Kıbrıslıların yakın bir geçmişte içinden geçmiş olduğu müdahaleler ve bölünme süreci, eşi benzeri görülmemiş birçok hayat hikayesinin ortaya çıkmasına sebebiyet vermiştir.
Benim anneannem ve dedem, Kıbrıs’ın Baf kentine bağlı Poli kasabası yakınlarında bulunan iki köydendi. Daha bir yaz günü Tera’daki düğünlerinin ortasında, askerlerin gölgesi anneannemi kuzeye gitme veya kalma konusunda sözde bir tercihe mahkum etmişti. Bölünme, yer değiştirme, köylerini ve hayatlarını bırakma derken; seneler boyu birçok farklı zorluk karşısında birlikte mücadele vermişlerdi. Aslında geri dönecekler düşüncesiyle içinde bulundukları durum önce aylara, sonra yıllara ve en son on yıllara dönüşmüştü. Hayatın karşılarına çıkardığı hiçbir zorlukta pes etmemişlerdi.
Baba tarafından adını taşıdığım rahmetli dedem ise Minareliköylü, genel kültürü yüksek bir siyasi bilimler mezunuydu. Kıbrıslı Türk havacılık tarihinde bilindiği üzere kendi başına küçük bir uçak yaparak kısa mesafeden uçmuştu. Aynı zamanda Kıbrıs’ın İngiliz döneminde sistemin içinde yer almak bile ona başlı başına bazı gerçekleri göstermişti. Bağımsız bir Kıbrıs için İngiliz vatandaşlığını reddederek ve gönüllü olarak vatandaşlıktan çıkarak gördüklerine yönelik en sembolik hareketi yapmıştı. Dedemin adı, başarıları vesilesiyle birçok yerel kitapta yer almıştır.
Uzun lafın kısası, Kıbrıs’ın karmaşık tarihinden doğmuş ve dinlenmeye değer, kendi ailem başta olmak üzere birçok hikaye biliyorum. Fakat bu hikayelerden en ilginci, 59 senelik ayrılığı ele alan bir arkadaşlık hikayesi olan nenemin hikayesidir ve bu hikayeyi sizlerle paylaşmak istedim.
Nenem, Eral Şahoğlu, bir Larnakalıydı. 1944 yılında Kıbrıs’ın Larnaka şehrinde bir öğretmen ve bir ev hanımının ikinci kızı olarak dünyaya geldi. İlkokulda okurken annesini kaybetti. İlkokulu bitirmesinin ardından eğitimine Larnaka’da bulunan Amerikan Akademi’de devam etmeye başladı. Okulunda okuduğu süreçte İngilizce dilinde çeşitli dersler gördü ve birçok arkadaşı olan başarılı bir öğrenci konumuna geldi.
Nenemin en yakın arkadaşı, Banayoda Antoniou adında Rumca konuşan bir Kıbrıslıydı. Nenem gerek okul saatleri içerisinde, gerekse okul saatleri dışında Banayoda ile çok vakit geçiriyor ve yakın bir gelecekte olacaklardan tamamen habersiz bir şekilde Larnaka’daki hayatına devam ediyordu.
Larnaka’da kaptan olan büyük dedemin torunu olan nenemin babası öğretmenlik yapıyordu ve hatta bazen öğretmen olmayan Louroujina’ya bisiklet üzerinde sırf ders vermek için ta Larnaka’dan gidiyordu.
1959 yılında yaşanan bir takım olaylar Larnaka’da Türkçe konuşan Kıbrıslılar ile Rumca konuşan Kıbrıslıların bölgelerini birbirinden ayırarak bölgeler arası geçişin engellenmesine sebebiyet vermiştir. Rumca konuşan Kıbrıslıların bölgesinde kalmış olan Amerikan Akademi’ye devam edemeyeceğinden nenem yaşadığı hayal kırıklığı ile okulunu terk etmiş ve Lefkoşa’da bir liseye kaydolarak hafta içi günlerini orada bir öğrenci yurdunda geçirerek Larnaka’ya sadece hafta sonları gidebilmişti. Kıbrıslıların büyük kaygılar içinde geçirdiği günler, aylar ve seneler geçmişti fakat nenem 1959 senesinden beri en iyi arkadaşından haber alamamıştı.
1968 yılında dedem ile evlenen nenem Lefkoşa’da kalmaya devam ediyor ve Larnaka’ya hala hafta sonları gidiyordu. Kısa bir süre sonra yaşanan oldubittiler, darbeler ve askeri müdahalelerin etkisiyle 1974 yılında Kıbrıs’ın bölünmesi ile Kıbrıslılar birbirinden ayrılarak farklı yönlere doğru zoraki yer değiştirmek durumunda kalmıştı. Nenem yer değiştirme sırasında hala Lefkoşa’daydı ve kısa bir süre sonra Larnaka’yı bir daha asla göremeyeceğinden neredeyse emindi. İnsanlar hatıralarını, eşyalarını ve çocukluklarını büyük acılarla geride bırakmıştı fakat hayat her şeye rağmen devam ediyordu.
Seneler geçmiş, yıllar yılları kovalamıştı. On yıl boyunca kimse ülkesinin öteki yarısına, eski hayatlarına ve duvarın ötesinde ne olduğu gerçeğine yabancılaşmış veya yabancılaştırılmıştı. Sözde diğer tarafa geçişin bir hayalden ibaret olarak kaldığı otuz yıldan sonra, 2003 yılının bir günü Kıbrıs’ta kapılar açılmış ve insanlar bir daha asla göremeyeceklerini sandıklarını yeniden görebilecek olmanın umudu ile geçiş kapılarına akın etmeye başlamıştı. Bir sene sonrasında Kıbrıs resmi olarak bir Avrupa Birliği ülkesi olmuştu.
Oysa ki dış müdahale ve acıların simgesi olan koca bir duvar, askeri üsler ve hayalet şehir hala yerli yerindeydi ve açılan geçiş noktaları bu gerçeği değiştiremezdi.
Nenem kapıların açıldığı bu sıralar benim bir ay öncesinde doğmuş olmam ile yeni bir torun sahibi olmuş, Lefkoşa’daki ikamet adresinde günlerini geçiriyordu. Kapıların açıldığı süreçte Larnaka’da bulunan eski evini ve dükkanlarını ziyaret ederek çocukluğunu anımsıyordu. Bunun yanında ailemizin sahip olduğu dükkanların şimdiki işletenleri ile tanışarak arkadaş olmuştu.
Açılan kapıların üzerinden geçen 14 senenin ardından 2017 yılının bir günü Larnaka’da üyesi olduğu bir derneğin toplantısına gitmek üzereydi Banayoda. Aynı toplantılar esnasında gördüğü Kıbrıslı Türklere nenemi sormaya başladı. Nenemi tanıyan biri çıkana kadar sormaya devam etti ve günün birinde nenemi tanıyan Kıbrıslı Türklerden biri Banayoda’ya nenemin ölmüş olduğunu söyledi. Banayoda bunun üzerine büyük bir hayal kırıklığı yaşadı. 1959 yılında nenemden ayrıldığı o gün onu son kez gördüğünü bilemezdi.
Fakat Banayoda yine de vazgeçmedi ve içinde imkansızı arayan umutlarla nenemi sormaya devam etti. Gittiği yeni toplantılarda gördüğü Kıbrıslı Türklere de nenemi sormaya devam etti. Ardından ona bu asılsız haberi verenlerin nenemin rahmetli kız kardeşinden bahsettiğini öğrendi. Nenemin yaşadığının sevinci ile bir mektup ulaştırmak üzere kısa bir not yazdı ve telefon numarasını ekledi. Mektup aylarca neneme ulaşmadı ve zaman yine hızla geçip gitti.
Ertesi yılın güneşli bir bahar gününde, ne olduğu ile alakalı en ufak bir fikri olmadığı bu mektup neneme ulaştı. Mektupta 59 sene görmediği arkadaşından haber almıştı. Çok karışık duygular içerisinde yazan numarayı aradı ve konuşmaya çalıştı. Bazı aksaklıkların konuşmalarını engellemesinin ardından Banayoda yerel telefon dairesini arayarak bu telefon numarasının nereye ait olduğunu sordu ve numaranın kuzeyin numarası olduğunu öğrendi. Banayoda heyecanla aynı numarayı tekrar aradı ve 59 sene sonra birbirinin sesini ilk kez duyan iki yakın arkadaş gözyaşlarına boğuldu.
1 Mayıs 2018 tarihinde Larnaka’da ilk kez buluşarak eski günlerini andılar ve 59 yıllık ayrılık başladığı şehirde son bulmuştu.
Bu hikaye ne olursa olsun hayattan asla umudumuzu kesmememiz gerektiğini gösteren bir hikayedir. Yarının bizden ne götüreceğini bilemediğimiz gibi bize ne getireceğini de asla bilemeyiz.
Barış aslında istediğimiz an gerçekleştirebileceğimiz bir şeydir çünkü barış bizi bölen sınırlar ile ilgili değildir. Kafamızdaki mental sınırları yıkabildiğimiz sürece Kıbrıs’taki fiziksel sınırları da yıkabiliriz. Önemli olan başkalarının bizi neye inandırmaya çalıştığı değil, önemli olan bizim neye inandığımızdır; çünkü inanmak var olmuş en güçlü silahtır.
Bu yazıyı Yunancaya çeviren arkadaşım Vasilis Frantzis’e, bana bu hikayeyi paylaşma şansını tanıyan Gazeddakıbrıs’a ve Türkçe konuşan Kıbrıslıların kalmakta olduğu sokakların adını değiştirmeyen (Piyale Paşa Sokak, Okullar Sokak gibi) Larnaka Belediyesi’ne en içten teşekkürlerimi sunarım.
Μία ιστορία πενήντα εννιάχρονου χωρισμού
Πολλές είναι οι μοναδικές ιστορίες που έχουν να διηγηθούν οι Κύπριοι εξαιτίας των παρεμβάσεων και της διαδικασίας διαίρεσης που βίωσε η Κύπρος στο σχετικά πρόσφατο παρελθόν.
Οι γονείς της μητέρας μου κατάγονταν από δύο χωριά κοντά στην Πόλη Χρυσοχούς της επαρχίας Πάφου. Ένα καλοκαιρινό απόγευμα, στη μέση του γάμου τους στην Τέρα, η σκιά των στρατιωτών ανάγκασε τη γιαγιά μου να βρεθεί αντιμέτωπη με μια λεγόμενη επιλογή ανάμεσα στο να πάει προς τον βορρά ή να παραμείνει εκεί όπου βρισκόταν. Η διαίρεση, η αναγκαστική μετακίνηση και η εγκατάλειψη των χωριών και της ζωής τους τους οδήγησαν σε μια δύσκολη πορεία. Για πολλά χρόνια αντιμετώπισαν μαζί πολλές διαφορετικές δυσκολίες. Στην αρχή πίστευαν πως θα επέστρεφαν, όμως η κατάσταση στην οποία βρέθηκαν μετατράπηκε πρώτα σε μήνες, έπειτα σε χρόνια και τελικά σε δεκαετίες. Παρ’ όλα αυτά, δεν εγκατέλειψαν ποτέ μπροστά στις δυσκολίες που τους έφερε η ζωή.
Ο παππούς μου από την πλευρά του πατέρα μου, του οποίου το όνομα φέρω και εγώ, καταγόταν από το Μιναρελίκιοϊ και ήταν απόφοιτος πολιτικών επιστημών με υψηλό επίπεδο γενικών γνώσεων. Όπως είναι γνωστό στην ιστορία της Τουρκοκυπριακής αεροπορίας, κατάφερε να κατασκευάσει μόνος του ένα μικρό αεροπλάνο και να πετάξει μια μικρή απόσταση με αυτό. Ταυτόχρονα, ακόμη και η συμμετοχή του στο σύστημα κατά την περίοδο της Αγγλοκρατίας στην Κύπρο του έδειξε ορισμένες σημαντικές πραγματικότητες. Υποστηρίζοντας την ιδέα μιας ανεξάρτητης Κύπρου, αρνήθηκε τη βρετανική υπηκοότητα και παραιτήθηκε οικειοθελώς από αυτήν, πραγματοποιώντας μια συμβολική πράξη που αντανακλούσε όσα είχε δει. Το όνομα και τα επιτεύγματά του έχουν αναφερθεί σε πολλά τοπικά βιβλία.
Όπως ανέφερα και προηγουμένως, υπάρχουν πολλές ιστορίες που γεννήθηκαν από την πολύπλοκη ιστορία της Κύπρου και αξίζουν να ακουστούν, ξεκινώντας από τη δική μου οικογένεια. Ωστόσο, η πιο αξιοσημείωτη από αυτές είναι η ιστορία της γιαγιάς μου, μια ιστορία φιλίας που αφορά έναν διαχωρισμό 59 ετών, και είναι αυτήν την ιστορία που θέλησα να μοιραστώ μαζί σας.
Η γιαγιά μου, Έραλ Σιαχόγλου, ήταν από τη Λάρνακα. Γεννήθηκε το 1944 στην πόλη της Λάρνακας ως η δεύτερη κόρη ενός δασκάλου και μιας νοικοκυράς. Έχασε τη μητέρα της όταν ακόμη φοιτούσε στο δημοτικό σχολείο. Μετά την ολοκλήρωση του δημοτικού σχολείου συνέχισε την εκπαίδευσή της στο American Academy of Larnaca. Κατά τη διάρκεια των σχολικών της χρόνων παρακολούθησε διάφορα μαθήματα στην αγγλική γλώσσα και έγινε μια επιτυχημένη μαθήτρια με πολλούς φίλους.
Η πιο στενή της φίλη ήταν μια Ελληνοκύπρια με το όνομα Παναγιώτα Αντωνίου. Η γιαγιά μου περνούσε πολύ χρόνο με την Παναγιώτα τόσο κατά τη διάρκεια των σχολικών ωρών όσο και εκτός σχολείου, συνεχίζοντας τη ζωή της στη Λάρνακα χωρίς να γνωρίζει τι θα έφερνε το κοντινό μέλλον.
Ο προπάππους μου ήταν καπετάνιος στη Λάρνακα και ο πατέρας της γιαγιάς μου εργαζόταν ως δάσκαλος. Μάλιστα, μερικές φορές ταξίδευε με ποδήλατο από τη Λάρνακα μέχρι τη Λουρουτζίνα μόνο και μόνο για να διδάξει σε μέρη όπου δεν υπήρχε δάσκαλος.
Το 1959 ορισμένα γεγονότα στη Λάρνακα οδήγησαν στον διαχωρισμό των Τουρκοκυπρίων και των Ελληνοκυπρίων σε διαφορετικές περιοχές, εμποδίζοντας τη μετακίνηση μεταξύ αυτών των περιοχών. Καθώς το American Academy of Larnaca βρισκόταν πλέον στον ελληνοκυπριακό τομέα της πόλης, η γιαγιά μου δεν μπορούσε να συνεχίσει πλέον την εκπαίδευσή της εκεί. Με μεγάλη απογοήτευση εγκατέλειψε το σχολείο και γράφτηκε σε ένα λύκειο στη Λευκωσία για να συνεχίσει τις σπουδές της. Εκεί έπρεπε να μένει σε μαθητικές εστίες κατά τη διάρκεια της εβδομάδας και μπορούσε να επιστρέφει στη Λάρνακα μόνο τα σαββατοκύριακα. Καθώς περνούσαν τα χρόνια και οι ανησυχίες των Κυπρίων αυξάνονταν, η γιαγιά μου δεν είχε λάβει καμία είδηση από την καλύτερή της φίλη από το 1959.
Το 1968 η γιαγιά μου παντρεύτηκε τον παππού μου και συνέχισε να ζει στη Λευκωσία, ενώ εξακολουθούσε να επισκέπτεται τη Λάρνακα τα σαββατοκύριακα. Λίγο αργότερα, τα γεγονότα, τα πραξικοπήματα και οι στρατιωτικές παρεμβάσεις οδήγησαν στη διαίρεση της Κύπρου το 1974. Οι Κύπριοι χωρίστηκαν μεταξύ τους και αναγκάστηκαν να μετακινηθούν προς διαφορετικές κατευθύνσεις. Κατά τη διάρκεια αυτής της μετακίνησης η γιαγιά μου βρισκόταν ακόμη στη Λευκωσία και ήταν σχεδόν βέβαιη ότι δεν θα έβλεπε ποτέ ξανά τη Λάρνακα. Οι άνθρωποι άφησαν πίσω τους τις αναμνήσεις, τα υπάρχοντα και την παιδική τους ηλικία με μεγάλο πόνο, όμως η ζωή συνέχισε παρά τις δυσκολίες.
Τα χρόνια πέρασαν και ο χρόνος προχώρησε. Για πολλές δεκαετίες κανείς δεν μπορούσε να περάσει στην άλλη πλευρά της χώρας του, να επιστρέψει στην παλιά του ζωή ή να δει τι υπήρχε πέρα από το τείχος. Μετά από τριάντα χρόνια, κατά τη διάρκεια των οποίων το πέρασμα προς την λεγόμενη άλλη πλευρά έμοιαζε σχεδόν αδύνατο, τα οδοφράγματα άνοιξαν το 2003. Οι άνθρωποι έσπευσαν στα σημεία διέλευσης με την ελπίδα να ξαναδούν όσα πίστευαν ότι δεν θα έβλεπαν ποτέ ξανά. Έναν χρόνο αργότερα η Κύπρος έγινε επίσημα μέλος της Ευρωπαϊκής Ένωσης. Ωστόσο, το μεγάλο τείχος, οι στρατιωτικές βάσεις, οι ξένοι στρατοί και μια πόλη φάντασμα παρέμειναν στη θέση τους ως σύμβολα της διαίρεσης.
Εκείνη την περίοδο η γιαγιά μου είχε μόλις γίνει γιαγιά, αφού εγώ είχα γεννηθεί έναν μήνα νωρίτερα, και περνούσε τις μέρες της στο σπίτι της στη Λευκωσία. Μετά το άνοιγμα των οδοφραγμάτων επισκέφθηκε το παλιό της σπίτι και τα καταστήματα της οικογένειάς μας στη Λάρνακα και θυμήθηκε τα παιδικά της χρόνια. Παράλληλα γνώρισε τους ανθρώπους που διαχειρίζονταν πλέον τα καταστήματα της οικογένειάς μας και ανέπτυξε φιλικές σχέσεις μαζί τους.
Δεκατέσσερα χρόνια μετά το άνοιγμα των οδοφραγμάτων, το 2017, η Παναγιώτα βρισκόταν σε μια συνάντηση ενός συλλόγου στη Λάρνακα όπου ήταν μέλος. Κατά τη διάρκεια αυτών των συναντήσεων άρχισε να ρωτά τους Τουρκοκύπριους που συναντούσε αν γνώριζαν τη γιαγιά μου. Συνέχισε να ρωτά μέχρι που κάποιος της είπε ότι η γιαγιά μου είχε πεθάνει. Η Παναγιώτα ένιωσε μεγάλη απογοήτευση, καθώς δεν γνώριζε ότι η ημέρα που χωρίστηκαν το 1959 θα ήταν η τελευταία φορά που θα έβλεπε την καλύτερή της φίλη.
Ωστόσο δεν εγκατέλειψε την προσπάθεια. Συνέχισε να ρωτά για τη γιαγιά μου με ελπίδα, ακόμη και για το αδύνατο. Αργότερα έμαθε ότι η πληροφορία που είχε λάβει αφορούσε στην πραγματικότητα την αδελφή της γιαγιάς μου. Με χαρά που έμαθε ότι η γιαγιά μου ήταν ζωντανή, έγραψε ένα σύντομο σημείωμα και πρόσθεσε τον αριθμό τηλεφώνου της ζητώντας να της παραδοθεί. Το γράμμα δεν έφτασε στη γιαγιά μου για αρκετούς μήνες και ο χρόνος συνέχισε να περνά.
Ένα ηλιόλουστο ανοιξιάτικο πρωινό του επόμενου έτους, το γράμμα έφτασε τελικά στη γιαγιά μου, η οποία δεν είχε ιδέα τι περιείχε. Όταν το άνοιξε, είδε ότι προερχόταν από τη φίλη της που δεν είχε δει για 59 χρόνια. Με ανάμεικτα συναισθήματα τηλεφώνησε στον αριθμό που αναγραφόταν στο σημείωμα. Στην αρχή υπήρξαν κάποιες δυσκολίες στην επικοινωνία. Η Παναγιώτα επικοινώνησε με την τοπική τηλεφωνική υπηρεσία για να μάθει από πού προερχόταν ο αριθμός και έμαθε ότι ανήκε στον βορρά. Με ενθουσιασμό κάλεσε ξανά τον ίδιο αριθμό. Μετά από 59 χρόνια, δύο στενές φίλες άκουσαν ξανά η μία τη φωνή της άλλης και ξέσπασαν σε δάκρυα.
Την 1η Μαΐου 2018 συναντήθηκαν ξανά στη Λάρνακα και θυμήθηκαν τις παλιές τους ημέρες. Ο διαχωρισμός των 59 ετών έφτασε τελικά στο τέλος του στην ίδια πόλη όπου είχε αρχίσει.
Η ιστορία αυτή μας υπενθυμίζει ότι δεν πρέπει ποτέ να χάνουμε την ελπίδα μας στη ζωή. Όπως δεν γνωρίζουμε τι μπορεί να μας πάρει το αύριο, έτσι δεν γνωρίζουμε ούτε τι μπορεί να μας φέρει.
Η ειρήνη είναι κάτι που μπορούμε να πετύχουμε οποιαδήποτε στιγμή, γιατί η ειρήνη δεν αφορά τα σύνορα που μας χωρίζουν. Όσο μπορούμε να ξεπεράσουμε τα νοητικά σύνορα στο μυαλό μας, μπορούμε επίσης να ξεπεράσουμε και τα φυσικά σύνορα στην Κύπρο. Αυτό που έχει σημασία δεν είναι τι προσπαθούν να μας κάνουν να πιστέψουμε οι άλλοι, αλλά αυτό που πιστεύουμε εμείς οι ίδιοι, γιατί η πίστη είναι το ισχυρότερο όπλο που υπάρχει.
Τέλος, θα ήθελα να ευχαριστήσω τον φίλο μου Βασίλη Φραντζή για τη μετάφραση αυτού του κειμένου στα Ελληνικά, την Gazeddakibris που μου έδωσε την ευκαιρία να μοιραστώ αυτή την ιστορία, καθώς και τον Δήμο Λάρνακας που δεν άλλαξε τα ονόματα των δρόμων όπου ζούσαν Τουρκοκύπριοι, όπως η Πιαλέ Πασά και η Οκουλάρ.
The Story of a 59-Year Separation
Cypriots have gone through interventions and a process of division in the recent past that has led to the emergence of many life stories unlike anything else.
My grandmother and grandfather on my mother’s side were from two villages located near the town of Poli in the Paphos region of Cyprus. One summer day, in the middle of their wedding in Tera, the shadow of soldiers forced my grandmother into a so called choice between going to the north or staying where she was. Division, displacement, leaving their villages and their lives behind followed. For many years they struggled together against different kinds of difficulties. At first they believed they would return, yet the situation they found themselves in first turned into months, then into years, and eventually into decades. Despite everything life placed in front of them, they never gave up.
My late grandfather on my father’s side, whose name I carry, was from Minareliköy and was a graduate of political science with a high level of general knowledge. As is known in the history of Turkish Cypriot aviation, he managed to build a small airplane by himself and flew it over a short distance. At the same time, being part of the system during the British period in Cyprus had already shown him certain realities. In support of an independent Cyprus, he rejected British citizenship and voluntarily renounced it as a symbolic act reflecting what he had witnessed. My grandfather’s name and achievements have been mentioned in many local books.
In short, I know many stories worth listening to that were born out of the complex history of Cyprus, beginning with my own family. However, the most remarkable one is my grandmother’s story, a friendship story that deals with a separation of fifty nine years, and I wanted to share this story with you.
My grandmother, Eral Şahoğlu, was from Larnaca. She was born in 1944 in the city of Larnaca as the second daughter of a teacher and a housewife. She lost her mother while she was still in primary school. After completing primary school she continued her education at the American Academy in Larnaca. During her years at school she studied various subjects in English and became a successful student with many friends. My grandmother’s closest friend was a Greek speaking Cypriot named Panayiota Antoniou. My grandmother spent a great deal of time with Panayiota both during school hours and outside of school, continuing her life in Larnaca completely unaware of what the near future would bring.
My great grandfather had been a captain in Larnaca, and my grandmother’s father worked as a teacher. In fact, he sometimes rode his bicycle all the way from Larnaca to Louroujina simply to teach lessons in places where there was no teacher.
In 1959, certain developments in Larnaca caused Turkish speaking Cypriots and Greek speaking Cypriots to be separated into different areas and prevented movement between these areas. Since the American Academy remained in the area where Greek speaking Cypriots lived, my grandmother could no longer continue her education there. With deep disappointment she left the school and enrolled in a high school in Nicosia. She spent weekdays there in a student dormitory and could only return to Larnaca on weekends. Days, months and years passed in great anxiety for Cypriots. Yet since 1959 my grandmother had received no news from her best friend.
In 1968 my grandmother married my grandfather and continued living in Nicosia while still visiting Larnaca on weekends. Soon afterwards a series of developments, coups and military interventions culminated in the division of Cyprus in 1974. Cypriots were separated from one another and forced to move in different directions. During the period of displacement my grandmother was still in Nicosia and she was almost certain that she would never see Larnaca again. People left behind their memories, their belongings and their childhood with deep sorrow. Yet life continued despite everything.
Years passed and time continued to move forward. For decades people could not cross to the other side of their own country, could not return to their former lives and could not see what existed beyond the wall. After thirty years in which crossing to the so called other side remained almost a dream, the crossing points in Cyprus were opened in 2003. People rushed to the checkpoints with the hope of seeing again what they believed they would never see. One year later Cyprus officially became a member of the European Union. Yet the large wall that symbolized intervention and suffering, along with military bases and a ghost city, still remained where they were. The opening of the crossing points could not change that reality.
Around the time when the crossings opened, my grandmother had just become a grandmother herself with my birth one month earlier. She was spending her days at her home in Nicosia. During this period she visited her old house and the shops that once belonged to our family in Larnaca and remembered her childhood. She also met the people who were now running the shops that had once belonged to our family and formed friendships with them.
Fourteen years after the crossings were opened, one day in 2017 Panayiota was going to attend a meeting of an association in Larnaca of which she was a member. During these meetings she began asking the Turkish speaking Cypriots she encountered whether they knew my grandmother. She continued asking until someone recognized the name. However one day someone told Panayiota that my grandmother had passed away. Panayiota experienced deep disappointment. When she had parted from my grandmother in 1959 she could never have known that it would be the last time she would see her.
Nevertheless Panayiota did not give up. She continued asking about my grandmother wherever she went with a hope that searched even for the impossible. Later she learned that the people who had given her this information had actually been referring to my grandmother’s late sister. With the joy of learning that my grandmother was alive she wrote a short note with her phone number and asked for it to be delivered. The letter did not reach my grandmother for months and time continued to pass.
On a sunny spring day the following year this letter finally reached my grandmother, who had no idea what it was about. When she read it she realized that it came from the friend she had not seen for fifty nine years. With very mixed emotions she called the number written in the note. At first some difficulties prevented them from speaking clearly. Afterwards Panayiota called the local telephone office and asked where the number belonged to. She learned that the number belonged to the north. With great excitement she dialed the same number again. After fifty nine years the two close friends heard each other’s voices for the first time and both of them burst into tears.
On the first of May 2018 they met for the first time in Larnaca and remembered their old days together. The separation of fifty nine years had finally ended in the very city where it had once begun.
This story shows that no matter what happens we should never lose hope in life. Just as we cannot know what tomorrow may take away from us, we also cannot know what it may bring.
Peace is actually something that we can achieve whenever we want, because peace is not about the borders that divide us. As long as we can break down the mental borders in our minds, we can also break down the physical borders in Cyprus. What matters is not what others try to make us believe. What matters is what we ourselves believe, because belief is the most powerful force that exists.
Finally I would like to express my sincere thanks to my friend Vasilis Frantzis for translating this text into Greek, to Gazeddakıbrıs for giving me the opportunity to share this story, and to the Municipality of Larnaca for not changing the names of the streets where Turkish speaking Cypriots once lived, such as Piyale Paşa Street and Okullar Street.
