Walking into the house where 86-year-old Yiorgos Filippou lives is a shocking experience.
With huge cracks in its walls, whole sections of them without plaster, and its ancient – potentially lethal – electrical wiring, the house should have been condemned years ago. No one should be living there, most certainly not a frail, elderly man.
Filippou is a refugee, who lost his property in the north, yet has been struggling for decades to be granted refugee status by the government, so he can receive state benefits – including housing – provided to refugees. For years, the government had refused to do so, because Filippou was in the UK at the time of the Turkish invasion. Finally, last year, the elderly man was told he had been recognised as a refugee. Six months later Filippou received a letter from the Department of Refugee Welfare of the Interior Ministry, saying he was now on the waiting list for refugee housing and that he was number 115. The man, however, fears that he will not live to see the day when his turn comes.
“I am 86-years-old. I will die before my turn comes for housing. This is worse than them telling me ‘no’,” Filippou told the Sunday Mail.
Over the past 14 years, the man has been living in the run down house he rents, under conditions that endanger his health and safety. My visit to the house at Filippou Makedona Street in the Old Town of Limassol quickly revealed he is not the only one. Many elderly people live on that street, in unacceptable living conditions. When Filippou’s elderly neighbours saw me arrive at the house, many of them ran outside hoping I was a Welfare Services officer who had come visiting them.
Filippou’s house is practically falling apart, in addition to the huge cracks in the walls and ceilings, there are decayed metal pipes and general disarray. The man’s lung condition has been exacerbated by breathing dust particles in the house.
“I was a carpenter and perhaps it was initially caused by the dust I was breathing when I was cutting wood. My condition has become worse because of living in this house. The walls are collapsing and I keep breathing dirt particles. I want to live in a clean environment, but I cannot afford to,” Filippou said.
“In the mornings when I wake up I need two hours just to start breathing properly. My sinus is congested and I cough endlessly. However this is all I can afford now because the rent is low. I cannot afford the rent cost for a proper, clean flat.”
It is also questionable whether the house would withstand even the mildest of earthquakes. “I am also worried about my safety here. If there is an earthquake, this house will definitely fall down. Also when it rains in the winter I get drenched. To prevent water from coming in from the roof, they have put old mattresses and nylon on the roof. I am worried.”
Since 1986 when Filippou returned to Cyprus from the UK, he had been trying to get refugee status and housing aid by the state. “I have been asking the state to put me in refugee housing in Nicosia, where my daughter lives. Here in Limassol I have no-one, no friends, no family. My daughter comes here from Nicosia to see me once every two to three weeks. If I lived in Nicosia she would be able to come and see me more often.”
The government, however, refused to grant a refugee ID card to Filippou on the grounds that when the Turkish invasion took place he was living in the UK. The state also refused to accept that the only reason he had been working in the UK was to save money and fix his house in the village of Angastina so that he could return there with his family.
“I had to go to the UK because the business I run in Cyprus went under, because I used to give out things for free. During the time I was in the UK I would return to Cyprus to maintain my property in Angastina and would stay for a year each time. I used to come back to fix the house, preparing it for when I would return with my family for good. I extended the house, built more rooms and fixed it up. Then, the invasion happened and I lost it,” he said.
His house is in the area fenced in by the Turkish army, which uses for military purposes. “My relatives went to Angastina recently to see the house, but they could only see it from a distance because it is fenced off and used by the army,” he said.
“Everything in Cyprus is done in corrupt ways. Even to get refugee housing you need to know people, have the connections. If you do, you can get housing for you, your children, everyone. I don’t know anyone so I have to suffer,” he said.
The Department of Refugee Welfare could not be reached for comment.
