This article was automatically translated from the original Turkish version.
Does the name of a mountain change? Yes, it does.
The alteration of geographical names often occurs through the convergence of political, cultural, and mythic elements that form a new narrative. These narratives, which we call toponymic narratives, are the very forces that transform land into homeland.
Societies with a mythic consciousness regard even the lands they have never inhabited as their homeland. Societies without such a consciousness, meanwhile, unconsciously import myths from others. From this perspective, the transformation of Mount Ida into Mount Kaz is not merely a change of name but a transformation of memory.
For the Greeks, Mount Ida has been a mythic mountain for thousands of years. You know Mount Olympus, the legendary peak—Mount Ida is a stage just as powerful, if not more so. I say stage because it is a sacred site where countless mythic events unfolded.
It is the center of the Troas region, known today as the Biga Peninsula. It is the place where the gods observed the earth, where destinies were decided, and where epics began. As Homer recounts in the Iliad, the gods who determined the course of the Trojan War watched the world from this mountain. The beauty contest between Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena took place here, and this event triggered the great war following the abduction of Helen. Thus, the very spark of the Trojan War was lit on this mountain.
Yet, thousands of years later, the same mountain became the stage for a different people’s narrative. The rich mythology of ancient Greece—with its gods, demigods, and epic battles—gradually gave way to simpler but equally powerful folk narratives shaped by the memories of local communities. It is here that Sarıkız enters the story.
Sarıkız is a mythic female figure revered as sacred by the local population, especially the Tahtacı Turkmen communities living around the Kaz Mountains. She is a young woman of legendary beauty who is slandered by those who cannot win her. Her father, believing these accusations, takes her to the mountain to punish her. But the girl does not die there; instead, she continues to live on the mountain with her goats and begins to perform miracles. Many versions of this tale exist, and in all of them, the girl’s innocence is revealed. When her father realizes the truth, he is filled with remorse. The place where the girl died is called Sarıkız Tepesi, and the place where her father died is named Babatepe.
The Hill Where the Sarıkız Makam Is Located (Mahmut Gök)
The Tomb of Cılbak Baba, Father of Sarıkız(Mahmut Gök)
The famous ancient Greek Mount Ida has transformed into the Kaz Mountains with the emergence of Sarıkız. Particularly among Turkish communities, especially the Tahtacı Turkmen living in and around Edremit, this narrative has been preserved in collective memory and gradually evolved into a powerful saintly cult.
Like other female spirits in Turkish mythology, Sarıkız is deeply connected to nature. Her life alongside goats, her relationship with animals, and her dominion over the natural world suggest she embodies the archetype of the Earth Mother.
The continued veneration of Sarıkız’s grave, the offerings made to her, and the prayers offered at her site are linked to the ancestral cult—where respect for ancestral spirits and appeals for their aid remain central.
It is no coincidence that Sarıkız’s shrine is located atop a hill. In Turkish mythology, the high peaks of mountains are seen as places of closeness to God. These mountains are regarded as the points on earth nearest to the heavens and to Gök Tanrı. Sacrificial rituals dedicated to Gök Tanrı were traditionally performed on these peaks. A figure like Sarıkız, who manifests divine grace, would naturally reside in the place closest to the heavens.
Sarıkız Painting in a Local Shop in Edremit (Duygu Şahinler)
Such is life. Hundreds, even thousands of years pass. The people, nations, cultures, religions, and languages of a region may change. The values assigned to these places may change too. The Greek Mount Ida has become the Turkish Kaz Mountains—transformed, reimagined. To effect such a profound transformation, collective memory created a myth like Sarıkız. But how do the descendants of those who created this myth know her? Where, how much, and in what way do they know her? Or do they even know her? I am not hopeful on this point.
During my journey to the Kaz Mountains, as I descended from the mountain villages to the seashore, I observed that the name Kaz had been replaced by Ida, and Sarıkız had been supplanted by Aphrodite, Athena, and Zeus. I noticed especially that the name Ida was heavily used in coastal businesses. This phenomenon, of course, holds true for other regions of my beautiful country as well.
Why do I say this? Why is this happening?
Is there no painter, writer, illustrator, designer, fashion designer, producer, or musician who will pull Sarıkız out of the silence of that hill? I say no—clearly, there is none. And then I ask myself: why not?
Perhaps it is because since childhood we have been raised not on the folktales of our own geography but on imported tales like Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, and Hansel and Gretel. It occurs to me that we no longer have grandmothers to sing lullabies or tell us folktales. Even if they did, we no longer see them as skilled as the “instructors” who tell stories on yoga mats in storytelling workshops. Thus, we fail to absorb their oral essence.
Keep this in mind: if your path ever leads you to these regions and you have the chance to visit the mountain villages, listen to Sarıkız’s story from the local people. Only then will you understand how the mighty Mount Ida, once rivaling Olympus, became the Kaz Mountains.