By Alexia Saoulli
ON April 23, the Turkish Cypriot regime opened the Green Line allowing Greek Cypriots to return to the occupied north for the fist time in 29 years. After almost three decades, refugees could finally return home, walk along old, familiar roads and meet up with past acquaintances.
However, they could only return as visitors. This was not the liberation they had hoped for since the Turkish invasion in 1974. They were not returning home to reclaim their homes and lands. Many felt they were just foreigners in their own country.
Over recent weeks, hundreds of thousands of Greek Cypriots have crossed the divide to visit the occupied areas, young and old, rich and poor, refugee and non-refugee. Some said they were “just curious” and others wanted to see their homes again. None could remain unmoved. Many said it was like visiting a foreign country – so different was it to the government-controlled areas – and didn’t know whether to feel anger or joy. Others were so emotional they just cried until they could cry no more.
How does this new turn of events affect Greek Cypriots? How do they cope with their feelings of confusion and grief?
For psychologist Maria Georgiadou, the entire nation had suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) after the invasion.
“There have been no studies to show how the invasion affected people, refugees and non-refugees alike, but they definitely were,” she said.
Over the years there has been a transfer of collective conscious, she said.
“Stories and memories are transferred down the generations. It’s not just about learning about Kyrenia from photographs or documentaries on TV. It’s the memories that are told from one person to another and carried down from one generation to the next that keep the feelings alive,” she said.
But clinical psychologist Achilleas Koukkides said this preservation of fading memories had a damaging effect. “Because they never mourned for what they’d lost and always held on to hope for a solution, they maintained some sort of immaturity,” he said, dismissing the theory of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Georgiadou admitted that Greek Cypriots had never really cleared up how they felt about the invasion and the loss of their homes.
“By going to the north I believe once more we are acting without clearing up how we feel about it. I know someone who went over five times and now regrets it. Five times! That’s how long it took that person to realise he didn’t feel right about going,” she said.
“We have to work out how we feel and for a lot of years we haven’t done that. What does ‘my house’ mean to me? What does losing it and it being occupied by someone else mean to me? Some people discover their house has been demolished and they are devastated because it’s not the image they had in their head. Others seem happy someone is living in their home and yet they can’t go back to it themselves. It’s a confused situation.”
She said the whole situation could be deeply depressing. “You can go and look and leave. There is no solution. Go and see what? It’s not your home or land any more. It’s like showing a starving person a whole array of food. You let him touch it, smell it and taste it, but before he eats it, you snatch it away. Where’s the liberation in that? The catharsis? This affects people deeply.”
Koukkides, however, felt this was an opportunity to lay old ghosts to rest. “It’s like seeing a dead body. You come to accept that it’s gone if you actually see it with your own eyes,” he said. “Crying and feeling very upset at going over to the occupied areas are normal reactions. It’s the best way to mourn.”
He flet the development was extremely positive: “One, people will be able to let go of their fantasies; two, they can mourn, and three, they can maybe see the Turkish Cypriots for the human beings that they are and review their feelings of victimisation,” he said.
For all these years, Greek Cypriots had felt like the victims with the Turkish Cypriots as aggressors, he said. “They became victims. And victims are normally very childish and dependent, giving superficial details about their relationships with other people or objects.”
In fact, it was this immaturity that had emerged over recent weeks, he said.
“The only negative aspect of this all is that Greek Cypriots have shown they are as immature as always. From the second day they were crossing over to buy cheaper goods, to have cheaper sex and to gamble at the casinos.”
But Koukkides hoped Greek Cypriots would maybe now realise that Turkish Cypriots could feel, smile and touch the same way they could and that they would even consider the bad things they had done in the past.
Individual refugees who’ve gone over in recent weeks echoed the confusion.
Maria Polydorou was only 11 in 1974. The experience of seeing her home again was beyond words.
“It felt like a dream. I kept having to pinch myself to make sure it was real,” Polydorou said.
Like many, she had wondered about whether or not she should cross the Green Line, but her emotions took the decision for her.
“I really wanted to go. The desire was so great that I decided they were worth any consequences.” She ended up spending a lot of the day crying, overwhelmed by her pent up emotions.
“I went back once more and felt awful having to leave at midnight. I don’t think I’ll go back again soon. What for?”
Did she feel some sort of release from the experience?
“I haven’t got over my lost home or accepted it. I want to go back there and live, whether it’s under Turkish Cypriot or Greek Cypriot rule. I won’t give them my home. I just won’t give it up,” she said vehemently.
Eleni Michael, on the other hand, did not cry as much, despite leaving Kythrea when she was 17.
“You’re obviously moved when you see your home, but I didn’t cry much. It actually felt worse the second time I went. The first time, you knock on the door of your home you don’t know what to expect. The second time, however, you feel like an outsider, a stranger, and that feels bad.”
Eleni said she had felt angry when she heard the current occupants of her home referring to “their title deeds” and when they spoke of building on her mother’s land.
“It’s the curiosity that drove me back. I went on the second day the Green Line opened. I didn’t give much thought as to how I’d be affected, but I’ve decided now, after going back three times, that I’m not going there again for quite a while. What for? To knock on the door and say what? I have my house here now and feel it’s mine,” she said.
Her mother, Androulla, however, feels differently. She wants to return to Kythrea and spend the rest of her days there now that she’s been back.
“All my old things were still in my home. It felt like the current occupants are only there temporarily and that it’s waiting for me to go home,” Androulla said.
Former Omorfita resident George Andreou was only four when he was driven out of his home.
“Going back was weird. Everything’s a wreck and it felt really gloomy.
“I feel very angry. For him Denktash it’s a power game to show he has authority over us,” he said.
“It feels like the Turkish Cypriots want the best of both worlds. They’ve destroyed our churches and graveyards and only maintained the ones they can make a profit from.”
But for 80-year-old Katina Pavlou it was a blessing to be able to return home.
“I never thought I’d see my home again. I cried all day, but I think it was relief. Now I know I can die peacefully knowing that my home is still there and that one day
my grandchildren might be able to go back,” she said.
“I believe we can all live together again. We did in the past, so why not now. Most of my old friends
are no longer alive, but I met up with their children and we talked and laughed like nothing had changed. In time, maybe it will be that way for real.”
The Cyprus Mail is the only English-language daily newspaper published in Cyprus. It was established in 1945 and today, with its popular and widely-read website, the Cyprus Mail is among the most trusted news sites in Cyprus. The newspaper is not affiliated with any political parties and has always striven to maintain its independence. Over the past 70-plus years, the Cyprus Mail, with a small dedicated team, has covered momentous events in Cyprus’ modern history, chronicling the last gasps of British colonial rule, Cyprus’ truncated independence, the coup and Turkish invasion, and the decades of negotiations to stitch the divided island back together, plus a myriad of scandals, murders, and human interests stories that capture the island and its -people. Observers describe it as politically conservative.
