To mark the historic papal visit to Cyprus next month, the Sunday Mail takes a weekly look at institutions that are the touchstones of the enduring Roman Catholic presence here
THE sun shines brightly on the colourful garden courtyard as the words of Edith Piaf’s ‘La Vie en Rose’ drift on the breeze from somewhere inside.
Following the sound to a light and airy sitting room, I’m greeted by a group of elderly ladies singing away to their favourite tunes, some of them raising their hands high in the air and swaying from side to side in time to the music.
The women are all residents of the Roman Catholic Terra Santa Rest Home in the heart of Larnaca, and I’ve arrived in the middle of one of their weekly social gatherings.
The home is run by a group of five nuns of varying nationalities and was erected to care for the elderly back in 1972. The site the home sits on, however, has a far longer history, with the adjacent Catholic Church dating back to when the Franciscans first settled in Larnaca in 1593.
The imposing monument of Franciscan Fraternity dedicated to ‘The Virgin Mary of the Graces’ that now stands tall on this piece of land is in fact the third church built to serve the Catholic community down the centuries. Very little is known about the first, while the second – built in 1724 – was demolished to make way for the present church which was finally completed and blessed in December 1848 by Father Bernardino Trionfetti, the Principal Abbot of Terra Santa.
The church is built in the shape of the Latin cross and has three narthexes, dome and colonnade built in its face. The architect of the church, the Franciscan Brother Serafino Da Roccascelima, designed the church inspired by the ecclesiastical architectural art of southern Italy, particularly that of the 17th and 18th centuries. Today, two priests conduct daily mass while plenty of foreign visitors pop in to have a glimpse at the charming interior.
As Sister Francoise, a youthful-looking 71-year-old, shows me around the grounds and takes me back into the home that she is in charge of running, she is keen to point out that although the institution may be Catholic, it shows no prejudice towards any creed or colour.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, and there is no discrimination against any religion or nationality. Our door is open to everyone.” Although a fee is charged for residents, it is significantly lower than that usually asked for in most local homes as the nuns simply try to cover the basic costs.
With the 38 private en suite rooms now currently full, the nuns have a busy task when it comes to the care of residents. “We do everything out of love and respect,” explains the Sister. “And the extra staff we have imitate us and are very respectful towards everyone here. For me, it’s the overwhelming sense of calm that makes this place so special.”
We soon stumble upon a room where a group of ladies sip on their coffee. “This is a daily ritual for us,” says 83-year-old Stella Philipou who appears at least ten years younger than her real age, aided perhaps by her carefully pencilled-in eyebrows and the intricate and vibrant blouse that brings colour to her face.
Her gaze is firmly fixed on a television chat show as she waits to hear the latest celebrity news, but she can still talk about her friends with the passion of a teenager. “The four of us are very close and we love spending our morning together. We talk and talk. And this place is so clean and everything is done for us. What more could I ask for?”
While socialising is encouraged, some ladies prefer to spend time alone doing what they love most. I meet 87-year-old Renee Aall in her room surrounded by countless piles of books stacked up in every nook and cranny.
“I do love to read,” she says. “Mind you, there’s too much bad language in some of them for me. I like good old family books, my favourite is Catherine Cookson.”
When I point towards her little television she shrugs dismissively. “Oh no, too much rubbish on that! I like the radio,” she explains while reaching towards the dial of her old-fashioned set.
“I like it here, I’m well looked after and content. I’ve been here 13 years after all, ever since my husband died. But look, he made me that lovely chest that you see over there by the window.”
Back in the hall, the rest of the ladies residing in the home are still singing away. In between one of the song recitals I’m introduced to the 100-year-old Lina Christos.
I would have never imagined she was the oldest in the group. Although rather frail with poor hearing, her skin still retains a brilliant glow and her eyes a feisty sparkle. When asked what her big secret is, her reply is stern and no nonsense. She doesn’t have one, she said in a tone suggesting it would be almost ludicrous to think that she did.
“Oh, but I don’t drink and I don’t smoke, and I always had to work hard. Do you think that makes you live longer?” she ponders adjusting her turquoise cardigan offset by a pretty pink blouse. “I used to be a dressmaker!” she exclaims leaning towards me. “And a wonderful painter,” adds one of the carers.
The group are soon engrossed in ‘Soul of my Saviour’ despite the fact that not everyone knows the words of the hymn.
One Cypriot lady nudges the other sitting beside her and whispers, “do you know this song?” The reply is a firm “no” followed by a childlike giggle as they both attempt to sing along as if it’s something they’ve been doing all their lives, glancing over at each other from time to time as they try to mouth the song’s English words.
Last up is ‘Que Sera Sera’. They all nod and raise their voices in resolute agreement that “whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours to see…”
