The day Greek-Cypriot Ioannis Eliades ventured out to return to his church and his house in the village he and his family left when the Turkish troops invaded in 1974, began with a ritual. The ritual escaped Eliades' attention, as it did most residents of the island. They probably didn't hear about it until the end of the day, when it was dutifully reported on radio and television on both sides of the divided island, or they read about it in papers the next morning.
The ritual went like this: in the morning a small convoy of journalists arrived at the United Nations compound at the heart of the buffer zone that has separated North and South Cyprus for the past 35 years. They took up their camera positions amidst the surroundings of blasted houses and wrecked airplanes that are the relics of the 1974 Turkish invasion, itself a preemptive strike against a planned Greek-Cypriot take-over over the island, supported by the military junta in Athens.
The journalists were there to report on the ongoing reunification talks between Greek-Cypriot leader Dimitris Christófias and his Turkish-Cyrpiot counterpart Mehmet Ali Talat; the 53rd since September 2008. And they ended exactly the same way the 52 previous talks did: with no breakthrough, but a joint declaration in which both leaders expressed "cautious optimism" about the future.
Prerequisite for Turkey's EU bid
Time is ticking for the negotiators. In December the deadline expires for Turkey to open its ports and airspace to Cyprus, which has been a member of the European Union since 2004. Solving the 35-year-old conflict is one of the main prerequisites for Turkey's entry to the EU. April will also see elections on the Turkish side of the island, in which left-wing 'pro-solution' president Talat will likely be replaced by a conservative who doesn't believe in negotiations but cherishes the status quo.
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A trip with Ioannis Eliades to his birth place on the other side of the island revealed why the negotiations are progressing with such great difficulty. Eliades lives on the Greek side of the divided capital Nicosia. This is a thriving city where Giorgio Armani and Calvin Klein purses are sold next to cafes where Greeks sip their ice coffees. The Greek Cypriots have been living comfortably within the European Union for five years now.
Eliades runs the Byzantine Museum and Art Galleries. He also wages an emotional battle against the "occupier" on the other side of the island. He supports the lawsuit the Greek Orthodox church of Cyprus brought before the European Court of Human Rights last week. Turkish troops are obstructing the European right to freedom of religion, according to the church: because of the Turkish "occupation" Greek-Cypriots are unable to worship at the religious sites they left behind on the other side.
Crossing the border, however, has been possible for years. All Eliades has to do is get a stamp at one of the seven passages that cut through the green line. Physically, the division of the island has been made obsolete. But it is still very much in place in people's minds.
Travel like European citizens
Few Greek-Cypriots ever make it across the border. "Because I don't want to be a tourist in my own country," said Simos Angelides, a lawyer for the church that filed the lawsuit against the Turkish state. "I don't want to recognise the authority on the other side. The occupation of the northern part of the island is a violation of human rights."
The Turkish side of the island also has shopping streets with luxury stores, and cafes where Turkish-Cypriots drink their Turkish coffee. They are citizens of the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, a state that is only recognised by Turkey and is economically dependent on aid from Ankara. Since the Greek part became a member of the EU, 100,000 Turkish-Cypriots have applied for identity papers from the other side, the affluent Republic of Cyprus. The Turkish-Cypriot elite increasingly sends its children to English-language schools on the other side. Even if they live in a country unrecognised by anyone, with documents from the other side they can travel like European citizens.
Ioannis Eliades fell quiet as he drove into Nothern Cyprus for the first time since 1974. The statue of the founder of the Turkish Republic, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, and gigantic flags of his enemies filled him with disgust. "Look at them building here, on our land. This is my land," he said.
Afraid to knock on the door
Numerous court cases have been filed by Greek-Cypriots against the new owners of the land they abandoned in 1974. The European court mostly ruled in favour of them and even allowed Greek-Cypriots jurisdiction over all their possessions on the other side.
Eliades drove into Demirhan, his native village that was called Trachoni back in 1974. He passed by his old house on the Ecevit Caddesi, a street named after the Turkish prime minister who sent Turkish troops to Cyprus. He was afraid to knock on the door. He wanted to see the Saint Nicolas church first, the church where he was baptised. He saw the altar had been demolished, the walls were scribbled with graffiti, graves in the cemetery had been destroyed and bones protruded from the ground.
The roof of a 17th-century church in the next village has collapsed. The centuries-old frescos on the wall have been nearly wiped off by the rain and wind. Other churches have been made into mosques, stables or night clubs. "This is very painful," said Eliades. "Why are they letting this happen?"
The Turkish-Cypriot president Talat, in Lefkosa, the name for the Turkish side of the capital, said the moment the orthodox church chose for its lawsuit was no coincidence. "The church wants to delay our negotiations. It is a given the church leaders don't want a solution."
The church in 2004 conducted a campaign against a plan for reunification drawn up under the supervision of then UN secretary general Kofi Annan. The archbishop referred to it as "satanic".
Shortly after Cyprus' accession to the EU, a large majority of Greek-Cypriots voted against the Annan plan in a referendum. The Turkish-Cypriots voted in favour. "But both sides are comfortable with the current status quo, there is no dire necessity for reunification," said Turkish-Cypriot human rights lawyer Emine Erk.
Reform-minded leaders in office
And yet the conditions for a solution have never been better. The leaders on both sides of the island, Christófias and Talat, have the same left-wing political background and have known each other for years. Reform-minded leaders hold office in both Ankara and Athens. But as long as the identity of the one part is defined by hating the other, the status quo is easier to sell than enforcing a settlement where both parties have to give in.
Eliades knocked on the door of 9 Ecevit Caddesi. An old woman opened the door, but hid immediately. Her son Olgan Sener stumbled to the door, his foot bandaged. "Come in," he said. Ioannis Eliades stepped into his old bedroom. He ran his fingers over the window frame below which his bed used to be. He felt the old latches on the garden doors. "These were always open in summer," he said. He pointed to the porch chair where the old woman was sitting. "My grandfather used to sit there."
He turned to Olgan Sener. "I would like to have my old house back," he said. The Turkish-Cypriot nodded; he understood. "I would love to have my old house that is on your side back." Ioannis Eliades nodded; he too understood.
"Coffee?" Sener asked. Eliades declined: "I'm not feeling too well." It was getting late. He wanted to return to the other side.



