A Divided Backyard

In a country with a rich history spanning over 8000 years, Cyprus overflows with cultural depth and beauty from every corner of her Aphrodite striken shores. After the invasion of Turkey in 1974, Cyprus became a country of division and tension. The northern half of the island transformed into an occupied territory (by the invading Turks), while the south established itself as the official Republic of Cyprus. Many people were displaced, blocked from their side of the island, and repressed because of these hostile conditions. This chaotic political movement launched an issue that is now deeply ingrained and evident in the people of this beautiful island. The concept that Cyprus is in fact a small island (spanning only 3572 miles), that is divided in half, tends to spark curiosity in a foreigner to Cypriot culture and politics. The division line has only been open for people to pass through at free will since 2004. The question of "who is right?" nags the mind when traveling between the two sides.

This political turmoil was one of the first things I noticed when landing on Cyprus. It is almost like a suppressed secret that everyone is dying to divulge. Since I am going to school and living in Nicosia for the next month (the only divided capital left in the world), one tends to pick up on these underlying tensions. My apartment is located on a more quite, residential, and Greek side of Nicosia. The morning drives the locals awake for work and school, while the night brings out our personal night musicians that play in the little store underneath our apartments. There is life here. A full, average, life that everyone lives out day to day. While this side of Nicosia is alive and well, the other half is a world unto itself.

To get to the Turkish half of Nicosia, me and my classmates walked through the older downtown area. The Greek side of downtown is covered with kiosks full of huge varieties of souvenirs and traditional art. Every building in the old city has a different door, and range in age from more modern, to the 11-15th centuries. It is a touristic heaven of sorts.

After walking down the center of downtown Nicosia, you get to a checkpoint. This checkpoint marks the beginning of the green line, patrolled by Greek soldiers that allow you to walk through. A green line represents a line of UN patrol to establish peace between two warring sides. Greek soldiers are on one side, the UN patrols the middle, and Turkish soldiers patrol the other side. After we walked through the Turkish checkpoint, a literal green divide with screens and abandoned, crumbling, buildings lined the walkway. When getting to the Turkish checkpoint, we had to not only show our passports, but also get a visa signed and stamped by the official.

Arriving in the Turkish section of Nicosia filled me with awe and slight distress. A night and day effect had set in with me and my classmates. I realized that I had left the beautiful Nicosia that has been my home for the last 5 days, and have landed in a foreign land with it's own set of rules. An area of shops were set up not to far from the checkpoints, but, with a closer look, one noticed that some of the shops just didn't quite make sense. One sign read "no name shop", the others were overflowing with fake purses, 7-up signs that were slightly askew littered the floor. Since the Turkish side of Cyprus is an occupied territory, they can't get licensed to have any sort of product. Anything you see (such as a McDonalds...and so on) is completely fake.

One of our professors had befriended a restaurant owner named Mustapha (one of the Turkish invaders from 1974) the previous year he had been in Cyprus, so we paid him a visit on our way in. Mustapha was definitely a character to remember. His thick accent and hand gestures signaled us to take our seats and prepare to inhale some delicious Turkish-Cypriot food. While he was bustling about our table, I couldn't help but notice a somewhat awkwardly placed tattoo on his forearm. A wolf-like animal reaching towards a Turkish crescent and star symbol covered nearly most of his arm. After I paid, I decided to ask him what exactly that represented. "I was in the army! 35 years! 1974!" he exclaimed. I still wasn't quite sure what that had to do with his tattoo, but, regardless, I went with it.

Later on while walking, I noticed it, his tattoo. Glimmering gold in the sunlight. It hit me all at once. That was the symbol for the Turkish army. Mustapha wasn't afraid to state who he was since that was who he was, a Turkish invader. However now, after 35 years of turmoil had come and gone, Mustapha had come to terms with his Cypriot life. "It is better now that everyone has their sides", Mustapha told my classmate.

As I delved deeper into the heart of Turkish Nicosia, I noticed an eerie feeling of emptiness. The streets were bare, houses vacant and locked up, and way fewer tourists lined the alley ways. It would take almost 8-9 rundown houses before finding one with people in it. I also found two apartments with clothes hanging out front, with the green line literally slicing through their backyards. A harsh reality of political turmoil and sadness rushed me in a huge wave. The bitterness of both sides was physically reflected in the bare remains of their communities.

What I find the most interesting is how this issue of division is reflected through the people in Cyprus. After only being here 5 days, I have already heard a range of opinions. One younger Cypriot I met rang out the familiar words "Don't you forget! It is an OCCUPIED territory!". Another, older Cypriot mentioned that positivity it has created in keeping different people separated. Others, like a protest we saw in the Old Grecian Nicosia, chanted the hope of unity and "one street" mentality.

A divided backyard is what Cyprus has ended up living through. Though it is something that I find sad and heartbreaking, I have noticed that the Cypriots have slowly but surely started to work towards the hardest step, forgiveness.