Istanbul’s love of street cats

By J.F.

“WITHOUT the cat, Istanbul would lose a part of its soul,” explains one resident in “Kedi” (“Cat”), a charming new documentary. In Turkey’s sprawling cultural capital, cats are a feisty symbol of the city’s 16m strivers. Hundreds of thousands of strays, neither feral nor tame, live among the denizens of Istanbul. The animals are as comfortable lounging with tea drinkers at a café as they are dodging cars on traffic-choked streets.

Istanbulites often place bowls of food and water on the sidewalk in a communal effort that lets cats roam free. The money in the tip box at one restaurant goes toward the veterinary bill for sick or injured animals; at a fisherman’s stand, cats get to sample the tiny anchovies plucked from the Bosporus. People often feel duty-bound to care for the animals that hang around their home or workplace, despite the cool nonchalance of the cats themselves. “Cats know that people act as middlemen to God’s will,” says one Istanbul resident in the film. “They’re not ungrateful—they just know better.”

“Kedi” premiered at the 2016 !f Istanbul Independent Film Festival and opens in New York on February 10th, expanding to other cities thereafter. Director Ceyda Torun, who lived in Istanbul until she was 11, examines life in the metropolis from the perspective of seven plucky felines with names like “Hustler” and “Psycho”. Their antics elicit musings from their quasi-owners on life, love and God. Ms Torun’s camera alternately glides knee-high alongside sauntering cats and then swoops over rooftops for stunning aerial views of the Golden Horn.

Istanbul is made for the cat-obsessed on social media. A “Cats of Istanbul” Facebook page has over 66,000 followers, and on Instagram, iconic Istanbul scenery frames photogenic felines. In October, the Kadikoy district memorialised a cat named Tombili with a bronze statue following an online campaign. Tombili had become an Internet sensation after a photo showed the rotund cat lounging on the street, one paw jauntily hanging off a step. A mosque on the city’s Asian side also made headlines after photos circulated of cats at home among worshippers. The kindly imam, Mustafa Efe, welcomes strays with open arms.

Turkey is not unique among predominately Muslim countries for honouring its cats, which are considered ritually clean animals in Islam. In the hadith, the collected sayings and actions of Muhammad, there are numerous examples of the Prophet’s fondness for cats. By one account, Muhammad cut off his sleeve when he had to rise for prayers so as to not disturb a feline that had curled up on his robe for a nap. In another tale, the pet cat of Abu Hurayrah (literally “father of the kitten”) saved Muhammad from an attack by a deadly serpent. Muhammad purportedly blessed the cat in gratitude, giving cats the ability to always land on their feet. Cats were considered guardians in other respects for the Islamic world: they defended libraries from destruction by mice and may have helped protect city populations from rat-borne plagues.

Istanbul’s love affair with cats also predates the Republic of Turkey. Under the Ottoman Empire, the pious cared for cats through local charitable foundations, or vakif; by contrast, cats were often feared and vilified in medieval European cities. The cartoonist Bulent Ustun—creator of Serafettin, a cartoon cat—describes in “Kedi” how his Cihangir neighbourhood became home to many breeds when Ottoman-era vessels from around the world would dock and feline passengers would disembark. Anatolia is also home to the Angora and Van breeds, striking white cats that often have Heterochromia iridium, or different coloured irises. Van cats have an unusual fondness for water, making them well-suited for their home near Turkey’s largest lake. According to legend, a pair was on board Noah’s Ark; when the ship landed atop Mount Ararat, the cats jumped off and swam to shore.

Cats are not immune to the political rows in Turkey’s polarised society, however. In 2014, the Turkish energy minister blamed blackouts during the municipal elections on a rogue cat that he claimed entered a power station. The bizarre episode prompted sardonic jokes among government opponents, who cried foul play.

Despite the many heartwarming scenes in “Kedi”, the film also reflects what can be a harsh existence for these cats. One interviewee says that Istanbul’s human population is grappling with the same challenges that vex cats: a swelling population and breakneck urban development have transformed the city in recent years. Although thousands of economic migrants from the Anatolian countryside, massive infrastructure projects and political divides are reshaping the metropolis, the hardy strays are a constant. Like the city on two continents, the cats exist between worlds—domesticated and wild—but emerge with a character all their own.