Cyprus-Forum.com

[BirKibrisli]

Thank you all for the encouragement...
It is a small world, isn't it Deniz??? I was delighted to find out we were related. Lets take a moment to thank that Precious Lady who help us discover the link...

The electrical storm seems to have passed. So I can tell you a bit more of my story...

[Sotos]

Please feel free to make and comments or ask me any questions you like...I will try to answer them if I possibly can...

I suggest otherwise.....please complete your story without interruption and if anyone has any questions they can ask at the end...
Easy to hijack the thread if questions start coming in now...

I agree! With Kikapu's story every post was several pages from the previous one because it had too many comments. It made it more difficult to read the story. And I also think some people with their comments will try to force Bir to change his story! So I think better to let Bir finish his story and then comment!

[denizaksulu]

Thank you all for the encouragement...
It is a small world, isn't it Deniz??? I was delighted to find out we were related. Lets take a moment to thank that Precious Lady who help us discover the link...

The electrical storm seems to have passed. So I can tell you a bit more of my story...

What link was that? The'missing' link?

[Sotos]

Maybe it was the 'weakest link'?

[Natty]

Hi Bir, really looking forward to reading your Cyprus experiences..

[BirKibrisli]

Last time I stood in front of this house the year was 1969...I was 17 years old...It belonged to my Ayshe Teyze,my mother's younger sister.It is in a village called Civisil...In fact I spend my last 2 weeks in Cyprus in this house...It was like a refuge or a hiding place...Back in those good old days if you were a Turkish Cypriot and you lived in the Turkish enclave in Nicosia you were not allowed to get out of the enclave if you were a male between the ages of 12 and 55...Unless you had a very good reason...

My father had a very good reason. He had made a deal with the TMT a few years earlier. He would leave the island as soon as possible,and keep his mouth shut about TMT activities he disagreed with.In return they promised not to whack him in the meantime...But I had no such luck...
I had to stay and do my national service,then I could join him in exile...
Rightly or wrongly my father did not want to leave me behind.So I had to be smuggled out of the enclave and come here,to this house in Civisil, in good time to wait for the plane ride which would take us to Southampton in England in time to catch the good ship Australis bound for Australia.

Visiting this house on my first day in Cyprus after 38 years was not on the agenda.When my True Cypriot Brother (TCB!) picked me up from Larnaca Airport our first stop was Hala Sultan's Tekke (Um Kharam Muselium) not far from the airport...I had been there once before as a 12 year old on one of the school excursions...I remember that day well...We were happy as only students who have a day off from their routine can be...More interested in playing tricks on each other than looking at the Other Worldly offerings in front of us...I was happy to get this opportunity to make ammends and show proper respect to one of the holiest shrines in Islamic history...

Our next stop was to be the Aytotro (Ayios Theodoros) village in Larnaca where I had lived for one year.My father was a primary school teacher and I had the terrible misfortune of attending 4 different primary schools as Father's occupation took us to different parts of the island...As we drove along the highway I saw the sign pointing to Civisil and made a special request of my TCB (True Cypriot Brother)...We were now standing in front of the house which I had no trouble finding even after 38 years...A slow drive through the little village,a left and a right and here we were...

"Lets see if anyone is home," my TCB said. I hesitated. Not wanting to disturb the people inside..."It is my Auntie's house and I was only here for two weeks..." I mumbled..."Did she have any children?" -"yes,a boy and two girls" - "fine ,we'll tell them you are the son."


(To be continued....)

Soon the door opened and an elderly man let us into the house...I stood in the middle of the living room trying to reorient myself.Two elderly women came out from different rooms and fixed their eyes on me.
"Welcome," said the man, "This is your house...you are most welcome!"
He spoke in Cypriot Greek of course and my TCB translated.
A lump formed in my throat. I turned and asked for permission to go into the room I had stayed in during those 2 weeks. When I walked in I found myself in a modern kitchen. Seeing my confusion the man explained,"We turned that room into a kitchen," he said almost apologically."Your sister was here too not long ago,she too was surprised".This was getting dangerous now,as I had no idea which of my cousins had visited or when.
It was probably the eldest cousin E. who lives in the trnc. The youngest, P.
lived in Ankara last time I saw her,and the boy was now a successful doctor in Istanbul. The last time I saw Dr H. was in 1973 when he was still a medical student. This I suppose is what happens when tragedy strikes twice.Families disperse and lose touch...First the terrible saga of Cyprus. Followed by the personal tragedy of the death of Auntie Ayshe soon after moving to the North in 1975.On her way to a family wedding Ayshe teyzem was struck down by a car.Eyewitnesses said she was walking like in a trance.Never coming to terms with losing her home and her village...Her husband,Uncle Mustafa (the most decent and honorable man I have ever known),became a broken man.His devotion to Auntie Ayshe was legendary in the family...

All this flashed in my head and I felt a tinge of guilt for not keeping in touch. I remembered the old kitchen which was outside in the courtyard on the right. As Deniz pointed out many delicious meals was created and had in this kitchen.Auntie Ayshe's specialties being pidgeon and chicken cooked in variety of ways. Home bred and personally caught and slaughtered of course. I walked outside into an almost empty courtyard.My mind saw the pidgeon and chicken coups,and I could swear I heard the terrified cries of the chooks chased by Auntie Ayshe...My mouth watered and the lump in my throat got considerably bigger. It was time to get out of that haunting house.Inside the new owners were insisting that we stay for coffee and sweets..I had a pressing need to leave before I disgraced myself. I went up to the man and shook his hand thanking him for his time.."This is your house now," I said,"You have lost your own house,so it is only fair."..The man smiled and squeezed my hand. In his eyes I saw sadness and compassion.

Outside,on the other side of the road I saw the familiar wall...There I saw my 17-year-old self sitting in the winter sun reading Tolstoy's "War and Peace".And Hemigway's "Farewell to Arms"...Those two weeks were the longest weeks of my life...Those two books which my father slipped into my suitcase were like Godsent...Before getting into the car I walked over to the spot I remembered sitting at and touched the wall briefly.It was getting on in the afternoon but the sun was burning fiercely...Not like it was 38 years ago on those sunny February days...
(to be continued...)

[denizaksulu]

Last time I stood in front of this house the year was 1969...I was 17 years old...It belonged to my Ayshe Teyze,my mother's younger sister.It is in a village called Civisil...In fact I spend my last 2 weeks in Cyprus in this house...It was like a refuge or a hiding place...Back in those good old days if you were a Turkish Cypriot and you lived in the Turkish enclave in Nicosia you were not allowed to get out of the enclave if you were a male between the ages of 12 and 55...Unless you had a very good reason...

My father had a very good reason. He had made a deal with the TMT a few years earlier. He would leave the island as soon as possible,and keep his mouth shut about TMT activities he disagreed with.In return they promised not to whack him in the meantime...But I had no such luck...
I had to stay and do my national service,then I could join him in exile...
Rightly or wrongly my father did not want to leave me behind.So I had to be smuggled out of the enclave and come here,to this house in Civisil, in good time to wait for the plane ride which would take us to Southampton in England in time to catch the good ship Australis bound for Australia.

Visiting this house on my first day in Cyprus after 38 years was not on the agenda.When my True Cypriot Brother (TCB!) picked me up from Larnaca Airport our first stop was Hala Sultan's Tekke (Um Kharam Muselium) not far from the airport...I had been there once before as a 12 year old on one of the school excursions...I remember that day well...We were happy as only students who have a day off from their routine can be...More interested in playing tricks on each other than looking at the Other Worldly offerings in front of us...I was happy to get this opportunity to make ammends and show proper respect to one of the holiest shrines in Islamic history...

Our next stop was to be the Aytotro (Ayios Theodoros) village in Larnaca where I had lived for one year.My father was a primary school teacher and I had the terrible misfortune of attending 4 different primary schools as Father's occupation took us to different parts of the island...As we drove along the highway I saw the sign pointing to Civisil and made a special request of my TCB (True Cypriot Brother)...We were now standing in front of the house which I had no trouble finding even after 38 years...A slow drive through the little village,a left and a right and here we were...

"Lets see if anyone is home," my TCB said. I hesitated. Not wanting to disturb the people inside..."It is my Auntie's house and I was only here for two weeks..." I mumbled..."Did she have any children?" -"yes,a boy and two girls" - "fine ,we'll tell them you are the son."


(To be continued....)

Soon the door opened and an elderly man let us into the house...I stood in the middle of the living room trying to reorient myself.Two elderly women came out from different rooms and fixed their eyes on me.
"Welcome," said the man, "This is your house...you are most welcome!"
He spoke in Cypriot Greek of course and my TCB translated.
A lump formed in my throat. I turned and asked for permission to go into the room I had stayed in during those 2 weeks. When I walked in I found myself in a modern kitchen. Seeing my confusion the man explained,"We turned that room into a kitchen," he said almost apologically."Your sister was here too not long ago,she too was surprised".This was getting dangerous now,as I had no idea which of my cousins had visited or when.
It was probably the eldest cousin E. who lives in the trnc. The youngest, P.
lived in Ankara last time I saw her,and the boy was now a successful doctor in Istanbul. The last time I saw Dr H. was in 1973 when he was still a medical student. This I suppose is what happens when tragedy strikes twice.Families disperse and lose touch...First the terrible saga of Cyprus. Followed by the personal tragedy of the death of Auntie Ayshe soon after moving to the North in 1975.On her way to a family wedding Ayshe teyzem was struck down by a car.Eyewitnesses said she was walking like in a trance.Never coming to terms with losing her home and her village...Her husband,Uncle Mustafa (the most decent and honorable man I have ever known),became a broken man.His devotion to Auntie Ayshe was legendary in the family...

All this flashed in my head and I felt a tinge of guilt for not keeping in touch. I remembered the old kitchen which was outside in the courtyard on the right. As Deniz pointed out many delicious meals was created and had in this kitchen.Auntie Ayshe's specialties being pidgeon and chicken cooked in variety of ways. Home bred and personally caught and slaughtered of course. I walked outside into an almost empty courtyard.My mind saw the pidgeon and chicken coups,and I could swear I heard the terrified cries of the chooks chased by Auntie Ayshe...My mouth watered and the lump in my throat got considerably bigger. It was time to get out of that haunting house.Inside the new owners were insisting that we stay for coffee and sweets..I had a pressing need to leave before I disgraced myself. I went up to the man and shook his hand thanking him for his time.."This is your house now," I said,"You have lost your own house,so it is only fair."..The man smiled and squeezed my hand. In his eyes I saw sadness and compassion.

Outside,on the other side of the road I saw the familiar wall...There I saw my 17-year-old self sitting in the winter sun reading Tolstoy's "War and Peace".And Hemigway's "Farewell to Arms"...Those two weeks were the longest weeks of my life...Those two books which my father slipped into my suitcase were like Godsent...Before getting into the car I walked over to the spot I remembered sitting at and touched the wall briefly.It was getting on in the afternoon but the sun was burning fiercely...Not like it was 38 years ago on those sunny February days...
(to be continued...)

[tessintrnc]

thank you

[Natty]

Bir, you write with such emotion..keep the posts coming I'm really enjoying reading about your Cyprus experiences..

[Kikapu]

Hello Bir,

Very happy that you have started writing your journal so that we can also come along for the ride with you on your epic journey to your home and birth place, Cyprus. I'm loving reading your story and the suspense that comes with it, which feels much bigger than the one on the Golden Gate Bridge is also killing me on awaiting for your next segment.

Welcome back.