9 August 2015, Sunday
A land where nothing is certain
Cyprus is a land where there is a constant and incessant drifting between present, past and future. Future is ambiguous, past is nostalgic. Time has a special connotation for habitants of this geography.
Where is home??? Trauma, memory, misery, displacement, sadness, melancholia … .An exhaustive list of words can go on illustrate the psyche of Cypriots. All stories reverberates the past, old neighborhoods, old neighbors, past lives, present worries, disturbance, discontent. Yearning to go back in time!!
Cyprus is a land where past dominates the present, past overshadows our vision into future. Land of despair and gloomy feelings. Unhappiness prevails where time stops and conquers our lives.. Time stops, re-starts, reshuffles, and re-defines the present.. Unmasking the long-present sorrows, damages, and dissatisfaction….
In a land where future is never vibrant, never crispy clear, blemished with uncertainty, and captured by irreversible destruction of frustration of people whose psyche is torn apart with division, displacement, traumas and NEVER found a way to speak out, scream express and RECOCILE..
Stories start from villages recalling merry and joyful moments of sharing, neighborhood. People commute to the fields irrespective of their nationality! Just to pick olives, fruits vegetables. Talking and sharing memories, times and laughter. Stories are sour and bitter now! Stories narrate times of family gatherings, driving to the beach and weekend getaways to Trodos.
Occasions- when in small villages jovial laughter echoes blissfully in good spirits.
Stories narrates times of Old Nicosia where neighbors gather for a informal evening chat seating around in the cobbled streets enveloped with scents of JASMINE FLOWERS!! Strolling in the streets where Armenian shop owners grin with a tranquil soul. Kids dwelling in the streets of old Nicosia with their Moms frequenting the Armenian shops to shop for BAYRAMLIK accompanied by the shades of palm trees. The mild breeze hits their face…
Our land in those times, in old times. Our Cyprus. Travelling back in time to seize the euphoric moments of joy… Our souls are always unsettled always restless. Our minds travel to Turkish District in Larnaca where people would sit under the bright sun gazing at the sea to Sahin Sinemasi where people would flock with snacks. Chattering and watching films in a breezy Limassol night!!
Remembering faces, bodies, people, relatives, names… Contemplation. Contemplation that those were the days they wish never ended.
Shifting minds souls can never unknot the darkness of the past. Barricading minds to sail into the future! Never unwrapped and shake off the sinister spirit of the past traumas. A divided land- where time just freezes, time elope with bitterness and nerve breaking agony.
Words will just be knotted never uttered on a parading bright future!
Words will express depression, desperation, and confined souls repressed minds which cannot CRY OUT to change the destiny of this island.
Our memories are filled with old, good, peaceful and unadulterated days when Cypriots coffee shops were buzzing with ecstatic chats, streets were subdued by exuberant scents of Spring flowers.. Children riding their bikes in narrow yet vibrant streets!
Time and Cyprus detains our minds, our souls, our memories our lives our living rooms our kitchens, our days… Past haunts on present traumatizing our existence, our hopes, our daydreams, our lives and minds… Past detains our existence as human sheltering us into a turbulent future.
Cyprus is where all these are in constant replication with no hints of mercy, no hints of elated JOY…