Sevgul Uludag
caramel_cy@yahoo.com
Tel: 99 966518
We all know about the tragic story of Leyla Kiralp: She was a young woman from Mari, married to Ahmet from Zygi when the EOKA-B had taken her husband away and together with the Turkish Cypriots from Tochni, her husband too would "disappear", only to be found years later buried in a mass grave in Gerasa…
Leyla would write her autobiography in a beautiful book called "The Wet White Handkerchief that We Shared" and would tell the story of her life… The handkerchief she was talking about in that book belonged to a Greek Cypriot refugee woman, Maria from Famagusta whom she would meet whilst still in Zygi with no news from her "missing" husband, crying and depressed and in shock… Maria would console her and be like a mother to her… Maria had come from Famagusta, running away from war in 1974 to become a refugee in Zygi… The friendship of these two women, Leyla and Maria would overcome everything surrounded by conflict: The partition, the suspicions, the enmity, the hatred harboured by some among the communities and the tragedy would be something they would share and find their humanity amongst that mess…
When it was time for Leyla to leave Zygi to go to the northern part of our island as a refugee, Maria would give her the keys to her house in Famagusta and tell her, "Go and stay there…"
She would also give Leyla a white handkerchief to dry her tears and Leyla would keep that handkerchief as a symbol of humanity on this land… That handkerchief would become the name of her book, her autobiography…
Of course Leyla would go to the house of Maria in Famagusta but other people had been living there…
Maria and Leyla would continue their friendship despite the harsh conditions of partition in Cyprus…
When Maria's husband had died, Leyla would fly to London and from there go to Larnaca to see Maria and lay some flowers on the grave of Maria's husband: The regime in the northern part had not allowed Leyla to go to the funeral…
When checkpoints would open in 2003, Leyla would regularly visit Maria…
Leyla and Maria would become a symbol of friendship especially after the publication of her book in Turkish and in Greek. Leyla would do a lot of activities around her book where she would speak of peace and friendship…
On the 8th of September 2017, Maria would pass away… May she rest in peace…
Leyla would be devastated… She would attend the funeral of her dear friend to say goodbye to her…
I would ask her, after the funeral to put down together her feelings…
And she would write an article about Maria entitled "Mitera Maria!"
I would publish in Turkish on my pages in YENIDUZEN newspaper and I want to share with my readers in POLITIS today what Leyla has written…
For me the most important thing in Cyprus is our relationships as children of this land… For me the most vital thing is our friendships that can survive under any condition… This is the only way to build a better future on this island… And Leyla and Maria have proven that if you are friends, it does not matter whether there are "borders" between you, whether people try to stop you from seeing each other: You find a way… Because your genuine love of friendship can surmount any obstacle…
Here is what Leyla Kiralp has written after losing her dear friend Maria:
"Mitera Maria!
My son Shevki called: "Mother, I have bad news. We lost Mitera Maria. Her funeral is tomorrow (9th of September 2017) at 14.30 at the village church of Holetria…"
Even though it is very hot, this news made me feel as though I feel in a massive block of ice and I started shivering…
On my last visit she could not talk or even recognize me… Despite this, from among her dry lips came out the words "Le…."
A life of 91 years… Apart from the last three years that she spent ill, bedridden, she had a life in health, she was always productive and full of love. She was a typical Cypriot woman who loved to eat and drink and host visitors…
She had grown up in the village Mandria. She got married with her beloved husband Chrisanthos and would settle in Holetria. Afterwards they would move to Famagusta and they lived there until the 14th of August 1974. Some of the houses on the road of Famagusta-Salamis belong to them and to their relatives.
Due to the tragedy of the 14th of August 1974, just like thousands of Cypriots, they too had to leave their house.
And just like thousands of Cypriots, me too had lost my first husband on those tragic days… The pain we lived through brought us together. Mitera Maria would forget her own pain and would share my pain…
She would become the main hero of my book called "The Wet White Handkerchief that We Shared" telling how we had met, how we had embraced each other on that dark day… That "wet and white handkerchief" is hidden in the most beautiful place of my house now like a precious jewel.
After a very short while, I too had to leave my house in Zygi where I had lived with my first husband for less than a year. When I was leaving the Zygi village, Mitera Maria gave me the keys to her house in Famagusta…
"Go and live in my house, use my furniture" she had said.
When I came to Famagusta, I went to the address she had given me but there were others living there. Her furniture had long been looted.
We communicated for a short while. Then all communication was cut off with the southern part of our island. "Borders" were closed. The checkpoints were sealed off with black locks…
With the installation of the telephone connections by the UNFICYP in 1998, I found her again. After 24 years, we met at Ledra Palace… We embraced each other with so much warmth that foreign journalists felt the need to interview us and they asked us these questions: "One of you is Turkish Cypriot, the other is Greek Cypriot. How can you embrace each other with so much love and longing? We were told that Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots were enemies…"
From that day onwards we would often speak on the phone with each other… Speaking with Mitera Maria was like speaking with my past. It was like embracing my house, my village, my days of youth…
Her beloved husband Chrisanthos would get ill. I would give countless applications to our authorities to go and visit him. They barely gave permission only once. They would pass from the Ledra Palace checkpoint and come and pick me up and I would go to Limassol…
In August 2000, the beloved husband of Maria, Mr. Chrisanthos passed away. I wanted to go to his funeral but the relevant authorities in the northern part of the island refused to allow me. The idea behind the refusal I got from them was this: "Greek Cypriots have killed her husband and this woman still continues her friendship with Greek Cypriots. Either she is crazy or she is a traitor!"
In those years my son was 15 years old. I took my son with me and I went to London. In London we applied and got the Republic of Cyprus passports and then flew from London to Larnaca. There was no other way to see Mitera Maria anyway… Mitera Maria greeted us at the Larnaca airport and we went to visit the grave of Mr. Chrisanthos. After staying for a week in Limassol, we would fly back from Larnaca to London and back to the northern part of our island.
Mitera Maria was very happy like us when the checkpoints opened in 2003. She came excitedly to Famagusta. We took her to her house. She went around the rooms of her house… She caressed the neglected walls of her house… She embraced the lemon tree in her garden and she cried…
After the opening of the checkpoints, Maria would come many times and stay in our house. We would take her to the house of Ayla Halit, the first Turkish Cypriot woman MP before 1974 and to the shop of the watchmaker Niyazi and to her old neighbours…
We too would go very often to Limassol and every time we visited her, Mitera Maria would bake for us Cypriot pastries like borek, katmer and flaounes…
Getting to know Mitera Maria, the main hero of my book, has given me guidance in shaping my life correctly. I got the virtue of forgiveness due to her… She never said any bad words for Turkish Cypriots even once. She always spoke of peace, of solution, of friendship…
Mitera Maria was a hardworking, productive, courageous labourer… Despite the fact that she was working at a police station, she never felt the need to hide the fact that she was friends with me. She never feared that she would lose her job. She would always praise our friendship…
She loved me like her daughter, she loved my husband Mustafa like her own son-in-law and my son Shevki, as her own grandson. I could feel her happiness on her face and in her eyes, when I would always call her "Mitera"…
We had this legendary feeling between ourselves, this friendship. We had such a relationship like a mother and daughter that many mothers and daughters cannot achieve…
She left me our friendship, love and peace as a heritage… And I will leave that heritage to the generations to come after me…
Her physical separation from us made us all very sad… It would be very difficult to get used to her absence.
On the 9th of September 2017, at the humble ceremony in the village church of Holetria village, she body left us… This was her last journey to go to her beloved husband Chrisanthos. Papalazaros would shake slowly the branch of basil in his hand and say, "Goodbye, you are going to Heaven, have a good trip kiriya Maria…" Just like the flame of the candle in his hand, my heart and my hands were shaking… Then the candle went out… But the flame of friendship and peace that Mitera Maria has left me as a heritage will never extinguish…
She was sleeping peacefully in her coffin full of white flowers. I kissed her forehead to say goodbye for the last time… It was an extremely difficult farewell, this last farewell!"
(LEYLA KIRALP – 12.9.2017)
Photo: Leyla, her husband Mustafa, her son Shevki with Mitera Maria...
(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 8th of October 2017, Sunday. A similar article in Turkish was published in the YENİDÜZEN newspaper on the 14th of September 2017 and its link is:
http://www.yeniduzen.com/mitera-maria-11232yy.htm
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