Countless women never had children, never married, many were ‘shipped off’ abroad for an abortion or to send the secret far away to a different country
It took close to half a century for Cypriots to finally begin speaking out about one of the worst horrors that unfolded after the invasion in 1974: the rapes.
Many have taken their secret to the grave. In a society that coated survivors with shame, the stories of what truly happened to Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots have been shrouded in a wall of silence.
The summer of 1974 may have started beautifully for some. Sun shining, flowers in full bloom. No one could have predicted that hundreds of women would be raped as part of a full-scale war. That many men would be raped after their capture.
Today, we can say they were raped. At the time, the victims “were taken”. Or in some quarters “let it happen”, “didn’t fight back enough” or “ripped up by the Turks,” Akel MP Skevi Koukouma explains as she recounts the horrors of Greek Cypriot women.
Terms like PTSD did not exist for the general population 50 years ago. Depression, anxiety were not used by the public the way society does now.
The violence unfolded at a time where women were often hounded after their rapes, by families who were ashamed to have a daughter who was no longer a virgin. By in-laws who urged men to divorce their wives who “brought shame on the family”. By relatives who sought to have the women ‘stitched up’ to give them a semblance of virginity and marry them off to anyone they could, young, old, sick or even dying, just to try and bury the secret away.
Koukouma says the stories which have been kicked into silence are endless. No one will ever know the full extent of it. Countless women never had children, never married or deliberately let themselves physically deteriorate as they fell into growing dejection and depression, she recounts. Many were ‘shipped off’ abroad for an abortion or to send the secret far away to a different country.
Out of sight, out of mind. Or so they hoped.
“People knew who the victims were. The Turkish soldiers who raped didn’t do it secretly,” Koukouma says.
A European Commission of Human Rights report adopted by the Council of Europe in 1976 details repeated rapes of women of all ages, from 12 to 71 “sometimes to such an extent that the victims suffered hemorrhages or became mental wrecks”.
“In some areas, enforced prostitution was practised, all women and girls of a village being collected and put into separate rooms in empty houses, where they were raped repeatedly by Turkish troops,” the report said.
Many were raped in front of family members including their children. Some were locked up in homes and abused at gunpoint. Others were deliberately left with marks to tell the story of what happened.
“And society moved on as if nothing happened,” Koukouma says.
In a book ‘The other war, that of doctors in 1974’ by Chrysanthos Chrysanthou, doctors recount the sea of women, young and old who came in for treatment at hospitals in the country.
Some had tears streaming down their cheeks and a vacant look in their eyes. Others covered their face in an attempt to hide.
One woman, in her 50s was screaming mercilessly. “I want to die, I want to die.”
Koukouma has been a central figure in breaking the taboo of war rapes in Cyprus. She staunchly fought in 2015 to ensure survivors are afforded state support, both psychological and financial, after seeing too many women living in filthy conditions.
Currently, there are around 80 Greek Cypriot women who receive the government-backed support. No men have come forward to the state to admit to a rape.
Koukouma is also an ardent fighter of not covering up the fact that both Greek Cypriots and Turkish Cypriots were raped. The horrors which unfolded should not be politicised for any side’s own agenda, she argues.
“For the rape of Greek Cypriots, people don’t want to talk about the taboos. For the rapes of Turkish Cypriots, people didn’t want to admit that such barbaric acts were carried out by Eoka B.
“We [Greek Cypriots] refuse to accept we could be capable of such things.”
While information for rapes on Greek Cypriot women is scant but slowly emerging, much less is known about the rapes of Turkish Cypriot women.
This is because the massacres of Maratha, Santalaris and Aloda ensured no one lived to tell of the violence which butchered the Turkish Cypriot villages.
And if there is a wall of silence over the rapes of women, the truth for men is hidden underneath cement blocks.
“It is even more of a shameful taboo for men. It is their manhood which they think is lost forever,” said Aliki Hadjigeorgiou who chairs the Zoe vs War Violence NGO.
The charity aims to raise awareness of rape as a weapon of war and plans to offer support to victims or their children.
She says the number of victims will never truly be known. Hadjigeorgiou suggests over 1,500 women were raped in 1974. Koukouma says she has heard the figure 800 floated around but cannot know if it is accurate.
Though some indicators can be available from the number of abortions which took place – another hushed up element of the atrocities – there are of course no pointers for the men who were raped.
At the time, parliament passed through a rushed amendment to the law that allowed for abortions of the rape victims. It had the blessing of the church.
Scores of women underwent the procedure, with many going on buses to the British bases for their abortion.
They then lived through the shame society flung at them.
“At the time when these women needed the most support, they were shunned and bullied,” Hadjigeorgiou states.
Both Hadjigeorgiou and Koukouma say some women did give birth to the children that were conceived through rape. Yet again, information is scant and neither want information to reach the public domain for fear of potentially identifying anyone. It’s a small country.
Now efforts are being made to setup a memorial as a homage to the victims. “They should be worshipped for the suffering they endured,” says Hadjigeorgiou.
It may be 50 years later, it may never change anything for any of the survivors, but it is a symbolic token of recognition, albeit half a century too late that they are seen and supported, she adds.
Koukouma and Hadjigeorgiou urge any survivor to step forward and speak out.
“They should not be ashamed. It should not be the victim which feels shame but the perpetrator,” Koukouma says.
