This is a real account from Turkish Cypriot's about the good and bad times in Cyprus from the 50's to date, a very good read and this is part one of four.

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The 'other' Cyprus - Part 1 of 4

  The island of Cyprus is home to tens of thousands of people whose lives were turned up side down by the political earthquakes that shook them over the years, but their plight is left ignored in the shadows of the high diplomacy that continue to cover the newspaper headlines.

  ìFour times I have been forced to migrate. They told me ëCome here,' I went there. They told me ëGo there,' I went there, too. Now, when I say that I want to live in the land in which I was born, they call me a traitor. I don't deserve this,î says Dr. Dolgun Dalg?ç from Paphos (Baf), a Turkish Cypriot residing in Istanbul whose hometown is now on the ìother sideî of the divided island of Cyprus.

  He is one of the hundreds of thousands of people who can recall long years of peaceful coexistence by Turks and Greeks on this beautiful East Mediterranean island who suddenly found their lives caught up between ìenosisî (unification of Cyprus with Greece) and ìtaksimî (partition). If he hadn't uttered these words during a casual chat, this serial wouldn't exist.

  The hidden truth behind these words took Referans to the island to conduct interviews in pursuit of the other Cyprus, meaning the shattering of ordinary people's lives, forcing misery and accumulated years of yearning upon them, not the Cyprus of clichéd slogans reflecting the strategic interests of policies and capital cities in a setup where there is pressure to open up ports for Greek Cypriot ships within a month and where a Finnish solution package is on the debating table.

  Wanting to live in the land in which you were born becomes treason here.

  ìI want to live in the land in which I was born, they call me a traitor.î

  ìCyprus means migration,î says Dr. K?vanç Diren, born in a village of Paphos called Arodez in 1950. ìThe Cypriot Turk has once again accepted migration in order to obtain a solution. The highest percentage of votes that accepted the Annan plan came from Güzelyurt (Morphou). Turks over there said ëyes' knowing that it would mean yet another migration for them.î

  In Arodez, founded by the Knights of Rhodes, where 150 Turks and 100 Greeks lived before migration, Diren recalls: ìThe soil was fertile; there were vineyards, the Turks even had a winery. The first wave of migration came after 1955. The Greek National Organization of Cypriot Fighters (EOKA) was initially anti-British, but the British formed a Turkish auxiliary police force and used it against the Greeks, in such a way that the two communities clashed with each other. That was when attacks started to be diverted towards the Turks. Turkish villages began to be ransacked. So started the first migrations at that time.î

  Dalg?ç explains his first migration: ìI was born in 1956. I'm from the lower side of Paphos. There were 40 Turkish families there: It never became 41. There were 2,400 people in the town, including the Greeks. But the majority were Turks. There was no border between us until 1963. The streets were open. Greeks and Turks would pass through each other's houses. Our next-door neighbors were Greek. Down the hill were our uncles and aunts' houses and, between them, Greek houses. My father used to work at the port. He owned a café. Before that, he worked on a fishermen's barge. He would fish alongside the Greeks. Greek, Turkish and even English were spoken. Nobody ever asked, ëWhy are you speaking Turkish?' We did not have keys to our houses; the doors were not locked.

  ìI started school in 1963. We would go to school by bus. My father was not afraid to send me to school. Then at some point I realized that men were taking shifts at night guarding [us] with shotguns from the rooftops. There were things going on that my child's mind could not make out. It was fine to play on the streets in the daytime, but a guard was necessary at night. Then an order came: ëThe Turks should come up [to the town].' A truck came and we dumped whatever stuff we could into it and went up to the town. When we looked back, our houses had been set on fire. EOKA had torched them so that we could not return. The next day, we went back to fetch whatever was left of our belongings. I still remember the burning smell of our house to this day.î

  His father, Safa Dalg?ç, describes how they went to collect their possessions: ìWe took orders from the commander the next day to go armed and collect our remaining stuff. When we arrived, the Greeks had shut themselves in their houses. None of them came out. A police car came. I stopped them to ask ëWhy did you come?' They answered: ëWe have not come for you; we have come for Customs. There are some deliveries there, we came to check them.' But as the policeman was talking to me, sweat was running down his face. He told me, ëDo whatever you want to do.' I told him, ëWe came to clean up what you have done; we will collect whatever is left.' He said, ëAll right, OK.' The houses were burnt down, not by the Greeks there, but by EOKA members from other villages. We had a sewing machine in our hallway. An acquaintance of ours named Yorgo had barged in [to our house] and put out the fire on the cover of our sewing machine. He asked the arsonists, ëWhat have these people done to you?'î

  Dr. Hasan Adatas¸, whose father joined the Greek civil war as ìmuleteerî from Cyprus, was born in 1956 in Paphos. He recalls the bitter reality of the sudden confrontation with the Greeks, the same people with whom they exchanged ìhellosî every morning in the town, those he played games with. He recalls the migration as being like a game: ìDirectly opposite our house there was a Greek ironsmith. His customers used to turn their cars around on our land. I helped the Greek drivers to maneuver in Greek by ordering ëto the left, to the right'.

  ìI have a hard time remembering how and when I first heard of it, but I knew that war would start in December '63. My father was a member of the Turkish Resistance Organization (TMT). We lived with my aunts. We had two cars. One day my father came and said, ëPack up, we're going.' He had probably been given orders. We put our most essential items in those two cars and went to the Muttalo neighborhood. Two pre-school classrooms of a small elementary school were allocated to us. During the first few days, we would come home during the daytime and then go to the school overnight. As children there was a new excitement in our daily life. Everything was like a game to me.î

  His ninth sibling was born at that school. Adatas¸ remembers the moment: ìMy mother was in labor in the middle of the night. The midwife was a staunch lady. We woke up to the rush and noise. We were sleeping on mattresses on the floor. When we raised our heads, midwife Ays¸e yelled at us so sternly that we all curled up under our quilts. She helped my mother give birth over the school desks.î

  Migration left its mark with a bundle of parsley in the childhood memories of Dr. Arif Albayrak, now a member of Parliament in the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (KKTC): ìOur uncles lived next to the school I attended. I could not understand what was going on with my child's mind. But there was one incident that I cannot forget. One day my mother told me, ëGo to your aunt; she will give you some parsley from the garden.' I went out and headed for their house; not the house they had moved to after the events. I went to their former house, crossing the border between the Greeks and the Turks. It was an uninhabited house -- nobody was living in it. There were soldiers around, Greeks were around. I asked myself, ëWhat is happening?' I was frightened to death and went back home, crying. My mother asked me, ëWhere did you go, to the old house?' I told her, ëHow could I have known, mom?' Fortunately, no incident occurred. I can still remember now how hard my heart was pounding.î

  

My mother has not cooked mant? for 42 years:

  Hasan Adatas¸ knows the pain of mass killings intimately. He explains the disappearance of his grandmother and grandfather, together with a busload of people: ìIn 1964, mass killings began in Cyprus. We still do not know where their graves are. My grandmother and grandfather boarded a bus from Nicosia to Limasol heading towards Paphos. They disappeared after they left Nicosia. It has been 42 years. Nothing has been found. The identity of the driver, the others on the bus, these were all known. When the news broke, my mother was cooking mant? (a ravioli-like dish served with yogurt). She would cook it every now and then because my father loved it. I was eight years old. I have only a vague memory of events. The news came to our household, ëYour mother and father, together with a group of people of around 30-40, have disappeared on a bus.' Of course the Greeks took them. That was the current trend. I don't know what kind of mind does this. Everything happens in confrontational communities. I wish it didn't. These kinds of things do not honor the Greek or the Turk. My mother was devastated. She cried for days. A faint hope lasted for some time that ëthey might be somewhere else'. My mother never cooked that dish again, though she liked it very much. For 42 years. She is now almost 80 years old but you can still see the misery in her blue eyes.î

  Born in 1941 in Pas¸aköy (Assia), TMT member Hasan Hasgüler tells of the migration during 1955 and 1956 from the village that was also the birthplace of Tassos Papadopoulos to a district in Famagusta called Kaleiçi (inner castle): ìOnce we lived together with the Greeks. Then EOKA emerged. It organized [the crime]. They would attack us, annoy us. One evening when I was walking home from the café, some 20 of them stoned me. The police came, but what could they do? My father and my uncle used to work at the Famagusta port. They came one morning and we migrated.î

  

Dr. I?hsan was not a collaborator:

  Nesime Üzgüner, the wife of Süreyya, Dr. I?hsan's brother, believes that internal political disputes among the Turks was also a factor triggering confrontation with the Greeks, with whom they had once peacefully coexisted. Dr. I?hsan, a former mayor of Paphos, was declared a traitor and was not permitted to pass to the ìnorthî after 1974.

  She describes that period: ìDr. I?hsan was a far-sighted man. He would say, ëWe can live together with the Greeks.' But the other faction did not agree. It was before 1958. He was elected mayor of Kasaba (another Turkish name for Paphos). The schools were under British administration in those days. The doctor said, ëWe are Turks, why shouldn't our schools be under our own administration?' And he managed to put Baf Kurtulus¸ High School under Turkish administration. He wasn't one to collaborate with the Greeks. On the contrary, he was so much on the Turkish side as to provide intelligence on Greek positions.î

  Nesime Üzgüner was only reunited with her husband after 10 years; he remained on the Greek side in 1964. She describes the migration that caused the separation: ìMy husband was working as a painter at the Construction Planning Department. It was 1964. One morning, after he left for work, gunshots were heard. We were told, ëGet ready, we're leaving here,' because we were a minority in Paphos. Trucks and buses came. I had three children and another in my womb. We got on the truck in a hurry. My husband didn't know anything about it. He came home in the evening to find nobody there. He asked around, learned where we were. He came and found us at Muttalo. He stayed with us until the March 9, 1964 war. Positions were taken in the Marvali region. They were 10-12 people. The Greeks had heavy weapons. We had only shotguns. The Greeks approached and entered the house where my husband Süreyya was. They started retreating in groups. Some were injured. They were able to reach the neighborhood by covering each other. We all went down together. But some couldn't make it and they were caught. They were killed after being tortured.

  ìMy husband's brother had remained on the Greek side. Whenever he (my husband) went to the coffee house, people were saying things against the doctor. It was about his brother, he was extremely upset. We were broke. We had to raid the children's moneyboxes to make ends meet. Some food arrived but it was not enough. A few days later, a notice came from his office on the Greek side saying: ëCome back to work, or you will be fired.' He thought it over. He said: ëI'd better go. I'll come back in the evenings; I'll go during the daytime.' That was his last departure. Our fighters would not let him return. Not only did they prevent him from entering [the Turkish side], they also banned us from going to the green line between the Turks and the Greeks.î

  Nesime Üzgüner approached what she called ìour administrators,î Mr. Esat and Aziz Altay. She asked them to let him send her money, but they would not agree to it. When she said, ìBayram (a religious holiday) is approaching, let my children see their father,î they answered, ìLet him learn his lesson.î

  Their last child, born while their father was away, became sick one day. Her grandfather told Nesime: ìThis child is as good as dead. You'd better look after the others.î She wrapped the baby up in blankets. ìI went to the Green Line. There was a coffee house on the Greek side. My husband would come there every day to see if there was any news from us. I told the owner to call my husband because the child was dying. He phoned him. Süreyya came. He grabbed the baby to take it to the doctor without even looking at its face. He had never seen the child before. I was so upset that he didn't stop for a moment to see its face.î

  

Separated for 10 years:

  Nesime Üzgüner speaks of her reunion with her husband: ìI was being harassed constantly in Baf. I went to Nicosia. They gave me a room. I had three of my boys circumcised. They were giving me one or two lira a month. After the circumcision, they stopped giving me money. There was a [man named] Talat Bey, I went to him. He told me, ëThey are telling me that you receive money from your husband.' I recognized that they were talking like this about me when I was near them, now I was a hundred miles away and they were saying the same things. I decided to go back to Baf. I found accommodation at the immigrants' lodge. They gave me permission just before '74 and they allowed the children to pass [between the two sides] a few more times. Mr. Aziz would tell me not to take my children there. And I would respond, ëAre you going to look after them?' After '74, two of my children ran away through the mountains to seek refuge at the British bases. They were sent to Turkey. They returned to the ënorth' from there.

  ìMeanwhile I sent word to Süreyya to come. There was the United Nations and so on at the border then. I told him, ëWe are going to the north, and you should come, too.' He asked me, ëWhat if they kill me?' One day, [Rauf] Denktas¸ came to I?nonü Square by helicopter and spoke to us. I met him. I told him: ëMy husband wants to come to the north with me, but he's afraid. If you give me a promise, he will come.' He gave me his word. He told me not to worry. I told Süreyya: ëThe children want to grow up with you. They are ashamed of being fatherless.' He complied for their sake. He spoke to his brother. But nobody would guarantee his brother's safety. He (Dr. I?hsan) didn't come. He told Süreyya to stay and that he would arrange disability payments for him. I told Süreyya: ëIf you stay, we won't be able to see each other because we are moving far away. You are coming with us now.' We went to Famagusta together.

http://www.turkishdailynews.com.tr/article.php?enewsid=59288

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The Other Cyprus 2


Cevdet AS¸KIN
ISTANBUL - TDN/Referans

  Dolgun Dalg?ç says the battles in Baf started on Dec. 21, 1963. When a mortar shell fell on their house, he sensed that death was as real as life: ìThe Greeks were firing bazookas at the mosque because one of us was in the minaret. My fighter-father was in the battle. My mother and us four kids were crammed into a corner in our mud-brick house. I don't know why, but my mother said, ìLet's go to the other room.î We moved. Right after we went through the door, a shell hit that corner and the wall collapsed. Rocks fell, there were dust and smoke everywhere. If we had stayed there, we probably would not have been killed, but we would have been wounded.î

  His father, Safa Dalg?ç, in the meantime, ran to the house after he saw that the shell had fallen in that direction: ìI left my post and went to the house. I entered and saw that there were no casualties. I returned to the battle.î Father Dalg?ç describes how he fought: ìWe were at our war posts. They shot at us and we shot at them. God knows I did not want anybody to die. I never shot to kill. But others did, of course. There was a young postman. One Greek shop owner shot him in the market area. As soon as we heard this we armed ourselves and went down to the marketplace. One woman was lying under a car. I said, ìGet out.î She was scared and did not get out. I said ìLeave her, don't shoot.î There were 12 people in the shop; we called them out. My friend Hasan fired his gun and dropped the hat of one of them. I shouted at him ìWho ordered you to shoot? We want to take them as prisoners.î Take them as prisoners so that they would not kill innocent people on the street. ìLet me become Muslim so you won't shoot me,î the shopkeeper begged me. I said, ìDon't be scared,î and put him beside me. Our guys were angry with me, demanding to kill him. I said, ìWe don't know if he killed the postman.î

  We gathered 200 to 300 people in the upper area, under my command. We crammed them into the movie theater. Then we received an order to let them go. It was from Nicosia. Then the battle started. There was Ahmet B?y?kl?. ìYou come to the marketplace post and I will go to Marvali,î he said to me. I agreed and went to the marketplace. When the battle started, the Greeks got these 11 people as prisoners and cut them. They sent the bodies to us. We could not even go to the cemetery; we dug a hole in the ground and buried them. The brain of one of them was out. I picked up the brain and put in the grave with my hand. After that my post started to take heavy fire. We said, ìLet's move out.î It was on the second floor of the house. In order to save the people in the house two people jumped to the corner of the street and opened fire at the Greeks. We were just able to evacuate the house this way. ìFatî Çetin was the last in the house and he had all the guns on him. ìMove out, if you're going to,î I yelled to him. ìWe are running towards the street, and you'll be left behind otherwise. We are retreating.î We jumped into the street and fired our guns. Çetin rushed out. Then we ran away and came to the upper area.

Marketplace was under fire:

  ìSancaktarî was about to lose his mindDr. Hasan Adatas¸, who was at the age of 8 during the battles, explains how he came to realize it was not a game taking place and what death meant: ìThe first intense gunfire was heard in Mehcit. It was in Kasaba. Mehcit district was a place where well reputed people resided. Especially Turkish government officials and merchant class were living there. Since the battles were concentrated in that area, they are known as Mehcit Battles. It lasted for one or two days. We heard heavy gunfire like. Once in a while there were bombs too. Father and mother of my dad were alive in those days. It was during these battles we experienced the first fear.î Adatas¸ explains how Turks had to retreat from Mehcit and the troubles they had while retreating: ìMy father and my sister's husband were in TMT. They would not allow everybody in there. You had to be discreet and dependable. I did not know that he was a member. When my father came to home, he kneeled beside my grandfather sadly: ìFather, we had many difficulties, we drew back by digging the walls. That is how we rescued people.î Houses were right next to each other. To go on the street and pass that way was to be open to fire. To evacuate people safely, they had to dig holes on the walls using pickaxes and shovels and move people from house to house. The entire neighborhood was evacuated this way. Mehcit battles were in February. After that there was no time that we could go back to our houses. After the retreat from Mehcit, people mainly went to Muttalo. But Turks had not retreated from the marketplace completely. On a Saturday, on 7 March 1964, there was this open market which was setup every Saturday, and still goes on. Villagers used to come to the ordinary street; they used to sell their own products ñlike aubergines, tomatoes, green grocery, chickens, and eggs. It used to be crowded. Whatever would happen has happened on that Saturday. A Greek called Mavro shot a postman called Cevdet at his feet. Apparently he teased Mavro and asked for trouble. Cevdet ran to Muttalo district where mostly Turks live, and shouted ìMavro shot meî. Then all the TMT people grabbed their weapons. We afterwards went to the notables of the time's TMT, asked ìWho gave the order?î but they could not give a certain answer. From the minaret of the mosque, they opened heavy fire using the Bran on to the Greeks. They took 600 Greeks as prisoners indifferently including kids and brought them to Muttalo. Unfortunately the shops were all robbed. Turks took some of the people ñpeople they knew- in their houses. They locked the rest in the barns. My oldest brother was 16-17 years old. He took a pair of shoes, came home. My father said, ìYou will take it back, right nowî. ìEverybody tookî, replied him. ìWhat's that to me everybodyî said my father, he had them brought back. It was a shameful day. The ìSancaktarî was about to lose his mind because of this 7 March incident. He even said he could not understand what had happened. It was not something that a soldier could comprehend.îOn Monday morning at five-five thirty, the Minister for Internal Affairs Yorgadis gathered an army of two thousand people and besieged Muttalo, saying ìThere are terrorists here, I want themî. There were announcements, ìAttention, attention. Surrender.î Adatas¸ describes the mayhem right after the announcements: ìAll of a sudden the gunfire started. It was like a rain. The opposite side had come with full of hatred. There was mortar fire everywhere. The minaret had hits more than ever that day. Our grandfathers used to say ìThey put lead in the mixture while they were building the minaretî. That minaret still stands. There were fights chest to chest. They could not even move one inch forward. In Kasaba, there was this another mosque at the lower area. My sister's husband was in the so-called ìBlack Honeycombî destruction team. Greeks began firing at that mosque. It was understood that that post was about to fall. We needed to retreat in a systematic military way. On the other hand, if Greeks would have acquired the minaret it would be bad, they would put us under fire. It was 9 o'clock or so, we were at school. We entered the principal's room. While we were in there, there was a huge explosion. At those times there was the Apollo project, which we were seeing in movies. The rocket launching into the sky. I could never forget; that minaret rose like a rocket, everywhere was dust and smoke. My sister's husband got sick after he exploded the mosque.îDr. Arif Albayrak describes the life after the battles of 63: ìOne side of Baf was sea and the remaining three sides were surrounded by Greeks. It was not possible to go anywhere. In that so-called ìGhettoî, confined area; living was extremely difficult. Now when I remember those days I am astonished about what was happening. Cultural activities, theatres were held; art-culture magazines were published. I remember my teachers, they were composing songs. Life was going on. We finished secondary school, then high school. Sometimes we were going to the Greek side and buy books, do some shopping. But our administration forbade the shopping. Yet it is interesting. What happens in American movies is true. They say ìYou do not do shoppingî. People around the ones who said this used to buy stuff themselves in bulk and then sell them overpriced. My father was a blacksmith. They called him ëGalliga'. He trained himself. On the border which was drawn in 63, there was this place where we call the ìInnî. Villagers used to come and stay there. There were animal shelters. It was where the horseshoes were nailed and the animals were castrated. He was running that place. He had  very good relationships with the Greeks. It was a three thousand people society. There was a road which was open to the Greek side of the Inn. Let's say he was charging two shillings for shoeing. Sometimes Greek villagers were saying ìI do not have money, Ali Efendi. Take this one shilling, and also five bunches of lettucesî. My father used to accept it. When we were crossing the border on the way coming to our side, I remember somebody gave him in. They took them from him and threw on to the ground. In another time they said ìWe will destroy theseî and carried them away.î

Neighbors ran and threw flowers to the funeral of my sister:Remembering the death of his youngest sister, Hasan Adatas¸ tells us how the lives of Turks have unfolded in those cantons after the battle: ìThese people were acting with solidarity; there was no job or anything. English aid was arriving. At the weekend, I remember there was a square. We made it the marketplace. We used to distribute meat. An animal was to be found, slaughtered and given to the people waiting in the line according to the population of their family. In the slaughterhouse we merged with people from Dip Baf and people from Lemba Village. There was a huge unite we had there. You are sharing the same suffering. You migrated from your own land. There were two fountains. Twice a week we had water running. We used to form a line and fill up the tin containers with water and brought them to home. Sometimes there were some fights, fights arising from the queue disputes. But everybody was very respectful to the others. New friendships had been established. Nobody was ever complaining. Those friendships built up those days in that neighborhood that I can see still continue even today after forty two years of time.One day, my youngest sister had slipped and fell right beside the fountain. Her elbow got infected. It was July. My mother took my sister who had a high fever to a trainee doctor in Baf. There was the alarm those days. Some Turks had disappeared. My sister was given an injection there. In those times, if one had headache everybody would come and visit. The kid was sick, so all the neighborhood was in our house. Right in the afternoon she started having a seizure. She had spasms and her eyes were rolling. My brother Hilmi was holding her. Grandmother snatched the kid. ìLook she is now talking to the angelsî she said and began praying from the Kuran. My father was informed. He said ìWhat angelsî and brought my sister to the hospital. The doctor said ìI cannot give anything to her. Not even oxygen. There is only one tube, I am saving it for the woundedî. My father sent my brother to Sancaktar for permission to cross to the Greek side. We called him the ìIron Manî. He was the only unforgotten ìSancaktarî we had. He was tough but fair. He said my father had the responsibility. He went to other side with my sister. They put her in the oxygen tent. ìWe will do whatever we can but her situation is criticalî they said. Towards morning my sister has passed away. My father brought my sister home, mother was screaming. The graveyard was on the other side of the road, on Greek side. In those times if somebody had a funeral everybody would appear. But there was the alarm and it was critical that nobody could come to the funeral. My father put my sister together with an old man to the rear of a car. My brother rushed ìI will go tooî. Afterwards he told us what had happened. While in the car, all the people around went on to the street. Some threw flowers to the car, some gave their condolences. The car was filled with flowers by the time they arrived the graveyard.î

When Greeks offer cola, we adored it:ìBetween 67 and 74 there were no incidents. We could went to Greek side easily. We used to shop in the marketplace. Greeks did not treat us badî says Adatas¸, and continues: ìMy father was a merchant. He used to buy from Greek traders. We also used to go with him. Anyhow, it was the inner elements that created the problems. Tradesmen ñespecially Greek ones- would never be a part of the incident. My father had Greek friends. They were offering cola. We adored it. There was no such a thing on our side. There was Star Cola but it was not nice. I loved football very much. I used to play. There was the official Turkish league. In old times there was only one league. The Çetinkaya team had three-four years of championships in that league. When Çetinkaya came to Baf to play with ìBaf Ülkü Yurduî in 68, Greeks came to the ìgreen lineî asking ìLet us watch the gameî. They liked Çetinkaya very much.îDr. Dolgun Dalg?ç describes the period when his life was routine, as follows: ìThe population was 3 thousand in the region we lived. 2 movie theatres and one restaurant were there. It was like a family in between Turks. One's problem was everybody's problem. They say ìTurks are lazyî, you know; here is why: Turks could not do business for years under the war conditions. They could not do international trade. They survived with what has been sent from Turkey. They were detached from production. This is the reason.

http://www.turkishdailynews.com.tr/article.php?enewsid=59840


Part 3 tommorrow.

click here http://www.hagiasophiablog.com/mainpage.html to sign petition to restore agia sophia and please spread this around


_________________
TURKISH ILLEGAL OCCUPIERS AND TURK BUTCHER TROOPS OUT OF CYPRUS

great link and great cause. . there should be more initiatives like this

Quote:

‘It took me 30 years to learn why Greek Cypriots did not kill us’


  The other Cyprus

  Part 3 of 4

  Dr. Mehmet Hasgüler, born in 1965 in the Karakol district of Magusa, is first introduced to the violence on the island when he was eight years old.

  Speaking about the time, Hasgüler says, ìKarakol was a very interesting suburb of Magusa. There were between 250 and 300 Turks there. I never saw a single Greek Cypriot in our neighborhood. We never left the place. We walked to school and back. There was a Greek Cypriot doctor and a nurse in the hospital. I formally met Greek Cypriots in 1996 in Britain. We were never taught to hate Greek Cypriots, unlike in the south, so it was nothing extraordinary. Makarios was the president at the time and the most important gift he gave Turks was to allow the broadcasting of a Turkish movie on state television every Friday. My father worked at the port, as did my grandfather. There, Greeks and Turks worked side by side. I would like to tell you a very interesting story. The mother of the labor minister of the time, Tassos Papadopoulos, and my father's grandmother were close friends. Papadopoulos was from Pasakköy. They helped my father to find a job. My father was very close to Greeks. He worked with them. When my father was 5 or 6 years old, he used to stay with a newly wed Greek Cypriot policeman used to stay in their house. Then, the tradition was for a child to keep the bride company when her husband was away. In those days, Cypriots, Turks or Greeks, never left brides alone at home at night. On July 20, 1974, the war came to us. My cousin died. She was a nurse. As she was helping a wounded person, she fell victim to a bomb. We moved to Magusa. There were two Greek Cypriot army divisions between us and the Magusa Castle. We had to pass them that night. My father was fighting at the front. AT around 9 or 10 p.m., me and two of my brothers passed the police station. I was holding my brothers' hand and was walking among a crowd of about 200. I asked my mother, ëWhy aren't they shooting at us?' I learned the answer to that question only in June of 2004, when I was an independent candidate for the European parliament. As I was on a campaign trail in the south, I was talking at a coffee shop in Magusa, former Magusa Commander Rtd. Gen Chakkas arrived. He told me, ëI gave the command not to shoot, but found myself in trouble for that.'î

  ìHe was retired and could not use his left arm. He told me it was him who had trained the EOKA militants in my father's hometown Pasaköy. History of Cyprus cannot be taught solely in the north or in the south. Sides need to come together to understand what happened.î

  Hasan Hasgüler, Mehmet Güler's father, talks about his fighting days. ìThe day Turkey's operation begun, Rauf Denktas¸ made an address. They said Turkish soldiers would be deployed firstly in Magusa. However, it didn't. Turks hung Turkish flags in front of their homes so that they could be seen from the sea. However, this only resulted in rocket fire from Greek Cypriot batteries. Our fighters responded with gunfire, while the civilians fled the region. As I was fighting, the civilians took shelter at the Magusa Castle.î

  

Lieutenant Alpay was a legend at Magusa castle:

  Hasan also explains why Greek Cypriots were unable to take the Magusa Castle. He summarizes his conclusion as a lack of courage. He also talks about the legendary commander of the castle, Lieutenant Alpay.

  ìHe was a Turkish Cypriot and was from Karakol. He had a jeep. He completed the military school. He cleared all the debris from the castle holes and use heavy artillery to repel Greek Cypriots. He constantly changed the location of the artillery.î

  38 year-old journalist Sami Özuslu, who lived in the village of Evdim in the southern province of Limasol when the coup to topple Makarios and Turkey's operation began, say about those days,î It was a medium sized Turkish village. I was six years old when it all happened. We gathered in my aunts home when the Turkish troops came. All of the men were at a undisclosed location, defending the village. There were regular announcements from the local mosque, calling on men to preserve their ammunition. ëEach bullet means one enemy,' it said. There was an attack against the village from the mountains. It was probably Aug. 16. I got out of home and a bullet whizzed right near my ear. I don't know if it was really a bullet or I was very scared and was imagining things, but I can still recall the sound. Later on an order was broadcast, calling on all to take what they could before evacuating the village. Us kids didn't know where we were going. Busses came and we got on one. It was a old one and took us to a British base.î

  

How a Greek ship silenced Baf Radio:

  Dr. Arif Albayrak from Baf was waiting for university examination results when the operation happened. ìWe didn't know how to use guns. We were not trained. Elder boys knew and were posted as guards all around the place. We took shelter at the Papatya Movie Theatre. The Gazi Baf Rido contacted a ship at the port and told them their location. We later learned that the ship was Greek. It bombarded the radio building. They later posted us to the city border. Me and three friends were hiding behind a stone wall. They gave me a gun and every now and then we fired at the general direction of Greek Cypriots. We had no commander of our own. They were sending rockets at us. Our ammunition soon ran out and we fled the scene. When I went to the headquarters, the commanders were complaining. I asked them to give us more ammunition. They were saying we were about to be defeated. I took a box of bullets and took off with my friends. We returned to the wall and suddenly bullets started to rain on us. I fell two meters down and took shelter. Night soon fell. We were hungry and tired. There was a small house 40 meters ahead and thought we saw someone entering it. We started shooting at the house. We later learned four bodies were found there. We were devastated. We weren't sure if we had killed them or not.î

  Albayrak's friend from the same neighborhood, Dolgun Dalg?ç, tells us what he went through near the sea when the Turkish operation began. ìWe were guarding the sea-side. We were told to stop any enemy encroachment. No one came. I didn't fire a single shot. We were next to a construction site. There was a rocket launcher there that used to fire at Greek Cypriot positions. When the Turkish operation began, it started to fire. Towards noon, a ship was seen near the port. We had a radio and it was telling us that the Kocatepe Cruiser was sunk. Some said the information was wrong and that was the ship. Our radio started to announce that the ship was Kocatepe and the rocket launcher was told to stop firing at it. Meanwhile, the ship was firing at somewhere close to the Greek Cypriot positions behind us. The radio is telling the ship to fire a bit towards the east. Suddenly, the radio building exploded and the Greek soldiers started to get off the ship in the port. They called us towards the back, but couldn't because the Greek Cypriot troops prevented us from evacuating our positions.î

  

Very close to being executed:

  Dalg?ç says they later surrendered to the U.N. forces on the island. ìWe surrendered our weapons. Others refused to do so, getting rid of them some other way. We were told no Greek Cypriot troops would come near us. We were placed in houses but suddenly, Greek Cypriot troops started to enter the houses. They started to execute the Turks who they believed were fighters. As they approached our house, I thought they were killing everyone. Dilaver Teg<breve>men, Erdog<breve>an Çak?r, Mustafa Çak?r, Hasan Kiral were some of those who were killed by Greek Cypriots.A few minutes later they arrived and took us outside. My mother started to scream. A Greek Cypriot soldier was about to shoot her but later decided against it. They got everyone on a soccer field. Women were gathered at one side and children and men on the other. They brought a machine gun and put it next to the field. They had all fought against Greeks. Suddenly one Greek officer arrived. Greek Cypriots asked whether Dilaver Teg<breve>men was with us. We said, ìHe fell.î The Greek officer was furious when he heard he was dead. He asked who had done it. He said: ëFind whoever did this and send them to the front. Those who want to see blood should go to the front.î He got rid of the machine gun.

  Dr. Arif Albayrak brings a Greek Cypriot dimension to the massacre that was avoided. After 30 years, he found a Greek Cypriot counterpart who could explain what happened.

  ìThey asked us to gather. There was confusion everywhere. There were also U.N. troops. They collected the Turks in a soccer field. I remember how much they shouted in Greek. There was a Greek word spoken that I still remember after 30 years. It was spoken between two Greek Cypriots. One was setting up the machine gun and the other was helping him. It took me 30 years to learn what it meant. One day, I went to Baf with a doctor friend of mine who works for Doctor for Cyprus. He also invited another doctor friend of his for lunch. The guy came and I told him what had happened all those years ago. He started to cry. I asked him what happened. He said the Greek Cypriot soldiers near the field were students. He said he was one of the soldiers. He said as the other soldier was setting up the machine gun, he had threatened to kill him if he fired on the civilians. The Greek Cypriot voice I heard all those years ago was ëStop, or I'll shoot,' and it had come from him.î I cried. We were guests at a television show in the south that made the news.î

  Dr. Hasan Adatas¸, who was 100 meters from the defense lines in Baf, says the Greek commander on the other side abided by the Geneva Conventions. ìHis grandfather was a Anatolian Greek. He told his grandchild not to treat Turks badly if he fought them. The people of Baf were happy with this commander. He later served in Muttalo.î

  43 year-old journalist Tayfun Çag<breve>ra, who works as a journalist in Nicosia, remembers nothing bad being said about Greek Cypriots at home. ìMy mother, grandmother and father never had anything bad to say about them. My father had a truck. He worked with both Greeks and Turks. He carried goods to Turkish and Greek villages. He had many Greek friends. When the coup took place on July 15, 1974, I was very young. Greek Cypriots took my elder brothers and father into custody. I was at home. They had left women and children at home. They kept them for three months at Limasol until the prisoner exchange. Those were hard times. We used to take food to the prisoners. A month later, we were moved to British bases.î

  Cypriots who became refugees talk differently about the matter of returning to their previous homes. Some have no one to return to, while others still long for the villages they spent their childhoods in. K?vanç Diren, who works as a doctor in Istanbul, says, ìThousands, apart from the dead and missing, moved to the north. Some of the young people who went to Turkey to study, stayed there. However, they all think about Cyprus. They all hope to return to their homes one day.î Safa Dalg?ç, who sent his son Dolgun north during the clashes in the back of a truck, says, ìAny return is impossible.î His wife, Fatma Dalg?ç, says, ìHe doesn't want to return, but I do. We used to be like brothers with Greek Cypriots. We used to drink coffee.î

  Hasan Adadas¸ says, ìWe lived through a lot but when one sees what lies beneath it all, one understands. Some ask how so many people could be deceived and forced to leave their homes. I took a friend of mine to Baf. When they saw how beautiful it is, they started to cry. Yes, we were pushed around so much that we abandoned heaven.î

  Dr. Akif Albayrak said makes a qualified answer to this question. ìSome see the matter as an issue of identity. The people of the region of Baf are different from the rest of the island. A Greek Cypriot friend of mine took me to a village where his parents lived up in the mountains. . It used to take my father four or five hours to go up to the mountains. It took us 20 minutes with a jeep. When we went there, I asked them whether they knew my father, who used to come to these parts. They said, ëIt is not Hanc? Ali, is it?' When they learned it was, they started to cry, and the father said, ëHe was my best friend. He used to stay with me when he came here.'î

http://www.turkishdailynews.com.tr/article.php?enewsid=59988

This is the last instalement and one with some very interesting insight

Quote:

Legendary commander of Cyprus resistance Tremeseli: Unification is inevitable


I?lkman, once at the forefront of Turkish Cypriot resistance, providing serious help to Turkish forces in 1974, now believes everyone needs to accept the fact that there is no enosis or division now, only unification
CEVDET AS¸KIN
ISTANBUL - TDN/Referans

  Part 4 of 4

  The other Cyprus

  Seventy-year-old Mehmet Ali I?lkman, aka Tremeseli, is one of the legendary commanders of the Turkish resistance movement. He was among those who organized resistance against the Greek Cypriot attacks even before officers sent by Turkey founded the Turkish Resistance Organization (TMT). He became famous after raiding a coffee shop in Nicosia frequented by National Organization of Cypriot Fighters (EOKA) militants in 1958. He personally photographed and surveyed all the land and port region of Girne and monitored the positions of the Greek Cypriot artillery for the two years leading up to the Turkish operation in 1974. This modest hero of '74 says that the reunification of Cyprus is inevitable and asks Turkey to accept this as a fact.

  While I?lkman was an inspirational leader of men and one of the many unsung heroes of the resistance movement, he has always kept his Greek Cypriot friends separate from the clashes that marred relations between the two communities.

  ìI was born in 1936 in Tremese. I was in Nicosia when the clashes first began in 1955. It began because Greek Cypriots wanted enosis with Greece: We totally opposed this,î said I?lkman, adding that they basically wanted independence, or in other words, ìTurkey wanted division, so we went along with it.î

  

Intimidation by Greek Cypriots:

  I?lkman says Greek Cypriots were trying to intimidate Turks in order to make them accept enosis. Speaking of an incident in which EOKA machine-gunned a bus, killing five Turks, he says: ìIt happened in the village of I?nönü, now called Sinde. EOKA members shot at a bus. It was a huge Turkish village. I?smet Sad?kog<breve>lu was there. They were trying to form a TMT organization in the village and that's why it was chosen as a target. EOKA chief [Georgios] Grivas personally ordered the attack.î

  The bus was full of port laborers, he says, and notes: ìThey used to go to Magusa Harbor every day. They (EOKA) carried out the attack in the morning and five people died. The community was very saddened. Until then, EOKA militants had been assassinating people one at a time. They had never committed such a massacre. From then on, people started to stay in their villages. No one went out. This was the biggest attack committed against us.î

  He says when he heard of the killings, he was in Tremese: ìI was furious and upset. We had to respond in kind. We had our own resistance movement before the TMT, which later encompassed the smaller ones. For example, our group was linked to six villages. I was the leader. There were many regional leaders around the island.î

  When asked about the aim of these groups, I?lkman said they just wanted to resist the Greek Cypriots. ìWe had no clear purpose. Turkey wasn't giving us weapons. They opposed us at first. In 1957, despite this continued opposition by Turkey, we knew the danger was near and started to organize ourselves. We knew what would happen soon.î

  He said they had some small arms, mostly handguns and a few machine guns. ìWe used to respond to Greek Cypriot attacks. The day the massacre happened, I thought of a way to scare the Greek Cypriots while providing a morale boost for the Turks. There was a coffee shop near the Küçükganali police station in Nicosia. It was an EOKA stronghold and there were soldiers there. I thought we should strike at them where they were the strongest in order to scare them. That's why we chose the coffee shop. I gave two people handguns and put them as guards and took a gun myself,î he explained.

  He traveled to the target in a car with fake number plates and got out 50 meters from the coffee shop. ìI had surveyed the area previously. It was early evening and they were sitting outside the shop. They saw me. I knew they were all well educated. To tell you the truth, I wanted to kill a lot of people. My plan was to kill at least 20,î I?lkman confessed.

  When the gunfire begun, everyone ran away, he said: ìI fired three times and then the gun jammed. They started running towards me. They had no guns. They threw hot coffee in my face. My face was burned. I fired three more times.î He believes his bullets hit at least five people but added: ìI don't know if they died. Still, it was a response.î

  When asked how he made his getaway, I?lkman said: ìThe British thought EOKA had raided the police station. They took shelter. They didn't leave. We had only three minutes to escape. That was our plan. We stayed there around five minutes, jeopardizing our escape. As we left, they started to fire on us from the station. We fled. All the streets were blocked but we were organized. We gave the guns to three people waiting just around the corner. We changed our license plate and went to our village without a problem.î

  He added that no one came looking for them after the incidents.

  

The republic established:

  I?lkman compares the founding of the Republic of Cyprus in 1960 to the birth of a stillborn baby. He says neither Greeks nor Turks were happy with the result. ìThat is a fact. No one was happy and both sides made things worse. I was a ëspecial forces' commander in Nicosia at the time, and the TMT commander of six villages. I defended the Literevaz region. My commanding officer was called Bayraktar, he commanded the entire island. I received my orders only from him.î

  I?lkman was made a commander in 1958. He said there were between 40 and 50 people in his team. Despite being involved in many clashes, he was never wounded. When asked what he did after the relative suspension of hostilities in 1964, I?lkman said: ìWe resurfaced from the underground. Our fight continued until 1974.î

  He was discharged from the TMT in 1967 and explained why: ìThey told us we were no longer needed because Turkish officers were coming. Turkey sent noncommissioned officers as senior to our commander. I refused to accept this. The truth was we were not wanted.î

  After working in various jobs, he joined the Turkish Intelligence Organization (MI?T), where he worked for 12 years.

  

Before 1974:

  I?lkman said that he, with two others, had surveyed all the land and sea approaches to Girne for two years prior to the Turkish operation in 1974.

  ìI never told anyone this before. We measured the sea depth. I used my uncle's boat to go all around the region to survey the sea floor and the beaches. We filmed the artillery batteries. I was ordered to do this. We were commanded by Gen. Fuat Dog<breve>u at the time. He was a wonderful person. He invited us to Ankara, where we stayed for a month,î he revealed.

  When asked if he was awarded a medal for his services, I?lkman said: ìNo. I am sure there are no records of what happened in those days. They must have erased our names by now.î

  Before the Turkish operation began, I?lkman and his brother were ordered to collect the supplies parachuted in and to place them in shelters, adding, ìWhen Girne was taken, we were ordered to bring the supplies inland.î

  

Living with Greek Cypriots:

  I?lkman believes when it comes to the matter of living with Greek Cypriots, the two sides should not deceive each other: ìI was never anti-Greek. I was against enosis. I fought to preserve my people. However, I had very good relations with Greek Cypriots. They were my childhood friends. These two issues are unrelated.î

  He says when the border was opened all of his friends in the Greek Cypriot side came to visit him. ìIt had been 32 years since I last saw them. When one came and couldn't find me, he started crying. His name was Fani. He is a member of the Progressive Party of the Working People of Cyprus (AKEL). We used to be close friends when we were teenagers. I was in Nicosia at the time. We had a cup of coffee and I took him to my home. There can always be war, by humanity should always be present,î he counseled.

  I?lkman, one of the unsung heroes of the Turkish Cypriot resistance, now says: ìUnification is inevitable. Turkey will eventually accept this. There is no enosis or division now. Unity is in the air, and that's a fact.î

http://www.turkishdailynews.com.tr/article.php?enewsid=60059