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Renovating the Armenians spiritual home
By Simon Bahceli
24 May 09
Cyprus Mail
IT MUST have been around ten years ago that I first wandered into the
Arabahmet neighbourhood of Nicosia. Yalcin, a Turkish Cypriot writer
and friend of mine, had recently opened a bar and restaurant in the
Writer's Association's building in Tanzimat Street. Trade was slow and
Yalcin soon tired of cooking, so we began taking our own meat to throw
on the grill, and our own booze as well, seeing as he would always have
to send his assistant out to buy some when `customers' arrived.
Despite the self-service setup, Yalcin's place, as it came to be known,
was magnificent. A beautifully tiled hallway led to a spacious and
leafy courtyard, while a swooping stairway took you to vast rooms with
covered balconies that hung over the street below. I felt privileged
that we could use such a majestic building for such simple pleasures,
and only slightly distracted by the thought that if the owner had been
around, he would probably have been living there.
It was later, when Yalcin was booted out and the building leased to a
`real restaurateur', that I learned the building belonged to an
Armenian Cypriot. In fact, so did many others in the area, especially
the splendid ones with ornate balconies and tall front doors. And of
course there was the Armenian church, just metres from Yalcin's place,
and the theatre no more than five doors away. But where were the
Armenians?
`We left in 1963,' says Sebouh Tavitian, former deputy head of the
English School in Nicosia. I met Tavitian at the Armenian Church's
Prelature in southern Nicosia, where I had come to meet the Archbishop.
`There was never any trouble; we left without any fighting or
anything,' he says.
Nineteen sixty-three marked the end of almost 1000 years of Armenian
presence in the area. For the 400 years before 1963 they had coexisted
peacefully with the mainly Turkish population, having been favoured by
the Ottomans for their help in their conquest of Cyprus in 1571. It was
only when the Turkish and Greek Cypriots fell out in 1963 that the
Armenian Cypriots of Arabahmet felt the goodwill might come to an end,
as it had so tragically in Turkey five decades before, and left.
Today there are no Armenians in Arabahmet, and the church which once
thronged with worshippers on Sundays lies empty, a victim of neglect
and vandalism. The medieval Convent of Our Lady of Tyre, which backs
onto the church, has suffered a similar fate, and with each heavy
rainfall, fire, looting or act of mindless vandalism, a bit more of
this beautiful arched sandstone structure is lost.
And although it has been over 40 years since an Armenian has lived in
Arabahmet, and the same length of time since a service has been held in
the church there, the area, and the church in particular, still hold a
special place in many Armenian Cypriots' heart.
Tavitian is in his mid sixties now, but he remembers well his former
home.
`As an Armenian born very close to that church, the church and the
buildings around it are part of my life history. I was baptised there.
I went to kindergarten there and I sang in the choir there. The church
was our second home,' he says, clearly enjoying the memory.
Although Tavitian and his fellow Arabahmet Armenians seem not to
entertain the likelihood of returning to settle in the area, their
spirits have been lifted by the news that their church and the
monastery have been selected by the United Nations Development
Programme (UNPD) for restoration. The project is still in its early
stages, but plans have been drawn and the church and monastery fenced
off to prevent squatters, fly tippers and vandals from moving back in.
Armenian Archbishop of Cyprus Varoujan Hergelian tells me he is glad
that the `spiritual home' of the Cypriot Armenian community is being
restored.
`All members of the community were baptised and married there,' he
says.
`It was the centre of our community, and next door was the school and
the social club. It was the cultural hub. Scriptures too were written
there,' he adds, emphasising how the church has value for all of the
approximately 2,500 Cypriot Armenians living in Cyprus.
While the church and the monastery might not hold great spiritual
significance for the majority of Greek Orthodox and Muslim Cypriots,
the buildings should however be recognised for their historical and
architectural value. The Armenian Monastery, as it is known, was
originally known as the Convent of Our Lady of Tyre, built by
Benedictine monks in the eighth century. It was rebuilt in the 13th
century during the Lusignan reign and only became Armenian when the
Ottomans gave it to the Armenian community after their conquest of the
island in the 16th century. This is perhaps why the Turkish Cypriot
authorities seem happy enough to go along with the project.
Jaco Cilliers, programme manager at the UNDP's Action for Cooperation
Trust (ACT), however, sees the project as having more than simply the
preservation of buildings as a goal.
`Our aim is to support this large goal of how cultural heritage can be
used to promote reconciliation through cultural heritage,' he tells me
in his office in the UN-controlled buffer zone.
Cillier believes that restoring religious and cultural sites on either
side of the Green Line might help in alleviating hostilities between
the estranged communities on the island.
`What I find most valuable is the willingness of all communities to
promote their ideas of what the project is about. There is great
collaboration, and without collaboration it would not have been
possible.'
In essence, Cillier believes the fact that Turkish Cypriots and
Armenians have to sit together to discuss how the project will move
forward means the first seeds of reconciliation will have been sewn.
`Whether the reconciliation starts now or in 20 years' time, people
have to have a relationship to have knowledge and understanding of each
other. The process is just as important as the restoration,' he says.
Admittedly, most of the Armenians I spoke to did not see the
restoration project as something that would spark a love affair between
themselves and Turkish Cypriots, particularly since the idea came not
from the Turkish Cypriot community but from the Armenian community and
the UN. Less still would it have an impact on the ongoing disagreement
between the Turks and Armenians over the 1915 genocide of 1.5 million
Anatolian Armenians.
`I'm open minded but I can't forget the fact that I've never met either
of my grandfathers,' says Artin Aivazian, headmaster of the Narag
Armenian School in Nicosia.
But although Aivazian and fellow Armenians look to 20th century
Turkish-Armenian relations with sadness, there are also feelings of
kinship towards the Turkish Cypriots they used to share neighbourhoods
with.
`Even during the uprising of 1955-60, we didn't see any of the
troubles. Our neighbours were Armenian and Turkish. We didn't speak
Greek till we were 10 or 11,' says Aivazian.
`I read novels in Turkish. My father could read and write Ottoman. My
daughter knows Turkish because we used it at home,' Aivazian adds.
Naturally, linguistic links are important.
Nevertheless, Cillier is keen that the restoration of Our Lady of Tyre
strengthens the bonds that already exist and create new ones in
generations of Armenians and Turkish Cypriots too young to remember a
shared existence in Arabahmet. And although this may take time, it is
no reason not to bother. As Cillier says: `You don't turn up on your
first date with a wedding ring'.
By Simon Bahceli
24 May 09
Cyprus Mail
IT MUST have been around ten years ago that I first wandered into the
Arabahmet neighbourhood of Nicosia. Yalcin, a Turkish Cypriot writer
and friend of mine, had recently opened a bar and restaurant in the
Writer's Association's building in Tanzimat Street. Trade was slow and
Yalcin soon tired of cooking, so we began taking our own meat to throw
on the grill, and our own booze as well, seeing as he would always have
to send his assistant out to buy some when `customers' arrived.
Despite the self-service setup, Yalcin's place, as it came to be known,
was magnificent. A beautifully tiled hallway led to a spacious and
leafy courtyard, while a swooping stairway took you to vast rooms with
covered balconies that hung over the street below. I felt privileged
that we could use such a majestic building for such simple pleasures,
and only slightly distracted by the thought that if the owner had been
around, he would probably have been living there.
It was later, when Yalcin was booted out and the building leased to a
`real restaurateur', that I learned the building belonged to an
Armenian Cypriot. In fact, so did many others in the area, especially
the splendid ones with ornate balconies and tall front doors. And of
course there was the Armenian church, just metres from Yalcin's place,
and the theatre no more than five doors away. But where were the
Armenians?
`We left in 1963,' says Sebouh Tavitian, former deputy head of the
English School in Nicosia. I met Tavitian at the Armenian Church's
Prelature in southern Nicosia, where I had come to meet the Archbishop.
`There was never any trouble; we left without any fighting or
anything,' he says.
Nineteen sixty-three marked the end of almost 1000 years of Armenian
presence in the area. For the 400 years before 1963 they had coexisted
peacefully with the mainly Turkish population, having been favoured by
the Ottomans for their help in their conquest of Cyprus in 1571. It was
only when the Turkish and Greek Cypriots fell out in 1963 that the
Armenian Cypriots of Arabahmet felt the goodwill might come to an end,
as it had so tragically in Turkey five decades before, and left.
Today there are no Armenians in Arabahmet, and the church which once
thronged with worshippers on Sundays lies empty, a victim of neglect
and vandalism. The medieval Convent of Our Lady of Tyre, which backs
onto the church, has suffered a similar fate, and with each heavy
rainfall, fire, looting or act of mindless vandalism, a bit more of
this beautiful arched sandstone structure is lost.
And although it has been over 40 years since an Armenian has lived in
Arabahmet, and the same length of time since a service has been held in
the church there, the area, and the church in particular, still hold a
special place in many Armenian Cypriots' heart.
Tavitian is in his mid sixties now, but he remembers well his former
home.
`As an Armenian born very close to that church, the church and the
buildings around it are part of my life history. I was baptised there.
I went to kindergarten there and I sang in the choir there. The church
was our second home,' he says, clearly enjoying the memory.
Although Tavitian and his fellow Arabahmet Armenians seem not to
entertain the likelihood of returning to settle in the area, their
spirits have been lifted by the news that their church and the
monastery have been selected by the United Nations Development
Programme (UNPD) for restoration. The project is still in its early
stages, but plans have been drawn and the church and monastery fenced
off to prevent squatters, fly tippers and vandals from moving back in.
Armenian Archbishop of Cyprus Varoujan Hergelian tells me he is glad
that the `spiritual home' of the Cypriot Armenian community is being
restored.
`All members of the community were baptised and married there,' he
says.
`It was the centre of our community, and next door was the school and
the social club. It was the cultural hub. Scriptures too were written
there,' he adds, emphasising how the church has value for all of the
approximately 2,500 Cypriot Armenians living in Cyprus.
While the church and the monastery might not hold great spiritual
significance for the majority of Greek Orthodox and Muslim Cypriots,
the buildings should however be recognised for their historical and
architectural value. The Armenian Monastery, as it is known, was
originally known as the Convent of Our Lady of Tyre, built by
Benedictine monks in the eighth century. It was rebuilt in the 13th
century during the Lusignan reign and only became Armenian when the
Ottomans gave it to the Armenian community after their conquest of the
island in the 16th century. This is perhaps why the Turkish Cypriot
authorities seem happy enough to go along with the project.
Jaco Cilliers, programme manager at the UNDP's Action for Cooperation
Trust (ACT), however, sees the project as having more than simply the
preservation of buildings as a goal.
`Our aim is to support this large goal of how cultural heritage can be
used to promote reconciliation through cultural heritage,' he tells me
in his office in the UN-controlled buffer zone.
Cillier believes that restoring religious and cultural sites on either
side of the Green Line might help in alleviating hostilities between
the estranged communities on the island.
`What I find most valuable is the willingness of all communities to
promote their ideas of what the project is about. There is great
collaboration, and without collaboration it would not have been
possible.'
In essence, Cillier believes the fact that Turkish Cypriots and
Armenians have to sit together to discuss how the project will move
forward means the first seeds of reconciliation will have been sewn.
`Whether the reconciliation starts now or in 20 years' time, people
have to have a relationship to have knowledge and understanding of each
other. The process is just as important as the restoration,' he says.
Admittedly, most of the Armenians I spoke to did not see the
restoration project as something that would spark a love affair between
themselves and Turkish Cypriots, particularly since the idea came not
from the Turkish Cypriot community but from the Armenian community and
the UN. Less still would it have an impact on the ongoing disagreement
between the Turks and Armenians over the 1915 genocide of 1.5 million
Anatolian Armenians.
`I'm open minded but I can't forget the fact that I've never met either
of my grandfathers,' says Artin Aivazian, headmaster of the Narag
Armenian School in Nicosia.
But although Aivazian and fellow Armenians look to 20th century
Turkish-Armenian relations with sadness, there are also feelings of
kinship towards the Turkish Cypriots they used to share neighbourhoods
with.
`Even during the uprising of 1955-60, we didn't see any of the
troubles. Our neighbours were Armenian and Turkish. We didn't speak
Greek till we were 10 or 11,' says Aivazian.
`I read novels in Turkish. My father could read and write Ottoman. My
daughter knows Turkish because we used it at home,' Aivazian adds.
Naturally, linguistic links are important.
Nevertheless, Cillier is keen that the restoration of Our Lady of Tyre
strengthens the bonds that already exist and create new ones in
generations of Armenians and Turkish Cypriots too young to remember a
shared existence in Arabahmet. And although this may take time, it is
no reason not to bother. As Cillier says: `You don't turn up on your
first date with a wedding ring'.