On the Kocaeli/Dilovası cosmetic factory workplace homicide: 'I'm glad my mother didn't die by burning, she died from smoke inhalation, otherwise I couldn't have endured her screams'

Days have passed since the fire, but as soon as we get out of the vehicle, a pungent smell burns our throats...

The smell of burnt human flesh mixed with perfume, chemicals, and pain...

The lasting scent of perfume is death this time!

Dark clouds have settled over the neighborhood. They just won't disperse...

That building of death, that workplace of homicide, stands there in the middle of the neighborhood like a monument to shame, with pitch-black debris flowing from every side, as if to ensure people never forget the pain.

First, we head toward the burnt workplace of homicide. The police have surrounded the area and are not letting anyone near.

“We are lawyers, we are going to conduct an investigation,” we say, and we can only go a few steps inside to take photos.

At that moment, we see young girls from the neighborhood wandering around with sad eyes. They are the same age as Nisa and Cansu, the children who were murdered in this workplace homicide. “We also applied to work there, but they didn't take us,” they say. “I'm glad they didn't take you, our beautiful girls, I'm glad they didn't.”

Then we see a group of children aged 10-13. They are wandering around the death workplace. They come up to us. “Sister, did you come for the fire?” “Yes, we are lawyers, we came to do research.” “Sister, we saw the fire.”

They start to tell us, their eyes filled with tears...

One of them is very still and quiet... His coal-black eyes well up, but he doesn't cry...

“My father said don't go there, sister, but I'm walking around with my friends to clear my head. I came out to get some air,” he says.

He describes the fire, the precautions that weren't taken, the complaints, but he just can't bring himself to say it.

He tells the story at length...

After a long time, those devastating sentences suddenly spill from his mouth:

“My mother died too,” he says, “but I'm glad she didn't die by burning, she died from smoke inhalation, otherwise I couldn't have endured her screams!” says 13-year-old Muhammed with the coal-black eyes.

He lost his one and only dear mother, Esma, who couldn't get enough of kissing and smelling her children, the oldest 13 and the youngest 9, in that damn fire!

We are overcome by a deep silence and tears at that moment...

Whatever we say, whatever we do, it's in vain!

Muhammed breaks the silence again. “My mother's hand had been cut before while working. They didn't even give her a bandage. That's why I walked up to the boss. They held me back! I will stand tall, I will fight. My friends are supporting me too.”

Oh, my little one, oh, coal-eyed Muhammed, how beautiful, how smart, how brave a child you are!

There are such beautiful children around him. All of their eyes are filled with tears. One of them cries and says, “Sister, we are not leaving our friend alone. We will always be by his side.”

We leave the children, leaving our hearts behind.

Around the burnt death workplace, there are rows of funeral houses. We visit the houses, but that sentence is always in my mind:

“I'm glad my mother didn't die by burning, she died from smoke inhalation. Otherwise, I couldn't have endured her screams!”

This voice never leaves my ears. We offer our condolences to the families, we talk, but I don't hear anyone. All I hear echoing in my ears are those sentences from Muhammed...

“I'm glad my mother didn't die by burning, she died from smoke inhalation. Otherwise, I couldn't have endured her screams!”

We return to our homes with pain and anger in our hearts, and a promise to fight against this cruel order of the money-lords.

As soon as I arrive, I hug my child, but I feel ashamed to hug them.

Muhammed's sentences are still in my ears...

Can a person be ashamed to hug their own child? I feel ashamed when I think of the children whose mothers died...

Oh, coal-eyed Muhammed, oh Nisa, oh Cansu, oh beautiful children...

You were made to work at an age when you should have been studying, playing games, laughing, and having fun; you were murdered, left motherless and fatherless.

None of you deserved, and none of you deserve, this cursed order that has turned our paradise country into a scene of fire, into hell.

Rest assured, we will fight to the end against this ruthless, inhumane system of exploitation that left you motherless and fatherless.

Our promise to you! 16.11.2025

Atty. Pınar Akbina Karaman

Kocaeli/Dilovası