Sevgul Uludag
He had seen 70 summers and 70 winters… 70 falls and as many spring times… Perhaps more – I don’t know, I am just guessing because he looked old…
Old and heartbroken – that he had to leave his village, that he had to see this country being divided…
But more than that, he saw things that no one should see, no one should experience – things that helped destroy the beautiful life that once existed on this island. Things that destroyed humanity, things that made people go in their own `national ghettos`, closing their eyes to the good and generous relationships that once existed.
When I first met him and we started talking through his daughter, all of a sudden he had started crying… Tears rolling down his cheeks, he stifled his sobs to tell me what he had seen: I was telling him about the `missing persons` of Yialousa and how we had found them in Galatia and he was remembering something else, something that had bothered him all his life.
No, he was not the killer but he had seen how two Turkish Cypriots from Galinoporni (Kaleburnu) was killed and buried somewhere outside Yialousa. He had carried the pain locked inside him because there was no one to share it with, someone to understand, to soothe the pain and to help dry away those tears rolling down his cheeks. 70 summers and 70 winters, 70 autumns and 70 springs and yet the pain was still fresh and insistent, not wanting to go away, there to remain to come back to haunt him.
I went to see him again but he was not there… Only his daughter, who had a ready smile and who did not know until his father spoke that there were also `Turkish Cypriot missing persons`. She always assumed that only `Greek Cypriot missing persons` existed and now, at this age, she was finding out that `Oh my God! There are also Turkish Cypriot missing?...`
Emir Aybenk was only three months old when his father went missing and Shevket Zorba was barely two years old… No memories of their fathers holding them or kissing them or playing with them. Nothing! Only photos shown to them and their mothers telling them, `Okay, this was your father…`
No concept of how a father loves his children, no concept of that security and protection that only a father can provide. Always missing a part of their lives, a precious part, like oysters with the missing pearls…
So they had grown up like that, Emir and Shevket, the sons of the two Galinoporn’ Turkish Cypriots `missing` since 11 May 1964. Just like the children of those Greek Cypriot `missing` from 64 or 74, still looking for their father, what has remained of them so they can bury them properly like a human being and visit their graves during times of commemoration…
I visited the Greek Cypriot old man again but this time, taking the two sons, Emir and Shevket with me. There was also with us, the brother of Ali Musa Zorba, Behchet Zorba – they all spoke Greek perfectly and we found the old man in front of his shop, sitting in a chair… It was still chilly at this early hours of the morning and he brought us chairs to sit with him. We sat around talking and gradually he realized who these two persons were: They were the sons of the Turkish Cypriots whom he knew where they were buried. Again, tears started rolling down his cheeks and I went to bring him some toilet paper and make some coffee so we could drink to come to our senses. It was an emotional morning and because of the haunting memory of those `missing`, he would decide to take a bold step to show his humanity to those children waiting for their fathers with whom they did not even have one single memory. He was courageous enough to decide to show us the burial site…
His daughter got worried: What if we took her father and he would not come back?
`Let some of us remain here with you as a hostage and let your father go and show where these missing persons are buried and then come back. Or you can come with us as well…`
Emir, who was three months old when his father went `missing` volunteered to stay with her:
`I can stay with you` he told her. But in the end, she said, `Okay, go. But bring me back my father…`
Of course…
Off we went to Yialousa with the old man where he would show us the burial site. We drew outside Yialousa and past the Teresa Hotel, we found a dirt road leading up to the sea. Here we turned to go down and at one point, he stopped the car to get out and look. He must have made a mark in his mind about this place and after going round in circles, around one particular area, he stopped and told us that they must be buried here, under the shinya… His mark, apparently was a carob tree which was a tiny thing back then but now it had grown into something big… Gradually, all the relatives of the two families started coming to where we were and talking with him.
This man who had seen 70 winters and 70 summers, who had tears for what had happened in Cyprus, was doing something extremely courageous: He was showing us the burial site of two persons `missing` from 1964. `Magari navre husin` he says and I find out that this means `May they be found…`
The `missing` Abdullah Emirzade and Ali Musa Zorba were farmers from Galinoporni. Abdullah Emirzade had a truck and when the harvest machine had broken down, he had gone to Ayios Andronikos, together with Ali Musa Zorba, to buy a new part. The date was 11th of May 1964 – it was the day when inside the old town of Famagusta, the son of the Greek Cypriot chief of police, Pantelis and two or three Greek officers were shot and killed. An `order` was given to take `revenge` and around 80 Turkish Cypriot civilians went `missing` from Larnaca-Famagusta-Karpaz area on that and the following days. Who gave those orders? According to one Greek Cypriot friend, the `revenge` was for the Greek officer Kapotos who had been shot dead inside the walled city of Famagusta and according to him, the order was given by some Greek officers. Perhaps we need to search more about this `revenge` story to really put the pieces of the puzzle in place and find out what actually happened…
So when Abdullah Emirzade and Ali Musa Zorba were going back to their village, they were stopped at Litrangomi and taken. A bicycle was thrown in front of the truck to stop it. Then, they took them…
The truck would be painted in military colors and used by the army later on to carry Greek Cypriot soldiers and the relatives of Abdullah Emirzade would recognize the truck. While Abdullah Emirzade’s family paid the debts owed to the bank for the `missing` truck, the truck would be used by the army! Abdullah Emirzade and Ali Musa Zorba were taken from Litrangomi to the tobacco factory of Yialousa, the rumors said and later they were brought to the spot where the old man showed us, to be shot and buried together…
This place was close to the sea and smelled of shinya – it was the area of Eleusa called `Mandra du Sina`. Once upon a time, this area had belonged to the Evkaf, later to be given to the monastery of Eleusa I was told. There was a stream where the shepherds would come to water their flock which led to the sea. I could see a small bay and the color turquoise of the sea…
It was a powerful moment for me – for the past two years, my Turkish Cypriot readers had been helping to show and find the burial sites of the `missing` Greek Cypriots in the northern part of the island. Some of my Greek Cypriot readers also pointed out places of burial of `missing` Turkish Cypriots but it was the first time now, a Greek Cypriot was courageous enough to actually cross to the northern part, to show a burial site of the `missing` Turkish Cypriots. This was the humanity and the cooperation we needed if we wanted to make progress in our relationship as Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots…
The sea, the shinya, the beauty of Yialousa would always be there – the old man who had seen 70 winters and 70 summers with tears in his eyes, was giving back the humanity to this soil that had been `missing`…
He had seen 70 summers and 70 winters… 70 falls and as many spring times… Perhaps more – I don’t know, I am just guessing because he looked old…
Old and heartbroken – that he had to leave his village, that he had to see this country being divided…
But more than that, he saw things that no one should see, no one should experience – things that helped destroy the beautiful life that once existed on this island. Things that destroyed humanity, things that made people go in their own `national ghettos`, closing their eyes to the good and generous relationships that once existed.
When I first met him and we started talking through his daughter, all of a sudden he had started crying… Tears rolling down his cheeks, he stifled his sobs to tell me what he had seen: I was telling him about the `missing persons` of Yialousa and how we had found them in Galatia and he was remembering something else, something that had bothered him all his life.
No, he was not the killer but he had seen how two Turkish Cypriots from Galinoporni (Kaleburnu) was killed and buried somewhere outside Yialousa. He had carried the pain locked inside him because there was no one to share it with, someone to understand, to soothe the pain and to help dry away those tears rolling down his cheeks. 70 summers and 70 winters, 70 autumns and 70 springs and yet the pain was still fresh and insistent, not wanting to go away, there to remain to come back to haunt him.
I went to see him again but he was not there… Only his daughter, who had a ready smile and who did not know until his father spoke that there were also `Turkish Cypriot missing persons`. She always assumed that only `Greek Cypriot missing persons` existed and now, at this age, she was finding out that `Oh my God! There are also Turkish Cypriot missing?...`
Emir Aybenk was only three months old when his father went missing and Shevket Zorba was barely two years old… No memories of their fathers holding them or kissing them or playing with them. Nothing! Only photos shown to them and their mothers telling them, `Okay, this was your father…`
No concept of how a father loves his children, no concept of that security and protection that only a father can provide. Always missing a part of their lives, a precious part, like oysters with the missing pearls…
So they had grown up like that, Emir and Shevket, the sons of the two Galinoporn’ Turkish Cypriots `missing` since 11 May 1964. Just like the children of those Greek Cypriot `missing` from 64 or 74, still looking for their father, what has remained of them so they can bury them properly like a human being and visit their graves during times of commemoration…
I visited the Greek Cypriot old man again but this time, taking the two sons, Emir and Shevket with me. There was also with us, the brother of Ali Musa Zorba, Behchet Zorba – they all spoke Greek perfectly and we found the old man in front of his shop, sitting in a chair… It was still chilly at this early hours of the morning and he brought us chairs to sit with him. We sat around talking and gradually he realized who these two persons were: They were the sons of the Turkish Cypriots whom he knew where they were buried. Again, tears started rolling down his cheeks and I went to bring him some toilet paper and make some coffee so we could drink to come to our senses. It was an emotional morning and because of the haunting memory of those `missing`, he would decide to take a bold step to show his humanity to those children waiting for their fathers with whom they did not even have one single memory. He was courageous enough to decide to show us the burial site…
His daughter got worried: What if we took her father and he would not come back?
`Let some of us remain here with you as a hostage and let your father go and show where these missing persons are buried and then come back. Or you can come with us as well…`
Emir, who was three months old when his father went `missing` volunteered to stay with her:
`I can stay with you` he told her. But in the end, she said, `Okay, go. But bring me back my father…`
Of course…
Off we went to Yialousa with the old man where he would show us the burial site. We drew outside Yialousa and past the Teresa Hotel, we found a dirt road leading up to the sea. Here we turned to go down and at one point, he stopped the car to get out and look. He must have made a mark in his mind about this place and after going round in circles, around one particular area, he stopped and told us that they must be buried here, under the shinya… His mark, apparently was a carob tree which was a tiny thing back then but now it had grown into something big… Gradually, all the relatives of the two families started coming to where we were and talking with him.
This man who had seen 70 winters and 70 summers, who had tears for what had happened in Cyprus, was doing something extremely courageous: He was showing us the burial site of two persons `missing` from 1964. `Magari navre husin` he says and I find out that this means `May they be found…`
The `missing` Abdullah Emirzade and Ali Musa Zorba were farmers from Galinoporni. Abdullah Emirzade had a truck and when the harvest machine had broken down, he had gone to Ayios Andronikos, together with Ali Musa Zorba, to buy a new part. The date was 11th of May 1964 – it was the day when inside the old town of Famagusta, the son of the Greek Cypriot chief of police, Pantelis and two or three Greek officers were shot and killed. An `order` was given to take `revenge` and around 80 Turkish Cypriot civilians went `missing` from Larnaca-Famagusta-Karpaz area on that and the following days. Who gave those orders? According to one Greek Cypriot friend, the `revenge` was for the Greek officer Kapotos who had been shot dead inside the walled city of Famagusta and according to him, the order was given by some Greek officers. Perhaps we need to search more about this `revenge` story to really put the pieces of the puzzle in place and find out what actually happened…
So when Abdullah Emirzade and Ali Musa Zorba were going back to their village, they were stopped at Litrangomi and taken. A bicycle was thrown in front of the truck to stop it. Then, they took them…
The truck would be painted in military colors and used by the army later on to carry Greek Cypriot soldiers and the relatives of Abdullah Emirzade would recognize the truck. While Abdullah Emirzade’s family paid the debts owed to the bank for the `missing` truck, the truck would be used by the army! Abdullah Emirzade and Ali Musa Zorba were taken from Litrangomi to the tobacco factory of Yialousa, the rumors said and later they were brought to the spot where the old man showed us, to be shot and buried together…
This place was close to the sea and smelled of shinya – it was the area of Eleusa called `Mandra du Sina`. Once upon a time, this area had belonged to the Evkaf, later to be given to the monastery of Eleusa I was told. There was a stream where the shepherds would come to water their flock which led to the sea. I could see a small bay and the color turquoise of the sea…
It was a powerful moment for me – for the past two years, my Turkish Cypriot readers had been helping to show and find the burial sites of the `missing` Greek Cypriots in the northern part of the island. Some of my Greek Cypriot readers also pointed out places of burial of `missing` Turkish Cypriots but it was the first time now, a Greek Cypriot was courageous enough to actually cross to the northern part, to show a burial site of the `missing` Turkish Cypriots. This was the humanity and the cooperation we needed if we wanted to make progress in our relationship as Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots…
The sea, the shinya, the beauty of Yialousa would always be there – the old man who had seen 70 winters and 70 summers with tears in his eyes, was giving back the humanity to this soil that had been `missing`…
2 comments:
my name is N. abdullah i am 13 years old, i am abdullah's grand daughter. his son is my father.
i never knew my grand father because of what has happened to him, i was never really 100% on the story of how he went missing and was found again, i have heard so many sides of the story and to hear it from someone else makes me realise it isnt just my family who suffered through this time.
and i would just like to say thank you for posting this on the internet because it shows people what it was, and still sometimes is, like all over the world.
my name is N. Abdullah i am 13 years old, i am Abdullah's grand daughter. his son is my father.
i never knew my grand father because of what has happened to him, i was never really 100% on the story of how he went missing and was found again, i have heard so many sides of the story and to hear it from someone else makes me realise it isnt just my family who suffered through this time.
and i would just like to say thank you for posting this on the internet because it shows people what it was, and still sometimes is, like all over the world.
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