Skepticism and careful hope as the PKK takes historic step to break up

Forty years later, 40,000 people were killed and the PKK, a banned Kurdistan Workers' Party, has ended the war with the Turkish state without securing a Kurdish homeland.

This marks the end of one of the world's longest conflicts – a historic moment for Turkey, its Kurdish minority, and neighboring countries where the conflict has rippled over.

A spokesman for President Recep Tayyip Erdogan's ruling party said it was an important step towards a fearless country.

But what will the PKK gain for disarming and disbanding? So far, the government has at least made no public commitments.

Evacuation in the tea shop from a sudden, violent storm of ail that struck the driver, 65-year-old Nicabakir's ancient city of Nekmetin Birmes, was skeptical of what could last.

“They (the government) have been fooling us for thousands of years,” he said.

“When I say I'm Kurdish and get my ID card in my pocket, I believe everything will be resolved. Otherwise I wouldn't believe this.”

Sitting close by on a small weave stool, 80-year-old Mehmet, Ek and Mehmet looked at him differently.

“This was late,” he said.

“I hope that happened 10 years ago. But even so, anyone who stops this bloodshed, I pay tribute to them,” he said, falling over the top of his flat cap.

“This conflict is a brother's brother. The people who die in the mountains (PKK) belong to us, and the soldiers (from the government) belong to us.

“We're all losing the Turks and Kurds.”

He wants pardons for the PKK fighters – like many here – and the release of imprisoned Kurdish politicians.

“If it all happened, it would be a beautiful peace,” he said.

In this majority, the Kurdish city in southeastern Turkey – the de facto Kurdish capital – has found a calm response to the PKK announcement.

Cities are being damaged and transformed by conflict.

The Turkish army and the PKK fought in the heart of Diyarbakir in 2015. You can see the tiles of the buildings flattened by the Turkish army.

Many locals told us that they welcomed peace, or the idea of ​​it, and that they did not want any more death – Turks or Kurds – the Turks.

“No one has achieved anything,” said 63-year-old Ibrahim Nazrikan, who drank tea behind the towering walls that have protected Diyarbakir since Roman times.

“There is nothing on this side and that side except harm and loss. There is no winner.”

The conflict has extended from the mountains of northern Iraq, which has recently become the PKK headquarters, to Türkiye's largest city.

Outside the Istanbul Football Stadium in 2016, PKK affiliates carried out a double bombing killing 38 police officers and eight civilians. Many Kurds and Turks hope this is the end of a dark chapter.

The PKK decision followed a call from leader Abdullah Okaran, who was imprisoned in February. He said, “There is no alternative to democracy.”

For now, the 76-year-old will remain in his cell in an island prison off Istanbul, which has been held since 1999.

To his supporters, he remains a heroic figure who placed their cause on a global agenda. They want him to be released.

Menis, who is 47, is among them. She argued that his release was the key to the new dawn of the Kurds, which make up to 20% of the Turkish population.

“We want peace, but if our leaders aren't free, we will never be free,” she said.

“If he is free, we will all be free and the Kurdish problems will be resolved.”

She is surrounded by photographs of the families of loved ones who have died fighting for the PKK, which is classified as a terrorist organization by Turkey, the UK, the US and the EU.

She lost five relatives, including her older brother and her eldest son Jindan.

He joined the PKK at the age of 17, died at the age of 25, and was killed three years ago in a Turkish airstrike.

Menis's eyes are filled with tears as he showed me how he used it to help her with the housework.

His path may have been mapped since birth.

“We named him Jindan (meaning Ser) because his father was in prison when he was born,” she told us.

A large photo hanging from the wall displays one large photo. Jindan follows the PKK in his footsteps as he reaches 17 years old.

Berkswenden is currently 23 years old. His mother didn't know if he was alive or dead until he sent a photo of himself to his family during Ramadan in March.

Menis hopes that her surviving son will return now.

“I hope Buckswendan and his friends will return home. As a mother, I want peace. There is no murder. Has there been enough suffering for anyone?”

But does she believe there is peace between the Turkish and the Kurds?

“I believe in us, in Okaran and in our country (the Kurds),” she said firmly.

“The enemy (Turkish authorities) forced us not to believe them.”

However, pro-Kurdish political parties have some leverage.

Erdogan needs their support to enable him to run his third term as president in the 2028 election.

On that side, the PKK has been hit hard by the Turkish forces, whose leaders and fighter jets have been cornered in drone battles in recent years.

And changes in the Iran and Syria region mean that extremist groups and their affiliates have less freedom to operate.

Both sides have a reason to trade now. That may be the basis of hope.