“That summer when Tasos and Solomos were murdered, I felt a deep sense of shame… I’m sorry, Anastasia.” With these words, former Member of the European Parliament and Turkish Cypriot academic Niyazi Gizilgurek makes a powerful statement, referring to the tragic events of August 1996, when Tasos Isaac and Solomos Solomou were killed by the “Gray Wolves” and the occupying regime.
Niazi Gizilgurek notes that all Turkish Cypriots owe an apology to the daughter of Tassos Isaac, who was in her mother’s womb at the time, while also criticizing the stance of the then-Turkish Cypriot leader Rauf Denktash, who, after the crime, hosted Isaac’s murderers “at his presidential palace” and “offered them lemonade to cool off.”
ΣΧΕΤΙΚΑ ΑΡΘΡΑ
Here is Kizilgurek’s post in its entirety:
“The summer that Tasos and Solomos were murdered, I felt a deep sense of shame!
That summer, Koutlou Antali was the first to be murdered. Then, the horrific acts of violence that followed one after another caused the scorching, sun-bleached August of 1996 to go down in history as a pitch-black month.
That August, Greek Cypriot motorcyclists in the Deryneia area managed to evade UN soldiers and entered the buffer zone. They began moving toward the soldiers, police officers, and “fully armed civilians” standing opposite them.
Once they got close enough, they started running backward, but became entangled in the barbed wire. Men with clubs running behind them beat the Greek Cypriots to death.
It was a horrific scene.
A young man, who had become entangled in the barbed wire and could not escape, was being lynched with clubs.
Television stations broadcast this scene of brutality live.
Three days later, Tassos Isaac’s funeral took place. The funeral, held in deep silence and profound grief, was about to end with a terrifying scene.
Solomos Solomou, a relative of Tassos, joined a group after the funeral that headed north and reached the northern edge of the no-man’s-land.
With a cigarette in his mouth, he began climbing the flagpole where the Turkish flag was flying.
The TV stations were once again broadcasting live.
Suddenly, Solomos slipped down from the flagpole he had climbed and collapsed to the ground. The young man had been shot dead by gunfire coming from the north, like a bird shot down during a hunt.
That summer, they rubbed salt into the wounds of the Greek Cypriots.
The “death ritual” in Deryneia had been organized by the official authorities. Violent “nationalist” groups had been brought to the island as a measure against the Greek Cypriot protesters. The journalists who gathered on August 11 in front of the Turkish Cypriot Information Office had been warned in advance: “This is a special day. Today, you cannot write down everything you see or photograph everything you see. Do not forget that we have recorded all of your names.”
The journalists would come to understand exactly what those words meant once they arrived at the scene of the events. One journalist, seeing people wandering along the ceasefire line carrying flags with the three crescents, bats, and hunting rifles, asked:
-“What’s going on? Is there a hunt?”
-“All kinds of hunting are allowed today,” came the reply.
Worst of all, after the brutal murder of Tassos Isaac, Denktash hosted at his presidential palace those who had grown tired of the “hunt,” offered them lemonade to cool off, and, amid chants of “Basboug Denktash” (“Leader Denktash”), brazenly declared to the press: “We will not give you our land!”
That summer, as a human being, my conscience ached, and as a Turkish Cypriot, I felt ashamed.
Because the murderers were acting in the name of all Turkish Cypriots.
I know full well that in this country there is no culture of apology. But when Tassos Isaac was killed, his daughter was still in her mother’s womb. I believe it is the duty of all of us to apologize—at least to the orphaned girl who came into this world named Anastasia.”
READ ALSO: Senekis on Alpha: No active outbreaks of foot-and-mouth disease in livestock farms | AlphaNews
