She did not ask for a new swing or an ice cream truck. Instead, she imagined a safe, shaded space where stray cats could curl up and nap peacefully.

Mustafa joined her idea, suggesting food and water bowls. Then Nergis asked, “What about the pigeons?” She imagined a space above, safely away from the cats, where birds could rest too.

And just like that, the idea began to grow. Together, they brought it to life with arts and crafts, building a small mock-up of what a playground could become—not just for them, but for every living creature around them. It was thoughtful, imaginative, and quietly powerful.

Together, the children began to build a model of their idea. With paper, paint, and their imaginations, a playground became something more: a place designed not only around what children wanted, but around how they saw the community around them.

The model took shape during an Urban School workshop at Hayat Park, where children gather to explore their city through creativity, design, play, and problem-solving.

At the heart of Playful Adıyaman, supported through the TPF Earthquake Fund and implemented by Şehir Dedektifi, is a simple idea: ask children what they think, and take their answers seriously.

That matters particularly in a city still living with the consequences of the February 2023 earthquakes. For children whose surroundings have been transformed by loss, displacement, construction, and uncertainty, the ability to imagine and influence the spaces around them can restore something important: a sense of agency.

And sometimes their ideas travel beyond the workshop.

When Zerrin and her friends were asked about public transportation, they talked about something they experienced regularly: feeling invisible on buses. Their response was to design a flyer reminding adults that children deserve the same respect and consideration as everyone else.

With support from the municipality, their message was displayed on buses across Adıyaman for a month.

A drawing created by children had entered the life of their city.

The project is designed to take that participation even further. A 10-member Children’s Advisory Council will create a formal channel for children to contribute their perspectives, while work with municipal staff will help strengthen the role of children’s voices in decisions about public spaces.

In earthquake recovery, rebuilding is often measured by what can be seen: homes, schools, roads, parks. But recovery is also about restoring people’s relationship with the places where they live.In a place where children have had to grow up around loss, uncertainty, and constant change, having a space to imagine, to create, and to be heard becomes something much bigger.

For children, that begins by knowing that they have a place in those conversations.

It becomes a reminder. That they are seen. That they are heard. And that they are deeply, truly cared for. And seeing their ideas become part of the city shows children that their voices can shape the world around them. 

It is through your support that these ideas find their way into the world.

Through Rights in Frame, Sulukule Volunteers Association brought together 45 children between the ages of 10 and 18 for 18 weeks of rights-based workshops designed to support their psychosocial recovery. Using play, movement, art, and conversation, the children explored their emotions, strengthened communication and self-confidence, learned about their rights, and built relationships with one another.

Building trust was an important part of the process. Children and families in earthquake-affected communities continued to navigate uncertainty, displacement, and the emotional consequences of the disaster. The workshops created a consistent environment where children could gather, ask questions, share their thoughts, build friendships, and gradually feel more comfortable expressing themselves.

For 15 of the children, that process eventually moved behind the camera.

Together, they developed a short film around the story of a sheep. At first glance, it was a simple story. But underneath was something the children understood deeply: what it feels like when decisions are made for you without your needs, feelings, or perspective being fully considered.

When asked what their film represented, the children described it simply as “rights and freedom.” And when they talked about freedom, they defined it in their own words as “not limiting the rights of others.”

The children took ownership of the creative process, shaping the story and contributing to stop-motion animation and voiceovers. Along the way, they navigated interruptions from flooding, electrical problems, weather, and other unexpected challenges. Each time, they returned to the work and continued creating together.

The result was more than a short film. It was a story shaped by their imaginations and experiences, told in their own voices.

The project culminated in a community screening where the children could share what they had created with others. TPF’s grant also supported child-safety training for civil society professionals working with children in post-disaster settings, extending the lessons of the project beyond the workshop itself.

In a period of their lives shaped by circumstances largely beyond their control, Rights in Frame gave children something that belonged entirely to them: the opportunity to decide what story they wanted to tell and how they wanted to tell it.

And this time, the adults listened.

For years, they remained there. Until an archaeologist took a closer look and realized these forgotten stones pointed to something far greater and what emerged would transform our understanding of early human history.

With that realization, a hill was uncovered. And Göbeklitepe emerged. Göbeklitepe revealed monumental structures created by people more than 11,000 years ago, challenging long-held assumptions about when and how complex human societies began to form.

And nearby, another extraordinary site was waiting beneath the surface: Karahan Tepe.

Part of the broader Taş Tepeler region of southeastern Türkiye, Karahantepe is one of a group of Neolithic settlements offering new clues about the transition to settled life. Hundreds of stone pillars have been identified across the landscape, while excavations have revealed structures carved into bedrock, monumental sculpture, and objects rich with human and animal imagery.

What has been uncovered so far already challenges expectations. Sculptures with a level of detail not expected from this period: a human figure carrying a leopard, or  stone vessels with carefully arranged animal figures. Each discovery raises new questions about the people who lived there. How did they organize themselves? What did they believe? Why did they create these monumental spaces? And what might the objects they left behind tell us about the beginnings of community, ritual, creativity, and shared human experience?

Much of Karahantepe remains unexplored.

But uncovering the site is only the beginning. Understanding what is found requires scientific analysis, specialized equipment, and researchers with the ability to study materials in depth. Archaeology does not end when an object comes out of the ground. In many ways, that is where the next stage of discovery begins.

Through a grant to TPF partner Karahantepe Araştırmalarını Destekleme Derneği (KADD), philanthropic resources helped establish a fully equipped Archaeometry Laboratory to support the analytical needs of the Karahantepe Research Project and other research conducted across the Taş Tepeler region.

The laboratory gives researchers greater capacity to examine what they uncover and turn individual findings into knowledge that can deepen our understanding of the people who lived here thousands of years ago.

Because at Karahantepe, much of the story is still beneath the surface. And every discovery has the potential to change how we understand where our own story began.

Following the devastating 2023 earthquakes in Türkiye, Turkish Philanthropy Funds and the Center for Disaster Philanthropy came together around a shared belief: an effective disaster response must do more than move resources quickly. It must connect those resources to local knowledge, trusted organizations, and a longer-term understanding of recovery.

The partnership brought together two philanthropic institutions with complementary strengths.The Center for Disaster Philanthropy contributed deep expertise in disaster philanthropy and an understanding of how philanthropic capital can support communities across the full arc of disaster response, from immediate relief through recovery and resilience.
TPF contributed something equally essential: longstanding relationships across Türkiye’s nonprofit sector, deep knowledge of the local landscape, and the trust built through years of working alongside civil society organizations and communities.

Neither organization needed to replicate the other’s role.

Instead, the partnership created a way to combine national and local understanding with specialized disaster philanthropy expertise. Local relationships informed where needs were evolving. Disaster expertise helped place those needs within a longer recovery horizon. Together, the organizations could make more informed decisions about where philanthropic resources could have the greatest value.

That collaboration also created efficiencies behind the scenes. Knowledge could be shared. Due diligence and learning could be coordinated. Partners could focus on their comparative strengths rather than duplicating one another’s work.
But perhaps the most important result was a change in perspective.

The earthquakes demanded an immediate response, yet communities would live with their consequences for years. The partnership helped create space to look beyond what was most urgent in the moment and ask a different question:
What will communities need next?

That question helped shift the focus from relief alone toward recovery, resilience, organizational strength, and the capacity of local institutions to continue serving their communities.

For TPF, the partnership became an example of what effective disaster philanthropy can look like when funding is accompanied by trust, expertise, and collaboration.

The grants mattered. But the relationships and knowledge surrounding those grants mattered too.
Because the strongest disaster response is not only about what philanthropy can deliver during a crisis. It is also about what remains when the immediate crisis has passed: stronger organizations, deeper relationships, better-informed philanthropy, and communities with greater capacity to shape their own recovery.

THE POWER OF CONNECTION
Local Knowledge + Disaster Expertise + Strategic Philanthropy
By connecting complementary strengths, TPF and the Center for Disaster Philanthropy helped turn emergency generosity into a longer-term investment in recovery and resilience.

Looking ahead, the partnership will carry this same commitment into preparedness by supporting some of the region’s strongest community-based models that are built on lived experience and local leadership. From disability inclusion and youth spaces to volunteer networks, trauma support, and teacher solidarity, these efforts will help turn what communities have learned through recovery into greater readiness for whatever comes next.

For girls, recovery brought another challenge. The barriers they had faced before the earthquake did not disappear with the disaster. In many cases, uncertainty, economic hardship, and disruption made the need for safe spaces, support, and opportunities to be heard even greater.

Female dropout rates spike significantly around the 5th grade. Following the destruction of school facilities during the earthquake, many families increasingly withdrew their daughters from formal education. With limited job opportunities and deepening poverty, child labor and early marriage continue to be a reality for many girls.

Through a two-year grant from the TPF Earthquake Fund, Suna’nın Kızları created two Children’s Hubs in Antakya and Güzelburç where children could begin rebuilding something less visible but equally important: a sense of safety, confidence, belonging, and agency.

Şeyma was one of them.

At first, the Center was simply somewhere she could go. Over time, it became somewhere she could speak.

Through Girl Circles and other participatory activities, Şeyma and her peers were encouraged to think about their own lives differently. What made them feel safe? What did they need from the places around them? What would they change if someone actually asked?

The answers came from their own experiences.

They talked about hygiene, safe spaces, parks, and the everyday realities of navigating their communities as girls. They learned about their rights, explored their ideas through art, journalism, and participatory research, and began putting words to experiences they had not always been invited to express.Within the Circle, she learned to recognize herself, to stand up for her rights, to express herself, and to share her ideas freely. It was where she truly learned how to speak.

Most importantly, adults listened.

Their ideas did not remain inside the Center. Girls met with public institutions and local decision-makers, bringing their perspectives into conversations about the communities being rebuilt around them. What they built was not just confidence, but a community that is deeply connected, supportive, and unwilling to let go of one another.

For Şeyma, the transformation was personal. The Circle became a place where she learned to express herself, stand up for her rights, listen to others, and trust that her ideas had value.

But she was not doing it alone.

The girls formed friendships and a community of their own, supporting one another as they learned, questioned, created, and imagined what could come next.

Across the two-year project, the Children’s Hubs registered 536 children, including 335 girls, while school-based rights seminars extended the work to more than 5,200 children. Hundreds of workshops, structured well-being programs, and more than 1,100 hours of individual psychological counseling created multiple pathways for children to recover and grow.

But perhaps one of the most important outcomes cannot be captured by a number.

In the aftermath of a disaster, children are surrounded by decisions they did not make about where they will live, where they will learn, and what their communities will become.

Through Suna’nın Kızları, girls like Şeyma experienced something different.

They were asked. They were heard. And they began to see themselves not simply as children recovering from a disaster, but as people with the ability to shape what comes next.

More than three years later, its name has taken on an even deeper meaning.

They are still here.

As the needs of their community changed, so did their work. Emergency response gave way to helping small businesses recover, creating safe spaces for children, supporting young people, and responding to new challenges as they emerged. Through the TPF Earthquake Fund, we were the first to provide a grant to them and have supported Buradayız Hatay at different points along that journey, investing in locally led recovery that evolves with the community it serves.

Today, one of those investments is helping strengthen the Buradayız Hatay Youth & Community Hub, a place young people have increasingly made their own.

For many young people still navigating the disruption left by the earthquakes, including life in temporary housing, the Center offers something that can be difficult to find: a place that feels steady.

They come to study, participate in arts and cultural activities, receive support, volunteer, spend time with friends, and simply be together. What began as a place to study has gradually become something deeper: a home away from home.

Perhaps the clearest sign of what the Center means can be found in what happens when people begin giving something back to it.

One university student who had received support from Buradayız Hatay returned during the summer to help younger students prepare for their exams. He sat beside them, worked through questions, and shared what he had learned from his own experience.

A father who regularly brought his daughter to the Center found another way to contribute. He came back to repair and repaint its walls.

Neither gesture was part of a formal program. That is precisely what makes them meaningful.

They show what happens when people begin to feel that a space belongs to them. They care for it. They contribute to it. And eventually, they help create that same sense of support for someone else.

For Buradayız Hatay, recovery has never been about one project. It has been about remaining present as the needs around them change.

A study space becomes a community hub. Someone who once received support becomes the person offering it. A parent becomes a volunteer. And little by little, a place affected by extraordinary loss begins rebuilding something that cannot be constructed with bricks alone: connection, trust, and belonging.

Buradayız Hatay said it in its name from the beginning:

We are here.

And perhaps one of the most important measures of recovery is knowing that local organizations like this will continue to be here for the communities that call Hatay home.

Fighting her way onto the local team became a double struggle. Her talent and hard work alone were not enough; she also had to work hard to convince her parents to let her play.

Yet, she persisted.

For years, Rabia balanced training with school, traveling to tournaments with her books packed alongside her athletic gear. Her commitment eventually earned her a place on Türkiye’s national team.

Wearing the national jersey changed more than Rabia’s own life. Her success began to change the perspectives of those around her, including family members, relatives, and neighbors who had once questioned whether a girl should pursue sports at all. Today, one of the accomplishments she values most is knowing that younger girls from communities like hers can see her journey and imagine possibilities of their own.

As Rabia’s achievements took her beyond Adıyaman, her ambitions grew with them. Competing as a national athlete and studying pharmacy introduced her to a much wider world, one where English could unlock access to international competitions, scientific knowledge, professional networks, and opportunities she had once only imagined.

For Rabia, learning English was not simply about mastering another language. It was about having the confidence and ability to participate fully in the world she was working so hard to enter.

Through Esas Sosyal and its Hayırlı Sabancı English Chance Program, another door opened. Selected from among thousands of applicants, Rabia entered the program with the feeling that she had been recognized for her potential—and left with a stronger belief in it herself. English became more than a skill; it became a key that opened new doors in her career, sporting life, and personal development.

Through training in leadership, networking, and time management, Rabia gained new perspectives and skills that complemented the determination and discipline she had already developed as an athlete and student. By the time she completed the program, she had not only strengthened her English, but also developed a deeper understanding of herself and a more conscious approach to her professional and personal growth.

That sense of possibility continued beyond the program. As Rabia competed in international tournaments, celebrated new achievements, and stepped into new opportunities, Esas Sosyal continued to follow her journey. Knowing that her achievements were being seen and celebrated gave her a lasting sense of belonging—the feeling that she had a strong team behind her, even after graduation.

Today, Rabia continues to pursue both of the dreams she held onto as a young girl. She is a national athlete and a pharmacy student, now with greater confidence, stronger skills, and access to a wider world of possibilities.

Her journey shows how opportunity can build upon opportunity. The chance to play became a national jersey. The chance to learn English became new confidence, connection, and possibilities in her sporting, academic, and professional life.

Perhaps most importantly, the girl who once had to convince others that she should be allowed to pursue her own dreams is now showing other girls that they can pursue theirs.

Explore TPF Earthquake Fund

Through the Ecological and Psychosocial Resilience & Green Entrepreneurship Program, implemented by Yuvam Dünya Association with support from Turkish Philanthropy Funds, over 256 young people and women from Hatay, Adana, and Kahramanmaraş came together in two phases—first to reconnect with themselves, then to take action.

In the early weeks, psychologist-led sessions focused on breathwork, mindfulness, ecotherapy walks, and emotional awareness created spaces of safety and softness. Participants began to regulate stress, rebuild focus, and restore a sense of agency. Trust formed. Community emerged.

From there, the Green Entrepreneurship phase focused on regenerative thinking, circular economies, and nature-based innovation through hands-on workshops and mentorship. By the end, 16 early-stage business ideas had emerged.

This program represents more than its participants. It reflects a growing sense of possibility.  Resilience isn’t built alone. And hope doesn’t come from grand declarations—it grows from small, honest, and shared steps forward.

Explore TPF Earthquake Fund

Yet despite a career that placed his paintings in museums and earned him respect in academic circles, Koçan never lost sight of the place he came from. “The place where you were born and raised is your center,” he has said. For him, art was not only about galleries and exhibitions but about bringing beauty, possibility, and opportunity back home. That vision became the Baksı Museum.

Perched on a hill above the Çoruh Valley, Baksı opened its doors in 2010 as more than just a museum. Its architecture invites the landscape inside; its mission bridges contemporary and traditional art. What began as a dream took shape through the Baksı Culture and Arts Foundation, and within a few years, it had grown into an award-winning institution recognized by the European Museum Forum in 2014. Today, it houses exhibitions, workshops, a library, and residencies, but perhaps most importantly, it is a living hub for its community.

Baksı has created new livelihoods in a region long defined by migration and scarcity. Women gather in workshops to practice embroidery and weaving, reviving traditional crafts while earning income. Children come for art programs that connect them to new ideas while anchoring them in their heritage. In Koçan’s view, the museum is not just a cultural space but a way to give life back to a village that once seemed forgotten.

After the devastating earthquakes of February 6, 2023, the partnership between Turkish Philanthropy Funds and Baksı took on new urgency. Together, they created opportunities for women affected by the disaster, turning the museum’s ateliers into spaces of resilience and renewal.

That is how Nergis, a mother of two, found her way there. Widowed and struggling to make ends meet in her village, she grew vegetables, kept her expenses low, but had few ways to earn steady income. One day in Bayburt, she spotted a brochure for an embroidery workshop. Stepping into the atelier, she discovered rows of yarn in every color and women weaving side by side, laughing and working together. For her, it was more than a workshop; it was a way to rebuild her life.

Each stitch she now sews carries more than thread. It carries dignity, companionship, and hope. And in this, you can sense the enduring presence of women like Hüsamettin Koçan’s mother, whose quiet determination first shaped his path. Her spirit echoes in the stories of Nergis, Suna, Ayşe, and countless others who, at Baksı, are not just weaving textiles but creating brighter futures for themselves and their families.