Cyprus' crumbling buffer zone

By Malcolm Billings
BBC, Cyprus

Minefields placed along the dividing line between the two parts of Cyprus 30 years ago, are starting to be cleared. But the buffer zone, where most of the mines are, remains out-of-bounds and the historic buildings caught in the middle are now on the verge of collapse.

The streets in Nicosia's no-man's-land are full of weeds and pot holes.

Trees grow out of shop fronts.

All the buildings are pockmarked with bullet holes.

Windows are smashed.

It is really a ghost town and there is an eerie silence about this place.

I was right in the middle of a busy capital city, yet so effective was the baffle effect of a jungle of trees and shrubs, that for much of the time all I could hear was the sound of my own footsteps crunching through glass and gravel.

No other people, no cars, except for an occasional UN patrol of soldiers in blue berets.

Birds, foxes and rabbits, not to mention rats and snakes, think that they own the place and are not troubled by barbed wire entanglements and mine fields.

Behind sandbagged positions on the tops of buildings and observation towers on both sides of the zone, Turks and Greeks watch each other while unarmed UN observers still check to see that the rules laid down 30 years ago are upheld.

Ruin

I was with two members of the UN-sponsored group who have had permission to survey the zone and shore up some of the most rickety buildings.

We passed a pile of rubble. "That was a house until it collapsed last year" said Agni Petridou, a conservation architect working for the city council on the Greek side. "We were too late to save that one."

This United Nations project is one of many in Nicosia in which teams of architects and town planners have been drawn from both the Turkish and Greek communities.

Organised by the two mayors of the divided city, they got on with jobs like repairing the city's sewage system and restoring streets of derelict houses while the opposing governments hurled insults at each other across the green line.

Decay

But the buffer zone is the biggest and most sensitive challenge so far.

Mine clearance has begun, but it maybe too late for many buildings

For a start it is a deceptively huge area of the city - about 20% - with almost 200 buildings in danger of collapse.

We stopped outside a small medieval church. The buffer zone here is only a few metres wide - just the width of the road.

Town planner Stephos Papanicolaou pointed out two coats of arms carved in stone over the entrance to the porch and a fresco underneath.

"Last year'' he told me "some of this fresco fell off the wall. It's not going to be there for much longer''

The problem here is that most of the church is in the Turkish military area that butts on to the UN buffer zone and as yet the Turks have not permitted any restoration here.

Nearby there is a building called Annie's House.

In 1974 Annie refused to leave the buffer zone and no amount of UN diplomacy could dislodge her.

So she stayed and UN patrols escorted her on shopping trips and kept an eye on her. When she died at the age of 90, UN soldiers arranged and paid for her funeral.

A fine looking building with an imposing entrance flanked by classical columns was once a classy hotel.

"Not safe to enter!" I was told. But we got into a building nearby, where, strewn about the corridors, were samples of fabric that were once sold there.

A panama hat covered with concrete rubble and dust had been on the floor since 1974. "How has all this stuff survived?" I wondered.

"Very few people have been in here over the past 30 years," Angi said as she spotted a carbon copy of an old letter. "Look, it's in French" she said holding it up to the light. "It's about an order for fabrics from Paris. I'll take it to the museum, it's a bit of history."

In an underground car park among evil smelling puddles, I saw dozens of cars lined up.

Architects and town planners are more concerned about the immediate future of the vulnerable buildings in the buffer zone

Some have smashed windscreens, all have flat tyres and are covered with a deep layer of grey dust.

But the cars are brand new, only a few miles on the clock and just one careful owner - the Toyota agent who imported them days before war overwhelmed the city.

Some years ago, a couple of UN soldiers polished one up, put petrol in it and it roared into life.

In the meantime architects and town planners are more concerned about the immediate future of the vulnerable buildings in the buffer zone.

The mayors of both sides want to restore them and open up the centre of the area where a famous medieval silk market used to be.

The national governments, however, cannot agree. But the buildings cannot wait.

Architects from both sides agree that action is urgent if the winter rains are not to reduce more historic buildings to piles of rubble.

From Our Own Correspondent was broadcast on Saturday, 20 November, 2004 at 1130 GMT on BBC Radio 4. Please check the programme schedules for World Service transmission times.