There has been a lot of bloodshed and animosity throughout this island's history and generational trauma is rife. Sometimes it is so subtle and so deeply hidden that it is left unnoticed by an imperceptible eye. Some leave it unresolved and pass it on to the next generation, only to go further down the line.
It is only when someone recognizes something is wrong, a daughter or a grandchild and chooses to question beliefs so imbedded in the older generation's psyche, that the trauma does not pass on to their own children.
In Cyprus, we have lived through struggles and war and the generation that lived through it, bear the scars and memories of such black and dismal years.
In her book 'The Island of Missing Trees,' Elif Shafak discusses family trauma and brings to light all that has not been spoken.
"If families resemble trees, as they say, arborescent structures with entangled roots and individual branches jutting out at awkward angles, family traumas are like thick, translucent resin dripping from a cut in the bark. They trickle down generations. They ooze down slowly, a flow so slight as to be imperceptible, moving across time and space, until they find a crack in which to settle and coagulate...Divided islands are covered in tree resin which, though encrusted round the edges, is still liquid deep inside, still dripping like blood. I have always wondered if this is why islanders, just like sailors in olden times, are strangely prone to superstitions. We haven't healed from the last storm, the time when the skies came crashing down and the world drained of all colour, we haven't forgotten the charred and tangled wreckage floating around, and we carry within us a primeval fear that the next storm might not be far off."
It is in our hands to face our struggles and demons. It is a fire burning and can only be quenched by an admission of the ugly, disturbing truths of days gone by.
