By Constance Kartambis
Fifty years ago, the serene streets of Paphos, Cyprus, were abruptly engulfed by the chaos of conflict, forcing countless souls to abandon the lives they had built.
On July 20th, 1974, Turkey invaded Cyprus. The invasion saw 160,000 Cypriots flee the country, forced to start a new journey elsewhere. The majority fled to the United Kingdom, Australia and Canada.
The invasion took place against a background of intercommunal violence between Greek and Turkish Cypriots, and was in response to a Greek military junta-sponsored coup d’etat (executed by the Cypriot National Guard) five days earlier. It led to the Turks capturing and occupying the northern part of the island.
Among the thousands who escaped in 1974 were my grandparents Avyi (aged 22) and Agyri (aged 27) Kartambis, and my father Nick (aged 2), their existence altered by the war that swept through their homeland.
“My husband and my two-year-old child slept in underground tunnels, while there were people blowing up our homes,” said Avyi Kartambis.
Arriving in Sydney in 1974, stripped of the comforts and certainty of their former life, they faced the profound challenge of starting anew with no money, very limited English and a culture that felt distant and foreign.
Yet, within this uncertainty they found the seeds of resilience. They rented a house in Sydney’s Newtown for only $35 a week, when Agryi was earning $80 per week as a bricklayer and Avyi volunteered as a dollmaker in a nearby warehouse.
The early years were spent living in poor housing conditions, with barely any money to afford basic survival items. With a two-year-old by their side, they spent countless nights in fear of break-ins and theft (which had happened many times since their arrival).
Avyi would attend English and grammar school, to assist her with the foreign language, in hopes of acquiring a stable career.
Fast forward 50 years, a lot has changed for Agyri and Avyi. They find themselves with six grandchildren living in a beautiful home in southern Sydney, where they thrive on gardening.
As they reflect on their passage from Cyprus to Australia their journey transcends mere survival, becoming a profound narrative of adaptation and the enduring human spirit in the face of life’s unforeseen upheavals.
Agyri is open about the trauma he still faces.
“The sirens used to go off every day at 5.30am before the invasion would start, and still 50 years later I wake up around the same time every day,” he said.
“I also find myself uneasy whenever a plane passes above my house. In Cyprus they used to throw bombs outside planes. I never want to experience that fear again.”
Avyi said: “I never wish the early part of my life on anyone. My son crying in my arms when we were in hiding was the worst. I look at my grandchildren now and I am so happy they never have to experience what my son experienced … I am so grateful.”
The journey today stands as a reminder that even in the face of unimaginable hardship, perseverance can most certainly lead to a brighter future.
Featured image: Avyi and Agyri with their first grandchild in 2006. Photo: Supplied