Director story / Our life as immigrants in foreign land, after the invasion of Cyprus in 1974
After Turkey invaded Cyprus in 1974, when everyone had to resort to a more secure place my family and I got in our cars and we drove to the mountains for refuge. We arrived at the house of my grandmother’s sister in a village named Korakou. She took us in and offered us her hospitality for seventeen days hoping that all would soon be over and we would be able to return to our home.
After we left Korakou we headed for the mountain of Troodos and we were offered by the nuns leaving in a nearby cloister a house that was not in use due to the summer vacations. We stayed there for a month and a half still waiting with some hope to see better days.
We had to leave Troodos and come to Nicosia because I and my siblings had to return to school. We rented the house of a relative who lived in England and we still waited for a solution that would allow us to return back to our home. Six months passed in grief and sorrow and we had to rent another house because our relative moved back to Cyprus and he needed the house for himself.
My father in partnership with his siblings opened a small confectionery, which they named MORPHO, the name of our beloved village. After having made an offer to the military services and receiving an order to produce small cakes in industrial proportions weekly we had a convenience life but also a life as refuges in our own country…
After nine months, and still away from our home, we received a call from Sweden. It was from my uncle who lived there; he was married and had three children. He told my father that he should consider moving since Sweden was a country offering opportunities for jobs, good school education and better living conditions than in Cyprus.
So, my father and six of his siblings decided to immigrate to Sweden. It was not an easy decision since we didn’t want to leave Cyprus but the prospect of a better life gave us hope. We left for “hell” having in mind the saying that is told in my country for immigrants “a bad witch called “foreign land” takes you away leaving behind your parents and loved ones”.
When we arrived in Sweden my uncle and aunt were expecting us and met us with great joy, after all they hadn’t seen us for almost ten years. They helped us to settle and also assist us to get our residence permits from the Immigration Office.
After getting our permissions all of us, children and adults, started courses to learn Swedish since it was essential. The adults after nine months of learning started to work. Meanwhile each family had its own apartment and the rent was covered by the Swedish Government during the learning period. They also helped us to furnish our apartments. After my father got a job the Government continued to cover the expenses for half of our rent. But even so, we barely made it because with only one person working it was difficult to support a whole family, even in Sweden.
Me and my three cousins started at kindergarten. We were not accepted from day one and the Swedish children welcomed us by making fun of us. They called us “Svartskallar” meaning “Blackheads”, we often got beaten and they showed us an incredible hatred. Because of that, we kept together playing aside and helping one another.
After a while we felt more confident with the language and we got approached by the Swedes and finally became friends with some of them. To those who kept their distance and continued to call us “svartskallar” we responded by calling them “small white pigs”. But the truth was that we were frightened because some serious incidents were happening around the country involving groups of Swedish people showing that immigrants were not welcomed.
After two years in the kindergarten at the age of seven I started in primary school. On Saturdays I went to a Greek school learning the basics. I had a very poor education in Greek language because it was impossible to cover the material of a whole year only on a few Saturdays.
Mean while my father bought a second hand ice cream machine “just in case” without having in mind that this decision would mark our future. As time passed he applied to the Municipality of Stockholm to get the permission for a kiosk to sell ice cream. The permission was granted so he resigned from his previous job and he opened his kiosk in a suburb area called “Velingby”.
He also bought our first car on a bargain, a Volvo from 1969, so he could easily transfer the ice cream from our apartment to the kiosk. He had his own business and earned fairly enough that allowed us to live in some comfort but also allowed us to make some savings each month.
Things in the primary school was little better than the kindergarten. You could choose among a variety of activities like volleyball, handball, basketball, and also had a football ground with real grass. The school had also a big dining room. We went by class and sat all on the same table to have our lunch. In the beginning I felt a little uncomfortable since I couldn’t handle the cutleries as well as the other kids, but with a little help from my teacher I mastered them in no time. Afterwards we took our plates cleaned them from any food rests in a bin and piled them up.
Even if we were fairly adjusted we faced the well known bulling by the older kids and they still called us “svartskallar”. They usually hand pushed us on our way back from school and we got beaten up while they called us names. Our parents went often to the principal and complained about this situation but nothing changed. So we decided that it was time to defend ourselves so I simply asked my older brother to help us. Our plan was that my brother would follow us from distance and when it was time to interfere. So a particular day we left from school knowing that my brother was nearby, watching. As we were walking, two older Swedish boys came towards us and started to beat us, swearing at the same time. It took seconds before my brother was chasing them and after he got them cornered he gave back all the beating we got from them in triple dose. Early next morning the same boys asked us if they could become our friends… so peace was accomplished. But you could still hear the word “svartskallar” here and there..
Adults had the same treatment by the elder Swedes but in a smaller scale. I remember once a large group of about 5.000 Swedes challenged a group of immigrants carrying knifes and chains. In no time people of different nationalities like: Greeks, Italians, Turks, Yugoslavs, Spanish and other came forward to support the small group of immigrants that had been challenged. Even if they were less in number, maybe around 500 people, that didn’t prevent them from beating up the Swedes. After that confrontation things chilled out for a while but started all over again later on.
My father applied to the Municipality of Stockholm to get permission for a second kiosk and got granted for second time. It was more difficult to get it because the spot he applied for was central and to be honest maybe he faced difficulties just because he was a foreigner.. But thanks to the help from a Swedish friend, who was not prejudiced and actually liked people from other nationalities, finally got his second permission. My father never forgot his good friend and his kindness so he was inviting him often to our home for dinner.
The second kiosk was larger than the first one and beside the ice cream he also had permission to prepare fast food such as hot dogs, hamburgers and also to sell soft drinks. My mother was sole responsible for the preparation of the ice cream, which was made at home. She had some help from my sister but not for long because she was about to start classes at the University.
He hired a Cypriot to run the first kiosk in Velingby. We lived in comfort but we still made savings because now we had as goal to build us a home in Cyprus. After all we wanted to get back to our country as things over there were looking better (1977).
Business was growing fast and my father bought a second ice cream machine. He made ten flavors of ice cream (vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, peanut cream, rum, pineapple, coconut, pear, pistachio and lemon).
One day a man came by and ordered an ice cream paid for and left, as any other customer. The difference with this man was that he was a reporter which made a survey looking for the 10 top ice creams in the country. And when the results were announced in the newspaper our ice cream was elected as No. 1! the best part was that we had no idea since we didn’t buy any newspaper that day. And suddenly the cue with customers got longer and longer. They all wanted to have a taste of the best ice cream in the whole country! After that day everybody knew where to find the top ice cream OLYMPOUS and we felt very proud as Greek Cypriots.
During the weekends my parents worked in shifts because of the long hours, they opened at 8:00pm and worked up to 4:00am. My mother took the day shift and my father the night shift. It was after all dangerous to work at nights since some weird guys who considered themselves as “cool” were circulating with big American cars and after having too many drinks could cause troubles. Once my father ran into someone who with the threat of a gun asked him for food since he had no money to pay for it. Fortunately my father realised that the gun had no bullets so he stepped out and confronted him. Afterwards the guy apologized and my father offered him a free meal.
In 1977 my sister entered the University of Stockholm. Her goal was to take a degree as beautician and open her own business in Cyprus. My brother would follow after two years since he also wanted to study in the University and become a mechanical engineer. As I was the youngest I went to the primary school, first grade, and not having anyone to speak Greek except my cousins I learned the Swedish language well.
As time was passing my father travelled to Cyprus and in 1977 with our savings he bought a plot in Dasoupolis, Nicosia. Our next goal as family was to continue our efforts for more savings in order to pay off the plot, which we managed to do after one year. Our next goal was to build us a house. We doubled our efforts and worked very hard in order to fulfill our common dream though we had difficulties.
After two years my sister got her degree and she wanted to move back to Cyprus to open her beauty salon. My brother got accepted in the University and I was about to start on the third grade at primary school. But I spoke more and more Swedish and started to forget my mother language and my parents decided that it was better for me to move back to Cyprus together with my sister. So when it was time for the big returning my parents, my sister and me got into our car and started the big journey. We traveled through Europe passing through different countries, Denmark, Germany, Austria, former Yugoslavia, Greece and finally by boat to Cyprus.
My parents were going to send my grandmother to Cyprus to stay with us when it was time for them to return back after helping us to settle down. We rented a house, big enough, so that part of it could be used for my sister’s business. The proper equipment was bought and she started to work right away. My father also applied and got the construction permit for our home while in Cyprus. It was the right opportunity now to start the construction since my sister could follow up and make the payments with the money that my parents was going to send her for this purpose. They made also the necessary arrangements for me to start the Greek school and they returned to Sweden. After a week my grandmother came to stay with us.
Unfortunately I had to go over the fourth grade instead of starting the fifth since my Greek was so poor.. it was really difficult and I made efforts to keep up. As it was proven, the Greek school in Sweden didn’t do a good job. But most of all I missed my parents very much. I couldn’t speak to them more than a minute on the phone before I started to cry..
Finally the constructional works began. The project was to build two houses, one for us and one for my sister. She was going to get it as a dowry.
I struggled through the fourth grade and managed to pass. The summer that followed I did some serious reading preparing myself for the fifth grade. And it paid off, things got better and I passed with less effort. But I still missed my parents very much and I kept thinking that probably I would pass classes easier if they were with me.
Everything seemed to have fallen in place. My sister earned good money and we had a comfortable life, I did well at school, my father’s business blossomed, the construction of our houses proceeded with no problems and my brother didn’t face any difficulties in the University.
Only one thing was making me sad, the fact that my country still was occupied by Turkish troops.
During the fifth grade my sister got engaged. Only my father managed to come for the occasion as my mother had to stay and take care of business. She would have the opportunity soon enough since the wedding followed shortly after.
Soon after my father left for Sweden the building of our houses were completed and we could move in. My sister rented a place and moved her business. I had also to change school because we lived now in a different area. I started the sixth grade at Acropolis Primary school. It took me some time to adjust and in the beginning it was difficult because I had no friends. The first days were worst and I went home crying. As time passed I did make new friends and for the first time I was among the best pupils as well.
I always spend my summer holidays in Sweden with my parents. I enjoyed helping my father in the kiosk and I even got paid three pounds per day because I could handle business by myself. I could easily prepare and serve food and ice cream alone giving my father the chance to do other things.
The main reason that my parents didn’t want to leave Sweden just yet was my brother. Because his young age they were concerned that he maybe got involved in some situation that could destruct him from his studies if he was left alone.
In one of my visits to Sweden I persuaded my father, after a lot of begging, to let me continue my studies in the English School. It was actually my brother’s idea since he graduated from the same school. His stories and memories from his years while he studied there were so exciting that made me want to live through the same experience.
I passed my entry exams and I was ready to start the seven long year education at English School. My grades of the first trimester were fair enough but got a bit worst on the second. With some extra effort I managed to pass my first year.
After two years in the University my parents were confident enough that my brother could now take care of himself. They finally sold their business in Sweden and moved back.
In Cyprus my father started his own business and he is importing automatic garage doors, metal roofing tiles and others. I’m doing great at school, though I still have some difficulties with the Greek language and this only because I didn’t have the opportunity to learn it properly until the fifth grade.
I want to say a big thank you to my parents because we owe them our lives and our education because without their sacrifice, efforts and support nothing of this would have been possible.
Stavros Loizou
(Written in Summer 1983 - age 13.)
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