Thinking Allowed: Toeing the green line

This month we are living in the only divided capital in the world. Think Berlin pre the wall coming down. Well, maybe a little less intense than Berlin and with no wall. Instead there are piles of painted oil drums with barbed wire on top. South of the ‘green line’ that runs through Nicosia lies the part of Cyprus that is acknowledged by the world and is a member of the European Union. North of the green line lies the self-proclaimed Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, recognised by Turkey alone. While the no man’s land and division is not a physical barrier on most of the island, in the city, the no man’s land is a real no-man’s-land. In the peacekeeping gap between the two parts of Nicosia are visible untouched remains of the actual conflict - bombed crumpling buildings, houses with broken windows, roads strewn with debris, and nature making its slow reclamation of the human destruction. The UN has a big presence in the city with a large headquarters in a wider part of the no mans land. So why have the UN peacekeepers parked themselves on this small island for 50 years? In the seventies the Turkish took advantage of a Cypriot coup to claim some of the island for itself. It is not a pleasant time in the island's history. Most people we have met in Cyprus have stories of family members having to flee their homes overnight to set up new lives further south. Neither party wants to relent their position, so the conflict has just sat at an impasse for years. Though largely a peaceful divide at this point, efforts to come up with any longstanding solution have not yet been successful and new generations of UN peacekeepers form careers in the in-between space of peace. If you didn’t look at a map or history books or walk right up to the barriers you might never realise you were in half a city. But if you are very perceptive you will fee the tension in the air: the small signs of the conflict past, the way brows furrow if you mention Turkey, the way roads end or veer unexpectedly.

I am not sure why, but I felt a little awkward crossing into the Turkish side. A bit like I was betraying my dinner host by secretly pre-eating. A bit like I was meant to choose sides like friends of a divorcing couple. I did anyhow, though. The border crossing is a small unassuming building. I crossed into Northern Cyprus at a crossing near the UN headquarters. In the large no-man's-land, there is a cafe for people from both sides to be able to meet on neutral ground. I wondered if this storybook scenario actually happens or if the cafe is mostly frequented by UN employees and tourists. The Turkish side of the city does feel a little bit different than the other side of the line. For example, everything is in Turkish and the cafes and restaurants have Turkish food. On the other hand smoking in cafes seems to be the activity of choice on both sides of the line. The old town of Turkish Nicosia felt much more touristy than I expected with big groups of French and German tour groups wandering around the narrow streets or sharing meals of pide and Cai on terraces. I had planned to have lunch on the Turkish side but the crowded tourist scene was much less appealing than getting a one euro wood fired potato pie back on the other side of the divide. A short wait in line and a a flash of my passport and I was back in Europe. Back in Europe and relieved, because conflict, even stable conflict, is exhausting.