PUBLISHED BEFORE SUNDAY
Tomorrow (Sunday), the war sirens will go off at 5.30am to mark the first wave of the Turkish invasion in 1974. For many of you, it will be a distant sound, but for us in the area of Vergina – which is near to an army camp – it will be blaringly loud, almost as though it is outside my front door.
As the daughter of someone who fought in that war at the tender age of 19 - and has been haunted by it ever since - I am no stranger to the history and pain, so I am not against marking the date in some way. But whenever those sirens go off, I think about the people who are not aware of what they symbolise and how frightened they must feel, as well as my young children who will be shocked awake by the harsh sound at that early hour.
For many tourists who already arrive in Cyprus thinking that the conflict could be reignited at any second, the sound of unexpected war sirens must make them jump out of their skin, unless they are very distant and can be passed off as an emergency vehicle. Every time I hear the chilling sound, I imagine the panic that must set in and wonder if there is enough information out there explaining and preparing visitors. For that matter, is there enough information for visitors about the situation in general, other than thinking that 'the Greeks and Turks don't like each other'?
The sirens are also a stark reminder that although the staus quo of the invasion remains, the two sides are in a stalemate rather than a conflict and that it could easily have been a different situation when you look at Israel and Palestine and their ongoing violence and bloodshed. We are not 'lucky' and our situation is tragic, but on the other hand, we ARE 'lucky' that 40 years on there are not militant groups on either side staging terrorist acts. For all intents and purposes, life in Cyprus is peaceful – at least on a daily basis and on the surface - which in this day and age is something quite extraordinary considering the situation.
Sadly, due to the long, drawn-out nature of the occupation, the generations who were and are most affected will start to dwindle, and the younger generations will only know the island as it is. And with the bigger variety and number of foreigners calling the island their home; many of whom do not know or are not particularly interested in knowing the history – evidenced by their love of taking holidays in the north - there won't be many left who care. And this might be the biggest tragedy of all.
So, I guess however inconvenient the sirens may be, they might be the only thing left that will remind people that our situation is by no means fair and that it shouldn't be considered the norm. At least with the sirens, people who know what they symbolise cannot fail to hear them and be reminded, and those who do not, will always ask why.
First appeared in The Cyprus Weekly, 19/07/14
