Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Story from a Turkish Cypriot reader: “Epiho and Maratha rubbish dumps are the same…”

Story from a Turkish Cypriot reader: "Epiho and Maratha rubbish dumps are the same…"

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 99 966518

One of my readers, a wonderful Turkish Cypriot who has been helping us for many years to find possible burial sites in the Mesaoria region has written a short story about what happened to those Greek Cypriots who were taken as prisoners of war in Voni, in the house of Frosso Dimou and then they all "disappeared" for many years… They were taken prisoners by a group of Turkish Cypriots from nearby villages… Today, I want to share his story… The following story is what he has written to me, after the remains of five Greek Cypriots buried at the Epiho rubbish dump were identified by the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee and after they were returned for burial to their relatives… The sister of one of those Greek Cypriots had asked me about how her brother had died and whether he had suffered, whether he was tortured and what were the circumstances…
I asked my Turkish Cypriot reader who has been helping me for many years to write down what he knew… And he sat down and wrote a letter to the sister of that "missing" Greek Cypriot whose remains were found in the Epiho rubbish dump.
Here is his story, addressing the sister of one of the "missing" Greek Cypriots whose remains were found there:
"My dear sister,
I will write for you a short story… I heard that you wanted to know about how I was killed… It's been years since I was killed. My mother died, my father died… After they passed away, my bones were found in a rubbish dump…
I heard that you said "Thank God that my mother and father passed away before they would see us burying our brother…"
And I heard that you said "My brother was in a rubbish dump for many years…"
Don't be sad… Where the remains of the dead persons are is not important for them… But it is important for you… This I know… You want to remember the one who died, to memorise old days, to go and pray for him… I don't need that.
What I needed was days to live… Days to be alive…
I could not even have a kid…
I could not even make love with a woman as much as I wanted…
My sweat did not even mix with the sweat of a woman as much as I wanted…
We died for those who do not know the meaning of life, for their unbelievable ideologies… Their ideologies were not even my ideology… It wasn't even a thought I would follow to the end…
Then why did we die?
I died for the defense of my country… But without honour…
No, no, it is not me who has no honour… It is those who have killed me, the ones without honour.
What makes a human a real human is his or her honour.
Honour is the self-respect of a human being.
Honour is the value and the respect that a person feels for his or her own personality… It is the internal value of a human being…
A human being lives for its honour and kills for its honour…
With honour and with self-respect, he would kill with respect he feels towards the enemy. He kills while fighting… And then he feels respect for the person he has killed because his enemy was so strong and fearless…
We were with honour, we had accepted the defeat. But we were fearless.
We surrendered ourselves without fearing death… But we were wrong… The enemy group that arrested and killed us had no honour. They were such a group without honour that they would bury their enemy inside a rubbish dump.
If I had an enemy, I would hold him high… Because I would not pull the trigger against an enemy without honour. They are not my enemies… These were people who hid my burial site, my grave and threw trash over me in order to hide my burial site. They cannot be my enemies…
My enemy would be the one confronting me, looking me in the eye and fighting with me…
My enemies are not the ones who would put us on a truck after we would surrender and kill some of those on the truck by using their bayonets… These cannot be my enemies… This group was a group who did not go to fight and after the war would appropriate the victory of war… A bunch of vagabonds…
My enemies should have been as honourable as me… They should have been honourable in order not to pull a gun and pull the trigger to those who had surrendered.
I heard that you were asking how we had been killed…
If this would make your pain less, let me tell you but please don't cry…
When we lost the war, we went to a woman's house and sought shelter there in Voni…
She gave us clothes… She gave us food to eat… And then we started waiting for the UN soldiers to come… But the house we were in were surrounded by the enemy (!) and we surrendered… But before we surrendered, we had given our names to be written down by the woman in whose house we had taken shelter.
Many of us knew the man who took us as prisoners of war. They knew both him and his father… His father was one who had eaten the bread of some of us who had surrendered… They put us on a truck… When taking us up on a truck, they used their bayonets to wound us. Because we could not fit in the truck, all 45 of us, they killed one of us to make space… One of us died… We could not revolt for the one who died… They took us through a small village at the back of the truck and we were going towards Chatoz. While passing through this small village called Beykeuy, kids were watching us… But believe me, we were not thinking that we were going to be killed. A lot of us waved to the kids who were playing by the side of the road while we were passing through that village. And of course the kids waved back at us…
A military jeep was following us… On it was an A4 type of gun and this jeep was behind the truck, following us… It never crossed our mind that we were going to be killed. They were taking us as prisoners to Chatoz village…
While passing from near a cemetery, the truck turned into a dirt track near the cemetery… And then we realized that they were going to kill us… And about 500 meters further, they got us off the truck…
We wanted to escape and we spoke amongst us, we were going to run and escape… And then we heard that ear screeching sound… In the same moment, about 25 of us fell on top of each other. Some of us got wounded… And then the sound of the machine gun stopped. It had got stuck…
The guy who was behind the machine gun shouted an order, saying "Kill all of them!"
We ran and they followed us… Within a thousand meters, they killed all those who had been wounded one by one… They shot me from behind. I did not suffer… I ran with the hope of escaping… Next to me were two of my friends with whom we lay down together for many years in the rubbish dump…
We had escaped around 20 of us…
Three of us, we were shot from behind… When the gun of the enemy got stuck, one from our group was killed by crushing his skull…
One of us had taken shelter in the house of an old Turkish Cypriot woman in Epiho… He had been wounded… He was found and taken from this house and a bayonet was stuck in his wound and taken to the centre of the village… He was killed in the centre of the village while people were watching and then they tried to burn his body… For many years they did not dig where he had been buried although they knew his place… Really, why were they not digging for him for so many years? Perhaps they knew something that we did not know… Recently they started digging for him and it became apparent that because of the smell, one of the villagers took his burned body further up and reburied him under the eucalyptus trees… The eucalyptus trees have been cut but only one eucalyptus tree remained to mark his burial site, like a monument… Perhaps finally, they will find his remains and give these remains back to his family…
When he was killed and fell on the ground in the centre of the village, they had taken his boots and his belt saying "These are good…"
Nine or ten of us were used like a target and were killed. One of us tried to escape towards the village where we had surrendered. He too was wounded but I don't know what happened to him…
I heard that you were curious about how we died… That you were asking whether we had been tortured… If we felt fear realizing that we were dying…
We understood death but we did not fear… We did not feel fear but the bunch of guys who were supposed to be our enemies had no honour. They killed us without accepting that we were their enemies and killed us without honour. We had fought a war for nothing because this group of people had no honour. Dying was not the bitterness we felt… The lack of honour of this bunch of guys was what was bitter about the whole thing… Without having enough time to make love with a woman, without having a child of my own… That's what has killed me, above all…
And what happened to us in this small village in Mesaoria, happened further up… With similar bunch of guys from our own side who had no honour and who would kill in the same way, unarmed, civilian women and children and bury them in the same way they buried us in a rubbish dump in Maratha… The ones without honour from our side from EOKA-B and the ones without honour from the other side who took us from Voni were like identical twins in their ideology and in their attitude and in the way they behaved – neither of them went to the war to fight but tried to rip off the "victory" after the war… Neither of them had the honour to respect their "enemy" and killed and buried them in rubbish dumps… Neither of them was ever punished by authorities on either side… On the contrary, they would rip off the "benefits" and "spoils" after the war and would be treated like "heroes"…
We lay down in the rubbish dump for so many years until they found our remains…
Funerals were held for us… Epiho and Maratha rubbish dumps became the shame of our country… Epiho and Maratha rubbish dumps are the same: They contained the bodies of those who were killed and hidden there – our bodies, the bodies of women and children and old men, people without defense, people who should have been alive but were killed because we have people in both communities who feel no shame and who have no honour…
So dear sister when you think of me, think of all the good people who lived and who continue to live on this island with human dignity, trying to protect the human dignity of all… And think of all those people who lack honour and human dignity and who buried bodies of those they have killed in Epiho and in Maratha-Sandallaris-Aloa… These people without honour are exactly the same even if they might speak different languages: Either Turkish or Greek, whether they are Turkish Cypriot or Greek Cypriot… Just as the good people of this land with human dignity are the same: whether they speak Turkish or Greek, whether they are Turkish Cypriot or Greek Cypriot… Seek those good people out sister and hold them close to your heart… Because humanity is there, not in the ones who lack honour and who pose as "heroes"… Seek out the real heroes of our land and hold them tight… They will be the hope for the future…"

(This article has been written by a Turkish Cypriot reader whose name is known and safe with us… He has been helping us finding the possible burial sites of missing persons and who helps us to write their stories… He too is one of the real heroes of our island… I thank him for his humanity… - 9.4.2019)

4.5.2019


Photos:

Bodies discovered at former rubbish damp of Maratha in 1974

And

This is how the place looked back in 2013 at Epikho rubbish damp…

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper in Greek on the 2nd of June 2019, Sunday. A similar article was published in the YENIDUZEN newspaper in Turkish on the 9th of April 2019 and here is the link:

http://www.yeniduzen.com/murataga-ve-galatya-katliamlari-anlatilacak-13849yy.htm

Μια ιστορία από ένα Τουρκοκύπριο αναγνώστη «Οι χωματερές της Επηχούς και της Μαράθας είναι οι ίδιες…»

Μια ιστορία από ένα Τουρκοκύπριο αναγνώστη «Οι χωματερές της Επηχούς και της Μαράθας είναι οι ίδιες…»

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Τηλ: 99 966518

Ένας από τους αναγνώστες μου, ένας υπέροχος Τουρκοκύπριος που μας βοηθά για πολλά χρόνια τώρα για να βρούμε πιθανούς τόπους ταφής στην περιοχή της Μεσαορίας, έχει γράψει μια σύντομη ιστορία για το τι συνέβηκε σε εκείνους τους Ελληνοκύπριους που τους πήραν αιχμάλωτους πολέμου στη Βώνη, στο σπίτι της Φρόσως Δήμου και μετά όλοι «εξαφανίστηκαν» για πολλά χρόνια… Μια ομάδα Τουρκοκυπρίων από κοντινά χωριά τους είχε πάρει αιχμαλώτους… Σήμερα θέλω να μοιραστώ την ιστορία του… Μου έχει γράψει την ακόλουθη ιστορία μετά την ταυτοποίηση των οστών των πέντε Ελληνοκυπρίων που ήταν θαμμένοι στην χωματερή της Επηχούς, από την Κυπριακή Διερευνητική Επιτροπή Αγνοουμένων, και την επιστροφή τους στους συγγενείς τους για ταφή… Η αδελφή ενός από εκείνους τους Ελληνοκύπριους με ρώτησε για το πως είχε πεθάνει ο αδελφός της και αν υπέφερε, αν είχε βασανιστεί και ποιες ήταν οι συνθήκες…
Ζήτησα από τον Τουρκοκύπριο αναγνώστη μου που με βοηθά για πολλά χρόνια, να γράψει αυτά που ήξερε… Και κάθισε και έγραψε ένα γράμμα στην αδελφή εκείνου του «αγνοούμενου» Ελληνοκύπριου, του οποίου τα οστά βρέθηκαν στη χωματερή της Επηχούς…
Αυτή είναι η ιστορία του, και απευθύνεται προς την αδελφή ενός από τους «αγνοούμενους» Ελληνοκύπριους του οποίου τα οστά βρέθηκαν εκεί:
«Αγαπητή μου αδελφή,
Θα σου γράψω μια σύντομη ιστορία… Άκουσα ότι ήθελες να ξέρεις για το πως είχα σκοτωθεί… Έχουν περάσει χρόνια από τότε που σκοτώθηκα. Η μητέρα μου πέθανε, ο πατέρας μου πέθανε… Μετά που πέθαναν, τα οστά μου βρέθηκαν σε μια χωματερή…
Άκουσα ότι είπες «Ευχαριστώ το Θεό που η μητέρα μου και ο πατέρας μου πέθαναν πριν να μας δουν να θάβουμε τον αδελφό μας…»
Και άκουσα ότι είπες «Ο αδελφός μου ήταν σε μια χωματερή για πολλά χρόνια…»
Μην λυπάσαι… Δεν είναι σημαντικό για τους ίδιους τους νεκρούς το που βρίσκονται τα οστά τους… Όμως είναι σημαντικό για σένα… Αυτό το ξέρω… Θέλεις να θυμάσαι αυτόν που πέθανε, να θυμάσαι τον παλιό καιρό, να πηγαίνεις και να προσεύχεσαι για αυτόν… Εγώ δεν το χρειάζομαι αυτό.
Αυτό που χρειαζόμουν ήταν μέρες για να ζήσω… Μέρες για να είμαι ζωντανός…
Δεν μπόρεσα να έχω ούτε ένα παιδί…
Δεν μπόρεσα να κάνω έρωτα σε μια γυναίκα όσο ήθελα…
Ο ιδρώτας μου δεν αναμείχθηκε καν με τον ιδρώτα μιας γυναίκας όσο θα ήθελα…
Πεθάναμε για αυτούς που δεν ήξεραν το νόημα της ζωής, για τις απίστευτες τους ιδεολογίες… Οι ιδεολογίες τους δεν ήταν καν η δική μου ιδεολογία… Δεν ήταν καν μια σκέψη που θα ακολουθούσα μέχρι το τέλος…
Τότε γιατί πεθάναμε;
Πέθανα για την υπεράσπιση της χώρας μου… Αλλά χωρίς τιμή…
Όχι, όχι, δεν ήμουν εγώ που δεν είχα τιμή… Είναι αυτοί που με σκότωσαν, αυτοί είναι χωρίς τιμή.
Αυτό που κάνει ένα άνθρωπο, πραγματικό άνθρωπο είναι η τιμή του/της.
Η τιμή είναι ο αυτοσεβασμός ενός ανθρώπου.
Η τιμή είναι η αξία και ο σεβασμός που νιώθει ένα άτομο για τη δική του/της προσωπικότητα… Είναι η εσωτερική αξία ενός ανθρώπου…
Ένας άνθρωπος ζει για την τιμή του και σκοτώνει για την τιμή του…
Με την τιμή και τον αυτοσεβασμό, θα σκότωνε με το σεβασμό που νιώθει προς τον εχθρό. Σκοτώνει καθώς αγωνίζεται… Και μετά νιώθει σεβασμό προς το άτομο που σκότωσε διότι ο εχθρός του ήταν τόσο δυνατός και ατρόμητος…
Είχαμε τιμή, είχαμε αποδεχτεί την ήττα… Αλλά ήμασταν ατρόμητοι.
Παραδοθήκαμε χωρίς να φοβόμαστε το θάνατο… Αλλά είχαμε λάθος… Η ομάδα του εχθρού που μας συνέλαβε και μας σκότωσε δεν είχε τιμή. Ήταν μια τέτοια ομάδα χωρίς τιμή που έθαψαν τον εχθρό τους μέσα σε μια χωματερή.
Αν είχα ένα εχθρό, θα τον κρατούσα ψηλά… Διότι δεν θα πατούσα τη σκανδάλη ενάντια σε ένα εχθρό χωρίς τιμή. Δεν ήταν εχθροί μου… Αυτοί ήταν οι άνθρωποι που έκρυψαν τον τόπο ταφής μου, τον τάφο μου και έριξαν σκουπίδια από πάνω μου για να κρύψουν τον τόπο ταφής μου. Δεν μπορούν να είναι εχθροί μου…
Ο εχθρός μου θα ήταν αυτός που με αντιμετώπιζε, με κοίταζε στα μάτια και με πολεμούσε…
Οι εχθροί μου δεν είναι αυτοί που θα μας έβαζαν σε ένα φορτηγό μετά που παραδοθήκαμε και θα σκότωναν κάποιους από αυτούς στο φορτηγό χρησιμοποιώντας τις ξιφολόγχες τους… Αυτοί δεν μπορεί να είναι εχθροί μου… Αυτή η ομάδα ήταν μια ομάδα που δεν πήγε να πολεμήσει και μετά τον πόλεμο σφετερίστηκαν τη νίκη του πολέμου… Μια ομάδα αλητών…
Οι εχθροί μου θα έπρεπε να ήταν όσο έντιμοι όσο εγώ… Θα έπρεπε να ήταν έντιμοι έτσι ώστε να μην τραβήξουν όπλο και να πατήσουν τη σκανδάλη σε αυτούς που είχαν παραδοθεί.
Άκουσα ότι ρωτούσες για το πως είχαμε σκοτωθεί…
Αν αυτό θα σε κάνει να πονάς λιγότερο, θα σου πω, αλλά σε παρακαλώ μην κλάψεις…
Όταν χάσαμε τον πόλεμο, πήγαμε στο σπίτι μιας γυναίκας και ζητήσαμε καταφύγιο εκεί, στη Βώνη…
Μας έδωσε ρούχα… Μας έδωσε φαγητό να φάμε… Και στη συνέχεια αρχίσαμε να περιμένουμε τους στρατιώτες των Ηνωμένων Εθνών να έρθουν… Όμως το σπίτι στο οποίο βρισκόμασταν ήταν περιτριγυρισμένο από τον εχθρό (!) και παραδοθήκαμε… Όμως πριν να παραδοθούμε, είχαμε δώσει τα ονόματα μας για να τα γράψει η γυναίκα στης οποίας το σπίτι είχαμε βρει καταφύγιο.
Πολλοί από εμάς ήξεραν τον άντρα που μας πήρε αιχμάλωτους πολέμου. Τον ήξεραν και αυτόν και τον πατέρα του… Ο πατέρας του ήταν αυτός που είχε φάει το ψωμί κάποιων από εμάς που είχαμε παραδοθεί… Μας έβαλαν σε ένα φορτηγό… Όταν μας έπαιρναν στο φορτηγό χρησιμοποίησαν τις ξιφολόγχες τους για να μας τραυματίσουν. Επειδή δεν χωρούσαμε όλοι στο φορτηγό, και οι 45 μας, σκότωσαν ένα από εμάς για να υπάρχει χώρος… Ένας από εμάς πέθανε… Δεν μπορούσαμε καν να εξεγερθούμε για αυτόν που πέθανε… Μας πήραν μέσα από ένα μικρό χωριό στο πίσω μέρος του φορτηγού και πηγαίναμε προς το Τζιάος. Ενώ περνούσαμε από αυτό το μικρό χωριό που ονομάζεται Beykeuy, τα παιδιά μας παρακολουθούσαν… Αλλά πίστεψε με, δεν σκεφτόμασταν ότι πηγαίναμε για να σκοτωθούμε. Πολλοί από εμάς χαιρετούσαμε τα παιδιά που έπαιζαν στην άκρη του δρόμου ενώ περνούσαμε από εκείνο το χωριό. Και φυσικά τα παιδιά μας χαιρετούσαν πίσω…
Μας ακολουθούσε ένα στρατιωτικό τζιπ… Πάνω σε αυτό ήταν ένα όπλο τύπου Α4 και το τζιπ αυτό ήταν πίσω από το φορτηγό και μας ακολουθούσε… Ποτέ δεν πέρασε από το μυαλό μου ότι θα μας σκότωναν. Μας έπαιρναν ως αιχμάλωτους στο χωριό Τζιάος…
Ενώ περνούσαμε κοντά από ένα νεκροταφείο, το φορτηγό έστριψε σε ένα χωματόδρομο κοντά στο νεκροταφείο… Και τότε συνειδητοποιήσαμε ότι θα μας σκότωναν… Περίπου 500 μέτρα πιο κάτω μας κατέβασαν από το φορτηγό…
Θέλαμε να διαφύγουμε και μιλούσαμε μεταξύ μας, θα τρέχαμε και θα διαφεύγαμε… Και τότε ακούσαμε τον εκκωφαντικό ήχο… Την ίδια στιγμή, περίπου 25 από εμάς έπεσαν ο ένας πάνω στον άλλο. Κάποιοι από εμάς τραυματίστηκαν… Και μετά ο ήχος του πολυβόλου σταμάτησε. Είχε κολλήσει…
Ο άντρας που ήταν πίσω από το πολυβόλο φώναξε μια διαταγή και είπε «Σκοτώστε τους όλους!»
Τρέξαμε και μας ακολούθησαν… Μέσα σε χίλια μέτρα σκότωσαν όλους εκείνους που είχαν τραυματιστεί, ένα ένα… Με πυροβόλησαν από πίσω. Δεν υπέφερα… Έτρεξα με την ελπίδα να δραπετεύσω… Δίπλα μου ήταν δύο φίλοι μου με τους οποίους κειτόμασταν μαζί στη χωματερή για πολλά χρόνια…
Περίπου 20 από εμάς διέφυγαν…
Τρείς από εμάς, μας πυροβόλησαν από πίσω… Όταν κόλλησε το όπλο του εχθρού, ένας από την ομάδα μας σκοτώθηκε όταν του συνέθλιψαν το κρανίο…
Ένας από εμάς βρήκε καταφύγιο στο σπίτι μιας ηλικιωμένης Τουρκοκύπριας γυναίκας στην Επηχώ… Ήταν τραυματισμένος… Τον βρήκαν και τον πήραν από το σπίτι αυτό και έμπηξαν μια ξιφολόγχη στην πληγή του και τον πήραν στο κέντρο του χωριού… Τον σκότωσαν στο κέντρο του χωριού ενώ έβλεπαν οι άνθρωποι και μετά προσπάθησαν να κάψουν το σώμα του… Για πολλά χρόνια δεν έσκαψαν εκεί που είχε θαφτεί, παρόλο που ήξεραν τον τόπο του… Πραγματικά, γιατί δεν έσκαψαν για αυτόν για τόσα πολλά χρόνια; Ίσως ήξεραν κάτι που δεν ξέραμε εμείς… Πρόσφατα άρχισαν να σκάβουν για αυτόν και έγινε εμφανές ότι λόγω της μυρωδιάς, ένας από τους χωρικούς πήρε το καμένο του σώμα πιο πέρα και τον ξαναέθαψε κάτω από τους ευκάλυπτους… Οι ευκάλυπτοι κόπηκαν, αλλά μόνο ένας ευκάλυπτος έμεινε για να σηματοδοτεί τον τόπο ταφής τους, σαν μνημείο… Ίσως τελικά, θα βρουν τα οστά του και να τα επιστρέψουν στην οικογένεια του…
Όταν είχε σκοτωθεί και έπεσε στο έδαφος στο κέντρο του χωριού, πήραν τις μπότες του και τη ζώνη του και είπαν «Αυτά είναι καλά…»
Εννιά ή δέκα από εμάς χρησιμοποιηθήκαμε ως στόχος και σκοτωθήκαμε. Ένας από εμάς προσπάθησε να διαφύγει προς το χωριό όπου είχαμε παραδοθεί. Και αυτός ήταν τραυματισμένος αλλά δεν ξέρω τι απέγινε…
Άκουσα ότι ήσουν περίεργη για το πως πεθάναμε… Ότι ρωτούσες αν είχαμε βασανιστεί… Αν νιώσαμε φόβο συνειδητοποιώντας ότι θα πεθαίναμε…
Καταλάβαμε το θάνατο, αλλά δεν φοβηθήκαμε… Δεν νιώσαμε φόβο, αλλά η ομάδα των αντρών που υποτίθεται ήταν οι εχθροί μας δεν είχε καθόλου τιμή. Μας σκότωσαν χωρίς να αποδεχτούν ότι ήμασταν οι εχθροί τους και μας σκότωσαν χωρίς τιμή. Είχαμε πολεμήσει ένα πόλεμο για το τίποτα, διότι αυτή η ομάδα ανθρώπων δεν είχε τιμή. Η πίκρα που αισθανθήκαμε δεν ήταν επειδή πεθάναμε… Η έλλειψη τιμής σε αυτή την ομάδα αντρών ήταν αυτό που μας πίκρανε… Χωρίς να έχω αρκετό χρόνο για να κάνω έρωτα με μια γυναίκα, χωρίς να έχουμε χρόνο να έχω δικό μου παιδί… Αυτό είναι που με σκότωσε, πάνω από όλα…
Και αυτό που συνέβηκε σε μας σε αυτό το μικρό χωριό στη Μεσαορία, συνέβηκε και πιο πέρα… Με μια παρόμοια ομάδα αντρών από τη δική μας πλευρά που δεν είχε καθόλου τιμή και που σκότωσαν με τον ίδιο τρόπο, άοπλες, πολίτες γυναίκες και παιδιά και τις έθαψαν με τον ίδιο τρόπο που μας έθαψαν εμάς, σε μια χωματερή στη Μαράθα… Αυτοί χωρίς τιμή από τη δική μας πλευρά από την ΕΟΚΑ Β και αυτοί χωρίς τιμή από την άλλη πλευρά που μας πήραν από τη Βώνη ήταν σαν πανομοιότυπα δίδυμα στην ιδεολογία τους και την στάση τους και τον τρόπο που συμπεριφέρονταν – κανένας από αυτούς δεν πήγε στον πόλεμο για να πολεμήσει, αλλά προσπάθησαν να καταληστεύσουν την «νίκη» μετά τον πόλεμο… Κανένας από αυτούς δεν είχε την τιμή να σεβαστεί τον «εχθρό» τους και τους σκότωσαν και τους έθαψαν σε χωματερές… Κανένας από αυτούς δεν τιμωρήθηκε ποτέ από τις αρχές και στις δύο πλευρές… Αντιθέτως, καταλήστευσαν τα «οφέλη» και τα «λάφυρα» μετά τον πόλεμο και τους αντιμετωπίζουν σαν «ήρωες»…
Κειτόμασταν στη χωματερή για τόσα πολλά χρόνια μέχρι να βρουν τα οστά μας…
Έγιναν κηδείες για εμάς… Οι χωματερές της Επηχούς και της Μαράθας έγιναν η ντροπή της χώρας μας… Οι χωματερές της Επηχούς και της Μαράθας είναι οι ίδιες: Περιείχαν τα σώματα εκείνων που σκοτώθηκαν και κρύφτηκαν εκεί – τα σώματα μας, τα σώματα γυναικών και παιδιών και ηλικιωμένων αντρών, ανυπεράσπιστων ανθρώπων, ανθρώπων που θα έπρεπε να ήταν ζωντανοί, αλλά σκοτώθηκαν διότι έχουμε ανθρώπους και στις δύο κοινότητες που δεν νιώθουν καθόλου ντροπή και δεν έχουν καθόλου τιμή…
Έτσι αγαπητή αδελφή, όταν με σκέφτεσαι, να σκέφτεσαι όλους τους καλούς ανθρώπους που έζησαν και συνεχίζουν να ζουν σε αυτό το νησί με ανθρώπινη αξιοπρέπεια, προσπαθώντας να προστατεύσουν την ανθρώπινη αξιοπρέπεια όλων… Και να σκέφτεσαι όλους εκείνους τους ανθρώπους που δεν έχουν τιμή και ανθρώπινη αξιοπρέπεια και που έθαψαν σώματα εκείνων που σκότωσαν στην Επηχώ και στα χωριά Μαράθα-Σανταλλάρη-Αλόα… Αυτοί οι άνθρωποι χωρίς τιμή είναι ακριβώς οι ίδιοι παρόλο που μπορεί να μιλούν διαφορετικές γλώσσες: Είτε τουρκικά είτε ελληνικά, είτε είναι Τουρκοκύπριοι είτε Ελληνοκύπριοι… Όπως οι καλοί άνθρωποι αυτής της γης με ανθρώπινη αξιοπρέπεια είναι οι ίδιοι: είτε μιλούν τουρκικά είτε ελληνικά, είτε είναι Τουρκοκύπριοι είτε Ελληνοκύπριοι… Αναζήτησε εκείνους τους καλούς ανθρώπους αδελφή μου, και κράτα τους κοντά στην καρδιά σου… Διότι η ανθρωπιά είναι εκεί, όχι σε εκείνους που δεν έχουν τιμή και που ποζάρουν σαν «ήρωες»… Αναζήτησε τους πραγματικούς ήρωες της γης μας και κράτα τους σφικτά…. Αυτοί θα είναι η ελπίδα για το μέλλον…»

(Το άρθρο αυτό γράφτηκε από ένα Τουρκοκύπριο αναγνώστη του οποίου το όνομα είναι γνωστό και ασφαλές μαζί μας… Μας βοηθά με την ανεύρεση των πιθανών τόπων ταφής αγνοουμένων ατόμων και μας βοηθά να γράφουμε τις ιστορίες τους… Και αυτός είναι ένας από τους πραγματικούς ήρωες του νησιού μας… Τον ευχαριστώ για την ανθρωπιά του… - 9.4.2019)

Photos:

Τα πτώματα ανακαλύπτονται στην πρώην χωματερή στη Μαράθα το 1974
Έτσι φαινόταν η χωματερή τηςΕπηχούς το 2013

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper in Greek on the 2nd of June 2019, Sunday. A similar article was published in the YENIDUZEN newspaper in Turkish on the 9th of April 2019 and here is the link:

http://www.yeniduzen.com/murataga-ve-galatya-katliamlari-anlatilacak-13849yy.htm

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

From Tymbou to Aphania…

From Tymbou to Aphania…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 99 966518

One of my readers calls to tell me the following:
"While going from Tymbou to Louroudjina, on the right side of the road, there are some flags and a place like a monument for the martyrs. You would be going from the old road – now that a new road has been built, I do not know what the situation of the old road is…
While going from Tymbou to Louroudjina, this place would be on your right, a few hundred meters prior to the old farm. I believe that there had been a farm there, a farm set up by the Jewish people in old times called "The Margo Farm"… So this place is close and across that old farm, few hundred meters before you get to the farm.
Maybe that monument was built there as a symbol or something…
An old Turkish Cypriot from the former underground organisation had told me that they had buried some "missing" Greek Cypriots there and each time I was going through that old road going to Louroudjina, I was staring at this place, thinking of what he had told me…
This old Turkish Cypriot from the former underground organisation was in fact from Louroudjina and he was claiming that some Greek Cypriots who had gone "missing" from Assia had been buried there… The old man who had told me these is no longer alive…"
I would start investigating about this place and call another reader and he would tell me the following:
"The place you are talking of is a place prior to Kirklar, close to the area where the new section of the airport in Tymbou is being built. It is in a fenced area and I think it belongs to the Ercan Airport. While putting up these flag posts, they had opened the fences and put them up and then closed the fences anyway… I think they put a stone there and had written the names of some martyrs, perhaps the names of martyrs from a certain unit and they had even planted some trees there… What they planted there grew and became big trees… So while passing as you look at that place, due to the trees they had planted, it is difficult to see the monument…"
In January 2019, I have informed the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee about this place and asked them that if they like, we can try to go together to check it out and to do further investigation…
Was this old man from the underground organisation telling the truth or did he imagine these things? Without further investigation, it is difficult to find out… But one other reader expressed his views about this saying that we need to see if this place with the flags and the monument is visible to UNFICYP since they patrol some areas there and he questioned what my reader had told me, saying "Why bury people in a place, if it is visible to the UN patrols? You need to tell this to the CMP so that they check where the UNFICYP is doing patrols…"
Together with an official from CMP, we had tried to locate some Turkish Cypriots who might have been responsible in that time period because my reader who told me the story he had heard from the old man said further that "Those Greek Cypriots who had been killed and who are "missing" had been buried there around the 17th-18th of August 1974… The old man had gone there and saw the burial and had learned what had happened and told them 'Why you did this? We have Turkish Cypriots who are prisoners of war in the southern part of the island… If the Greek Cypriots find out what you have done here, they will start killing our prisoners of war…' I believe the old man's story is genuine, but you check it out and do further investigations…"
I thank all my readers for speaking to me and giving me details… I have shared everything they have said with the officials of the CMP… Let's see what further investigation will bring to us…
Another reader calls me and wants to meet with me face to face… I do not know him, so I arrange to meet with him to see what he has to say…
He tells me the following:
*** I have just found out something that is connected with a well that the CMP had dug years ago – they had been looking for a "missing" skull… You had written the story of the "missing" skull more than ten years ago… The skull was acquired by the father of a girl from Aphania studying medicine in Istanbul in return for two truckloads of manure and then she tried to take it to Istanbul and was caught in the scan since she had put it in her handbag… It is about that skull… As I found out, the CMP was looking for the skull in the wrong well… They had dug a well and did not find anything – I believe that well is still open. Since after the digging they did not fully close that well, the villagers are throwing their trash in there.
*** One of my friends told me that he had seen the exhumations, he knew that the CMP was digging the wrong well, but he did not go and speak to them since he did not want to be involved with these things. "That skull is in another well about 100 meters away from the well they dug" he told me. If the CMP would search the wells in that area, they will find the skull of a "missing" Greek Cypriot. If the bulldozer scratches the surface, they will find the mouth of that well… The skull is in a closed well…
I had written about the "missing skull" of a Greek Cypriot more than ten years ago in YENIDUZEN and in POLITIS. We had even gone with the officials of the CMP and a Greek Cypriot reader in order to do investigations about the possible burial site of the skull in Aphania on the 21st of July 2010.
What was the story of the "missing skull" that I had written more than 10 years ago?
A student from Aphania studying to become a doctor at a medical university in Istanbul asked from her father to find her a skull. Her lecturers had asked that so that she could study the skull during her classes. Her father would go to the coffee shop in Aphania and had found the bulldozer operator who had buried "missing" Greek Cypriots during the war in 1974 and said to him, "My daughter will become a doctor, her professors gave her a task to find a human skull because she needs to study the skull. Can you find me a skull please?"
The bulldozer operator would tell him, "If you give me two truckloads of manure (gubri), I would get you a skull…"
So the father of the girl studying medicine and the shiro operator would agree. A skull in return for two truckloads of manure…
The bulldozer operator would immediately go to behind the church in Aphania where a number of Greek Cypriots were killed and buried in a mass grave on the banks of a stream. Since he had buried them, he knew the place. He would open the mass grave, take a skull and then in return for two truckloads of manure, would give the skull to the father of the girl studying medicine. The girl would be happy that her father had found her the skull that her teachers had asked from her and while going back to Istanbul, would put this skull in her handbag and would go to the Ercan Airport… This was around 1995…
While passing her hand luggage through the scan at the airport, the policeman checking the luggage would be shocked…
He would ask her, "What is this?????!!!!"
And she would answer him, "That's my homework. My father gave two truckloads of manure (gubri) for that skull, don't you take it!"
Of course the police would take it and would take the girl's father and the bulldozer operator to the police station in Mora. The police would take the skull…
My Greek Cypriot reader with whom we went to Aphania says that he had learned what had happened to the skull from some of his Turkish Cypriot friends… According to the story told to him, the police gave this skull to a teacher in Aphania saying "Take this and make it disappear… It became a curse!" And the teacher would take it and throw it in a well behind the school in Aphania and make it "disappear"….
On the 21st of July 2010 with this reader and with the officials of CMP of that time, Xenophon Kallis, Murat Soysal and Okan Oktay we go to Aphania, find the school and try to search for the well… Kallis finds an open well, half filled with soil… Was this the well that some Turkish Cypriots of Aphania were talking about?
The CMP digs that well but finds nothing and the story fades away until this reader contacts me to remind me of the story of the "missing skull"…
I thank my reader and will continue to work to find more information about the well… As always, I have also informed the Turkish Cypriot and Greek Cypriot officials of the CMP about this new information…
My reader promised to show me where the well is so that I can show it to the CMP… He says he does not want to be involved with CMP but wants to help anonymously… And that is fine with me…
(Note to my readers: When the skull was found in the handbag of the young medical student at Ercan Airport and she was taken to the Mora police station, the policemen would also call the bulldozer operator there… Later on, some officials would ask the bulldozer operator to take them to the mass grave from where he took the skull to show them and they would do an "operation" to empty this mass grave – they would empty partially and take the remains to outside Phota village… Years later the group of persons buried in that mass grave would be found – some in Aphania, some in Phota…)

2.3.2019

Photo: Kallis investigating the well behind school in 2010...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper in Greek on the 24th of March, 2019, Sunday. Similar articles were published in the YENİDÜZEN newspaper in Turkish on the 1st of March 2019 and the 28th of January 2019 and here are the links:

http://www.yeniduzen.com/lefke-kseroda-cmc-bolgesine-yumusak-topraklarin-bulundugu-yere-bazi-kibrislirumlar-g-13554yy.htm

http://www.yeniduzen.com/kuyuya-atilan-kafatasini-yanlis-kuyuda-aradiydilar-13685yy.htm

Από την Τύμπου στην Αφάνεια…

Από την Τύμπου στην Αφάνεια…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Τηλ: 99 966518

Ένας από τους αναγνώστες μου τηλεφωνά για να μου πει τα ακόλουθα:
«Καθώς πηγαίνεις από την Τύμπου στη Λουρουτζίνα, στη δεξιά πλευρά του δρόμου, υπάρχουν κάποιες σημαίες και ένα μέρος σαν μνημείο για τους μάρτυρες. Έτσι όπως θα πήγαινες από τον παλιό δρόμο – τώρα που έχει κατασκευαστεί νέος δρόμος, δεν ξέρω την κατάσταση του παλιού δρόμου…
Στην κατεύθυνση από την Τύμπου στη Λουρουτζίνα, το μέρος αυτό βρίσκεται στα δεξιά σου, μερικές εκατοντάδες μέτρα πριν από την παλιά φάρμα. Πιστεύω ότι υπήρχε φάρμα εκεί, μια φάρμα που δημιούργησαν Εβραίοι τον παλιό καιρό και ονομαζόταν «Φάρμα Margo»… Το μέρος αυτό είναι κοντά και απέναντι από εκείνη την παλιά φάρμα, μερικές εκατοντάδες μέτρα πριν να φτάσεις στη φάρμα.
Ίσως εκείνο το μνημείο να είχε κτιστεί εκεί ως σύμβολο ή κάτι…
Ένας ηλικιωμένος Τουρκοκύπριος από την πρώην υπόγεια οργάνωση μου είχε πει ότι εκεί είχαν θάψει κάποιους «αγνοούμενους» Ελληνοκύπριους και κάθε φορά που περνούσα από εκείνο τον παλιό δρόμο πηγαίνοντας στη Λουρουτζίνα, κοίταζα το μέρος αυτό και σκεφτόμουν αυτά που μου είχε πει…
Αυτός ο ηλικιωμένος Τουρκοκύπριος από την πρώην υπόγεια οργάνωση ήταν στην πραγματικότητα από τη Λουρουτζίνα και ισχυριζόταν ότι εκεί είχαν θαφτεί κάποιοι Ελληνοκύπριοι που είχαν γίνει «αγνοούμενοι» από την Άσσια… Ο ηλικιωμένος άντρας που μου τα είχε πει αυτά δεν ζει πλέον…»
Άρχισα να ερευνώ για το μέρος αυτό και τηλεφώνησα σε ένα άλλο αναγνώστη ο οποίος μου είπε τα ακόλουθα:
«Το μέρος στο οποίο αναφέρεσαι είναι ένα μέρος πριν από το χωριό Kirklar, κοντά στην περιοχή που κτίζεται το νέο τμήμα του αεροδρομίου στην Τύμπου. Είναι σε μια περιφραγμένη περιοχή και νομίζω ανήκει στο αεροδρόμιο Ercan. Ενώ τοποθετούσαν αυτούς τους ιστούς σημαίας, είχαν ανοίξει την περίφραξη και τους έβαλαν και μετά έκλεισαν ξανά την περίφραξη… Νομίζω ότι έβαλαν μια πέτρα εκεί και είχαν γράψει τα ονόματα κάποιων μαρτύρων, ίσως τα ονόματα των μαρτύρων από μια συγκεκριμένη μονάδα και φύτεψαν επίσης και κάποια δέντρα εκεί… Αυτά που φύτεψαν μεγάλωσαν και έγιναν μεγάλα δέντρα… Έτσι καθώς περνάς και κοιτάζεις το μέρος αυτό, λόγω των δέντρων που είχαν φυτέψει, είναι δύσκολο να δεις το μνημείο…»
Τον Ιανουάριο του 2019, είχα ενημερώσει τους λειτουργούς της Κυπριακής Διερευνητικής Επιτροπής Αγνοουμένων για το μέρος αυτό και τους ζήτησα αν ήθελαν, να προσπαθήσουμε να πάμε μαζί για να το ελέγξουμε και να κάνουμε περαιτέρω έρευνες…
Άραγε αυτός ο ηλικιωμένος άντρας από την υπόγεια οργάνωση έλεγε την αλήθεια ή τα φαντάστηκε αυτά τα πράγματα; Χωρίς περαιτέρω έρευνες, είναι δύσκολο να το μάθουμε… Όμως ένας άλλος αναγνώστης εξέφρασε τις απόψεις του για αυτό, λέγοντας ότι χρειάζεται να δούμε αν το μέρος αυτό με τις σημαίες και το μνημείο είναι ορατό στην UNFICYP αφού περιπολούν κάποιες περιοχές εκεί και αμφισβήτησε αυτά που μου είχε πει ο αναγνώστης μου λέγοντας «Γιατί να θάψουν ανθρώπους σε ένα μέρος αν το μέρος αυτό είναι ορατό στις περιπολίες των ΗΕ; Πρέπει να το πεις αυτό στη ΔΕΑ έτσι ώστε να ελέγξουν τα μέρη που κάνει περιπολίες η UNFICYP…»
Μαζί με ένα λειτουργό από τη ΔΕΑ, προσπαθήσαμε να εντοπίσουμε κάποιους Τουρκοκύπριους που μπορεί να ήταν υπεύθυνοι εκείνη την εποχή, εφόσον ο αναγνώστης μου που μου είπε την ιστορία που είχε ακούσει από τον ηλικιωμένο άντρα είπε επίσης ότι «Εκείνοι οι Ελληνοκύπριοι που είχαν σκοτωθεί και που είναι «αγνοούμενοι» είχαν θαφτεί εκεί γύρω στις 17-18 Αυγούστου 1974… Ο ηλικιωμένος άντρας είχε πάει εκεί και είδε την ταφή και έμαθε τι είχε συμβεί και τους είπε «Γιατί το κάνατε αυτό; Έχουμε Τουρκοκύπριους που είναι αιχμάλωτοι πολέμου στο νότιο μέρος του νησιού… Αν οι Ελληνοκύπριοι μάθουν αυτό που κάνατε εδώ, θα αρχίσουν να σκοτώνουν τους αιχμαλώτους μας…» Πιστεύω ότι η ιστορία του ηλικιωμένου άντρα είναι αληθινή, αλλά ελέγξετε την και ερευνήστε περισσότερο…»
Ευχαριστώ όλους τους αναγνώστες μου που μου μιλούν και μου δίνουν λεπτομέρειες… Μοιράστηκα όλα όσα μου έχουν πει με τους λειτουργούς της ΔΕΑ… Ας δούμε τι θα μας φέρουν οι περαιτέρω έρευνες…
Ένας άλλος αναγνώστης μου τηλεφωνά και θέλει να με συναντήσει… Δεν τον γνωρίζω έτσι κανονίζω να συναντηθώ μαζί του για να δω τι έχει να πει…
Μου λέει τα ακόλουθα:
*** Μόλις έχω ανακαλύψει κάτι που συνδέεται με ένα πηγάδι που είχε σκάψει η ΔΕΑ πριν από χρόνια – έψαχναν για ένα «αγνοούμενο» κρανίο… Είχες γράψει την ιστορία του «αγνοούμενου» κρανίου πριν από περισσότερο από δέκα χρόνια… Το κρανίο αποκτήθηκε από τον πατέρα ενός κοριτσιού από την Αφάνεια που σπούδαζε ιατρική στην Istanbul σε αντάλλαγμα για δύο φορτηγά κοπριάς και μετά προσπάθησε να το πάρει στην Istanbul και την έπιασαν στον έλεγχο αφού το είχε βάλει στην τσάντα της… Είναι για εκείνο το κρανίο… Όπως ανακάλυψα, η ΔΕΑ έψαχνε για εκείνο το κρανίο σε λάθος πηγάδι…
Είχαν σκάψει ένα πηγάδι και δεν βρήκαν τίποτα – πιστεύω ότι εκείνο το πηγάδι είναι ακόμα ανοικτό. Επειδή μετά την εκσκαφή δεν είχαν κλείσει πλήρως το πηγάδι, οι χωρικοί ρίχνουν τα σκουπίδια τους εκεί.
*** Ένας από τους φίλους μου μου είπε ότι είχε δει τις εκσκαφές, ήξερε ότι η ΔΕΑ έσκαβε το λάθος πηγάδι, αλλά δεν πήγε να τους μιλήσει αφού δεν ήθελε να ασχοληθεί με αυτά τα πράγματα. «Εκείνο το κρανίο είναι σε ένα άλλο πηγάδι περίπου 100 μέτρα μακριά από το πηγάδι που έσκαψαν» μου είπε. Αν η ΔΕΑ ερευνήσει τα πηγάδια σε εκείνη την περιοχή, θα βρούνε το κρανίο ενός «αγνοούμενου» Ελληνοκύπριου. Αν οι μπουλντόζες σκάψουν λίγο την επιφάνεια, θα βρουν το στόμιο εκείνου του πηγαδιού… Το κρανίο βρίσκεται σε ένα κλειστό πηγάδι…
Είχα γράψει για το «αγνοούμενο κρανίο» ενός Ελληνοκύπριου πριν από περισσότερο από δέκα χρόνια στις εφημερίδες YENIDUZEN και ΠΟΛΙΤΗΣ. Πήγαμε ακόμα και με τους λειτουργούς της ΔΕΑ και ένα Ελληνοκύπριο αναγνώστη για να ερευνήσουμε τον πιθανό τόπο ταφής το κρανίου στην Αφάνεια στις 21 Ιουλίου 2010.
Ποια ήταν η ιστορία του «αγνοούμενου κρανίου» για το οποίο είχα γράψει πριν από περισσότερο από 10 χρόνια;
Μια φοιτήτρια από την Αφάνεια που σπούδαζε ιατρική σε ιατρική σχολή στην Istanbul ζήτησε από τον πατέρα της να της βρει ένα κρανίο. Οι καθηγητές της το είχαν ζητήσει έτσι ώστε να μελετήσει το κρανίο στη διάρκεια των μαθημάτων της. Ο πατέρας της πήγε στο καφενείο στην Αφάνεια και βρήκε τον χειριστή μπουλντόζας που είχε θάψει «αγνοούμενους» Ελληνοκύπριους στη διάρκεια του πολέμου το 1974 και του είπε, «Η κόρη μου θα γίνει γιατρός, οι καθηγητές της της ζήτησαν να βρει ανθρώπινο κρανίο εφόσον το χρειάζεται για να μελετήσει το κρανίο. Μπορείς να μου βρεις ένα κρανίο σε παρακαλώ;»
Ο χειριστής μπουλντόζας του είπε «Αν μου δώσει δύο φορτηγά γεμάτα κόπρι, θα σου βρω ένα κρανίο…»
Έτσι συμφώνησαν ο πατέρας του κοριτσιού που σπούδαζε ιατρική και ο χειριστής μπουλντόζας. Ένα κρανίο σε αντάλλαγμα για δύο φορτηγά κόπρι…
Ο χειριστής μπουλντόζας πήγε αμέσως πίσω από την εκκλησία στην Αφάνεια όπου σκοτώθηκε ένας αριθμός Ελληνοκυπρίων και θάφτηκαν σε ένα μαζικό τάφο στις όχθες ενός ρέματος. Αφού τους είχε θάψει, ήξερε το μέρος. Άνοιξε το μαζικό τάφο, πήρε ένα κρανίο και μετά σε αντάλλαγμα για δύο φορτηγά κοπριάς έδωσε το κρανίο στον πατέρα του κοριτσιού που σπούδαζε ιατρική. Το κορίτσι ήταν χαρούμενο που ο πατέρας της βρήκε το κρανίο που ζήτησαν οι καθηγητές της και καθώς πήγαινε πίσω στην Istanbul, έβαλε το κρανίο στην τσάντα της και πήγε στο αεροδρόμιο Ercan… Αυτό ήταν γύρω στο 1995…
Καθώς περνούσε τις χειραποσκευές της από τον έλεγχο στο αεροδρόμιο, ο αστυνομικός που έλεγχε τις αποσκευές σοκαρίστηκε…
Τη ρώτησε «Τι είναι αυτό;;;;;!!!!»
Και του απάντησε «Είναι η εργασία μου. Ο πατέρας μου έδωσε δύο φορτηγά κοπριάς για το κρανίο αυτό, μην το πάρετε!»
Φυσικά η αστυνομία το πήρε και πήραν τον πατέρα του κοριτσιού και τον χειριστή μπουλντόζας στον αστυνομικό σταθμό στη Μόρα. Η αστυνομία πήρε το κρανίο…
Ο Ελληνοκύπριος αναγνώστης μου, με τον οποίο πήγαμε στην Αφάνεια, λέει ότι είχε μάθει τι είχε συμβεί στο κρανίο από κάποιους Τουρκοκύπριους φίλους του… Σύμφωνα με την ιστορία που του είπαν, η αστυνομία έδωσε το κρανίο αυτό σε ένα δάσκαλο στην Αφάνεια και του είπαν «Πάρε το κρανίο αυτό και εξαφάνισε το… Έχει γίνει μια κατάρα!» Και ο δάσκαλος το πήρε και το έριξε σε ένα πηγάδι πίσω από το σχολείο στην Αφάνεια και το «εξαφάνισε»…
Στις 21 Ιουλίου 2010, μαζί με αυτόν τον αναγνώστη και τους τότε λειτουργούς της ΔΕΑ Ξενοφώντα Καλλή, Murat Soysal και Okan Oktay πήγαμε στην Αφάνεια, βρήκαμε το σχολείο και προσπαθήσαμε να ψάξουμε για το πηγάδι… Ο Καλλής βρήκε ένα ανοικτό πηγάδι, μισογεμάτο με χώμα… Ήταν άραγε αυτό το πηγάδι στο οποίο αναφέρονταν κάποιοι Τουρκοκύπριοι από την Αφάνεια;
Η ΔΕΑ σκάβει εκείνο το πηγάδι αλλά δεν βρίσκει τίποτε και η ιστορία χάνεται μέχρι που αυτός ο αναγνώστης επικοινωνεί μαζί μου για να μου θυμίσει την ιστορία του «αγνοούμενου κρανίου»…
Ευχαριστώ τον αναγνώστη μου και θα συνεχίσω να εργάζομαι για να βρω περισσότερες πληροφορίες για το πηγάδι… Όπως πάντα, έχω επίσης ενημερώσει τους Τουρκοκύπριους και Ελληνοκύπριους λειτουργούς της ΔΕΑ για αυτές τις νέες πληροφορίες…
Ο αναγνώστης μου υποσχέθηκε να μου δείξει που βρίσκεται το πηγάδι έτσι ώστε να το δείξω στη ΔΕΑ… Λέει ότι δεν θέλει να εμπλακεί με τη ΔΕΑ, αλλά θέλει να βοηθήσει ανώνυμα… Και αυτό είναι εντάξει μαζί μου…
(Σημείωση για τους αναγνώστες μου: Όταν βρέθηκε το κρανίο στην τσάντα της νεαρής φοιτήτριας ιατρικής στο αεροδρόμιο Ercan και την πήραν στον αστυνομικό σταθμό στη Μόρα, οι αστυνομικοί κάλεσαν εκεί και τον χειριστή μπουλντόζας… Αργότερα, κάποιοι λειτουργοί ζήτησαν από τον χειριστή μπουλντόζας να τους πάρει στον μαζικό τάφο από όπου πήρε το κρανίο και να τους δείξει το μέρος και έκαναν μια «επιχείρηση» για να αδειάζουν αυτό το μαζικό τάφο – άδειασαν μερικώς το μαζικό τάφο και πήραν τα οστά έξω από το χωριό Φώτα… Μετά από χρόνια βρέθηκε αυτή η ομάδα ατόμων που θάφτηκε σε εκείνο το μαζικό τάφο – κάποιοι στην Αφάνεια και κάποιοι στο χωριό Φώτα…)

Photo: Ο Καλλής ερευνά το πηγάδι πίσω από το σχολείο το 2010…

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper in Greek on the 24th of March, 2019, Sunday. Similar articles were published in the YENİDÜZEN newspaper in Turkish on the 1st of March 2019 and the 28th of January 2019 and here are the links:

http://www.yeniduzen.com/lefke-kseroda-cmc-bolgesine-yumusak-topraklarin-bulundugu-yere-bazi-kibrislirumlar-g-13554yy.htm

http://www.yeniduzen.com/kuyuya-atilan-kafatasini-yanlis-kuyuda-aradiydilar-13685yy.htm

My childhood memories…

My childhood memories…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 99 966518

Last week I travel from Nicosia to Agios Ermolaos to go and meet a witness about possible burial sites in the village and the view is simply breath-taking! Such green and such yellow and red spots here and there: The red field tulips that grow naturally – babarunes in Cypriot Greek and Horoz Lalesi in Cypriot Turkish – if there are no pesticides in the fields… Agios Ermolaos, after the rains even has its own little lake to feel proud of…
For kilometres, there is nothing – just open fields and a few factories here and there for chicken that belong to Haciali from Shilloura… I think Haciali's grandfather was from Agia Marina – the mixed Maronite and Turkish Cypriot village which has become a ghost village after 1974… I remember Mustafa Hadjiali from my childhood, a tall, dark man with a thin moustache who had a shop selling chicken in the bandabuliya – old market – of Nicosia called "Chicken of Krini (Kirni)". He had a chicken farm and was selling chicken and eggs… He also had a shop upstairs near the side entrance of the bandabuliya where there was a sewing shop and a lot of young girls sewing clothes there… This shop was adjacent to the house of Gianni and Kakoullou Ellinas, who had been killed in 1963 and who are still "missing" – I had written their stories on these pages and each time I pass from there, I remember Kakoullou from Yialousa and her incredible and tragic life…
So this sewing workshop was adjacent to the house of Kakoullou and we would go with my sister and my mother so my sister could have a new dress fitting or to choose fabric for a party dress… She loved dressing up throughout her life and always had seamstresses sewing clothes for her… These were times when there was no such abundance of ready-made textiles in Cyprus yet – everyone was sewing and Singer sewing machines were something valuable to have in the house… For those who did not know how to sew or did not have a sewing machine, there were always seamstresses who worked in their houses and some had apprentices, young girls, who would learn to sew… Choosing the cloth, choosing buttons to go with it, choosing accessories were all part of this ritual and then the seamstress would take measurements and write it down and then the cutting of the cloth… Perhaps this was the most important part of it – whoever the seamstress was, she would be cutting it since she could not afford to make a mistake! And then there would be two dress provas (fittings) – the first fitting, where she would fix the dress according to the body of the customer and after a while, a second fitting where the dress would almost be finalized and where she would fix the accessories – if there was any – on the dress…
My sister Ilkay was married to Kutlu Adali and he was the private secretary of Denktash who was the community leader at the time in the Turkish Cypriot Communal Chamber. So my sister and her husband would be going to parties very often and she would have fantastic party dresses made out for her… I would go with her when she was buying the cloth for the dress - chiffons and taffetas and silks in beautiful colours and for the accessories we would cross together from the Ledras crossing to go to Diran where she would get shiny beads or feathers in green to sew on her dress and for beautiful buttons we would go to Yaghcioghlou who was – and still is – the expert for the buttons…
We were poor, my mother and me – my father died when I was seven years old, leaving debts of the house that he had built for us and my mother had a "fixed wage" of 20 Cypriot pounds… From this money, my mother had to support my brother who was studying in Ankara to become an electrical engineer, pay the debts to the bank and raise me… We had no money for such "luxuries" so my mother would make "new" dresses for me from her old clothes or my sister's clothes – she would sew the dress and then design beautiful embroidery with beads and different coloured threads and it would no longer be the old dress of mom or my sister. It would be something completely new… We never had money for coats for me so I would be wearing redesigned coats of my mother or my sister throughout my childhood and my youth until such time when I began to work and I could afford to buy my own clothes… Class differences were visible between the rich and the poor but my mother made sure that I would not feel unhappy and she would use all her creativity with buttons and beads and colourful threads to make something old look like brand new! She had learned sewing through her cousin Ulufer and even had sewn her own wedding gown… Ulufer's sister Tomris was a hat-maker and she knew how to make hats… They were the rich cousins of my mother – I think all my mother's cousins were rich except us since my father had committed the "sin" of refusing to join the underground organisation of the time, saying "I cannot kill anyone…" And the punishment would be to impoverish us, my father dying of a heart attack after getting out of prison, my mother working with a "fixed wage" and never given any raise for many years even though she was working like hell as head of the national Turkish Cypriot library… As a result, we would also pay for the stance of my father, my mother and me but this would never stop us from taking pleasure from life and the earth – even a tin box of buttons would make me so happy as a child…
Buttons were important – for every single shirt or dress or jumper or woollen sweater or sakko, you would choose different buttons according to the style and colour…
My mother always had at least three tin boxes of buttons – these were tin boxes of Milk Tray and Horniman's Tea and if she was changing a dress – cutting it to make it smaller for me – she would never throw away buttons but keep them in these tin boxes… Even if a dress or a coat was out of wear, she would keep the buttons…
And these tin boxes of buttons were what we played with as kids – when my sister's small children came to our houses, we would take the tin boxes of buttons and play with the buttons – making imaginary trains or cars, arranging them according to colour or to size and when finished, we would collect and fill the boxes with those buttons…
When you went to buy buttons for a dress or a coat from Yaghcioghlou or Munise or Djoshkoun (Coskun) or Zako, you always got a few more in case you lost a button so there would always be spare buttons in the house for such emergencies…
And then of course, my sister would have to find shoes and capes and bags to go with the dress… She had several shoemakers so she would go and as a kid I would accompany her – she is 14 years older than me so I would tag along with her whenever I could since I wanted to peek into the world of the grown-ups – and they would take measurements of her feet and her ankles and her calves and she would choose the colour of the leather from which she wanted boots or shoes and also design the model and then her boots or shoes would be ready no later than a week… I remember these shoe workshops where old men or young apprentices worked with wooden moulds where they would fix the leather with tiny nails and there would be the strong smell of glue and leather in the shop… Shoemaking was an art and all my mother's brothers knew how to do this – we even had a plaster cast of a child's shoe that they had used when making shoes…
So my sister would have red boots, green boots, blue shoes, purple shoes – shoes of all colours and kinds… There was no abundance of imported shoes back then – we only knew Clarks and Bata and the rest were made by shoemakers' cooperatives or individual shoe makers…
These shoes would last a long time and would not be damaged by rain and wear so you had a pair of shoes for school and you would wear them a whole year unless your feet grew…
As a child, I had Clarks shoes before my father had gone to prison and when we could afford to buy shoes from Clarks… My mother Turkan Uludagh in those times was thinking that the best shoes in the world were Clarks shoes… I remember those shoes and even have a photo that Kutlu Adali – the journalist and author who was murdered in 1996 and who was married to my sister – took… At that time, Kutlu Adali wanted to come into our family and was trying to convince my father Niyazi Uludagh to accept him as a son-in-law… So he was coming often to take my photos by the pond or at my birthday party and in one photo, I am sitting at a chaise longue and this must be my third birthday party… I am wearing a dress my mother has sewn for my birthday and I have a big white ribbon on my hair… I can read "Clarks" under my shoes from this photograph… Probably the shoes were brand new, for my third birthday – so this photo must have been taken in 1961…
I remember the shoemaker Kilich where together with my childhood friend Neshe Yashin, we had got identical pairs of red shoes with a shiny buckle on the side – these were such elegant shoes and the colour red gave us energy, making us feel as though we had magical shoes and we could do anything and go anywhere! We would roam the streets of old Nicosia within the walls, we would go to the Turkish Cypriot Communal Chamber to hear the Turkish Cypriot MPs debating various laws of the time and we would sit at the back, giggling and looking how this one sat or that one fell asleep! We were around the age 10 or 11 or 12… Those magical red shoes would take us to the library full of books where my mother worked or to her father's bookshop – again full of books – Ozker Yashin Kitabevi and we would read and read and read and write and write and write… Neshe would be writing poems and during the first years of the secondary school when we were around 12 years old, she would be reciting her poems at the poetry competitions at our school and winning prizes… I would be writing compositions and also poems, but my strength was the prose… Neshe's father when seeing one of my letters written to Neshe when I was in the USA as a Foreign Exchange student at the age of 15 with a Fulbright scholarship would point out to her that one day, I would become a writer… Back in Cyprus after the scholarship, he would also tell me that "Your pen is strong, you write well… You will be a writer…"
The red shoes we both remember because your family would only afford to get you a pair of shoes maybe once a year for an important occasion like starting of the new semester of the school year or your birthday or the Bayram or the New Year…
Travelling to Agios Ermolaos somehow brought back all these memories… My mother passed away, my father passed away, Neshe's mother and father passed away, Kutlu Adali was murdered and we remain on this earth to remember the old times and cherish our memories, even if some of them are bitter…

23.3.2019

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 31st of March 2019, Sunday.

Photos:

*** Both my mother's and my dress was sewn by mom for my birthday as we celebrate together in this photo of 1961... Photo taken by my sister's husband Kutlu Adalı, the journalist who was murdered in 1996...

*** This photo from my third birthday was taken by Kutlu Adali, my sister's husband back in 1961...

Αναμνήσεις από την παιδική μου ηλικία…

Αναμνήσεις από την παιδική μου ηλικία…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Τηλ: 99 966518

Την περασμένη βδομάδα ταξιδεύω από τη Λευκωσία στον Άγιο Ερμόλαο για να συναντήσω ένα μάρτυρα σχετικά με πιθανούς τόπους ταφής στο χωριό και η θέα απλά μου κόβει την ανάσα! Τέτοια χρώματα – πράσινο και κίτρινο και κηλίδες κόκκινου εδώ και εκεί: Οι κόκκινες παπαρούνες που φυτρώνουν φυσικά – παπαρούνες στην ελληνοκυπριακή διάλεκτο και horoz lalesi στην τουρκοκυπριακή – αν δεν υπάρχουν φυτοφάρμακα στα χωράφια… Ο Άγιος Ερμόλαος μετά τις βροχές, έχει ακόμα και τη δική του μικρή λίμνη για την οποία περηφανεύεται…
Για χιλιόμετρα, δεν υπάρχει τίποτα – μόνο χωράφια και μερικά εργοστάσια για κοτόπουλα εδώ και εκεί, που ανήκουν στον Haciali από την Σκυλλούρα… Νομίζω ότι ο παππούς του Haciali ήταν από την Αγία Μαρίνα – το μικτό μαρωνίτικο και τουρκοκυπριακό χωριό που μετά το 1974 έχει γίνει χωριό φάντασμα… Θυμούμαι τον Mustafa Hadjiali από την παιδική μου ηλικία, ήταν ένας ψηλός, μελαχρινός άντρας με λεπτό μουστάκι που πουλούσε κοτόπουλα στο παντοπωλείο στη Λευκωσία στο κατάστημα που ονομαζόταν «Κοτόπουλα της Κρηνής (Kirni)». Είχε φάρμα με κοτόπουλα και πουλούσε κοτόπουλα και αυγά… Είχε επίσης ένα κατάστημα πάνω, κοντά στην πλαϊνή είσοδο του παντοπωλείου που ήταν ραφτάδικο και εκεί πολλά νεαρά κορίτσια έραβαν ρούχα… Το κατάστημα αυτό ήταν δίπλα στο σπίτι του Γιάννη και της Κακουλούς Έλληνα, που είχαν σκοτωθεί το 1963 και που είναι ακόμα «αγνοούμενοι» - είχα γράψει την ιστορία τους σε αυτές τις σελίδες και κάθε φορά που περνώ από εκεί θυμούμαι την Κακουλού από τη Γιαλούσα και την απίστευτη και τραγική ζωή της…
Έτσι, το ραφτάδικο αυτό ήταν δίπλα από το σπίτι της Κακουλούς και πηγαίναμε μαζί με την αδελφή και τη μητέρα μου, για να πάρουν μέτρα της αδελφής μου για ένα καινούργιο φόρεμα ή να διαλέξει ύφασμα για ένα φόρεμα για πάρτι… Σε όλη της τη ζωή της άρεσε να ντύνεται όμορφα και πάντοτε είχε ράφταινες να της ράβουν ρούχα… Ήταν ο καιρός που στην Κύπρο ακόμα δεν υπήρχε αφθονία έτοιμων ρούχων – όλοι έραβαν και οι ραπτομηχανές Singer ήταν κάτι πολύτιμο αντικείμενο να υπάρχει στο σπίτι… Για αυτούς που δεν ήξεραν πως να ράβουν ή δεν είχαν ραπτομηχανή, πάντοτε υπήρχαν ράφταινες που εργάζονταν στα σπίτια τους και κάποιες είχαν μαθητευόμενες, νεαρά κορίτσια που μάθαιναν ράψιμο… Η επιλογή του υφάσματος, η επιλογή των κουμπιών, η επιλογή των αξεσουάρ ήταν όλα μέρος αυτής της τελετουργίας και τότε η ράφταινα μετρούσε και έγραφε κάτω τις μετρήσεις και μετά έκοβε το ύφασμα… Πιθανόν αυτό να ήταν το πιο σημαντικό μέρος της διαδικασίας – όποια και να ήταν η ράφταινα, έκοβε το ύφασμα η ίδια, αφού θα της κόστιζε αν έκανε λάθος! Και μετά γίνονταν δύο πρόβες του φορέματος – η πρώτη πρόβα όταν θα διόρθωνε το φόρεμα σύμφωνα με το σώμα της πελάτισσας και μετά από λίγο, μια δεύτερη πρόβα όταν το φόρεμα ήταν σχεδόν τελειωμένο και όταν θα τοποθετούσε πάνω στο φόρεμα τα αξεσουάρ, αν υπήρχαν…
Η αδελφή μου Ilkay ήταν παντρεμένη με τον Kutlu Adali, ο οποίος ήταν ο προσωπικός γραμματέας του Denktash που τότε ήταν ο ηγέτης της κοινότητας στην Τουρκοκυπριακή Κοινοτική Συνέλευση. Έτσι η αδελφή μου και ο σύζυγος της πήγαιναν πολύ συχνά σε πάρτι και είχε απίθανα φορέματα φτιαγμένα για την ίδια… Πήγαινα μαζί της όταν αγόραζε το ύφασμα για το φόρεμα – σιφόν και ταφτάδες και μεταξωτά σε όμορφα χρώματα και για τα αξεσουάρ περνούσαμε μαζί από το οδόφραγμα στην οδό Λήδρας για να πάμε στου Diran όπου αγόραζε αστραφτερές χάντρες ή φτερά σε πράσινο χρώμα για να ραφτούν πάνω στο φόρεμα της ή πηγαίναμε στου Yaghcioghlou για όμορφα κουμπιά που ήταν – και είναι ακόμα – ο ειδικός για τα κουμπιά…
Ήμασταν φτωχές, η μητέρα μου και εγώ – ο πατέρας μου πέθανε όταν ήμουν εφτά χρονών, αφήνοντας τα χρέη του σπιτιού που έκτισε για μας και η μητέρα μου είχε «σταθερό μισθό» 20 Κυπριακών λιρών… Με τα λεφτά αυτά, η μητέρα μου έπρεπε να συντηρεί τον αδελφό μου που σπούδαζε στην Άγκυρα ηλεκτρολόγος μηχανικός, να πληρώνει τα χρέη στην τράπεζα και να με μεγαλώνει εμένα… Δεν είχαμε λεφτά για τέτοιες «πολυτέλειες» έτσι η μητέρα μου έφτιαχνε για μένα «καινούργια» φορέματα από τα παλιά της ρούχα ή από τα ρούχα της αδελφής μου – έραβε το φόρεμα και μετά σχεδίαζε όμορφα κεντήματα με χάντρες και κλωστές με διάφορα χρώματα και δεν ήταν πια το παλιό φόρεμα της μητέρας ή της αδελφής μου. Θα ήταν κάτι εντελώς νέο… Ποτέ δεν είχαμε λεφτά για παλτά για μένα, έτσι σε όλη μου την παιδική και νεανική ηλικία φορούσα τα ξανασχεδιασμένα παλτά της μητέρας ή της αδελφής μου, μέχρι που ξεκίνησα να εργάζομαι και μπορούσα να αγοράσω τα δικά μου ρούχα… Οι ταξικές διαφορές ήταν ορατές μεταξύ των πλουσίων και των φτωχών, αλλά η μητέρα μου φρόντιζε να μην αισθάνομαι δυστυχισμένη και χρησιμοποιούσε όλη της την δημιουργικότητα με κουμπιά και χάντρες και χρωματιστές κλωστές για να κάνει κάτι παλιό να φαίνεται καινούργιο! Έμαθε να ράβει μέσω της ξαδέλφης της Ulufer και έραψε ακόμα και το νυφικό της… Η Tomris, αδελφή της Ulufer, ήταν καπελού και ήξερε να φτιάχνει καπέλα… Ήταν οι πλούσιες ξαδέλφες της μητέρας μου – νομίζω όλα τα ξαδέλφια της μητέρας μου ήταν πλούσιοι εκτός από εμάς αφού ο πατέρας μου διέπραξε την «αμαρτία» να αρνηθεί να ενταχθεί στην υπόγεια οργάνωση της τότε εποχής, λέγοντας «Δεν μπορώ να σκοτώσω κανένα…». Και η τιμωρία ήταν να μας φτωχύνουν, ο πατέρας μου να πεθάνει από καρδιακό επεισόδιο μετά την αποφυλάκιση του, η μητέρα μου να εργάζεται με «σταθερό μισθό» και ποτέ να μην πάρει αύξηση για πολλά χρόνια, παρόλο που εργαζόταν ασταμάτητα ως επικεφαλής της Τουρκοκυπριακής βιβλιοθήκης… Ως αποτέλεσμα, πληρώσαμε και εμείς για τη στάση του πατέρα μου, η μητέρα μου και εγώ, αλλά αυτό δεν μας σταμάτησε ποτέ από το να απολαμβάνουμε τη ζωή και τη γη – ακόμα και ένα μεταλλικό κουτί με κουμπιά με έκανε τόσο χαρούμενη όταν ήμουν παιδί…
Τα κουμπιά ήταν σημαντικά – για το κάθε πουκάμισο ή φόρεμα ή πουλόβερ ή μάλλινο τρικό ή σακάκι, διάλεγες διαφορετικά κουμπιά σύμφωνα με το στυλ και το χρώμα…
Η μητέρα μου πάντοτε είχε τουλάχιστον τρία μεταλλικά κουτιά γεμάτα με κουμπιά – αυτά ήταν μεταλλικά κουτιά από σοκολάτες Milk Tray ή τσάι Horniman's και αν διαφοροποιούσε ένα φόρεμα – κόβοντας το για να το μικρύνει για μένα – ποτέ δεν πέταγε τα κουμπιά αλλά τα φύλαγε σε αυτά τα κουτιά… Ακόμα και αν ένα φόρεμα ή παλτό ήταν φθαρμένο, φύλαγε τα κουμπιά…
Και ήταν με αυτά τα μεταλλικά κουτιά γεμάτα με κουμπιά που παίζαμε όταν ήμασταν παιδιά – όταν έρχονταν στο σπίτι μας τα μικρά παιδιά της αδελφής μου, παίρναμε τα μεταλλικά κουτιά με τα κουμπιά και παίζαμε με τα κουμπιά – φτιάχναμε φανταστικά τρένα ή αυτοκίνητα, τα τακτοποιούσαμε ανάλογα με το χρώμα ή το μέγεθος και όταν τελειώναμε, τα μαζεύαμε και γεμίζαμε τα κουτιά με τα κουμπιά…
Όταν πήγαινες στου Yaghcioghlou ή στη Munise ή στου Djoshkoun (Coskun) ή στη ΖΑΚΟ για να αγοράσεις κουμπιά για ένα φόρεμα ή παλτό, πάντοτε έπαιρνες μερικά παραπάνω σε περίπτωση που έχανες ένα κουμπί, έτσι πάντοτε υπήρχαν επιπλέον κουμπιά στο σπίτι για τέτοιες καταστάσεις…
Και φυσικά μετά, η αδελφή μου έπρεπε να βρει παπούτσια και κάπες και τσάντες που ταίριαζαν με το φόρεμα… Είχε διάφορους παπουτσήδες όπου πήγαινε και την συνόδευα όταν ήμουν παιδί – είναι 14 χρόνια μεγαλύτερη μου έτσι πήγαινα μαζί της όποτε μπορούσα, αφού ήθελα να κοιτάζω στον κόσμο των μεγάλων – και έπαιρναν μετρήσεις των ποδιών της και των αστραγάλων της και των κνημών της και επέλεγε το χρώμα του δέρματος από το οποίο ήθελε μπότες ή παπούτσια και επίσης σχεδίαζε το μοντέλο και μετά οι μπότες ή τα παπούτσια της ήταν έτοιμα σε λιγότερο από μια βδομάδα… Θυμούμαι αυτά τα εργαστήρια παπουτσιών όπου ηλικιωμένοι άντρες ή νεαροί μαθητευόμενοι δούλευαν με ξύλινα καλούπια όπου τοποθετούσαν το δέρμα με μικροσκοπικά καρφιά και στο κατάστημα υπήρχε η δυνατή μυρωδιά της γόμας και του δέρματος… Η κατασκευή παπουτσιών ήταν μια τέχνη και όλοι οι αδελφοί της μητέρας μου ήξεραν να φτιάχνουν παπούτσια – είχαμε ακόμα και καλούπι από γύψο για παιδικό παπούτσι που χρησιμοποιούσαν όταν έφτιαχναν παπούτσια…
Έτσι η αδελφή μου είχε κόκκινες μπότες, πράσινες μπότες, μπλε παπούτσια, μωβ παπούτσια – παπούτσια όλων των ειδών και χρωμάτων… Τότε δεν υπήρχε αφθονία εισαγόμενων παπουτσιών – γνωρίζαμε μόνο τα Clarks και τα Bata και τα υπόλοιπα φτιάχνονταν από συνεργατισμούς παπουτσήδων ή μεμονωμένους παπουτσήδες…
Τα παπούτσια αυτά άντεχαν πολύ καιρό και δεν καταστρέφονταν από τη βροχή ή την φθορά έτσι είχες ένα ζευγάρι παπούτσια για το σχολείο και τα φορούσες για ένα ολόκληρο χρόνο, εκτός και αν τα πόδια σου μεγάλωναν…
Όταν ήμουν παιδί είχα παπούτσια Clarks, πριν να πάει φυλακή ο πατέρας μου και όταν μπορούσαμε να αγοράσουμε παπούτσια Clarks… Η μητέρα μου Turkan Uludagh εκείνο τον καιρό θεωρούσε ότι τα καλύτερα παπούτσια στον κόσμο ήταν τα παπούτσια Clarks… Θυμούμαι εκείνα τα παπούτσια και έχω ακόμα και μια φωτογραφία που έβγαλε ο Kutlu Adali – ο δημοσιογράφος και συγγραφέας που δολοφονήθηκε το 1996 και που ήταν παντρεμένος με την αδελφή μου… Εκείνο τον καιρό, ο Kutlu Adali ήθελε να μπει στην οικογένεια μας και προσπαθούσε να πείσει τον πατέρα μου Niyazi Uludagh να τον δεχτεί ως γαμπρό του… Έτσι ερχόταν συχνά για να με βγάλει φωτογραφία δίπλα στη λίμνη ή στο πάρτι των γενεθλίων μου και σε μια φωτογραφία, κάθομαι σε μια ξαπλωτή πολυθρόνα και πρέπει να είναι τα τρίτα μου γενέθλια… Φορώ ένα φόρεμα που έραψε η μητέρα μου για τα γενέθλια μου και έχω ένα μεγάλο άσπρο φιόγκο στα μαλλιά μου… Σε αυτή τη φωτογραφία μπορώ να διαβάσω τη λέξη «Clarks» κάτω από τα παπούτσια μου… Πιθανόν τα παπούτσια ήταν ολοκαίνουργια, για τα τρίτα μου γενέθλια – έτσι η φωτογραφία αυτή πρέπει να τραβήχτηκε το 1961…
Θυμούμαι τον παπουτσή Kilich από όπου μαζί με την παιδική μου φίλη Neshe Yashin πήραμε πανομοιότυπα κόκκινα παπούτσι με γυαλιστερή μπούκλα στο πλάι – αυτά ήταν τόσο κομψά παπούτσια και το κόκκινο χρώμα μας έδινε ενέργεια, μας έκανε να νιώθουμε ότι είχαμε μαγικά παπούτσια και μπορούσαμε να κάνουμε οτιδήποτε και να πάμε οπουδήποτε! Γυρίζαμε τους δρόμους της παλιάς Λευκωσίας εντός των τειχών, πηγαίναμε στην Τουρκοκυπριακή Κοινοτική Συνέλευση για να ακούσουμε τους Τουρκοκύπριους βουλευτές να συζητούν διάφορους νόμους του καιρού και καθόμαστε στο πίσω μέρος, γελούσαμε και βλέπαμε πως αυτός καθόταν ή ο άλλος αποκοιμόταν! Ήμασταν 10 ή 11 ή 12 χρονών… Εκείνα τα μαγικά κόκκινα παπούτσια μας έπαιρναν στη βιβλιοθήκη που ήταν γεμάτη βιβλία όπου εργαζόταν η μητέρα μου ή στο βιβλιοπωλείο του πατέρα της – πάλι γεμάτο βιβλία – το βιβλιοπωλείο του Ozker Yashin και διαβάζαμε και διαβάζαμε και διαβάζαμε και γράφαμε και γράφαμε και γράφαμε… Η Neshe έγραφε ποιήματα και τα πρώτα χρόνια του γυμνασίου όταν ήμασταν περίπου 12 χρονών, απάγγελε τα ποιήματα της σε διαγωνισμούς ποίησης στο σχολείο μας και κέρδιζε βραβεία… Εγώ έγραφα εκθέσεις αλλά και ποιήματα, αλλά το δυνατό μου σημείο ήταν η πεζογραφία… Ο πατέρας της Neshe όταν είδε ένα από τα γράμματα που έγραψα στη Neshe όταν στην ηλικία των 15 χρονών βρισκόμουν στις ΗΠΑ ως μαθήτρια ανταλλαγής με υποτροφία Fulbright, της υπόδειξε ότι μια μέρα θα γινόμουν συγγραφέας… Όταν επέστρεψα στην Κύπρο μετά την υποτροφία, είπε και σε μένα επίσης ότι «Η πένα σου είναι δυνατή, γράφεις καλά… Θα γίνεις συγγραφέας…»
Θυμόμαστε και οι δύο τα κόκκινα παπούτσια διότι οι οικογένειες μας μπορούσαν να αγοράσουν ένα ζευγάρι παπούτσια ίσως μια φορά το χρόνο για μια σημαντική περίσταση όπως την έναρξη της σχολικής χρονιάς ή τα γενέθλια ή το Μπαϊράμι ή η Πρωτοχρονιά…
Με κάποιο τρόπο το ταξίδι προς τον Άγιο Ερμόλαο έφερε πίσω όλες αυτές τις αναμνήσεις… Η μητέρα μου πέθανε, ο πατέρας μου πέθανε, η μητέρα και ο πατέρας της Neshe πέθαναν, ο Kutlu Adali δολοφονήθηκε και εμείς παραμένουμε σε αυτή τη γη για να θυμούμαστε τον παλιό καιρό και να αγαπούμε τις αναμνήσεις μας, ακόμα και αν μερικές από αυτές είναι πικρές…

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 31st of March 2019, Sunday.

Photos:

1. Όλες οι φωτογραφίες αυτές τραβήχθηκαν το 1961 από τον Kutlu Adali, σύζυγο της αδελφής μου

2. Το φόρεμα της μητέρας μου και το δικό μου ράφτηκαν από τη μητέρα μου για τα γενέθλια μου καθώς γιορτάζαμε μαζί σε αυτή τη φωτογραφία του 1961

Sunday, March 17, 2019

ARŞİVİMİZDEN: “KAYIP” YAKINI SOFULLA LOİZU ANISINA…

ARŞİVİMİZDEN: "KAYIP" YAKINI SOFULLA LOİZU ANISINA…

Maraşlı Sofulla Loizu, "Komikebir'in zengini" olarak bilinen "kayıp" Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yla evlenmişti… Maraş'tan Komikebir'e gelin gitmişti… Ailesi, Maraş'taki Hotel Florida'nın sahibiydi…
Onunla 2010 yılı Temmuz ayında tanışmış ve kendisiyle "kayıp" eşine ilişkin bir röportaj yapmıştım… Bundan önce de Kayıplar Komitesi yetkililerine "kayıp" Andreas Pavlos Loizu'ya ilişkin bazı olası gömü yerlerini göstermiştik sevgili arkadaşım Komikebirli Hristina Pavlu Solomi Patça ve Loizu'nun oğlu Luiz Loizu ile birlikte…
Sofulla Hanım'ı dün kaybettik… Cenazesi 19 Mart 2019 Salı günü Eylence'de yapılacak ve ailesi tarafından toprağa verilecek…
Sofulla Hanım, 1974'te "kayıp" edilen eşini bir ömür boyu bekledi durdu… Bu dünyadan göçüp gitti ve "kayıp" eşinin gömü yeri hala bulunamadı…
Onun hatırasını saygıyla anıyor, ailesinin acısını paylaşıyorum…

Onunla 2010 Temmuzu'nda küçük göçmen evciğinde yapmış olduğum röportajı tekrar yayınlayarak, hayatını ve çektiği acıları okurlarımla bir kez daha paylaşmak istiyorum…

Işıklarda uyusun Sofulla Hanım…

YENİDÜZEN'de "Kıbrıs: Anlatılmamış Öyküler" başlıklı yazı dizimizde Sofulla Hanım'la yaptığımız röportaj Temmuz 2010'da yayımlanmıştı…


*** Kıbrıs: Anlatılmamış Öyküler…
Sevgül Uludağ

Caramel_cy@yahoo.com


*** Maraşlı Sofulla Loizu, "Komikebir'in zengini" olarak bilinen "kayıp" eşi Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yu anlatıyor...

Galatya'daki son esir: Komikebirli Andreas Pavlos Loizu...

"Komikebir'in zengini" olarak bilinen, uzun bir süre Galatya'da (Mehmetçik) savaş esiri olarak tutulan, sonra Lefkoşa'ya Arabahmet bölgesindeki Pavlides Garajı'na götürülerek "esir değiş-tokuşu"nda güneye gönderilmek istenen Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yu tanımış kadar oluyorum... Çok uzun boylu olduğunu, yemeyi, içmeyi, gezmeyi sevdiğini, çok çalışkan olduğunu, her dönem yanında ağırlıkla Karpaz köylerinden Kıbrıslıtürkler olmak üzere 60-70 kişi çalıştığını, zeytinlerinin, harnıplarının, tarlalarının haddi hesabı olmadığını, Karpaz'ın en zengin adamı olarak bilindiğini öğreniyorum. Onu tanıyan bir Kıbrıslıtürk bana "Pavlos o kadar iyi yürekli bir adamdı ki, biz 20 Temmuz 1974'te köyümüzden kaçıp da göçmen olduğumuz zaman, adam Komikebir'den çıkıp taa Kritya'ya (Kilitkaya) gitmiş ve orada tanıdıklarını bulmuş, göçmenlikte sıkı çekmeyelim diye bize bu tanıdıkları vasıtasıyla para göndermişti... Bu kadar düşünceli bir adamdı... Öldürülmeyi asla haketmemişti çünkü hem kendi köyündeki, hem de civar köylerdeki Kıbrıslıtürkler'e çok büyük iyilikleri dokanmıştı" diye anlatıyor.
Bir başka Kıbrıslıtürk, daha da ilginç bir öykü anlatıyor bana: Bir zamanlar Andreas Pavlos Loizu'nun bahçelerine bir Kıbrıslıtürk hırsız dadanmış... Zeytin zamanı, Loizu daha zeytinlerini toplatmaya geçmeden hemen önce bu adam gidip zeytinleri toplar, çalarmış... Harnıpları çalarmış... Andreas Pavlos Loizu çareyi bu Kıbrıslıtürk'e pasaport çıkarıp herşeyini ayarlayıp, Londra biletini de satın alıp onu İngiltere'ye göndermekte bulmuş! Böylece bu Kıbrıslıtürk hırsız, İngiltere'ye Andreas Pavlos Loizu tarafından yerleştirilmiş ve Loizu da hırsızın elinden kurtulmuş! "Varsın İngilizler düşünsündü ne yapacaklarını!" demişti bana bu adam...
Maraş'ta Konstantiya Otel'in (şimdiki Palm Beach Otel) hemen yanıbaşındaki Florida Hotel'in sahiplerinin kızı Sofulla ile evlenmiş... Dört çocukları olmuş, bunlardan iki oğluları ikizmiş...
Komikebir'deki evinden alınıp Galatya'ya götürülmüş. Galatya'da esirler gruplar halinde öldürülürken, o hala tutukluymuş. Onun sonuçta Galatya'da en son esir olarak kulüpte tutulduğunu hatırlayanlar var... Bir Kıbrıslıtürk şahit, "Beyaz atletiyle oturuyordu" diye anlatıyor...
Günlerden bir gün onu almışlar ve Lefkoşa'da Arabahmet bölgesinde savaş esirlerinin tutulduğu Pavlides Garajı'na götürmüşler... Burada onu "esir değiş-tokuşu"yla güneye göndermek istemişler. Fakat o, "Karım Komikebir'de, dört oğlumu gönderdim askere, şimdi ben güneye mi geçeceğim?" diyerek esir değiş-tokuşuyla güneye gönderilmeyi reddetmiş ve onu Pavlides Garajı'ndan alıp güya köyüne götürmek üzere yola koyulmuşlar. Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yla birlikte, Pavlides Garajı'ndan Karpaz'a götürülmekte olan bir kişi daha varmış: Yorgos Savvidis... Yorgos Savvidis'i Boğaz'da indirmişler ve yola devam etmişler. Yorgos Savvidis, aslen Trikomolu (Yeni İskele) imiş ancak Boğaz'da plajda kabinleri kiralayan kişi olduğu için, Boğaz'da yaşamaktaymış ve onu Boğaz'daki evine bırakmışlar... Fakat Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yu Boğaz'dan sonra nereye götürdükleri belli değil çünkü o "kayıp"... Komikebir'deki evine götürmek yerine, onun bazı Sazlıköylü (Livadya) Kıbrıslıtürkler tarafından öldürülmüş olduğu ve Galatya'daki (Mehmetçik) gölün üst başındaki bir tarlaya gömüldüğü yönünde yaygın söylentiler var. Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yla birlikte "hain" damgası vurularak 1974'te Galatya'daki Türk komutanın emriyle öldürülen ve nereye gömüldükleri bilinmediği için "kayıp" olan iki Kıbrıslıtürk'ün yani Cumali Gurtelli Kurtuluş ve Hüseyin Yahat'ın da aynı alana gömülmüş olduğu iddia ediliyor.
Geçtiğimiz günlerde, Andreas Pavlos Loizu'nun oğlu Luiz'le birlikte bu olası gömü yerini ve Galatya gölündeki başka olası toplu mezarları Kayıplar Komitesi'nin Kıbrıslıtürk ve Kıbrıslırum yetkililerine göstermiştik.
Galatya gölünün özelliği, şu anda kupkuru olması... Eğer Galatya gölünde bu yaz kazılar başlamazsa, yağmurlar düşmeye başladıktan sonra, burada kazı yapmak tümüyle imkansız hale gelecek ve Karpaz'dan "kayıp" edilmiş pek çok Kıbrıslırum'un akibeti gene belirsiz kalacak. Yağmurların geçmesi ve sıcak mevsimin gelmesi için bir yıl daha beklenecek... O nedenle Galatya gölündeki kazıların geciktirilmeden başlaması gerekiyor aksi halde yağmurlar başladığı zaman, bunun anlamı, Karpaz'ın "kayıpları"nın aranmasına bir yıl daha erteleme yapıldığı şeklinde algılanacak... Kayıplar Komitesi'nin Kıbrıslıtürk ve Kıbrıslırum yetkililerine önerimiz, bu yaz sona ermeden, Galatya gölünde kazılara girişilmesi... Henüz fırsat varken, bu göldeki olası toplu mezarlar kazılmalı ve Karpaz'ın "kayıpları", aranmaya başlanmalıdır...
Galatya'da ve Livadya'da (Sazlıköy) Kayıplar Komitesi yetkililerine olası gömü yerlerini gösterdiğimiz Komikebirli Hristina ve Andreas Pavlos Loizu'nun oğlu Luiz'in beklentisi de bu yönde... Komikebirli Hristina'nın babası Andreas Pavlos Solomi ile kardeşi Solomi Pavlu "kayıp" ve onların da Galatya göletinde gömülmüş olabileceği sanılıyor... Diğer "kayıp" Kıbrıslırumlar'la birlikte... Çünkü onlar da Komikebir'den alınıp Galatya'ya götürüldükten sonra, bir daha Galatya'dan ayrıldıkları görülmemiş...
Bir Kıbrıslıtürk şahit, "Aslında Hristina'nın kardeşi – ki o zamanlar henüz 17 yaşındaydı – Solomi'yi öldürmeyeceklermiş diye duymuştum fakat babasının alınmasına şiddetle karşı çıktığı, babasına sarıldığı için onu da alıp öldürmüşler" diye anlatıyor...
Luiz'le daha sonra buluşuyoruz ve beni Lefkoşa'nın Ballaryotissa bölgesindeki göçmen evciklerinde yaşayan annesi Sofulla'yla tanışmaya götürüyor...
"Ballaryotissa'da göçmen evcikleri bulunduğunu bilmiyordum" diyorum Luiz'e...
Sıra sıra göçmen evciklerinden birinin önünde duruyoruz, Sofulla Hanım, bahçeciğine bizi karşılamaya çıkıyor...
Beyaz saçları, maviş gözleriyle, 84 yaşındaki bu kadın, Komikebir'de yaşadığı korkunç trajediye karşın beni güler yüzle karşılıyor, içeri buyur ediyor... Pek çok fotoğraf albümü var, bunları karıştırıyoruz ve ben Andreas Pavlos Loizu'nun Sofulla Hanım'la ve evlatçıklarıyla çekilmiş fotoğraflarına bakıyorum... Fotoğraflarından anladığım, neşeli bir adammış – Londra'da Trafalgar Meydanı'nda güvercinler başına konmuş, Andreas Pavlos Loizu, bir arkadaşıyla birlikte güvercinlerin bu hallerine kahkahalarla gülüyor. Maraş'taki Florida Oteli'nde akşam yemeğinde, Sofulla Hanım'la gülüşüyorlar... Bir başka fotoğraf Davlos'tan... Davlos (Kaplıca) sahilinde, yeme-içmede, herkesin başında komik birer şapka ve Andreas Pavlos Loizu gene gülüyor... Ondan geriye yalnızca bu fotoğraflar kalmış ve Sofulla Hanım'la dört evladının hatıraları...
Sofulla Hanım'la röportajımızı yarın yayımlamaya başlıyoruz...



Kıbrıs: Anlatılmamış Öyküler...
Sevgül Uludağ

Caramel_cy@yahoo.com

*** Maraşlı Sofulla Loizu, "Komikebir'in zengini" olarak bilinen "kayıp" eşi Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yu anlatıyor...

Maraş'tan Komikebir'e gelin giden Sofulla Hanım...

Sofulla Loizu, "kayıp" eşi Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yu anlatıyor... Onunla röportajımız şöyle:

SORU: Sofulla Hanım, kaç yaşındasınız?
SOFULLA LOİZU: 82 yaşındayım...

SORU: Maraşlı'sınız...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet...

SORU: Andreas Pavlos Loizu'yla ne zaman evlendiydiniz?
SOFULLA LOİZU: 5 Mayıs 1949'da evlendiydik...

SORU: Onunla nasıl tanışmıştınız?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Kızkardeşimin eşiyle arkadaştı Andreas, öyle tanışmıştık...

SORU: Bu bir "aşk" evliliği miydi yoksa bir tür "görücü" usülü evlilik miydi?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Bir tür "görücü" usülüydü çünkü dediğim gibi bir arkadaşımızın arkadaşıydı... Şimdiki gibi değildi o zaman, şimdi "görücü usülü" evlilikleri kimsecikler kabul etmez yani!...

SORU: Evet... Nasıl birisiydi Andreas Pavlos Loizu?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Çok iyi bir insandı... Birlikte çok güzel bir hayat geçirdik...

SORU: Eğlenmeyi, gezmeyi seviyordu, albümlerdeki fotoğraflardan bunu anlıyorum...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet... Eşim spora da çok meraklıydı, ava çok meraklıydı, balık avcılığına da çok meraklıydı... Çocuklarıyla babadan çok arkadaş gibiydi...

SORU: Aileniz "Hotel Florida"nın sahibiydi...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet, Konstantiya Oteli'nin yanındaki oteldi bu Maraş'ta. Erkek kardeşim Yakovos Yokovu çalıştırıyordu bu oteli. Bizler üç kız, bir erkek kardeştik... En küçük erkek kardeşimiz henüz 17 yaşındayken kanserden vefat etmişti...

SORU: Maraş, oldukça kozmopolit bir yerdi... Siz Maraş gibi çok modern bir yerden bir köye, Komikebir'e (Büyükkonuk) gitmiştiniz. Nasıl başetmiştiniz bununla?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Başlangıçta bana birkaç yıllığına Komikebir'e gideceğimizi söylemişti eşim, birkaç yıl sonra Maraş'ta yaşamaya gidecektik. Başlangıçta benim için zor olmuştu Komikebir'e gitmek fakat sonra alışmıştım köye ve hoşuma da gitmişti Komikebir'de yaşamak... Keşke tüm hayatım boyunca Komikebir'de kalabilmiş olsaydım diyorum şimdi de, köyümü çok seviyorum... Ancak haftada bir veya iki haftada bir de Maraş'a giderdik... Kocam köyünü çok severdi, hayatını kaybetmesi bu yüzden oldu... Köyünden ayrılmak istemezdi, köyünü o kadar çok severdi ki... Hayatına maloldu bu sevgi...

SORU: Kıbrıslıtürkler'e Andreas Pavlos Loizu'dan bahsettiğim zaman bana hep "Komikebir'in zengin adamı" derler.
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet, Komikebir'in en zengin adamıydı, büyük olasılıkla tüm Karpaz'ın da en zengin adamıydı...

SORU: Ne iş yapardı?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Çok büyük arazileri, tarlaları, toprakları vardı. Arpa-buğday ekerdi, sebze ekerdi, portokal bahçeleri vardı, zeytinleri, harnıpları vardı... Yalnızca zeytinleri toplamak tam üç ayımızı alırdı, ancak üç ayda toplayabilirdik zeytinleri... Eylül'de başlardık toplamaya ve Noel'e kadar zeytin toplama işimiz devam ederdi... Harnıpları toplamak en az birkaç ayımızı alırdı. Çok fazla iş vardı... Mevsimlik işçilerimiz vardı, normalde yanımızda en az 40-60 kişi çalışırdı, bunlar ağırlıkla Kıbrıslıtürk işçiler olurdu, ancak da yetiştirirdik tüm bu ürünleri toplamaya bu işçilerin yardımıyla. Kritya'dan (Kilitkaya), Livadya'dan (Sazlıköy), Ayistat'tan (Zeybekköy), Vogolida'dan (Bafra), Ovgoroz'dan (Ergazi) Kıbrıslıtürk işçiler gelirdi tarlalarımızda, bahçelerimizde çalışmaya... Ve tabii Komikebirli Kıbrıslıtürk işçiler de vardı yanımızda çalışan.

SORU: Komikebir karma bir köydü... Komikebirli Kıbrıslıtürkler'le ilgili neler hatırlıyorsunuz?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evde yanımızda sürekli çalışan bir Kıbrıslıtürk kız vardı, temizlik yapar, yemek pişirir, bana yardım ederdi. Mulla'nın kızıydı bu... Babası eşimin tarlalarında çalışırdı, adı Mulla'ydı. Kızı da evimizde çalışırdı. Evde mevsimlik çalışan üç kız bulunurdu, bana yardım etmek için gelirlerdi. Ama Mulla'nın kızı sürekli çalışırdı evimizde...

SORU: Hayvancılıkla da uğraşır mıydı eşiniz?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Hayır, yalnızca rençberlikle uğraşırdı, çiftçilikle uğraşırdı... Tek bir domuzumuz vardı, evdeki artıkları yerdi bu domuzcuk!
Kıbrıslıtürkler'den Hamide'yi hatırlıyorum, Mulla'nın üç kızı vardı, onları hatırlıyorum... İsimlerini unuttum, bu kadar yıl geçti...

SORU: 1955'ler, 1963'ler köyünüzü etkiledi miydi?
SOFULLA LOİZU: 1955 EOKA döneminde, bazı Kıbrıslırumlar, Komikebir'de Kıbrıslıtürkler'le karışık yaşardı. Karışıktı yani köy... Ancak bazı Kıbrıslıtürkler, bazı Kıbrıslırumlar'ın evlerini yakmıştı, onları oradan kaçırmak içindi bu herhalde. Böylece Kıbrıslırumlar, kuzeye doğru çekilmişlerdi, Kıbrıslırumlar'ın daha yoğun biçimde yaşadığı yerlere. Hatırladığım kadarıyla çok büyük olaylar olmamıştı köyümüzde Kıbrıslıtürkler'le Kıbrıslırumlar arasında.

SORU: 1963'te Komikebirli üç Kıbrıslıtürk "kayıp" olmuştu. Onları hatırlıyor musunuz acaba?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Sanırım yalnızca Halilo'yu hatırlıyorum, otobüsü vardı, diğer ikisini hatırlamıyorum... Lefkoşa'ya giderken "kayıp" edilmişlerdi...

SORU: Lefkonuk'ta (Geçitkale) tutuklanmışlardı ve iddiaya göre bir ay süreyle polis karakolunda tutulmuşlar, sonra öldürülmüşler...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Halilo'nun eşi, evimize gelirdi, Nazif'ti adı, harnıp zamanı, zeytin zamanı gelir bana yardım ederdi. Barikatlar açıldıktan sonra buluştuk onunla... Kuzeye gittiğimizde gördüydük Nazif'i ve onu evinde ziyaret etmeye söz verdik çünkü şikayet ettiydi, niye evine gitmedik diye... Nazif'le çok iyiydi ilişkilerimiz... Dağlara gittiydik ve tesadüfen gördük Nazif'i, görünce birbirimize sarıldık, kucaklaştık. "Neden bana da gelmezsiniz yahu?" demişti Nazif Hanım bana... Bir gün onu ziyaret edeceğiz... 1974'e kadar, hatta 1974'te ilk işgalde dahi köyde herhangi bir gerginlik yoktu...

SORU: 15 Temmuz darbesinde köyde ne olmuştu?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Hiçbirşey olmamıştı... 1974'ten önce bir cinayet işlenmişti, bir Kıbrıslırum öldürülmüştü bazı Kıbrıslıtürkler tarafından köyde. Ama tarihini tam hatırlamıyorum. Komikebirli üç Kıbrıslıtürk'ün "kayıp" olmasından önce miydi bu, yoksa sonra mıydı? Onu da tam hatırlayamıyorum. Bu siyasi bir cinayet miydi yoksa adi bir cinayet miydi? Ondan da emin değilim.

SORU: Yani darbede bir şey olmadı...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Kimsenin kılına dokanılmadıydı. İşgalden sonra gene bir şey olmamıştı. Onları korumuştuk... Korumaya çalışmıştık... Bizler yani mesela eşim, köydeki Kıbrıslıtürkler'e dokanılmamasını sağlamıştı, onlara dokanılmasına izin vermemişti.

SORU: Yani köyün içinden mi geliyordu bu tehlike yoksa başka köylerden birileri gelip Komikebirli Kıbrıslıtürkler'e bir şey yapmak mı istediydiler?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Köyde fanatik insan yoktu – başka köylerden de birilerinin geldiğini sanmıyorum. Hatırladığım kadarıyla yalnızca Kritya'da (Kilitkaya) ve Ovgoroz'da (Ergazi) ordu, Kıbrıslıtürk erkekleri bir yere toplamıştı, sonra da onları serbest bırakmışlardı sanırım...

SORU: Bazı Kıbrıslırumlar'ın bu yörede bazı tecavüzlere giriştiğini de duyduk...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Bilemiyorum, bunu ilk kez sizden duyuyorum. Ancak bildiğimiz kadarıyla Komikebir'de hiçbirşey olmadı. Birinci işgalle ikinci işgal arasında da köyde hiçbirşey olmadı...

SORU: İkinci harekat 14 Ağustos 1974'te meydana geldi. O tarihten sonra köyde neler olduydu?
SOFULLA LOİZU: İnsanlar Türk askerlerinin Mağusa bölgesine doğru ilerlediğini duymuştu. Karpaz'ın kapanacağı duyulmuştu, bu yüzden pek çok insan Karpaz'dan ayrılıp gitmişti. Fakat biz köyde kalmıştık. Oğlularımızın dördü de askerdeydi ancak eşim benimle köyde kalmıştı. "Oğlularımın dördü da askerde, şimdi ben kaçıp da kendi hayatımı mı kurtaracağım?" demişti eşim...



SORU: Evlatlarınız nerelerde askerlik yapıyordu o günlerde?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Luiz ve ikiz kardeşi Kostas, Boğaz'daki donanma üssündeydi, Nikos komando birliğindeydi, Vasilya yöresindeydi, Pavlos da Galatya'dan sonraki bir köydeydi, Tavru (Pamuklu) olabilir bu, emin değilim.

SORU: Eşinizi nasıl almışlardı köyden?
SOFULLA LOİZU: 15 Ağustos 1974'te evimize ateş açmışlardı...

SORU: Kim ateş açmıştı?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Kıbrıslıtürkler'di ateş açan, Türk askerleri değil...

SORU: Komikebirli miydi bu Kıbrıslıtürkler? Onları tanıyor muydunuz?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Bunlar evimizde çalışmaya gelen bazı genç Kıbrıslıtürkler'di. Tarlalarımızda çalışmaya giden Kıbrıslıtürkler'di... Komikebirli miydiler yoksa Livadyalı (Sazlıköy) veya Ayistatlı (Zeybekköy) mıydılar bilemiyorum çünkü tarlalarımıza tüm bu köylerden çalışmaya giderdi Kıbrıslıtürkler. Bu Kıbrıslıtürk gençler evimize ateş açarken, eşim Andreas onlara bağırmış ve "Ateş etmekten vazgeçin! Aşağıya iniyorum" demişti. Andreas aşağıya inip kapıyı açmıştı onlara. Evin içine pek çok kişi bir anda doluşmuş ve her yeri karıştırmaya başlamışlardı. Eşime garajdaki Volkswagen arabasını çıkarmasını söylemişlerdi. Bu Volkswagen'in plakası EH84 idi. Bej renkli bir Volkswagen arabaydı bu. Eşim Andreas ona bir şişe su ve ilaçlarını uzatmam için ses atmıştı. Ben ona bir şişe su ve ilaçlarını uzattığımda da, bana oğlularımın arabada bulunan sürüş ehliyetlerini uzatmıştı. Arabada müzik kasetleri vardı, bunları da vermişti bana Andreas. Bu, onu son görüşüm oldu. Onu bir daha görmedim...

SORU: Eşinizi nereye götürüyordu bu Kıbrıslıtürkler?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Nereye götüreceklerini söylememişlerdi... Ertesi günü ben "Gayis" dediğimiz Komikebir'in Kıbrıslıtürk muhtarını aramıştım, Londra'dan gelmiş olan birisi vardı, bu da eşimin arkadaşıydı, onu da çağırmıştım evimize. "Gayis" dediğimiz Kıbrıslıtürk muhtar evimize gelmişti, beni ve kaynanamı evine götürüp koruma altına almak istediğini söylemişti. Ben de ona "Hayır, teşekkür ederim" demiştim.

SORU: Eşinizi nereye götürdüklerini söylemiş miydi size muhtar?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Kıbrıslıtürk muhtar bana, "Kocan şimdi Galatya'dadır. Hasanaki'nin gözetimi altındadır" demişti. Hasanaki, Komikebirli bir polisti ama Galatya'da polislik ediyordu. 1963'ten sonra Galatya'da görev yapmakta olan Komikebirli bir polisti Hasanaki.
Pazartesi günü Güllis – ki bu da askeri bir yetkiliydi – bize kahvehaneye gitmemizi söylemişti. Kadınlarla erkekleri ayırmışlardı, aynı kahvehanede.
Kahvehaneye gittiğim zaman siyahlar giyiyordum çünkü annem henüz birkaç ay önce ölmüş olduğu için yastaydım, yas rengi olan siyah giysiler giyiyordum.
Kahvehaneye girerken bir Kıbrıslıtürk askeri yetkili beni süzmeye başlamıştı. Havaya ateş etmeye başlamış ve karısı ve çocuklarının "kayıp olduğunu" bağırarak söylemeye başlamıştı. Sonra da isimlerimizi ve yaşlarımızı sormuştu, bunları yazıyordu. Ben ona 47 yaşında olduğumu söyleyince, Rumca olarak bana "25'inde gösterin..." demişti. Bunun üzerine bu askeri yetkiliye "Benim 24 yaşında oğlum vardır" demiştim.
Bizim Volkswagen arabamızı artık bir Kıbrıslıtürk sürüyordu, arabaya el koymuşlardı. Kahvehaneden aldıkları bazı küçük kızları bu arabaya doldurmuşlardı. Mesela H.'yı da almışlardı, annesi saçını başını yoluyordu, güya kızları "gezmeye" götüreceklermiş... Bize de okula gitmemizi söylemişlerdi. Okul, büyük kilisenin tam karşısındaydı.
Sabah saat 08.00'de okula gidiyorduk – 20 gün kadar okulda kalmıştık...

SORU: Kaç tane kız çocuğu almıştı bu Kıbrıslıtürkler?
SOFULLA LOİZU: İki arabaya sığdırabilecekleri sayıda kızı almışlardı.
Bize de sokakları süpürmemiz emredilmişti. Köyün başlangıcından taa Türk mahallesine kadar olan bölgedeki sokakları süpürttürüyorlardı bize.
Sokakları süpürürken, eşimin arkadaşı olan bir Kıbrıslıtürk'e rastlamıştım. Karısı dışarı çıkıp bize su vermeye çalışmıştı, bu o Londra'dan gelen Kıbrıslıtürk'tü, onu da çağırmıştım muhtarla ama gelmemişti. Şimdi beni görünce "Evine gelemedim" demişti. Adam kendi canından korktuğu için gelememişti bize.
Evimize ateş edilmiş olduğu için ortalık dağılmıştı, bana daha önce eve yardıma gelen kızlar, evi temizlemem için benimle gelmişti eve. Ertesi günü gene geldiler ve evi karıştırmaya başladılar. Oğlularım Nikos ve Pavlos'un odasına girdiler, askerlik fotoğrafları vardı oğlularımın, bunları aldılar. Luiz ile Kostaki'nin odasında yedek üniformalarını buldular ve bunları da aldılar.
Altınlarım vardı, bu mücevherlerimi almak istediler ancak bir Kıbrıslıtürk öğretmen vardı orada, daha önce bu öğretmen bizden ikinci el bir araba satın almıştı. Bu öğretmen diğer askerlere bağırarak mücevherleri bırakmalarını emretmişti.
Bir başka odaya gittiklerinde, eşimin ava gittiğinde kullandığı fişenkliği bulmuşlar ve onu da almışlardı. İki üç tane fişenklik vardı, onları da almışlardı.
Okulda sorumlu yetkili olan adam bana öteki odaya geçmemi söyledi. Yalnız olarak odaya girmemi emretti ve giydiğim siyah giysileri çıkarmamı, kırmızı giysiler giymemi emrettiler. Ertesi günü yeşil renkli bir giysiyle gitmiştim okula. Ama ondan sonraki gün gene siyah giysilerimi giymiştim. Bunu yaptığım için bu yetkili silahını bana dayayıp beni öldüreceğini söylemişti. Bizim köylü değildi bu askeri yetkili, silahını bana doğrultup da beni öldüreceğini söyleyince ben düşüp bayılmıştım. Kaynanam bağırmaya başlamıştı, "Biz de siyah giyiyoruz... Niye karşı çıkıyorsun?" demişti bu adama, "Kadının birkaç ay önce annesi öldü, yastadır, tabii ki siyah giyiniyor..." demişti.
Bu adam benden evimizin anahtarlarını da istemişti, gelip bizde kalacağını söylüyordu.

SORU: Belli ki size göz koymuştu... Kimdi bu adam?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Galatyalı'ydı, öğretmendi bu adam... Kızları yeniden arabamıza doldurup Eftagomi'ye (Yedikonuk) götürmüşlerdi. Galatya'nın Paşası bu olayları duyunca, bu öğretmene silah çekmiş ve kızları derhal evlerine götürmesini emretmişti.

SORU: Sanırım bu tecavüz olayları nedeniyle o bölgeden Paşa'nın emriyle alınmıştı bu adam...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Öğleden sonra bu adam okula gelmişti, çok mutlu görünüyordu, "Karım ve çocuklarım bulundu" demişti. Sonra da "Bundan sonra artık evlerinizde kalabilirsiniz" demişti bize. "Bana herhangi bir sorunuz var mıdır?" diye sormuştu bize. Ben de ona "Gidip oğlularımı aramak için izin istiyorum" demiştim. "Tamam Sofiya Hanım" demişti...
O gece saat 11.00'de dört arabayla evimizin avlusuna gelmişlerdi... Evde yalnızca ben vardım, kaynanam vardı ve iki yaşlı insan vardı... Kaynanam "Dışarıdadırlar ve kapıyı açmanı isterler" demişti bana. Ben de üst kattaki pencereyi açtım, dört aracın orada durduğunu gördüm.
"Ne istiyorsunuz?" dedim...
"Aşağı gel Sofia Hanım" dedi bana. Küçük bir lamba elimde, yanımda üç yaşlı insanla birlikte aşağıya indim.
"Nedir istediğiniz?" dedim bu adamlara.
"Gidip oğlularını aramak istediğini söyledin ya" demişti bana.
"Evet, gidip oğlularımı aramak isterim" demiştim.
"Eğer bir yere gidecek olursan seni öldürürüz" demişti bana.
"Öldüreceksen öldür" dedim ona.
"O zaman kocan karısız kalacak" dedi bana.
"Bir şey değil" dedim ona. Aynı adamdı bunları söyleyen, size sözünü ettiğim Galatyalı öğretmen adam.
"Tamam Sofia Hanım" dedi bana, "eğer yollar açılırsa gidip oğlularını aramana izin vereceğiz" demişti.

SORU: Sizi terörize etmeye çalışıyorlardı...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet... Bir başka defasında Galatya'nın Paşası da evimize gelerek "yoklama" yapmıştı. Pek çok şey kaybolmuştu evden. Ancak size sözünü ettiğim bu öğretmen çok şey yaptı bize...

SORU: Kocanızın akibetini soruşturuyordunuz herhalde...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet. Eşimin akibetini araştırırken, yine Komikebirli (Büyükkonuk) arkadaşımız Panayotu da gelmişti, onun da eşi ve oğlu Komikebir'den alınıp Galatya'ya götürülmüştü. Panayotu'yla birlikte Hasanaki'yi bulmaya gittik. Hasanaki, Galatya'da polislik ediyordu. "Bay Hasanaki" dedim, "kocam nerededir? Radyodan duyduk ki serbest bırakıldılar..."
O zaman Hasanaki bize, "Gidip Kemalis'e sormanız lazımdır bunu" demişti.
"Kemalis da kimdir?" demiştim ona.
Panayotu'yla birlikte Komikebir'deki polis karakoluna gittik, burada bazı insanlar vardı, bir tanesi çok uzun boyluydu, çok iyi giyinmişti ve tam bir centilmen gibiydi. Bize gülümsedi ve "Beni hatırlamıyor musun? Andreas'ın yani kocanın arkadaşıyım ben" dedi.
"Kocam nerededir?" diye sordum bu adama. "Herkes serbest bırakıldı, Andreas nerededir?" dedim ona.
"Bayan Sofulla, bir gün gelip konuşacağım sizinle. Kocanız geri gelecektir" dedi. Bu Kemalis idi. Kemal Tünay... Polisti Kemalis, hangi köyden olduğunu bilmiyorum, sanırım Lefkonuklu'ydu. Komikebirli Lefteris'in de arkadaşıydı. 1974'ten çok önce arkadaştılar. Lefteris üç sene önce öldü...

SORU: Komikebirli tüm Kıbrıslırum erkekleri, Galatya'ya götürmüşlerdi...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet... Tüm erkekler Galatya'ya götürülmüştü. 15 Ağustos'ta tüm erkekleri toplayıp götürmüşlerdi. Eşim arabasıyla alınıp götürülmüştü ama. Volkswagen arabasıyla. 8-10 gün kadar sonra birisi kahvehaneye gelmişti ve bize "Kaygılanma, kocan Galatya'dadır" demişti. O zaman "Kocama giysi götürür müsün?" demiştim. "Tamam, git bir pantolon, bir iç çamaşırı, bir gömlek getir da götüreyim" demişti.
Serbest bırakılan bir başka Kıbrıslırum'dan öğrendiğime göre, kocam gerçekten de bu giysileri almıştı. Ve kirli giysileri de Salahi diye bir arkadaşı vardı, onunla bize göndermişti.
Kocam bana mesaj göndererek sigara istemişti, ayrıca bir de hırka istemişti. Ben de bir hırka göndermiştim ve sigara göndermiştim eşime. Ancak bunları alıp almadığını öğrenemedim hiçbir zaman.
Ben hastalanmıştım, kanamam vardı... Bizi tarlalara götürüp pamuk toplatmak istiyorlardı. Yanımızda sürekli olarak çalışan Kiriakos, bizi götürmek isteyen Kıbrıslıtürkler'e "Sofulla Hanım hastadır, gelemez" demişti. Gelip kontrol etmişlerdi bakalım gerçekten hasta mıyım diye. Ertesi günü kanamam artmıştı, böylece beni Galatya'ya götürmüşlerdi, Kiriakos'un annesi de vardı yanımda. Galatya'da bir kadın doktor muayene etmişti beni. Bana iğne yapmıştı ve kanamam geçmişti.

SORU: Galatya'da kocanızı görmeye çalışmış mıydınız?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Galatya'dayken, "Kocam nerededir?" dediğimde bana "Lefkoşa'daki Pavlides Garajı'ndadır" dediydiler.

SORU: Kocanızın alınmasından ne kadar süre sonraydı bu?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Bir aydan fazla zaman geçmişti... Hasanaki tüm bu öyküyü biliyor... Kocamın ne zaman alındığını, Pavlidis Garajı'na ne zaman götürüldüğünü biliyor çünkü Galatya'da görevliydi kendisi. Şu anda Leonarisso'da (Ziyamet) yaşıyor ama konuşmuyor. Belki korkuyor...

SORU: Bir Kıbrıslıtürk şahit bize Galatya'daki son esirin, eşiniz olduğunu anlattı. Kocanızı tanıyormuş ve en son kocanız kalmış Galatya'da tutuklu olarak...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Pek çok şahidin ifadesi vardır, Galatya'da kocamla birlikte olan şahitler, Pavlidis Garajı'nda onunla birlikte olanlar, sonra Boğaz'daki plajda kabinleri kiralayan Yorgos Savvidis'in ifadesi var... Hangi tarihe kadar hayatta olduğuna ilişkin bir tahmin yürütebiliyoruz bu ifadelere bakınca. En azından Eylül sonuna, Ekim başına kadar eşim hayattaydı. Bir Kıbrıslıtürk şahidin ifadesine göre, eşim Nisan veya Mayıs 1975'te öldürülmüş...

SORU: Yani Nisan-Mayıs 1975 tarihine kadar Galatya'da mı tutulmuş?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet, Galatya'da tutulmuş. Bir Kıbrıslıtürk şahide göre, eşimi öldüren kişiler Livadya'dan (Sazlıköy) M., M. A. ve Komikebir'den (Büyükkonuk) S. imiş. Kocamı öldürenler arasında bulunan A., kocamın arabasını da kullanmaktaymış. Şu anda Y.'da yaşıyormuş bu adam...

SORU: Pavlidis Garajı'nda neler olmuştu?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Yorgos Savvidis'in ifadesine göre, eşimle birlikte Pavlidis Garajı'ndaydılar... 31 Ağustos 1974'te Yorgos Savvidis, kayıkla Boğaz'dan ayrılmış ancak ertesi günü Türkler onu yakalamış. 2 Eylül 1974'te Yorgos Savvidis Galatya'ya götürülmüş, Galatya'da 30 gün kalmış, Galatya'da bazı Kıbrıslırumlar da varmış ve aralarında eşim Andreas Pavlos Loizu da varmış. Yani Eylül sonu, yani 30 Eylül'de veya 1 Ekim'de Pavlidis Garajı'na götürülmüşler. Burada bir süre kalmışlar, sonra eşim "Ben değiş-tokuşa katılmayacağım, köyüme dönmek istiyorum" demiş, Yorgos Savvidis'le birlikte Pavlidis Garajı'ndan alınarak Karpaz'a geri götürülmüş. Bazıları eşimin Livadya'da (Sazlıköy) bırakıldığını anlatır ama bu doğru değil, Galatya'ya geri götürülmüş, Yorgos Savvidis ise önce Galatya'ya götürülmüş, sonra Boğaz'a bırakılmış. Yorgos Savvidis, 23 gün daha Boğaz'da kalmış. Tüm bunlardan anladığımız, eşim Eylül sonu, Ekim başına kadar hayatta idi. Her halukarda Yorgos Savvidis ile eşim, Pavlidis Garajı'ndan sonra Galatya'ya götürülmüş. Her ne olmuşsa, Galatya'da olmuş yani...
Ben 13 Ağustos 1976'ya kadar Komikebir'de kaldım...

SORU: Bu iki yıl boyunca size yönelik tacizler devam etmiş miydi?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Gece evimiz taşlanıyordu, pencerelere taş atıyorlardı mesela... Birleşmiş Milletler'e anlatmıştım bu tacizleri, Birleşmiş Milletler köyden ayrıldıktan sonra birisi bizi ziyarete gelerek "Bir kere daha Birleşmiş Milletler'e konuşursan, sonu çok kötü olacak" demişti. "En iyisi senin bu köyden ayrılıp oğlularının yanına, güneye gitmendir. Oğluların sana mektup yazıyor, bu mektupları biz okuyoruz... Git, evini, malını unut ve güneye git" demişti bana. "Ekim sonuna kadar zaten Komikebir'de hiç Kıbrıslırum kalmayacak, herkes köyden ayrılacak" demişti.
Ben Birleşmiş Milletler aracılığıyla köyden ayrıldım, böylece yanıma bir kısım eşyamı da alabilmiştim.
Ben ayrıldıktan bir ay kadar sonra da köydeki tüm Kıbrıslırumlar köyden atılmıştı.

SORU: Tüm bu süre boyunca, köydeki Kıbrıslıtürkler herhangi bir biçimde yardım etmiş miydi size?
SOFULLA LOİZU: Köyümüzde kalmaya gelen bir kadın vardı, eşimle aynı okulda okumuşlardı. Larnaka'da Amerikan Akademisi'nde öğrenciyken eşimle aynı sınıftaydı. Bir Kıbrıslırum kızdı bu ancak bir Kıbrıslıtürk'le evlenmişti. Trikomo'da (Yeni İskele) kalıyordu, sonra bizim köye yerleşmişti. Gelip beni bulmuş ve "Ben eşinle Amerikan Akademisi'nde aynı sınıftaydık..." demişti.
"Üzülme" demişti bana... Bir Kıbrıslıtürk kadınla birlikte gelmişlerdi ziyaretime.
Kamillos'un evinde otururdu bu kadın, sonra bizim köye taşınmıştı. Kocamın yaşlarında bir kadındı bu...

SORU: Ben köylüleriniz Kıbrıslıtürkler'den herhangi bir yardımda bulunan oldu mu diye sormuştum...
SOFULLA LOİZU: Hayır, olmadı. Bir tek Mullas diye birisi vardı, Ayistatlı (Zeybekköy) idi bu adam, bizim için çalışırdı geçmişte. O gelip "Köyden, evinden, yerinden ayrılma" derdi bana...

SORU: Bir Kıbrıslıtürk bana, eşinizin, yanında çalışmış Kıbrıslıtürkler 20 Temmuz'dan sonra köylerinden ayrılıp da göçmen olunca, onlara para gönderdiğini anlattı.
SOFULLA LOİZU: Evet... Eşim Kritya'ya (Kilitkaya) giderek orada birilerini bulmuş ve daha önce yanında çalışan bazı Kıbrıslıtürkler'e göçmen oldukları için zor durumda kalmasınlar diye para göndermiş... Bazı Kıbrıslıtürkler bize de anlattı bunu...

(YENİDÜZEN – Kıbrıs: Anlatılmamış Öyküler… Sevgül Uludağ - Temmuz 2010)


Fotoğraflar: Sofulla Loizu (renkli fotoğraf) ve Sofulla Loizu, "kayıp" edilen eşi Andreas Pavlos Loizu ile…