Kings of our little fiefdoms

A SHOE factory emitting poisonous fumes is situated in the middle of a classy residential suburb of Nicosia. Which came first: the factory or the classy houses?
In the so-called ‘smart’ suburb of Ayios Andreas, luxury residences sit beside government office blocks. Retailers, kindergartens, private schools, embassies, building sites and priceless wasteland make up the messy whole, suggesting town planners don’t give two hoots as to what goes where. Traffic races along narrow and parked-up side roads in an effort to avoid main road holdups. Pavements are sporadic and those that exist are mostly parked upon or overhung by blossoming garden greenery; lovely at this time of the year and yet another nightmare for pedestrians.
Nicosia is a fine example of a city lacking any overall plan. Underfunded and ill-equipped local councils are powerless to deal with a plethora of mismanaged roads, building sites, broken pavements and water mains, inadequate mains sewerage and public transport, and uncared for green areas.
How much will it cost to bring our cities, suburbs and villages in line with 21st century standards? Do we possess the expertise or determination even if the money was available? Ask someone who cares.
Interior Minister Neoclis Sylikiotis evidently seems to and hopes to reorganise local councils and cede them greater powers. He believes the process will take about ten years. Having studied for his engineering degree in Germany, he is familiar with efficient bureaucracy, much higher levels of taxation than we pay here and the enforcement of laws and bylaws.
Do you know your local mukhtar?
Six years ago, when I lived in the village of Ayios Yiannis tis Maloundas, I met the mukhtar, Mr Mitas twice – a charming pensioner, who had spent his working life as a messenger for the Water Board. Our first encounter was to agree the water meter reading and the second was when I sold the house and introduced him to the new owners.
What passed for the ‘town hall’ was a storeroom accessed via a rickety outside staircase – a pokey room with woodworm floor. Apart from several concrete palaces dotted about outlying fields, most of the village homes were dilapidated and lacking in mod cons. Many similar villages still exist in Cyprus, hundreds perhaps.
Here in Nicosia, I visit the mayor of Ayios Dhometios whenever I need any government form countersigned, a signature or rubber stamp and I hand over several euros without any question. It’s understandable, since he runs an extremely busy dry cleaning business and barely has time to breathe.
I also spent many years living in a French village with just 402 souls. The town hall was a building of pride, immaculately kept and run by a part-time secretary. The mayor, a retired farmer, was supported by an adjoint (assistant) and ten village councillors, mostly farmers.
The council’s duties comprised administrating the commune, local finances, legal advice and documentation, the environment and sustainable development, local taxes (communal and territorial), urbanism, housing and organising social, educational, sporting and cultural events.
Town halls and mayors are an essential part of French culture and little of consequence occurs in any community without mayoral knowledge or consent. It wasn’t so much ‘les reseignements generaux’ (government informants) who snitched whenever I failed to observe any of the many stringent bylaws, but my neighbours; laws and bylaws were inviolable, even though I was a director of the cantonal football club, a member of several council committees, a card playing café regular and best friends with the mayor and councillors.
Agreed, local taxes levied on land and buildings, roads and rubbish collection, etc., were five times what I pay here, but a council machine needs oiling properly or little gets done properly.
Here we seem to subscribe to the ‘I’m alright, Jack’ philosophy and ignore the laws, so few are enforced anyway. And what a huge job creation scheme it would be if they were.
I know, stop dreaming, we are in Cyprus… The mayor of Strovolos can’t even get cars off pavements never mind the police booking those parked on double yellow lines.
I do not expect to see a noticeable improvement in our quality of life after devolution, simply an increase in local taxes. Our laissez faire attitude in both local and central government means you, the citizen, can do what you want, where you want and how you want; a recipe for chaos…
It seems that we don’t possess the mindset to enforce or comply with laws serving the interests of the whole. The only disciplines we do observe belong inside a church, suggesting that maybe we should let our priests run local councils, like they did for centuries. They already possess the tax free capital, spare time, learning and innumerable new churches, which could easily double as immaculate town halls.