Ayşe Şan: Getting Home to Diyarbakır. Finally

You ever wonder what it’s like for a singer to go after what they want when everyone else is against it? Your own family? Society itself? Imagine that fight. Now, turn it up a notch with political chaos for decades and trying to kill a whole culture. That’s the real tough vibe around Ayşe Şan Diyarbakır. A Kurdish singer who blasted through everything. Seriously, she pioneered. Her life? A masterclass in not giving a damn. And not just about music, no. This is about a woman. A woman who fought. Fought hard. For her voice. For her roots. And yeah, for a place she loved but couldn’t truly live in. Her homeland.

A Voice Against the Grain

Ayşe Şan came into the world in Diyarbakır back in 1938. She spent her younger years watching her dad, Osman Bey. He was a Denkbej. A big deal. Everyone respected him. And his house? Always humming. Always music. She’d just listen. Behind doors. Just soak up those strans and kilams. But her mother, Elif (called Heciye Hanım by some), had other plans. For Ayşe’s amazing voice. For prayer. For the Quran.

But you know, that music current? Super strong. Ayşe Şan got her start doing hymns and kilams at some carpet weaving class. Didn’t take long. She wanted more. And her family? Well, they were proud of other things. This public Denkbej thing for a young girl in 1950s Diyarbakır? No way. Locals talked. Lots of gossip. Talk about a messed up path.

Kicked Out, Heartbreak Wherever She Went

So, the family’s brilliant idea? A forced marriage. Wham. Ayşe Şan marries Şevket Turan. Older guy. They moved to Mardin. Had a daughter. Şehnaz. But pure misery. Couldn’t stand it. So she took her baby, went back home. To her mom. Only to find Diyarbakır wasn’t any friendlier. She was young, gorgeous. Everyone kept pushing her. Marry again.

And then? A big moment. She heard her dad’s favorite kilams. Fumbling. Wrong. Nope. Not like that. She swore right then: “Gotta honor him. Through my own songs.” So, she left Diyarbakır. Hit Gaziantep. Even sewed clothes. For two years, straight up, Turkish folk songs on the radio. Because Kurdish music? Banned. Then, absolute horror. Her daughter, Şehnaz. Gone. Just 1.5 years old. Ayşe Şan took all that pain. Made a stran. A ghost of a song. For her kid. Nothing left in Gaziantep. So she went to Istanbul in 1963.

Big Shot, Big Heartbreak

So, Istanbul. Her first cassette. A mix. Turkish and Kurdish stuff. Then, an award. Folk music. But they took it back! Because she sang in Kurdish. Can you believe it? And alone she was. No friends in high places. The music industry? They ate her up. Record labels, man. Tricked her. Contracts that took everything. Paid her pennies. While her records sold like crazy. Seriously, read the fine print. Especially if you’re an artist. Felt like a bird in a cage. And used. She tried to end it all. Twice.

But, people in Europe! Fans. They reached out. A way out. So Ayşe Şan headed for Germany. Played for Kurds living in Holland, England, Germany too. BBC Radio! Had her on. Even with all that international applause, going home? To Diyarbakır? Forget it. Too many threats. Her mom was dying. Sent a message. “Tell Ayşe to come.” Blocked it. Never saw each other again. That hurt. Deep. Burned its way into so many strans. And another thing: some folks say she got attacked with a knife on stage once. Finished the show! Unbelievable. That woman. Never gave up.

Her name just grew. Underground fame. Bootleg tapes, radio from Erivan and Baghdad. Millions heard her. Even if they never saw her face. Her songs, her sad story. Absolute legend. In 1979, she went to Iraq. Worked at Baghdad Radio. Played with totally famous Kurdish artists there.

Real Queen, Stolen Music

Look, Ayşe Şan wasn’t ever after money. Or being famous. Nope. Her whole life was Denkbejlik. Just telling stories. You know, with songs. But that didn’t shield her. Moved back to Turkey after that 1980 coup? Yikes. Way worse. Things got super tight. She put out a bunch of Turkish cassettes. Just a couple of Kurdish songs. Ended up in İzmir. Remarried. Two more kids: Murat and Yasemin. And get this: worked at a post office. Just had to pay the bills.

And by the nineties? She was basically done performing. But her old recordings? Everywhere. On pirated tapes. Made other people rich. While she, the actual artist, suffered. This legend. This one-of-a-kind Denkbej. Never got paid. Never got her due.

Finally Home. After Decades

Ayşe Şan died in İzmir. December 18, 1996. Fifty-eight years old. Cancer. What was her last wish, before she passed? To be buried. In Diyarbakır. Her home. The land they made her leave. To be with her mom. But her family? Relatives? Nope. Said absolutely not. Buried her in İzmir.

Years went by. Decades. Then, Ayşe Şan’s music somehow blew up again. Thanks to social media. Her fight. Her life story. Like a movie. Her kilams. Echoed anew. People held events. For the “uncrowned queen of Kurdish music.” They hated her when she was alive. Pure disrespect. But after she died? An icon. And that denied final wish? It really bothered people. Heavy on the heart. Slowly, things changed. Almost thirty years late. Her son, Murat Kersen, said okay. So, Ayşe Şan’s coffin. Dug up. Took her out of İzmir. Big, big ceremony. Women carried her casket. Straight to Diyarbakır’s Bağlar Cemetery. She finally came home. To the land she missed so much, some even said it made her sick.

Left Her Mark. Inspire Everyone

She lived. And she died. Full of missing. Her dad first. Her teacher. And her mom, definitely her mom. Her songs? Just packed with loneliness. That ache. And a quiet “why me?” to her tough life. Plus, her relatives? “What will people say?” That got to them. So they pushed her away. Brutal. Unthinkable pain. But this woman. Even with her religious background, holding tight to tradition. She made a place for herself. In a man’s world.

Her whole deal wasn’t about being famous. Or rich. Nope. It was about being. Through her voice. Through her art. Even with crazy censorship. Being ripped off financially. And getting sick way too young. Ayşe Şan’s music. Her incredible life. Just a massive guidepost. For so many Kurdish women musicians after her. Seriously strong proof of what culture can truly endure.

FAQs (Stuff People Ask)

Q: Where exactly was Ayşe Şan born?
A: Diyarbakır, 1938. That’s the spot.

Q: What awful stuff did Ayşe Şan go through?
A: Oh man. Her family ditched her for singing. Forced marriage, super young. Worst part? Lost her little girl, Şehnaz, at 1.5. And get this: couldn’t even see her mom before she died. Threats kept her away from Diyarbakır. Brutal.

Q: How long before they finally did what Ayşe Şan wanted?
A: Twenty-nine whole years after she passed away. Yeah, her family said no way at first. But her son? He made it happen. Finally buried in Diyarbakır.