I tweeted on July 8, while traveling in Lice, from our Turkey Pulse account in which I host. Lice is a small town, encompassing 56 villages, with a population of 12,200 in southeast Turkey about 90 kilometers [56 miles] from Diyarbakir.

"This's where I get closest to a PKK [Kurdistan Workers Party] checkpoint. Behind the hill, I’m told, is the first PKK cemetery [on Turkish soil] for 171 terrorists,” I wrote, sharing the picture from the scene. It has become a very different environment than the time I spent in this part of the country as a BBC reporter in the late 1990s. My guide kept pointing out to me the hills that are in complete control of the PKK, where I spotted from afar a few PKK members in uniform and arms. In the past, it was not possible to see them so freely walking around in daylight.

“If you want to see it closer, I can take you to the cemetery,” my guide told me as we were passing through Yolcati village in Lice. “But don’t react when heval [used for PKK members, meaning “friend” in Kurdish] stops and asks us questions. They won’t do a thing.” I decided to pass on the offer and continue to the next destination — keeping a close eye on the vicinity, trying to adjust to the changes I have seen here since the last time, more than a decade ago. In the next village, I saw a burned minibus owned by a village guard. “The villagers here don’t like village guards working for the state. That time is over,” my guide told me. “They kidnapped this village guard about a week ago, and burned his minibus to send the rest a message that they’re no longer welcome in our villages.” The guard was also set free after a few days, according to my guide.

While the people in the region have practically rallied behind the PKK, I knew that not all of these villages were PKK supporters in the past. In fact, the Kurdish issue and the PKK were kept separate back then, and the state failed tragically for so many years in not taking timely action to resolve the Kurdish issue.