The poverty ‘aftershock’ of the 2023 earthquake: Unfulfilled social assistance promises for survivors

“Every political party sends messages during elections, yet no one inquires, ‘How are you? Are you still with us?’” says Neslihan Zenci. Together with her husband Ender and their three children, she is struggling to rebuild their life in Ankara, confronting myriad hardships along the way. The couple is among the countless families whose lives were irrevocably altered by the devastating earthquakes of February 6, 2023, centered in Kahramanmaraş. Unfortunately, their ordeal did not end upon reaching the capital, as they continue to grapple with bureaucratic obstacles, insufficient aid, and an uncertain future. Frustrated by broken promises made during the election period, Neslihan laments, “Sometimes I wish we hadn’t survived the wreckage. We are being treated so unfairly; nothing feels just.”

Before the earthquake, the Zenci family resided on the top floor of a three-story building in the Elektrik neighborhood of Hatay’s Defne district, perilously located on an active fault line. Their home was utterly destroyed during the quake. In the midst of chaos, despite losing his hearing aid, Ender managed to rescue his wife, their two daughters, and son from the collapsing rubble. Neslihan, who was awake at the onset of the February 6 earthquake, witnessed the family’s narrow escape from one of the worst-hit towns. Tragically, many of their neighbours —including several of Neslihan’s relatives, Ender’s cousin, as well as many friends and teachers of their eldest daughter— lost their lives in the disaster, and one of their daughter’s teachers remains unaccounted for.

In the aftermath, with most buildings in the Elektrik neighborhood reduced to ruins, the family was unable to reach the designated gathering area. For two harrowing weeks, they endured life in a minibus alongside 15 others. During this period, Ender’s carpentry workshop and car were buried beneath debris. Although the car was eventually recovered ten months later, Ender was forced to sell it for 20,000 TL, an amount that starkly contrasted with its original value of 500,000 TL.

Following an aftershock on February 20, 2023, the family resolved to relocate to the capital, perceiving Ankara as a safer haven from further seismic risks. They initially took refuge in a hotel, Gölbaşı –a district on the outskirts of the capital– for a month, only to encounter further adversity when some hotel staff mistreated them. Seeking redress, they applied for assistance from the Gölbaşı District Governorate and were granted a modest sum of 1,000 TL.

Aid withheld due to residence being in earthquake-stricken Hatay

Eryaman lies in the western part of the city, within the larger district of Etimesgut, far from the bustling center. Known for its well-planned residential neighborhoods and abundant green spaces, the neighborhood has flourished since the 1990s. Despite recent population growth and increased construction, Eryaman has retained its tranquil atmosphere. In the wake of the devastating 2023 earthquake, many displaced families have sought refuge here, striving to rebuild their lives.

Among them is the Zenci family, who reside in a modest janitor’s apartment. Their home exudes warmth, a testament to their close-knit bond and enduring spirit. Ender and Neslihan Zenci are a remarkably sincere, welcoming, and resilient couple, navigating the aftermath of the earthquake with unwavering courage. As they share their experiences and hardships, their commitment to fairness and dignity remains evident.

“We live under the same roof, yet they questioned why he didn’t provide proof of residence here. Because of this, we were ineligible for aid.”

For two years, they have lived in their current apartment without paying rent. Now, however, their landlord has decided to start charging them — a significant financial strain for a family already struggling to make ends meet. Moreover, upon relocating to Eryaman, the Gölbaşı District Governorship ceased the 1,000 TL aid they had been receiving. “It was ordinary people who supported us the most,” Ender reflects. He recalls how his neighbors in Ankara came together to collect money for a hearing aid to replace the one he lost in the earthquake. While their applications for social assistance have been met with repeated delays, the kindness of their community has provided some relief.

Previously, the family received aid from the municipality under Etimesgut’s former mayor, Enver Demirel. However, when Ender applied for assistance at the Etimesgut District Governorship in April 2023, just before the Presidential and Parliamentary elections, he was met with a response that left him disheartened. “They mocked us,” he says. “They asked, ‘What do you have in your house? Do you have air conditioning?’”

Their application was ultimately denied. Neslihan explains that the rejection was based on the fact that her husband’s residence is officially registered in Hatay. “We live under the same roof, yet they questioned why he didn’t provide proof of residence here. Because of this, we were ineligible for aid.” Although the municipality’s Social Assistance and Solidarity Foundation Directorate conducted a home visit, their requests for support have yet to yield any results. “You offer no help, yet you come to interrogate me,” Neslihan laments, adding that many of the promises made during the election period have failed to materialize.

Thus far, the family has received limited aid –school supplies, bread, milk, and meat– but these provisions have only met their needs temporarily. Neslihan notes that only two of their children have received school kits and that they have been excluded from much of the assistance available to other earthquake survivors. “We ask for nothing excessive,” she says. Before the earthquake, they had never sought help from anyone. “Now, everything has been turned upside down.”

“Where did my earthquake tax payments go?”

A skilled carpenter by trade, Ender found work at the Furniture Manufacturers’ Site after moving to Ankara. However, after three months, he left due to transportation difficulties and insufficient wages. Meanwhile, Neslihan briefly worked at a hair salon, but when it closed, she was left unemployed. Formerly a housewife in Hatay, she is now trying to earn a living by selling water purifiers.

Ender splits his time between Ankara and Hatay, sometimes staying in his hometown for weeks at a time. There, he shares a small workshop with friends, though his income remains unstable. He takes on occasional daily-wage jobs, such as roof construction, but payment is often unpredictable.

“Citizens are left in the dark, not just in Hatay but across the entire earthquake zone. There is no coordination.”

At the time of the earthquake, the family’s children were 13, 10, and 6 years old. Today, they are 15, 12, and 8. Their eldest daughter has just started high school, while the younger two are in middle and primary school respectively. Education has become the family’s most significant expense and is the primary reason they have chosen to remain in the capital. While Ender intends to return to Hatay once their home is rebuilt, Neslihan believes their children will receive a better education in Ankara. “If it were up to me, I would have stayed in Hatay, despite its devastation,” Ender admits.

Yet whether they will ever return remains uncertain. For 16 years after their marriage, Ender and Neslihan lived as tenants. Just eight months before the earthquake, Ender purchased their home, investing 250,000 TL in major renovations – a considerable sum. The earthquake reduced it to rubble. Reconstruction has begun, yet the financial terms under which they will receive a new home remain unclear.

Ender and Neslihan Zenci at their home in Ankara’s Eryaman neighborhood, March 2025. Photo: Ebru Apalak

Ender has been paying taxes on his shop, real estate, and vehicles for years, and he believes that those who lost their homes in the earthquake should receive new ones without cost. “If I pay so much in taxes, shouldn’t I receive my house for free? Every electricity, water, and phone bill includes taxes. Was there not also an earthquake tax? Where did that money go? If I contribute, I have the right to ask,” he says. He describes the challenges of obtaining information, adding, “Citizens are left in the dark, not just in Hatay but across the entire earthquake zone. There is no coordination.”

He also criticizes the government’s approach: “They claim to be building houses for earthquake victims, yet they sell these homes instead of providing them freely. In some areas, even structurally sound buildings are demolished, leaving families in debt. If my house was 140 square meters, why should I receive only 100 square meters and then be asked to pay for it?” He laments that earthquake survivors are given no voice in these matters. “As a citizen, if I have the right to choose, my preferences should be respected.”

Beyond material struggles, the family has received no psychosocial support. “People are shattered,” Ender says. “Everyone in our area needs psychological help.”

When he first arrived in Ankara after the disaster, he could not sleep and often broke down in tears. “I was exhausted,” he recalls. “Traveling back and forth to Hatay to check on our home was overwhelming. My car was finally recovered from the rubble, ten months later. That broke me.” At the time, even looking at photos of his lost home and car was unbearable. “I would cry just seeing them. Now, I can laugh about it.”

Yet the deepest impact, he says, has been on his children. “We try to shield them from the worst of it, but they understand more than we let on.” Neslihan adds that adapting to life in Ankara was difficult at first. “I felt completely out of place,” she says. “We had a good life in Hatay. After surviving the earthquake, it felt as if we had been buried underground. The children were even more afraid. Now, compared to Hatay, this place feels like a palace.”

Çınkılıç family: Crammed in single room, barely avoiding hunger

The Çinkılıç family is among the many earthquake survivors from Hatay who have sought refuge in the capital. Like the Zenci family, they face a relentless series of hardships. Sultan and Ahmet Çinkılıç, along with their 13-year-old daughter, spent three days on the streets after their home in Kırıkhan, Hatay, was rendered uninhabitable. On the fourth day, they made the difficult decision to leave for Ankara, moving in with relatives. Their first stop was Ahmet’s nephew’s home in the capital’s central Çankaya district, but they later relocated to a janitor’s apartment in an Eryaman residential building.

Now, the three of them share a single cramped room. Though they have not yet been required to pay rent, their contract is set to expire in a month, and the landlord has demanded 3,500 TL. Their living conditions are far from adequate. The apartment is bitterly cold and in a state of disrepair. Rats frequently invade their space, prompting Sultan to adopt a cat in an attempt to keep them at bay. The exhaustion of living in such a confined, dreary environment is written across their faces. Yet despite their struggles, they remain warm and hospitable.

“Child labor has risen. Likewise, women often find themselves working under increasingly precarious conditions.”

Ahmet, who was born visually impaired, has spent years earning a living by selling simit and performing music at disability associations. In 2013, he became eligible for retirement, but with that transition, his disability pension was abruptly discontinued. Today, the family survives on his modest pension of 15,750 TL, which is less than $420. Sultan, determined to contribute, sells an assortment of goods at the market, including tomato paste, chili peppers, berets, and socks, but her earnings are negligible. She briefly worked as a house cleaner, but the meager wages and grueling conditions forced her to quit. As a result, the family relies entirely on Ahmet’s pension as their sole source of income.

Sultan’s health has suffered under the weight of their financial and emotional burdens. She battles asthma, bronchitis, a herniated disc, high blood pressure, and a lump in her breast. Her B12 deficiency, which developed after the earthquake, has only added to her ailments. Their daughter, deeply scarred by the disaster, has struggled the most. Having lost many friends in the earthquake, she has since changed schools three times in Ankara and continues to receive psychological support to help her cope with the trauma.

Ahmet and Sultan Çinkılıç live in a one-room janitor’s apartment in Eryaman, March 2025. Photo: Ebru Apalak

Ahmet, too, has found it difficult to rebuild his sense of community in Ankara. In Hatay, he was accustomed to going out often, but here, he rarely leaves the house. Once a week, with his daughter’s help, he makes the effort to visit a local disability association. “No one sees anyone here,” he laments, reflecting on the absence of neighborly ties in the capital.

In 2024, the Çinkılıç family applied to the Etimesgut Municipality for social assistance. They were deemed eligible only for food aid.

Housing crisis and urban poverty deepening in Ankara

Ankara has witnessed significant migration from various regions, including earthquake-stricken provinces and high-risk seismic areas such as Istanbul. For many survivors, resettlement has brought profound challenges, particularly in housing, employment, healthcare, and social support. These difficulties have further exacerbated urban poverty in the capital, where rising living costs, soaring rent prices, and unstable working conditions have affected both newcomers and longtime residents alike.

Selcen Öztürk, an Associate Professor at Hacettepe University, notes that earthquake survivors often settle in low-income neighbourhoods, where housing shortages are particularly severe. “Some families have also moved to the [middle-income] Konutkent area, but in many cases, three families are forced to share a single home. These arrangements have placed additional strain on the housing market,” she explains.

“If aid is framed as hospitality, people will eventually feel they have given enough.”

Öztürk, a member of the research team behind “Urban Poverty in Ankara,” a study conducted by Hacettepe University’s Social Policies Research and Application Center in October 2020, emphasizes that urban poverty extends far beyond mere income inequality. “It is impossible to accurately assess urban poverty using Turkish Statistical Institute data alone,” she states. Beyond financial hardship, urban poverty encompasses issues such as safe housing, access to social services, and participation in cultural life. She stresses the need for more comprehensive, continuous research: “We attempted to measure it last year in collaboration with the Ankara Metropolitan Municipality, but the initiative was not sustained. Since our findings were primarily based on individuals receiving municipal aid, we can infer that urban poverty is deeply entrenched. We observed a sharp rise in poverty levels in the neighborhoods where these families settled.”

One of the most pressing economic consequences of urban poverty is the widespread prevalence of unregistered employment. Öztürk highlights that this issue has become particularly pervasive in Ankara. However, the problem extends beyond the lack of formal work; informal employment carries severe repercussions. “As always, women and children bear the greatest burden,” she explains. “Many children are deprived of education and forced into labor, leading to a rise in child labor. Likewise, women often find themselves working under increasingly precarious conditions.”

“Rights-based social support policy is essential”

Öztürk sheds light on the challenges faced by earthquake survivors, particularly their struggles with social exclusion and integration. She notes that many Ankara residents perceive these survivors as temporary guests rather than as members of the community, an attitude that significantly hinders their ability to contribute to the local economy. “In the long run, they will feel alienated and will never truly belong,” she warns. Even when survivors secure employment, their productivity often remains limited due to this underlying exclusion. Öztürk underscores the urgent need to address this issue, which is common in all forms of migration and leads to disparities in access to public services.

She further warns of the long-term consequences of social exclusion, stating, “It can give rise to security and crime-related issues. When individuals feel displaced and marginalized, various sociological dynamics emerge.” In this context, psychosocial support is crucial. However, Öztürk notes that the extent and accessibility of psychological assistance remain subjects of debate.

Associate Professor Selcen Öztürk

Many earthquake survivors I spoke to described the significant difficulties they face in accessing social assistance in Ankara. Öztürk stresses the importance of strengthening local government programs to alleviate these inequalities, but she also argues that the responsibility should not fall solely on municipal authorities. “This is beyond what local governments can handle alone. The state must implement a rights-based social support policy,” she asserts.

As a long-term solution, Öztürk advocates for the cooperative model. “In cooperatives, people have a voice,” she explains. “They are not merely recipients of aid; they can express their concerns and actively participate in shaping solutions, which prevents social exclusion.”

According to the “Hunger and Poverty Line” survey conducted by the Confederation of Turkish Trade Unions (TİSK) in February 2025, the hunger threshold for a family of four has risen to 23,323 lira, while the poverty line now stands at 75,973 lira. These figures indicate that the minimum wage of 22,104 lira for 2025 falls below the hunger threshold. Similarly, the Research Center of the United Metalworkers Union (affiliated with the Confederation of Revolutionary Trade Unions, DİSK) calculated a hunger limit of 22,750 lira and a poverty threshold of 76,358 lira for January 2025.

For earthquake survivors who have migrated to Ankara, these figures translate into an ongoing struggle for survival, as they rely on irregular incomes that often fall below both the hunger and poverty lines. The absence of adequate social support only deepens their hardship, further entrenching urban poverty. This is not merely an individual concern; it is a societal one. Öztürk emphasizes that support for these families must be grounded in the principles of citizenship rather than charity. “If aid is framed as hospitality, people will eventually feel they have given enough. They may hesitate to compromise their own comfort for the sake of others,” she explains. “This cannot be a matter of goodwill alone; meaningful change can only come through the effective implementation of social policies.”

This article was published as part of a program supported by the UK Ankara Embassy’s Bilateral Cooperation Programme. The content of this article is solely the responsibility of P24. The UK Embassy cannot be held liable for the information provided in this article.

Tags: earthquake, poverty, social aid