Cyprus: Thinking of Theofellas

December 22, 2016

Thinking of Theofellas

Soon after the CRP folks gathered on Cyprus in November of 1973, we met with the Anglican Bishop of the island, who was a friend of Brig. General Michael Harbottle, a former senior British Army officer and Chief of Staff of the United Nations Peacekeeping Force in Cyprus from 1966 to 1968, (Wikipedia). The purpose of the visit was to discuss locations for the 21 group members to live on the island. The Bishop had a summer home in Dhioros, a small village in the north, which was an important site, as the Turkish Cypriots were already moving back to their former homes after a ten-year absence.

The Bishop recommended that we contact a local villager, by the name of Theofellas, who had been his gardener. He referred to him as “Mr. Greenthumbs” for his gardening expertise, but I also interpreted a tone of unfortunate British colonial attitude in his comment. Fortunately, we were able to meet Theofellas, who helped us located a recently renovated house to rent. He seemed non-pulsed that a white American (me), a very black Indian (Manav), a two great looking single women (Francie & Kate) would be sharing the second floor of a house where the widow Athena and her goats occupied the first floor. In this very traditional village, most girls, who were not sent to either the Greek and Turkish mainland, were married in their teens. 

Initially, one of my roles as a member of the CRP was spent working as part of the national negotiating team. Meeting with officials at the highest levels, we were trying to create a process for the resettlement of the 20,000 internally displaced persons from 1963 collapse of their government. The days were long and full of copious amounts of political gesturing, cigarettes and alcohol in this very masculine Mediterrean culture. After one of these long days, I headed back to Dhiorios, where I encountered Theofellas at his small hideaway in the forest overlooking the Mediterrean landscape. He sat me down, brewed me a couple of herbal tea to chase away the stress of the day and pointing at the beautiful country-side said, “Look at you! You are moving so fast that you are missing the whole thing.” Sitting there, in my sweat soaked shirt, I realized that I would then shift the focus of my work and spend most of my time interacting with the local Greek and Turkish Cypriots versus the politicians in the capital.

During the time that our team lived in Dhioros, Theofellas became a great friend and an invaluable guide into the local culture. One day, while out for a walk with him, I praised his walking stick. He immediately gave it to me as a gift and would not take it back. I later learned that this was an old custom. I have that stick to this day and treasure it. Thank you Theofellas!!!

A postscript to this is another story. Shortly after my return from Cyprus, I was walking down a Friends School hallway and a student commented that she liked my sweater. Without hesitation, I took it off, gave it to her and continued on my way. I can only imagine the dinner conversation that night!

This and many other encounters over these three months altered my life 


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