Notes from London…

Notes from London…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 99 966518

A thirteen year old refugee girl from Famagusta whom I had never met, never spoken, never exchanged e-mails offers me the keys to her house. She had been 13 years old in 1974 when she left Cyprus with her family to go and live in London… Olia is 54 years old now, that little refugee girl and it touches my heart when she gives us her beautiful house and goes to stay with a friend a few doors down… Her roots go back both to Komi Kebir and to Famagusta – as we talk, we discover that we might have run across each other since her house had been two streets behind Euripides Street in Varosha, where my great uncle Ahmet lived. She shows me photos and google maps – we speak about Varosha, that distinct smell of flowers and the sea where we have not been able to find anywhere else on earth… I would go and stay with my great uncle Ahmet and my auntie Fattush my summer holidays and we would go to the beach and I would be tanning and swimming and smelling
the sea and the suntan oil of coconut… I would get a nice tan and in the evening I would sit on the balcony and listen to John Vickers playing songs at RIK… I had a small red transistor radio and my ear would be glued to the radio, singing along songs like `Yes it's gotta be a long, lonely summer…` (`Sealed with a kiss`)… In those days my mother had bought me a lovely shirt in lavender and had taken out the buttons and instead had sewn buttons with colourful flowers on them and I would wear my shirt in the evening, having washed my long hair, sitting on the balcony and singing along with the radio… Those had been happy days, wonderful days of the sun and the sea and the music and being young, my eyes full of stars, dreaming of a different world, everything opening up and looking forward to life that I would grab with all my passion… My mother taught me to love nature, to love all creatures of the earth, to love all flowers and trees, to
love people… Sometimes she would stay too with us in Varosha and we would go to visit relatives in the walled city, meeting cousins and laughing at things… Those days would be full of laughter and fun and curiosity about everything connected with life…
My auntie Fattush would make jam from apricots that we would eat in the morning, my great uncle Ahmet would have jars of octopus that he, himself caught – the reason why he had built this house in Varosha had been his love for the sea… Throughout his life he would be a champion swimmer, an octopus hunter, collecting hundreds of seashells from the bottom of the sea… In the morning we would go to the beach on his bicycle and come back for lunch and the house would be full of lovely smells of cooking of my auntie… My auntie would polish the wooden floors and I would sit in bamboo chairs at the sofa and dream my dreams about the future… Seashells would be everywhere in the house: Climbing the wooden steps upstairs from the front door, I would see seashells on the way up and in my great uncle's room with Morris armchairs, there would be the best pieces on display on shelves of glass…
Sometimes we would walk the streets of Varosha and look at the colourful life, shop windows, cars and pedestrians and bicycles passing by… Varosha would smell of flowers from citrus trees and the sea breeze would always remind us of the beauty of this earth… Varosha would be full of hotels and full of tourists and you would hear many languages on the beach – I would practice my English and my great uncle Ahmet would always chat with tourists, sometimes inviting them to his house for dinner – delicacies of octopus and other sea food…
Olia's house in London is like a sanctuary for me: It is away from traffic and noise and it's at Finchley, in a very quiet area and it is like a doll's house… In her tiny kitchen, we would sit together with my dear friend Christina from Komi Kebir, with whom I have come to London to attend a ceremony honouring me for my work organized by the Komi Kebir Association UK and the Organization of Relatives of Missing Cypriots UK… Christina whose father and brother are still `missing` from Galatia where they had last been seen, is a wonderful woman with a huge heart – so Olia, myself and Christina would sit at the tiny kitchen sharing our hearts, our memories, our lives, our hopes and dreams and the obstacles we encounter on the way… It is like a sisterhood in this quiet tiny house in Finchley and I would wear my pyjamas and read my book when they are not there, all alone except the birds in the garden… Birds are living in the chestnut tree and
they would come to the tiny garden full of flowers and plants and would eat the nuts that Olia had thrown for the squirrels so they can come down and I can see them… Olia tells me that occasionally foxes come too, to doze off under the shade of the trees… This house would cure me and refresh me and get me ready for more struggles and more work…
On Saturday the 16th of May 2015, we go to the Cypriot Community Centre where the event would take place… Already some relatives of `missing persons` are waiting for me and we sit down and talk… Soon the room would be packed with hundreds of Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots: The Turkish Cypriot Democracy Association also helps to organize this evening devoted to `missing persons` and my work and then there is no space to sit, to stand and some people have to go back because the room is packed… Christina and Olia got 14 yellow roses in memory of 14 `missing` persons from Komi Kebir and these are put in vases in the room to remind us of their memory…
Eleni Tryfonos who is the head of the Komi Kebir Association UK is like a thunderstorm: When she organizes something she would never take `no` as an answer and would storm out to get a `yes`! She has so much energy, such a vivid woman from Komi Kebir that it is simply amazing just to sit and watch her at work… She has put all her energy for the success of this event… She speaks and Mr. Neoklis Neokleous as the head of the Organization of Relatives of Missing Cypriots UK speaks… Their speeches touch my heart… Mr. Neoklis, in his speech says:
`This special event has been organised today to honour one of Cyprus best. A most courageous peace-journalist and human-rights-activist, Sevgul Uludag.
We honour Sevgul for what she has done for the relatives of the missing persons. This is because most of the information that the investigatory committee in Cyprus has used to locate graves and proceed to identification came from Sevgul. Given to her by ordinary Turkish and Greek Cypriots who trusted her.
For the G/C missing, she has achieved what UN resolutions, ECHR judgements and over 40 years of campaigning failed to achieve. Bring closure to any of the missing persons' cases.
Of course the fate and whereabouts for the majority of the missing is still unknown and the campaign will continue.
For the T/C missing, Sevgul went against the imposition of silence by the T/C leadership and gave their families a platform and an opportunity to tell their stories and claim their right to know as well.
To-date, thanks to Sevgul and the other guest of honour, Christina Pavlou Solomi-Patsia, as well as other good people of Cyprus, some present here today, many families of the missing, from both communities, have discovered the fate of their loved ones and have been able to bury their dead with dignity.
Christina's brother and father are still missing but she is supporting Sevgul's efforts to find others.
We also honour Sevgul for being the champion of reunification of Cyprus and its people. Bringing people close across the divide. I was happy to be present at an event she organised in Nicosia, honouring ordinary T/C and G/C for putting their lives in danger to save the lives of people from the other community.
We honour also Sevgul because through her "untold stories" series she is teaching us our good as well our grim history. She is filling books, paper articles and internet blogs with individual and family experiences of Cypriots who suffered due to murderous actions of extremists from the opposite community. And of people who became the victims of extremism in their own community.
Let these stories be a warning for all the Cypriots. As we hopefully move towards a free united Cyprus. We vouch that these experiences will never be repeated. Let's learn from the terrible mistakes of the past and move forward to a peaceful future, coexisting with acceptance and respect for each other, irrespective of ethnicity, religion or politics. Let's show the world that we don't need any protectors or guarantors.
Dear Sevgul, we are grateful for all you are doing for all of us Cypriots, we wish you well, and hope that the vision you very clearly articulate for a free, united, peaceful Cyprus will soon become a reality.`
Then I make my presentation about `missing persons` and Christina Pavlou Solomi Patsia also speaks and almost everyone who came to listen to us are crying… Afterwards we are presented with plaques and then a lot of relatives of `missing persons` come to meet with us and talk with us and enquire information and help for their `missing`… Some readers with the help of Mr. Neoklis come to see me to give me information about some possible burial sites in Cyprus…
I thank my dear friend Christina and Eleni Tryfonos and Mr. Neokis Neokleous for arranging such a meaningful event and I thank Olia as well for working hard to make this happen and offering her beautiful house to us during our stay in London with Christina…

22.5.2015

Photo: With the President of the the Organization of Relatives of Missing Cypriots UK, Mr. Neoklis Neokleous, presenting to me a commemorative plaque honouring my work for `missing persons`...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 14th of June 2015, Sunday.

Telling stories of butterflies who lost their wings…

Telling stories of butterflies who lost their wings…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

I travel to Larnaka, Limassol, Oroklini, Nicosia, Pallariotissa, London to speak and to tell the stories of `missing persons` and victims of our `conflict`… I go with EDON to Pallariotissa, to Larnaka, to Limassol and we will continue with Paphos to speak to youth about what it is that I and my friends from the bi-communal initiative of relatives of `missing persons` and victims of war, `Together We Can` are doing… I go to speak about the humanity of my Turkish Cypriot and Greek Cypriot readers, how they speak to me, how they show possible burial sites, how they open the way for the truth to come out… I go to speak of the pain and a life in paralysis of relatives of `missing persons`, how they have waited all these years, clothes ready, house ready, everything ready for the loved one to return who never has… I go to speak about these butterflies who lost their wings, who cannot fly, who cannot live, who cannot really continue their lives but sit
and wait in agony for news, for any news about what happened to their loved ones… I go to speak about 1963 and 1974, about how people had been kidnapped from their homes, from the roads, from the fields, from their working places, from their offices and how they have been executed in cold blood to end up at the bottom of a well or in a field or under a rubbish damp or in an abandoned farm yard… I go to speak about how women and very young girls had been chosen for rape, how everyone else were killed afterwards to cover up these rapes… The rapes in Maratha-Sandallaris-Aloa by some teams of EOKA-B and the rapes in Palekythro by some Turkish Cypriots from Epiho and Mora… I go to speak about the rapes in Assia and Aphania and Karpaz area and how rapes have always been used as a systematic tool by both some Turkish Cypriots and some Greek Cypriots… I go to speak about mass graves, I show photographs of these mass graves in Neachorio Kythrea,
Galatia, Maratha-Sandallaris-Aloa, Palekythro, Masari, Paralimni, Gerasa, Pareklisia… I show photographs of burial sites in Kythrea, Dikomo, Polemi, Polis, Trikomo, Koutsovendi, Chatoz, Livadia next to Komi Kebir, Epiho, Lyssi, Sinda and all the other places where we have found, with the help of my readers, remains of `missing persons`…
I go to speak and to listen and to answer questions…
I don't go to television shows, I rarely speak to the press, I just like to speak at such gatherings where people will feel both the evil and humanity existing side by side on this island. Where their hearts and minds would open up to this knowledge, where I can tell the stories and I can listen and where relatives of `missing persons` can speak and talk about their own feelings and how it feels to work together to end the agony and how it makes sense to connect the dots in order to understand what actually happened on this island…
I go to a lyceum in Nicosia to speak to a class of young students of 16 years old. With the initiative of their history teacher they have gone to make a joint project on `missing persons`, each gathering an aspect of the `missing` and also my work on `missing`. They made a small booklet with their findings, binding it and even creating a cover drawing themselves… They have also created a billboard with photographs and articles about my work and about `missing persons`. It is a Turkish Cypriot lyceum of high standards and I feel touched with the effort of their teacher and the students themselves… Some of them have some relatives `missing` and one of them tells me that they will have a funeral soon… The remains of their relative have been found in Machera and now it is time for the funeral… It is the funeral of the `missing` Fahri Ahmet Hudaverdi from Pervolia, Larnaka who had gone to Nicosia to sell vegetables – with him was Abdullah Hashim who
was married to his sister Munevver… There had been rumours that they were kept at Livadhia – there had been rumours that a team from Larnaka known for their ruthless activity had kidnapped them – they had kidnapped others and the black Mercedes that some from this team had been driving had stopped and `searched` other Turkish Cypriots travelling around Larnaka… One of those in the black Mercedes was from Mazotos and would also be involved during the coup in 1974…
There were other rumours that Fahri Ahmet Hudaverdi and Abdullah Hashim had been taken to the Kofinou police station at the time of their disappearance but all remained just `rumours`… Until his remains have been found in Machera – here the remains of seven `missing` Turkish Cypriots from 1964 have been found…
Fahri Ahmet Hudaverdi was from Pervolia, he had been a rising star… His father had been from Kalavassos but Fahri Ahmet had settled in Pervolia, Larnaka. His father's name was Ahmet Hudaverdi, also known as `Shinyari`… Fahri Ahmet had fields and was planting okra, artichokes, watermelon and melon and other vegetables… He was a farmer and had around 10-15 workers and sometimes 20-25 workers working in his fields… He had won the bid for providing vegetables to TURDIK and he would always be taking vegetables that he grew to Nicosia… He had six children, three boys and three girls… He had been married to Melek Hanim from Agios Theodoros near Kofinou…
When things started getting rough among the two main communities of our island back in 1963, he would carry his family to Agios Theodoros in order to ensure their safety… He had a car, a blue van with which he carried his vegetables to Nicosia. He had gone to Nicosia and on his way back, there were rumours that he had been kidnapped together with Abdullah Hashim around Lympia-Koshi… There were rumours that they had been taken to Larnaka for questioning and that they remained there only for a night…
He had actually been arrested twice before but his Greek Cypriot friends had saved him… You might think, `Why didn't he stay home then to be safe?` Would it have been easy to survive with six kids by staying at home? Most of those – particularly Turkish Cypriots – who `disappeared` from the roads had been either merchants or djambazis or those who got out of their village to travel to other places for work: They had no choice but try to survive, taking vital risks in order to bring some bread home for their kids…
When he had been kidnapped, Fahri Ahmet had a lot of money on him – some of those kidnapped and who `disappeared` had money because they were the `businessmen` of those times… Fahri Ahmet had bought 30-40 donums of land in a bid against Greek Cypriots of the village in those times – according to his son, this land has been used to build social housing for refugees in Pervolia… There had been some `jealousy` around Pervolia because Fahri Ahmet was a hardworking, well earning person and was buying considerable amounts of land which did not make some Greek Cypriot `nationalists` happy… According to his son Kemal who had spoken to me about the disappearance of his father, perhaps Fahri Ahmet was seen as a `threat` in Pervolia because people respected him and he was known for his generosity and helping other people in need – he was becoming quite influential in and around Pervolia… `Those who knew my father in Kiti and Pervolia felt sorry for
what happened to him`, Kemal Tutku had told me… He had gone to Kiti and Pervolia and had met his father's friends… `They did not approve of what had happened to my father – in these villages live left wing people who want peace on this island…` He has good friends in Kiti and Pervolia…
The six kids and the wife of Fahri Ahmet would remain in Agios Theodoros after his disappearance on the 4th of March 1964. Fahri Ahmet was only 33 and his wife was only 31 years old. They would first live with relatives, two or three kids sleeping in each bed… Later on they would be given a `refugee house` to live in…
Now Fahri Ahmet will have a real grave – from the Machera forest where his remains were found by the exhumation teams of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee – thanks to the efforts of Xenophon Kallis from the Committee for finding this burial site – he will be taken by his family to be buried in Agios Sergios where they live now… These butterflies who lost their wings because of the disappearance of their father will now find a little peace of mind… May he rest in peace and may we continue to tell their stories so that our youngsters will know what happened on this island…

12.5.2015

Photo: Fahri Ahmet Hudaverdi...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 7th of June 2015, Sunday.

The story of Tabakki…

The story of Tabakki…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 99 966518

Mehmet Arif Tabakki was a good man, a kind man, a well-respected man in the mixed village Alaminos… Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots lived in this village until 1974 and the Tabakki family always had good relations with their Greek Cypriot villagers. Sometimes they would partner in planting of fields, they would work together and share the burden of life as well as enjoying whatever gift the earth would bring to them…
The Tabakki family had such a good name in the village, also among the Greek Cypriots that some of them would feel very comfortable if the Tabakkis would be in the fields in order to send their daughters to work in the fields… They trusted he would protect their daughters like one of his own children.
Tabakki's wife Meyrem was also a hardworking Turkish Cypriot woman, well respected in the village by both communities.
An old Greek Cypriot in the coffee shop in Alaminos, Mr. Charalambos Dimitriou would tell me a story about Mehmet Arif Tabakki:
`At the beginning of the 1960s some Greek Cypriot youngsters had been arguing during elections about who to vote for… In the end they would go and ask Tabakki who to vote for and Tabakki would tell them who to vote for and they would vote like that!`
Tabakki had a lot of land in Alaminos and around – nowadays very valuable land…
Mehmet Arif Tabakki's son Ahmet was also a well-respected person in this village. Again in the coffee shop we hear a story about him:
`Before the 1963 events exploded up, there was a Greek Cypriot called Nenni with whom Ahmet Tabakki was a good friend and they worked together… Nenni, one day told Ahmet, `This country will not go for the better… I am going to go to Australia` and left his own fields in the care of his friend Ahmet Tabakki…
But all good stories on this island generally end with a tragedy and Alaminos and the story of Tabakki would be no different…
On the 20th of July 1974 as Mehmet Arif Tabakki saw a group of Greek Cypriot soldiers attacking the village, he would take his family to the orange grove he owned and he would go and check what was happening. At the orange grove there had been a `motor house` so the family would stay there while the 84 year old Tabakki would say `I will go to Kofinou to inform the United Nations Peace Keeping Forces there about what is happening here…` and he would set out to go following the river… Most probably shots would be fired from the nearby church, killing Mehmet Arif Tabakki by the river bank… His family would remain for three days in the motor home of the orange grove until someone who knew them would come out and tell them to stop hiding and come back to the river…
Meanwhile around 13 Turkish Cypriots of the village would be taken as prisoners of war and would be made to stand in front of a wall and executed in cold blood… The Tabakki family, coming back to the village would see the bits and pieces of parts of brains and blood on that wall… And then the Tabakki family would leave to go to Kofinou…
Mehmet Arif Tabakki's body would remain by the river bank for 10 or 15 days more, at the exact place where he had been shot dead… And then someone would burn his body…
Meanwhile some Turkish Cypriots who had remained in Alaminos would inform the Tabakki family in Kofinou that Mehmet Arif Tabakki had been shot and killed and then burned by the side of the river. When hearing this tragic and devastating news, the son of Mehmet, Ahmet Tabakki would take his own son Mehmet Ozarifoglou who had been 12 years old with him to go back to Alaminos… The wife of Mehmet Arif Tabakki, Meryem would also come with them… They would go on his tractor to the side of the river.
`As we collected the bones of my grandfather, my grandmother Meryem was crying… My grandfather was wearing a checkered shirt in black, green and white and we would find bits and pieces of his shirt, swirled because of the fire… My grandmother Meryem would recognize this shirt… We had found pieces of his skull but did not find too much remains… We collected whatever bones we found and put them in a bag… Taking this bag we would go back to Kofinou with our tractor and while entering the cemetery we would use a back road since being on the main road those days would be dangerous…We would bury the remains in a grave we would dig – a grave of 70 centimetres deep… Then my father Ahmet would put two stones, one at each end and would write my grandfather's name on the stone… Mehmet Arif Tabakki would be the only Turkish Cypriot from Alaminos who would be buried in Kofinou…`
These were the words of Mehmet Ozarifoglou who had been 12 years old at the time…
There were 15 `missing persons` from Alaminos… The remains of all 14 Turkish Cypriots `missing` from Kofinou had been found by Xenophon Kallis from the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee except one: The remains of Mehmet Arif Tabakki… Kallis had told me that he knew that the `missing` Tabakki had been buried in Kofinou and I would try to help to find someone who knew where he had been buried. The son of Mehmet Arif Tabakki, Ahmet Tabakki had died but I would find the grandson, Mehmet Ozarifoglou who had been the 12 year old kid present at the burial. I would convince him to come with me and show me and the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee the burial site of his grandfather…
So we had gone to Kofinou and Alaminos on the 23rd of January 2012 Monday – exactly three years ago – in search of the burial site of his grandfather… We would go together with Xenophon Kallis, Murat Sosyal and Okan Oktay from the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee…
Our first stop would be Kofinou…
`When we buried him, it didn't even cross our mind that we would leave and would never come back…` Mehmet Ozarifoglou explains to me…
`When the checkpoints opened we wanted to come with my father to find my grandfather's grave but quite a few Turkish Cypriots discouraged us from going… They said, `Greek Cypriots went with a shiro (bulldozer) to the Kofinou cemetery and destroyed all the graves!` and we believed them and did not go! But he would see today with his own eyes that these had been lies: When we find the cemetery he exclaims, `Oh my God! Everything is as we left it! Nothing has been touched!` and he can't believe his eyes – some Turkish Cypriots lied to them but in order to understand these lies, he had to come here to see with his own eyes…
We find the back door and climb up to try to find the grave of the `missing` Mehmet Arif Tabakki… Mehmet Ozarifoglou finds a few graves and says, `This might be the grave of my grandfather…`
Kallis had done research about the `missing` Mehmet Arif Tabakki in 1995 and he had found out that he had been buried in the Kofinou cemetery… We take photos of the possible grave and other graves around this one and leave the cemetery. We leave Kofinou to go to Alaminos to the spot where Tabakki had been killed.
At the exit of Kofinou on the road to Alaminos, on both sides of the road, the Tabakki family had lots of land and their own water wells…
We reach Alaminos – we see the spot where 13 Turkish Cypriot `missing` from Alaminos had been buried and exhumed – their remains were the first to be returned to their families and it was the first burial ceremony among the `missing` Turkish Cypriots…
Then we go to find the river… `My grandfather was shot just across the church` says Mehmet Ozarifoglou… We also see the house of the Tabakkis and the fig tree that Mehmet Arif Tabakki had planted with his own hands: The fig tree is still there… We stop to take photos of this tree… Then we find the river and the church…
A refugee from Rizokarpasso who came to Alaminos as a refugee tells us that once upon a time, while planting this field, his father had found a shoe and some bones inside the shoe… He had not taken that shoe… The remains most probably belonged to Mehmet Arif Tabakki…
Until mid-60s this river would flow both winter and summer and then it would only flow in winter time… The Greek Cypriot from Rizokarpasso would cut some fresh onions and gulumbra from his field and would offer to us… We would stop at the coffee shop of Despina from Agios Amvrosios…
There had been a two storey house here where 5-6 Turkish Cypriots were using as a military post but it has been demolished. They had killed five Greek Cypriots shooting from this military post… In Kofinou in the middle of the village, they have built some statues of these five Greek Cypriots who had been killed in Alaminos – we stop and I take their photographs…
Mehmet Ozarifoglou remembers:
`One of the Greek Cypriots who had been killed had been overweight – he was lying here on this corner, on the floor – we had seen him as we were leaving Kofinou at that time, he had been killed, lying dead…`
This had been the visit we made three years ago – now I receive news that the exhumation teams of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee had begun digging in Alaminos in the place where Mehmet Arif Tabakki had been killed and that after this, they would move to Kofinou to the possible grave that we had shown to the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee…
What great shame that a person as kind hearted and good as Mehmet Arif Tabakki from Alaminos has been killed like that… What great shame that people like him, innocent, nothing to do with any conflict – whether Turkish Cypriot or Greek Cypriot – have been killed…
In Cyprus most good stories end with tragedies… We must do everything humanly possible to prevent these in our common future...

30.4.2015

Photo: Mehmet Ozarifoghlou by the side of the river at Alaminos...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 31st of May 2015, Sunday.


Statement from a reader

Mr. Tilemahos Ioannides from Polemi called me last week to say that "The relatives of those killed during the bombing of the Turkish airplanes from Polemi had nothing to do with the criminal killings of the old woman Aliye and her son from Evretou". He said that the relatives of those killed in the bombing, had nothing to do with those crimes that he did not approve of. "War is something else, but killing innocent people is criminal" he said. Mr. Ioannides said that he had been wounded during the 1964 conflict and was under treatment for six months in the hospital and he had lost his brother at the bombing but despite this, in 1974, when Arodes village was surrounded he did not allow any Greek Cypriot soldiers to go into the village and he did not allow anyone to touch Turkish Cypriot villagers from Arodes. We thank Mr. Tilemahos Ioannides for sharing this information with us.

`Investigation into the murder of Kavazoghlu and Mishaoulis was stopped from UN Headquarters in New York…`

`Investigation into the murder of Kavazoghlu and Mishaoulis was stopped from UN Headquarters in New York…`

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

For the 50th Anniversary of the assassination of Dervish Ali Kavazoghlu and Costas Mishaoulis, on my FACEBOOK page, I share an article I had written years ago, on the 7th of April 2001. The response I get from one of my FACEBOOK friends from Sweden surprises me…
Tommy was in the Swedish contingent of the UNFICYP in 1964-1965 in Famagusta and he remembers the assassination of Kavazoghlu and Mishaoulis… But what is surprising for me is what he writes… He says, `Sevgul, I remember this because it was our unit who handled the investigation… I was not close to the investigation, but I remember that the investigator talked about possible motives. As I remember, both of the victims were Left wings and because of that, I think both sides could find reasons to kill them. There was never a result of this investigation, perhaps because the UN New York said stop. It`s up to anyone to wonder over who committed these murders. Sevgul, thank you. I have just read your article. So it`s clear that it was Kavazoghlu´s friends who committed the crime and that Mishaoulis just was at the wrong place. Have I understood this correct? As I told you, I got the information from one of the investigator s that there was an order from
Headquarters in New York to immediately cut off. Did TMT have that power to link it in that way?`
I write back to Tommy to say `At the very top I believe that the `mastermind` was the same to split the country playing one against the other so no surprise that the United Nations New York Headquarters would give such an order...`
Then I write to Tommy to see if he remembers anything more and he writes back to me this e-mail:
`Hi Sevgul,
I have read your article about the assassinations of Kavazoghlu and Kostas Mishaoulis and as I understand from the article, it was committed, or planned, by members of TMT in the Louroujina area. During our first month in Cyprus, May 1964, we made several escort missions to this village from Nicosia.
All this happened years ago, 50 to be more exact, and memories have that bad quality that they fade out by years. In UNFICYP Civilian Police, I was in that group in Famagusta which was responsible for village patrols, escorts and road checkpoints. I was too young to be involved in real investigations. But one of my best friends, Kurt Mellbris, became a part of this group who was ordered to investigate this murder on Larnaca Road near Koshi on April 11th 1965. I don`t remember who the others were or if there were policemen from other countries as well. Unfortunately, Kurt is no longer with us.
Anyhow, in the beginning of the investigation, there was an information, saying that the murderers travelled in a white car, an older (also in 1964) Singer, with a short flagpole on the radiator cap. From where this information came, I have no idea, but that was what I heard from Kurt about the murders. It was now very close to date when I should return to Sweden (April 29th). At that time I knew a Lebanese girl, working at Pendayia Hospital and one day (in the second half of April), she had come to Famagusta to visit me. Late in the evening, she should drive back to Pendayia. It wasn`t OK for me to let her drive by herself across the island in darkness, so I offered me to go with her to Pendayia, return to Famagusta in her car and then meet her in Nicosia next afternoon. So we did and some hours after midnight, I was on my way back to Famagusta. I used the straight main road.
Now, I can`t mention exact where, maybe at a junction on the highway, halfway between Nicosia and Famagusta, maybe close to the village of Kouklia, but suddenly I noticed a red light, wawing up and down some hundreds meters in front of me. I didn`t feel well because I hadn`t got any permission to leave Famagusta at this time and if it was the GC Police, I`m quite sure they would report it to my commander. Not good, even if I should leave Cyprus very soon after and that I had had a good reason to make this trip. When I came very close, I noticed that there were four or five civilians on the road and close to the road bank, I saw a white car, a Singer, with just such a flagpole on the filler cap. At that age, I normally wasn`t afraid of many things, but now, when I saw that car, I became afraid on the upper scale. I felt a compact coldness inside me, and my first thought was to speed up and try to pass them. But they stood in such a way that it had been
impossible to pass them without to hit any of them and if they were those who I suspected they were, and armed, I hadn`t had a chance. So I stopped. Four or five men, a bit older than me and well dressed. They seemed to be well fitted, athletic, and my first impression was, that they were soldiers, or maybe policemen. One of them seemed to be the leader and he came up to my front door. He asked kindly if I had a working jack because they had got a flat tyre. I had such a tool and when the rest of them changed the wheel, I and the leader talked about different things. He asked me what nationality I was, how Sweden was to live in and if I had liked my staying in the Cyprus and so on. We spoke just in English, so I don`t know if he was a GC or a TC. I didn`t see any arms or weapons. Suddenly, he asked me if Kurt is a Swedish name. A big bell rang in my head – a white Singer and a question if Kurt, one of the investigator of the murders, is a Swedish
name. I don`t lie when I say that I for a short moment saw myself lying in the ditch. I answered, that as far as I knew, Kurt is a German name, which it also is. "But there are Swedes with that name too, aren`t there?" At the same moment, one of the others came back with the jack. "OK, Thank you, have a nice trip back to Famagusta", the leader said and shook my hand.
On the rest of the trip back to Famagusta this night, thousands of thoughts drove through my head. How should I be able to explain that I had been at that highway in the middle of the night without permission from my superiors. But we can say that I was saved by the bell, because short after I was informed that the investigation had been ordered to be ended. Exactly when this order came, I don`t know, but I was informed just one or two days after my illegal night trip. And then there were no need for me to tell anyone about it. Not even that Lebanese girl.
I still don`t know if this white Singer with the flagpole which I saw on the Famagusta Road, was the same car as the information to the investigator talked about. Maybe there were lots of them in the Cyprus. I don`t know if the men I met were GC or TC, but I have through the years been of that apprehension that they were GC, maybe Yiorghadjis men, because of the place where I met them. I still don`t think that TMT had that power to, through UN Headquarters to stop such an investigation.
Sevgul, I don`t know if UNFICYP Civilian Police still serves in the Cyprus. If so, maybe they have filed even older investigations. I`m quite sure, the investigators from 1964 must have made lots of notes. If they were ordered to destroy them after that the investigation was stopped, I don`t know.
It`s 50 years since this happened, but that night on the Famagusta Road, I don`t forget. Of course, if the investigation hadn`t been stopped at that time it was, I had shared my observations with the investigators and taken the punishment for my non-permissioned trip that night.
Kindly regards
Tommy`
The persons who had killed Kavazoghlu and Mishaoulis in fact were not from TMT but were opponents of TMT in Louroudjina – they were meeting Kavazoghlu and distributing brochures in Turkish of AKEL. According to my investigation they were caught with the brochures in the village and forced by TMT to set up an ambush to kill Kavazoghlu – either they would die or Kavazoghlu would be killed. So they chose to help assassinate Kavazoghlu and Mishaoulis who happened to be with him. According to the villagers a red or green car was used plus another car… A shepherd seeing the car and hearing gun shots had gone running to Louroudjina to report this to the Turkish Cypriot police. They told him to shut up and mind his own business.
After Tommy's letter, I investigated the white car, the Singer he is mentioning in his letter. According to some villagers, this car had belonged to some Greek Cypriots who had been kidnapped by some Turkish Cypriots and although the Greek Cypriots were set free later on, they did not give back the car and the commander of the village was using this car in and around Louroudjina… Others told me that this car, the white Singer used to be used by TMT and one of the famous snipers of TMT had been driving it in Nicosia – I am not sure which one is true… We are talking about 50 years ago, half a century to be exact…
What's important for me is if it is true, why the UN Headquarters in New York had decided to stop the investigation about Mishaoulis and Kavazoghlu… I have contacted the UNFICYP Commander in Cyprus, Major General Kristin Lund and wrote to her to see if they can contribute to this issue with the information they must have in their files from 50 years back… Perhaps some of my readers who know more details can share it with us, like Tommy did… I want to thank Tommy from Sweden for sharing this vital piece of information and invite my readers to do the same if they know any more details…

3.5.2015

Photo: Children laying flowers on the grave of Kavazoghlou...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 17th of May 2015, Sunday.

Finding the `missing` of Polis…

Finding the `missing` of Polis…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

Good news comes and finds me: The remains of the fourth `missing` Turkish Cypriot from Polis have been found in the place we had shown together with an old witness to the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee… We had gone to Polis on the 21st of October 2013 with an old witness who had come from London for holidays and the relative of a `missing person` from Polis had helped me to find him: He knew where some `missing` Turkish Cypriots had been buried…
It all came about quite accidentally, so to say… We had gone to Nikita village to look at a possible burial site and the person who was the owner of the house had been from Makunda… We had gone together with the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee and there, the Assistant of the Greek Cypriot Member of the Committee, Xenophon Kallis had asked the guy from Makunda whether he had any information about those Turkish Cypriots' whereabouts who had been killed in the war in 1974 in Polis. The old man had said he knew nothing about it. The Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee had been excavating some places for these `missing` persons for over a year without any results…
When Kallis and the old man from Makunda were conversing I remembered Unay and Hasan Pasha from Polis… Unay's father, Ahmet Ethem Ibrahim has been `missing` from Polis since August 1964 and I had gone to their house in Morphou to interview them for my book `Oysters with the missing pearls`… Ahmet Ethem Ibrahim had gone away in his blue Morris van towards Paphos and no one ever saw him again: It was 21st of August 1964… After some time Unay Hanim would see her father's car painted in the colours of camouflage and was being used by some Greek Cypriot soldiers… She would report this immediately to the UN but nothing happened…
I thought of calling and asking her about what Kallis was enquiring about: The `missing persons` from 1974 from Polis. Unay's husband Hasan had already spoken to me about those killed in Polis in 1974.
So I called her and she was very eager to help… She told me that the person who had buried some of these `missing` from 1974 was in fact on holidays in Cyprus from London. He was someone from Polis who lived in London. Unay Hanim would find me his phone and I would call the old Turkish Cypriot, Mr. Shevket Rado and ask for his help… I ask him to come with us to Polis and show us where the burial sites are. Despite his old age, problems of health, problems with his leg and the fact that he has to go to dialysis three times a week, he accepts quite willingly to help out voluntarily.
On 21st of October 2013 Monday morning we go to Polis together with Shevket Rado and the officials of the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee: Xenophon Kallis, Okan Oktay, Murat Soysal and one of the Greek Cypriot archaeologists. My husband gets up early and prepares wonderful sandwiches for us to eat at Polis since we need to be back in Nicosia early afternoon and would not have time to stop and eat.
We go to Polis. We go to the old cemetery of the Turkish Cypriots where a monument for the only `missing` Member of Parliament, Cengiz Ratip and `missing` teacher Turgut Sitki has been erected. Cengiz Ratip and Turgut Sitki are `missing` from Polis since 14th of February 1964. Despite all the efforts their remains have still not been found.
The old man, Shevket Rado takes us behind the monument at the cemetery.
Mr. Shevket Rado had been living in London since 1963 and was on holiday in Polis in 1974 when the war broke out. He would become a prisoner of war together with other Turkish Cypriots of Polis. One day some Greek Cypriots would come to the place where they had been kept as prisoners of war and would choose five of the strongest Turkish Cypriots – among them was Mr. Shevket as well. The Greek Cypriots took them to bury the three Turkish Cypriots killed in the war. Without absolutely any hesitation Mr. Shevket shows exactly where they had buried the three `missing` Turkish Cypriots. In a cavity of around one and a half to two meters they had buried Mehmet Chatallo, Ahmet Beyaz and Ayshe Ramadan. `You will find half a skeleton in the grave, we did not remove that, there was his head, arm and half of his body – this was an old skeleton from the old cemetery but when you dig, this might come out as well – let it not confuse you…` he explains to the
archaeologists.
I ask him to show us the possible burial site of the fourth `missing person` from 1974, Kemal Ismail. Hasan Pasha, the husband of Unay Pasha had told me the story of Kemal Ismail, that he had committed suicide at his military post - `If I see the Greek Cypriots coming, I will commit suicide` he had been saying and Hasan Pasha had warned his relatives about this… He too is `missing`… Mr. Shevket Rado takes us to the new cemetery of Turkish Cypriots of Polis - he leads the way and tells us that Kemal Ismail was buried in this cemetery… We thank him and go back to Nicosia…
Soon after the archaeologists start digging the spot behind the monument in the old cemetery of Polis and find the remains of the three `missing` Turkish Cypriots – just as Mr. Shevket explained, they also find half a skeleton…
Then news comes last week that the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee excavation team has found the fourth `missing person` in the new cemetery where Mr. Shevket had shown us the possible burial site.
Four more families will take back the remains of their loved ones and I thank from my heart Mr. Shevket Rado who came and showed us the burial sites despite his old age and illnesses, Ms. Unay Pasha and her husband for helping to find Mr. Shevket and the Cyprus Missing Persons' Committee officials for exhuming these sites…
With the totally voluntary, humanitarian work, we have managed to find the remains of four more `missing` Turkish Cypriots… Unay Pasha, despite her own `missing` father helped to find other `missing persons`…
Despite grave difficulties with his health, Mr. Shevket helped quite willingly…
With people like them Cyprus has hope for the future – they are people who are not greedy and calculating like so many others – they have pure human hearts who are eager to help without expecting absolutely nothing in return…
The only thing that makes me sad is that despite her incredible humanity, we have not been able to give any news to Unay Pasha about her father Ahmet Ethem Ibrahim who has been `missing` from Polis for the past 51 years!
If anyone knows of his possible burial site, please call me with or without your name on my CYTA mobile: 99 966518.
Let's continue to work for humanity to prosper on this island… Let's continue to work for humanity not greed, for compassion and mercy to take root on this soil…

11.4.2015

Photo: With Shevket Rado at Polis...

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 10th of May 2015, Sunday.

The story of Kyriacou Frangou who did not want to leave her chicks…

The story of Kyriacou Frangou who did not want to leave her chicks…

Sevgul Uludag

caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 966518
00 90 542 853 8436

One day I receive a message from Christina Frangou:
`Dear Sevgul,
I was given your name from our mutual friend, Andreas Maras. I have already known about you and the award you were given and consider you as a brave and special compatriot. The reason I am writing to you is that I think you can help me to find some compatriots from the Turkish Cypriot community.
Here is my story: My aunt Kyriakou Frangou, resident of Nea Smyrni, Ougou Foskolou (Hougo Foskolo) Street, 27, a street very close to the Medieval Walls of Famagusta and the church of Saint Georgios Xorinos, was killed by Turkish soldiers on the 16th of August 1974. When the night and the dark came, her Turkish Cypriot friends and neighbours dug a grave in the front yard of her house and buried her. Then they found a way and informed her brother and her nephews about her. Our family will be very honoured if some of these people came to her funeral on the 21st of March here in Limassol at the cemetery of Sfalagiotissa. The only information I have are two names: Vedia Ismail and Salih, a black Turkish Cypriot who was a policeman. Certainly we will also be very honoured if you also come to my aunt's funeral. Looking forward to speaking to you soon…
Christina Frangou.`
I write back to her after trying to find the people she was mentioning:
`Dear Christina,
A friend from Famagusta checked and Vedia Ismail is no longer alive… She also went to the house of Mr. Salih but no one was at home. She will try again when she goes to Famagusta… If you send me a few lines about your aunt and a photo of her, I would like to write a few lines about her and her friendship in Famagusta…`
Christina also writes on Facebook, trying to locate her auntie's friends:
`Next Saturday, on the 21st of March at 10 o'clock in the morning, it's the funeral of my late aunt Kyriakou Frangou who was killed by Turkish soldiers during the Turkish invasion of Cyprus. She was buried in the yard of her house by her Turkish Cypriot friends and neighbours where she stayed until February 2011. The current owner of her house always planted fresh flowers on her grave just to show his respect and to honour her. She was unearthed and identified through DNA method. Forty years have passed since then but there may be Turkish Cypriots among her friends who are still alive. If there was a chance to find them and invite them just to thank them for what they did that terrible day, it would be the best honour to her memory.`
Finally we can't find the Turkish Cypriot friends of Kyriakou Frangou but as promised, Christina sends me the story of her aunt:
`Kyriakou Frangou was born in Ayia Triada Yialousas in 1909… When she was still very young, she had moved to Varoshia where she started working in the orange orchards of the area Nea Smyrni, not far from the walls of Famagusta… She watered and took care of orange trees… She loved the trees, the flowers and birds… She loved all the people who were close to her… She did not distinguish whether a neighbour was Turkish or Greek Cypriot, she used to say that every human being was a child of God and she loved and helped her fellow people just the same…
There, she made her home, in a semi-detached house next to her brother's house…
She never got married so she loved any child, relatives or not, the same…
That terrible day, when the Turkish army invaded Famagusta and when everybody were leaving their homes to save their lives, she didn't leave.
She told her brother and the other relatives that she couldn't leave her house and her birds… She had chicken and small chicks…
When one cousin asked her to come with him to his house, she said:
`But what about my babies? I cannot leave my babies…`
The `babies` were the little chicks, the poulli as we say it…
Before the soldiers got near her house, her Turkish Cypriot friends were begging her to hide her in their homes but she did not accept their offer lest the soldiers found her there and killed them as well. She was killed in her front yard of her house…
When the night and the dark came, her neighbours buried her in her yard, next to her jasmine which so much she loved… When we visited her house in 2009, the new owner showed us a flower bed full of beautiful flowers… That's where she was buried…
She was unearthed in February 2011 and after all the formalities had been done, we buried her officially and according to her religion on the 21st March 2015.
Name: Kyriakou Frangou
Place of birth: Ayia Triada Yialousas
Place of death: Nea Smyrni Famagusta
Date of death: August 1974
Cause of death:
1. Trauma from bullet shot on the chest
2. Trauma from bullet shot on temple
3. Trauma from a bullet on the legs.
Reason of death:
CIVIL WAR CAUSED BY THOSE WHO DOMINATE THE PEOPLES OF THE WHOLE PLANET AND ROB THEIR FORTUNES AND THEIR FORTUNE.
The above information has been taken from the death certificate… `
I call Christina to tell me more and this takes her back to her memories of her childhood with her aunt…
When her aunt was taking her to the orange orchards at the age of four or five…
Her aunt would work and she would play…
`She told me to listen to birds… She was teaching me the different sounds of birds…
She loved animals…
In those years people couldn't be considered `animal friendly` - they loved animals if they gave them food… But my aunt was very kind to these animals… She would always tell me `They are also creatures of God…`
Now that I speak to you about these things, I realize that the character I formed was also her work… She taught me things about nature…
Since she didn't have children and she loved children, she was always offering things… She took care of all of us… She was a person who wanted to offer…
What she loved most was jasmine…`
The woman from Ayia Triada who spent her life gardening in the orange orchards of Varosha, the woman who loved nature, the woman who did not leave her house because she had small chicks and she did not want to leave behind was just another of the innocent victims of war… She now rests in Limassol, in the cemetery of Sfalagiotissa…
I had been there the day they were beginning the exhumations in the front yard of her house…
I am so happy that Christina Frangou contacted me – next time I go to Limassol, I will meet Christina and perhaps she can take me to her aunt's grave where I can lay some flowers, perhaps jasmine…
She is tragically gone but her respect and love for nature lives in Christina and in all the people that she touched with her love and care…
May you rest in peace Kyriacou Frangou… The friendship you planted will live through the friendship we have now with Christina… Nothing goes to `waste` on this earth, nothing that is good, nothing that is created with love and care… All the good things always find a way to continue to grow and bring more love to others…

4.4.2015

Photo: Kyriacou Frangou

(*) Article published in the POLITIS newspaper on the 3rd of May, 2015 – Sunday.

Memories of refugee children in my life…

Memories of refugee children in my life…

Sevgul Uludag
caramel_cy@yahoo.com

Tel: 00 357 99 96651
00 90 542 853 8436

My first encounter with the refugee children was in Nicosia in the backyard of the library where my mother was working… It must have been the early winter of 1964 – all of a sudden, there came Turkish Cypriot refugees from Paphos and were settled temporarily in some empty buildings in the backyard of the library… The library building itself had been a `konachi` once upon a time so the buildings in the backyard must have been for the servants of the pasha… Spending all my time in the library as a child from the age of three, I started playing with the refugee children in this old `konatchi` (`palace`) which had a dark cellar, winding stairs, gilded mirrors and toilets outside as it used to be in the old days…
It also had a water reservoir and taps in the backyard for washing up – it had no shower or bathroom so the refugees would create a bath in one spot in the backyard – a makeshift room with lamarina – in order to be able to wash themselves…
They had brought their weaving machines from Paphos and I would sit and watch the refugee women weaving clothes – an old woman would be using a sheave to wind thread out of wool and I would watch them using a hand mill of stone to grind cereals…
I had made friends with a wonderful refugee child from Paphos, Melahat – she had blond hair and blue eyes and was very thin and we would play for hours with her…
In the backyard of the library an aid office for refugees had been opened and together with Melahat we would go and watch the chubby elderly guy in charge distributing the aid that would arrive from abroad… There were big bundles of raffia ribbons, clothing and even a fur coat… Someone who donated these must have been very imaginative: What would a refugee do with the bundles of raffia ribbons? They needed food and shelter and a decent life…
Food was rationed in those days, not just for refugees but for almost everybody… Not far from the library was another office for rationing food and petrol. There was no petrol I remember, you were only allocated so many gallons of petrol per month so my mother and I would have to walk home instead of using our old Volkswagen… The food they distributed for refugees were made up of canned food, some sugar and flour and lentils I remember…
But in those days Melahat and I did not have such things on our minds – as 5-6 year old kids, our biggest worry was to grow up quickly, to start school, to play games… The elementary school I was going was not far from the library which was in the very centre of the walled city of Nicosia. My school was in the Arabahmet area around Victoria Street and was actually a makeshift school: It was sort of `created` for the children of the refugees and the Arabahmet area… It was next to the famous Pavlides' garage and here in this building, I would learn to read and write, to count, to recite poetry, to dance with the music of Strauss, to sing songs and learn to play melodica… We had an orchestra and a chorus – there were very few rich children at our school – our school was a school for children who were poor or who were refugees… There was a rectangular yard of the school and the road passing in front of the Pavlides' garage – we would have
our PT lessons in the street because there was nowhere else to do this! My white shorts would get dirty from the asphalt but still this was no issue for any of us: All we thought of were the new games or the next school gathering for parents at the end of the year where we would be distributed roasted chick peas and a bottle of Belkola – we would throw the roasted chick peas covered with salt in the cola and listen to the noise it made! We were one big family of kids who came from poverty but poverty was not a sin, nor was it something to be ashamed of – you just learned to live with it although poverty would steal a lot of our childhood dreams…
And we had wonderful teachers – one teacher I remember prepared us to dance as butterflies with the music of Strauss… We had yellow chiffon wings that our mothers would sew on our dancing costumes… Our music teacher Nesrin would play songs with her accordion in class and our headmaster Fikri Karayel would choose five-six of us to go to private lessons in his house in the afternoons in our last year in order to prepare us for the English College exams for free – all of us whom the headmaster had prepared voluntarily would pass the exams with flying colours…
The English College was created after the intercommunal conflict in 1963 and was a school very much like The English School – because of lack of safety – people were `disappearing` from the streets – some of those Turkish Cypriot students who had been students of The English School could no longer go there for safety reasons… So The English College was created and this was a school that prepared students for the GCEs… It was an expensive school because all the books were imported from England and I remember my mother struggling to pay for those school textbooks…
After some time, a refugee village was built for the refugee families and my refugee friends from the library backyard moved into tiny refugee houses not far from Ortakeuy. We were growing up and moving to secondary schools and while I lost contact with most of the kids from that era, few of them in fact were in my class at The English College. Melahat with her family I heard, moved to Australia… Papatya from my class also moved as a refugee to Australia…
The English College would undergo another big change in 1974 – more refugee children would come to our school from Larnaka and Limassol and Paphos and gradually the name of the school would be changed to `Turk Maarif Koleji` (`Turkish Education College`) and it would lose its essence of being an `English school` - now students would not only prepare for GCEs but also for the university entry exams of Turkey so students would have to take more lessons in Turkish… During the time of The English College, teachers for French would come from France, teachers for various other subjects would come from England but gradually this would be wiped out and the school would acquire a different character than when it started off…
At The English College, the atmosphere would be a bit different from the Arabahmet Elementary School… We would have more `rich kids` in our school as well as children of refugees from all over the island. Here, I would be in the same class with Neshe Yashin, our famous poet with whom we would spend time outside school as well in the library or in her father's bookshop… Neshe too was a refugee child from Peristerona… Neshe's father, another famous Turkish Cypriot poet of those times, Ozker Yashin would publish a newspaper and write about the problems of the refugees… A refugee himself from Peristerona, he would be the spokesperson for the Turkish Cypriot refugees… Years later Neshe would visit her village and some Greek Cypriots would give her plates that had belonged to her mother and she would see and recognize some of the furniture that belonged to her mother… Their house had been looted…
As young students we would go around old Nicosia, write notes in class to each other, spend time in the library and Neshe would write poems… After 1974 she would write her most famous poem that would leave a mark on our hearts and souls: Which part shall I love?
`One should love one's homeland
So says my father
But my homeland is divided into two
Which part should I love?`

28.3.2015

Photo: Neshe Yashin

(*) Article published in POLITIS newspaper on the 26th of April 2015, Sunday.