I, too, am a resistance fighter
July 15th, 1974, 8:20am, Saittas village: I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts, a thin tee-shirt and a pair of rubber flip-flops. Like every morning, I was sweeping the yard of my father's coffee shop. Suddenly, the radio started to play military marches. One of the customers shouted, "Coup d' etat!". My father turned off the gas stove where he was boiling water for the coffees and announced: "The shop is shut for today"... The grown-ups discussed the developments. From the first moment, I remember them talking about the danger of a Turkish military invasion. Sweeping the radio dial up and down the band, I came across Paphos Free Radio and heard that Makarios was alive and the coup had failed.
I lay on the bed, hid the radio under the pillow and listened secretly to the Paphos Free Radio transmission. I was afraid that the coupists, who were already in our back yard, would hear. Our home is less than a hundred metres from the the Saittas crossroads, where the EOKA B groups who were active in our area were already gathering. Their chief was Andreas Moustakas, and his lieutenant was the notorious Foris of Kolossi village, who was murdered some years ago in Limassol. What impressed me about Foris was his beard and his hoarse voice. I got to know their faces and names in the next few days, when I relaxed, and like the curious child I was, approached the makeshift headquarters they had set up at the crossroads.
Moustakas and his... braves set up their headquarters in a nearby grove of apricot trees. The interrogation section was under one big tree. Another tree sheltered the armoury. Under yet another sat the chief, issuing instructions about the operations that should be carried out. Among these was the takeover of the police stations in the area. From what I remembered, all four stations (Kilani, Platres, Kato Amiantos, Lania) surrendered without resistance. I also remember some of the policemen unloading the weapons seized by the coupists under the apricot trees. I don't know if any of them are on the list of resistance fighters who were recently awarded promotions, but I wouldn't rule it out.
Some of the police vehicles also ended up at Moustakas' headquarters. The coupists' first priority was to erase the coat of arms of the Republic of Cyprus from the doors of the police Land Rovers. They did have some blue paint, but no brush. So they just splashed the paint onto the doors and let it trickle down and cover that accursed emblem. I know some of them who, today, are equally fanatic about supporting the... non dissolution of the Republic of Cyprus, but that's another story...
It must have been on the Tuesday or the Wednesday after the coup. Foris was sitting in the shade of an apricot tree, recounting his past experiences. If I recall correctly, he must have been a sailor. At one point, someone who knew me, told me: "Makarios, fill up this canteen with water". Foris, on hearing my name, jumped to his feet and asked me what my name was. "Makarios", I answered, trembling with fear. "No!" he answered in his hoarse voice, "Nicolaos!", referring to the given name of... President Nicos Sampson. The others fell about laughing. Foris laughed heartily, too. When I saw they were making a joke of it, I relaxed. But the joke carried on. It occurred to Foris that there could be no Nicolaos without a baptism. So they picked me up, all of thirty kilos that I weighed at the time, by the armpits, and led me to the nearby dam, where they held a mock baptism, naming me Nicolaos! To be fair, they weren't violent to me. They were making a joke, but I got stuck with... Nicolaos.
On the morning of July 20th, my mother rolled me out of bed: "Get up, the Turks are coming!" It was the most nightmarish awakening of my life. Of course, the war zone was far away. Two mountain ranges are interposed between Saittas and Kyrenia. That's why Saittas became the refuge, first of the Lomassolians, who were fleeing possible turkish bombardment of their city, and later for the caravans of refugees from the areas taken over by the turkish army.
So when "the Turks came", the braves of EOKA B loaded up their stuff on the cars, removed their road block, and disappeared. One would have thought that they went to the front to fight the Turkish Army. Actually, they went to the Turkish Cypriot village of Ayios Nicolaos, on the borders of the administrative areas of the Limassol and Paphos districts. I don't know what they did there. I have heard various reports, but I can't verify them because I wasn't there. What I did see, was several of the roadblock braves carrying spoils from the Turkish Cypriot homes back to my village in a truck. One of them was given a job in the Presidential Palace by Mr. Papadopoulos, but that too is another story...
When Moustakas and his men left the Saittas roadblock, I visited the "headquarters" again. In the shade of the apricot trees there were only footprints and empty cigarette packets. The road was covered in thousands of spent cartridge cases. I don't know how many thousands of rounds they fired into the air, but the area looked like a battlefield. Later, a scap merchant came, filled up several bags of cartridge cases,put them in a truck and drove off. Bronze has always commanded a good market price. At the root of one apricot tree, I found a belt of unused rifle ammunition. I took it home. With no regard of the risk, I tried prying one round open. I discovered that the propellant charge consisted of a material resembling short strands of spaghetti. I lit up one strand, and discovered that it was inflammable, and that after burning out, it would leave a permanent mark on the floor. Then, using these small spaghetti strands, which were, of course, gunpowder, I started to write on concrete surfaces the word MAKARIOS.
This is my personal experience of the coup. Because I have heard that, according to the special law voted by the House of Representatives, it is possible for schoolchildren to also be registered in the record of resistance fighters, I am hereby claiming the inclusion of my name in the above record, and the rewards arising there from. I am a resistance fighter because I am the only Makarios that stood up to the coupists face to face. I am a resistance fighter, because in secret, and without regard for the danger, I listened to Paphos Free Radio. I am a resistance fighter, because I wrote the word MAKARIOS with gunpowder from the coupists' arsenal. I therefore claim compensation for moral damages. I want a government job and a fighter's pension. And I wouldn't say no to a medal, either...
Makarios Drousiotis - Politis
13/02/2005