There is a sea of consciousness that is universal, even though we each perceive it from our own shores
– Alberto Villoldo
Our portal onto Cyprus was through the Taşucu port. On the other side of an 8 hour night time boat ride would be the Turkish territory of Cyprus. From there, we would cross into the Greek-Cypriot territory. Despite the politics, what I really cared about was finally getting to work. Little did I know how much politics would play into my time on Cyprus.
As soon as GG’s wheels hit port, we were instructed to book it to the internal border, as it would be closing shortly. Also to please drive on the LEFT.
This new development would effectively close us off from our ferry back to the mainland, which did not seem like a major concern to me as we were HERE.
Crossing the internal border was a wakeup call in geopolitics; barbed wire, shelled out buildings and the “United Nations Buffer Zone” signs over oil drums made it clear both sides did not mix. In a blur, we booked our Airbnb for a month using Chance’s wifi and then headed straight for the Dignity Center in Old Town.
The first thing I noticed about Old Town was the silence. What used to be old charming Cypriot buildings were now in various forms of decay and destruction. Some small businesses hinted at life in the area, even though the most common pedestrians were alley cats.
Credit: Roman Robroek
The Dignity Center stands as an oasis of activity and care within the barricaded walls of the old Nicosia. It is run by Refugee Support Europe (RSE), a charity based out of England. In order to participate as a volunteer, an in depth interview is required, as well as some fundraising via Facebook. I was fortunate enough to donate $654 to the cause, and for everyone that gave a little, it means a lot!
It would be an understatement to say I was nervous. Reality was finally catching up with me, and I just hoped I would not be swallowed whole. What if I couldn’t handle the work, or be of any use?
My worries did not last very long, as I was immediately welcomed as part of the team. An international medley of volunteers and coordinators gathered close for one of many group photos we would take. It soon became clear that bonding and documenting that bond was part of the work: to attract more volunteers to Cyprus. But when would the real work start? My perception on helping would shift deeply as the days would rush by.
For the time being though, I would be shown around, introduced to members and volunteers alike, and explained the rules and routines involved in keeping the place running smoothly. Work is 6 days a week, 9-10 hours per day. At the end of Day 1, I felt exhausted and troubled. Clouds brewed in my mind until Chance came to pick me up. The clouds cleared as I was handed a gentle reminder to be patient, in the shape of a bouquet of flowers.
