The Broken Olive Branch: Nationalism, Ethnic Conflict, and the Quest for Peace in Cyprus: Volume One: The Impasse of Ethnonationalism

1. The Legacy of Nationalism and the Tragedy of Cyprus

The Legacy of Nationalism and the Tragedy of Cyprus first encounter with the cyprus problem A makeshift operation by today’s standards, my father’s cinema was a novelty that attracted audiences from both my home village and the surrounding areas; my mother was in charge of ticketing there. Of all the films shown, The Red Roses, a romantic drama, was the one that marked my memory for life. On the night of the premiere, my neighbor, his wife, and their adopted child were sitting two rows in front of me, on the righthand side of the theater. It was approximately half an hour into the film when I noticed the dark silhouettes of four men who walked into the cinema and sat immediately in front of me, in the row separating me from my neighbor. The romantic drama continued to unfold on the screen, captivating audience members as they were imaginatively transported to a world sweeter than their own. Unexpectedly, I noticed a slight commotion among the four men, as I had to peer between their heads to follow the film. Then, in one chorus of movement, they bent forward and pulled dark hoods over their heads that fully concealed their faces. Thereupon, in a flash, they stood up, extended their gun-bearing arms in the direction of my neighbor, and filled his body with bullets. The repeated rounds of deafening gunfire, and the screaming and commotion that ensued, immediately filled the cinema with terror and panic. The perpetrators rushed out of the cinema hurling hundreds of declaratory revolutionary leaflets into the air. What had occurred was a political assassination, one no different from the many taking place in Cyprus during the 1950s. I was just five years old 1 1 2 | The Impasse of Ethnonationalism when I witnessed this dreadful event. I was stunned—uncomprehending of what had just taken place in front of my eyes. My mother, fear-ridden over my safety, ran breathlessly to the scene, grabbed me by the hand, and forcibly dragged me out of the cinema through one of the exit doors that had been flung open. Some men took no time to carry the victim—still alive—out of the screening room, where they laid him on the floor of the foyer. He was bleeding badly. People shouted that someone should rush him to the hospital, but no one dared do so. It was common knowledge that anyone assisting the dying man would put his own life in jeopardy. The man just bled to death. Within minutes, British troops arrived on the scene. They promptly arrested my father, who had been the operator in the projection room, and my grandfather, who had been assisting my mother with ticketing. The officers took them to prison in the nearby city for questioning. The colonial authorities assumed that they were prime accomplices to the assassination . They released both my father and grandfather a few days later, however, upon determining that they had nothing to do with the killing. This was my first encounter with the complex historical and political realities that evolved into the now proverbial Cyprus problem. The victim’s name was Zanetos. He had been married for only a few years to his wife, Vathou, when he met with that awful death. Maria, their little girl, was a child that Zanetos and Vathou had adopted, as they could not have children of their own. To this day Maria carries a the scar of a bullet wound on her leg—a permanent reminder of the dreadful night when she lost her adoptive father. ThestreetinfrontofZanetos’shousehadbeenourregularplayground. Zanetos was an outspoken Communist who, ironically, had secured a job as an auxiliary police officer for the British colonial government. I remember him entering and exiting his house wearing his conspicuous police uniform. He would always walk by us with an air of pride and defiance. This attitude prevailed upon us as children. We felt as if we were invisible to him. The particular manner in which Zanetos had designed the exterior of his house was evidence of the excessive infusion of politics into daily life, so typical of the times. He had painted a huge image of the Communist scythe and sickle on the façade of his house. The Legacy of Nationalism and the Tragaedy of Cyprus | 3 His assassins were Greek Cypriots—right-wing, militant nationalists who had launched an armed struggle to...