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 Related Links:
 1. http://www.rizokarpason.com/politismos.htm
 2. 1974: Cyprus - 'a tragedy all round' 
 3. http://www.freewebs.com/greekcyprus/articles.htm
 

I was four years old when we left our Eftakomi village with the clothes on our backs and the tears in our eyes.

I went back 30 years later. Our first stop was the cemetery. My mother trying to find her father's unmarked grave, trying to remember the location her mother had told her about.

She held a bottle of holy water and both she and my father kept saying: if she was still alive she would know.

Unfortunately or fortunately my grandmother died in 2001 in the "free" Cyprus, two years before we were "allowed" to return to Eftakomi with a "visa".

We never found my grandfather's grave. My mother emptied the bottle of holy water everywhere she thought he might be and I tried to envision his smile as if he were alive asking him to guide me.

He was the life of the village. Everyone knew "ton Kroko". Stand-up comedian with an abundance of Turkish Cypriot friends. The barber who once made a soon to be groom bald just for a prank. Everyone loved him.

The second year we visited a Turkish Cypriot friend we encountered in the village came with us. We searched for the grave together and his eyes watered along with ours.

Again, the holy water sprinkled on the area we thought he might be and the Turkish friend telling us: "You sprinkle water too on the dead, just like us?"

Similar and the same we are Turkish Cypriots and Greek Cypriots, one face and one heart but yet the cemetery was even more devastated this summer. We couldn't see any more crosses on the graves, the few that were there the first year had disappeared, the tombstones had been broken and some moved as if the dead souls would go away if their monuments didn't exist.

 
 
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