As
a citizen of a ‘democratic’ country, I am compelled to exercise my right to the
freedom of speech. Expressing one’s
thoughts and opinions about the current state of affairs has become a favourite
past time, particularly in Cyprus. The
masses have invaded the corner coffee boutiques; these havens of backgammon and
long winded frappe-drinking sessions, have rapidly transformed into parliaments
of political rallies: troops of disgruntled people voicing their concerns over an
ailing economy, a banking system that can only be deemed “effective” – if one
is playing by their own rules, and a government that resembles a barnyard fiesta.
Admittedly,
one would not want to assume any administrative role during these problematic
times, but one has to acknowledge the kindergarten antics of the faunae trying
to manage the island. And what’s more
alarming, is the state of decay on the streets which are constantly overlooked
by the disciples – the mayors, who believe that a few hanging plants, dotted
around the old market, will disguise the string of bankrupt shops, lining the cash-stricken
streets of the town. I’m appalled at the
notion of Pafos presenting itself as the “Cultural Capital of Europe in 2017”
without any functional theatre in sight.
And even more alarming, is the confidence of these individuals, marketing
themselves to the coffee-induced masses for a vote in the upcoming European parliament
elections.
Undeniably,
there are a few worthy candidates floating around; fingers crossed for the
honest, pro-active individuals to represent our injured nation abroad.
The
local channels are airing their daily low-budget soapies; scenarios that could
easily convince one to grab the nearest object in sight and cause self-induced
bodily harm. I reach for the electricity
account, resting unopened on the coffee table; the amount due could easily impose
heart failure. I continue to work my way through the pile of envelopes, lost
in a sea of supermarket specials, listening simultaneously to the news; the “Cyprus
Problem” is on the agenda.
“The
focus of resolving our island’s four-decade division is of vital importance,”
says the barnyard autocrat, pounding his fist on the podium as his glasses
steam up. A roaring applause ensues –
members of his own political party, idolising their rooster. A plethora of empty promises are made as the
camera captures an ironic grin confirming a solution to the island’s division,
no matter what the cost. A thought
bubble suggests that, “I will be the one who goes down in history as the man
who resolved the Cyprus issue.”
More
news. The tourism board has reported
that Cyprus is on the mend, thanks to the influx of tourists heading to our
sun-soaked shores this summer. A slight
hint of optimism, as we begin polishing our social skills, fine-tuning our
renowned joie de vivre, and practice our glass-balancing-on-our-head talent to
impress the tourists. In true Cypriot
style, we unfurl the red carpet at both airports, raise the prices on our menus
and souvenir items, and wait for our European brothers and sisters to help
management put our country back on
track.
Weight
for me soon. Paul
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