TRAGEDIES IN TOKHNI FROM THE MOUTHS OF SURVIVORS

Tokhni is a village situated in the north east of Limassol, a sea port in southern Cyprus. Until the year 1974, five hundred Turkish Cypriots and about the same number of Greek Cypriots lived there in separate quarters. Massive tragedy struck the Turkish inhabitants of the village on the 14th August, 1974, when armed Greeks took away at gun point all the available able-bodied males of ages ranging from 13 to 74 and massacred them together with 15 other Turkish Cypriot men from the neighbouring villages of Man and Zyyi. Only eighteen men managed to get away. They hid in the mountains until they could smuggle themselves from the surrounding Greek areas into Kophinou, a Turkish Cypriot village, where they lay low until they could be singly smuggled to the Turkish quarter of Nicosia.

The women of Tokhni were evacuated on the 25th October, 1974, by UNFICYP to Northern Cyprus and the village has now been re-constituted at Vouno, 10 miles from Nicosia. Turks now call it >New Tokhni= - - in other words Yeni Taskent, where women never smile but children grow up in security.

Below are the accounts of the tragic events that took place in Tokhni, related by some of the survivers in their own words.

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˜ The account of the 15th August, 1974 massacre related by Suat Hiiseyin, an eye-witness and the sole surviver, who got away miraculously.

" On August 14, 1974, some 20 Greek gunmen entered our village, Tokhni, and gathered 69 Turkish Cypriot men between the ages of 13 and 74. These gunmen had been patrolling the town daily.

" The following day, the 15th August, 1974, they brought to our village 15 more Turkish Cypriot men they had rounded up from the villages of Mari and Zyyi. They divided us into two groups. I was one of the 50 who bearded a bus guarded by four Greeks armed with automatic weapons.

" We passed Limassol, arriving at the Ayia Phyla-Palodhia road junction. Our captors ordered us down and told us to walk towards the isolated countryside. When we were told to stop, I noticed that the earth had been dug in places. These, I grasped then, were to be our graves. The four gunmen offered each Turkish Cypriot a cigarette. It was, I think at the third puff that the bullets came. I fell, I was shot in the belly and legs. I fell with the others, pretending to be dead. My face was covered with blood and the spattered brain of another victim. I then heard the four gunmen speak in the mainland Greek accent. That is the end of them, let's now go and bring a bulldozer and bury them.

"When they were safely away I gathered all my strength and crawled to the trees nearby. No one else appeared to have survived. Later I watched the common grave of my fellow-villagers bulldozed over. I hid in the hills for six days, managing in the end to get to the village of Moutayiaka. Gradually my wounds were getting worse. I was then taken by a U.N. ambulance to the Episkopi British base.@

˜ Zerin Mehmet of Tokhni recounts the tragedy of her life: "I was happily married with a loving husband and three little sons, and was seven months pregnant with my fourth baby. The 15th July, 1974, when opposing Greek camps assaulted each other, was the beginning of our misfortune. On that day we heard gunshots fired by some Greek gunmen of the village. We were terrified. Later we learned that some Eoka (Greek Cypriot underground movement) gunmen were celebrating their victory over the Makarios supporters. These shots signalled our future ordeal in the hands of the Greek Cypriot gunmen.

AIn early August 1974 my husband, whom I loved dearly, was collected from the village street by the Greeks. They wished to interrogate him about the arms and ammunition which they suspected to be in possession of the Turkish inhabitants of the village. They knew where the few arms that the Turks had were kept. In fact they had collected all the arms and ammunition that we had on 22nd July 1974. When interrogated, my husband told them the truth. One of the gunmen then commented: 'You are lucky you told us the truth, otherwise we would have shot you'. My husband knew how cruel these men were. He was caught iznd taken prisoner by them in 1963. We were not married then but he used to tell me how they arrested him on his way to work and how hard the Turkish authorities had tried to obtain his release, for which they had to pay a large sum of money. In early August, 1974, armed Greek men arrested many Turkish Cypriot able-bodied men and tortured them with the purpose of extracting information about the imaginary weapons they possessed.

AI shall never forget how our neighbour, Munir, suffered in their hands. He was a fat man. As he was very kind, we nicknamed him Ata (father). One day the Greek Cypriot gunmen arrested him too. He was taken away for sometime. When he returned, his back was as red as beetroot. He told us that they beat him with a hot iron bar. 'When the hot bar touched our bodies we cried our heads off he said. Few days later he was to meet his death, the same fate as his fellow village men.

AI vividly remember the 14th August, 1974. It was just before noon. We were sitting in the yard of the house of my mother-in-law, Sultan Kasif. Her house was at a rather protected location. So, eleven men, many women and children, all relatives, gathered there. The men were digging a trench for the women and children to hide in, in case of a Greek assault on them. The women and children were eating grapes. Suddenly a gunshot was heard. We panicked. The men ordered the women and children to go into the trench they were in the process of digging. The Greek gunmen were already in the house. They made their way into the yard by jumping over the wall, breaking through the windows and doors, and jumping into the yard. There were six Greek gunmen led by Andrikko, a Greek Cypriot from our village. They ordered everybody to come out: If the men do not come out we'll shoot the women and children.'

The Greek gunmen fired shots in the air in the Turkish quarter of the village. It was doomsday for our village. Women and children were crying, children were embracing their fathers and mothers. Some women fainted and fell on the ground. The gunmen declared that they would take away the men only. My mother-in-law, horrified, clung to her 13 year old son. 'Leave him' she pleaded with the gunmen. 'You silly dog of a Turk, are you still breast feeding him?' was the shuddering reply. They took away her husband and four sons.

My husband's aunt had a sole son. She begged Andrikko not to take him from her. Our sorrow and horror met with their sinister laughter. Just before they took him away, my husband Mehmet took me in his arms and said, 'Zerin, if I don't come back bring up our children with feelings of vengeance.' Then he kissed his three sons, the eldest, Kasif, 5 years old. Kasif ran after his father shouting 'Don't go, daddy, don't go, they will kill you!.' Even now Kasif wakes up with a nightmare, shouting 'Mummy, don't let him go! Daddy, don't go!'

The women and children who were left behind stayed and waited together in the hope that they might return. The Greek gunmen patrolled the streets day and night. They broke into some houses and stole valuables. They picked up an old man of 76, Izzet Gonelli by name, and took him away too. Nothing has been heard of him since. We spent many fearful days. It was not until the third day after the abductions that some members of the U.N. Peace Force arrived at the village. They set up check posts at the access points to the Turkish quarter of the village. Although armed Greeks were not supposed to enter our quarter some EOKA gunmen disguised as policemen managed to enter.

For two weeks we had received no news about our captive men. We were so worried and anxious that some women slipped away in search of their men. I was then eight and a half months pregnant with my daughter Ozlem. Dying to get some information about our men taken away I decided to make a point of my pregnancy to secure the assistance of the Red Cross in reaching Nicosia safely. At first objections were raised to my three children accompanying me, but upon my insistence they finally gave in and allowed my children to go with me. I reached Nicosia in the first week of September, and on the 15th of September I gave birth to my fourth child, a daughter. Poor thing, she was never to see her father."

Mubeccel Rasit relates how she, her two brothers and two sisters were torn apart from their father. "On the 22nd July, 1974, some armed men dressed in U.N. uniforms surrounded our village and collected the few guns that we had in the Turkish quarter. They were using U.N. cars, but one of them spoke perfect Greek. On the 6th August my father and some able-bodied Turkish Cypriot men were taken by the Greek gunmen to the police station of the nearest Greek village of Kalavassos, and subjected to torture by beating with hot iron bars. The Greek gunmen wanted to know if there were more guns in the village. In fact there were none left. After torturing my father they let him free. He was beaten so badly that he could not even lie down or drink the milk we offered him.

My father was a shepherd. The Greek gunmen kept pestering him. They mocked him saying 'You, there, look after your herd well; we'll need them all.=

My father was 43 years old then. On the 14th August, 1974 heavily armed Greek Cypriots entered our village. They were firing their guns indiscriminately. We were frightened to death. My father, who suspected that they had come for the men of the village, hid away. They forced him out of his hiding place saying that they would kill us, his five children, if he did not come out. For fear that they would carry out their threat he emerged from his hiding place. He handed his watch and the money that he had in his pocket to me. His five children were all there. He looked at us earnestly and with tears in his eyes asked our next door neighbour to take care of us as my mother was stranded in another village. He was rushed away at gun point. He kept turning his head back and looking at us until he was completely out of sight.

The following day he was taken away from the village together with 68 other men from Tokhni. We have not heard from him since."

23^rd July, 1974

The village was thrown into instant confusion. New went round that the Greek gunmen would search our houses for weapons. Anxiety and fear gripped everybody. They eventually did search some Turkish homes but they could not find any weapons.

24th July - 12 August, 1974.

Everyday we were left face to face with new troubling incidents. . . . Many Turkish men of the village were taken away and beaten up with hot iron bars. One of the tortured men related: "The Greek gunmen arrested us and took us to Kalavassos. There they beat us mercilessly. Later they made us dig some graves and in them buried us up to our necks. Tell us, do you have any more weapons?' they demanded. 'No' I answered. A shot was fired and whizzed over my head. 'Tell me if you have any, otherwise I will shoot you like a dog.' I heard a distant shot of fire. 'You see, we've just shot your friend. It is your turn next,' he said. 1 have no weapons' I replied. They dug me out of the grave. Exhausted I was dragged indoors. I had no hope for my friend. I thought he was really shot. They ruthlessly beat us up all one by one with hot iron bars until we were stiff with exhaustion."

14th August, 1974.

. . . .We were praying hopefully. At 10 a.m. we were glued to the radio, listening to the news. On raising our heads we found ourselves face to face with the Greek dogs of war. "Any men in there?" One of them demanded in Greek. "Don't worry, we'll take the men to the school building for questioning." I understood him all right, but I said in Turkish, "We don't know Greek, What's that you said?" He repeated his question. He took away all our men there. They even took away may elderly father.

. . . They were going round the houses. They broke down doors and wardrobes. They even smashed plates and stole money. Many of the men including Mustafa, Yüksel and Ahmet hid themselves but Andrikko, a local Greek gunman, was barking out: " Either all the men come out or I will kill anyone I find. " We were brought up to believe that prisoners came to no harm in the hands of their captors. All the ones they took they shut in the school which was surrounded by the Greek gunmen. Worried about the fate of our men we were in continuous tears. At nightfall we sent them food, cigarettes and blankets. We trusted them to God. We were praying God that He might at least take pity on the children.

15th August, 1974.

In the morning we sent some more food to the captives. Later we noticed a landrover full of men in black uniforms come to the village. We thought they were mainland Greeks. We were scared stiff and shut ourselves in our homes. We saw two buses come and take our men away. We were not sure where they were being taken. Some said they would be taken to Kalavasos and some to Limassol. We gathered at Hürmüse's house and prayed for our captive men and for those who evaded capture and fled.

16th August, 1974.

. . . We were left all alone in the village. Later some members of the U.N. Peace Keeping Force moved in and set up camp. Now we felt somewhat secure.

A BLOODY DAY IN PAPHOS - the 14th August, 1974.

Emboldened by the tact that the Turkish inhabitants of Paphos were unarmed, about 200 Greek gunmen attacked the Turkish quarter of the town or the 14th August, 1974. Walking or running in the streets the Greek gunner fired indiscriminately at the windows and doors of the Turkish houses. The Turkish quarter of the town was thrown into instant chaos. Seven Turkish Cypriote including a three year .old girl were mowed down. Detailed accounts of what happened on that day are presented from the mouths of the relatives of the victims.

Salih H. Kiral gives an account of the day when his daughter Rahme was murdered by the Greeks:

"The Greeks entered the ' Turkish quarter of Paphos on the 14th 'August, 1971. They gunned down the Turkish men that they lay their eyes on, and beat up the women and the old with the butt-ends of rifles. A few minutes later a Greek gunman called us to come out. We opened the door to come out. He moved us down instantly with an automatic weapon. We were bathed in blood. We were wounded, I on the head and the leg, my brother on the leg, my nephew on the belly and my daughter on the arm. The body of my other daughter Rahme who was 3 years old, was riddled with 40 bullets. A Greek who came in through the back door forced me and my daughter in my arms out although we were both wounded. A landrover belonging to UN Peace Keeping Force that was passing by halted on seeing us. Those in the landrover took us immediately to the Greek Hospital. After a few hours my daughter Rahme passed away. After bandaging my wound they took me to the prisoner's camp. Having spent five days there I was taken back to the Greek Hospital. My wounds were bleeding. As there was no vacant bed there I was sent to the Turkish hospital. Five months later I was taken by the Red Cross to the Liberated Turkish Zone. "

Zebra H. Kiral, recalls the day when her son Hasan and her grand-daughter Rahme were murdered by the Greeks:

" The barbaric Greeks encircling the Turkish quarter of Paphos entered it on the 14th August, 1974. They plunged into the streets of the Turkish quarter, gunned down the men, beat up the women and the old with the butt-ends of rifles. Faced with this situation we shut ourselves in our homes. Five or six minutes later a Greek named Ghatti having smashed the pane of the front door ordered us out. My son Hasan Kiral and myself came out into the yard to open the door. The Greek shouted out to my son, 'Come out, you dog.' 'Let me call the others inside' replied my son. But he forced my son out at gun point saying, 'Let the others come out later.' As my son stepped out he was seriously shot by the two bullets from the rifle of the barbaric Greek. Amidst the shots fired by the Greek I went to the open space, where the Turks were gradually gathering. The Greeks kept all the men there and ordered women and children to go back home. When I got back home my son was lying on the ground in a pool of blood. I then learned that my other two sons Ismail and Salih and my grand children Uhan and Zebra were wounded and that my grand-daughter Rahme was murdered. Thereupon I lost consciousness. "

˜ Akile Çakir lost three sons to Greeks; Ali Çakir died at the Turkish defence line in Nicosia, the other two were sought out at home in Paphos by the Greeks on the 14th August, 1974. Akile Çakir=s daughter, Melek Ibrahim, an eye witness, recalls the day her two brothers were brutally murdered by the Greeks:

"It was the 14th August, 1974. All the family including brothers and sisters gathered together at my brother's, Erdogan Çakir's, home. My brothers were marked men by the Greeks. My brothers knew that they could be murdered at any time so much so that an hour before he was shot Mustafa made his last wish saying I know very well that Greeks will murder us. When I die let the inscription, Long Live the Mother-land, God Protect the Turks, be written on my tombstone.'

ASoon the Greeks attacked the Turkish quarter. They walked directly to Erdogan fakir's home and knocked hard at the door. The Eoka men told my brother to open the door otherwise they would use force. My younger brother Mustafa opened the door. The Eoka man at the door unloaded his gun into him. Mustafa fell down in a heap at the doorway. Erdogan who was standing behind was fired on. He did not die instantly. Other members of the family started coming out. The women hid my remaining brother, Mehmet, among themselves in order to save him. When all the Turks in Paphos were horded to the playing field Mehmet was taken prisoner.

AU.N. Peace Keeping Force took my two brothers, Erdogan and Mustafa, to the Greek hospital. Erdogan was still alive. The following day when the bodies were handed in Erdogan was in an unrecognizable condition. They had tortured him to death.

ATogether with the other Turkish victims of the 14th August, 1974 my two brothers were buried after a moving funeral service. Their tombstones were inscribed as Mustafa had wished. The last words uttered by Erdogan when he was wounded was added to the inscription, >We Died Before We Could See The Victory.=@