Birkibrisli wrote:By the time we Left Aytotro it was mid-afternoon and I was feeling tired and emotional.When I feel tired and emotional I always turn to food for comfort. And right now I was in dire need of lots of comforting...
The relief came at Captain's Table. A world class seafood restaurant somewhere on Larnaca coast. Here I experienced the first of many such emotional reliefs with the help of a superb seafood banquet, which was to become a regular delight during my homecoming visit.And I began telling my TCB (True Cypriot Brother!) the relevant details regarding our next stop...
My secondary education started in Limassol at the 19 May High School (19 Mayis Lisesi) during the 1961/62 academic year. I was 10 years and six months old. This had nothing to do with my being a genious or anything.But with my father's ambition and desire to see me catch up to my sister who had started Primary 2 years before me. There was a logic to Father's madness. He wanted us to finish the high school together so we could go to University in Turkey at the same time. He was planning a chaperoning role for me. Father was nothing if not a forward planner.
So here I was, not yet circumsized even, starting Secondary school in Limassol. It was Limassol because,after Aytotro, Father was transfered to
a larger village near Limassol which shall remain nameless. The reason why it shall remain nameless will become obvious as this episode unfolds.
It was this village,and not my beloved Istinjo,that I dreaded to visit most on this trip. It was this village that proved emotionally most diffcult to visit.
It was here that I saw my first lifeless body. And it was here that I came very close to becoming a corpse myself...
(To be continued...)
Despite my age,I had little trouble coping with the lessons. But I was not prepared for the attention that our presence caused. Not only were we in the same class but we also shared the same desk. I still have no idea why two siblings,albeit a boy and a girl, sharing one desk should cause such commotion...We had scores of mainly older students walking past our classroom window laughing and pointing the finger at us. This continued for weeks till finally one of our teachers made the obvious suggestion that we should perhaps sit at different desks. So with great relief I moved to the back of the class and proceeded to make a name for myself as the class clown...
This of course was nothing but a defence mechanism.My sister and I were
always near the top of class and the teachers were openly fond of us.The other kids,especially the boys,resented my very presence. And made it obvious during sport activities. Even non-contact sports like volleyball or football became contact sports if I was involved,and I was often sent flying into the air and landing on my arse. I had two ways to cope with this. Firstly,I never complained to the teachers;just got back on my feet and tried even harder to compete with boys 2 years older than me.And I used my clowning skills to make them laugh in class. I pulled faces,did funny imiation of the teachers while their backs were turned,or told jokes in a whisper,always making sure I was sitting perfectly still and attentive when the teachers looked to see what the commotion was.
I was not afraid of being dobbed in.The teachers would never believe one of their top students was capable of disturbing the class.Some of the kids learnt fast to keep their mouths shut if they didnt want to be punished for false accusations. Thinking back,I am sure some of the teachers knew about my antics but turned a blind eye for they understood my difficulties.
Father's well-made plans ended in disappointment however. My sister and I did finish high school together in 1967,but by then the "Cyprus problem" was very much a part of our lives. While she was allowed to leave the Nicosia enclave for Ankara to commence her tertiary studies,I had to stay back till I completed my military service. To make matters worse, at 16 I was too young to join the army...I was expected to wait till I turned 18 to go into the army,and complete 3 years of national service before I was allowed to go anywhere. Father had no intention of letting them waste 5 years of my time...And he had his own very good reasons for wanting to get out of Cyprus...
(To be continued...)
So keep reading!
