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In the Manavgat district of Antalya, we meet Fatma Sevinç, age 59, the very definition of sticking to tradition, or perhaps just utter stubbornness. For 45 years, she’s been herding goats like it’s still 500 B.C., drawing water from a well that’s been around longer than the concept of a reliable government. Located in the ancient city of Selge—where the only thing more ancient than the ruins is public infrastructure—Fatma is practically a living fossil, dusting off old Roman waterworks to hydrate her goats while wondering what sort of luxurious lives those ancient sippers led.
Living in the ruins of what was once a magnificent civilization, Fatma occupies a riveting space in history: nestled in an archaeological site that seems to have a better insurance policy than her own house. She herds her goats through rocky terrains that could make Olympic steeplechasers weep, scaling cliffs not for the thrill, but to gather food for her demanding four-legged companions. Who knew goat herding could be an extreme sport? Next thing you know, she’ll be competing on a reality show called “I Survived the Ancient City.”
Every day, Fatma walks 10 kilometers—about 6.2 miles—for the workout of a lifetime, dodging wildfires like it’s a ghastly game of survival, all while becoming a self-appointed guardian of the ruins. Seriously, who needs a fire department when you have Fatma, patrolling the area like a less exciting, goat-holding version of a Roman centurion?
And just when you think it can’t get any better, she drags heavy branches on her back to feed her goats—a silhouette that evokes images of both a modern-day Sisyphus and a determined, goat-centric superhero. What a glorious existence, strutting her stuff in the shadows of history.
When asked about her childhood filled with hardship, you can practically hear the irony dripping off her words as she reflects on the “joys” of her pastoral upbringing. It’s almost poetic—living within the crumbling remnants of a great civilization, under the weight of centuries of history, while she keeps the goat dinner bell ringing.
Yet somehow, nestled among the ruins, Fatma manages to find a silver lining. “It feels wonderful to be a shepherd in the ancient city,” she says, her eyes reflecting the beauty of ancient stones and her own chaotic life—a life that wonders not what the Romans did for her, but who exactly gulped down that “king’s water” back in the day, and if they had to climb the hills as much as she does!
Fatma’s story encapsulates the absurdity of trying to maintain a connection to the otherworldly past while grappling with the struggles of the present—a journey where the goats live like ancient emperors while she plays the role of reluctant servant. In a world where new generations are busy scrolling through their smartphones, it’s refreshing—if not completely bonkers—to find someone literally living in the past, one bucket of water at a time. Cheers to you, Fatma; may your goats ever graze, and may the ancient ruins hold steady under the weight of your combined existential dread!
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