Frozen Cypriots: the trapped diaspora?

ALIX NORMAN meets a group of people who live firmly in Cyprus’ golden past, and asks why their memories of an island long gone are still so precious

These are the people for whom Cyprus exists only in the past; those who have loved and left the country. For them, this island will forever be a place of warm welcomes and home-cooked feasts. In their memories, cypress-edged villages bake in the vine-strewn foothills, and laughter hangs lightly in the evening air.

“It’s an overly nostalgic view of Cyprus,” says Eren Erdogan. “We’re not deluded! We know the island has experienced terrible troubles, and that life has changed drastically over the years. But instead of focusing on the difficulties, we would rather look at the beauty, the wonder that was Cyprus’ past. In a way, we prefer to remain trapped in time, forever living the glories of a long-gone era. We are the Frozen Cypriots.”

67-year-old Eren is referring to the Facebook page of the same name, a page he founded in 2013 as an antidote to the many, politicised groups on social media.

“10 years ago, there were already hundreds of online communities dedicated to Cyprus’ past. Many were very valuable, repositories of history and knowledge. But all too often they became bogged down in the island’s political agenda – members fighting over who once did what to whom and why. I wanted something different, a group that would celebrate our deep love of our country; a group that would recognise, appreciate and immortalise all that was good in the island’s past.”

With Frozen Cypriots, Eren has done just that, attracting nearly 16,000 like-minded individuals with a unique mix of past stories and old photos. In this group, which includes members from as far away as Argentina, Finland and India, he has created a community that celebrates a Cyprus that no longer exists. Except in memory.

“We are the people who were born here and moved away, or who lived here for a time and fell in love with the island. We are those whose parents hail from a place they have visited perhaps only once, or who fondly recall summer holidays spent in their family village. We are the diaspora,” he adds. “The Cypriophiles. And each of us has a unique story to tell about the island that holds our hearts…”

Eren himself left Cyprus as a 16-year-old packed aboard a flight to the furthest reaches of the globe. “I grew up in Government House,” he recalls, “my dad was the groundskeeper for what has since become the Presidential Palace.”

Eren’s father worked for Governor Harding and then Governor Foot – “he had a terribly yappy dog that used to snap at my ankles!” – and then for Makarios. “I remember when he moved into the Palace. He loved the gardens, I would often see him among the roses. He picked me up once, and spoke to me in Turkish; I liked him, he had a kindness to him, and a willing smile. Not long after, there were attempts on his life and, to keep my family safe, he moved my father to a job at the botanical gardens opposite the hospital.”

As the troubles accelerated, Eren’s elder brother was sent away “to Australia. The understanding was that he would work, make money and pay for tickets for me and my sister. And so, at the age of 16, I bade goodbye to all I had ever known and boarded a one-way flight to Melbourne…”

More than half a century later, Eren well remembers the shock of being a stranger in a strange land. “Everything was different in Australia: the birds sounded wrong, the trees looked alien, the smells were unfamiliar. Even football had different rules!” he chuckles. “And the only place that had olive oil was the pharmacy: the local women used it to lengthen their daughters’ eyelashes. The pharmacist thought it was hilarious we put it on our salads!”

Over time, Australia became home to Eren. “Like so many others, I found a job, took night courses, and eventually started my own business. It’s the story of emigrants everywhere, isn’t it? We leave to make a better life, but we never forget the land of our heart.

“And Cyprus has such a strong pull,” he adds. “Even those who weren’t born on the island – people who lived there for a short time or visited it briefly – still feel its magic years later. Like Wanda Forrest, our admin who specialises in helping with enquiries into genealogy,” he explains. “She’s based in the UK, but has visited Cyprus many times and has family on the island. And London-based Tina Kemran, who is half British and half Cypriot, is our expert on Cyprus of the 30s, 40s and 50s.

“Ismail Veli, born in Louroujina close to Lympia and now living in Britain, is another of our admins,” says Eren. “He’s been with us since the beginning as our text and photo whiz; he’s uploaded and posted thousands of old photos from past eras. And Max Arif, our latest addition, hails from Mora village but came to Australia in the early 60s. His passion for Cyprus is unmatched! In fact, only one of our admins, Emilia Nicola, is actually in Cyprus,” Eren adds. “Our resident food and culture aficionado, she’s incredibly generous in sharing her time and immense expertise to ensure the page runs smoothly.”

Together, the six administrators help people worldwide trace their ancestors, find current family, and learn more about the history of Cyprus. “We’re celebrating memory, linking people to their heritage or reminding them why they love this island,” Eren concludes. “It’s certainly not political in any way; we don’t allow that. Instead, we’re here to talk about the good old days.

“Yes, to an extent, it’s idealised nostalgia – frozen memories if you will. But that doesn’t make what we’re doing any less precious. Actually, I think it makes our group more valuable: the Cyprus of today seems to be one huge concrete jungle filled with self-absorbed people. Surely it’s beneficial to recollect the good in our island’s past, and build on it together for the future?”

For more information, visit the Facebook page ‘Frozen Cypriots’