In an eye-catching site near Mudurnu, Turkey, the Burj Al Babas development features a cluster of miniature castles, a vision that has spiraled into a tale of unfinished dreams and mismanagement over the past 13 years. Ravenous for investment from the Gulf, this project was supposed to be a luxurious getaway for buyers from Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and Bahrain. However, it stands as a striking example of the controversies and scandals plaguing Turkey’s construction sector under President Erdoğan.
From the rooftop of one half-finished castle, a compelling view unfolds—blue-grey turrets appear to stretch out endlessly, almost like a whimsical fantasy. Yet, the enchantment wears thin as we delve deeper into the compound. Many of the structures reveal only rough concrete exteriors, with wildflowers reclaiming what was meant to be pristine lawns. A haunting silence lingers, interspersed with birdsong and the occasional sound of a passing vehicle.
On a warm August day in 2023, the only signs of life in this eerie ghost town are Adem Tekgöz, our guide from the Sarot Group, and a bored security guard. Tekgöz, his demeanor far from enthusiastic, comments, “It gets cold in the winter, so we stopped construction. We’re preparing to restart next summer.” He waves off inquiries about the lack of current activity, seemingly confident that a fresh coat of paint and some electrical connections could revive interest in this faltering enterprise.
As we tour the interiors, exposed wiring dangles from ceilings, hinting at neglect. Water damage from winter snows is evident, alongside disturbing finds like a bloodied bird carcass. In the abandoned central area, remnants of what was intended to be a shopping mall and luxury hotel stand as a testament to unrealized potential, with heaps of unused materials cluttering the concrete landscape.
Years ago, drone footage of the 732 castles went viral, capturing the imaginations of many online, but the question of their completion remains shrouded in uncertainty. Each castle was promised a direct pipeline to the healing spring waters for private swimming pools, located in a serene setting away from the sweltering Gulf summers. Now, following construction halting in 2016, the project has morphed into an oddity—a white elephant that has birthed numerous lawsuits and disillusioned investors.
“I oversee nearly 150 upset clients in Kuwait, each having invested $150,000 to $450,000 for their castles,” shares Jassim Alfahhad, a Kuwaiti air force colonel turned management consultant, as he recounts the emotional toll on property owners who have endured nearly a decade of disappointment. He first learned about the project in 2015 during a free tour, captivated by its design inspired by historical architecture.
“The tragedy lies in the contract stipulating that we’d receive our villas by December 31, 2018,” he laments. The document included financial penalties for delays—penalties that buyers have yet to see materialize.
Mudurnu, a quaint town of about 5,500 residents, prides itself on its historical structures but grapples with the stark contrast posed by the castles. Local environmentalist Mehmet Cantürk articulates the community’s sentiment: “If I had the power, I would destroy the whole thing. Nature should reclaim the land.” He views the development as an eyesore that falters against the town’s traditional charm.
Cantürk has long voiced concerns over the construction’s aesthetic and environmental impacts, noting the Sarot Group’s exploitation of local resources like the Babas hot springs for commercial gain. Many local residents echo his apprehensions but have remained quiet, fearing repercussions for dissent.
Mudurnu’s economic backdrop is complicated by high unemployment and a resultant exodus of investment. Former Mayor Mehmet İnegöl granted the Sarot Group permissions in hopes of job creation, though some question the motivations behind this decision, given the developer’s connections with the ruling party.
The Yerdelen family behind the Sarot Group maintains that their project is apolitical and that delays are attributed to economic turmoil, disputing claims of unresolved payments, which buyers contest vehemently. The local government’s newly elected officials remark that while the company is private, there’s a shared hope that construction resumes.
The saga intensifies as past contractors like Çapan Demircan come to light, detailing a history of complaints surrounding safety and environmental violations. His journey, marred by escalating tensions with the Sarot Group, reflects a broader narrative of frustration and mistrust.
The years that followed brought a frustrating stalemate for buyers like Alfahhad, who sought assistance from diplomatic channels to resolve their plights, culminating in a significant state visit by Kuwait’s emir earlier this year. Now under scrutiny by Turkish authorities for potential fraud, the Sarot Group finds itself in a precarious position.
As the court case unfolds, the castles remain a haunting reminder of unfulfilled aspirations, while uncertainty hangs over those who invested in dreams of their own little fairytale. “We are hopeful,” Alfahhad concludes, “but some of our fellow buyers have passed away waiting for what they longed to enjoy—their castles.”
