamental reasons. First, it marks the time of respite from hard work in the fields, usually going on for most of the calendar year. Second, it presents the best opportunity for entertainment that the populace can get. A “fairytale” life for the community would, thus, be the time of weddings when the worries of the harvest season are left behind and everyone is making merry, dressed in their finest. The description

10 These are snapshots from video materials—including a wedding video of Kŭdrie and Feim’s wedding—kindly provided by Safet Studio, Gotse Delchev (Bulgaria). All snapshots from Kŭdrie and Feim Hatip’s wedding in this chapter are from the same material. 11 A wedding cost can absorb from eighty to a hundred percent of an average family’s annual income. Very often, the overall expenses may be fully compensated or even exceeded by the amount received in the form of wedding gifts, but that is not generally the case. The cost of the bride’s cheiz (dowry) and the building of a new house for the newlyweds can be really costly for the couple’s families. 12 A bTV documentary. bTV is a leading television media in Bulgaria (below). 182 chapter 5

Figure 5-2 Kŭdrie and Feim Hatip from Ribnovo as Bride and Groom in February 2005.

Figure 5-3 A Happy Bride. The bride Kŭdrie as she appeared on one of the days of her wedding. She is posing for the shot in front of her dowry. The Ribnovo Wedding 183

Figure 5-4 Young Women Hold Gifts at Kŭdrie and Feim’s Wedding. of the Ribnovo wedding as a “colorful fairytale” acquires even greater significance, because the community itself, in the person of one female observer, puts it forward before the bTV reporters:

You haven’t seen anything as colorful as this and you’re fascinated! It’s like from another world to you. It’s like a fairytale really: it comes and goes. The wedding comes and goes, then, life continues as usual [italics added].13

Life on the semi-mechanized farms in Ribnovo, and throughout the Western Rhodopes, is not an easy one. While only plowing and partial hauling of the produce (tobacco, vegetables, and other) is done by tractors and other motor- ized machinery, almost everything else is manually handled. Apparently, factors like the relatively small size of the average farm (about fifty acres) and the difficult terrain of the Rhodope Mountains, allowing only for small and disconnected parcels of land to be cultivated, limit the cost-effectiveness of

13 bTV, Sharena Prikazka Ribnovo. Broadcasted on April 6, 2008, in the “bTV Reporterite” show. 184 chapter 5

Figure 5-5 The Wedding Begins. The Ribnovo wedding begins . . . with the groom’s (Feim) brother leading the musicians to Feim’s house.

mechanization. Once plowing takes place in the fall and/or early spring, the intensive work continues all through the spring, summer, and fall whereupon crops are planted, grown, picked, processed, and readied for sale. Cultivating the tobacco—the standard cash crop of the Western Rhodopes—usually occu- pies the time from February–March to October–November when the process starts with germinating the tobacco seeds. After that, the tobacco gets trans- planted, repeatedly chopped and picked in stages, sun-dried and arranged in bales, ready to be sold. Baling begins with the autumn rain which softens the desiccated tobacco leaves and makes them amenable to manipulation. This work often continues well into the winter, but it is not as time- and labor- consuming as the rest of tobacco farming is. The cold season, albeit still demanding, remains more relaxed compared to the rest of the year and, thus, conducive to entertainment. This is the time of the Ribnovo wedding. On a chilly morning, when the village awakens to the languid sound of woodwinds and drums, the wedding has begun. Usually, the typical colorful event lasts two days. This is very much in keeping with the past when wedding festivities went on for days. Nowadays, the cheiz, or everything that the bride The Ribnovo Wedding 185

Figure 5-6 Live Music. Accompanied by musicians, the groom’s family brings the gifts prepared for the bride and her relatives to her parents’ house on the second day of the festivities and the groom takes his bride home. Behind them are two other bayraks with fabrics and clothes respectively. All these gifts will go to the bride and her family. will bring to her husband’s house, is exhibited during the first day of the wedding, normally a Saturday. In the evening on the same day, the bride’s hands are decorated with henna, forming delicate garnet coloration in various patterns. The Ribnovo wedding is largely a public event. Apart from the few private aspects of it, including the bridal decoration and the dowry arrangement, the entire village participates in the wedding one way or another. One very important occurrence is that no formal wedding invitations exist. Members of the community simply decide to attend the reception as relatives, friends, age- mates, neighbors, or in whatever other capacity. Weddings across the Western Rhodopes are generally open to the community at large, thus, being planned for a sizeable number of people. The Ribnovo community, particularly the womenfolk, partakes in the first-day festivities mostly by scrutinizing the cheiz and dancing horo on the public square or another venue in the village suitable for large congregations. The wedding is a special invitation to merrymaking for both unmarried and married people in Ribnovo. For the former, it largely means an opportunity to find a potential spouse, while for the latter—to get 186 chapter 5 some entertainment before the farm work resumes. The first day of the Ribnovo wedding is also a day when only the groom feasts with his family, relatives, and friends. The bride’s side of the family does the feasting on the next day. The expenses are incurred by the parents of both bride and groom for their own guests respectively. The wedding guests, on their part, bring gifts in the form of food, money, and various household items. The young couple must be present during both receptions to formally accept the gifts and congratulations. On the second day of the wedding, normally a Sunday, the groom’s side of the family prepares the so-called bayraks (Figure 5-7). Typically, these are “T”-shaped wooden constructions of various sizes, suspended from which are all the gifts the groom has prepared for his wife-to-be and in-laws. Usually, the gifts include articles of clothing and paper money. The groom’s relatives carry the bayraks, as well as other gifts, to the bride’s house accompanied by live music and a throng of participants and curious spectators. At the head of the procession is a close relative (a brother or cousin) of the groom who carries a (blue) flag—symbol of hospitality—topped with a bouquet of evergreens and money. When the slow-moving procession finally arrives at the gates of the bride’s home, they will have to face a small party of young men—bride’s relatives—blocking the entrance. As tradition requires, the groom’s family

Figure 5-7 Kŭrdie’s Father Lifts the Bayrak with One Hand and Drops a Bill to the Bearer with the Other. The Ribnovo Wedding 187

Figure 5–8: Kŭdrie’s Mother and Father Carefully Assist Her Out on the Way to Her New Life as a Wife.

Figure 5-8 Kŭdrie’s Mother and Father Carefully Assist Her Out on the Way to Her New Life as a Wife. literally buys their way in by handing the youngsters some cash in return for being let in. Failing to be generous could entail a considerable social embarrassment, so grooms (or their parents), who do not wish to be labeled “tight- wads,” prepare the cash in advance and in abundant quantity. Gaining access to the bride also has a vital symbolic significance at this point since the groom has essentially arrived to take his bride home. Once the groom’s procession is past the gate barrier, they pass the bayraks on to the parents of the bride. This time around, it is the bride’s family’s turn to pay for accessing the gifts in the same way. A male relative—normally the father or older brother of the bride—hands out some small change to each bayrak-bearer, thereafter, taking possession of the gift. After the cash-bayrak exchange, along with pausing for photographs, it is time for the bride’s parents to bid farewell to their daughter and ritualistically surrender her to the in-laws. The groom and his family will take the bride to her new home for the first time. She now wears the elaborate mask which prevents her from opening her eyes or lips. The bride walks out of her parent’s home silently and blindly, gently assisted by her mother and father or other family members along the way (Figure 5-8). 188 chapter 5

Figure 5-9 Kŭdrie Wearing Full Bridal Make-up.

While wearing the make-up, she keeps her eyes shut and carries a mirror before her. Tradition requires that she does not look back—she can only look in the mirror, if at all—at her girlhood home, because it is considered a bad omen for the stability of her future life as wife and mother. On a more mundane level, the purpose of the mirror is a very practical one: to help the bride navigate her way forward since her gaze is inevitably obstructed by the heavy sequin make- up applied on her eyelids as well (Figure 5-9). It is not clear how the tradition of decorating the bride with sequins and tinsel started. But a clue to the mask’s possible purpose may be found in a comment by Dr. Margarita Karamikhova, ethnographer at the Bulgarian Academy of Science:

All we know about this proverbial colorful bride—as you put it—is that it is some type of decoration that replaces the bride’s veil, which also signi- fies a clear transition in status [of the bride, from girlhood to matrimony]. This means that you change your appearance: disappear in the dark, covered one way or another, including by veil or garment. Then, when the [wedding] ritual is over, you reemerge in a new status [of a married The Ribnovo Wedding 189

woman], including by change in appearance.* As yet, however, none of us [scholars] can tell when and how this tradition came about.14

* [For instance, married women in Ribnovo are usually less adorned and wear more mundane clothing than girls.]

Regarding bridal veiling, Arnold van Gennep makes an interesting reference to the ancient Greek philosopher Plutarch who once rhetorically remarked: “Why do people veil their heads when worshiping the gods? . . . The answer is simple: [They do that] to separate themselves from the profane [secular] and to live in the sacred [religious] world.”15 In similar line of reasoning, one might interpret the elaborate “veiling” of the Ribnovo bride as a symbol of her separation from the world of adolescence and girlhood and permanent incorporation into the world of wifehood and potential parenthood. The physical act of bridal veiling may be a temporary—rather than permanent—condition, Arnold van Gennep says, but when the veil falls, it permanently shuts one door and opens another one that leads to the next stage of the bride’s life: the world of family responsibilities.16 Despite the uncertainty as to origins, however, the tradition of bridal decoration is not a new invention. Oral and photographic evidence suggests that the ritual was thriving in the (Western) Rhodopes during the early twentieth century, but completely disappeared by the mid-1970s, when the vŭzhroditelen protses uprooted it. Indeed, Margarita Karamikhova’s submission that the bridal mask is a sort of veil replacement appears to be correct. According to the oral testimony of Vassilka Alimanska, a (Bulgarian Christian) school teacher in the village of Debren, the Western Rhodopes (near Ribnovo) during the 1930s and 1940s, the following was typical of Pomak weddings:

Weddings in those days went on for weeks. The bride used to be covered with red veil. That’s the way the brides were done until 1944 [a dual year of

14 Ibid., bTV documentary. 15 In his book, The Rites of Passage, Arnold van Gennep places great importance on the distinction between the concepts of the sacred and the profane while analyzing the rites of passage. In a nutshell, unlike other cultural scholars of his time, Gennep does not see religion as the underlying force of all ceremonies in a given societies. Instead, he holds that the sacred is not an absolute value, but one that is relative to the situation. However, since this distinction does not have a major bearing on this chapter, I have altogether excluded it from discussion (van Gennep, 168). 16 Van Gennep, 168. 190 chapter 5

Figure 5-10 Bride Nadzhie Ulanova, Soon-to-be-Chavdarova, Fully Clad in the Traditional Way, 2009. (Courtesy of Kimile Ulanova) The Ribnovo Wedding 191

the latest Pomak pokrŭstvane and communist takeover in Bulgaria]. On the forehead, in the form of wreath, multicolored sequins were arranged. I loved going to these weddings and looking at the brides for hours. The brides’ adornment existed until 1975 [the year the vŭzhroditelen protses among the Pomaks was finalized], but without the veil: dressed in purple shalvars [broad trousers], sequined aprons, and embroidered tyulbens [headscarves]. During wedding, the women of the family and the neighborhood would prepare pastries and go to see the bride.17

This testimony very precisely points at the reason and timeframe of change and disappearance, first, of the bridal veiling, and, then, of the decorative mask. Apparently, the veil—an integral part of Muslim women’s attire in Ottoman times (roughly 1400 to 1900)—was still worn by at least some Pomak women until the 1940s. Veiling certainly appears to have been a part of the bridal attire. However, Bulgaria’s persistent attempts to assimilate the Pomaks, including by suppressing their traditional attire, resulted in the disappearance of veiling by the early 1940s.18 By 1975, when the renaming of all Pomaks happened, the last remnants of a range of cultural traditions peculiar to the community—notably, the bridal decoration—had died out as well. Another testimony from the village of Breznitsa (the Western Rhodopes) not only provides further details about the tradition of decorating the bride earlier in the twentieth century, but also alludes to its common practice throughout the Western Rhodopes:

The most interesting was the decoration of the [bride’s] face and head. A specially commissioned woman would come to decorate the bride: the face would be thickly covered with belilo [literally, whitener, i.e., cos- metic crème], the eyebrows would be blackened, and two circles would be drawn on the cheeks with lipstick. Then, the sequins and especially made rhomboid shapes cut out of colored foil would be arranged on the

17 Anastasiya Pashova et al., Semeystvo, Religiya, Vsekindevie na Myusyulmanite v Zapadnite Rodopi (Sofia, Bulgaria: IK Sema RSH, 2002), 79–80. Memories of Vassilka Alimanska, school teacher in the village of Debren, Western Rhodopes, from the 1930s and 1940s. 18 The first comprehensive pokrŭstvane happened during the 1912–1913 Balkan Wars (see chapter two), followed by partial attempts at Pomak Christianization in the 1930s and 1940s. After the communists’ takeover in 1944–1945, the assimilation culminated in the 1972–1974 vŭzhroditelen protses, which put an end to all remnants of the bridal masking tradition in the (Western) Rhodopes. The eradication of veiling and fezzing as part of the Muslim dress was an objective already achieved in pre-communist Bulgaria. 192 chapter 5

face. A small cap would be placed on the head, the visible side of which was decorated with various bead strings and small gold coins suspended from the cap’s top. A white veil would then be placed over the cap, on top of which came [sheer] red or blue veil floating freely on both side of the face. Her [the bride’s] hands were painted with henna. The bride would then place her hands on her belly with one palm resting atop the other. Henna covered her hands because she did not wear apron [to place them under]. Then she would be shown out from the balcony—givya- ing, [i.e.,] not looking or talking at all—to a crowd of onlookers that had come especially to see her.

The quote continues:

When the bride walked out of her parental home, her eldest brother would cover her with the ferezhe [outer cover garment], because from then on she was a married woman and the ferezhe would become part of her attire. Her mother would place three kernels of corn wrapped in kerchief under her right arm so that she could bring the nafaka [good fortune] into her new home. Her face and head would be covered with red fabric called duvak. While she was coming down the stairs, her father would sprinkle her with oat grains and small candy, sifted through a col- ander which he would be turning to the exit door. Once in the groom’s house, . . . he [the groom] would come down and uncover her face. Here, she would sit down on the bed to givey [sit motionless and speechless] again till sundown. In the evening, the hodzha [hoca, Muslim cleric] would arrive to marry the couple.19

Photographic evidence, on the other hand, also testifies that similar rituals of bridal masking and (tinsel) veiling existed throughout the Western Rhodopes all the way to the mid-1970s, when most Pomak traditions were altogether dis- couraged as a part of the communist regime’s sustained effort to assimilate the community. This and other photographic evidence represent a sampling of villages from across the Western Rdodopes—from Ribnovo, through Vŭlkossel, to Yakoruda. In Vŭlkossel, for example, every family album from the late 1960s and early 1970s contains pictures where a grandmother, great aunt, or other female rela-

19 Pashova et al., 80–81. The authors quote the book Breznitsa—Minalo, pesni i traditsii (Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria: 2002). The Ribnovo Wedding 193

Figure 5-11 Sanie and Mehmed Myuhtar. As bride and groom in 1972, Vŭlkossel, the Western Rhodopes (the author’s parents). The bride is decorated with colored sequins arranged in floral patterns, but without the cakey belilo on the face. Instead, an egg white is used to secure the sequins in place. (The Myuhtar Family Album. Wedding photograph of the author’s parents, Vŭlkossel, January 1972) tive is elaborately decorated. My mother (Figure 5-11) wore her own sequined mask on a cold January day of 1972, when she was a young bride of eighteen. The portrait of her and my father on their wedding day has hung on the wall of my parents’ house for as long as I can remember. As a result of the questions it prompted me to ask, I came to understand early on that brides no longer looked the same way because the communist regime would not allow it (although I did not understand why). When, years later, my research enabled me to look deeper into the Pomak community’s culture, I discovered that nearly all of my female relatives or neighbors that were brides in the same time period (this was the time when taking one’s picture became more broadly available and trendy) were decorated. Figures 5-13 through 5-16 show Vŭlkossel brides who are dressed and decorated in nearly identical fashion. Whereas the wedding attire is merely an upgraded version of what a woman would usually wear, the 194 chapter 5

Figure 5-12 Wedding of Fatme Aguleva of Kornitsa, the Western Rhodopes, 1967. While the bride is certainly decorated, it cannot be established to what degree, mainly because of the tinsel veiling over her face. (The Cesur Family Album)

Figure 5-13 Wedding Photograph Atie Hadzhieva of Vŭlkossel, 1971. The bride Atie is decorated in a slightly different fashion than the typical belilo- based, lipstick-circle centered bridal make-up (below). With no crème foundation, the facial adornment forms branches and leaves rather than flower petals emanating from a red midpoint. (The Hadzhiev Family Album) The Ribnovo Wedding 195

Figure 5-14 Wedding of Atidzhe and Mustafa Chavdarov of Vŭlkossel, 1972. The bride Atidzhe, with husband Mustafa and relatives, decorated in the—more or less—traditional style: sequins arranged around two large red cores on both cheeks, as well as two spread-out floral patterns on the chin and forehead respectively. The bride has no belilo foundation. Most probably, the sequins were applied onto the bride’s face with an egg white or another natural glue substance. (The Chavdarov Family Album) 196 chapter 5

Figure 5-15 Wedding of Sadbera and Izir Chavdarov of Vŭlkossel, 1968. (The Chavdarov Family Album) The Ribnovo Wedding 197

Figure 5-16 Wedding of Nadzhibe and Natŭk Dermendzhiev of Vŭlkossel, Early 1970s. (The Dermendzhiev Family Album) 198 chapter 5 decoration and veil clearly marked the bride. A bride was always decorated to distinguish her from other, similarly dressed women on her wedding day. Thus, just as the Ribnovo bride today dons her wedding mask—only much more ornate and colorful—so did Pomak women across the (Western) Rhodopes as late as 1972–1973, before the vŭzhroditelen protses took full effect. As the available evidence indicates, the process of decorating the bride in Ribnovo today appears to be uniform with the past. The belilo, or thick cos- metic crème, remains the primary foundation for the elaborate mask, even though the decorative pieces are now conveniently replaced by industrially manufactured sequins, Rhine stones, beading, and tinsel. The modern Ribnovo bride is always prepared by women who have a great deal of know-how regarding bridal adornment. The decoration involves the following process: The bride’s face is thickly covered with belilo. Using a lipstick, usually red, the decorator marks several red spots on strategic points of the bride’s face, usually two larger spots on each side and two smaller ones on the forehead and chin. Shiny, colorful sequins are then carefully arranged around the red “cores”—directly over the belilo—into stylized floral patterns. As a final step, the decorator com- pletes the make-up by tracing the bride’s lips and darkening her eyebrows with lipstick and eye liner respectively. After some finishing touches and last- minute corrections, the make-up is ready. Now the bride’s face is essentially a mask that she has to preserve intact for up to several hours. She does that by keeping an expressionless face. Once the facial adornment is done, the bride arranges her attire with the help of other women. She is partially dressed in her bridal clothing when the facial adornment is applied. Afterwards, she puts on some warmer top garments and veil. The outer layer of the garment consists of (1) a highly ornate bodice that clasps at the waist line below the chests, (2) an apron, usually hand-woven of bright treads, and (3) a thin black cloak, ferezhe, customarily worn by married women in the community (Figure 5-10). In the past, the decoration of the bride took place in strict privacy, only in a very narrow family circle. Although it remains a largely intimate ritual, those especially interested, including journalists and researchers, may negotiate access to it with the family. Once the heavy facial make-up is applied, the bride can no longer talk or hold her eyes opened. As a result, it has become traditional for the bride to keep silent lips and closed eyes to preserve the intricate mask which must remain intact from midday to nightfall on the second day of the wedding. Karamikhova (above) contemplates the importance of being silent for the bride on the day she parts with girlhood to become a wife:

The bride is the center of attention that day without touting her presence. She is quiet. This is her biggest day. After that, the whole world would fall The Ribnovo Wedding 199

on her shoulders: the world of children; of life without a husband, for he would probably be far away—abroad—earning a living. Perhaps this solitude is good for her. She has the day to herself—to think about all she is giving up [as a single woman] and receiving in return. That’s why, perhaps, this decoration—like a mask—is beautiful! Because it hides her emotions! It helps her keep them to herself.20

When the bride walks out of her parental home, she pauses to present her in- laws with gifts, prepared in advance as part of her dowry. To show respect and acceptance of her mother- and father-in-law as her new family, she ritually kisses their hands. “When the gelina [bride] comes out,” says the bTV bride’s sister-in-law, “she presents us—the nearest [groom’s] relatives—with gifts. And now we will take her home. We will collect her dowry and bring her with us. There, the groom will remove her make-up and . . . that’s it.”21 The two day-wedding ritual culminates into the couple’s becoming a husband and wife at the end of the second day. This means that the bride and groom will be intimate for the first time that night. In fact, in Ribnovo, only a girl that goes chaste to her husband’s house can become a bride or gelina. If a girl elopes before being married in the traditional way, she cannot be gelina in the strictly ritualistic sense. While most young people marry with their parents’ consent, sometimes eloping occurs where the girl- or boy’s parents disapprove of their son- or daughter’s choice of partner. Once the young couple has eloped, however, the parents have to accept the situation. In this case, the girl joins her husband’s household only after a mundane civil and/or religious marriage. But there is no traditional wedding ritual to celebrate the occasion.

The Cheiz

Like the mask, the dowry is an important attribute of the vibrant Ribnovo wedding. Tradition requires that the groom’s family provides a dwelling for the newlyweds, while furnishing the new home is the responsibility of the bride’s parents (as far as their means allow). Thus, the cheiz includes everything that is deemed necessary for establishing a new household. While the volume, variety, and value vary from bride to bride depending on her family’s means, common dowry items include articles of clothing and fabrics, rugs, bedspreads, pillows, towels, furniture, and kitchen appliances. Referencing the Safer Studio

20 bTV documentary (above). 21 Ibid. 200 chapter 5

Figure 5-17 Cheiz Display. This photograph, which I took at a random wedding in Ribnovo in 2009 (during which the bride was not decorated), shows a living-room and bedroom sets, rugs, bedspreads, curtains, tablecloths, decorative pillows, and various knits and fabrics exhibited for public scrutiny. Among the items in an average dowry usually are television sets, refrigerators, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, microwave ovens and other household and electronic utensils. The reason some of those items may be missing in this case could be the rain that day where bulkier and more sensitive electronic articles were kept dry, indoors. More textile dowry is displayed on the balcony of the house to which the bride probably belongs (her parents’ home). The observing crowd is small on occasion of the rain and the lack of live music during this particular wedding. video material, Kŭdrie’s dowry contains bedding, bedroom furniture, carpets, curtains, appliances, dishware, glassware, living-room furniture, a television and other electronics. It is a tradition in Ribnovo to display the bride’s dowry on special lumber constructions placed along the street in front of the bride’s parental house so that everyone could see it. Although the colors are rich and the composi- tion seemingly chaotic, the overall arrangement pleases the eyes. This should come as no surprise since the women of the bride’s household execute the arrangement with a great deal of fuss and attention to details. They are painfully aware that their work will be scrutinized by the entire female community The Ribnovo Wedding 201 of Ribnovo and beyond. That is why, early on the first day of the wedding, the bride’s family works busily. The men erect timber frames and help with moving the heavier items, while the women arrange the cheiz according to their own rules of harmony and proportion. The most immediate practical rule is to move from the largest to the smallest article in the process of arrangement. Thus, the women place the largest rugs, carpets and covers on the frames first. Onto those they affix the smaller tablecloths, fabrics, pillow cases, and suchlike, with the tiniest and most decorative units resting atop everything else. The furniture and kitchen utensils are displayed separately. Overall, the more colorful the ensemble, the more beautiful it is perceived to be. Once the cheiz is exhibited, crowds of spectators—mostly women—gather to observe and trade comments (Figure 5-17).

The Essence of the Ribnovo Wedding

Life in the course of the wedding is simultaneously intimate, communal, hec- tic, vivacious, exhausting, exciting, disappointing, gloomy, hopeful, concilia- tory, bountiful, and gossipy. It is in this web of complex emotions, reflective of the conservative-patriarchal social and cultural environment of the community that the essence of the Ribnovo wedding emerges. The wedding has several essential components. First, the wedding is primarily a family affair. It is the family of the bride, the groom, or both together that organize the event, bear the cost of it, actively participate in it, and altogether make the wedding possible. Moreover, marriage brings people together not only during the preparation and celebration of the tradition, but also for life by creating ties between families and communities. Second, communal feasting is a vital factor in the wedding. In Ribnovo, each of the newlyweds’ families invites their relatives and friends to a banquet to celebrate their son or daughter’s marriage. Interestingly enough, however, the families feast separately. The groom’s side gathers for an afternoon meal, gift-giving, and dancing on the first day of the festivities at a local restaurant or eatery especially booked for the occasion. The bride’s side does the same on the following day, or vice versa. Overall, it is more traditional in the Western Rhodopes for the groom’s family to pay all reception expenses, while the bride’s parents provide the dowry. However, since a wedding can be very costly, sharing expenses is important. The solution to a financial predicament in Ribnovo is ingenious: detached feasting and half the cost per family. Third, the wedding is an important community celebration. In Ribnovo, not only the extended family, but also the entire community of neighbors turns out at the wedding festivities for socializing and good cheer. Not only 202 chapter 5 is the full, traditional Ribnovo wedding a grand occasion for everybody to be entertained, but it is often the only occasion, particularly for women. There are no bar clubs or discothèques in Ribnovo. Although there are plenty of cafés to congregate in and chat with friends, these are largely the domain of men. In this conservative social milieu, eligible bachelors and bachelorettes meet on the street, before everybody’s eyes. Young people in Ribnovo date while partak- ing in the so-called dvizhenie (promenading) during which girls—in groups of two, three, or more—stroll back and forth along the main street of the village so that (potential) boyfriends could meet and talk with them. The dvizhenie usually continues until dusk. It is particularly dynamic during the wedding season, when farm work is at a standstill. Fourth, the wedding is an arena for enacting socio-cultural norms. In Ribnovo, although both men and women are expected to live up to rigorous social norms of moral integrity and connubial truthfulness—norms influenced by Islam—a husband’s indiscretion is less likely to break a marriage than a wife’s one. It would be a matter of personal honor for a man to divorce an unfaithful wife and one of social survival for a woman to stay in a disloyal union. The type of class-related antagonism, markedly observable in more urban societies, is less pronounced in Ribnovo since most people share the more-or-less egalitarian status of small farmers. It is paramount for the young people of Ribnovo to marry within their village community where they feel most comfortable. This is especially true for women who rarely marry outside Ribnovo. To wed someone from the village is more prestigious than marrying outside. Those who choose a non-Ribnovo husband, after all, do it either for love or because they cannot find a suitable match in their home community.22 Ultimately, however, what is important to the people in Ribnovo is not merely keeping with rigid social norms, but preserving the world they know the way they know it through observing the norms. Life in a familiar and controlled environment is secure and predictable, while life beyond people’s reach is foreign, frightful, and unwanted. In Ribnovo, not only will parents suffer the undesired partner of choice of their offspring, but they will take steps to prepare for the wedding, usually by incurring the cost of it. As long as the integrity of the family and community is ensured and life goes on as usual, every union—even an initially deplored one—will come to be accepted and even celebrated via the wedding ritual. Thus, the custom of marriage emerges as a vital act of—and even quest for—preserving the status quo in the community both: (1) by ensuring smooth transition from singlehood to marriage for two young individuals and (2) by averting a crisis that may arise out of opposition to a perceived bad match. In other words, the wedding ritual

22 The Osmanov Family (Feim, Fatme and their mother), interview by author, Ribnovo, Bulgaria, March 7, 2009. The Ribnovo Wedding 203 rises as a flag of celebration when a marriage is desired and as a white banner of surrender when it is not so, all for the purpose of averting crisis and keeping family affairs going.

Marriage: “The Key Turning Point in . . . Adult Life”23

Marriage is a cornerstone in two people’s lives, as well as the lives of their families and communities. According to Arnold van Gennep,24 responsible for first systematizing the rites of passage in the social sciences, marriage is one of the major rites of passage in human existence together with childbirth, coming of age, and death.25 Expanding on van Gennep’s proposition, Robert Ingpen and Philip Wilkinson write:

Birth, coming of age, marriage, death. Whoever we are and wherever we live, we cannot avoid these great climaxes and crises of life. People need to ease these changes in a number of ways. And a change of status needs to be made known to the community. Rituals to signal and mark these key life changes—rites of passage, as they are called—occur in all human societies and they seem to fulfill a basic human need.26

As the authors contend, all humans experience major life changes—“crises of life”—during marriage, the birth of a child, puberty, or the death of a loved one. Once those changes take place, the person(s) affected re-enter society in a new role, status, or position as husbands or wives, mothers or fathers, widows or widowers, and so on. People feel the need to go through these life changes as close to their normal routine as possible under the circumstances of crises. As a result, the community performs rituals to help smooth the transition of any given members from their old to their new status, as well as to announce the change to society at large. Thus, principal rituals such as weddings are designed not only to mark a major change in the lives of two people, but also to facilitate their transition from the world of singlehood to matrimony and to ensure their successful reintroduction into society as a family unit.

23 Robert Ingpen and Philip Wilkinson, A Celebration of Customs and Rituals of the World (New York: Facts on File, Inc., 1996), 77–78. 24 Van Gennep is a Belgian anthropologist and folklorist who became influential with his concept of the rites of passage in cultural theory at the turn of the twentieth century. 25 Van Gennep, passim. 26 Wilkinson and Ingpen, 43. 204 chapter 5

In 1908, when van Gennep’s Les Rites de Passage first appeared, no classification of rites existed.27 Published initially in French, his theories languished in semi-obscurity for over fifty years. With the release of an English edition in the 1960s, van Gennep’s rites-of-passage classification and the concept of schema (meaning pattern, process, structure, and/or dynamic) have become recognized contributions to anthropology and social theory in general. In a nutshell, van Gennep defines the customs and rituals that mark major disruptions in the life of an individual or group as rites of passage. The basic schéma of these rites of passage incorporates three stages: a) separation (séparation), b) transition (marge), and c) incorporation (agrégation).28 Clarifying on the concept of the schéma, van Gennep says:

Rites of separation are prominent in funeral ceremonies, rites of incorporation at marriages. Transition rites may play an important part, for instance, in pregnancy, betrothal, and adoption, in the delivery of a second child, in remarriage, or in the passage from the second to the third age group.29

Based on van Gennep’s overall notion of schema, one can generalize defini- tions of separation, transition, and reincorporation that apply to all major rites of passage, including marriage. Separation occurs not only at death, but generally when a person parts with his or her present social role to accept a new one. Thus, the rites of marriage and (first) childbirth can also be interpreted as rites of separation since, in the first instance, two people part with singlehood to re-emerge as a family unit and, in the second instance, they separate from the status of non-parenthood to join that of parenthood. Transition is the period of adjustment to a new role, status, or position a person has acquired in society. As Wilkinson and Ingpen indicate, transition often manifests itself by physical and social transformations30 such as those accompanying a woman’s motherhood or an individual’s puberty when some exterior features change and social responsibilities grow. Re-incorporation happens when an individual is successfully reintegrated into society in his or her new status. In marriage, two former single persons would have successfully re-entered society as a unit after establishing a family, and potentially raising healthy children. In all three stages separation, transition, and re-incorporation, customs and rituals help

27 In the introduction to The Rites of Passage (above) by Solon S. Kimbali (van Gennep, xxv). 28 Kimbali, in van Gennep, vii. 29 Van Gennep, 11. 30 Ingpen and Wilkinson, 43. The Ribnovo Wedding 205 ease the stress on people as they undergo “life crises” and re-establish themselves as productive members of society. The Ribnovo marriage, too, qualifies for a “life crisis,” defined by its own phases of separation, transition, and re-incorporation. Whereas, for the purposes of this chapter, the wedding day(s) is the culmination of the marriage rite, there is a long period of preparation for marriage that precedes the wedding and another, shorter period of adjustment (transition before permanent incorporation) to marriage that follows the wedding. Young Ribnovo girls grow knowing that they will marry and move to their future husband’s house some- day. Thus, a girl in Ribnovo (as in many other Pomak villages in the Rhodopes) is helping prepare her cheiz, often for years, before she actually marries. This usually happens by her saving money for furniture, kitchen appliances, or clothing, or by knitting, embroidering, crocheting, and sewing garments or household articles. Ribnovo girls could be engaged in cheiz-preparing activities since the age of twelve or thirteen, if not younger. Another important aspect of the pre-marriage period is the courtship between a girl and a boy. While some young couples that may end up being married could have a courtship lasting for years, others have relatively brief rela- tionships. Certainly, a young married couple—if both from Ribnovo—would know each other and one another’s families prior to marriage since Pomak villages are usually very tight-knit, especially Ribnovo. Because of this familiarity, the relatives of both young people would generally be very involved in the process of courtship and marriage. Indirectly, family members could offer advice or express opinion about a potential match, and, more directly, they could cause or prevent marriage itself. In fact, the godezh (engagement), shortly preceding the wedding, is entirely directed by the family. Once a romance is budding, a boy’s family member(s) approach the prospective bride’s family to formally ask for her hand in marriage. In a series of visits following on both sides, arrangements are made and plans are set in motion for a wedding. After the wedding, there will be a period of adjustment to married life, especially for the bride who joins her husband’s household. Unlike the marriage preparation period, however, which could last for years, the marriage-adjustment period is relatively short by comparison. However, the bride will need time to achieve the same level of comfort living in the husband’s household as in her parents’ home. This usually happens after the birth of the first child, if not sooner. Ultimately, the Ribnovo marriage is truly a central and complex rite of passage for two people and their families. It has its own unique stages of separation (from single life, from the parents’ home), transition (pre-marriage preparation, marriage adjustment), and incorporation (into the “married,” spousehood, and parenthood circle) which permeate one another and 206 chapter 5 culminate in the Ribnovo wedding. The colorful wedding ritual distracts from the anxiety that accompanies this major change in anyone’s adult life and helps two individuals adjust to their new circumstances, in merrymaking. In A Celebration of Customs and Rituals of the World, Ingpen and Wilkinson suitably describe the intended purpose of rituals in any given cultural community in the following way:

By relieving the stress within a community that can surround change, they [rituals] help to prevent social disruption. By bringing people together, they foster cooperation. By providing clear instructions to individuals, they help people to live up to society’s expectations.31

Customs and rituals, they contend, are important in society for three essential reasons: (i) to smooth the transition from one crucial stage of human existence into another without disrupting society’s life; (ii) to bring people together and create a sense of community among them; and (iii) to provide important guidance to the newlyweds as to the values, norms, and responsibilities they have in society as a family unit.32 Indeed, the passage from one stage of a person’s life into another—from single to married life, for instance—entails a major change not only in that person’s social condition, but also in the social condition of his or her family group, and potentially of the whole community. Because difficulties accom- pany these changes, rituals play a pivotal role in reducing the anxiety that people experience. As van Gennep aptly puts it:

Such changes of condition do not occur without disturbing the life of society and the individual, and it is the function of the rites of passage to reduce their harmful effects. That such passages are regarded as real and important is demonstrated by the recurrence of rites . . . among widely differing peoples [and societies] . . . [emphasis added].33

Because people design and enact them with a view to alleviating social dis- turbances occurring at key points in every person or group’s lifecycle, customs and rituals are indispensable for the proper functioning of any given society. The wedding is one of those fundamental rituals. In fact, van Gennep defines marriage as “the most important of the transitions from one social category to

31 Ibid. 32 Ibid. 33 Van Gennep, 13. The Ribnovo Wedding 207 another, because for at least one of the spouses it involves a change of family, clan, village, or tribe, and sometimes, the newly married couple even establishes residence in a new house.” In other words, marriage constitutes a major disturbance in the life of two individuals, two families, and their community— even though it is generally perceived as a joyous event—so the wedding ceremony is intended to facilitate the process of adjustment from single to married life of the couple, as well as to jumpstart the couple’s successful reintegration into society as a family. As many people, particularly in Ribnovo, take part in the initiation of a new family, they have a stake in a marriage, and certain share of that stake is economic. Thus, the economic aspect is inherent in the wedding rite. In the Ribnovo wedding, this is clearly indicated by the gift exchange between two families, the bride’s cheiz, and the overall wedding expenses. Often, all parties involved have a vested interest in the economic component of a marriage, but none of them more so than the couple and their immediate families who usually bear the bulk of the wedding expenses. On a more abstract level, the extended families-, friends- and community’s stake lies in the future success of the marriage. The effort and expense the latter put into organizing the ritual transpires as an important investment into the proper functioning of society. As van Gennep puts it, “the bonds of marriage have joined not only two individuals, but above all the collectivities to which the maintenance of cohesion is important.”34 In the author’s terms, moreover,

[t]o marry is to pass from the group of children or adolescents into the adult group, from a given clan to another, from one family to another, and often from one village to another. An individual’s separation from these groups weakens them but strengthens those he [or she] joins.35

In the Ribnovo ritual, the bride is the one who leaves her family to join her husband’s household. As a result, it is the bride’s family that gets weakened. To postpone the weakening as much as possible, the members of the bride’s clan symbolically place obstacles before the groom on his way to the bride. Such obstacles can be barring the gate before the seekers who have come to uproot the bride from the security of her parental home to plant her into an alien environment, the groom’s place.36 The groom and his family have to pay their

34 Ibid., 120. 35 Ibid., 124. 36 See the section, Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo, of this chapter. 208 chapter 5 way into the bride’s house in order to gain access to her so that the marriage ceremony can proceed to its expected culmination, the formation of a new family. Further in the analysis, van Gennep makes another important observation applicable to the case of Ribnovo. He points out that every marriage poses a social disturbance in any given community’s equilibrium.37 But while that

phenomenon is scarcely noticed in . . . [the] big cities, . . . it is more apparent in remote corners of our countrysides where weddings are occasions for a stoppage of production, an expenditure of savings, and an awaken- ing from the usual apathy. . . . The impact of a marriage on a group’s daily life seems to me to explain . . . why marriages are held in spring, winter, and autumn—i.e., at the time of little activity and not at the moment when there is work in the fields. . . . It is often said, on the other hand, that this is chosen because the agricultural work is completed, the granaries and treasures are full, and there is a good opportunity for bachelors to establish a home for themselves for the winter.38

In this passage, the author makes several fundamental inferences that are very relevant to Ribnovo as a small rural community. First, unlike in the big city where people pretty much remain anonymous to one another, in Ribnovo everyone knows everybody else. Second, as an agricultural society, weddings occur in the cold season when most of the farm work is done and there is plenty of time for merrymaking. Third, by the winter, crops have been harvested and either stored for private use or sold for cash. Resources, therefore, are now available to pay for weddings. In Ribnovo, money comes from two main sources: (1) the sale of tobacco and mushrooms, grown and harvested throughout the year and/or (2) family members (mainly fathers) who, having worked abroad, return home in the fall to spend the hard-earned cash on home improvements, as well as on the education and marriages of their children. In marriages, the groom’s family resources go toward supplying a house for the newlyweds, while the bride’s side assembles a dowry to furnish the place.

Asserting Identity through Custom

All the flow of money into costly wedding ceremonies, when money is often hard to come by, may seem unreasonable, but it is essential to the Ribnovo

37 Van Gennep, 139. 38 Ibid. The Ribnovo Wedding 209 community. A group’s culture is nothing short of that group’s sense of identity which is periodically reasserted and reinvigorated through customs and rituals. More than a necessary ritual, the wedding tradition is among the strongest expressions of identity for the people of Ribnovo. Moreover, it has made them interesting, likeable, and known to the outside world. Through the medium of wedding ritual, the community not only projects a positive image of itself, but also proclaims an identity of its own making. As documentary producers, journalists, researchers, and scholars are increasingly curious about the unique wedding rituals of Ribnovo, they bring questions of Pomak identity to the fore. It is in the bTV documentary, Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo, and I have heard and seen it numerous times on television, in newspapers, on internet, and in the multiple formal and informal interviews I have had with Bulgarian-speaking Muslims, including from Ribnovo: When asked about their identity, people insist on being Muslim. Not Turkish; not Bulgarian; but Muslim; and Muslim not so much to express strong attachment to religion, but rather to indicate cultural rootedness. This means that the Pomaks increasingly tend to differentiate themselves from both the ethnic Turks and Bulgarian Christians to essentially resist outside prescriptions as to who they are. This effectively reflects the emergence of a more confident sense of self among the community in recent years whereby the identification Pomak is being used by members of the group to define themselves. The appellation Pomak, however, has not always been a comfortable one to bear, mainly because non-Pomaks have used it in a derogatory fashion. As a result, many Pomaks continue to substitute it for—simply—Muslim, especially when talking to outsiders. It feels somewhat safer to do so. This is not to say, though, that they do not accept Pomak as self-appellation. The name is old and familiar to the community. As Stoyu Shishkov—a (Christian) Bulgarian author—observes, the term has been historically used in reference not only to the Rhodopean Muslims of Bulgaria, but also to the Slavic-speaking Muslims in Turkey, Greece, and Macedonia.39 In the time of the Ottoman Empire, part of the Rhodope population was designated as Pomaks to distinguish them as local Muslims who stood apart from the Bulgarian Christians. But since Bulgaria’s independence from Ottoman rule in 1878, the name Pomak has been indiscriminately used by both Christian Bulgarians and Bulgarian Turks to connote “traitors” of the Eastern Orthodox Christian faith or “impure Turk” respectively. The Bulgarian label is based on the assumption that the Pomaks’ predecessors were once Christians who converted to Islam, although that claim has never been

39 Stoyu Shishkov, Balgaro-mohamedanite (pomaysi) (Sofia, Bulgaria: Sibia, 1997), 15 & passim. The book was originally published in 1936. 210 chapter 5 substantiated. The Turkish connotation of the name in more recent times, on the other hand, rests on the incorrect—partly unwitting—synonymization of “Turkish” and “Ottoman” in respect to the Pomak status in the Ottoman Empire as Ottoman subjects of non-Turkish (Slavic?) descent.40 Following this historical pejorativization of the word, many have stopped short of declaring themselves Pomak. Moreover, after a series of compulsory assimilations in Bulgaria, many members of the group have felt it risky to declare any such affiliation. In the last twenty years, however, the Rhodopean Muslims are not only becoming comfortable with the name, but also finding new meaning in it. The meaning is one of identity of their own: the identity of Bulgarian-speaking Muslims; the identity of Pomaks. To be Pomak for the community not only means knowing who they are, but also standing up for one’s own sense of self. That is why, in Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo, the people of Ribnovo while conceding to be Bulgarians, also empha- size the difference of religion and identify as Pomaks. Margarita Karamikhova, ethnographer at the Bulgarian Academy of Science, ponders on the reasons for this dual cultural self-identification:

The traumatic memories from the different periods when the Bulgarian Muslims had their names changed is still very painful [to them]. The first generation, free of such memories, still matures. They are still young. Very painfully, very slowly, with great difficulty, people reminisce [when interviewed] of what happened to them. The harsh assimilatory politics of the past drives people into looking for another form of identification [than simply that of Bulgarians]; into finding another name for themselves [- Pomaks]. Islam [i.e., identifying as Muslim] seems to provide the most acceptable one to them.41

What Karamikhova perceptively observes is the root cause of it all: The feelings of hurt and humiliation that the people in Ribnovo and across the Rhodopes still carry as a direct result of the vŭzhroditelen protses and the earlier pokrŭstvane.42 The phrase “Ribnovo republic” dates back to the 1960s and 1970s, when there were violent clashes between the police and Christian civilians enabling the vŭzhroditelen protses, on one hand, and the inhabitants of

40 Shishkov, passim; Ali Eminov, Turkish and Other Muslim Minorities in Bulgaria (New York: Routledge, 1997), passim. 41 bTV documentary, Colorful Fairytale Ribnovo (ibid.). 42 For detailed accounts of the vŭzhroditelen protses and the pokrŭstvane, see chapters two and three. The Ribnovo Wedding 211 several villages in the Western Rhodopes, including Ribnovo, on the other. The Ribnovo villagers put a strong resistance and defiantly—but largely symbolically—proclaimed their place “a republic,” the dream land of cultural freedom. Of course, there never was or could be any actual “Ribnovo republic,” but the term has become a catchphrase ever since to mockingly denote Ribnovo as a backward society.43 Historically, the people of Ribnovo defended their sense of identity even when guns were turned against them. Essentially, all they wanted was their names unchanged and their religious traditions intact. They needed the community the way they knew it, not the way others thought it should be. In Ribnovo, more than in any other Pomak community of the Rhodopes today, rootedness in cultural tradition matters so much that any threat of change only makes people cling more faithfully to it.44 Pomak as a cultural identity in Bulgaria is highly politicized today. Any reference to a distinct cultural heritage is problematic. That is why, the Muslim community of the Rhodopes, and in Ribnovo in particular, still avoid promoting their customs and rituals as Pomak culture. Instead, they safely present them as the celebration and honoring of age-old local traditions. But people are acutely aware of the Pomak nature of these traditions that are practiced neither by their Christian, nor by their Turkish-speaking neighbors. Thus, the Ribnovo wedding, although unique to the village today, has its past precedents in the Pomak villages across the Western Rhodopes. Despite the preponderance of Western-style garments and secular traditions in modern- day Rhodopean weddings, certain fundaments of tradition are characteristic to all Pomak nuptials even today. The foremost commonality is that the wedding is always a family affair, whereby the two connecting families—and notably the groom’s one—organize, most actively participate in, and pay for the

43 My interviewees Ramadan Runtov-Kurucu and Ismail Byalkov, both from Kornitsa— currently, residents of Istanbul (Turkey)—were taken as political prisoners during the final stage of the vŭzhroditelen protses in 1973. Ago Ramadan recounted how the four villages of Kornitsa, Lŭzhnitsa, Ribnovo, and Breznitsa were surrounded by armed militia in the early 1960s, while the population within prevented the “revivalists” from entering the villages by blocking the main road coming in. The villagers had clubs and farm implements against the armed contingents of police, communist apparatchiks, and Christian civilians. This tense situation went on for three months until the authorities finally aborted the campaign, largely for fear of international scandal. Ultimately, in 1973, these villages rebelled again, but this time the resistance was crashed and five people died as a result. This issue is extensively discussed in chapters three and four of this book. 44 This information is based on archival documents from the Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv- Sofia and the author’s interviews with Ramadan Runtov and Ismail Byalkov. Both groups of sources are comprehensively used in chapters two, three, and four respectively. 212 chapter 5 wedding. Another shared trait is the assumption that the bride provides the dowry, while the groom—the house. A third uniting feature is the way receptions are held. They are typically open to the community at large, with no formal invitations; expenses are generally born by the groom’s family. A fourth—albeit decreasing in relevance—similarity is the expectation that the bride should marry a virgin, or, alternately, have no other “boyfriend” than her husband-to-be. Yet a fifth, and by no means final, commonality is the live music accompanying the newlyweds every step of the way for the duration of the wedding. This list of shared characteristics in the wedding customs of most Pomak communities is far from complete. But in combination with existing past similarities of marriage traditions across the (Western) Rhodopes and the lack of such thereof with other cultural groups, it provides sufficient grounds to claim that the colorful Ribnovo wedding is indeed a unique and meaningful expression of Pomak heritage. Due to the fact that Pomak culture remains largely unexplored, or compulsorily explained in terms of belonging to the mainstream Bulgarian culture, many valuable cultural traditions—including the unique wedding ritual—are rapidly fading away without ever being documented. I chose to describe, interpret, and analyze the colorful Ribnovo wedding in an attempt to preserve an exciting Pomak tradition, which has sadly gone extinct outside of Ribnovo. The traditional Ribnovo wedding has survived despite—and perhaps because of—its disappearance elsewhere in the Western Rhodopes. Having established itself at the end of a solitary mountain road, the community has preserved Pomak heritage more than any other community in the vast Rhodope Mountains. What the people of Ribnovo know is what they love most, and what they love is what they cannot let go. Clinging to tradition has become a second nature to the villagers, because to them it means identity, stability, and future. Recently, as the community has fared better economically, weddings are only getting bigger and more elaborate. Most parents just compete to provide richer spectacles during their sons or daughters’ wedding through the lavishness of the dowry, gifts, music, and bridal ornamentation. Fortunately, at this point in time, the unique, colorful Ribnovo wedding, it seems, will endure as tradition, as identity anchor, and as Pomak heritage.

∵ Cultural tradition is an important element of identity and heritage, but it is by no means the only one. Whereas this chapter effectively establishes the Ribnovo wedding as a highly visible Pomak ritual, there are “stories” that clearly pertain The Ribnovo Wedding 213 to history as well. Indeed, it must be acknowledged that heritage is more than custom or culture. In fact, heritage has a strong historical component, which leads to the pertinent question: Is there an identifiable Pomak history? Naturally, there is a history associated with the Pomak people, as with all human communities. Regrettably, the most visible aspect of that history has been the religious, political, and cultural oppression of the Pomaks in Bulgaria, beginning with the pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913 (see chapter two) and culminat- ing in the vŭzhroditelen protses of 1972–1974 (see chapter three). While this is valid history, which inevitably influences the preservation and projection into the future of any Pomak heritage, there are also positive aspects to Pomak history that await identification, contextualization, and incorporation into the collective Pomak narrative. The next chapter advances one such opportunity to reclaim a potentially uniting historical component of a renewed Pomak, Rhodopean, and local heritage. chapter 6 Preserving Historical Heritage: The Case of Salih Ağa of Pașmaklı, the Pomak Governor of the Ahı Çelebi Kaza of the Ottoman Empire (1798–1838)

This chapter deals with the person and legacy of Salih Ağa of Paşmaklı within the context of the hotly disputed Pomak heritage in Bulgaria. Salih is the most famous, but “forgotten” Pomak governor of the small Ottoman province of Ahı Çelebi from the first half of the nineteenth century.1 Relying largely on orally transmitted ethnographic documentation, I reconstruct the life story of a fascinating ruler who registers in local memory as tough—indeed, often ruthless—but relentlessly evenhanded enforcer of justice. Most notably, he elevated the status of Christians to that of Muslims in Ahı Çelebi despite the religious discrimination inherent in Shari’a, the normative law of the Ottoman Empire. One major problem that prevents the construction of standard narrative histories of Pomak heritage in general, and about Salih Ağa in particular, is the lack of direct historical evidence. That is, within the larger framework, Pomak heritage does not exist—at least, not officially. Historically, Pomak heritage has been traditionally subsumed into, initially, Ottoman-Muslim and, subsequently, Bulgarian historiography. For Ottoman historians, the Pomaks were peripheral local people, largely indistinguishable from the larger mass of Muslim subjects, who were not even remarkable for causing trouble. Subsequently, for Bulgarian nationalism, “Pomak” became and remains a forbidden name, ostensibly liable to spell ethnic divisions and territorial disputes. Plainly and simply, then, Pomak history does not explicitly exist in recorded history. Instead, it must be gleaned out of whatever historical evidence there is, both oral and recorded. In Salih Ağa’s case, as a highly local and fairly minor Ottoman governor, he should be largely absent from the annals of Ottoman history. But hunting for any snippets of information that may have survived

1 The Ottoman state had a tripartite level of administrative government based on territorial districts: (1) the largest administrative unit was vilayet and it was ruled by the highest ranking-governor paşa (pasha); (2) the next, smaller unit was sancak (sandzhak); and (3) the third and smallest was kaza, the later two ruled by lesser governors (ağas). The Ahı Çelebi Kaza was part of the Gümürcina (Gumurdzhina) Sancak within the Vilayet of Edirne, the Province of Rumelia.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��4 | doi ��.��63/9789004272088_��7 Preserving Historical Heritage 215 about him in various Ottoman archives, would be more trouble that worth for the purpose of this chapter, because of a language barrier, among other things. More importantly, it is known that the archive from Salih’s time as administrator of Ahı Çelebi was destroyed during the Balkan Wars of 1912–1913. While the construction of Pomak histories may be difficult, however, it is not impossible. This chapter sets out to (re-)claim Salih Ağa and his legacy as a Pomak heritage. I develop the story on the basis of surviving archival evidence as well as abundant oral stories and legends about Salih. Because of the incompleteness of the existing sources, however—at least in the sense that they recount epi- sodic stories about Salih, rather than provide any comprehensive account of his life—my goal is far from any kind of biography of the governor. Instead, I attempt to reveal him the way he has survived in local memory by piecing together the available information. Because Salih lived and ruled in turbulent times, his—in many ways—conventional achievements stand out as a stagger- ing feat of moral integrity, justice, and pursuit of order.

Finding Salih Ağa

Salih Ağa is a fascinating character to study. But the governor particularly matters within the discourse of Pomak heritage because—as my friend Ivan Terziev once said—his positive legacy of equitable treatment of Muslims and Christians in Ahı Çelebi could be a potent “unifying factor” of the Rhodopean communities of both faiths today. The combination of Salih’s fascinating presence in the indigenous folklore and the rather limited surviving records about him make this relatively obscure Ottoman governor an extremely desirable, but equally challenging candidate for study. Although I was born in the Western Rhodopes not far from the place where Salih lived and ruled, I had never heard about him before the summer of 2007 when I delved into the region’s history. Salih Ağa became the forgotten governor of Ahı Çelebi for two correlated reasons: (1) After the country gained independence from Ottoman rule, Bulgaria’s national historiography associated him with the former “Turkish oppressors,” and, consequently, (2) the official memory chose to ignore Salih’s legacy. The Rhodopean community today remembers little beyond the name Salih, which is frequently mentioned in vernacular references to prominent local sites, such as “The Gorge of Salih Ağa” (presently, the Waterfall of Smolyan) and “The Konak of Salih Ağa.” The place I encountered Salih Ağa’s name is Smolyan, a city of about forty thousand inhabitants today, formerly known as Paşmaklı. For almost a 216 chapter 6 hundred years, Paşmaklı was the capital township, from which Salih Ağa and his family ruled the Ahı Çelebi Kaza. The former Ottoman kaza occupied an area naturally enclosed by picturesque mountain ridges, running along the Arda River in the Middle Rhodopes, southwest Bulgaria. During Salih’s time, the Rhodope Mountains were still overgrown by thick pine forests—here completely covering gently sloping hills, there the base from which sharp, rocky peaks jutted skyward. The place is rich in history and legend and, for millennia, the naturally protected and largely inaccessible Rhodopes provided home to peaceful sheep- and goat-herding populations. But the mountains were also a hideout for dangerous outlaws who would pillage and plunder the fertile valleys of Thrace and then withdraw to safety in the mountain, heavy with spoils. Smolyan lies in the heart of this magnificent Rhodope Mountain. I visited the town in the summer of 2007, wishing to learn more about the history and culture of the predominantly Muslim population of the Rhodopes, the Pomaks. Ivan Terziev, a local Bulgarian Christian, whom I have known for many years, gracefully agreed to be my guide in Smolyan. From our preliminary telephone conversation, Ivan knew that I was interested in conducting oral history research in the area, and that I wanted to talk to some local people about their traditions and historical memory. When one is interested in a community like the Pomaks—largely non-existent in recorded history, one has to pay particular attention to oral history, because it is the principal source of emic historical knowledge. While the majority of ethnic Bulgarians profess Eastern Orthodox Christianity, the Pomaks do not. Since Bulgaria’s independence from Ottoman rule, there have been numerous attempts to assimilate the Pomaks, including by forcibly converting them to Christianity and replacing their Turkish-Arab names with Slavic-Bulgarian ones. Subsequent reversals of policy, however, have helped preserve their identity to this day. According to Ivan’s estimates, the ratio of Muslims to Christians in the city of Smolyan today is forty to sixty percent, but the surrounding villages are largely Muslim. Nowadays, Bulgarians of both faiths coexist well as neighbors and friends in the Rhodopes. When I first arrived in Smolyan, Ivan and I sat for a chat in a local eatery. I asked him to show me or tell me about interesting places or people from the region’s past. Anticipating my interest, he had already arranged for me to meet with Mrs. Melike Belinska, a descendant of Deli Bey, another feudal lord from the Ottoman past and blood relative of Salih Ağa, so that she could show me around the konak (the ruler’s headquarters) of Deli Bey and tell me stories that she might have heard from her parents and grandparents. Unlike the konak of Salih Ağa, which was about three times the size of this one and destroyed in Preserving Historical Heritage 217

Figure 6-1 The konak of Deli-Ali Bey in Smolyan Presently, the building is state-owned and operated as a hotel, June 2007.

1931,2 the beautiful edifice of Deli Bey, finished by one of his sons Ali, survives (Figure 6-1). Nationalized by the communist regime in the 1960s, the municipal government operates it as a hotel today. Visibly excited, I asked Ivan when the meeting was supposed to take place. He answered that we should leave as soon as I finished my meal. I quickly swallowed the melted-cheese sandwich, collected my recording equipment from the table, and was ready to go. We were to meet Melike in the konak itself (Figure 6-2), located in downtown Smolyan. On our way there, Ivan mentioned that the man I ought to hear about was Salih Ağa. He told me that the site in town, where his residence once stood, is still known as the konak of Salih Ağa. Although the konak did not survive, a number of roads, arched bridges, and aqueducts remain as silent testimony to Salih’s legacy. Salih Ağa had a vital

2 Matey Mateev, Srednorodopski konatsi (Plovdiv, Bulgaria: Natsionalna Akademiya na Arhitekturata, 2005). The quote is from the section about the konak of Salih Ağa, published separately, see Matey Mateev, Konakŭt na Salih Ağa Pashmakliisky (Plovdiv, Bulgaria: Natsionalna Akademiya na Arhitekturata, 2005), 15. 218 chapter 6

Figure 6-2 Melike Belinska Melike gives me a tour of the konak of Deli Bey—her great-grandfather and the nephew of Salih’s father Süleyman Ağa—in Smolyan, June 2007.

impact on the area not only for building extensive infrastructure, but also for inviting Christian families to settle and take roots in the central Rhodopes. The governor protected the Christians from harassment and allowed them to prosper on equal footing with the privileged Muslim subjects of the Ottoman Empire.3 Ivan’s reference to his just treatment of Christians was the first time I heard the name Salih Ağa. With such a positive clue in mind, I was looking forward to meet Ab(l)a4 Melike so that I could learn more about this elusive governor. Unfortunately, she could not satisfy my curiosity either because— like most other people—she had no definitive knowledge about him. She

3 Vassil Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I (Sofia, Bulgaria: Otechestven Front, 1928), 72–96; Nikolay Haytov, “Smolyan: Tri vŭrha v srednorodopskata istoria” (Sofia, Bulgaria: Natsionalen Sŭvet na Otechestvenia Front, 1962), 18–31; Vassil Dechov, Tetradka na V. Dechov, 1924: Istoricheski belejki za roda (?) na Kör Hoca [Hodzha] i Salih ağa Pashmakliisky (Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Smolyan), passim. 4 Aba or abla is a title of respect given to an older woman among the Pomaks of the (Western) Rhodopes. Preserving Historical Heritage 219 did, however, share some fascinating stories about her own branch of the Kör Hodzha’s (Hoca’s) family, (which I do not discuss here since they bear no direct relevance to Salih).

Salih Ağa and His Time

Salih Ağa governed the Ottoman kaza of Ahı Çelebi for forty years. Paşmaklı— modern-day Smolyan in Bulgaria—served as his administrative center, where Salih chose to build his konak. During his long reign, the residents of Ahı Çelebi and the adjacent areas enjoyed peaceful coexistence, as well as economic and political equilibrium. Thus, in the local community’s oral history, the name Salih Ağa is still synonymous with “iron law,” an image enhanced by the political volatility of the Ottoman Empire at the time.5 The governor was in charge of a strategically important region of the Ottoman realm, sitting on—what is today—the border zone of Bulgaria with northern Greece. He inherited the governorship from his father, Süleyman Ağa, and his grandfather, Mehmed Kör Hoca (Hodzha). Popularly endorsed by both Muslims and Christians, Mehmed Kör Hoca became the first native governor of the kaza in the year 1751. Thus, he founded a dynasty that would rule the Middle Rhodopes for the next one hundred years. Salih Ağa’s reign constituted the apex of that family’s rule.6 He is best remembered for bringing much-needed political and economic security to the area for both Muslims and Christians in times of grave instability and rampant banditry in much of the Ottoman state. In fact, Salih was so successful in instituting order and justice in the kaza that Nikolay Haytov, a leading Bulgarian historian, defines the period of his governorship as a “pinnacle” in the long history of the Middle Rhodopes.7 Salih’s handling of the province as his private feudal realm, however, in conjunction with his favorable disposition toward the Christians, would ultimately provoke the distrust of an already paranoid imperial government,8 with deathly consequences for him and his family.

5 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96; Haytov, “Smolyan,” 18–31. 6 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96; Haytov, “Smolyan,” 18–31. 7 Haytov, 18–31. 8 This was a difficult time for the central government of the Ottoman Empire, vested in the Istanbul-based Sultanate, for three reasons: First, provincial notables resisted the government’s efforts to centralize the Empire and to, therefore, limit their powers, so they often challenged Istanbul with their own private armies. Second, the ambitions of the Russian Empire to gain access to the Black Sea and the Mediterranean posed a serious and constant 220 chapter 6

Whereas his rather independent rule of Ahı Çelebi was slow to attract imperial attention, in conjunction with the governor’s failure to strictly enforce Shari’a and to differentiate between his Muslim and Christian subjects, made him an apparent culprit. Being a Rhodopean native and not a centrally appointed, outside administrator, as was the standard practice, Salih Ağa spoke the Slavic dialect of the Rhodopes. It was the linguistic kinship of the Muslim and Christian inhabitants of the Rhodopes that underwrote Salih’s policy of equitable treatment. But just what accounted for this linguistic homogeneity and religious dichotomy? When the medieval Christian kingdom of Bulgaria fell under Ottoman rule in the late fourteenth century, it remained so until the late nineteenth century—full five centuries. During this time, many people converted to Islam to attain higher socio-political status since Muslims were more privileged under Shari’a than non-Muslims. For instance, non-Muslims were barred from pursuing lucrative military and political careers. In addition, they had to pay special taxes, not required of Muslims, such as ispençe (land tax), haraç (in-kind land tax), cizya (head tax), and others.9 When and under what circumstances exactly the population of the Rhodopes became Muslim, however, has not been authoritatively and unanimously established. The fact of the matter today is that the Pomaks are a Bulgarian-speaking community who professes Islam in a largely Orthodox Christian nation. But, in Salih’s time, the Ottoman Empire was undisputedly Muslim-dominated. Salih’s achievements were momentous not only for overcoming the equality limitations of Shari’a, but also because he successfully ruled in trying times for the Ottoman Empire. The end of the eighteenth- and the beginning of the nineteenth century was an intense period of opposition by semi- independent regional administrators to the attempts of the Ottoman state to consolidate its rule. As a result, provincial governors, long accustomed to autonomy and absolute control over their realms, felt threatened by the effort of the Ottoman Sultanate in Istanbul to strengthen its authority and limit their power. Understandably, those who had much to lose, and were confident in their potency, rose against the central government. Most of the forces support-

threat to the territorial integrity of the Ottoman state. In fact, in the decade before Salih’s death (1838), the Ottomans had just concluded another war with the Russians (1828–1829), which facilitated Greece’s independence. Third, the Christian populations in the Balkans were prone to rebellions in the nineteenth century, largely inspired by the success of the Greek Revolution of 1821–1829 and the spread of Western nationalism. 9 A letter signed by Salih Ağa testifies to the fact that one non-Muslim (his name is not mentioned) paid his ispençe dues in the year 1810 (Figure 6-5). Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv- Smolyan, Fond 415k, Inventory 23, Archival Unit 52. Preserving Historical Heritage 221 ing such factional leaders consisted of kŭrdzhalii, called by the Rhodopeans hayti—mercenaries attracted by the prospects of personal gains.10 The kŭrdzhalii posed a serious challenge to the political stability of the empire during Salih’s time. They practically controlled whole provinces of the Ottoman state. Some of their leaders were powerful provincial administrators such as Osman Pazvantoglu of Vidin, who turned his kŭrdzhalii on Constantinople itself in an attempt to overturn Sultan Selim III (1761–1808).11 In steady raids, the hayti burned down settlements, took property, women and livestock, thus, causing immeasurable loss and suffering to civilians. The heavy woods and rugged terrain of the Rhodopes provided many kŭrdzhalii bands with quick escape from retribution, when imperial troops or locally operating regiments went after them. Nikolay Haytov describes the desperate situation at the turn of the nineteenth century in the following way:

[T]he whole Ottoman Kingdom was in turmoil; the kŭrdzhalii leaders Mehmed Sinap, Mehmed Dertli, Emin Ağa, Karamanaff Ibrahim and others were burning the towns and villages of [modern-day] Bulgaria, and, come winter, they withdrew in their fortresses [within the Rhodopes] with abundant spoils.12

Official fermans (royal decrees) authorized regional rulers like Salih Ağa to arm every able-bodied man—Muslim and Christian—within their entrusted provinces in order to fight the hayti.13 When the hayti raged, all usual business came to a standstill as the frightened populace was unable to tend to the fields, while government became paralyzed. In the midst of such pervading chaos, though, Ahı Çelebi stood secure. Its people went about their daily affairs largely unobstructed as Salih saw to the safety of the kaza and of those who dwelled within it. Salih Ağa was a determined ruler who was frequently prone to ruthlessness when it came to enforcing the law. He maintained order in Ahı Çelebi by reciprocating the brutality of the hayti, but only when he deemed it absolutely necessary. Particularly vulnerable to willful aggression, the Christian population especially appreciated Salih Ağa’s swift rendition of justice. Historical memory among Rhodopeans of both faiths celebrates him as a ruler who punished Muslim and Christian malefactors

10 Nikolay Haytov, Rodopski Vlastelini (Sofia: Otechestven Front, 1976), 71–146. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid., 218. 13 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 127–141. The fermans are cited in full, in Bulgarian translation, within the respective pages. 222 chapter 6 on an equitable basis. Haytov describes the essence and impact of his excessive from a modern standpoint, but extremely efficient “Solomonian law”:

His [Salih’s] Penal Code consisted of four paragraphs: For banditry— shot. For pillaging and insubordination—hung . . . For minor offences— cursed; and for moral transgressions against girls and women—threw the perpetrators from the notorious Gorge of Salih Ağa. Finally, for trespass- ing livestock—shot the “offending” animal, and administered fifty to a hundred lashes to the owner. The laws of Salih Ağa applied with equal force to both Christians and Mohammedans [(Muslims)]; they were enforced mercilessly and absolutely, and the good results were immediate: Agricultural life in the Ahı Çelebi kaza did not stop as it did in the adjacent regions ravished by the bandits. The roads were safe, the nights—peaceful, and the hayti steered clear of Ahı Çelebi. [Consequently,] Smolyan became the only place, where refugees from Dimotika, Haskovo, and Ardino, who had escaped the kŭrdzhalii, found safe heaven. It was during that time when [Bulgarian Christian] families like the Tomovs, Stanchovs, Kiryanovs, Uzunovs, Nachovs, and Takovs settled in the area.14

Salih Ağa frequently imposed stern punishments. For instance, for immoral advances toward women and girls, he would bind the perpetrator’s hands and feet before he had him thrown from the top of a waterfall, known to this day as The Gorge of Salih Ağa. Thus, a victim would often suffer a slow and painful death of broken bones, blood loss, and/or drowning. As brutal as this form of punishment may seem, it was critical in deterring rape or general abuse of women, crimes all too common at the time to be neglected. Known as a particularly strict moralist, Salih adjudicated very harshly on sexual offences.15 By rendering just such a punishment in one case, Salih made a mortal enemy of one of his formerly close associates, Petko Tsŭrvulan Kehaya of Dereköy, a wealthy Christian livestock owner. This person would later support the base- less accusations of treason leveled against the governor. Tsŭrvulan Kehaya’s son, a young single man, pursued a girl from Ustovo (now a neighborhood of Smolyan) in an offensive and indecent manner. The young woman complained to her father who, in turn, reported the case to Salih Ağa. Because of the strong need to contain lawlessness and keep order, the governor had to consistently appear firm and impartial in the administration of justice. Thus, friendship

14 Haytov, “Smolyan”, 22–23. See also Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 78. 15 Haytov, “Smolyan,” 18–31; Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96. Preserving Historical Heritage 223 notwithstanding, Tsŭrvulan’s son was duly arrested, tried, and convicted of moral misconduct, the punishment for which was death by throwing into the Gorge of Salih Ağa. In revenge for his son’s killing, Tsŭrvulan Kehaya would play a role in bringing about the governor’s demise to the detriment of all in Ahı Çelebi.16

Who Wrote about Salih Ağa

Salih Ağa is a powerful figure in the oral tradition of the Middle Rhodopes. Despite his folklore pervasiveness, however, Salih is absent from the officially endorsed historiography of Bulgaria. Only three authors, with strong personal connections to the Rhodopes, provide partial accounts of his life. The oldest and most trustworthy among them belongs to Vassil Dechov, a local Bulgarian Christian historian and ethnographer, who also served as mayor of the Middle- Rhodopean town of Chepelare at the turn of twentieth century. Dechov published a two-volume history of Cheperale in 1928. The first volume, incor- porating a research that spans at least four decades, has a section on Salih Ağa’s family history.17 The section in question is based on an earlier handwritten journal, in which Dechov had recorded stories specifically regarding Salih Ağa. The journal dates back to 1924. For convenience, I refer to it as the Historical Diary or simply the Diary.18 In the document, Dechov identifies Mehmedali Tahirbey, the grandson of Salih Ağa and the son of Tahir Bey (the oldest of Salih’s son, Figure 6-4), as one of his sources of information about the gover- nor.19 In Dechov’s own words, “Tahir Bey’s son and Salih’s grandson Mehmedali Tahirbey, who gave me a detailed account of his grandfather, is a gentle, quiet, and extremely good-natured person. He is now about 65-year old [emphasis added].”20 Additionally, at the end of Volume I of Minaloto na Chepelare (The Past of Chepelare), the author attaches a list of more than 160 informants,21 among which is the name Mehmed Tahirbeev of Paşmaklı (the 90th informant from the top). Even though this informant’s relationship to Salih remains unde- termined, it is likely that Mehmedali, son of Tahir Bey, grandson of Salih Ağa, is either the same Mehmed Tahirbeev or a Mehmed’s descendant. Regardless of

16 Dechov, Historical Diary, 22–23; Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 87. 17 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96. 18 Historical Diary, passim. 19 Ibid., 15 & 42 (or pages 7 & 34 of the typed version of the Diary). 20 Ibid., 42 (or 22). 21 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 279–83. 224 chapter 6 these uncertainties, however, it is abundantly clear that Salih Ağa’s own family was among the most valuable Dechov’s informants, including Salih’s very own grandson.22 At the time of the interview, as the author indicates in the Diary, Mehmedali was a sixty-five-year old man. It is quite possible that Mehmedali was old enough to have more than fleeting memories of his grandfather Salih, provided that Dechov interviewed him in the early years of his ethnographic research (i.e., as early as the 1880s). Unfortunately, I have no way of ascertaining when the interview(s) took place. However, I can safely conclude that Mehmedali (and/or Mehmed) transmitted intimate family knowledge about their legendary predecessor. Salih’s grandson Mehmedali appears to be the source of at least two crucial pieces of information: first, exactly how Salih died and, second, what occurred in the konak once news of his death reached Paşmaklı.23 The second author who wrote about Salih Ağa is Nikolay Haytov, a prominent Bulgarian writer and historian, who published a paper, “Smolyan: Tri vŭrha v srednorodopskata istoria” (Smolyan: Three Pinnacles in the History of the Middle Rhodopes), in 1962 and a book, Rodopski vlastelini (Rhodopean Lords), in 1976. Both works contain narratives directly concerning the gover- nor or about events and individuals related to him.24 The third author is Petŭr Marinov, another Bulgarian writer, who in the late 1930s published the play Salih Ağa. The play incorporates well-known stories about the ruler of Ahı Çelebi, which had originally been reported by Vassil Dechov.25 The central source of all these works appears to be the oral tradition of the local community. Vassil Dechov’s volume contains, among other things, the earliest and most comprehensive written account on the family of Salih Ağa, starting from his grandfather, Mehmed Kör Hoca (Hodzha). Kör Hoca was originally from the township of Chepelare, where Dechov lived and, therefore, had unfettered access both to archival material and rich oral history. Nikolay Haytov, for his part, conducted research on Salih Ağa and his governorship while serving as a forest guard in the Smolyan region during the 1960s and 1970s.

22 Dechov, Historical Diary, 15 and 42. 23 Ibid. The list further includes as informants “Adzhi Ağa’s grandchildren,” Salih’s grand- nephews and offspring of his brother Adzhi Ağa’s sons, Salih’s bitter enemy. The list most probably contains the names of other close descendants, but I cannot be certain of it since Dechov does not specify his informants’ kinship ties (except a few only) to the family. 24 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 197–234. 25 Petŭr Marinov, Salih Ağa, Rodopski voyvoda i deribey: Cherti iz jivota i upravlenieto mu— Dramatizatsia po ustni predania i legendi v pet deystvia (Plovdiv, Bulgaria: Collection Rodina, 1940). Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 959, Inventory 1, Archival Unit 52. Preserving Historical Heritage 225

Although Haytov propagandistically portrays Salih Ağa as Bulgarian patriot, largely to comply with the ideology of the communist regime, his account is an invaluable contribution to reviving Salih’s legacy in Bulgaria as late as 1976. Petŭr Marinov, on the other hand, writes with a specific agenda. In the 1930s and 1940s, he was a founding member of the Organization Rodina, which played a major role in the Pomak pokrŭstvane of 1938–1944.26 His play, Salih Ağa, quite purposely recasted the Ottoman governor as a Bulgarian nationalist half a century before a Bulgarian national state even existed. Understandably, Marinov wrote the play to inspire the kind of patriotic consciousness Rodina sought to instill in the Pomaks when carrying out the pokrŭstvane. To that end, as evident from the archival inventory of the Petŭr Marinov Collection (housed in Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv), Rodina sponsored a series of live performances of Salih Ağa in the Rhodopes between 1938 and 1944 (Figures 6-6 and 6-7) as part of the sustained assimilation campaign. Ironically, the only—and quite unintended—effect of Marinov’s play was reinstating Salih Ağa to his rightful place in Bulgaria’s historical discourse (at least for a short while), albeit for the wrong reasons. The play, however, has one undisputed quality: Salih’s personality comes remarkably alive from its pages, due in large part to the authentic Rhodopean dialect Marinov uses to render the dialogue. Beyond these limited accounts, little has been published or said about the Pomak governor of Ahı Çelebi.27 Indeed, a cursory examination of the modern Bulgarian historiography reveals that the prevalent mode of presenting any Muslim-Ottoman heritage is either negative or dismissive.28 The works of

26 Rodina, a nationalist organization with a mixed Bulgarian-Christian and Pomak membership, was set up with the help of the Bulgarian authorities in 1937 to facilitate the conversion of the Pomaks in the period 1938–1944. 27 This was particularly the case in the period from the 1950s to the 1980s when the communist regime in Bulgaria completely banished all things akin to “foreign” (un-Bulgarian) heritage. The combined effect of religious suppression and ethnic assimilation during the communism era (1945–1989) resulted in detrimental forgetting of the past, particularly among the Pomaks who were among the primary targets of the assimilation. 28 In 2006, for instance, the Austrian academic Ulf Brunnbauer and his Bulgarian colleague Martina Baleva made an attempt to launch a new scholarly perspective about the notorious Batak Massacre. According to the official version of the events, thousands of Bulgarian Christians were massacred by Muslims during a wave of rebellions in 1876, including children, women, and men. Their skeletal remains are prominently displayed in the church of Batak to this day. Brunnbauer and Baleva were immediately accused of serving foreign interests that wished to rewrite Bulgarian history, and they were forced to prematurely terminate their work in Bulgaria. 226 chapter 6

Dechov, Haytov, and Marinov, however, portray Salih as a righteous and likeable ruler, who often exerted a form of harsh justice for the greater good of law and order. It is worth noting that Dechov, Marinov, and Haytov—three Bulgarian- Christian scholars—speak very highly of the Ottoman governor of Pomak lin- eage, Salih Ağa. To be sure, the pursuit of a pokrŭstvane agenda played a part in Marinov’s profuse exaltation of the governor. Likewise, Haytov’s obvious reverence for Salih may be partially explained with his alleged Pomak parentage.29 Dechov’s work, on the other hand, is tarnished neither by suspicions of ulterior motives, nor is he known to have been a pokrŭstvane crusader. Dechov wrote as a historian who was passionate about preserving local history and as a person who largely shied away from political propaganda. Overall, his reads as a straightforward and unembellished account of Salih Ağa. All three chroniclers, however, share one unmistakable trait: They were fascinated by Salih, and their admiration for the governor seems quite genuine. But neither these authors’ positive depiction of Salih, nor the governor’s reputation for integrity in the collective local memory could prevent the destruction of his heritage in Smolyan. The governor’s exclusive residence (konak), for example, endured systematic neglect and vandalism after 1912–1913, when

In fact, all Martina Baleva ever said was in the spirit of the following quote from an article she published in the weekly Kultura: “Less known perhaps are the following facts [about the Batak Massacre]: Even before the ensuing Russo-Turkish War (1877–78) and the creation of the Bulgarian national state, the dreadful events in Batak were almost as quickly forgotten as they were revived 16 years later to become the central focus of public attention in Bulgarian society. Between 1876 and 1892, the only evidence about the bloody past of Batak are two well-known pictures by the Plovdiv-based photographer of Greek origin, Dimitŭr Kavra, depicting survivors of the massacre and the Batak church containing the skeletal remains [of the massacred], both from 1878 [i.e., two years ofter the fact], as well as Stambolov’s translation from 1880.* All of a sudden, in 1892, an enormous amount of literature and imagery on Batak appeared, which continues to this day.” * Baleva is referring to the report of J.A. MacGahan, an American journalist of Irish descent married to a Russian aristocrat, published in the Daily News. This report and the two pictures, produced two years after the massacre, constituted the whole evidence about it. Baleva’s comment about J.A. MacGahan is that the author “does not try to conceal his pro-Russian sympathies . . . and his exceptionally negative attitude toward the Ottoman state and Islamic religion.” (Kultura 17 (2412), May 3, 2006). 29 Nikolay Haytov is a renowned Bulgarian writer and historian, as well as a great promoter of the thesis about the Bulgarian-Christian heritage of the Pomaks. His father’s name is Shandyo, a conventional Pomak name that derives from the Muslim name Rushan, widespread among Rhodopean Pomaks. It is commonly believed in the Rhodopes that Haytov was of Pomak parentage, although he never addressed the issue publicly. Preserving Historical Heritage 227 much of the Rhodopes permanently became part of Bulgaria. The konak was completely demolished in 1931 (Figure 6-3). Attesting to the uniqueness of the edifice, the Bulgarian architect Matey Mateev—who published an illus- trated work on the architectural heritage of the Middle Rhodopes in 2005— defines Salih’s palace as “the most significant building complex [of its kind] in the entire Asia-Minor—and Balkan expanses of the Ottoman Empire.”30 He goes on to describe the sustained destruction of the konak as “utterly reckless and unlawful attitude of the then [Bulgarian] authorities toward the cultural heritage [of Bulgaria’s Ottoman past].” The konak’s site was subsequently filled by an army compound which, according to Mateev, could not even begin to compare with “its precursor in terms of magnitude, architectural quality, and style.”31 Quite amazingly, the name of Salih Ağa has not only remained largely untarnished in local memory, but it has actually acquired a measure of reverence in the public discourse via the praise of such committed promoters of Bulgarian nationalism as Petŭr Marinov and Nikolay Haytov.

Figure 6-3 The Konak of Salih Ağa in Paşmaklı, circa 1916. The palace complex, described as a unique architectural ensemble and the largest of its type on the Balkan- and Asia Minor territories of the Ottoman Empire by architect Matey Mateev in his work on the Middle Rhodopean architecture,32 was demolished in 1931 to open room for an army compound. (Courtesy of Peyo Kolev at lostbulgaria.com.)

30 Mateev, Konakŭt na Salih Ağa Pashmakliisky, 9. 31 Ibid., 15. 32 Ibid., 9. 228 chapter 6

Salih’s Family Tree

Salih Ağa was the grandson of Mehmed Kör Hoca (Hodzha), the first native governor of the Ahı Çelebi Kaza, who ruled from 1751 to his death in 1779. Between the sixteenth and eighteenth century, the Middle Rhodopes had been in the hands of outside and absentee landlords. The area acquired its name from Sultan Selim I’s personal doctor, Ahı Çelebi, who in 1519 received the Middle Rhodopes as a gift of personal estate from the sultan. The name survived until 1912, thereafter losing its significance within the newly independent Kingdom of Bulgaria. The imperial doctor dedicated the estate to the holy cities of Mecca and Medina.33 The vast vakıf (donated property), however, remained under the custodianship of Ahı Çelebi’s descendants until the early 1700s. After that, the political power vacuum in the Middle Rhodopes spilled into violent rivalry between several prominent local families, which destabilized the whole region. As the population grew tired of the chaos, they petitioned the Ottoman government to appoint a permanent governor in the kaza to institute stability. Mehmed Kör Hoca was among the most suitable candidates. He was a local and highly educated man, modest, relatively wealthy, and with a reputation for exceptional moral integrity. He also enjoyed the support of the majority Muslims and Christians in the area. Kör Hoca, however, put two conditions to accepting the governorship: (1) the office was to become hereditary, and (2) his capital township was to be Paşmaklı. In 1751, a ferman from Constantinople for- malized the appointment of Mehmed Kör Hoca as governor of the Ahı Çelebi Kaza, with Paşmaklı as his administrative center. According to Dechov, the population that came out to greet their new governor, as he was moving his household into Paşmaklı (from Chepelare), observed two unusual things:

a) whereas his children and servants were all clad lavishly, the new governor was dressed modestly, in very simple attire; b) the women of the household were not covered as Mohamedan [Muslim] women usually were, but bore open faces with only white scarves over their hair[.]34

Thus, the Kör Hoca family established themselves as the ruling dynasty of the Middle Rhodopes for nearly a century. According to both Dechov and Haytov, Kör Hoca’s governorship (1751–1779) indeed brought a measure of stability in

33 Dedicating a property is an Islamic tradition where private persons or entities donate property (normally land) to a religious body (e.g., mosque) which draws income from it by either renting it out or selling the produce from it to support itself. 34 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, 75. Preserving Historical Heritage 229 the region. It was Kör Hoca who also initiated the tradition of equitable treatment of Muslims and non-Muslims, a policy more or less institutionalized in the days of Salih Ağa. Hoca’s eldest son and heir, Süleyman Ağa (1779–1798) continued this non-discriminatory practice. Although a benevolent ruler, however, Süleyman lacked the charisma and determination of his father, Mehmed Kör Hoca, and heir, Salih Ağa.35 Süleyman Ağa had deeply personal reasons to extend benign treatment to the Christian population, too. According to Haytov, he married a Christian woman by the name Stana (or Maria), whom he unwearyingly courted before she responded to his feelings.36 This was a somewhat unusual demeanor for an Ottoman notable. Indeed, their standard portrayal in Bulgarian folklore is one of willful and violent characters who took by force what they fancied, including women. The reported behavior of Süleyman, though, defies this popular depiction. Not only did he wait for Stana to obtain her parents’ permission to marry him, but Süleyman was loath to polygamy, a tradition allowed by Islam. Süleyman had one wife at a time. After he was widowed from his first wife, mother of three of his sons—Salih, Mustafa (Adzhi), and Liman-Shishman— Süleyman married Stana-turned-Ayshe who mothered Brahom Bey, Süleyman’s fourth son. Although Haytov appears to be mistaken about Stana’s being the mother of all four of Süleyman’s sons, the author describes his marital situation in the following way:

Even before becoming governor, Süleyman was widowed and married a second time to a [Christian] woman from Raykovo—Stana, whom he met and fell in love with during harvest time at a place known as Rumin Preslop. Soon after the wedding, the family moved from Raykovo [now a Smolyan’s suburb] to Smolyan, where his [Süleyman’s] four sons were born: Salih, Liman Shishman, Brahom, and Mustafa later named Adzhi Ağa.37

35 Haytov, “Smolyan,” 18–31; Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96. According to Dechov’s Historical Diary, Kör Hoca (Hodzha) died in 1779 and was buried in the old Turkish cemetery next to the mosque and near the Imamov’s homestead in Raykovo (now a neighborhood of Smolyan). In 1924, when Dechov was compiling his Diary, the headstone marking the grave was still there. The inscription on it simply read: “Mehmed bin Isein 1779.” Dechov, Historical Diary, 6–7. (Also, see Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 75.) 36 In “Smolyan” Haytov talks about a woman named Maria, and in Rodopski vlastelini, he mentions Stana. 37 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 201. Based on Dechov’s note about Brahom Bey’s being from a different mother, as well as the Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv’s description of a 230 chapter 6

“Süleyman, like his father,” Dechov notes, “was educated, quiet, pious, kind- hearted, and a good caretaker, but for the demands of the time—not a good ruler.”38 During his reign of nineteen years, the internal strife for political dominance in the realm continued. When Süleyman died in 1798, his eldest son Salih Ağa succeeded him as governor of the Ahı Çelebi Kaza, retaining Paşmaklı as his capital town. Along with the leadership, however, Salih inherited the difficult task of ending the chaos that had been tearing the district apart. Ultimately, he would do just that.39 Like his father Süleyman, Salih had one wife. In fact, he was married to the same woman throughout his life, and history remembers her simply as Salihağovitsa (the wife of Salih Ağa). Together, they had two sons, Tahir Bey and Emin Bey, and at least four daughters. Salih’s sons jointly ruled the kaza for a brief period between 1842 and 1850. But none of the preceding or following governors of Ahı Çelebi would match the legendary Salih Ağa in popularity or accomplishments. Salih died in Gümürcina (Gumurdzhina) in the fall (the exact date is disputable, but Dechov points to September) of 1838, at the age of eighty.40

Salih, the Family Man

1 Mustafa, Adzhi Ağa Salih Ağa’s greatest supporter and enemy were within his family. As a family man he was blessed and cursed at the same time. He was blessed with a wife who, contrary to the traditions of his time and society, was his partner rather than just the woman who obediently served him and shared his bed. Salihağovitsa was her husband’s most trusted advisor in matters of marriage and family who, on her own initiative, took orphaned girls and destitute women into the household. Salihağovitsa rarely interfered with the governor’s political decisions, but when she did, he always heeded her opinion. Thus,

photograph that Stana was the mother of one of Süleyman’s sons, I am inclined to think that Haytov is in the wrong. 38 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 76. 39 Dechov, Historical Diary, 7. Süleyman died in Paşmaklı, and his headstone (Dechov does not clarify where he was buried, but probably in the same cemetery as his father) was destroyed in 1912–1913, when Bulgaria took control of the Rhodopes and launched a violent, but short-lived Christianization of the Muslim population. 40 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96; Dechov, Historical Diary, passim. Preserving Historical Heritage 231

Figure 6-4 Family Tree Partial Family Tree of Salih Ağa according to governorship of the Ahı Çelebi Kaza, as well as according to family connection of one of his indirect descendants and my interviewee, Melike Belinska.41

Salih was often heard saying: “All people in Ahı Çelebi obey my command, but in the konak only my wife’s orders count.”42 The governor, however, was also cursed with a mortal enemy, his own brother Mustafa, dubbed Adzhi, (or Adji, bitter, bad-tempered) because of his disposition to lawlessness. Salih and Mustafa were also brothers-in-law. Both were married to the daughters of the wealthy Mehmed Kehaya of Raykovo (now within Smolyan’s city limits) or Smilyan (a nearby village).43 In outer appearance, Haytov writes, “these two brothers—Mustafa the Bitter and Salih the Pure [as engraved on the governor’s seal, Figure 6-5],”

41 Dechov, Historical Diary, 1–10. Vassil Dechov incorporates most of his Historical Diary in Volume I of the book, Minaloto na Chepelare, 72–96; Mateev, Konakŭt na Salih Ağa Pashmakliisky, 20. I am particularly grateful to Ivan Terziev for helping me entangle Dechov’s handwritten family tree. Of the extensive family tree of the Kör Hodzha family, I only reconstruct the part related to Salih, as well as to Melike whom I met in person. 42 Dechov, Historical Diary, 19. 43 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 77. 232 chapter 6

looked very much alike: both were short in stature, very energetic, bearded, and both loved power. But in everything else, they were the total opposite. Adzhi Ağa was irascible and hot-tempered, and “would kill a person for no reason.” [While] Salih Ağa was sensible, calm, and with good judgment; he had an affinity for order, so he condemned his brother’s hayti for the crimes they committed and prosecuted them relentlessly[.]44

Ahı Çelebi Kaza Salih, Lord of Ahı Çelebi From the landowner, non-Muslim, /Seal on the back of the document/ is collected the tax “ispençe” May my deeds be as honorable as the name Salih /tax for landowning levied from is /“Pure one”/ non-Muslims/ Translated by: [Signature here] Lord Salih /Svetoslav Duhovnikov/ 1226 /Year 1810/ Note [by the translator]: This has been written by the hand of Salih Ağa, Lord and Governor of Ahı Çelebi, because of which I translated it.

Figure 6-5 A-b Salih Ağa’s Seal A document about a paid ispençe tax is signed by Salih in the following way: “May my deeds be as honorable as the name Salih is /Pure one/.”45

44 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 221. 45 The document is translated from Ottoman Turkish by Svetoslav Duhovnikov. Duhovnikov’s translation is enclosed under the actual text of the document, as well as under Salih’s seal on the back of it. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Smolyan, Fond 415k, Inventory 23, Archival Unit 52. Preserving Historical Heritage 233 looked very much alike: both were short in stature, very energetic, Indeed, Adzhi Ağa was hayta. In fact, he was so reviled by the local popula- bearded, and both loved power. But in everything else, they were the total tion for his licentiousness that Salih himself turned against his brother and opposite. Adzhi Ağa was irascible and hot-tempered, and “would kill a ultimately killed him. Between 1798 and 1806, Mustafa led his henchmen— person for no reason.” [While] Salih Ağa was sensible, calm, and with good an assortment of Muslim and Christian mercenaries—against some of the judgment; he had an affinity for order, so he condemned his brother’s most prosperous settlements in and around the Rhodopes, ravaging towns hayti for the crimes they committed and prosecuted them relentlessly[.]44 and villages and leaving destitute populations behind. Initially, Adzhi Ağa was very careful to conceal his exploits from the governor, but as he accumulated wealth, his arrogance grew. Around 1798–1799, “the Bitter” and his cohorts plundered two of the wealthiest towns in the region, Gümürcina (now in northern Greece) and Stanimaka (modern-day Assenovgrad in Bulgaria). The public outcry was so great that the imperial government in Constantinople responded with a ferman for the capture and execution of Adzhi Ağa. Thereafter, Mustafa was on the run as a wanted criminal. Whereas they could comfortably hide in the impregnable Rhodopean forests for most of the year, the life of fugitives became intolerable for Adzhi and his companions in the harshness of the winter. Without the promise of pillaging and enrichment, most of the hayti gradually abandoned Mustafa Adzhi Ağa. Finally, alone and beaten, he clandestinely surrendered to the governor. Banking on Salih’s brotherly love, Adzhi anticipated to be quickly forgiven and spared the execution.46 Relying on oral history, Haytov envisions the scene of the surrender in the following way:

– “Come brother! Where have you been—starving, cold, and eaten by lice?”—Salih received Adzhi Ağa with audible excitement in his voice. Adzhi approached weeping. With eyes cast down, he answered: – “Brother, if I deserve to be shot, you shoot me. If I deserve to be hanged, you hang me. If I deserve to be beaten to death, you do it. If I deserve to be pardoned, you pardon me. But do not hand me over to my enemies.” – “Come, come brother! Don’t be afraid!”—Salih Ağa cajoled, deeply moved by his brother’s despondent appearance.47 Figure 6-5 A-b Salih Ağa’s Seal A document about a paid ispençe tax is signed by Salih in the following way: Indeed, the governor hid his fugitive brother in a secret chamber of the “May my deeds be as honorable as the name Salih is /Pure one/.”45 konak, where the floor was strewn with thick carpets and soft pillows. A servant-woman, Sofa, was assigned to take care of his every need (and/or Salih’s own daughter Fatme did that, in another version of the story). According to Haytov, Adzhi was changed and bathed several times a day to rid him of the 44 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 221. 45 The document is translated from Ottoman Turkish by Svetoslav Duhovnikov. Duhovnikov’s translation is enclosed under the actual text of the document, as well as under Salih’s 46 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96; Dechov, Historical Diary, passim; Haytov, seal on the back of it. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Smolyan, Fond 415k, Inventory 23, Rodopski vlastelini, 197–234; Haytov, “Smolyan”, 18–31. Archival Unit 52. 47 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 226–227. 234 chapter 6 lice and filth he had brought in from living in the woods. Reportedly, only Salih, Salihağovitsa, Sofa (or Salih’s daughter Fatme, in another version), and the governor’s trusted secretary Abdullah Effendi knew of Mustafa’s true where- abouts. Under good care and abundant food, Adzhi Ağa was able to recover quickly. With strength and confidence regained, however, his lust for power and plunder returned. In the passing days, Salih agonized over what to do with his brother, the outlaw. He could not pardon the hayta. To set him free would compromise Salih’s own position as governor and bring further suffering to many who would inevitably became victims of Adzhi’s inclination to lawlessness. So, Salih did the only thing he could: bought his time and waited. His sense of honor certainly prevented the governor from betraying or killing his own brother. But Salih’s uneasy dilemma soon resolved itself.48 One day, Sofa, who took care of Adzhi Ağa, informed Salihağovitsa that while cleaning Adzhi’s room she discovered a pistol under his pillow. “But how had Mustafa acquired a weapon?”—she pondered—“And what did he need it for in the first place? Was he distrustful of his own brother or was he planning something sinister?” Salihağovitsa shared her misgivings with Salih Ağa. The latter, however—according to popular lore—promptly dismissed the warning as “Women’s drivel!”,49 and went about his usual business. Several days later, the governor was returning home from an inspection of his nearby fields. As he rode through the gates on his horse and into the inner courtyard of the konak, someone shot at him, but narrowly missed. Frantic commotion ensued in the konak immediately. While women and children were screaming, soldiers were running about the premises and taking defensive positions. With no more shots to be heard, however, a sort of tense normality slowly returned to the konak, and an investigation began. Who shot at the governor? Where did the shooting come from? Why? Soon, it was clear that the gunfire came from the direction of Adzhi Ağa’s secret chamber. Salih suddenly recalled his wife’s warning of a pistol. Finally, he realized that Adzhi Ağa—his own brother—had just attempted to assassinate him.50 Instead of succumbing to a momentary rage, however, Salih took his time in dealing with the hayta. Initially, he ordered that all articles of comfort be removed from his room. While leaving Adzhi without food and drink for eight days, the governor “aimlessly walked from room to room, pulling hairs out of his beard, weeping,” and lamenting how blindly he had kept “a snake in his bosom.” In his frustration, Salih repeatedly called on the guards to kill “the dog

48 Ibid., 226–231. 49 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 127. 50 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 226–231. Preserving Historical Heritage 235 dishonoring my house.” However, none of the soldiers dared to act on words uttered in emotional distress. After a time, when Salih inquired as to why they had ignored his pleas, Strahin (according to Petŭr Marinov), his lieutenant, answered: “Today he may be your enemy, but tomorrow he would be your brother again. You would have blamed us for his death.”51 Thus, Salih had to deal with his family problem on his own. Salih and Mustafa were more than full-blood brothers. They had wed the daughters of the same mother. Their mother-in-law, however, did not share the same fondness of both brothers. She hated “the Bitter” and advised Salih Ağa to get rid of him, even though one of her own flesh and blood had born at least four sons to Adzhi Ağa. According to Petŭr Marinov, she spoke the following words of advice to Salih Ağa, at a juncture where neither Salih’s trusted Secretary Abdullah Effendi nor his beloved wife had—or rather dared not offer—any for him:

Ağa! That dog will finish you. The dog has gone mad. One of you will die while he lives. That mustn’t be you! Your children are mostly female [Salih had two sons and four (?) daughters] and they will need their protector. He should die! His children are male. They can take care of themselves. This much I can tell you.52

As the days went by following the assassination attempt, Salih’s frustration subdued but his anger intensified. Not only did he offer compassionate protection to his deviant brother, who had only done harm, but Adzhi Ağa had raised a gun against his own brother and benefactor. Salih finally determined that Adzhi should die. And since no one else would kill him, the governor had to do it himself. Salih was now fully aware that, while Adzhi lived, no one was safe, least of all himself and his children. Neither would the Ottoman authorities or the local population be pleased to have him freed. So, one day, Salih resolutely walked in Mustafa’s confinement chamber and shot him dead. “My children won’t be orphans on your account, but yours will!”—he reportedly said before walking out “pale and shaking.”53 Despite this fully justified execution of his brother—already officially condemned to death by a ferman on which he, as governor, was obligated to act— Salih did not take Adzhi Ağa’s death lightly. Deeply affected by the murder,

51 Ibid., 227–228. The same answer, worded differently, is reported by Vassil Dechov and Petŭr Marinov as well. 52 Marinov, 22. 53 Haytov, Rodopski vlastelini, 228. 236 chapter 6

Salih mounted his favorite horse, and issuing a warning that no one should follow him, stormed out of the konak in the direction of a nearby stream. Because it was spring time, the mountain snow caps were melting and causing the stream to swell. Lost in distress and obviously unaware of his surround- ings, the governor thrust his horse straight into the raging water. When the frightened animal stood up on his hind legs, refusing to step in, mindless of his actions, Salih took out his gun and shot his beloved horse to death. The very next moment, both horse and rider collapsed into the river—the horse already dead and Salih very much struggling for his life. Finally back to his senses, the man who had just killed his brother managed to pull himself out of the water. On the river bank, the distraught Salih sat on a rock and “wept like a child.”54 What was he weeping about? His horse, his false brother, or both? About the people whose good he put before his personal wellbeing but who were never satisfied? About the fact that he needed to protect his life from his own family? Thus, it came to pass that in 1806, Mustafa, the hayta, died from the hand of his brother Salih. According to Dechov, Adzhi was outlived by five sons—Süleyman, Emin, Brahom, Hassan, and Isein—who vowed to avenge their father’s death. Ultimately, they, among others, would take an active part in bringing about Salih’s downfall more than thirty years later. 55

2 Salihağovitsa (the Wife of Salih Ağa)

In a short segment titled “Historical Note” and attached to the play Salih Ağa, Petŭr Marinov describes the governor in terms remarkably in sync with Dechov and Haytov’s depiction of him:

Salih Ağa was strict, energetic, often hotheaded, but perfectly fair, kind- hearted, insightful, and generous person. The population saw in him an uncompromising arbiter of justice with nothing escaping his attention. He was particularly concerned with family values, unforgiving toward polygamy, infidelity and lewdness. Furthermore, not only did he tolerate other faiths [other than Islam], but also treated Muslims and Christians on a completely equitable basis. It was during his time that the overwhelming majority of churches were built in the region [Ahı Çelebi]. The only thing that the population was unhappy about during his rule was that he frequently conscripted people’s labor in the construction of roads, arched bridges, buildings, water fountains and aqueducts, as well

54 Ibid. 55 Dechov, Historical Diary, 1. Preserving Historical Heritage 237

as for work on his private estate.56 They also did not like the governor’s intrusions in their private lives, often coercing people into reluctant marriages [emphasis added].57

Salih’s greatest supporter, most valued advisor, and the architect of many of his moral “intrusions” was his wife. As strong as her presence beside her husband is, history never recorded her own name. She is simply known as Salihağovitsa, the wife of Salih Ağa. This should come as no surprise considering the Islamic tradition of addressing women as their son’s mothers or their husband’s wives, and not by their personal name per se. According to the oral testimonies collected by Dechov, Salihağovitsa “was a good woman . . . lively, tidy, with very strong moral values, merciful, and pious. She was devoted to Salih Ağa and respectful of his will as a ruler, but she ran her household as a full-fledged mis- tress. Salih never interfered in her household business. . . . [She] was very charitable . . . helped the poor . . . especially girls and orphaned children, without regard to their faith. However, she was particularly good to Christian women.”58 When Dechov describes Salihağovitsa as “particularly good” to Christian women—and generally women in vulnerable position—he speaks with two things in mind. First, Salihağovitsa’s own mother—the same who advised Salih to kill Adzhi Ağa—was a Christian convert to Islam following her marriage to Mehmed Kehaya. Second, the author refers to a specific event, when Salihağovitsa’s involvement proved crucial in saving several enslaved women. When the Greek rebellion broke out on the Halkidiki (Medenköyleri) Peninsula in 1821, Salih was ordered to send troops to help quell the uprising. The gover- nor dispatched his lieutenant Agush Ağa to—what is today—northern Greece with a small force to assist the regular troops. Agush not only fought the rebels, but also managed to plunder a few townships and to enslave several Greek Christian girls, whom he smuggled into Paşmaklı.59 Enraged by his lieutenant’s actions, but—above all—urged by his wife, Salih denounced Agush for his lawlessness, appointed Strahin in his stead, and sent his new deputy to retrieve the enslaved women; by force if necessary. Agush surrendered his “bounty,” but from that day on he became Salih’s sworn enemy. Salihağovitsa

56 Marinov makes sure to explain that Salih provided abundant food, drink, and respite to his workers. He was often heard saying that nothing could be done on empty stomach and tired limbs (Marinov, 87). 57 Marinov, 87 (“Historical Note”). 58 Dechov, Historical Diary, 23–27. 59 Under Shari’a, slavery was a legitimate institution. 238 chapter 6 took the women under her protection.60 Upon joining the household, “these girls,” Dechov writes in his Diary, “were encouraged to practice their Christian faith freely, and Salih [and his wife] married all of them to Christian men from the area. All wedding expenses, gifts, and dowry were paid by Salih Ağa and his wife (the grandmother of Priest Atanass P. Raychev from Paşmaklı was one of these slave girls). . . . Salihağovitsa took under her protection all vulnerable Christian girls she came across. . . . They treated her as their mother.”61 In a scene of the play, Salih Ağa (Figures 6-6 and 6-7), Petŭr Marinov wonder- fully recreates the atmosphere of Salih and Salihağovitsa’s marriage arrangement of one of their foster-daughters, Kalina, to Manol:62

Salih Ağa: Whose son are you? Manol: Niko Gulumekhovski’s son from Peshtera63 . . . Salih Ağa: What brings you here? Manol: I left my fiancée and came to tell you about it. . . . Salih Ağa: You left her?! What does that mean? Don’t you know that I disapprove of such frivolities in my realm!? Do you wish to be thrown down the Gorge? Manol: Ah . . . the Gorge. I know all about the Gorge. That’s why I came to tell you. Do with me as you will. Salih Ağa: I do not like such things. What’s going to happen to that poor girl now? Have you thought about that? Why did you leave her in the first place? Manol: I caught her with another man. That’s why I left her. Salih Ağa: Well, well, well! What am I supposed to do with you then?!

60 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 86–87; Dechov, Historical Diary, 23–27; Haytov, “Smolyan”, 26–27. 61 Dechov, Historical Diary, 23–27. 62 In a footnote, Dechov explains that Kalina and her sister Rakshina are real women, who belonged to the family of Hasŭmovi from Dereköy—now the village of Sokolovtsi—both of them raised and married by Salih Ağa’s wife to men from the towns of Peshtera and Smolyan respectively. Kalina is the great grandmother of one Priest Nikola Manolov from the village of Chokmanovo, whom Marinov probably knew in person (Dechov, 6). 63 In another footnote, Marinov adds that Manol was the grandfather of Manol the Painter from Peshtera, father of Nikola and Petŭr Manolov, both priests (Dechov, 19). Preserving Historical Heritage 239

Salihağovitsa to Salih privately: It will be a pity, Salih Ağa, for this young man to die. He is so young and handsome. Also, he came here to tell you about it on his own. That proves he doesn’t lie . . . Salih Ağa: That’s exactly why I worry. If I let him go without punishment, everyone will say: “Salih Ağa has grown soft . . .” Everybody knows I do business with his father! . . . I don’t want to be accused of favoritism. What should I do? Salihağovitsa: No one will judge you ill. Let him live. Here is what I think. Salih Ağa: What? Salihağovitsa: Since he has no fiancée, let’s marry him to our Kalina. This will put an end to any talk. She is a good and hard-working girl. They are both young . . . What do you say? Salih Ağa: Sounds good to me. Salihağovitsa: Her dowry is ready and it’s time to let her go. . . . Salih Ağa to Manol: Since you left your fiancée, won’t you take our Kalina? All will be good that way. She is a servant of ours, but my wife keeps her as one of our own daughters. She has a good dowry . . . What do you say? Manol: If I like her, I might . . . Salih Ağa: Allah, Allah! Do you think I’d purposely tie you to someone bad? . . . Salihağovitsa to Manol: Come, come with me [takes him to meet Kalina].64

This story has a happy ending, both in the play and in real life. Apparently, Kalina and Manol liked each other well enough to marry (or Manol simply had no choice). In due time, Kalina gave birth to her first child, a boy. In another scene of the play, Kalina visits Salihağovitsa in the konak accompanied by her newborn son. Marinov puts the two women in an intimate mother-daughter setting, wherein Kalina behaves in the manner of a dutiful daughter coming to her parents’ home to share the joys of parenthood.65

64 Marinov, 19–22. 65 Ibid., 31. 240 chapter 6

Figure 6-6 Scene from the Play Salih Ağa Scene from the play Salih Ağa by Petŭr Marinov, where the photographer Krum Savov and his wife take the roles of Salih Ağa (sitting) and his wife (standing), 1938: Salih Ağa and Salihağovitsa dynamically discussing some issue of importance. Oral history portrays Salih’s wife as his most important advisor, particularly in family matters. (Courtesy of Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv.)66

Salih, the Public Man

As Petŭr Marinov remarks, Salih built many “roads, arched bridges, buildings, water fountains and aqueducts” during his governorship. Most importantly, however, “[i]t was during his [Salih’s] time that the overwhelming majority of [Christian] churches were built in . . . [Ahı Çelebi].”67 As far as Dechov is concerned, “all” churches in the region were constructed at Salih’s bidding.68 To that effect, the historian writes:

The first church was built in [the village of] Chokmanovo . . . To gain a permit to erect the church, several dignitaries from Chokmanovo, led by Stoyan Kehaya, appeared before Salih Ağa. They asked Salih to help

66 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, The Petar Marinov Collection, Fond 959k, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 243 (Photo-collection). 67 Marinov, 87 (“Historical Note”). 68 Dechov, Historical Diary, 7 (10). Preserving Historical Heritage 241

Figure 6-7 Scene from the Play Salih Ağa Scene from the play Salih Ağa by Petŭr Marinov, with Krum Savov and his wife in the roles of Salih Ağa and his wife (sitting), 1938: Salih Ağa adjudicates on Manol’s case, with Salihağovitsa naturally sitting beside him, in the role of advisor. (The Inventory of The Petŭr Marinov Collection, in possession of the Dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, annotates many pieces of correspondence where people requested to see the play in their towns or villages.) (Courtesy of Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv.)69

them obtain ferman [royal permit] for the construction of the church. Salih Ağa agreed to help them, but said: “Do not build the church too big or on too prominent a site, for it would attract a lot of unwanted attention and . . . [unread words].” The dignitaries agreed to select an unobtru- sive location for the church, but asked if they may build it larger so it could accommodate the growing [Christian] population . . . Salih advised them to apply for a ferman indicating smaller arshins70 for the church, but when building it to make it wider and taller to meet their needs.71 Obviously, the stratagem suggested by Salih worked. The Christians of Chokmanovo had their church consecrated in the year 1835.72

69 Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, The Petar Marinov Collection, Fond 959k, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 243 (Photo-collection). 70 An old measuring unit, which most internet sites calculate at approximately 28 inches. 71 Dechov, Historical Diary, 7 (10–11). 72 Ibid., (10). 242 chapter 6

But not only churches had their desired purpose. The availability of good roads and bridges in the difficult terrain of the Rhodopes was vitally important for facilitating transportation, business, and defense. Thus, it was Salih who commissioned the construction of key transportation arteries connecting Paşmaklı to other important townships in the Rhodopes and beyond. Among those were the roads Paşmaklı-Chepelare, Paşmaklı-Shiroka Lŭka, and Paşmaklı-Tozburun-Cheresha-Arda which remain major connecting lines to this day.73 What the population did not like, however, was that they had to provide their free labor for the making of these roads, and for most projects of public significance. In keeping with the traditions of his time, Salih simply conscripted the local population when the construction or maintenance of aqueducts, bridges, and roads were deemed necessary for public use. However, the governor made sure to provide ample food, drink, and rest for the laborers.74 While nearly immaculate in most ways, Salih was prone to despotism when it came to—what he saw as—advancing the public good. Ultimately, he forced his will on the population when building public infrastructure for much the same reasons as he administered severe punishment or arranged marriages: Because he believed that it was his responsibility as governor to cater to the common—not the individual or self—interest in Ahı Çelebi. The words which Marinov ascribes to him in a candid conversation with his wife most truthfully capture Salih’s philosophy of government:

Well! It’s not easy to look after the welfare of the people for forty years and keep everybody happy. . . . How am I supposed to treat them [the people]!? My whole life I have tried to do them good. . . . Listen, all! While my human strength permits, I will enforce order. I will not let things slip out of control. I am the Vizier here. I am the King [emphasis added].75

The Death of Salih Ağa

The Ahı Çelebi Kaza was in close proximity to Greece, which declared its sovereignty from the Ottoman Empire in 1828, following a turbulent decade of rebellions. Because Salih displayed an unusual autonomy in his government of Ahı Çelebi and was sympathetic to the plight of the Bulgarian Christians, it was not difficult for his enemies to incriminate him in disloyalty to the imperial

73 Ibid., (10–11). 74 Marinov, 87 (“Historical Note”). 75 Ibid., 59. Preserving Historical Heritage 243

Figure 6-8 The Sycamore in Smolyan This tree is the center-point of a small square that was the site of many public events such as dances, meetings, and various other occasions calling for large congregations of people during Salih’s time (June 2007). In his Diary, Dechov writes: He [Salih] placed an order with a peddler—a Walachian from Yanina—to bring and plant in Paşmaklı a sycamore tree—Chinar. The sycamore was brought by Sharya Shaban and planted next to the water fountain and the mosque of Paşmaklı. The sycamore—90–100 year-old [in 1924?]—exists to this day. This magnificent tree . . . [unread words] . . . along with the water fountain, is the town’s most beautiful decoration.76 government. Because of Greece’s independence, the already paranoid sultanic regime speedily dispatched a ferman to the superior governor of Gümürcina (Gumurdzhina), Emin Bey, authorizing Salih Ağa’s arrest and execution for treason. Aware of Salih’s popularity and his ability to muster resistance, however, Emin Bey resorted to deception. Instead of openly detaining Salih Ağa, he concocted a plan to invite the aging governor to Gümürcina to purportedly hand him royal tokens of recognition for a long and exemplary service to the empire. But the eighty-year-old seasoned ruler of Ahı Çelebi distrusted Emin Bey, and with good reason.77

76 Dechov, Historical Diary, 8 (12–13). 77 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 72–96; Haytov, “Smolyan”, 18–31. 244 chapter 6

Emin Bey was cunning and, more importantly, hated Salih Ağa for the latter’s persistent failure to bow to his authority as a higher imperial administrator. When the ferman for Salih’s execution was received in Gümürcina, Emin knew that he could not simply arrest the popular Rhodopean lord. He was determined, however, to carry out the order one way or another. Both Dechov and Haytov recount the story of Emin Bey’s dishonest scheming to that effect. He sent not soldiers, but standard horse couriers to deliver a letter to Salih, urg- ing him to immediately depart for Gümürcina in order to receive the honorary distinctions of the Great Divan (the Ottoman government).78 Emin Bey sent the following letter to the governor of Ahı Çelebi:

To the Great Lord and Governor of Ahı Çelebi KARAHOCOĞLU SALIH AĞA SON OF SÜLEYMAN of Paşmaklı Glorious and Just Lord,

The news has arrived from the Great Divan [Divanı Kebir], the source of all goodness, that our magnificent King Abdul Mecid Khan has bestowed gifts and honors upon you for so many years of immaculate service in governing the people of Ahı Çelebi. Your tokens of honor and gifts have been sent to my domain in Gümürcina. This is why I appeal to you, Great Lord, to leave immediately, travel swiftly day and night, and appear personally before me to receive them. I look forward to seeing you soon and to embracing you, my brother.

EMIN BEY Governor of Gümürcina79

Despite the flattery, Salih had misgivings about this invitation. In fact, Vassil Dechov attributes the following words to the governor who confided into his loyal secretary Ismail (rather, Abdullah Effendi) before leaving for Gümürcina: “I am old and life is no longer so dear to me. I will go, and whatever has to come,

78 A scarlet garment and necklace, according to the remarkable ballad the people of Ahı Çelebi later composed about Salih, (Appendix 6.1). 79 A Bulgarian-translated facsimile of the original letter, preserved in Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, The Petŭr Marinov Collection, Fond 959(k?), Inventory 1, Archival Unit 1039. Preserving Historical Heritage 245 will come.”80 Salih Ağa had no choice, but to go. If he opted not to do so, his demeanor could have been interpreted as insurrection and the repercussions for his family and the people of Ahı Çelebi would have been tragic. From the way Dechov narrates the governor’s final hours, it will be safe to conclude that Salih Ağa consciously put his life on the line to avert potentially more disastrous consequences for the kaza, provoked by suspicions of rebellion.81 Emin Bay provided a royal welcome to Salih Ağa in Gümürcina.82 Aware of Gümürcina’s proximity to Salih’s stronghold Ahı Çelebi and Istanbul’s relative remoteness, Emin still feared Salih’s ability to rally popular support in his defense. Were Salih to ignite uprising in an already combustible environment, Emin could lose both his governorship and his head. The lavish welcome had the purpose to deceive, and it succeeded. Salih gradually relaxed and, feeling safe enough, he sent his security escort back to Ahı Çelebi, with the exception of five to ten personal guards. With that, the opportune moment came for Emin Bey to strike. Salih Ağa occupied a bedroom at the upper levels of Emin Bey’s konak, while his bodyguards, including his lieutenant Stahin, were deliberately accommodated on the ground floor, away from the governor. Thus separated from his only friends in Gümürcina, the elderly Salih became an easy target. One evening, two assassins snuck in his bedroom and strangled the sleeping man with a piece of leather cord. According to a different version, Salih was strangled not during the night, but in broad daylight after walking out of a conference with Emin Bey in the latter’s private chamber.83 Whereas it is difficult to ascertain which the correct version of events is, both storylines seem plausible. With his typical attention to details, though, Dechov records that Salih Ağa was buried in the Turkish cemetery by the Polipoli (or Poshposh) River, west of Gümürcina. Later on, his sons Emin Bey84 and Tahir Bey marked their father’s grave with a headstone, on which they inscribed the leather cord that cut his life short. When, in 1924, Dechov recorded an entry in his Historical Diary, he remarked that the headstone was still there.85 If the author means that he actually saw the stone for himself, then it is at least certain that Salih was strangled by a leather cord.

80 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 88. 81 Ibid., 72–96. 82 Ibid., 88. 83 Dechov, Historical Diary, 13–15 (23–27). 84 In addition to title (governor), “bey” was also the accepted form of addressing higher- ranking Ottoman officials. 85 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 88; Dechov, Historical Diary, 24–25. 246 chapter 6

Whatever the actual circumstances of his demise, Salih never returned to his beloved Rhodopes. His days ended in Gümürcina sometime in the fall of 1838 because of the cunning of Emin Bey. The governor of Gümürcina murdered Salih Ağa as much in compliance with the order for his execution as in satisfaction of his personal resentment for the lord of Ahı Çelebi.86 As Dechov specifies, though, the story of Salih’s murder was reported to him, among others, by the governor’s own grandson Mehmedali Tahirbey. Salih’s remaining guards fled Gümürcina after the governor’s strangulation and carried the news of his tragic end to Paşmaklı. Deep was the despair and frustration of all who depended on Salih Ağa for protection of life, property, and welfare. Not only was Salih’s family now vulnerable to confiscation of property and general willful abuse, but so were his servicemen, and—above all—the poor Christian and Muslim peasantry, shielded from violent arbitrariness solely by Salih’s personal integrity and political power. Dechov describes the general mood following his death:

The news about the killing of Salih Ağa produced a shocking effect on the entire Middle-Rhodopean population. Some were scared, because they did not know what to expect next, others rejoiced, yet third genuinely mourned their governor. But most of all mourned the people of Chepelare and Smolyan, because they lost their best protector and benefactor.87

After Salih’s assassination, Emin Bey dispatched bureaucrats and troops to Ahı Çelebi in order to contain potential turmoil and to take control of everything that the governor’s family possessed. By the time they arrived, however, Salih’s older son Emin Bey ordered all the women and children of the household, including servants, to leave the konak, each taking out whatever they could hide in their clothes. This way, the smaller and more valuable possessions were hastily hidden away in various places. When the Gümürcina bureaucrats arrived, they claimed the konak and what was left in it, sealing off all rooms and inventorying every item. All that belonged to Salih Ağa was duly confiscated, his honor soiled, and his offspring barred from public office. One of Salih’s kinsmen and bitter enemies, Agush, who brought about the accusation of treason, managed to secure the appointment of his own sons as joint rulers of Ahı Çelebi, with himself as their political advisor. This state of affairs continued only until 1842, a little over three years. By then, Salih’s sons,

86 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 87. 87 Ibid., 88. Preserving Historical Heritage 247

Emin Bey and Tahir Bey—tirelessly petitioning every friendly ear in Edirne88 and Istanbul and evoking Salih’s immaculate reputation—had restored their father’s good name, reclaiming possession of their property, and reestablishing their family’s authority.89 But the sovereign reign of the Kör Hoca (Hodzha) dynasty was over. Emin Bey did eventually succeed his father Salih as gover- nor of Ahı Çelebi, but the Ottoman authorities also appointed a kadi (administrative judge)—an ethnic Turk from Constantinople—alongside, with the authority to countermand Emin’s decisions. In effect, this was a measure of preventing Salih’s heirs from reestablishing their father’s absolute control of the kaza. Scared by Greece’s successful bid for independence just a decade earlier, the Ottoman state was determined not to permit a regional ruler to grow strong; no matter how small hierarchically he was. The population of Ahı Çelebi, however, took immediate and irrevocable dislike to the Turkish kadi, because “he was arrogant, corrupt, and most importantly could not speak Ahren language [the local Slavic dialect].”90 Popular determination to get rid of him provoked an anonymous individual to sneak in the kadi’s sleeping quarters one night and to set his bed on fire. The kadi burned along with his house. The authorities blamed the murder on Emin Bey, Salih Ağa’s successor, who was forced to resign from the office of governor by 1850. The distinguished and widely liked Isein Zhurnal—native of Paşmaklı and a kinsman of Salih’s lieutenant Strahin—received the imperial appointment as the next chief administrator of Ahı Çelebi. Wary of allowing the power back into the hands of another local person, however, the authorities in Constantinople and Gümürcina implicated Isein Bey in the kadi’s murder as well. In the course of a few years following his appointment, in 1856, the Ottoman government tried, convicted, and effectively imprisoned Isein Bey. From then on and until 1912–1913, when Bulgaria permanently took control of most of the Rhodopes, Ahı Çelebi was governed by deliberately appointed outside administrators, titled kaymakam.91 The Kör Hoca dynasty ruled Ahı Çelebi for over one hundred years and Salih Ağa’s reign was the golden age in the Ottoman history of the Middle Rhodopes. The archives of Salih Ağa, which would have been a valuable source of Rhodopean history, survived until 1912 when the invading Bulgarian troops

88 The Ahı Çelebi Kaza was part of the Edirne Vilayet (larger province) of the Ottoman Empire. 89 Dechov, 95. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibid., 95–96. 248 chapter 6 plundered the konak, taking away or obliterating most of what was left in it, including written records.92 This destruction, in conjunction with Salih’s pref- erence to conduct his gubernatorial affairs mostly orally, rather than in writing, accounts for the sad fact that very few records bearing Salih’s authentic mark survive today. “After the death of Salih Ağa,” Dechov concludes the family’s saga, “the Kör Hoca offspring developed a liking for alcohol and gradually sank into poverty and insignificance. But all the way until 1913, most of these descendants of an illustrious dynasty had preserved the physical and character traits of noble, intelligent, kindly, and virtuous lords.”93

Conclusion: Salih Ağa’s Heritage

Salih Ağa was a remarkable person who not only brought stability to Ahı Çelebi in trying times for the Ottoman Empire, but also established a social order of a new type—one that permitted equality between Muslims and Christians despite Shari’a. As Nikolay Haytov sums it, the governor’s most remarkable legacy lies in “the fact that he elevated the status of the Christians to that of the Muslims in both civil and political matters . . . [which] provided the former with the opportunity . . . to amass wealth surpassing the latter in all respect. From servants and bondsmen of the Yuruks [(a community of stockbreed- ers)], they [the Christians] became owners of vast herds of sheep, pastures, forests, and land.”94 Nevertheless, the heritage of Salih Ağa remains obscure and unrecognized in the local public history of Bulgaria to this day. Even Haytov, a writer well-known for promoting restrictive Bulgarian nationalism, finds this neglect detrimental to the national cultural narrative, albeit within the jingoistic discourse of bad Muslimness and good Bulgarianness. In his paper, “Smolyan: Three Pinnacles in the History of the Middle Rhodopes,” he concludes the section on Salih Ağa with the following monologue that best illustrates the complexity of the issue:

“Celebrated?” Can we define him [Salih Ağa] as such? While some [Bulgarian academics] quiescently accept this, others are silent, and third straightforwardly reject it. Was Salih Ağa not the overlord, the feudal, and the appointed tyrant of the Sultan? Did he not

92 Dechov, Historical Diary, 15 (26–27). 93 Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare, Volume I, 96. 94 Haytov, “Smolyan,” 27. Preserving Historical Heritage 249

wear the fez, and was he not the one who condemned and hanged? Should we let him in the upper echelons of Bulgarian history in his tyrant’s armor? “No! Let him stay in the basement, in the dusty corner, where is the proper place for all reactionary feudal trash.” But how can we let that happen, when it is a matter of fact that Salih Ağa equalized Christians with Muslims, expurgating the very concept of “rayah”95 during his reign, and, by doing so, broke away from the practice of all preceding and following rulers, for which he ultimately paid with his life! . . . Why can’t we see that Salih Ağa obstructed Muslimness in all its forms—polygamy, “Turkization,” and depravity, preserving the traditional Bulgarian morality? Why should we deny that his archaic justice brought peace and order in society a hundred times more effectively than any formal justice system, as well as nurtured agricultural development and economic prosperity? Why? Because he is a feudal tyrant? An Ottoman governor? Is it possible to demand of him—a product of his time—to outgrow his age and become—let’s say—a partisan of the Bulgarian [independence] cause? As a ruler of Ahı Çelebi, he has done more for the preservation of Bulgarianness in Smolyan than a hundred [of our] patriots. Facts! Does it not suffice to mention that during the April Uprising [the 1876 pro-independence uprising] not a single shot was fired against a Bulgarian [Christian] in Smolyan? If there were a Salih Ağa in Devin or Chepino to curb the Muslim fanaticism, there would have been no burning of Perushtitsa, and no massacre in Batak. The reign of Salih Ağa opened the way for the [Bulgarian] renaissance in the Middle Rhodopes . . . But Salih Ağa ended with a loop around his neck! And if this last, bloody evidence is not enough [to give him the due respect], then all further words will be in vain [emphasis added].96

Yet, Salih Ağa—the Pomak governor of the Ottoman kaza of Ahı Çelebi—is gaining momentum in the rising discourse of Pomak heritage in Bulgaria. Because of the contentious nature of Pomak identity in the national discourse,

95 A term that literaly translates as “the flock” and refered to the totality of Ottoman subjects, both Muslim and Christian. However, in the nineteenth century, the age of nationalism in the Balkans, the term rayah was improperly interpreted to mean “non-Muslims,” that is, second-class people, the “oppressed” subjects of the sulan. 96 Haytov, “Smolyan”, 30. 250 chapter 6 the Muslim Rhodopean community has been stranded on a precarious crossroad with no real sense of self that is reflective of the people’s own understanding of past and present. Since the time of their first comprehensive pokrŭstvane of 1912–1913, the Pomaks have been consistently told to think of themselves as descendants of forcibly Islamized Bulgarians, whose primary patriotic duty is to return to their “true” identity. Even today, if they stray but a little from the prescribed identity and claim, for instance, a distinct Pomak heritage, this unleashes an avalanche of resentment and indignation by patriotic citizens and institutions.97 Challenges to any aspect of—what has become—the established history of the Bulgarian nation is likely to be met with overt hostility and aggression. Finding a way out of negative emotions and devising common grounds for the discussion of sensitive heritage issues, therefore, is paramount to a constructive public discourse. Salih Ağa, the man who cared equally for the wellbeing of Muslim and Christian communities within his realm more than 170 years ago, may be able to offer just such shared platform. As Ivan Terziev, my (Christian) friend and host in Smolyan, said to me in the context of further- ing the Rhodopean cultural tourism, Salih’s legacy could be a potent factor in uniting the cultural interpretation of Rhodopean heritage to the benefit of all: Christians, Muslims, and tourists. While the formal acknowledgement and celebration of Salih’s legacy in Smolyan would immensely please the local Pomak community, it will also open the discussion of currently sensitive issues per- taining to the Ottoman past, including Pomak identity, thereby enriching local history and attracting cultural tourists to the region. Salih Ağa may be revived in many ways to benefit tourism and the public discourse, including via academic and fictional writing, reconstruction of his konak as a heritage site, and/ or formally attaching his name to such places as The Waterfall of Smolyan (The Gorge of Salih Ağa) to turn it into a tourist hotspot. My own tribute to Salih Ağa—and the local Pomak heritage through him—is this narrative of his life as reflected in oral history and recorded by Vassil Dechov, Nikolay Haytov, and Petŭr Marinov. Albeit neglected by orthodox history, Salih of Paşmaklı is very much alive in vernacular memory and available to inspire the common grounds for a new, shared Rhodopean heritage. Ultimately, I brought Salih’s story to light not only because he is the forgotten local hero, but also—and mostly—to point to the fact that Pomak history merits academic exploration. Not only is it littered with fascinating individuals (and events) like Salih Ağa, but it could also be a veritable boon for a diverse body of scholars, including ethnographers, cultural geographers,

97 Read the example with Baleva and Brunnbauer’s attempt to offer an alternative reading of the Batak massacre in footnote 28 of this chapter. Preserving Historical Heritage 251 micro-historians, folklorists, cultural anthropologists, and scholars of nationalism. Because of the long history of cultural suppression, however, much of the Pomak past has been obliterated with vital consequences for the availability of standard historical evidence. Thus, future scholastic devotees of Pomak culture will have to be willing to embrace new and cross-disciplinary approaches as they delve into challenging, but ultimately rewarding research. Appendices

Appendix 2.1 Report of Pazardzhik Activists for Pomak Conversion to Archbishop Maxim

It was not easy to make compromise with our consciousness in order to decide that we have to persuade the ignorant Pomaks that through the faith we hope to achieve their Bulgarianization. This courageous idea was born in the mind of one of our activists, Todor Iv. Mumdzhiev. From the very beginning of the mobilization (October 10, 1912), he wrote a long letter to His Excellency the Archbishop of Plovdiv, Maxim, signed by ten people, his co-ideologists, among which the town’s mayor Iv. Koprivshki, Iv. Voyvodov, and others. . . . [As a result of our initiative], a population of about 150,000 people was delivered to the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, and to the Bulgarian nation. . . . Several days after the above [Mumdzhiev’s] letter was sent, there was a convention of citizens [in Pazardzhik], inclusive of those who signed the letter [a total of 22 people signed it, among which were six teachers, four merchants, four lawyers, two soldiers, one engineer, one student, one retiree, one banker, one mayor, and one person with unspecified profession], where they decided to organize the “Committee for Assistance of the Newly Converted Christians;” the Committees’ purpose is to popular- ize and spread the idea of Christianizing the Pomaks. . . . The committee decided to start the realization of this goal by converting the Pomaks in Chepino first. . . . [L]ed by priest Konstantin Koev, our co-ideologists embarked on a mission trip through the Chepino region to propagate the idea of pokrŭstvane. Just because they were asked to consider whether it would not be in their best interest to convert to Christianity voluntarily, some fanatics (about 10–20 households) along with their families fled to Peshtera; some even traveled to Sofia and Plovdiv to complain to the authorities and foreign consuls. . . . Meanwhile, however, in each village our co-ideologists managed to organize themselves in the so-called local committees for conversion. On the appointed day [29 December 1912], we marched into [the village of] Lŭdzhene where we encountered a convention of local mayors and other leading Pomaks from neighboring villages gathered to hear us. . . . Mumdzhiev spoke first . . . . [He told them] . . . that the Qur’an obstructs their progress, that their forefathers had been Islamized by force, . . . that the faith of Mohammed resembles a tattered coat which cannot warm the soul and soften the heart; that Christianity brings high moral values and gives freedom of conscience; that they are a compact mass of about 300,000 who speak the pure Bulgarian language so dear to us; that their folklore is ours, and so on. . . .

Molla Mustafa Kara-Mehmedov from Rakitovo spoke on behalf of the Pomaks—a wealthy, intelligent, sixty-year old person, who had served as a district councilor and who can read Bulgarian excellently. He literally said the following: “Gentlemen, what the people from Pazardzhik said is just; but what can be done when there are 2,000 behind us (speaking of his village) who are simple and ignorant people and they do not understand how they could change their faith. This seems to us like impenetrable forest, how can we find our way out of it? Anything is possible, but we ask to be allowed some time?” To that, the people, the audience objected: “We have been waiting for you 35 years to become Bulgarians and you have not; if the Turks were to invade us now, you would rise to massacre us, as you did in Batak. . . . You must convert now.” . . . It was decided that the conversion would be done en mass, not village by village, or family by family; the Pomaks themselves wished it that way . . . On the day of baptism, the entire population of Lŭdzhene and Kamenitsa was gathered together in order to facilitate the job of the conversion activists, as well as to stimulate the Pomaks to select their godfathers and godmothers [from among the Christians]. By 3 pm that day all petitions for conversion addressed to the Archbishop [of Plovdiv, Maxim] were signed, and many [Pomaks] already had their religious advi- sors selected. When all were announced for conversion, the men and their families were urged to go to the river for baptism and prayer. . . . The soldiers, who helped collect the population, had been stationed in these villages since mobilization time when they had disarmed the Pomaks in order to prevent them from doing damage to the Bulgarian troops. These soldiers performed their task admirably. More than 1,300 people [Muslims] were present for the baptism...... We had brought several trunks full of hats for the men and boys, and brand new headscarves for the women. Priest Koev preached about Christianity, Mumdzhiev talked about the social-political benefits of accepting Christianity, and Ushev told the story of how the Pomak were forced to Islamize. . . . But none [of the Pomaks] ventured to come forth; then their godfathers and godmothers came forward and, in a few minutes only, all fezzes were replaced by hats, and all yashmaks—by headscarve. . . . The ceremony of baptism concluded with kissing the cross, kissing the priest’s hand, and sprinkling them with water. Personal congratulations followed, then every family went home; the Bulgarians left for their villages, too. Some of the women teachers were tireless in spreading the new ideas among the [Muslim] women . . . Committees of 15–20 individuals consisting of men and intelligent misses began house-to-house visits on the following day asking the new Christians to select their new names. To assist the committees in their name replacing campaign, the godfathers and godmothers of the new converts accompanied them. . . . The former mosques were converted into churches, chapels, or Sunday schools. Photographs were made of the baptizing in Rakitovo, Banya, and Lŭdzhene. 254 appendices

. . . In Rakitovo, the photographs captured the moments when the converts were sprinkled with water, and when they were kissing the cross and the priest’s hand; the Bulgarian women were helping the Pomak women to take off their yashmaks and put on the headscarves, all the while teaching them how to do it; the children fought one another for a better hat. The crowd, including the new converts, saluted the general, the local governor, and shouted three times: “Long live the King and Great Bulgaria.” . . . The ceremony of baptism went in the following way: the whole family approached the kupel [vessel with holy water]; they denounced the Mohammedan faith; the priest then poured holy water over the father and mother’s heads, and sprinkled some in their children’s faces. Then a prayer was said, followed by announcement of the converts’ new names, at which moment the priest performed the sign of the cross on them by placing the crucifix on the foreheads, chests, and two arms of the converts...... The ceremony of baptism took place in the temples . . . or in the premises of former mosques that had been converted to chapels. . . . Both good and bad reactions came as a result of our initiative. But our conscience is at peace, because we did not admit casualties or violence to take place. Up to date, 32 weddings in the village of Banya and 20—in Rakitovo have happened among the new Christians and they have been performed in the Christian tradition. . . . [A]n association “Brotherly Love” was founded in the village of Lŭdzhene for the purpose of the moral, religious, cultural, and material uplifting of the new Christians in Chepino.1

1 Confidential report of the Pazardzhik activists on Pomak conversion to the Holy Synod, to Archbishop Maxim of Plovdiv, and to several Ministries, including the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, the Ministry of Finance, the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Commerce, the Ministry of War, and others from 22 February 1913. Regionalen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Plovdiv, Fond 67 к, Inventory 2, Archival Unit 107, pages 79–85. (In Velichko Georgiev and Stayko Trifonov, eds., Pokrŭstvaneto na Bulgarite Mohamedani 1912–1913 (Sofia, Bulgaria: Prof. Marin Drinov Publ., 1995), 157–171). appendices 255

Appendix 2.2 Excerpts from the Carnegie Report on the Balkan Wars, 1914

1 Appendix A, No.7, Testimony of Ali Riza Effendi from Kukush . . . [He] states that the Bulgarian bands entered Kukush on October 30 [1913], after the Turks had left. Toma of Istip, their leader, installed himself as governor, and told the people to have no fear. Both Ser[b]ian and Bulgarian detachments passed through the town, but only very few soldiers were left there while the main army went on to Salonica. After the occupation of Salonica, disarmed Turkish [Muslim] soldiers in groups of two to three hundred at a time marched through Kukush on their way to their homes. They were captured by the Bulgarian bands and slaughtered, to the number of perhaps 2,000. A commission of thirty to forty Christians was established, which drew up lists of all the Moslem inhabitants throughout the district. Everyone was summoned to the mosque and there informed that he had been rated to pay a certain sum. Whole villages were made responsible for the total amount; most of the men were imprisoned and were obliged to sell everything they possessed, including their wives’ ornaments, in order to pay the ransom. They were often killed in spite of the payment of the money in full; he, himself, actually saw a Bulgarian comitadji cut off two fingers of a man’s hand and force him to drink his own blood mixed with raki [alcoholic beverage]. From the whole county (Caza) of Kukush £1,500 were taken. The chief of bands, Donchev, arrived and matters were still worse. He burnt three Turkish [Muslim] villages in one day, Raionovo, Planitsa and Kukurtovo—345 houses in all. He shut up the men in the mosques and burnt them alive; the women were shut up in barns and ill used; children were actually flung against the walls and killed. This the witness did not see, but heard from his Christian neighbors. Only twenty-two Moslem families out of 300 remained in Kukush; the rest fled to Salonica. Twelve small Moslem villages were wiped out in the first war, the men killed and the women taken away. He was in Kukush when the Greeks entered it. The Bulgarians in leaving the town burnt nothing but the bakers’ ovens. The Greeks systematically and deliberately plundered and burnt the town. He believes that many aged Bulgarian inhabitants were burnt alive in their houses. He himself found refuge in the Catholic orphanage.2

2 Appendix A, No.8, “Report Signed by Youssouf Effendi, President of the Moslem Community of Serres, and sealed with its seal,” . . . On November 6, 1912, the inhabitants of Serres, sent a deputation to meet the Bulgarian army and surrender the town. Next day Zancov, a Bulgarian Chief of bands,

2 Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, “Report of the International Commission to Inquire into the Causes and Conduct of the Balkan Wars” (Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1914), 280. 256 appendices appeared in the town with sixteen men, and began to disarm the population. A day later the Bulgarian army entered Serres and received a warm welcome. That evening the Bulgarian soldiers, on the pretext that arms were still hidden in the houses of the Moslems, entered them and began to steal money and other valuables. Next day the Moslem refugees from the district north of Serres were invited to appear at the prefecture; they obeyed the summons; but on their arrival a trumpet sounded and the Bulgarian soldiers seized their arms and began to massacre these inoffensive people; the massacre lasted three hours and resulted in the death of 600 Moslems. The number of the victims would have been incalculable had it not been for the energetic interven- tion of the Greek bishop, and of the director of the Orient bank. The Moslems of the town were then arrested in the cafes, houses and streets, and imprisoned, some at the prefecture and others in the mosques; many of the former were slaughtered with bayonets. Bulgarian soldiers in the meantime entered Turkish houses, violated the women and girls and stole everything they could lay their hands on. The Moslems imprisoned in the overcrowded mosques were left without food for two days and nights and then released. For six days rifle shots were heard on all sides; the Moslems were afraid to leave their houses; and of this the Bulgarian soldiers took advantage to pillage their shops. Moslem corpses lay about in the streets and were buried only when they began to putrefy. . . . In a word, during the Bulgarian occupation the Moslems were robbed and maltreated both in the streets and at the prefecture, unless they had happened to give board and lodging to some Bulgarian officer. The Bulgarian officers and gendarmes before leaving Serres took everything that was left in the shops of Moslems, Jews and Greeks, and pitilessly burnt a large number of houses, shops, cafes, and mills. September 5, 1913.3

3 Ibid., 280–281. appendices 257

Appendix 3.1A Applications for Emigration Submitted by Pomaks

Number of Application to Leave the Country Submitted by Bulgarian-Mohamedans4

Year Total Varna Razgrad Burgass Haskovo Sofia—City 1989 number for Region Region Region Region and Region the country

As of June 15th 50,608 20,592 27,983 84 On June 15th 8,631 3,470 3,603 52 On June 16th 8,252 2,444 4,069 26 On June 17th 5,400 - [no data] - [no data] On June 18th 89,148 3.396 - [no data] 10,594 - [no data] On June 19th 8,980 3,235 1,842 3,414 62 On June 20th 10,577 5,301 1,260 3,508 57 On June 21st 10,727 4,217 2,412 3,115 35 On June 22nd 13,110 4,349 3,927 4,627 56 On June 23rd 9,259 3,881 196 4,148 25 On June 24th 3,034 2,976 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On June 25th - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] . On June 26th 10, 482 76 1,763 318 7,702 43 On June 27th 9,899 - [no data] 3,438 299 5,422 8 On June 28th 10,285 - [no data] 3,447 155 6,129 16 On June 29th 13,083 - [no data] 4,816 134 7,771 19 On June 30th 9,645 - [no data] 3,655 132 5,449 17 On July 1st 176 - [no data] 80 60 - [no data] - [no data] On July 2nd - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On July 3rd 6,324 97 2,890 2,994 11 On July 4th 5,402 - [no data] 2,436 123 2,643 19 On July 5th 3,768 - [no data] 1,772 87 1,414 8 Total as of July 6th, 1989 370,291 89,321 124,543 42,438 97,194 539

[Notice: There is no statistics available for the period prior to June 18th, 1987, countrywide, and prior to June 22nd, 1987, for Varna Region.]

4 Statistical information of Bulgaria’s Ministry of Internal Affairs, No. I 3839 from July 7, 1989, prepared for Lyubomir Shopov, a member of the central committee of the communist party. Tsen- tralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv Sofia. (There is no archival reference number on the document.) 258 appendices

Appendix 3.1B Number of Passports Issued to Pomaks

Number of Passports to Travel Abroad Issued to Bulgarian-Mohamedans5

Year Total Varna Razgrad Burgass Haskovo Sofia—City 1989 number for Region Region Region Region and Region the country

As of June 15th 174 On June 15th 13 On June 16th 113,851 60,352 31, 298 6,900 11,768 28 On June 17th - [no data] On June 18th 215 On June 19th 4,850 - [no data] 4,798 - [no data] - [no data] 52 On June 20th 73 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 51 On June 21st - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 28 On June 22nd - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 4 On June 23rd - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 4 On June 24th - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On June 25th - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On June 26th - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 61 On June 27th - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 7 On June 28th 23 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 2 On June 29th 695 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 8 On June 30th 1,795 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 1 On July 1st 299 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On July 2nd - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On July 3rd 1,009 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On July 4th 1,612 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] On July 5th 1,230 - [no data] - [no data] - [no data] 27 Total as of 125,441 60,352 6,900 11,768 460 July 6th, 1989

5 Ibid. appendices 259

Appendix 3.1C Statistics on Pomak Immigration

Number of Bulgarian-Mohamedans That Have Left the Country6

Year Total number Varna Razgrad Burgass Haskovo Sofia—City 1989 for the country Region Region Region Region and Region

As of June 15th 23,192 On June 15th 4,516 On June 16th 4,258 16,755 12,911 5,134 11,383 13 On June 17th 3,405 On June 18th 4,125 On June 19th 3,280 On June 20th 4,050 On June 21st 4,772 1,512 1,264 760 959 4 On June 22nd 4,943 1,894 1,281 529 867 4 On June 23rd 4,694 2,027 1,205 211 687 16 On June 24th 4,479 2,051 1,444 385 495 9 On June 25th 4,331 2,059 1,360 77 615 4 On June 26th 4087 1,863 1,115 26 903 13 On June 27th 4,313 1,914 1,170 60 838 6 On June 28th 4,420 1,236 1,622 399 1,017 8 On June 29th 4,707 743 1,467 768 1,381 2 On June 30th 5,038 747 1,499 555 1,960 0 On July 1st 3,570 461 1,412 662 940 0 On July 2nd 2,980 335 1,036 308 1,074 5 On July 3rd 3,666 920 1,615 513 558 0 On July 4th 3,363 447 789 478 1,441 11 On July 5th 5,155 1,350 1,102 816 1,644 4 Total as of July 6th, 1989 111,336 36,314 32,197 11,681 26,662 99

6 Ibid. 260 appendices

Appendix 3.2 Statistics on Zagrazhden Municipality

The following statistics, collected by the regime, for the municipality of Zagrazhden, Smolyan Region, provides an interesting insight into the reality of the years 1969, 1970, and 1971. In particular, the tables include statistics on population size, number of people with changed names, typical industries of Pomak employment, household appliances acquired by Pomak families, education, as well as number of exiled individuals from the region:

Table 3.2.17

Permanent Population of Zagrazhden Municipality as of 31 October 1971

Villages and hamlets Total number Included in the total are: Included in the total are: of people Pomaks Turks

Men Women Men Women

Zagrazhden 1,056 518 538 516 534 6 Vŭlchan Dol 413 181 232 181 231 1 Glogino 499 212 287 211 287 1 Ribin Dol 606 296 310 231 259 116 Hambar 348 164 184 164 184 – Dve Topoli 408 211 197 2 6 400 Malko Krushevo 207 111 96 – 1 206 Total: 3,537 1,693 1,844 1,305 1,502 730 Total 2,807

7 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1Б, Inventory 38, Archival Unit 11, page 130. appendices 261

Table 3.2.2a8

Number of People (Children Under One Year of Age Excluded) with “Revived” Names

Villages and 1969 1970 As of Oct. 31, 1971 hamlets Total - of them Total - of them Total - of them number of with number with number with people “revived” people “revived” of people “revived” names names names

Zagrazhden 1,051 341 1,054 233 1,050 282 Vŭlchan Dol 428 34 423 46 412 206 Glogino 495 86 503 48 498 203 Ribin Dol 498 34 495 77 490 185 Hambar 347 20 350 28 348 222 Dve Mogili 9 — 9 — 9 1 and M. Krushevo Total: 2,828 515 2,834 432 2,807 1,099

Table 3.2.2b9

Number of Newborns Registered with Bulgarian (Christian) Names

1969 1970 (As of Oct. 31) 1971 Villages and hamlets Total - of them Total - of them Total - of them number of with number of with number with Pomak Bulgarian Pomak Bulgarian of Pomak Bulgarian newborns names newborns names newborns names

Zagrazhden 17 8 13 11 8 8 Vŭlchan Dol 4 2 12 9 3 3 Glogino 7 1 10 7 8 8 Ribin Dol 7 — 7 5 7 7 Hambar 11 1 7 4 6 6 Total: 46 12 49 36 32 32

8 Ibid., 131–132. 9 Ibid., 130–131. 262 appendices

Table 3.2.310

Number of People Exiled from the Region

Year 1969 1970 1971 Number of People 45 29 19

Table 3.2.411

Employment of the Pomaks

1969 1970 As of Oct. 31, 1971 Employment Sectors Men Women Men Women Men Women

Industry Agriculture and Forestry 112 197 107 201 119 298 Construction 27 Retail 37 8 37 8 36 8 Transportation 15 — 15 — 16 — Other non-production 50 25 48 24 46 28 sectors [teachers, medical professionals, etc.] Total: 214 230 207 233 244 334 Total number of unemployed 299 337 303 341 297 341 people:*

[* Note: The statistics is for people who did not have salaried jobs, but otherwise worked the land given them by the state for private use, largely to grow tobacco.]

10 Ibid., 138. 11 Ibid., 133. appendices 263

Table 3.2.512

A. Education of the Pomaks as Oct.31, 1971

High school Technical school College University Villages and hamlets Total - of them Total - of them Total - of them Total - of them number employed number employed number employed number employed of people locally of people locally of people locally of people locally

Zagrazhden 27 24 38 31 2 2 2 2 Vŭlchan Dol 4 3 7 5 2 2 1 1 Glogino 3 3 6 6 1 1 1 1 Ribin Dol 5 4 3 2 — — — — Hambar 5 4 7 7 2 2 — — Total: 44 38 61 51 7 7 4 4

B. Number of People Graduating by Academic Year

Level of Education 1969/1970 School Year 1970/1971 School Year 1971/1972 School Year

8th grade 47 43 45 High School 12 11 13 Technical School 16 18 19 College 3 5 9 University 2 2 3 Total: 80 79 89

12 Ibid., 135. 264 appendices

Table 3.2.613

Household Appliances Purchased by Pomaks

Appliances Total Number of Appliances 1969 1970 As of Oct. 31, 1971

TVs 132 58 29 32 Radios 442 52 47 42 Cassette players 37 7 11 17 Refrigerators 102 15 35 19 Electrical stoves 123 3 72 6 Gas stoves 93 15 16 8 Motorcycles 53 7 5 2 Cars 2 1 1 — Mopeds 5 2 3 — Houses 427 4 6 8 Furniture 431 70 127 21 Radio transmitters 92 78 5 9

Table 3.2.714

Pomaks with New Names and IDs in the Smolyan Region as of 15 August 1972

Total number of - of them supplied People NOT supplied Percentage (%) Municipality people ELIGIBLE WITH new IDs with new IDs yet of those already for IDs WITH new IDs

Devin 3,356 1,907 1,449 56.82% Zlatograd 5,260 3,270 1,990 62.16% Lŭki 1,751 1,500 251 85.66% Madan 3,118 1,650 1,468 52.91% Rudozem 2,216 920 1.296 41.51%

(Continued)

13 Ibid., 134. 14 Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia, Fond 1Б, Inventory 38, Archival Unit 16, pages 1?5–1?6 (? indicates unreadable number). appendices 265

Table (Continued)

Total number of - of them supplied People NOT supplied Percentage (%) Municipality people ELIGIBLE WITH new IDs with new IDs yet of those already for IDs WITH new IDs

Smolyan 4,280 3,339 941 78.01% Chepelare 1,053 980 73 93.06% Arda 1,080 730 350 67.59% Barutin 1,256 572 684 67.59% Breze 605 445 160 73.55% Bukovo 1,217 518 699 42.56% Vŭrbina 2,920 1,020 1,900 34.93% Davidkovo 1,799 1,235 564 68.64% Dospat 1,502 540 962 35.95% Elhovets 1,840 704 1,136 38.26% Zagrazhden 1,659 666 993 40.14% Zmeitsa 863 478 385 55.38% Zabŭrdo 591 533 58 90.18% Lŭdzha 2,530 1,671 859 66.04% Lyaskovo 805 605 200 75.15% Mihalkovo 415 235 180 56.62% Mugla 1,128 683 445 60.31% Mogilitsa 1,421 614 807 43.21% Nedelino 3,660 2,019 1,641 55.16% Petkovo 1,172 784 386 66.89% Slaveino 1,136 650 486 57.22% Sredets 1,149 316 833 27.50% Smilyan 1,806 1,618 188 89.59% Startsevo 1,300 700 600 53.85% Selcha 740 433 307 58.51% Trigrad 842 636 206 75.53% Tŭrŭn 1,274 440 834 34.54% Chepintsi 1,143 454 689 39.72% Yagodina 981 578 403 59% Total 57,868 33,433 24,425 57.10% 266 appendices

Table 3.2.815

Statistics “On the Descendants of Mohamedanized in the Past Bulgarians with Still Un-revived Bulgarian Names as of March 30th, 1977”16

[Area]* [Number of people]

1. Blagoevgrad 150 2. Burgass 32 3. Varna 5 4. Veliko Tŭrnovo 32 5. Vidin 17 6. Kŭrdzhali 281 7. Lovetch 230 8. Pernik 16 9. Plovdiv 1,705 10. Razgrad 43 11. Ruse 6 12. Silistra 16 13. Sliven 6 14. Sofia—City 4,034 15. Sofia—Region 2 16. Stara Zagora 21 17. Tolbuhin [Dobritch] 23 18. Tŭrgovishte 58 19. Haskovo 11 20. Shumen 20 Total 6,718

Notice: The statistics is prepared by the executive people’s committees commission at the council of ministers [of the Bulgarian communist party] * [Although it is not clear whether the statistics refers to the cities alone or to their respective municipal and/or regional areas, my assumption is that the data refers to the cities.]

15 Statistical information of Bulgaria’s Ministry of Internal Affairs, No. I 3839 from July 7, 1989, prepared for Lyubomir Shopov, a member of the central committee of the communist party. Tsentralen dŭrzhaven arkhiv-Sofia. (There is no archival reference number on the document.) 16 Ibid., 78. appendices 267

Appendix 6.1 Ballad about the Killing of Salih Ağa17

Such a summer arduous into a heavy sleep I drifted, arduous and desperate but shortly I woke up. never has been remembered Go, Srahine, and bring me never has been known. my brother Shishmana.”

Summons after summons come Hastily Shishman arrived from Stambol*—the great city and his brother he asked: news after news arrive “What has, Ago, happened? from the Gümürcina** town What have you, Ago, suffered?” from the governor of Gümürcina from the kadi*** of Geliboli. “Limane, my brother, Shishmane, nothing has yet happened Salih Ağa**** they instruct nothing I’ve yet suffered, to do whatever he must but something is coming upon me. to Gümürcina he is to depart to Stanbol he is to go Drifted I into a heavy slumber before the King***** he is bow and saw I in my dream before the King and the Great Vizier. that I was clad in scarlet that I rode a dappled stallion Laid Ağa down and dozed off that I roamed about roads drifted into a deep sleep but nowhere water I found. on the summer day of St. George. And saw he in a dream I’m asking you, brother Limane, that clad he was in scarlet garments Is it for good or not?” that rode he a dappled stallion “It’s for good, Ago, for good; in Paşmaklı****** searched he for water don’t you be troubled.” but a drop he never found his scorched lips to moisten And still they talked together his thirst to quench. till news was to Ağa delivered: that Tatar riders have been dispatched Frightened Ağa awoke from Gümürcina town: and called for Strahina: “Last night they were in Palass ”Strahine, my lieutenant, tonight they’d be in Paşmaklı.” laid I here and dozed off,

17 Recorded by Vassil Dechov, Minaloto na Chepelare (Sofia, Bulgaria: Fatherland Front Pbl., 1928), 88–91. (Translated from Bulgarian by the author). 268 appendices

Drooped Ağa his forehead I hope, my sons, you settle and to Shishman he said: with the governor of Gümürcina “Limane, my brother, Shishmane, with the kadi of Geliboli you and I have quarreled and with the Great Vizier. let us, my brother, reconcile Ask they fine scarlet wool of you, let us forgive each other.” you give them silk and tinsel. Ask they silver of you, And more words Ağa uttered, you give them gold pieces.” more he Limana entreated, whilst Tatar horses trotted “We went, Father, we implored, up stone-paved pathways, but empty-handed we return. their hooves were puddles leaving Once was when money worked; and fire sparks were sending out. this time it could not. It’s you, Father, they want; Tatars on the gates hammered it’s you that must go off their horses they leapt to the Gümürcina town, boot-clad they walked in to Stambol, the great city, to the Ağa they delivered a letter. before the King you must kneel, When the messenger read the letter before the King and his Vizier.” this was the Ağa commanded: Set out, Ağa, to go “Hurry up, Ağa, be gone to the Gümürcina town to the Gümürcina city, with his faithful guardians the King has favored you and with many gold coins and the King’s name you must praise, went he never to return . . . for the King has sent to you, . . . . fine scarlet wool garment, a white tinsel waste-band Birds he entrusted with these words: and gold necklace, in token of favor.” “Farewell you pass on from me to all up there, in the Mountain:******* Hung Ağa his head farewell to my children, and to his sons he bespoke: to my children and my people; “I know, my sons, I realize what are those gifts they give me Farewell to my shepherds, what is that garment they send me shepherds, also servicemen; what are those favors bestowed on me. farewell to my companions, companions and guardians. Get ready, my sons, be gone I am going far away to the Gümürcina city and I won’t soon return.” appendices 269

Tidings of Ağa reached in Gümürcina town Paşmaklı, the great township in the governor’s palace screamed fair women on these tall balconies.” on high balconies cried little children * Istanbul in their cradles; ** Modern city of Xanti in Greece. wept young shepherds *** From Turkish, judge. in the Mountains; **** A term conferring the title of governor mourned faithful guardians (local, regional, or provincial) in the in the konak******** of Salih Ağa; Ottoman Empire. Imams for Salyo********* called ***** The Ottoman Sultan. from the tall minarets. ****** Modern city of Smolyan in Bulgaria. ******* The Rhodopes. Birds flew about crying ******** From Turkish, palace. sorrowful songs of Salih Ağa: ********* The chief Friday prayer in Islam “Slain lays, Salih Ağa Bibliography

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DANS 18 haraç 220 Dechov, Vassil 63, 223–226, 228, 229n35, hayti (hayta) 221, 232–233, 234, 236. 230, 230n39, 231n41, 236–237, 238n62, 240, See also kŭrdzhalii, 220–222 243–246, 248, 250, 267n17 Haytov, Nikolay 26, 41, 75n82, 219, 221, Deli Bey 216–217 224, 226n29, 248 Dolno Izvorovo 152, 154, 156–157, 159, 164, Herder, Johann Gottfried 35, 45 168 heritage practitioner 8, 11, 24. See also Dövlen 55, 85 role of cultural interpreters/brokers/ Draginov, Methody 41 scholars 8, 9, 11 duvak 192 “Historical Diary,” 41–42, 42n21. See also dvizhenie 202. See also promenading Stefan Zakhariev 41–42, 42n21 202 historical heritage 214 hoca 66, 77, 125, 129, 149, 192 Emin Bey 243–246 hodzha 1–3, 66, 77, 125, 129, 149, 150, 192 Eminov, Ali 99, 102, 106, 109, 126, 137–138, Holy Synod 47, 58, 86, 86n101, 87–89, 91, 138n71, 140–141, 173n43 93. See also Bulgarian Orthodox Church European Institute-Pomak 18, 19, 19n32, 42n21, 43, 45, 45n28, 47, 51–58, 60, 64, 20. See also Kŭdri Ulanov 18 82–83, 86, 86n101, 86n104, 88, 91, 93, 139, 252 Fatme 77–80. See also Mustafa Barutev horo 180, 185 76–80; Ivan Tikvarev 75–80; Maria 75–77, 80 identity crisis 25, 96, 104, 106 faulty passport photo 170–171 Imam, Ibrahim 69–71, 76–77, 79–81 ferezhe(s) 81, 110, 112–114, 118, 120–121, See also Senem Konedareva 69–71, 126–127, 132, 192, 198 76–77, 79–81 ferman 221, 221n13, 228, 233, 235, 241, ispençe 220, 220n9, 232 243–244 Istanbul 25, 127, 136, 144–145, 160, 165, 168, fezzes 57, 61–62, 67, 80, 89, 90, 104, 112, 114, 173–174, 211n43 118, 120, 146, 191n18, 229, 253. See also fez 57, 61–62, 67, 80, 89, 90, 104, 112, 114, 118, Karamandzhukov, Khristo 62–64, 111 120, 146, 191n18, 229, 253 kaurs 2 Fikrie 144, 160 kaza 214n1, 216, 219, 221–222, 228, 247n88 kilt 21–22, 22n39. See also tartan 21, gelina 199 21n37, 22, 22n39 Geshov, Ivan 65, 85–86, 93 konak 10, 216, 217, 218, 219, 224, 226, 227, Geta, Bayram 157, 165 231, 231n41, 233–234, 236, 239, 245–246, givey 192 248, 250, 269. See also the konak of Salih godezh 205 Ağa 215, 216, 219, 227, 231n41 Gotse Delchev 18, 81, 110, 111, 128, 132, 157, Konedareva, Senem 69–71, 76–77, 79–81. 178, 181 See also Ibrahim Imam 69–71, 76–77, The Gorge of Salih Ağa 10, 215, 222–223, 79–81 238, 250 Kornitsa 31, 126–131, 144, 148–149, 151–152, Great Divan 244. See also Divanı Kebir 154, 156–161, 165, 174, 194, 211n43 244 Kör Hodzha (Hoca), Mehmed 219, 224, Greece 2, 3n5, 22, 28n46, 37n11, 49, 50–51, 228, 229n35, 247 66, 73, 75–76, 92, 146n2, 176n3, 209, 219, Kurban Bayram 102, 125 220n8, 233, 237, 242–243, 247 kŭrdzhalii 220–222. See also hayti Gümürcina (Gumurdzhina) 91, 230, 233, (hayta) 221, 232–233, 234, 236 243–247, 267–269 Kurucu 126 index 277 labor unit of the army 122–123, 147 116, 124, 133, 215–219, 222, 226, 229, 238n62, live music 177, 181, 185–186, 201, 212 243, 246, 249, 250, 260, 264 Lŭzhnitsa 126–128, 148, 156–158, 161, perestroika 138, 172 211n43 Plovdiv 23, 54, 57–58, 61–63, 77, 77n86, 87, 138, 152, 225, 226n28, 240, 241, 252–254 Macedonia 43, 48–49, 51–52, 57, 72–73, pokrŭstvane 3, 23–24, 28–29, 32, 39, 40, 91, 209 43, 43n25, 46–48, 51, 53–54, 56–64, 64n64, makhala 112 65, 65n65, 69, 74–75, 82, 84–87, 89, 91, Maria 75–77, 80. See also 93–95, 97, 103, 106, 110–114, 119, 136, 143, 146, Fatme 77–80; Mustafa 191n18, 225–226, 250, 252. See also Balkan Barutev 76–80; Ivan Tikvarev Wars 29, 39, 40, 43, 48, 69, 74; 75–80 Christianization 32–33, 46; of Marinov, Petŭr 111–113, 119, 224–227, 1912–1913, 3, 23–24, 32–33, 39, 40, 43, 235–236, 237n56, 238, 238n62, 238n63, 46–47, 61–62, 65, 93–95, 106, 146, 191n18, 239–242, 250 225–226, 250, 252; of 1938–1944, 97, 106, master narratives 8, 12, 15, 26–27 110–114, 119, 146, 191n18, 225–226 madrassa 66, 77. See also Politburo 98, 101, 118 medresse 66, 77 Pomaks 6, 7, 13, 13n20, 13n21, 18, 19, 29, medresse 66, 77. See also 29n47, 30–31, 40–46. See also Bulgarian madrassa 66, 77 Mohamedans 119, 140, 257, 259 Melungeon 17–18, 18n31, 26. See also Pomak heritage 4, 5, 7, 12–14, 19–20, Appalachia 17 23–25, 27, 31–33, 142, 173–174, 176, 178, millets 45. See also Millet-i-Rum 45 212–213, 214–215, 249–250 Millet-i-Rum 45 Pomakness 4, 11, 28 militsia 129–130, 148–151, 154–155, 159–162, prisoners of war (POWs) 82–91 171 militsioners(s) 128–129, 158, 162 Ramazan 102, 125 mufti 31, 87, 111, 119 Ramazan Bayram 125 Radoslavov, Vassil 91–92, 119 name changing 2n2, 29, 95–96, 129, 154, raya 45, 249, 249n95. See also 156–157, 168–170 rayah 45, 249, 249n95 narod 27, 143 rayah 45, 249, 249n95. See also raya 45, nationalism 13, 20, 22, 27–30, 32, 33, 33n1, 249, 249n95 34–39, 43n23, 44–46, 49 rebirth 2, 2n3, 23, 96, 101 nationalism and violence 32, 33. See also renaming 2n3, 6, 24, 96–97, 100–101, nationalism of violence 33, 37, 38, 94 115–116, 126, 129–130, 135, 151, 153, 156–159, nationalism of violence 33, 37, 38, 94 191 revivalist 25, 96, 118, 120–121, 123–124, Ottoman Empire 13, 26, 30, 44–45, 48–50, 127–130, 132, 137, 142, 149–151, 154–155, 157. 64n64, 88n109, 104, 141, 175n1, 209–210, 214, See also revival process 2, 2n3, 23, 96 218–219, 219n8, 220, 242, 247n88 revival process 2, 2n3, 23, 96. See also Ottoman/Turkish yoke 75, 102 revivalist, 25, 96, 118, 120–121, 123–124, 127–130, 132, 137, 142, 149–151, 154–155, 157 The Party 97, 99, 101, 111, 118, 120–121, 142. Rhodopes 3, 3n5, 7, 11, 23, 29, 43n23, 47, See also Bulgarian Communist 54–56, 58, 60, 62, 76–77, 77n86, 99, 107n20, Party 98, 100, 117, 135n66, 153 109–110, 113, 123–125, 126–127, 131, 133, 138, paşa 214n1 140–141, 143, 148, 149n12, 153–154, 156, 159, Pașmaklı 215–216, 219, 228, 230, 230n39, 174, 176n3, 177, 180, 198, 205, 210–212, 216, 242–243. See also Smolyan 110–112, 114, 218, 220–221, 225–226, 242 278 index

Rhodope Mountains 28, 40, 56, 77n86, tartan 21, 21n37, 22, 22n39. See also kilt 92, 144, 178, 183, 216. See also 21–22, 22n39 Rhodopes 3, 3n5, 7, 11, 23, 29, 43n23, Thrace 43, 48–49, 51, 52, 57, 77, 91, 216 47, 54–56, 58, 60, 62, 76–77, 77n86, 99, Tikvarev, Ivan 75–80. See also 107n20, 109–110, 113, 123–125, 126–127, 131, Maria 75–77, 80; Fatme 77–80; 133, 138, 140–141, 143, 148, 149n12, 153–154, Barutev 76–80 156, 159, 174, 176n3, 177, 180, 198, 205, Todorova, Maria 7, 39, 41–42, 42n21, 44 210–212, 216, 218, 220–221, 225–226, 242 tombstones 103–104, 107n20, 132 Ribnovo 25–26, 126, 151, 175–186, 189, Turkey 2, 22, 25, 37, 37n11, 47n32, 48n35, 198–202, 205–211, 211n43, 212 50–51, 66, 76, 82, 89, 91–93, 96–98, 100, 127, Ribnovo bride 28, 189, 198 129, 136–138, 138n71, 141, 144, 151, 165, 168, Ribnovo wedding 10, 12, 25–26, 28, 31, 172–173, 173n43, 176n3, 209 175–176, 176n4, 177, 178, 180–181, 183–186, 199–201, 206–207, 211–212. See also Ribnovo Ulanov, Kŭdri 18 bride 28, 189, 198 Umma 45, 175, 175n1 rite of passage 177, 205 UNESCO’s Convention for the Safeguarding of Rodina 25, 110–114, 119–120, 225, 225n26 Intangible Cultural Heritage 5, 8 Romantic nationalism 22, 29, 34, 34n2, 35, 44–46, 94. See also Johann Gottfried vakıf 228 Herder 35, 45 vernacular 9–12, 14–15, 17, 20, 26, 31 Runtov, Ramadan 25, 31, 123, 127–129, 134, vilayet 214n1, 247n88 144–157, 159, 161–174, 211n43. See also violence 22, 24–25, 32–34, 36–39, 64, Ramadan Kurucu 126 93–94, 111, 143 Russian-Turkish War 37, 48, 78n86, 88 Vŭlkossel 1–3, 65, 67–68, 76, 103, 132, 144, 180, 192–197 Salih Ağa 26, 214–250, 267–269 vŭzhroditelen protses 2, 6, 23–25, 28–29, Salihağovitsa 230, 234, 236–241. See also 39, 95–98, 100–101, 104–106, 108, 110–111, The Wife of Salih Ağa 230, 236 113–119, 122, 122n46, 124–126, 129–133, sancak 214n1 135–140, 142–145, 148, 150–154, 156, 159, 161, Scottishness 21. See also kilt 21–22, 164, 168, 172, 172n40, 173, 173n41, 174, 178, 22n39; and tartan, 21, 21n37, 22, 22n39 189, 191, 191n18, 198, 210, 211n43, 213. See also Serbia 22, 28n46, 37, 37n11, 45n28, 46, 49, revival process 2, 2n3, 23, 96; 50, 51, 72, 74, 146n2. See also Ser[b] rebirth 2, 2n3, 23, 96, 101 ia 72, 74, 255 shalvars 113, 120–121, 132, 134, 135n66, 191 The Waterfall of Smolyan 10, 215, 250. See Shari’a 26, 214, 220, 237n59, 248 also The Gorge of Salih Ağa 10, 215, Shehov, Mehmed 65–66, 75–77 222–223, 238, 250 Shishkov, Stoyu 48n35, 53–55, 87, 209 Western heritage discourse 8–12 Smolyan 110–112, 114, 116, 124, 133, 215–219, Western Rhodopes 1, 33, 61n59, 65, 75, 77, 222, 226, 229, 238n62, 243, 246, 249, 250, 77n86, 81, 109, 120–121, 126, 132, 148, 158, 260, 264. See also Pașmaklı 215–216, 177–178, 183–185, 189, 191, 191n17, 191n18, 219, 228, 230, 230n39, 242–243 192–194, 201, 211–212, 215 Sofia 23, 120, 123, 138, 151–152, 163, 169, 252 State Security 150, 163. See also yashmak(s) 58, 113, 135n66, 253–254 Dŭrzhavna Sigurnost 150 Süleyman 218–219, 229–230, 230n37, Zakhariev, Stefan 41–42, 42n21. See also 230n39, 244 “Historical Diary” 41–42, 42n21 Zhivkov, Todor 137–139, 142, 171 Zhizhevo 65, 76, 79–80