Why the Turks crossed the Sea
Today at 5:29 am, I was still awake searching
for books on Amazon. And suddenly I heard the air raid sirens. They were
sounding for a minute. No war happened today, but on this day at 05:30 am,
Turkey invaded Cyprus 42 years ago (1974) with the wretched excuse of
protecting the Turkish Cypriots, Yeah right; protecting innocent Turkish
Cypriots by killing innocent Greek Cypriots. This ain’t a peace
operation a.k.a. "Cyprus Peace Operation" or in Turkish (Kıbrıs Barış Harekâtı)
A woman in her late 80’s lives opposite my
house. Her son is STILL missing. He was no more than 19 years old when he was
fighting the Turks. . . .
I’m not a historian or a political analyst but
the British in the 50’s began distilling discord between Greek and Turkish
Cypriots, then they gave us a shared-tricky-trap-like republic in 1959 and four
years later (1963) the intercommunal troubles began. In 1967 there was a coup
in Greece and with the blessing of CIA they led a coup in Cyprus as well, on
the 15th of July 1974.
5 days later (20th July) Turkey invaded. So this is the
reason why I fear the word nation and its derivatives: nationalist,
nationalism, &c. There’s a poem on page 60 in my 2nd poetrycollection (Eight Birds and Other Poems)
that talks about nation-
I fear the word nation
I fear the word nation.
I don’t hate my nation.
But loving a nation might lead to
loving it too much.
Nationalism is a word to describe that.
In German it sounds like Nazi
Nationalismus
It’s not love of your country
It’s to hate the outsiders
Patriotism is a safer word
But still you have to treat it with caution
My country is not superior.
It’s special but not the best
My sandy language is one of the most important
But not the best and most ancient
I love my country but I’m not a patriot
I love my country but I’m not a nationalist
I’m not superior to anyone.
08:38 26/01/15
Reading it more than a year later it feels
juvenile and a bit naïve. But the ideas are genuine; but I might disavowed it
when I grow older just like what C. P. Cavafy did with many of his poems. Greek
poet Cavafy was a good friend with English novelist E. M. Forster. Forster knew
Cavafy personally and he wrote a memoir of him. Both homosexuals. . .
Anyway. . . It seems I’m taking the subject
elsewhere. The subject(s) here (do we actually have a subject here anyway?) is
poetry, nationalism, Turkish invasion in Cyprus on this day. . .
I was a soldier for 2 years (2005-2007) (wasn’t
writing poetry back then), and every day every hour we were observing every
move of the Turkish occupying army. I was handling top secret documents in my
own office with Bob Marley as background music. Bob Marley is pretty well
appreciated in the Cypriot army (both for his songs and his smoking habits) haven’t
smoke myself but inhaled as a bystander a few times.
At the BFBS radio (British Forces Broadcasting
Service) which serves the British Bases here in Cyprus as well) a few days ago they
were having a discussion about coups in the 20th century, for about
an hour. Didn’t mention anything about the coup in Cyprus. I felt pretty
insignificant. British in Cyprus
talking in British English, but no
mentioning of Cyprus. Get out from Cyprus! Well that was pretty spontaneous,
but think about it a little bit. The island of Cyprus is controlled by 4
different nations/authorities. The only (legitimate) Republic of Cyprus 59%
(effective), 97% (de jure). The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus 36.3% (de
facto, unrecognised, don’t visit). The British Sovereign Bases 2.8% (occupying
two breath-taking areas of southern Cyprus), and the UN buffer zone 4%. We are
a bloody fragmented shambles. BUT
despite all this we are far safer than any ‘peaceful’ continental European
country nowadays. In my hometown the last time someone was murdered was in the
1920’s He was my great-great grandfather. The last time there was a robbery was
more than 10 years ago and that not at a bank.
Enough with my rambling, I will thank my friend The Shark Fisherman of Wales for hosting me for the 2nd time and I’d like to share a poem
from my unpublished (untitled) collection (due to be published on my 30th
birthday in August next year).
Disclaimer: This collection is still a draft, so expect spelling/grammar errors.
Deflation
You wake up,
Thinking,
“This is gonna be a great day!”
Then you see the news and your jocundity is deflated,
Like a forgotten ballοon from a birthday party which
happened weeks ago.
You see the news and your mood is deflated,
Like the tits of an old hag or beldam; depends which one you see.
You see the news and your cheerfulness is deflated,
Like a deflated cactus because of bacterial rot; something like
organised religion.
You see the news and your mirth
Is deflated rotten and buried
under the earth
You turn off the news.
You go to sleep.
And you hope to see,
You hope to see,
You hope to
You hope. . .
15:05 17/07/16
.jfif)
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