Cyprus

A few years ago, tennis-watchers got to see a star rising at the Australian Open as Marcos Baghdatis made it to the finals. Yes. I love poetry and tennis. Now, before Baghdatis could face off with Federer in the final (yes, Fed won—but it took him four sets) he had to get past Andy Roddick in the fourth round. Andy at that time had a squadron of girls in bikinis attending his games, while Marcos had what Roddick described as a band of “sweaty dudes.” Well, Baghdatis and his sweaty dudes were the winners on the day. I suppose the moral of the story is that having bikini-clad fans guarantees nothing. Commentators had some fun with the comment, largely because the Cypriots who were attending tennis events for the first time to support their compatriot were cheerful in accepting the characterisation. Please note: I’m not calling Cypriots sweaty dudes. I was delighted that, given the chance to show national pride, they showed up to watch a Cypriot play a sport they’d never given much thought to before.

So, we’re in the Mediterranean, celebrating the 1 October 1960 independence of Cyprus from the United Kingdom. Oh, and it’s the birthplace of Aphrodite and Adonis. Also, Pygmalion did a little sculpting here.

It’s been held by a few different people over the years—Britain had it’s first turn at the reigns way back in 1191 when Richard I captured it during the Third Crusade. Prior to that there was Assyrian, Egyptian and Persian rule, followed by Hellenization, annexation to the Roman Republic and integration into the Byzantine Empire. In the fifteenth century Venice took control before the Ottoman’s succeeded in capturing control. I’ve got to imagine that during certain eras living on an island in the Mediterranean must have encouraged one to wonder who was taking control next. Britain took over administration of the island in 1878, and it became a colony in 1925.

Following independence, violence broke out between the ethnic Greeks and Turks—with the “motherlands” of both groups getting in on the action. When Nikos Sampson was declared president in 1974 after a coup, he declared union with Greece. This prompted Turkey to respond by invading Cyprus. A third of the island came under Turkish occupation—Greek Cypriots in the north (who were in the majority) became refugees. The ceasefire line from 1974—referred to as the “Green Line”—still separates the communities on the island, and the Turkish occupied area calls itself the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus—this “state” is not recognised by any nation but Turkey.

More recently, the Committee on Missing Persons began the process of “Exhumation, Identification and Return of the Remains of Missing Persons.” At the end of last year 57 bodies had been identified and returned to their families. There are still over 2000 people missing as a result of the invasion.

The situation is not resolved: negotiations have been taking place on and off since 1964—ten years before Turkey invaded. Earlier this year, however, the Republic of Cyrpus demolished a wall that represented a division between north and south in the presence of officials from both sides.

Oh, and Nicosia is the capital, but Nicosia’s airport has been closed since the 1974 invasion. If you need to fly to Cyprus you’ll be coming into either Larnaca or Paphos.

Today’s poem from Cyprus is by Gür Genç. It comes, once again, from New European Poets. Enjoy!


I Worshipped Too Many Gods

1.

I worshipped too many gods, but
After the long winters in the North I know now
Sun, you are the most real!

     Ganged up with the Sea, in this
Arid paradise, what have you done
To the lost pieces of porcelain childhoods?

I’m back, and have little time, so tell me.

2.

The land, which gives seven, and takes nine
I’m back—against the proverbs
It’s arthritis accumulating in my joints

I’m asking you about those who hide in oblivion
And what hides buried inside you
And others dumped in the bottom of the well

Crossing over the limits of conditions
Overturning the towers of light onto thorny Mesaoria plains
And with the feeling of guilt

I’m back, and have little time, so tell me.

—Gür Genç
translated from the Turkish by Stephanos Stephanides
from New European Poets