Saying goodbye to Michalakis Solomontos from Dali…

Saying goodbye to Michalakis Solomontos from Dali…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

It's always a bit tricky to cross the checkpoints with your car since you never know what sort of queues you would encounter so we start early to go to Dali with my husband in order not to miss the funeral of `missing` Michalakis Solomontos, `missing` since 1964 whose remains were found in Hamit Mandrez…
He had been only 33 years old when he went `missing`, married with three children and his wife Egli was pregnant to the fourth child. Mihalakis Solomontos was an innocent person, an ordinary hard worker in a factory making sausages in Athienou – he was from Dali, the legendary village of friendship amongst Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots, he had been married with Egli from Ayia Varvara village from nearby… The eldest son was Christakis, six years old, his daughter Stavroulla 5 years old, his youngest son Andros only 3 years old… His wife would give birth to Giorgos five months after he had gone `missing`.
He had gone to Nicosia on the 25th of June 1964 with his new car, a white Morris with number plates CC694. He had passed from his wife's village Agia Varvara in order to take little Christakis with him to Nicosia but the grandfather had said, `Leave him with us and you can pick him up on your way back` so little Christakis had remained with the grandparents… He didn't know that this had been the last time he would see his father alive… Only after 50 years, almost on the day he disappeared, he would come back to Dali, in a small coffin to be buried where he had been born…
He had lost his way taking a wrong turn and had got captured by some Turkish Cypriots… He would be tortured and killed and buried in an isolated area in Hamit Mandrez, a small village on the outskirts of Nicosia… In this area, during the exhumations of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee the remains of 16 `missing persons` would be discovered all buried separately, at different times: Five of them had been `missing` from 1963-64, one of them Michalakis Solomontos…
This area was used for many years for shooting practice of the army for the reservists and for the regulars, it was such an isolated place that even today no one would hear or know if you would disappear here… I had heard from my readers that this had been the area in the late 50s and during 60s used by paramilitary Turkish Cypriot groups for `punishing` those Turkish Cypriots who opposed them, taking them around here and beating them up and there had been some killings in this area according to the information my readers had shared. A Turkish Cypriot, Alpay, who had been in these paramilitary groups when had conflicts with them had been killed in his cell in the police and then buried here but when his friends protested was taken out and buried in the Nicosia cemetery…
So this was the area where the remains of 16 `missing` persons had been uncovered and now started being returned to their relatives for burial ceremonies… We are early for the funeral and there is not a soul in the church so I call Christakis to tell him we arrived… He sends a friend of his to take us to his house… In the house, there is the small coffin of Michalakis Solomontos – I go in with my husband to meet his wife Egli, now bedridden, not able to move from where she is… I hold her hand but there is no need speak to her because there are no words to describe what is happening today… I feel sad just looking at her, not even being able to imagine what sort of horror she must have gone through all these years…
Michalakis Solomontos has gone out of the house exactly 50 years ago and for 50 years this woman has waited and waited for any news from her husband… Only now he comes back to his village, half a century later, in a small wooden coffin to be buried in the soil where he had been born… He never had a chance to see his sons and his daughter grow up, he never had a chance to see and hold his baby boy, born after five months from the date he disappeared, he never had a chance to grow old… This kind hearted man who had saved some Turkish Cypriots from certain death from some gangs coming to Dali from Lympia, this innocent man who had nothing to do with the conflict and whom everyone loved has died under torture – they did not even `waste` bullets and killed them and then buried them in Hamit Mandrez…
When I start thinking back about those years, I have a gallery of photos of those who might have been involved in those tortures and killings: All of them had strange deaths or their wives suffering from strange illnesses, the son of one of them in fact died under torture many years later because he had had a rift with some shady groups, all of them, all of them punished in one way or another by the earth… Although this is in no way any `consolation`, it's just `facts` that I know of…
In the church in Dali, fully packed, some other Turkish Cypriots have also come to put flowers on the small coffin… I too have brought flowers to lay at the basis of his coffin and say goodbye to him… We hear a very emotional speech from Christos Stylianides, MEP who had been a school mate of Christakis, sharing his tears with us and all the hurt… He shares his memories and says `Nationalism and hatred is no way out…` We hear from Leontios Kallenos, the Mayor of Dali… But the most meaningful speech comes from Christakis, saying his last goodbyes to his father…He says:

"Father…

I don't remember, my brothers/sister and I, when we last uttered this word…
Yet these days we address you all the time… father…
because not only do we feel you,
but you are also with us.

The years of trying to find you…, finally came to fruition.
Even in this way… of discovering your torturous… unjust death.
Finding you is the Truth, Peace and Relief for us… It is a life mission.

Today is a day of vindication for you father… A day which came 50 years late…
We have mixed and alternating feelings of sadness and joy.
Joy that you are with us father…

Sadness because our heroine mother, who brought us up and stood beside us as a mother and father…,
for health reasons, she is unable to also be physically present today with us.
Spiritually and mentally she is with us… because I saw the tears in her eyes when I told her:
"Mum dad was found"

Our father Michalis Solomontos at the age of 33 years became another victim of division, of rivalry and the cultivation of hatred in those times… The victim of blind revenge and retaliation…

But at the same time father you are also a hero of reconciliation and love… Your sacrifice did not go wasted…
Proof is the presence here together of Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriot friends, to pay their common respect but also mutual apology for the mistakes and the passions of that generation…

Farewell our dear father… we found you and we lose you again… but from today you are closer to us…
May your memory live for ever…

We thank all those that helped us in the efforts to find our father…, Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots.
Special thanks to our friend journalist Sevgul, who is with us today, for her truly invaluable help.

Finally I thank all of you for your presence here… I would be very happy to welcome you all at my house after the cemetery."

22.6.2014

Photo: Missing Michalakis Solomontos returning to his village in a small coffin after half a century...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 29th of June 2014, Sunday.

From Mia Milia to Neachorio Kythrea and Kythrea…

From Mia Milia to Neachorio Kythrea and Kythrea…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

We continue to follow the story of the `missing` Greek Cypriot with the goatee beard and glasses that I have been writing about and we meet at the junction of Mia Milia – my reader is waiting for us in his car and we follow him… I am together with the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee, Xenophon Kallis and Murat Soysal. One of the Turkish Cypriot investigators is accompanying us… With the help of my reader Dr. Dervis Ozer, I have found another reader who had actually taken the `missing` Greek Cypriot from Epicho to Mia Milia. Now he will show us the possible burial site.
We follow my reader's car and at some point he stops and gets out…
This is Mia Milia… We are at a bridge where he says, some Turkish soldiers were stationed for a day or two…
This was the point where he and his friend had taken some Turkish soldiers they had found on their way to Chatoz from Epicho (Abohor) – the Turkish soldiers begged them to take them to their unit – otherwise if they would be late, they would be punished… So they had taken 5-6 soldiers in the white van where they had a Greek Cypriot prisoner of war with a goatee beard. They were taking him from Epicho to Chatoz – this Greek Cypriot who had sought refuge with the UN in Epicho was their prisoner of war. They had been afraid that the crowd would lynch him so had decided to take him to the military headquarters, to the commander in Chatoz. But they were diverted by this incident of some Turkish soldiers begging them and asking them to take them back to their unit.
In the car they had discovered that there was a Greek Cypriot prisoner with tied hands… They were curious about him…
As soon as they reached the spot where we are standing now, they had notified their commander that there was a Greek Cypriot prisoner and started telling stories about how their friends had been killed in the war… The Turkish Cypriots – my reader and the owner of the van – could not do anything. The Turkish soldiers would shoot and kill the Greek Cypriot with the goatee beard there and then, in front of their eyes…
`I think it was the next day when the Turkish soldiers moved away from here – they did not stay, they moved on… I passed from this spot a few days after and saw a freshly dug place, where they had shot the Greek Cypriot with the goatee beard… It was a heap of soil on an ochto (ditch) around here…`
He shows us the place…
It is an empty field, not far from the road… This road was the old road going from Mia Milia to Famagusta… There is the bridge and there is an eucalyptus tree next to the bridge…
Next to this field is the slaughterhouse for animals – this slaughterhouse was built after 1974…
I ask him whether he can show us the place where he had told me that one Greek Cypriot `missing person` had been buried in Neachorio Kythrea… He says, `Sure…` and we follow his car from Mia Milia to Neachorio Kythrea…
But before we leave Mia Milia I ask him to show me the furniture factory – one of my readers had rented the field close to the furniture factory and had planted wheat or barley there in 1975 and had found the body of a Greek Cypriot `missing` in this field. Next to this field was a battery factory – it was 100 meters to the east of the battery factory where there was a small stream… He had notified the military unit in the area but he doesn't know whether they removed that body he saw or not… I will take this other reader of mine one day to show me the exact location…
The car we are following stops and my reader shows me the furniture factory so I have an idea of the area and we move on to go to Neachorio Kythrea so that my reader can show us the possible burial site of a `missing` Greek Cypriot from Neachorio Kythrea.
This place is next to the mosque as he had told me…
His father had told my reader that in this place, a Greek Cypriot from the village had been buried, someone named A…. who had had a mandra around here…
This was the Turkish Cypriot mahalle until 1963 when they had to flee the village – over time houses were demolished and we can see the ruins now…
Someone had thought of rebuilding the family house here, he says, that's why he had his plot cleaned and straightened out after 1974 when the Turkish Cypriots originally from this village Neachorio Kythrea – Minarelikeuy – had returned.
`But then they decided not to build a house here since it's too close to a military area` he says…
`Where are they?`
`Just over there… And their plot was too close to the mosque – but they had it cleaned. When they were cleaning it, I was not in the village but my father was. Later on my father told me that they had found a leg bone while cleaning… It was my father who had told me that he had heard that they had buried A…. from this village here, just inside the walls of the mandra. Before, there used to be some walls here because we had our houses and we had our mandras… So within these 5-6 meters you can check whether you can find remains… I am not sure if they removed him or not but you can check…`
We take photos and coordinates and I ask him whether we can go to Kythrea as well…
`Sure` he says and once again we follow him to Kythrea…
According to his information, an old woman had been buried in a field but now a three storey building has been erected in this formerly empty field… It looks quite new… There is no garden around so perhaps the remains have been destroyed during the building of this apartment…
`I heard that an old woman living in the house across or the one behind had been buried here` he says…
`If we speak with Maria Georgiadou` I say to Kallis, `if I can bring her here or if I show her photos of these houses, she will definitely know whose houses these were and who are `missing` from these houses…`
Maria Georgiadou, my dear friend from Kythrea whose mother, father, brother and sister are `missing` since 1974 has been the greatest help in the search for the `missing`…
We thank my reader and we say goodbye to him…
`If I have been of any help, I am not sure` he says… `What have I done?`
`Of course you have been of help… You showed us three different possible burial sites… If everyone was like you, speaking up, we would be able to find so many more `missing`… I thank you so much…` I tell him.
He says goodbye and we leave Kythrea…
When in Nicosia I call my friend Maria Georgiadou and we agree to meet one day so that I can show her the photos – I have some names in mind and I suspect that the `missing` buried in the possible burial site that my reader showed us might be from that particular family and I tell Maria this name… We will check it and work on it together to find out who might have been in those houses across this possible burial site…
The situation of Kythrea is a tragedy – there are so many `missing` from Kythrea and yet it is so difficult to find the burial sites… We had only managed together with Maria to locate the burial site of two `missing` old men – Kaniklides and Pramadeftis… The new possible burial site that my reader has shown me is not far from their burial site, almost in the same neighbourhood… Once while installing a water tank for a school, accidentally they had found the remains of some other `missing persons` in Kythrea but I don't know whether they have been identified through DNA tests yet…
My reader who had shown us these places had said, `It is such misfortune that the bulldozer operators and the guy with the truck helping them, they all died years ago… Only they knew where they were burying the Greek Cypriots killed in the war…`
The misfortune of Kythrea is that there had been no Turkish Cypriots living in this village so there were no witnesses to see where the `missing` were buried. It was an empty village… Only after October 1974 and February 1975 Turkish Cypriot refugees were settled in this village that had been a pure Greek Cypriot village once.
With Maria, we have shown some other possible burial sites of some `missing persons` from Kythrea but these have not been excavated yet…
So we wait but while waiting, we continue to investigate…

12.6.2014

Photo: Possible burial site of a `missing` Greek Cypriot in Mia Milia...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 22nd of June, 2014 Sunday.

The story of the glasses unfolds…

The story of the glasses unfolds…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518

The story unfolds to reveal another part of the truth of what might have happened to the `missing` person with the goatee beard and the glasses… The glasses the story of which we had shared here, in these pages some months ago…
With the help of one of my readers, Dr. Dervish Ozer who had followed the story of the glasses of the `missing` Greek Cypriot, we find more information…
The Greek Cypriot young soldier who had a goatee beard and was wearing glasses had took refuge with the UN soldiers based in Ebicho (Abohor) village on the 14th of August 1974. Turkish Cypriots of Ebicho had left the village due to the war and when they returned and found out that there was a Greek Cypriot in the village who had taken refuge with the UN soldiers in the centre of the village, they had surrounded the building, demanding from the UN to give him to them… Finally they had got him from the UN and the young Greek Cypriot soldier's glasses had fallen on the floor during the scuffle. A Turkish Cypriot from Ebicho whose glasses were broken while escaping the village, had picked these glasses up and wore them for years… My reader, the short story writer Dr. Dervish Ozer had followed the story of the glasses, had found the glasses, had taken them back and after identifying who the person with the goatee and the glasses might be, some months
ago we had given back the glasses to the wife and brother of the `missing` person. The relatives of the `missing` Greek Cypriot would also make investigation about which UN contingent to whom the soldiers belonged in Ebicho and we had found out that they had been Finnish soldiers. They would write to the UN, to the Finnish Embassy in Cyprus and to the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee for further investigation about the fate of the `missing` person…
We knew he had been taken by some soldiers from the UN but what had happened after that?
Dr. Dervish Ozer would continue his investigations in the village and would call me couple of times to tell me what he had found out. Finally he has more concrete information about who had taken him and put him in a car to take him away… He gives me two names, one of whom I contact… He too is one of my readers and we sit down to talk about what had happened… He is not from Ebicho but from another village in Mesaoria. As he talks, the story starts unfolding:
`I had been the commander of a nearby village and when we saw what was happening in the village, we thought the villagers might lynch the Greek Cypriot with the goatee – so I told a friend with a white van, `Let's take him to Chatoz as a prisoner of war to the commander there to save him from being lynched…' So we took him and put him in the white van of my friend and started going towards Chatoz… As soon as we passed the village Petra tou Digheni five or six Turkish soldiers stopped us. `We lost contact with our unit` they said. `Please take us to Mia Milia quickly because if we don't show up at our unit in Mia Milia, we will be punished…` We told them we were going to Chatoz but they insisted so we took them in the van and turned around to go back to Mia Milia… When they saw the Greek Cypriot prisoner with tied hands in the van, they started asking who he was and we told them that we were going to take him to the central command in
Chatoz as a prisoner of war.
We reached Mia Milia and the Turkish soldiers got down and went to find their commander, informing him that there is a Greek Cypriot prisoner in the car. They said, `Bring him here so we can see…`
They started telling their commander that they had lost friends and cousins in the war and in front of our eyes, they shot him… It all happened in front of our eyes and we were helpless… We left Mia Milia with my friend to go back to the village Ebicho.
After 15 days or a month when I passed from the place he had been shot, I had seen a freshly dug place, a heap of soil… I thought, `Probably they buried him here…`
While we were in the van taking him to Chatoz the Greek Cypriot had told me that he had been an electrician, that he lived in Agios Dometios, that he had two kids, one boy and a girl…`
`The person we know who had taken refuge with the UN had no kids, he had been newly married` I tell my reader, the witness… `Perhaps he said this in order to have mercy… Would you show us this possible burial site?`
`Of course` he says… `If you want, we can go now and I can show you…`
`It is better if I arrange for the Turkish Cypriot and Greek Cypriot officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee to come with us to show them so we don't have to go twice` I say to him…
`Anything is fine with me…` he says…
He tells me of another possible burial site in another village close to Ebicho.
`My father, before he died told me that this Greek Cypriot from Neachorio Kythrea had been buried in a place that I know… It is across the mosque… My father had told me that his name was A….. – he had been a big guy, tall, he had a mandra of cows in the village…`
`You can show us this place as well` I say…
`They had straightened this place out but perhaps his remains are still there…`
`We can check… We were actually looking for someone buried across the mosque but could not find anything` I tell him…
And in Kythrea he knows of another possible burial site of an old woman… `But they had built houses there so I am not sure if the burial site has remained or whether it has been destroyed during the building of houses` he says…
I am grateful for the information this reader and witness has provided… I have already spoken to the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee and we will go so that our witness can show these possible burial sites…
I thank my reader Dr. Dervish Ozer too for his immeasurable help in finding out details and witnesses during our search for the `missing` persons… He helps to unfold stories that make up our history and he does this with only the agenda of a human heart: For healing wounds of all relatives of `missing` whether they are Greek Cypriot or Turkish Cypriot…

1.6.2014

Photo: The only thing left behind from the `missing` Greek Cypriot are his glasses that Dr. Dervis Ozer found and returned to his wife after 40 years... Now we are searching for his possible burial site...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 15th of June 2014, Sunday.

The human faces from Famagusta…

The human faces from Famagusta…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

It is incredible how `nationalism` makes people `deaf, dumb and blind` so to say, how they can only look through the `lens` with `ethnic` eyes only and how they might miss out the `humanity` while being fixated on `ethnicity`… Photographs taken from Famagusta gathering of Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots during the Agios Exorinos Good Friday ceremony showed me clearly how `nationalism` might make some people `perceive` same scenes but with different `focus`.
One of my Greek Cypriot friends attended the ceremony and all she could see from the Good Friday ceremony were the `salty tears` of the church, all she could see was buildings and not necessarily the people gathering in friendship and understanding there… Because `nationalism` leaves no other space except your `own` and you simply cannot create `space` within your identity for others to be let alone `visible` but to also `express` themselves… She could see the fanatic group trying to demonstrate against this gathering in Famagusta who were pacified but she could not see the meeting of old neighbours – Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots – old friends sharing their memories, the humanity that came out of this gathering… Her camera missed out anything to do with the gathering of humans and embracing each other, her camera could only see the priests and the `tears` of the church… She would later photograph streets, old buildings and some
historical sites but again she would miss out on the real people embracing each other… The only thing I felt when I looked at the photos she took was sadness, sadness because she was `missing out` the most important thing: Reunification is not the reunification of `land` only, reunification is the reunification of our communities, our people…
But there were `testimonies` made up of photographs of that meaningful day which reflected the humanity in the Famagustians that gathered there – both Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots… For me, the most meaningful photographs came from my cousin Ertan Ince, a Famagustian...
He published a photo of an old Greek Cypriot woman called Andriani and he wrote:
`Before the Greek Cypriots left Famagusta, my father Ahmet Ince had bought the house from the father of auntie Andriani within the walls where we stay… His name was Sotiri… Auntie Andriani was married to a Greek Cypriot teacher working at the Greek Cypriot school in Famagusta… My elder brothers Alper and Sarper grew up in the arms of Andriani and other Greek Cypriot neighbours… When I was born, Greek Cypriots had left Famagusta… 57 years later we met at the Agios Georgios Exorinos Church…`
The photograph shows Andriani, together with the elder brother of Ertan, Alper Ince…
Another photograph Ertan took and published on Facebook shows Mr. Michalakis… Ertan says:
`Mr. Michalakis who is standing on the left with glasses… He had been a neighbour from the same neighbourhood with us… They stayed in the same houses, played in the same streets, they ate the same meals together with my elder brother Alper Ince… Michalakis speaks perfect Turkish… We met in Famagusta at the Agios Georgios Exorinos Church after 57 years…`
And one other photograph he publishes is that of Mr. Costas Sofokleous… Ertan writes:
`Mr. Costas Sofokleous (the one on the far right). His nickname is `Kara Kosta` (`Black Costa`)… He was born in Famagusta in 1939 and grew up here… His house was next to the old market (bandabuliya)… He grew up playing marbles (pirilli) together with famous Famagustans like Ismet Kotak and Shemmedi… He knows the Famagusta of 40s and 50s very well… Now he stays in Limassol. But his spirit is living for 24 hours a day in Famagusta… Uncle Costa too, speaks very good Turkish…`
In fact Sevgi Yalman, one of our journalists working for YENIDUZEN newspaper for Famagusta area had an interview with Costas Sofokleous that was published on the 21st of April 2014 in YENIDUZEN.
Costas Sofokleous said, `My home is Famagusta, not 40 but even if 100 years pass, still my home is Famagusta… He had left Famagusta walled city when he was barely 16 years old in 1956… `Some people said let's leave and we left…` he says to Sevgi Yalman… When Sevgi asks his `Who said that?` he smiles and says `The British, the Americans!`
They had been living next to the old market (Bandabuliya) in a house his family rented for 10 shillings a month… They would leave the walled city but would get a house to live outside the walled city of Famagusta… He would get married there, have four kids and would live there until 1974…
`We left again on the 15th of August 1974… My daughter was only 10 months old… I left Famagusta with only slippers at my feet and shorts I was wearing and went to Limassol…`
According to Sevgi Yalman, there is no anger or bitterness at all in his voice… She says that Costas did not like Limassol at all where he has been living for the past 40 years…
`I worked at the port in Limassol. I made a lot of money but I don't want this… My home is Famagusta… Not only 40 but even if 100 years pass, still my home is Famagusta…`
Sevgi Yalman says that Costas came to the Good Friday ceremony but he is more interested in finding footprints from his past… He talks to Sevgi about the people he knew when he was a young boy, when he was newly married… He asks Turkish Cypriots about these friends…
`I know Ismet Kotak very well` he explains to Sevgi… `I think it was the street called Lala Mustafa and in that street we used to play marbles (pirilli) and we used to wrestle… I know Mehmet Shemmedi… I know Mustafa Matsouri and Ali and Fikret…`
When someone says that Ali is a football coach, he remembers that when Ali was playing at the Anorthosis football team he had broken his leg and everyone in Varosha went to visit him to wish him to get well soon…
`Matsouri was a policeman working on the train… There was Zeki whose father was an Arab… There was Murat Kaptan, Dedekko, Fikri, Hashim (Abatay)… I know them all… After the checkpoints opened I come here often, some of my friends died, I felt very sorry for this…`
In the end it is humanity that wins that day in Famagusta, not `nationalism`, even if some people in both communities fail to see that… It is the Famagusta Initiative who worked most for this day and let's hope more follows and these humanitarian encounters multiply to pave our peaceful way towards our common future on this island…

27.4.2014

Photo: Ertan Ince (far left) together with Costas Sophokliou (far right side of photo)...

(*) Article published in POLITIS newspaper on the 25th of May 2014, Sunday.

Orestis dreaming of a lighthouse…

Orestis dreaming of a lighthouse…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

He is very young, barely 19 and yet he has travelled far… Far in the sense of maturity concerning reconciliation… He shows us that age really does not matter, what matters is mentality and how you go about handling things… He is Orestis Agisilaou…
No, he does not sit at home over a computer or hang around a café all night long like his age group would… He goes out and meets people, starts a dialogue, makes friends, builds relationships… He is a role model for youngsters about how a culture of peace can be created on this land… He is a role model of self-confidence because if you are sure of yourself, you would not fear meeting `the other` - only if you are not confident or unsure you would feel frightened and go into your corner and hide…
He has built a very good relationship with Leyla Kiralp whose husband had been `missing` from Zygi since 1974, having been taken from his house by some leaders of EOKA-B and some policemen of the area and never returned. Leyla had just been married and she was devastated like so many other women when her husband went `missing`… But Leyla was a strong woman and she moved from her own pain to sharing this pain and also listening and hearing the pain of others in similar situations, be it Turkish Cypriot and Greek Cypriot… Only a handful of relatives of `missing persons` have managed to go beyond their own pain to connect with `the other` and to see that in fact it is our common pain, not Greek pain or Turkish pain, just simply human pain… Leyla would write a book called `The Wet White Handkerchief that We Shared`, telling the story of friendship with Maria from Famagusta who had become a refugee in Zygi and how they would cry together and share the
same handkerchief… Leyla would go around the island to talk about her life and her book and her struggle for peace… She too is a role model and Orestis, in her words, is like `a second son` to her… At the funeral of her `missing` husband Ahmet who was buried together with five other Turkish Cypriot `missing` from Zygi, Orestis, like her son Shevki was standing next to her… The group of six from Zygi had been on the first bus full of people from Zygi and Tochni – their remains had been found at Gerasa and this was the funeral of those found on the first bus – the ones who had gone `missing` from Zygi.
Orestis is very active – he crosses the partition line back and forth, going to sad events like this funeral or happy events to meet his friends. He has no `borders` in his mind or his heart – at a very young age, he proves to us that humanity can actually win on this island… He sends me an article he wrote that touches my heart… He writes:
`I was born in 1995. As the natural law determines, I was born without the chance to choose my birth place, my nationality, my religion, my parents and my family. I grew up and I am still growing up in the most beautiful country in the World, Cyprus. A country with history, culture, with beautiful places, great sandy beaches and green mountains.
But, this scenery, which looks ideal, gets poisoned. War, invasion, division of Cyprus into two parts, Greek Cypriot Refugees, Turkish Cypriot Refugees, Greek Cypriot `missing` people, Turkish Cypriot `missing` people, death, hate. For what reason all these happened? What was the fault of common people and they suffer? What? Why the next generations still suffer from the mistakes of the past? Why I need a passport to go to Famagusta or Kyrenia? Why my friend Leyla and my friend Ayse need passport to go to their villages? Why the friendship, the communication and the relationship between Greek and Turkish Cypriots are called "passport relationships''? I think that there is no person - with mind in his head- that likes the current situation. Although that the hate between the Cyprus people is planted, I have many and strong relationships with Turkish Cypriots. I hate the mentality that everybody puts on characterization same for everyone. For me, everyone
is unique. Especially when I am talking about my compatriots Turkish Cypriots. Through the communication with Turkish Cypriots, I have loved Cyprus more because I have realized that my country is much richer than I thought before. More, I have succeeded to make an objective opinion about Cyprus problem and to struggle for peace with all my strength.
My dream is to see Cyprus United, can I? Can I see Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots together again? Can I go to Famagusta without showing a passport? Can I wake up one day and the Greek Line to be in the past? Can I wake up one morning and see that there aren`t any more refugees and `missing` people? Can I? I have been taught that in life there isn't 'I can't', there is 'I don't want'.
In that case somebody else don`t want for me.
If Greek and Turkish Cypriots work hard together, we can achieve everything. We are able to make Cyprus a lighthouse for the world!!`
If we open our hearts and minds to the cry of Orestis, a young man of only 19, perhaps we can find some space to move towards the lighthouse he is pointing us at…
If we can listen and really feel his words and see how much pain he feels and how he hopes to see better days, perhaps we can find a way to open the way for youngsters like him to have a better future on this island than we have had…
He has no boundaries in his heart or in his mind: He shows us how we should move into the future, rather than getting stuck in the past…
I congratulate his mother and father – they can be proud of their son – the way they have raised him is exemplary and shows us all how the future generation can bring down taboos if we don't stand on their way like stumbling blocks…
Thank you Orestis for your words and for the way you live on this divided island, torn between hatred and suspicion and fear… You have overcome all those barriers to show us that a young boy of 19 can conceptualize a far better future, not just thinking of his own community but moving together as both communities, understanding each other and making peace with each other…
Because of Orestis, we can be hopeful since life shows us that another kind of life on this island is possible… If the 19 year old Orestis can do it, why shouldn't others be able to do it?
If Orestis can dream of Cyprus as a lighthouse for the world, why can't we? What stops us except our own selves?

10.5.2014

Photo: Orestis at the funeral of `missing` from Zyggi together with Leyla Kiralp and her son...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 8th of June, 2014 Sunday.

By the sea shores of Famagusta Boghazi…

By the sea shores of Famagusta Boghazi…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

Irrespective of the `agenda` of the island, we continue to move, to show, to investigate, to dig, to try to find out and make sense, to follow the smallest clues, to connect, to reconcile, to bring out the truth, to try to bring some closure to relatives of `missing`, to try to talk some sense to those who breed `fear` and `hatred`, to try to encourage friendship and good relations, to build peace with a human face and a human heart…
Irrespective of the `agenda` of the island, irrespective of the winds and the rains and the heat and the `political manoeuvres`, we continue to roam the island as always, we continue to look and search, to speak and try to understand, to try to make space for `others` to express their needs, concerns, fears and hopes… `Fear` expresses itself as `arrogance` so we need to go deep, deep under the roots to see how those `fears` had been created in the first place…
The `agenda` is like the wind, sweeping people this way or that… The `agenda` created every single day sweeps crowds to think this way or that… Irrespective of this `agenda`, we work, not talk… We work and the work is like digging a hole with a needle but it does not matter since what's important is what goes in our hearts: `Keep your heart clean` was all I heard from my mother, day and night, in and out, year after year… `Keep your heart clean…`
Our island becomes a colourful place with all the flowers blossoming, the sun getting hotter and hotter but every afternoon some sort of breeze coming from elsewhere to remind us that things can change very quickly… We are just travellers on this earth, one day we are here, next day we are not… More and more we hear of people dying of heart attack, of cancer, of amnesia at a young age… Our lifestyle developed in recent years is not sustainable… More and more our geography changes, our demography changes, our environment changes and with all of these, the behaviour of people changes… We no longer recognize the greed and the attempts to jump to a `higher class`, the `posh` lifestyles, the changing relationships… We no longer recognize our neighbours, our friends that we had known in the past and with whom we fell into different tracks… What is it that people want and can't get enough of? Is it money, more and more money? Is it power? More
and more power? Is it status at all costs?
In each meal we can only eat one plateful of food, not two… At the end we cannot bring the `riches` we would acquire during our lifetime to another place… At the end we just go six feet under – irrespective of where we come from so why hurt others, why not live a life sincerely, with honesty, why think of ourselves only and not of the others? Why this greed and pretence?
`Richness is like manure (kubri)` one friend writes, `the more it's spread, the more benefits it gives…`
We sit in a simple restaurant that cooks home food and my friend explains to me what sort of scandals are going on among the `ruling elites` of the Greek Cypriots… He talks of millions of Euros given by a company to some political leaders… We have had similar scandals that people got used to concerning money and greed… The worst disease according to one of my friends is the `learned helplessness` of our communities… Perhaps that's the reason why the winds can blow and sweep things this or that way very quickly… Nothing solid, everything written on the sand and with the waves, everything swept away…
We sit by the sea in Famagusta Boghazi as a multicultural group of friends: Two Turkish Cypriots, one Greek Cypriot, one Armenian Cypriot, Nouritsa Nadjarian… We put one of my jumpers on her, thick and cosy so she would not feel cold with the breeze coming from the sea… The sun is behind her so she would not feel hot… Our heart trembles when we look at her: She is 86 years old, a treasure of wisdom and love for us… She makes us laugh with her jokes and she warms our hearts…
`What has happened in the past has happened, we can't do anything about it` she says… `We don't know what lays in store for us in the future… The only thing we have is today… We should live knowing that all we have is today…`
She looks at the waves and says `Just like our lives… Waves coming and going…`
She has flowers given to her by our friends on our way here – we stopped at Kurumanastir, a village in Mesaoria close to Ebicho (Abohor). He too getting disappointed with people turned to nature and created a wonderful garden full of flowers and birds and turkeys and ducks, we took Nouritsa to look at this garden because she too knows the value of living with nature, within nature… Our friend gives her many flowers, one to put on her dress, a red rose to hold in her hand, a handful of fresh mint so she can smell and refresh herself… We go to Lefkoniko to another friend's house full of flowers… Here too, they cut flowers for her to take back home… She likes the colourful flower pots so we go searching for these pots so she can take back home and give them as gifts… Life is simple if you share it with love, life is simple if you are honest and respect nature and its ways… Nature is gentle, not violent… Nature is elegant offering us its
smells and its beauty without asking for anything in return…
This hard working, strong and at the same time very gentle woman had a tough life but never lost her love…
`Still` she says, `ours is the best country to live… Despite everything, Cyprus offers us such beauty…`
She brings out the innocence and the beauty in each and every one of us because she has a clean heart… When you meet people with a clean heart, they bring out your innocence and your honesty and your own beauty… They bring out the humanity hidden under layers of stereotypes and prejudices… They bring out the natural kindness that humans used to have once upon a time and lost over the years… They bring out the essence of our soul, the human soul, unspoilt, untarnished…
We sit by the sea and listen to the waves, cherishing our friendship… Friendship too needs love and care and sharing… Friendship makes us all more human, brings us more down to earth, cleanses our hearts and souls because we are able to share things that hurt us and things that make us happy…
The eternal waves on the shores of Famagusta Boghazi come and go with an endless cycle… We are only travellers on this earth, one day we are here and next day we are not… `Keep your heart clean` my mother told me day and night, in and out, year after year… Perhaps that's the most important thing she taught me in life and perhaps that's why our heart trembles when we look at Nouritsa: She too has kept her heart clean and we can all read that like a book on this spring day by the sea, listening to the waves and the breeze coming from the sea…

3.5.2014

Photo: Nouritsa Nadjarian on the shores of Famagusta Boghazi...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 1st of June 2014 Sunday.