Man's path does not pass through Maraş by chance. Man goes to Maraş with perseverance. Maraş, because it is not a city built on passageways. It has a unique geographical position. This appearance is deceiving, although on the map it appears to be above the main passageways. Indeed, when we look at the map, Malatya and Adıyaman are located in the east of Maraş, Kayseri and Adana in the west, Sivas in the north and Gaziantep in the south. The fact that Maraş, which is located in the middle of all these passageways, is not on the route itself should be considered an interesting event.

Established on the skirts of Ahır Mountain, Maraş was in a position that could not be said to have much contact with the world and its surroundings until the last few decades, and in a more open conversation, it did not establish a relationship with the world, perhaps it did not "deign" to establish a relationship.

My Maraş, the city where I was born, this was the city that had lost touch with the world. When I say my Maraş, I remember the 1940s and 50s, when I spent my childhood and adolescence. And the Maraş of those years... Maraş, with a population of 35 thousand, in a narrow area extending from Pınarbaşı in the east to Batıpark in the west, not extending from the border where Arkbaşı countryside begins in the north to Karamaraş in the south (two kilometers north of the current train station)...

My Maraş is just this. It would fall outside not only the highway route, but also the railway route. (It still is.) The railway, coming from the west and going to the east, makes an elbow to the northwest in Narlı, finds the Maraş train station and stays there. The railway does not go beyond there, and the Maraş train station is a blind station.

The people of Maraş, who are so closed to the environment in terms of geography, have been closed to their environment for many years, and this unique closure has kneaded and formed their character. In this respect, the people of Maraş have always wanted to be self-sufficient and to stand on their own feet. More precisely, the nature of the city may have forced them to be like that. Let me repeat, I am talking about my Maraş, the Maraş of my childhood... Maraş, which I spoke about, reached the zenith of this spirit of self-sufficiency in February 1920: The War of Independence of Maraş, which started with the shooting of French soldiers by Sütçü İmam on January 20 of that year and lasted for twenty-one days, reveals the embodiment of this spirit of self-sufficiency. In that war, Maraş uses only its own people, only its own gang, only its own local organization. It does not receive any outside help. When it drove the invaders off its land, only it knew it. This war was not made to add a new epic to modern times; it was made just to obey the command of religion, that's all.

My Maraş is generally and mainly an agricultural city. The basic character of the people engaged in agriculture has permeated the soul of my people: Self-sufficiency. Not being dependent on others, not opening hands to anyone, not serving the servant are the essential elements of this personality. This person is not very successful in trade. The trade requires opening up. The trade requires establishing relations with neighboring cities, neighboring countries, going there, buying goods from there, and bringing goods there. However, the location (geography) of Maraş has not been suitable for this for many years. And the people of Marash did not feel the need for trade. Small groceries were of course done in the city, but even this remained as a manifestation of self-sufficiency and that was it.

Since Maraş is closed to the outside, especially considering the harsh and long winters of my Maraş, the question of what they ate and drank during those seasons may come to mind. The people of Marash move to the vineyards in summer. These vineyards are small highlands, 8-10 kilometers from the city center, maybe 20 kilometers, stretching from west to east along the skirts of Ahır Mountain, with altitudes a few hundred meters higher than the city center. Various types of grapes are grown in these vineyards. Likewise, nuts such as walnuts, almonds, peanuts are grown. The people of Maraş make their own musts, such as samsa and walnut sausage, from grapes, which will be enough for them throughout the year. They store their fruits such as winter pear and pomegranate for the winter with special methods. They dry and store their berries such as mulberries and figs, as well as apricots. All these berries, dried berries, musts prepared by special processes such as samsa, nut saussage enable them to spend the winter season in particular, and the whole year in general, without worrying about their rizq. In the same way, meat sausage (this is called irişkit in Maraş) is made. And most importantly, yes, the most important is Maraş's unique tarhana. This tarhana is not made anywhere else in Türkiye, hence the world. Like Maraş's ice cream, this tarhana is unique to itself. It has a grueling, troublesome way of making, but everyone joins the effort with pleasure. Explaining how this tarhana is made is long and interesting enough to be the subject of a separate article. For example, şapta and çığ are the names of two external materials of tarhana that are not used elsewhere in Türkiye. Şapta is the name given to poles made of poplar wood and çığ is a kind of mat woven from thin reeds. The çığs spread over the şaptas, and fresh tarhana is spread over the avalanches and dried.

These dried berries, must, tarhana and other winter grains of Maraş are expressions of its desire to be self-sufficient, moreover, of its self-sufficiency.

The autumn is the season when the grapes are ripe, so winter musts such as bastık, grape pulp, nut sausage, samsa is made from grape. Here are some of our grape varieties: Ağüzüm (aküzüm), marhabaşı, bandırma, külefi, yıldız, kabarcık, or azezi of course… Each of these has a different ripening season and place of use. For example, for must, kabarcık and azezi is used; the must made from ağüzüm becomes a little whiter and softer.

In the summer, the names of our central villages, which are on highlands, are poetic: Kazma, Üngüt, Ayakçıloluk, Kerhan, Güzlek, Gafarlı, Ağyar (Akyar), Sarız (Sarıkız’dan bozma), Kozludere, Tekerek, etc.

Our mountains are no less poetic: Apart from Ahır Mountain, where Maraş spreads over its foothills, other mountains that are far from the city but feed Maraş with their air: Engizek Mountain, the altitude: 2,814 m, Armut Mountain, the altitude: 2,450 m, Berit Mountain, the altitude: 3,027 m, Nurhak Mountain, the altitude: 3,081 m.

And our neighborhoods: Devecili, Mağaralı, Nahırönü, Tekke, Kayabaşı, Çiçekli, Kuyucak, Divanlı, Kümbet, Şekerli, Ekmekçi, Uzunoluk, Boğazkesen, Kanlıdere, Kaladibi, Aladan, Seriyaltı (changed from Sarayaltı), Arkbaşı, Pınarbaşı, Abarabaşı… These are the names of districts, neighborhoods or places that come to my mind randomly.

Despite its geographical location, Maraş has experienced an incredible explosion in terms of urbanization in recent years. Where is the city of 35 thousand in the 1960s, where is the city of 350 thousand today? I think it falls outside the scope of this article to convey the problems that this urbanization has in its backup. It's a separate issue. The thing that interests me is this: Now, I am failing to recognize my Maraş.

I visit Maraş every year, albeit for short periods, where I haven't stayed permanently for thirty years or so (since 1958). Every time I see that a new street, a new district, which I do not know, is being established. My Maraş, on the other hand, is getting more and more lost every year, getting smaller next to the newly established Kahramanmaraş, it is almost turning into an old neighborhood of the new Maraş. The water pumps that we came across at every corner in the past have been dismantled, and the fountains and springs have dried up. In the past, the water of one Pınarbaşı was enough for a city of 35 thousand people; now it is not enough, dams are being built. There are dam ponds around our city. I will say that this has changed the weather of Maraş quite a lot. During my visit this year, I felt the air of the city very humid.

Despite this extraordinary urbanization, Maraş continues to preserve its unique features. For example, our meatball varieties: Stuffed meatballs, raw meatballs, bulgur salad, lentil meatballs (also called bland meatballs), sour meatballs, yogurt meatballs, meatball stew, simit meatballs (simit, finely ground bulgur) and as the main dish of local weddings, keşkek food and pumpkin are still in demand.

Maraş has also trained people who have success in the field of sports and music, both in the country and internationally.

Karakucak wrestling still continues. Maraş presented champion wrestlers to world, European, Olympic and Turkish competitions. Bekir Büke, Mehmet Esenceli, Şeref Eroğlu, Ahmet Ak are the first names that come to mind. But I think Maraş is the home of pewlivans rather than wrestlers.

I think that handicrafts such as coppersmithing, thread working and wood carving should be revived. And it would be ungrateful to pass on two worthwhile acts of our municipality without mentioning them here. The boulevard opened at the entrance to Maraş from the direction of Kayseri was named Necip Fazıl Kısakürek; a wide, new street opened in the city was called Cahit Zarifoğlu Street. One of them is one of the leading names of our Republican Period literature and the other is one of the leading names of contemporary literature. But of course, the poets, storytellers and authors of Maraş are not limited to these two. Ahmet Çıtak, Durdu Poor, Kazım Temir, Hayati Vasfi, Mustafa Zülkadiroğlu, Derdiçok, Âşık Memmet (Mehmet) are our folk poets that come to mind immediately. In addition, our poets and writers who have a place in contemporary literature: Nuri Pakdil, Şeref Turhan, Erdem Bayazıt, Alâeddin Özdenören, Akif İnan, İsmail Kıllıoğlu, Osman Sarı, Kadir Tanır, Ba hattin Karakoç, Abdurrahim Karakoç, Şevket Yücel, Şevket Bulut, Tahsin Yücel, Kamil Aydoğan, Adnan Tekşen, Sezai Uğurlu, Bünyamin K. and dozens of other names… I consider all these names that I have counted and cannot count now from the veins that feed contemporary literature.

There is a question that we come across from time to time as a Maraş native: How is it possible, they say, that so many names can come out of a small city like Maraş? I said that Maraş is mainly located in a closed geography. People of Maraş, who do not think of opening and expanding outward have covered distances in deepining inward and toward themselves. Maraş now wants to be self-sufficient with its university. Along with urbanization, it has also provided breakthroughs in industry. I interpret this renewal movement of Maraş, on the one hand, as an effort to convey its own culture to the whole of Türkiye, while on the other hand it integrates itself with Türkiye. And I want to see a new Kahramanmaraş born from the culture of my Maraş, I see it.