Turks haggle over fate of ailing bazaar

WHEN the rain began again in Istanbul this month, Osman Varli, a carpet seller in the Grand Bazaar, cast an anxious glance up to the vaulted ceilings outside his shop.

"I'm really getting worried here," he said, pointing to the mouldy, decaying columns supporting the graceful vaults. When it rains, water streams down the pillars from the leaking roof and runs down the lane like a river. "Those pillars won't last much longer," Varli said, poking one column with a disdainful finger. "Look, just scratch with your fingernail and it dissolves."

Hasan Firat, president of the traders' association, agrees the leaking roof is the most urgent problem the historic bazaar faces in this, its 550th year. But there are plenty more.

"So many things are old and outdated here," Firat said in his office overlooking the bazaar's roof, which bristles with weeds and air-conditioning units. "From the roof to the foundations, from the electric system to environmental hazards, this place urgently needs an overhaul."

The Grand Bazaar, built by sultan Mehmet the Conqueror in 1461, is visited by about 300,000 people most days, and half a million on busy ones. Approximately 25,000 people make their living in the bazaar, which boasts 3,600 shops selling items from Armenian antiques to tourist trinkets. It has its own post office, mosque and police and fire stations under its 39,000 square-metre, or 420,000 sq-ft, roof.

Yet when it comes to maintenance and repairs, there is no-one in charge of this city within a city. "Yes, it is a world-famous cultural treasure," said Mustafa Demir, mayor of the Fatih district, which encompasses the historical peninsula on which the bazaar sits, "but it is also the private property of many individuals, and there is no organisational structure for solving common problems. This huge bazaar was forsaken, abandoned to its fate."

Ownership of the Grand Bazaar is divided among some 2,500 shop owners, most whose families have held deeds since Ottoman times. Although most are members of the traders' association, "we have no legal authority to raise money or award contracts," said Firat, whose grandfather started as a bazaar porter in 1907.

As a result, traders have been left to improvise, with hazardous results perhaps most visible in the electrical cables festooning the walls of the bazaar. "The market's power grid was installed in 1980, before we had high-voltage spotlights in shop windows and refrigerators in the cafes and air-conditioners," Firat said. "The bazaar is wired for 500 watts, but we use 5,000."

Inside the bazaar's labyrinthine passageways, tourists look up to a rats' nest of live wires dangling over a display of carpets. "Those rugs would catch fire quickly," said tourist Ingrid Schtz.

"And it would be difficult to get people out of here in an emergency."

Fires have plagued the bazaar time and again over the centuries. The last conflagration, attributed to an electrical problem, was in 1954. It burned for 28 days and destroyed more than 1,300 shops. The bazaar remained closed for six years, reopening in 1960 in its present-day state.

A fire broke out on the outskirts of the bazaar in February, but was quickly contained. An electrical fault was the suspected cause.

With the bazaar's walls being compromised by the traders themselves, earthquakes are another worry. Over the years, hundreds of merchants have torn out supporting walls to enlarge their shops, or dug down into the foundations to add a basement.

"We know this has caused problems for the bazaar's statics," Demir said, adding that the structure also lacks building plans. "If the bazaar collapsed, we would have no blueprint to rebuild it," he said.

The local authorities are now working to fix that, the mayor said. Since 2009, a survey has been under way to document the bazaar's structure, its problems and to develop a restoration plan due next year. That is the easy part. The hard part is finding cash for an estimated $100 million (61m) of repairs. "It is the largest restoration project in Turkey," Demir said. "We just don't have that kind of money."

While his district and the province of Istanbul are paying for the survey, at a cost of about $10m, "we cannot possibly use public funds to restore the bazaar," the mayor added. "The shop owners must do it."

To make this happen, his administration has proposed a law that would give the bazaar a modern governing structure, including an executive board able to raise money from tradesmen and award building contracts. The draft bill has reached committee level in the Turkish parliament and is expected to be passed this year, Demir said. "We will hand the restoration plan to the board and say: 'Here, it is your project, not ours."'

In the crowded lanes of the bazaar, merchants did not seem put off by the prospect of paying an average of $30,000 (18,400) to save the market.

"It is worth it to me," Emin Sari, a carpet seller, said. "This has to be done, or the roof will cave in on us," added Samet Uzun, who sells scarves. Varli, the carpet seller, said he hoped work would start soon. "It's very late already," he said with a glance at the ceiling. "Time is running out."