A Cyprus Life Journey together through change

A Cyprus Life Journey together through change

By Eren Erdogan…

I’d like to share this wedding photograph of my grandparents with you.

My grandmother was from Gemikonağı (Karavostasi), and my grandfather was born in Famagusta. I believe this photograph was taken sometime in the late 1920s or early 1930s, at the beginning of their life together.

Every time I look at this picture, I seem to notice something different. I find myself looking at their faces and wondering what was going through their minds.

Were they nervous? Excited? Did they ever imagine where life would eventually take them? I guess we’ll never know, but I often catch myself wondering.

Now here’s something that really got me thinking.

I also have their engagement photograph. In that picture, my grandmother is dressed completely in black and is wearing a traditional black veil, although her face is uncovered. Yet by the time this wedding photograph was taken, the black veil had gone. Instead, she was wearing a beautiful white wedding dress and a lighter bridal veil.

To me, it seems to tell the story of a generation that was slowly changing. Holding on to old traditions, but at the same time beginning to embrace a new way of dressing.

It also makes me wonder if this was around the time Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’s reforms were beginning to influence many Turkish Cypriot families. Cyprus was still under British administration, so those reforms didn’t officially apply here, but their influence certainly crossed the sea. Whether that was the reason or not, I can’t say for sure, but it’s something I’ve often thought about whenever I compare the two photographs.

After they married, my grandparents made their home in Nicosia, where my mother and her sisters were born and raised.

But my grandmother always had a special connection to her family home in Gemikonağı. It was a beautiful white house she had inherited from her father, standing directly opposite the ancient city of Soli.

If you ever happen to drive past the Soli archaeological site, slow down for a moment. You’ll still see the old white house standing proudly there as shown by the red pin on the map. At the entrance is an elegant wrought-iron gate with the words “Ayşe Hanım” on it. Every time I visit, I can’t help but think of my grandmother walking through that very gate all those years ago.

During the Second World War, my grandmother returned to this house with my mother and her sisters. The large garden wasn’t just there to look nice—it helped feed the family during difficult times. It produced fruit, vegetables and just about everything a family could make use of.

The garden is still there today and still belongs to our family.

Sadly, the back section has gradually been taken over by giant cane. Every few years we pay someone to clear it, but anyone who’s dealt with giant cane knows what a stubborn enemy it can be. Somehow it always manages to come back.

Maybe family memories are a bit like that too. No matter how many years pass, they always seem to find a way of growing back.

To most people, this is probably just another old wedding photograph.

To me, it’s much more than that.

It’s where part of my family’s story began.

Sometimes I wish my grandparents could step out of this photograph for just five minutes. I’d make them a cup of coffee, sit quietly beside them and simply listen. I don’t think I’d ask many questions. I’d just let them talk.

I have a feeling I’d learn more in those five minutes than I have in a lifetime.

And perhaps, before stepping back into the photograph, they’d smile and remind me that the old white house, the garden, and this precious photograph were never really ours to own.

They were simply ours to care for… and one day, to pass on.

For more memories and photos of Cyprus go to Frozen Cypriots

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