David Whitley crosses the UN-controlled Green Line in Nicosia, Cyprus, to discover the different worlds of the Greek south and Turkish north.
UN buffer zone
The staircase of the crumbling, near-derelict building is inhabited only by a little kitten, which makes its way down gingerly, blissfully unaware of the home’s sad history.
The building is part of the UN buffer zone between the north and south of Nicosia – the world’s only divided capital city. In the past, much of this thin strip across the city was prime real estate; the big houses where the richer Cypriots lived. Now it is forever 1974, aside from the odd armed soldier walking through.
Coups and invasions
1974 was the year that Cyprus’s tragic blame game started. A Greek-sponsored coup was swiftly followed by a Turkish invasion, and the island became divided (or ‘occupied’ if you’re a Greek Cypriot). Years of political posturing and ruinous rhetoric further deepened the divide, reducing a once harmonious mix of Greek and Turkish people to mistrusting, oppositional forces.
The UN’s ‘Green Line’ across Nicosia is the ultimate symbol of this split, but there is finally hope on the horizon. Walking along the line – past the military oil barrels, checkpoints and barbed wire – and staring into the past is a fascinatingly eerie experience. But if progress continues to be made, it may not be available in a few years’ time.
2008 developments
2008 has seen major developments. First came the February election of Dimitris Christofias as president of the internationally recognised Republic of Cyprus (the southern part). In contrast to the more belligerent previous incumbent, Tassos Papadopoulos, Christofias’s communist government has made looking for a solution to ‘The Cyprus Problem’ a key priority.
The language has shifted from blame-laying to peacemaking too. The government’s spokesman Stefanos Stephanou says: “One of the sicknesses is referring to the past. Politicians have preferred to look for the responsibility of the others. Hard-liners on both sides created problems. Not anymore.
“The two communities have made a lot of mistakes and crimes in the past. We have to recognise those mistakes and crimes and try to move forwards.”
Nicosia crossing
The second major move came shortly afterwards, when a crossing within Nicosia’s remarkable flower-shaped city walls opened up for the first time in 34 years.
Other crossings of the island-wide buffer zone have been open since 2003, when many Cypriots returned to their home towns for the first time in three decades, but the new one at Ledra Street offers a clearly visible glimpse of what might be.
The streets either side end in barriers, with perhaps a dismal bar or two, or a row of dusty workshops. Ledra Street, however, is booming. On the southern side, there are cafes and stylish clothing stores; the marks of a thoroughly modern European city.
The stroll past the police checkpoint and thoroughly bored-looking border guards leads to the Turkish take on things. Souvenir stalls, bars selling Turkish beers and an Eastern flavour dominate, but the pedestrianised strip is clearly rejuvenated and awash with money. The lesson hasn’t been lost on the people; removing a barrier that has kept a generation apart has led to instant prosperity. How far could Cyprus go if the rest of the Green Line came down?
Turkish-controlled northern Nicosia
The northern side of the city is probably more interesting from a tourist’s perspective. There are far fewer multinational chains, and the buildings are more inspiring. The Selimiye Mosque dominates the city’s skyline, even from the other side of the buffer zone, while the markets have a bazaar-like feel.
Best of all is the Büyük Han, the grand old Ottoman inn from 1572. It has a castle-like look, but the huge courtyard amongst the archways has now been turned into a bustling collection of cafes, arty workshops and stalls selling traditionally made handicrafts.
The most interesting part of the city walls is also here. The Roccas Bastion is dominated by a rather stark-looking park and children’s playground. From the battlements, you look out over watchtowers, the hotel where the UN forces base themselves and a desperately sad, unkempt football pitch. It also backs onto the thinnest part of the Green Line, and from the barricaded end, you can look out eyeball to eyeball with someone on the southern side. For many years, this was the closest the two communities got.
The future for Cyprus
There are still problems ahead for Nicosia and Cyprus as whole. Issues of Turkish troops, Turkish settlers from the mainland and property rights are still major sticking points, but there is a definite air of hope on both sides of the divide.
European money is pumping in, renewed energy is being devoted to communication between the two communities and many Turkish Cypriots now work on the ‘Greek’ side without batting an eyelid.
Elena Mayrou, the mayor of Nicosia says co-operation between the two halves of the city has become much easier. Things such as sewerage and town planning – and even a rogue invasion of mosquitoes last year – are being dealt with bi-communally. And, like many Cypriots, she doesn’t manage to conceal her yearning for a reunited island all that well.
“The hope of reunification is alive,” she says. “But people have to learn to live together again and this is not an easy process.
“However, the opening of the crossing at Ledra Street is a positive, concrete example of how people can benefit from reunification.”
Details
To get to Cyprus from Australia, it is necessary to transfer via a major European hub, such as Athens. Flights go into Larnaca, which is approximately a 40 minute drive south-west of Nicosia.
Be aware that photography of the Green Line is strictly prohibited, unless permission is obtained in advance.
The writer was a guest of the Cyprus Tourism Organisation.
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN FOR AUSTRALIAN ASSOCIATED PRESS.
