Living in Greek Cyprus, we have heard frequently about the ‘them’ and ‘they’ referring to those who occupy the Northern part of Nicosia and the island of Cyprus. This is particularly unsettling since the Academy has students from both sides of the divide (not border!). Well, after the OXI parade yesterday and a change of clothes, Marian and I made my first sojourn, her second, into Northern Nicosia.
At the divide, you go through a passport check but there is no stamping of the passport because they are not a legal country but they do make you fill out a form which they then stamp allowing you to enter.
While I was doing the processing, Marian, ever mindful of maps saw one for a walking tour of the city. There is a blue line painted on the edge of the sidewalk and sometimes in the narrower roads indicating where you are to follow to keep on the map’s journey.
It was only a few steps and you begin to realize that there is a difference here from the south side of the city - more garbage, more derelict buildings (some down right dangerous and ready to fall!), pigeons by the thousands, and but a few signs of renewal or rebirth! As I look down one alley, I see buildings which are characterized by that tired feeling which means they have no hope in life (yes, I am personifying here!) - usually coloured in a tone of grey-brown significant of death. On closer inspection I saw two little boys sitting in one of the doorways, and so, quietly approached to take a photo. Their clothes were the only spot of colour against the drab background but in that I saw a message - it is in the ‘thick darkness’ (Exodus 20) those situations in which hope seems to be virtually obliterated that there is always a glimmer that God can work miracles and he often does!
Our steps soon brought us to a stone plinth reminding us that this Venetian monument speaks to a historical conquest by the water-streeted city on the Italian coast! In fact the 11 starred walls which surround this city are of Venetian origin. Here at the obelisk there is a square where Turkish Cypriots hang out - sitting talking, watching the pigeon legions or just enjoying the spotty sunlight on the day of our visit. With the cooler weather (18º-24ºC) we find the walking much more comfortable!
Our blue line takes a jog and we find ourselves in a refurbished area which may have at one time been a beautiful garden but then was overbuilt with what we would call low income housing - almost like military barracks in orderly rows - small attached homes but now beautifully restored thanks to UN sponsorship. It is is a simple development, clean and somehow an oasis in a city which speaks another language to our eyes and ears.
As the line guides us back to the main route, we are beside an eating establishment which appears to be a fast food version of some local chain. Anyway, its busyness suggests to me that this is an acceptable establishment at which to grab a fresh circle of sesame seed encrusted bread with some local cheese. It is popped in the hot oven and emerges a minute later delicious! Shared food is one of the blessings which getting older allows you to enjoy without fear of losing out! We share this snack and are off down the street attracted by a small patisserie where some of the Turkish delicacies we enjoyed five years ago in Turkey are offered. With no currency for this side of the city, I place a Cypriot pound on the counter and ask how many pistachio squares I can receive. After a quick calculation I am told 4 and so again we share these small sweet offerings. But as we sit in the open air, Marian’s eyes catch a building across the street with four round domes and insists on exploring.
Although closed, we find it to be a museum which was the location of an ancient whirling dervish clan. Once again memories of Turkey fill our minds to fill in the gaps left by the closed museum. A few steps further along our blue line and we find ourselves at the wall again and this time see the Kyrenia gate which faces the Northern city by the same name. An ancient building has been converted into a Tourist Office but due to the time of our walk, was closed. Its structure, like so much in these ancient parts is build in different centuries as one conquering nation builds on the foundations built by predecessors. It is obvious as we look at this small building, that its location was more important than the architectural design - the square cube of a building surmounting original building from the 15th century testifies to more haste than good taste.
Our blue line guide takes us along the wall past buildings which indicate that any photos are prohibited - is this something military or special government area? The shops seem to be closing as residents throughout eastern Europe and the Middle East - we find ourselves in some strange conglomeration of the two - use Saturday as the beginning of preparations for a Sunday rest. But what is that I note ahead but smoke pouring profusely from the exhaust of Anibal’s restaurant. The cars parked nearby again signify that this is a popular place and my hunger suggests that another shared selection would be worthwhile.
On entry we see several lined up at the takeout style window and hang back waiting our turn. A waiter approaches me to ask if he can help but his command of English is so minimal that I ask if there is someone who speaks better English. In a few moments I see an older man who has been manning the grill come to the window and motion for me to step forward. Others, waiting long, seem to pull back to allow me entry to the man behind the counter. I ask if I can order a chicken shish-kebab and in return he asks what we want on it. We ask for everything meaning, salad or lettuce, parsley, onions, tomatoes, cucumber along with a piece of fresh lemon. It is ready within two minutes, and I have to confess before the orders of some of the others! Into the bag go two pitas with chicken pieces, two tubs of yogurt, two Pepsi’s and some napkins. I hand him 5 pounds and he seems satisfied.
As I turn to leave with Marian, we are motioned to sit at a table and enjoy our meal. Plates are brought and cutlery. We decided that one would be enough to share and that is what I had ordered but for some reason it had multiplied - five loves and two fish come to mind! As we split it and open one Pepsi, we find a plate of french fries arrive and as we finish our wonderful Turkish meal, two desserts arrive. Hospitality is so generous here that we stand in amazement! The owner of the restaurant comes out and asks how our meal was and we are so appreciative and he informs us that he has been in this business for 45 years. As we bid adieu, I tell him that I will return!
I am reminded of how stingy I have become - always looking at the cost before giving, instead of giving unto the Lord and allowing him to bless through what is given and to in turn give and it shall be given unto you, good measure, pressed down and overflowing shall be given unto you! Lord, forgive me! Give me an overflowing heart of giving and thankfulness so that as you have blessed me, I may bless others!
Selah.
The blue line has been waiting patiently and as we exit the restaurant, it is there running down the middle of a small road leading us into the centre of the city. As we meander through this warren nest of streets our hearts and minds are both shocked at the misery which is here but also the history which is being allowed to collapse for want of repair. We pass a newer mosque built in the shadow of ruins from some former one; past a doorway in which sits a little girl, pretty as any seen anywhere in the world. I take her picture and find out her name - what is her destiny in life? Around another corner, down a small street and there is some trickle of water running out from under that metal fence. Is it, or no, it can’t be, but it is tinged with blood. As I stop and look in through the half opened door, I see into a courtyard where the reason for the blood becomes apparent - butchering has taken place and the evening meal is going to be prepared.
Lord, I am reminded of the sacrifices of old not too far from here but which never gave forgiveness of sin. And then, to be replaced by that single sacrifice some two millennia ago - one which was sufficient to meet your righteous demands of purity, sinlessness, righteousness and holiness so that we stand forgiven through Christ today. Thank you for the reminder as we travel the blue line today!
Selah.
Here our guide has faded due to the incessant rubbing of car wheels on the paint and we wonder where we should go - ah yes, a small patch of blue in that direction, so off we go. Past more derelict buildings and a small square which opens to reveal a former church - now surrounded by barbed wire and surrendered to the decomposing effects of time. Jesus said, I will build my church and the gates of hell will not prevail against it! Lord, I am so glad that as I stand here and view this crumbling desecration of what was once a place of Christian worship, that this is not the church I am viewing but a tool of your true and vibrant body through which you continue to work in spite of the attempts to silence her and bring her down. Lord continue to build, continue to strengthen and most of all continue to give us a passion to live as we ought to live to be your Kingdom regardless of the church we attend!
Selah.
From either side of the divide in this great city, one cannot fail to see the overpowering presence of the dominating structure. It was the Church of St. Sophia, the oldest Christian church in the Middle East until it was taken over by the Ottomans and turned into a mosque with the surmounting of the church with two minarets which dwarf the rest of the church and carry flags blowing in the afternoon breeze reminding those near and far that this is Turkish Cyprus you are in. On entering, absent any footwear, one is immediately impressed with the immensity of this church and what it stood for in times past. But now, painted a stark white and all ornamentation removed the only thing attracting one’s attention is the run whose major lines seem to be oddly skewed in some misaligned direction. Somehow the east west orientation of the church has been twisted for some unknown reason. But as we walk on the deep carpets we soon come to realize that this is a mosque and must be oriented towards Mecca. The predominant lines in the carpet make sure that visitors who come to pray are facing this centre of faith. As I move past one of the gigantic pillars holding aloft the crisscrossed skeleton of arches which form the roof, I see the focal point of this mosque a brightly coloured, raised dais on which sits a white haired man and before whom are sitting three younger men. Are they students? Are they praying? One is obviously deep into the content of the Koran and I am reminded of what our Lord said, “You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” Lord, why are so many bound by this falsehood that masquerades as truth, only being able to influence belief because of its repressive and authoritarian dominance over followers? Lord, may your Holy Spirit bring sight to eyes which are blind, minds which are numb, and ears which are deaf to the TRUTH!
Selah.
We are getting tired as our blue line guide waits patiently for our return. We stop for a refreshing drink of orange juice and water and walk through an agora (market) where shops are still open but look as if they will soon close. We eye a stand selling fresh nuts and purchase some fresh walnuts which consumes some of the Turkish money we have been given in change. How much did it cost? Does it really matter, we are enjoying ourselves!
Through some more derelict areas, past some more mosques and then to turn a corner and hear the sound of weeping. Behind the open door sits an older woman wiping her eyes with a tissue and sobbing. The scene is one of contrasts as the beautiful potted plants which adorn the small entry and the black cat which rests peacefully on the door mat seem to be enjoying the world while the lady seems not to be, at all. What is the cause of grief? A husband’s recent passing; a child’s too soon death; a marriage broken by the entry of some other interest; or just the encroaching realization that life soon passes? Teach us to number our days!
Around the next corner one of the dust encrusted entries houses a young mother, pregnant with another child holding an infant of perhaps a year. I smile at the child and motion with my camera and and ask if I can take a picture. She smiles and turns to the child; I snap the picture - Madonna and child! The intricacy of her veil covering her head is what attracts my attentions - so fine, so detailed, speaking of her choice and concern for the welfare and details of life - even of the one she holds in her arms and womb! There is life in this run down, crumbling part of the city. Help me Lord to see with your eyes, hear with your ears, the cries for help which often lie behind the crumbling lives some live.
As our weariness and five hours with our guide the blue line, draw to a close, we are thankful! Thankful for the lessons the Lord has provided on this journey! May we learn never to be presumptuous with out position in life and to always give thanks for we are truly blessed!
David
posted by David & Marian Sloss @ 4:46 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home