Tackling illegal immigration is a huge priority for the EU and Cyprus is one of those countries on the frontline.
Global economic disparity has made Europe a magnet for migrants from Asia, Africa and the Middle East. Many risk their lives, paying thousands of dollars, to get to Europe’s golden shores.
While the EU welcomes legal migration to fill the gap created by its ageing population, member states, particularly in the south, are keen to plug the hole on illegal immigration.
One of the most popular entry points to the EU-bloc is Cyprus. The legal limbo in the north has made it a haven for human smugglers who channel a steady stream of illegal immigrants across the ceasefire line on a near daily basis.
The Interior Minister has said more than 95 per cent of illegal immigrants enter the government-controlled areas through the north. The ferry link between Syria and occupied Famagusta is one route to the north but distances between Cyprus and its neighbours are so small, many immigrants simply make it in fishing boats. And for those who have a choice, a short plane ride from Turkey to Ercan (Tympou) airport is another easy option.
The Republic has had a hard time trying to stem the flow, with the politics of division further muddying its efforts. For every 30 illegals arrested and deported, another 30 filter through the buffer zone. There is a visible trend of repeat offenders who slip back in the dark of night, willing to work here until caught again a second or third time. The government doesn’t wish to give the impression of a border and so shies away from creating a tight security wall between north and south. At the same time, it wants to avoid opening its doors to the thousands fleeing poverty and conflict in the surrounding areas.
An important issue for the government is the effective monitoring of those areas not under its control. However, Greek Cypriot and Turkish Cypriot/Turkish collaboration is minimal, if non-existent, while the political will in the north to stop illegals crossing the buffer zone remains dubious. The other relevant area not under government control is the British Sovereign Base Area (SBA) of Dhekelia.
Lying close to Famagusta on the eastern edge of the island’s buffer zone, Dhekelia is a preferred crossing point for smugglers transporting illegal immigrants from north to south. To complicate matters, two villages within SBA Dhekelia remain under the control of the Republic, Xylotimbou and Ormidhia.
The Sunday Mail sent one of its reporters to Dhekelia on a night mission to see how the SBA police, in collaboration with the British military and Cypriot police, was handling the seemingly porous transit point, favoured by smugglers and illegal immigrants.
The late night hunt for illegals
By Stefanos Evripidou
When the idea to accompany the SBA police on an ‘immigrant run’ was first mooted, I called Chief Inspector Terry Eleftheriou to see if we could get the thumbs up. He was happy to oblige, but warned: “You do realise this will not take place during working hours?”
Three days later at a half past eleven, while tucked in bed reading a book on Byzantine churches by the erudite William Dalrymple, I got a call from SBA Duty Sergeant Costas Constantinou: “The operation is in progress.”
An hour later I was at Dhekelia military base. The teenage soldier on guard duty wrongly directed me towards Voroklini police. By 1am, thanks to a more knowledgeable kiosk owner, I arrived at SBA Dhekelia police station.
Sgt Constantinou had received intelligence on two groups of illegal immigrants that night: six from Uzbekistan and 34 Iraqis who had arrived by boat at Boghazi in the north. The general trend was for local smugglers in the north, or “facilitators”, to take immigrants by car to a spot between occupied Achna and Pergamos, and then either walk with them or point them in the direction of Dhekelia. “They just tell them to follow the lights,” said Constantinou. They are then picked up by a facilitator on the other side of the dividing line who will drive them to various points across the island. Some never make it to a facilitator and end up walking aimlessly for hours or days, looking for food and water.
As Duty Sergeant that night, Constantinou was in charge of coordinating the whole operation. He had a number of units already “in the field” waiting to intercept the illegals, including SBA police and one Armed Response Vehicle (ARV) for protection, as “sometimes the driver doesn’t want to stop”.
SBA Customs were also on the look out while a British Army patrol unit with one driver and four soldiers was drafted in for back up. “For the safety of my officers, in case there are any boundary issues,” explained Constantinou, referring to the sensitive nature of buffer zones.
Apart from coordinating his own units, Constantinou also worked in close cooperation with Cypriot police, or in SBA lingo: “Cypol”. Judging from the numerous calls being made on wireless receivers and mobile phones in the control room, it soon became apparent that the level of cooperation between SBA police and Cypol was very high.
Both had moving units standing ready to intercept the suspects, while Cypol was particularly resourceful on the intelligence front. Both sets of police also had men working together “on the ground”, literally, lying flat in dark fields where they suspected the illegals would walk through.
Closing the net on illegal immigrants is very much a waiting game. “You never know how or when they will come. We got information for 10pm, now it’s 1.15am and we’re still waiting,” said Constantinou. “They are also very unpredictable. You don’t know how they will react, especially the facilitators, this is their bread,” he added.
At this point, sitting with pad and pen at the ready in a long-sleeved shirt, trekking pants and army boots, I asked what time I was going to join the operation.
“For your safety, I’m not going to take you until the arrests have been made.”
I didn’t have to wait long. Five minutes later, the call came in. “Let’s go. They’re making the arrest.”
We drove less than a kilometre from the station, over the Xylotimbou bridge, when I saw two men in dark clothes being handcuffed. Both SBA police and Cypol were present, some uniformed, some not. In an agreement between the UK and the Republic, all illegal immigrants detained in the SBA are handed over to the government for processing.
The two men were taken to the rather cramped quarters of Cypol’s Xylotimbou police station, also less than a kilometre away but on the opposite side of the bridge.
I walked into the station. Trying to look inconspicuous in a tiny room full of police officers and illegal immigrants is not the easiest thing to do. Keeping pad and paper firmly sealed in bag, I tried to blend in while focusing my ears on the conversation being had behind closed doors.
The Uzbekis turned out to be Iranian. One of them initially didn’t speak Greek, but later let on that he understood the language, having lived here two years ago as an asylum seeker. Following his rejected application and deportation, he had decided to return; a common theme among illegal immigrants.
The two had arrived from Turkey at Ercan airport. They were dropped off by car near Achna, before walking three hours down to the SBA. “They were lucky,” said Constantinou, “Some end up walking for a day. They get really thirsty and try to enter houses.”
While keeping up the pretence of being your everyday plain-clothed cop, the duty officer at Xylotimbou station turned to me and asked: “Are you a colleague?”
I mumbled a response, which failed to appease his curiosity. After more baiting, I found myself whispering, “No, I’m a journalist.”
At that point, Constantinou walked in. There were reports that more immigrants were out there hiding. The resources still “on the ground” had heard ruffles in the fields they were lying in. The decision was taken to keep the operation going for another hour to see if more could be found.
Asked if there was a chance the remainder had returned across the buffer zone, Constantinou replied: “They never run back the way they came. This is where their hope is. Some hide in chicken cages, on the floor, or in dry bushes. When the sun comes up we sometimes find them sitting up olive trees or walking through the fields.”
Constantinou liaised with his Cypol counterpart. Minutes later four units sped off to the area. On arrival, headlights were used to search empty farming fields, dry shrubs and dense olive groves. The moon was hiding along with the suspected immigrants, and the pitch black night gave credence to the “needle in a haystack” theory.
Men with torches combed the area while the tops of trees were checked but nothing was found. The “on the ground” members of Cypol and SBA police patted down their trousers to get rid of the dirt they had collected. “We heard a lot of rustling but couldn’t see a thing in front of us,” said one.
After some time, the operation was called off and the units told to stand down. Back at the station, Constantinou let out a sigh as he looked down at his dusty shoes. If any of those 34 Iraqis turned up before 7am, he would be the one to mobilise all resources available. In the meantime, he had a morning briefing to prepare for.
As for the two Iranians, Cypol would have woken the judge on call and secured their arrest warrants, before taking them to Larnaca to await deportation (for the second time in one case).
The operation might have only come up with two arrests, but the level of cooperation between the various units and the intelligence available was impressive. However, if you’re going to look for people across a vast landscape of darkness, then investing in heavy duty searchlights and infra-red capabilities seems unavoidable.
Leaving the station at 4am, a sign on the wall informed me that the terrorist threat was “low”. Good, I thought. I’d had enough adrenalin for one night and besides, I was determined to struggle through a few more pages on Byzantine art before the sun came up.
