Herþey Barýþ Ýçin, 22 Mayýs 2003

Hüseyin Irkad

 

Memories Don't Die

It was April. The early morning breeze was cool which made me feel fresh . I could hear the bustle of the market. It was just a few metres away from the street I lived. For years practically every Turkish Cypriot on Mutallos, so called by Greek Cypriots of Ktima, was banned to go and buy vegetables and fruit from the market. It was considered to be against the policy of the rulers of the Turkish Cypriot Community.

Time had passed very quickly. Turkish invasion covered the Northern Region of the island and came to be referred as The North . Turkish Cypriots living in Paphos were confined into the narrow zone of Mutallos. Their movement was very closely followed.

Practically every one dreamt to be taken to the North or find means to be smuggled there, either by paying high fees to lorries or even walk for miles over hills if a reliable person would lead them..

My wife and I also wished to do so .Our five sons were losing valuable time in their education.We did not have the required amount of money to buy our freedom. My thoughts mingled with the voice of peddlars from the market place..

In no time we got accustomed to seeing the police patrolling the streets and to Greek Cypriots going around .They could not dare do so before Muttalos became a place of curiosity and many just came to revive old acquaintances Both Turkish and Greek Cypriots would sit side by side and felt at home. It was early in the morning, and in the small ground just opposite my house .my sons and children from nearby houses were playing football.. Out of nowhere a boy, seemingly a Greek Cypriot boy, appeared and getting off his bicycle started watching the boys playing .

“Do you want to join them?” I said

“Yes.”said he, but continuing he did not hesitate to express his worry,”but will they let me join them?”

“Is there a reason they should object to your playing with them?

“I am Greek! Don’t they hate us?

“I would not think so ,” I said

“Would you like me to ask them?”

“But I don’t know Turkish!” still hesitating to accept my suggestion.

I called my son, Hamza, who appeared at the same age as the Greek Cypriot boy.

“What is your name son?” I asked.

“Fotis,. My name is Fotis,” he said.

When Hamza came, I asked if they would allow Fotis to play with them . Hamza willingly accepted..

Fotis put his bike beside my house and he was soon running in the ground with the others.

I was surprised how quickly they solved the language problem. Fotis spoke Greek and the others Turkish. Whenever they failed to express themselves they rushed to my wife. Her Greek was good and through her the boys easily got over any misunderstanding..

Soon they were thirsty and hungry. My wife had made a cake and offered a piece to Fotis as well.

“Where is your house?” asked my wife.

“It is on the other of the town.”

My wife asked again, “Well it has been very nice to visit us.Did you have something else on your mind?

Fotis became red all over and said,” I am making a collection of different kinds of bullets used by the soldiers. And I thought I would find some of those used by your soldiers here in Mutallos ”

My sons were also collecting these bullets.They removed the seeds of the bullets and making a hole through , they would make a garland to carry round their neck.

Fotis found what he was seeking and I thought he would not come again,. but the next day he was in our quarter again. The boys seemed happy to be with him and in no time they were exchanging Greek and Turkish words.

Neighbours used to come at our house and after having their coffee my wife offered , they would ask my wife to read their fortune from what remained of the coffee in the cup. I noticed that Fotis followed closely the reaction of the people, sometimes they looked happy and sometimes remorseful for not getting the answer of their wish.

The next day Fotis came with a cup wrapped in a news paper. The coffee seemingly was freshly drunk with the coffee residue still wet at the bottom of the cup. Fotis apparently had something in his mind.

“I know a lady from Rizo Karpazos. She is a refugee. She sells cigarettes somewhere in the town. I told her that you were reading the fortune from the coffee cup. She was very delighted and asked me to bring this cup from which she had coffee and tell her fortune too . If you accept I have brought a piece of paper to write down all you are going to say and take it to her.” “My wife took the cup , looked into it for some time and she slowly began to speak.

“This lady is worrying about a person whose name begins with M .. Mirianthi Maria, Maroulla whatever name begins with M. The person is not a man. It is a lady. She is worried about this lady. Soon I think she will hear from her. It may be a day, a week or a month. She will receive news from her.” Fotis wrote the things my wife said and quickly rode away on his bike. The next day we had about ten ladies at our house with Fotis as their guide .

The lady in front said,”It was my fortune that you read yesterday. Do you know what happened

“What ?” asked my wife

“Well, I have a sister in Greece and for more than a year I have not heard any news from her. But yesterday evening the postman brought a letter from her.”

“What a coincidence” said my wife.

“No no!”objected the lady.

“ You clearly saw the future in the coffee cup.”

“ I came to thank you and if you accept I have brought a box of cigarettes to you

My wife became happy and she sensed that the other ladies accompanying her came to hear their fortunes too.They had brought their coffee . In no time my wife was just telling the fortunes of the other ladies . This continued up to the day we were transported to the North.

The next day Fotis asked my wife if she would allow my sons and the other two boys to come with him to his house

“Why not.! I believe you wýll not have a quarrel there.”

“We are friends,” said Fotis “and friends do not fight..”

It was about noon when thet returned.

“Did you have a nice day ?” I asked. “Did your mother like you to bring your Turkish friends home ?” asked my wife

Fotis said,” when I told my mother that they were my Turkish Cypriot friends,

my mother asked me to give them spades and rakes to dig the garden I refused her demand and said, “ Is it polite to make my friends work?”. Her mother said,”why not they are our prisoners. And prisoners are obliged to do what we ask them.”

Fotis said that he objected to this and asked my wife,”I am sorry for my mother’s behaviour. I think she acted like this because she is not as literate like you.”

My wife consoled him”Fotis, there are many people like this. Your mother I believe is a good mother and was under the impression of what she heard from her friends. I hope one day she will realize her mistake.”..

Time had passed and by August news was around that all Turkish Cypriots would move to the North.

We had a pair of love birds in a cage.

We offered them to Fotis.

“We opened the door of the cage but they refused to fly away. They have become accustomed of being prisoners in a cage.” I explained to him Fotis gladly accepted to have them

Then the day came for us to leave.

Fotis spent almost all the day with us helping us to put the things we would take with us into sacks.Our most precous belongings were books and wanted to carry them to our probable house in the North..

On the day we were leaving , Fotis was there.He had tears in his eyes.We hugged him and promised that we would not forget him at all.

He rode his bike just in the rear of the bus we were on.

We would not forget how he waved his hand goodbye to us

Soon years rolled by. My son Ulus became a teacher and started taking part in by-communal activities.

One of the first projects they started was publishing a magazine in Greek, Turkish and English. It became very popular.

My son and I wrote about Fotis.We did not know where he was.but his memory was very alive in our minds.

Those who read the story, tried to find out where he was living

It was Sotos Syzinos, a friend of my son Ulus, who followed his track. He found out that he had gone to the States and was living there

One day he brought the good news to us.

Fotis was in Cyprus and had talked to him He arranged to bring us together at Pyla..

Unfortunately on that day I was very sick and could not go and see him My wife and my son Ulus were in Pyla . It was a moving meeting. Hugging and kissing each other..Hamza, my third son, who was very close to him was not in Cyprus any more. He had emigrated to London . Fotis got his address and phone number. I later learnt from Hamza that he actually called him and invited him to visit him in the States. My wife had bought him a present . Although nothing was allowed to be taken from the North to the South he gladly accepted my wife’s present.

Years again have gone by. Now that there are no more restrictions to go either to the North or to the South we very much wish to meet Fotis once more. He is still so fresh in our memories.

Now that once more we can refer to the island as our common home, it would give me and my family a great pleasure and happiness to see Fotis once again.

copyleft (c) 2001-03 hamamboculeri.org