Sofulla ve ben.

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Sofulla and I.

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Çok uzak geçmişimde kalan, ama, bana, unutamadığım birçok hatıralarımı anımsatan bir resim

İsmim Fatma Şanalan. Eski komşularim beni eski adım Fatma Gezzu olarak bilir. Lurucina'nın bu mahallesinde doğdum ve halen bu mahallede ömür tükedirim. 1957 yılına kadar altı Rum komşum vardı. Rum komşularımızla aramızdan su sızmazdı. Arkadaş ve birlik içinde idik. Sadece içtiğimiz su ayrı giderdi. Bir günden bir güne aramızdaki su hiç bulanmadı. Ben hergün onların evlerine onlar da bizim eve gelirdi. Biz onların düğünlerine onlar da bizim düğünlerimize gelirlerdi. Kardeş gibiydik. Onlar hasta olsalar veya üzüntüleri olsa biz de onlarla birlikte yürekten üzülür, kendilerini teselliye giderdik. Onlara yardımcı olmak isterdik. Onlar da bizlere karşı ayni duyguları taşırdı.

En yakın komşum Miriathi adında birisi idi. Kocasının adı Theori idi. Üç kızları vardı. Kızları yetişkin olduğundan başka köylere gelin gitmişlerdi. Diğer yakın komşum ise Maritsa. Kocası Andrikko. Sofulla adında bir kızları ile  Mihali ve Theori adında iki oğulları vardı. 1956 yılında bunlar birer küçük çocuktu.

Bana Tanrı çocuk vermediğinden bu çocukları kendi çocuklarımmış gibi severdim. Ayrıca mahallemizin en küçük cocukları da bu çocuklardı.

Ben güzel macun yapmada ustaydım. Onlara macun vererek sevindirmekten büyük mutluluk duyardım. Arı balım hiç eksik olmazdı. Bir gün Sofulla hasta oldu. Kızamık olmuştu. hastalığına iyi gelir diye duyar duymaz hemen ona macun ile arı balı götürdüm. Kızamığa tatlı ve bal gibi gıdalar iyi gelir diye bilinirdi bizim buralarda. Ona yine bal götürmeye gittiğim bir gündü hastalığı sırasında. Baktım ki evlerinde bir de fotoğrafçı var. Kimlik kartı için fotoğraf çekilecekti. Bu fırsattan istifade, Sofullayı yanıma alarak birlikte fotoğraf çektirdik. Yukarıdaki resimde yanımda duran çocuk işte size sözünü ettigim Sofulladır. 

O yıllarda, Kıbrısın çeşitli yerlerinde Rumlar ve Türkler arasında çatışmalar başlamıştı. Rum komşularım korku içinde idiler. Köyde azınlık durumunda idiler. Onlara köyü terk etmeleri gerektiği söylenince çok üzüldüler, ağladılar. Biz de onlarla birlikte üzülüp ağladık. Yanılmıyorsam 1955 yılı idi. Köye, Rumların bir Türk köyünü bastığı haberi geldi. Bundan korkan köylüler, tedbir olsun diye o gece uyumayıp köyün çevresinde nöbet tuttular. Andrikko o gece eline uzun bir şiş alıp bize gelmiş, nöbet tutmak için kardeşlerimden izin istemişti. "Eğer Rumlar bu köyü basarsa ben de sizinle birlikte onlara karşı dövüşmek isterim" demisti. En büyük abim ise Andrikkoya "Bir şey olmaz, sen var git evine dön" deyice Andrikko "ama burası benim de köyüm" diye üsteledi. Ancak abim sonunda Andrikkoyu ikna etmeği başardı.

1957 yılında bir gün aniden köyü terk ettiler. Bello Arifo (Deli Arifo. Düşüncesiz ve sorumsuzca davranışlarından dolayı köylüler ona bu ismi takmışlardı) diye bilinen birisi elinde kazma kürek bu insanların evlerine girerek evlerini yıkmaya başlar. Bunu gorünce çok kızmış, Arifo'ya hemen orasını terketmesini, yaptığının çok yanlış birşey olduğunu söyledim. O ise bana, merteklerin değerli olduğunu, kendisinin ise parasız bir adam olduğunu söyledi. Benim itirazlarıma aldırmadan yapacağını yaptı. Yanıbaşımda uzun bir süre yıkık kalan bu evler benim için bir kabus olmuştu. O güzel insanlar, o güzel çocuklar yoktu artık. İnsana mutluluk duygusu veren o cıvıl cıvıl çocuk sesleri,  o çocuk kahkahaları aniden kaybolup gitmişti. 

Bundan kim kazançlı çıktı? Hiçbiri. Kaybeden mahallem ve köyüm oldu.

Bu kavgalar, bu savaşlar olmasaydı, yarasaların değil, mutlu insanların sesleri ve kahkahaları yükselecekti bu evlerden şimdi.

15 Şubat 2002
Aktaran: Hasan Surfi. 
(Hasan Surfi, bu yazısı ile Fatma Şanalan'ın (Fatma Gezzu) ona 3-4 yıl önce anlattıklarını aktarıyor. Fatma Gezzu, Rum komuşuları ile ilgili hikayesini Rumca olarak anlattı, Hasan Gazi de Türkçeye çevirdi. Gezzu şu sıralar tahminen 93 yaşında.

Οδοιπορικό

Εγώ ονομάζομαι Fatma Shanalan. Η παλιά μου γειτονιά με ξέρει Fatma Kezu. Γεννήθηκα στο χωρκό μου στην Λουρουτζίνα τζαί μέχρι τώρα είμαι μέσα στον ίδιον μαχαλά. Το 1957 είχα έξη γείτονες που ήταν ρωμιοί. Με τους ρωμιούς μου γείτονες νερόν δεν έτρεξεν που την μέση μας. Ήμασταν φίλοι τζαί ενωμένοι. Μόνον το νερό που καταπίνναμεν επίεννε χώρκα. Μιάν ημέρα ως την άλλη μέρα το νερό ενεχώλοσεν μεταξύ μας. Κάθε μέρα επίεννα σπίτι τους τζαί τζείνοι έρχονταν σπίτι μου. Τζείνοι έρχονταν στους γάμους μας τζαί εμείς επιγένναμε στους γάμους τους. Ήμασταν σαν τα αδέλφια. Εάν αρρωστούσαν ή αν είχαν μαράζι ή κανένα πρόβλημα εμαραζόνναμε που καρτιάς τζαι επιγένναμε για παριορκάν. Εθέλαμεν να τους βοηθήσουμε όσον μπορούσαμεν. Επίσης τζαί ετζείνοι ενιώθασιν τα ίδια για τους γειτόνους τους που ήταν τούρκοι. Από τους γείτονες μου πιο κοντά ήταν η Μυριάνθη με τον άντρα της τον Θεοδόση. Ήχαν τρείς κόρες. Οι κόρες τους ήταν μεγαλωμένες και επήγαν νύφφες στα άλλα χωριά. Στην άλλη μεριά του σπιτιού μου εκατήκουσαν ο Αντρίκκος με την γυναίκα του την Μαρίτσα. Ήχαν μια κόρη και δύο γιούδες. Το όνομα της κόρης ήταν Σοφούλλα. Τα ονόματα των γιούδων ήταν Μιχάλης τζαί Θοερής. Τότες στα 1956 αυτά τα πεθκιά ήταν μικροί. Εμέν ο Θεός εν μου έδοσεν πεθκιά για αυτό τους αγάπουν πολλά σαν τα πεθκιά μου. Ήταν τζαί οι πιό μιτσιοί της γειτονιάς. Εγώ έκσερα τζαί έκαμνα τζαί γλικά. Παραπάνω έκαμνα γλικόν της μοσσιλιάς. Τζαί πάντα τους ετάιζα που τα γλικά μου. Ήχα τζαί μέλι της μέλισσας. Μιαν ημέρα η Σοφούλλα αρρώστησεν που το ρουσούϊ τζαί έπερνα της γλικόν τζαί μέλι να φάη τζαί να γιάνη. Βάλε μια μέρα που επήρα πάλε μέλι της Σοφούλλας ήρταν οι φωτογράφοι έσσω τους να τους βγάλουν φωτογραφίες για τις ταυτότητες τους. Τζαί εγώ έβκαλα τούτην την φωτογραφία με την Σοφούλλα. Αυτή η φωτογραφία που βλέπετε είμαι εγώ τζαι η Σοφούλλα.

Τότες εμείς ακούαμεν ότι σε διάφορους τόπους της Κύπρου ήχαν φασαρίες μεταξύ τους ρωμιούς τζαί τούρκους. Οι γείτονες μου που ήταν ρωμιοί αρκέπσαν τζαί εφοβούνταν. Διότις εμείς οι τούρκοι στο χωρκό ήμασταν πιο πολλοί. Όταν μας ελαλούσαν έν να φύουν που το χωρκό μας εμείς εμαραζώναμε τζαι εκλαίαμεν. Μια μέρα του 1955, οι ρωμιοί επερικύκλωσαν έναν τουρκοχώριν, εμείς εφοηθήκαμεν. Τζαί οι ρωμιοί του χωρκού μας εφοήθηκαν παραπάνω από ούλλους μας. Εκείνη την νύχτα εμείς οι χωρκανοί την επεράσαμνε στο πόϊν, τζαί εγλέπαμεν το χωρκό μας...Ο Αντρίκκος εκείνη την νύχτα επήρεν μιάν σμίλα και εζήτησε που τους αδελφούες μου να πάει καθήκον με τους δικούς μας. Ο Αντρίκκος είπε εάν έρτουν οι ρωμιοί θα τους πολεμήσει μαζί μας. Ο πιο μεγάλος αδελφός μου του είπε: «εσύ πήγαινε και μεν έχεις ένια, ένεσιη τίποτες», και τον έστειλε στο σπίτι του. Μια  μέρα στα 1956 άκσιππα έφηγαν που το χωρκό μας. Ο πελλό Arifos στο χέρι του είχε έναν κούσπο τζαί εμπήκε στα σπίτια τους τζαί άρκεψεν να τους τα χαλά. Όταν τον είδα εθημώθηκα και του είπα: « κατέβα γλίορα κάτω, τί κάνεις.; Και μου είπε: «τα βολίτζια τούτων των σπιτιών κάνουν πολλά ριάλια, έγω είμαι απένταρος άνθρωπος», και καθόλου αφτίν έν μου έβαλεν. Αλλά τα σπίτια πολλά χρόνια στάθηκαν χαλασμένα σαν έναν εφιάλτη κοντά μου. Εκείνα τα όμορφα πλάσματα έφυγαν σε μια στιγμή. Κείνα τα ευτυχισμένα γέλια τους χαθήκασιν. Δεν εκέρτισεν κανένας...μόνο η Λουρουτζίνα είχε χάση. Εαν δεν εσινέβεναν τούτοι οι πολέμοι, που τούντα σπίτια δεν θα πετούσαν νυχτερίδες, ήταν να πετούν τα γέλια των παιδκιών τζαί οι ευτυχίες των ανθρώπων...

Χασάν Μεχμέτ
Φατμά Σιαναλάν

        

 

A photo which brings back many unforgettable memories of a very distant past(*)

My name is Fatma Şanalan. before the 'Surname Law' I was known as Fatma Gezzu. I was born in this neighbourhood and am still living here.

Until 1957, or it could be 1958, I had several Greek neighbours. We were very close friends and never did we quarrel. I used to visit them everyday and likewise they used to come to me. We used to go to their weddings and they used to come to ours. When they were ill we used to do everything we could to make them regain their health. Their sorrows and worries were ours too. We never avoided helping them when they needed our help. They used to reciprocate in the same way. We were like brothers and sisters.

My nearest neighbour was Miriathi. her husband was Theori. They had three daughters, all married and settled in their husbands' villages.

My other neighbour was Maritsa. her husband was Andrikko. They had a daughter and two sons. Their daughter was called Sofulla and their sons Mihali and Theori. In 1956 all three were small kids. I had no children, so, I used to look upon them as my own children and love them as such. Besides they were the youngest children in our neighbourhood.

I was very good in making fruit preserves, jams and marmalades. In particular my haw(**) jam was delicious and the children used to love it. I used to take great pleasure and feel very happy offering them some of my jams etc. 

I also had plenty of honey. I never ran out of honey because we grew up to believe honey was very nourishing, good for health and therapeutic too. One day Sofulla became ill. She had the measles. In those days it was widely believed that sweet foods such as jam, marmalade and in particular honey were very good for this kind of illness. I visited Sofulla everyday and made her eat couple of tea spoonsful of my honey. I also made sure that she ate some of my jams I took with me when I visited her. 

On one of my visits to Sofulla, I noticed there was a photographer in their house. They were having their photograph taken for identity card purposes. I asked Sofulla to come and stand next to me so that we could have our picture taken. The photo above shows Sofulla and I. 

Meanwhile we heard intercommunal unrest and clashes had started throughout Cyprus. Cypriot Greeks and Cypriot Turks had started fighting and killing each other. My Greek neighbours felt extremely worried and afraid of these unfortunate developments. Their fears kept growing  everyday, because they were a minority in our village. When we realised they would have to leave the village one day we all felt very sad and cried whenever we came together. One night in the summer of 1957 or 1958, I cannot remember exactly, came the news that Greeks had staged a surprise attack on a Turkish village. The whole of the village population became alarmed and frightened by this news. On that same night each one of us remained awake. There was an undeclared state of emergency at the village. men armed took up positions in and around the village and guarded it till the next morning. My Greek neighbour Andrikko armed with a long bayonet came to us and asked my brother's permission to join his villagers to guard the village against the would be attackers. "If Greeks attack our village I want to fight against them alongside with my fellow villagers" Andrikko insisted on joining his villagers to defend the village. My brother, with difficulty, convinced him to go back to his home and stay calm. Nothing happened that night.

Early one morning our Greek neighbours suddenly left the village.

A young man called Bello(***) Arifo wasted no time in getting into the houses abandoned by my neighbours. He came equipped and started to pull down the houses and collect the long timbers holding the ceilings. When I shouted and asked him to stop what he was doing he answered: "I am a very poor young man without even a penny in my pocket and these timbers are very valuable." He ignored whatever I said, removed all the timbers and carried them away.

My neighbours' houses remained in ruins for a long time. They were a nightmare for me. All of a sudden, those nice people had disappeared. There was no sign of their happy laughter once resounding from those houses. There were no more children playing and screaming joyfully to brighten up our lives. Who has gained from all these? No one. We have all lost. Our neighbourhood has lost. Our village has lost.

had it not been for those clashes and war,the happy laughter of people would have echoed from these houses instead of the existing ugly and cold screeches of bats.

Translation: Soner Arifler
12 March 2002.

(*)About 4-5 years ago Fatma Gezzu, now 93, talked to Hasan Gazi (Hasan Surfi) about her Greek neighbours. Gezzu's account was in Cypriot Greek. Hasan Gazi translated her story into Turkish and asked me to publish it on these pages. 

(**) Yellow or light orange colour berries produced by hawthorn trees.
(***) "bello" is a Cypriot Greek word for the word "mad" in English. This young man's name was Arif. Arifo was his nickname. Because he always behaved thoughtlesly and irresponsibly, fellow villagers called him "bello Arifo" (mad Arifo).

 
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