Istanbul's Last Pork Butcher Fights Islamist Crackdown on Swine

Istanbul's Last Pork Butcher Fights Islamist Crackdown on Swine

By Firat Kayakiran
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April 10 (Bloomberg) -- Lazari Kozmaoglu, Istanbul's last pork butcher, takes a break from a two-hour backgammon session to recall the days he spent slicing bacon instead of rolling dice.

Eight workers used to rush in and out of the cutting room, placing wrapped meat in refrigerators, Kozmaoglu, 63, recalls in his store in central Istanbul. Today the shop is down to its last two months of stock and attracts only a handful of customers.

Turkey's Islamist-rooted government has clamped down on the pork industry since 2004, closing all but two of the country's 25 pig farms and revoking slaughterhouse licenses. Kozmaoglu, unable to add to his meat supplies, spends most of his time shuffling paperwork as he seeks permission to reopen his abattoir.

``I don't know what I can do if they don't give it to me; this business is my life,'' Kozmaoglu says as he watches a news bulletin on Greek television.

He's one of about 2,000 ethnic Greeks remaining in Istanbul. Most Greeks left the city after Turkish mobs attacked their homes and workplaces in 1955. Others were expelled in 1964 after fighting between Greeks and Turks on Cyprus.

Before the 2004 crackdown, Kozmaoglu was one of four pork butchers in Istanbul. All of his competitors quit handling pigs after losing their slaughterhouse permits. The state granted Kozmaoglu temporary licenses to let him kill the swine on outlawed farms, but those have now been cut off, he says.

In 2004, the Agriculture Ministry assumed the power to issue livestock handling permits previously controlled by local authorities. The ministry has refused applications for pig facilities, citing a failure to meet sanitary or other standards.

A ministry spokeswoman declined to answer questions about pig farms and slaughterhouses.

Forbidden Meat

Islam forbids its followers from eating pork, calling it unhygienic.

Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan has denied claims by secular leaders that he has an Islamic agenda, as set out in an indictment by a top prosecutor last month. The case demands the closure of Erdogan's Justice and Development Party for anti- secular activities, focusing on a move to ease the ban on Islamic headscarves at universities.

The pork crackdown began in 2004 after 40 people contracted food poisoning at a restaurant in Izmir on the Aegean coast, said Zafer Ustundag, one of two remaining pig farmers in Turkey. Raw pork was found mixed with the raw beef and cracked wheat used to make the Turkish dish ``cig kofte.''

`Overzealous Officials'

The ministry used the food-poisoning scare as an excuse to shut down the pork industry, says Tahsin Yesildere, former head of the Turkish Veterinary Medical Association's Istanbul branch.

``The Islamic mentality within the government finished off the business after the public outcry following the incident in Izmir,'' he said. ``The prime minister probably doesn't even know about it, but that's what happens when you have overzealous officials.''

Erdogan's press spokesman, Akif Beki, didn't respond to phone calls seeking comment.

Ustundag, 43, keeps about 200 pigs at his farm in Kirklareli, near the Bulgarian border, and owns a nearby convenience store. At first, he was optimistic about the government's measures.

``We thought they would provide us with a properly regulated work environment,'' Ustundag says. ``But it turned out to be a plan to suffocate us.''

The pig farmers soon faced a Catch-22, Ustundag says. While a new rule required farmers to provide the address where their animals would be slaughtered, there were no abattoirs left.

``How can we provide that when they've revoked all the slaughterhouse licenses?'' says the goatee-wearing Ustundag, sitting in his half-empty food and alcohol store.

Fading Dream

Ustudag's farm is 10 kilometers (6 miles) outside Kirklareli city center. He began farming in January 2004 on land inherited from his father, just before the government clampdown began.

The Agriculture Ministry seized 90 adult pigs from Ustundag and sold them to Kozmaoglu, then banned him from selling his remaining pigs, he says.

As debts mount, Ustundag is having trouble caring for his livestock. Striding across a field fenced by scraps of metal and plastic tied together, Ustundag points to a piglet suckling its mother. The rest of the litter died the night they were born because the sow didn't have a properly heated barn, he says.

Back in Istanbul, Kozmaoglu says sales have fallen to less than a 10th of the 50,000 liras ($39,000) a month he brought in four years ago. He employs just three workers.

The shop, next to a gas station in the Dolapdere neighborhood, doesn't have a sign out front because Kozmaoglu doesn't want to attract attention from ultra-nationalists.

Gammon or Backgammon

His main customers are restaurants and well-paid businessmen from various ethnic groups. Kozmaoglu laments that there are fewer Greek Christian customers than there once were because the younger generation doesn't want to pay for high-quality food.

Less demand for gammon means more time for backgammon. Kozmaoglu smiles across the table at his friend, a pious Muslim man who lives nearby and visits the shop for their regular games.

``This man takes all my troubles away for a few hours every afternoon,'' Kozmaoglu says. ``This is the best part of my time in the shop.''