Journeys taken by Turkish Cypriots during the ‘Eleven dark year’ period, between 1963 - 1974. The memories of seven refugees, leaving behind their homes, escaping from, and starting fresh in another country.
Gizlice Sen. Ben. Kardeslerim. ,
,
Benim çocuklar yanımda mı?
Elimi bırakmayın
Ben onları duyamıyorum
Kardeslerinize görünürde tutun Yaklasıyoruz
Kurşunlar her yönden vuruldu
Elli kişinin arasında bir ev paylaşdık Erkekler dışarıda gece nöbetinde evi koruyordular. Su yok.Ekmek yok.Yatak yok.
geldiler
bekledim
Diğer aileler bizimle kalırdı
Variler camaşır suyula doluydu
Işık sadece bir yerden geliyordu ; Karım ve çocuklarım; umutla bekliyorduk.
Bir gecede hepsini içtiler.
Kurşunlardan.
The ‘dots’ grew larger until I could just make out what appeared to be the shapes of boats and ships. It was the first wave of the Turkish Navy
carrying troops who would soon land on the beaches.
Refusing point blank, insisting that this was their home and they would not leave no matter what happened.
Taking up residence in the bathroom, sheltering in the bath as bullets whistled through the glass windows and doors of the house.
Discovering bullet holes in the wall just above the pillow on the bed, exactly where I would have been sleeping.
Power and water had been cut, making life even more difficult. The sound of small arms and heavier gunfire echoed as Turkish troops disembarked along the shore and found some resistance from a startled community.