The Palace of Vouni

'History in Cypriot schools is nothing but fairytales that suit the Greek nationalist agenda of our government. The Cypriot collective unconscious will be poisoned until we become ready to see reality as it is and as it was.', one hour into our discussion about the consequences of Cypriot partition  for the residents of Paphos Christiana Mouzouri, a local peace activist, finds drastic words for the state of her native country's education system. According to her, the Cypriot Ministry of Education ensures that the partition is here to stay by presenting murderers as heroes or handing out schoolbooks which have 'Never forget' along with pictures of Northern Cypriot archeological sites on their cover, amongst others. Even as history is always a selective story that serves the purpose of the powerful, Christiana is right when she claims that the version of Cypriot history which is taught in its schools is hindering to a sustainable peace building process, while the same is the case for the practices of the government institutions in the occupied Northern part of the mediterranean island. 

Last Sunday and one day prior to my discussion with Christiana Daisy, Hesther, Jenni and me seized the opportunity of having a day off and rented a car in order to explore the remote peninsula Akamas and the adjacent Greek-Cypriot / Greek -Turkish borderlands. While we only had a rough idea of what to expect from the unrecognised North of the country outside of its only major city Nicosia, we discovered a sign indicating the way to the 'Palace of Vouni' only a few kilometres after crossing the border. Ready for both an adventure and a toilet we spontaneously decided to follow the winding road uphill towards which the sign was pointing. Already a few minutes later our curiosity proofed to be fruitful as a majestic view of the surrounding area was waiting for us on the top of the hill. The information boards which we found on the windswept summit informed us about the history of the place and declared that what we saw were the remains of a spying post of the ancient Cypriot city kingdom of Marion which sympathised with the Persians. Furthermore the board underlined the 'eastern characteristics' of the palace built around 500 BC and openly contested the possibility of a Greek origin of the structure. Lastly, one could find out that the palace had been destroyed by the Persians after falling into the hands of the Greek and was never resettled after. 

After exploring the excavations we set out to return to the car as a grey stone caught my attention. It seemed remarkable as the writing had apparently been chiselled off of it. Upon inspecting it, it became clear to me that the original text had been in Greek and must have been created before the partition. The stone must have proofed to heavy to be moved from the secluded mountain top for the Turkish officials. The unmistakeable sign of erased history was shockingly obvious and I found it to be telling for the construction of history on both sides of the partitioned island.

As this active act of erasure had made me curious I consulted the local historian Giorgis P. about the origin of the ruins. Giorgis assured me that the ruins were of Greek origin. Even more puzzled than before I decided to look up the 'Palace of Vouni' in the Princeton Encyclopedia of Classical Sites which presented a more differentiated version of the history of the place. According to the American historians the history of the palace is as ambiguous and liminal as the history of Cyprus itself: scientists are still unsure of the origin of the place while the architectural features are both Greek and Persian and do not allow for a clear categorisation. In the age of nation states which are ideally ethnically and linguistically homogenous the heritage of Cyprus remains hard to put in a box. The need to create historical evidence for the cultural essence of contemporary states should nonetheless let us all reevaluate the usefulness of the currently prevalent model for the organisation of nations.