For 50 years, Cyprus has been split in two by a military border, the constant reminder of a deadly conflict that has never been resolved.
The island, visited by more than a million Brits each year, is famed for its crystal clear waters, pristine beaches and rich culture, but the tiny country in the Mediterranean has a bloody history which provokes strong emotion to this day.
“We are lost souls,” Greek Cypriot Mario Pischiris says. He was just a boy when war broke out in Cyprus on 20 July, 1974 – exactly 50 years ago.
He was forced to flee with his mother and brother.
Now 53 and living in London, the unsettled conflict in the country where he was born remains an emotional subject, as it does for thousands of Greek and Turkish Cypriots worldwide.
Turkish Cypriot Kenan Denizkan says the days after the 1974 conflict broke out were “the darkest week in the history of our island”.
For some, today’s 50th anniversary of the conflict is a painful one, for others it is a reason for celebration.
A man rides his bicycle outside the Panagia Faneromeni church in Nicosia. Pic: Reuters
What happened in Cyprus?
Cyprus was under British rule for nearly 100 years before gaining independence in 1960. Turkey, Britain and Greece were named guarantors of the island’s sovereignty with rights to intervene if there was a breakdown of constitutional order.
During the first few years of independence, the Greek and Turkish Cypriots participated in power sharing but in 1963 a dispute left Greek Cypriots effectively running the country.
A popular Cypriot snack shared by both cultures
Turkish landing craft off the coast of Kyrenia on 20 July 1974. Pic: AP
Violence erupted in December 1963, prompting the dispatch of a UN peacekeeping force to the island.
On 20 July 1974, Turkey sent warships and troops to Cyprus after the military government in mainland Greece staged a coup and toppled the legitimate island government.
Hundreds died in the subsequent fighting and the conflict led to the division of the island between the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus and the Greek Cypriot Republic of Cyprus.
To this day the island remains divided by a secure border with often lengthy queues for a passport check at the various checkpoints.
The capital, Nicosia, is the only divided capital city in the world.
A flag of Cyprus in Ayia Napa – a holiday spot popular with partying tourists
“Essentially what we saw is the division of the communities, not just the division of the island,” says author James Ker-Lindsay, an expert on Cyprus and Greek-Turkish relations.
Over the ensuing decades there have been multiple attempts to reach a peace deal, with some arguing for unification and others for a two-state solution, whereby the island would remain divided but each side would govern their own part and the Turkish side would be internationally recognised.
But no such agreement has ever been reached.
A Cyprus Airways passenger jet stands in the abandoned Nicosia International Airport. Pic: Reuters
What’s the situation now?
The Turkish side of Cyprus, around 34% of the island, is not internationally recognised and the only direct flights are to and from Turkey.
Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus flag (L) with Turkish flag (R)
Although it has been years since there was any violence between the two sides, 30,000 Turkish troops remain in the north and both sides have security concerns.
As many as 250,000 people – both Greek and Turkish Cypriots – were displaced by the fighting and many have been unable to return to their homes on either side of the border.
Tensions exist over things like wider politics and security.
Halloumi – or Hellim – has been a source of contention. Pic: AP
The unresolved conflict also presents issues in perhaps unexpected areas, like exports of Cyprus’ famous squeaky cheese: halloumi – or hellim.
For many years, Turkish Cypriots could not sell their hellim in Europe, unlike their Greek Cypriot counterparts across the border.
Although the island is divided and for many years it was difficult to cross, nowadays the borders are always busy with Greeks and Turks crossing over.
With a plummeting Turkish Lira, Greeks cross to fill up their tanks because of cheaper fuel prices, and to gamble in the many casinos. Turks cross the border to shop and sometimes to access better healthcare, as well as to travel out of the country from Larnaca International Airport.
A guard tower inside the UN-controlled buffer zone in Nicosia. Pic: AP
Of course, both groups also cross the borders to socialise with their Greek and Turkish Cypriot friends, and to visit their old villages.
“There’s a lot more engagement between the two communities [nowadays], it’s not a rarity anymore,” Mr Ker-Lindsay says.
However, there is still a “significant proportion” of the Greek Cypriots who refuse to cross, he says.
“They take the position that they aren’t going to show their passport or an identity document in their own country.”
But the two communities share many cultural things – food, for instance.
Greek and Turkish Cypriots both enjoy a popular street food-style snack of deep-fried bulgur wheat with a mince meat filling, for example, but in the south you’d ask for koupes – while in the north it’s bulgur kofte, with lamb, rather than pork.
Greek Cypriots generally follow the Greek Orthodox Church while Turkish Cypriots follow Islam.
‘We are a divided country and divided nation’
Mario still has the suitcase his mother used when they and his little brother fled the Turkish military in 1974. They were Greek Cypriots living in the village of Komi Kebir in what is now the Turkish side.
“My first memories of life as a three-year-old was to see trauma at the highest level. Everyone was fearing for their lives,” he says. “People were being ushered out of their homes.”
“My dad had to stay and fight, so we didn’t know what was going to happen to him.”
Mario Pischiris with the suitcase his mother took when they left Cyprus
At the Cypriot Community Centre in London, a deliberately bipartisan initiative, both Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots come together to enjoy their shared culture.
It’s frequented by many of the thousands of people who fled the conflict and settled in north London, and their descendants.
For Mario and his family, the area made sense as a destination because his grandparents ran a restaurant in Islington that was popular with the Greek Cypriot community.
Mario says the happiest moment of his young life was when, some months later, his father walked into the restaurant whistling a little tune.
Mario with his mother and brother on the balcony of their former home in Komi Kebir
“My parents had nothing, they literally had nothing. And I always felt a sense of responsibility to try and fix that.”
His family home in the northern side still stands, but he has never been able to move back, he says.
Mario is reflective when it comes to blame. He thinks if you asked a consensus of the Greek Cypriot refugees who came to London in 1974, there wouldn’t be a lot of bitterness towards Turkish Cypriots.
“When you were in Cyprus at the time [before the conflict] you were co-living with Turkish Cypriots and you knew it wasn’t their fault. They didn’t want any of that… remember, they lost their homes.”
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Kenan Denizkan with Greek Cypriot friends, before fighting broke out
Kenan Denizkan is from a Turkish Cypriot family and was 14 years old when the 1974 conflict broke out.
His family had been living in Limassol (modern day Republic of Cyprus) and says that due to the division of the country they had to cross into the Turkish side and settled in Kyrenia – Girne as it’s called in the north.
“The people who lived on the island were not the ones to decide about our future,” he says. “It was always our motherlands: Greece and Turkey.”
After living in Turkey and working as a cargo ship captain for 20 years, Kenan moved to London for a while and now lives in Northern Cyprus once again where he works to preserve the green space around where he lives.
“We are a divided country and divided nation,” he says, adding that he would like to see his homeland unified once again.
“Unfortunately I am coming to an age that I am really concerned about my grandchildren, that they will never see this country the way I wanted to see it,” he says.
“I am not celebrating and I do not want to remember it,” he says.
“If half of the country is crying and the other half is celebrating, this is not celebration.”
Turkish troops on the frontline on 25 July, 1974. Pic: AP
Another Kenan, Kenan Nafi, is chairman of the CTCA, an organisation that brings together various associations in the UK’s Turkish Cypriot community.
For him, today marks “50 years of peace” since Turkish soldiers arrived in 1974 and a time for celebration.
“This was intervention, not invasion. Turkey had the right to unilaterally intervene to defend Turkish Cypriots… that’s exactly what they did,” he says, arguing that there would still be unrest today if this had not happened.
He says it was a trauma which affected both communities which in 50 years have not recovered.
He also talks about what he calls the oppression of Turkish Cypriots.
“They don’t even have the right to internationally represent their country on basic human rights like sports… We don’t have the right to directly travel to our country.
“We need to sit down – two-state solution.
“The world is evolved, the world is changed. They need to realise human beings have the right to live freely in their country.”
While there is a split between those who want to remain divided and those who don’t, each side shares one enduring feeling – a love of the island.