The rapes in the Cyprus war are shrouded in silence

Countless women never had children, never married, many were “shipped” abroad to have an abortion or to reveal the secret to another country.

It took almost half a century for Cypriots to finally begin talking about one of the worst atrocities that occurred after the 1974 invasion: the rapes.

Many have taken their secret to the grave. In a society that shames survivors, the stories about the true fate of Greek and Turkish Cypriots are shrouded in silence.

The summer of 1974 may have started out wonderfully for some. The sun was shining, the flowers were in full bloom. No one could have predicted that hundreds of women would be raped in the course of a large-scale war. That many men would be raped after being captured.

Today we can say that they were raped. Back then, the victims were “taken away”. Or in some circles, “they let it happen”, “did not fight back enough” or “were torn to pieces by the Turks”, explains Akel MP Skevi Koukouma, as she talks about the atrocities committed against Greek Cypriot women.

Terms like PTSD didn’t exist for the general public 50 years ago. Depression and anxiety weren’t used by the public in the way society does today.

The violence occurred at a time when women were often persecuted after their rapes, by families ashamed of having a daughter who was no longer a virgin; by in-laws who pressured men to divorce their wives who “brought shame on the family”; by relatives who tried to “set up” the women to give them the appearance of virginity and marry them off to anyone they could get their hands on, young, old, sick or even dying, just to bury the secret.

Koukouma says the stories that were kept secret are endless. No one will ever know the full extent of it. Countless women never had children, never married or deliberately allowed themselves to become physically degraded as they fell into increasing despondency and depression, she says. Many were “sent” abroad to have an abortion or to reveal the secret to a faraway country.

Out of sight, out of mind. At least that’s what they hoped.

“People knew who the victims were. The Turkish soldiers who raped did not do so secretly,” says Koukouma.

A report by the European Commission of Human Rights, adopted by the Council of Europe in 1976, recorded repeated rapes of women of all ages, from 12 to 71, “sometimes to such an extent that the victims suffered haemorrhaging or psychological ruin.”

“In some areas, forced prostitution was practiced, with all the women and girls in a village being rounded up and placed in separate rooms in vacant houses, where they were repeatedly raped by Turkish troops,” the report said.

Many were raped in front of their families, including their children. Some were locked up in their homes and abused at gunpoint. Others were deliberately left with marks to help them tell the story of what happened.

“And society carried on as if nothing had happened,” says Koukouma.

In Chrysanthos Chrysanthou’s book “The Other War, That of the Doctors in 1974,” doctors report on the flood of young and old women who came to the country’s hospitals for treatment.

Some had tears streaming down their cheeks and expressionless eyes. Others tried to hide their faces by covering them.

A woman in her fifties screamed mercilessly: “I want to die, I want to die.”

Koukouma played a central role in breaking the taboo of wartime rape in Cyprus. She fought hard in 2015 to ensure survivors received state support, both psychological and financial, after seeing too many women living in squalid conditions.

Currently, around 80 Greek Cypriot women are receiving state support. Not a single man has yet come forward to the state and admitted to rape.

Koukouma is also vehemently opposed to the cover-up of the fact that both Greek and Turkish Cypriots were raped. The atrocities that took place should not be politicised for one side’s own interests, she argues.

“No one wants to talk about the taboos surrounding the rape of Greek Cypriots. And no one wants to admit that Eoka B. committed such barbaric acts when it comes to the rape of Turkish Cypriots.”

“We (Greek Cypriots) refuse to accept that we could be capable of such things.”

While information about rapes of Greek Cypriot women is sparse and slowly coming to light, far less is known about the rapes of Turkish Cypriot women.

This is because the Maratha, Santalaris and Aloda massacres ensured that no one survived to report on the violence that took place in the Turkish Cypriot villages.

And while there is a wall of silence surrounding the rape of women, the truth is hidden under concrete blocks for men.

“For men, it is an even more shameful taboo. They believe their masculinity is lost forever,” says Aliki Hadjigeorgiou, chair of the non-governmental organization Zoe vs. War Violence.

The charity’s aim is to raise awareness of rape as a weapon of war and to offer support to victims and their children.

She says the exact number of victims will never be known. Hadjigeorgiou estimates that more than 1,500 women were raped in 1974. Koukouma says she has heard that 800 women are in circulation, but cannot say whether that is true.

While there is some evidence in the number of abortions performed – another element of the atrocities that is often hushed up – there is, of course, no evidence in the case of men who were raped.

At that time, parliament passed an emergency amendment to the law that allowed abortions for rape victims. The amendment had the blessing of the church.

Numerous women underwent this procedure, many of them taking buses to the British bases to have their abortions there.

They then had to endure the shame that society placed on them.

“Just when these women needed support the most, they were shunned and harassed,” explains Hadjigeorgiou.

Both Hadjigeorgiou and Koukouma say some women have actually given birth to the children conceived through rape. Again, information is scarce and neither wants information to become public for fear of potentially identifying someone. It’s a small country.

Now there are efforts to erect a memorial to honor the victims. “They should be honored for the suffering they endured,” says Hadjigeorgiou.

Even though 50 years have passed and nothing may have ever changed for the survivors, it is a symbolic sign of recognition – albeit half a century too late – that they are being recognized and supported, she adds.

Koukouma and Hadjigeorgiou call on all survivors to come forward and voice their opinions.

“They should not be ashamed. It is not the victim who should be ashamed, but the perpetrator,” says Koukouma.