On the streets of Istanbul, porters hauling massive sacks wrapped in white plastic — on their backs or in handcarts — are a ubiquitous yet often overlooked part of the city’s fabric.
Known as hamallık in Turkish, porterage is a profession that has endured from the Ottoman Empire to the present day.
It remains especially common in Istanbul’s historic trade quarters — the Egyptian Bazaar, the Grand Bazaar, and the Eminönü district — where traditional commercial buildings known as hans contain workshops and businesses that produce jewelry, textiles and other goods.
Because many of these centuries-old hans lack elevators and are surrounded by narrow streets inaccessible to vehicles, porters remain indispensable. In Eminönü, many streets are closed to traffic during the day, making their work even more essential.
A porter can carry between 200 and 300 kilograms (440–660 pounds) of goods up to the fifth floor of a han using a semer — a traditional wooden-and-leather harness worn on the back. These semers are often passed down from father to son, reflecting the generational nature of the trade. (The profession is traditionally male; female porters are extremely rare.)
Porters are organized into divisions, with leaders who are responsible for distributing work fairly among members, who earn daily wages based on the number and weight of the loads they carry.
It’s a grueling job that demands extraordinary strength and endurance, and only a few can meet its physical challenges. The porters take pride in their craft and are selective about who joins their ranks.
Omer Okan, 60, has been working as a porter for three decades, often carrying more than 500 kilograms (1,100 pounds) on his back in a day.
The job is precarious. Okan notes that most porters work without insurance and can’t earn money if they’re sick or injured. Work has begun to dry up as large wholesale merchants have moved out of the Eminönü area, where he works.
“Some days we return home without earning any money,” he said.
The profession was passed down from his grandfather. Okan takes pride in his work, but sometimes he feels overlooked by the society that relies on it.
“When I started this profession, people treated us with great respect,” he said. “Now, no one in Türkiye has any respect for anyone else.”
