NICOSIA – Since its founding, Caritas Cyprus’ mission has been the same as that of the Caritas Internationalis confederation - to provide for those in need, protect the vulnerable and give a voice to those who would otherwise go unheard, in particular those affected by the tragic events that divided the island in 1974.

 Now because of the island’s geographical location—at a crossroads of continents and cultures—people fleeing various crises in Lebanon, the Middle East and from regions farther afield have come here in search of refuge and better conditions in which to live and find hope and safety. Others journeyed to what they thought was a course of study or a job only to fall victim to trafficking and exploitation. Many experienced violence, deception and hardship; some survived torture, slavery and abandonment. All have had to face the pandemic as well, far from home, without certainty and on the margins.

 Currently, Cyprus is receiving more asylum seekers per capita than any other European Union country. Caritas Cyprus has tried to respond to the challenge of accommodating and caring for so many and is working to fill the gaps in the social safety net. Thanks in large part to their partnership with Catholic Relief Services and the relationships they have built with other organisations, churches, communities and individuals, they kept their doors open throughout the pandemic and provided support to more than ten thousand individuals across the island. Many of them have been forced to leave their homes and loved ones (some come from across the world, others from down the street). Their needs may be basic, such as food or clothes or more complicated, such as completing a form, translating at a hospital, finding emergency shelter and protection from violence and gaining access to medical care or legal advice. Yet all must adjust, transition, integrate; all must pick up and go on. All must learn to start anew.

 TESTIMONY 1 (Middle Eastern)

 As someone far from my own home, family, village, people and country, I am often asked who I am. The questions are not meant to wound but they feel like blows. “Who are you?” “Why are you here?” “What is your status?” “Do you expect to stay?” “Where will you go?”

 Every day, I have to reduce everything that I may be, or hope to be, or want to become, into a check mark next to a box on a form. I have to use a word or two to explain myself to one of the few who might choose to ask or to acknowledge that I am even here. What do I say? Usually I must choose “XENOS”, “foreigner”, “victim”, “asylum seeker”, “refugee”, “migrant”, “other”, but what I want to scream is “person”, “brother”, “friend”, “believer”, “neighbour”.

 Inevitably, I – and all of us – wander around wondering who we are.

 I am many things.

 TESTIMONY 2 (African)

 I am someone wounded by hate. Hate, once experienced, cannot be forgotten. It changed me; it changes us. Hate takes many hideous forms. There is the hate that leads one human being to use a gun not just to shoot another but to break his bones while others watch. There is the hate that can overtake someone’s soul enough to violate human life while coldly looking into their eyes, as well as the hate that can be calculating and unfeeling, that leads to planting a land mine, aware it will destroy anyone or anything that unknowingly passes by.

 I am hurt not just by the malice that maims, cuts or kills others, but by the disregard and neglect that sets fires, destroys forests, mines and scars the earth and pollutes the water that I need to quench my thirst and survive.

 I am pained by the hateful acts that make it impossible to learn, work or live on parts of our common home.

 And I am someone pained by the lack of love that makes me feel less than others, unwanted, a burden; by the subtle hate that robs me of a kind word, a much-needed smile on a cold day; by the barriers that keep me on the margins of the community in which I find myself.

 TESTIMONY 3 (South Asian)

 I am someone who is on a journey. I have had to run away from violence, bombs, knives, hunger and pain. I have been forced along dusty roads, pushed into trucks, hidden in the trunks of cars, thrown into leaking boats – deceived, exploited, forgotten, denied. I was forced on my journey.

 Yet my journey has also been towards something. I journey every day, anxious to reach a new destination. A place of safety and health, a place that affords liberties and choices, a place where I can give and receive love, a place where I can practice my faith and my customs proudly, sharing them with others, a place where I can dare to hope.

 My journey takes me towards the light of faith, knowledge and human companionship.

TESTIMONY 4 (young woman)

 I am someone who is full of dreams. I have big dreams – I dream of a world where no one is forced to fight, do battle, give up, flee or cry (except maybe for joy). A world where no one is ripped from their bed in the dark of night leaving behind favourite toys, abandoning everything to get away. I dream of world peace, of countries not fighting with each other and of people of the same country not hurting one another, denying each other freedom or human rights.

 I dream of beauty – the kind of natural beauty that brings a smile to my face. Children with their parents, families together, flowers blooming, water running, voices raised in song.

 Yet I also have small dreams. I close my eyes and dream of the smell of my grandmother’s cooking, the fields after a good rain that will nurture the seeds, the sea breeze. I dream of being top of my class and of becoming a doctor. And I dream of being welcome everywhere—here in church, in every classroom and shop. I dream of people being interested in me, not suspicious and of people being less surprised when I speak to them in Greek and I dream of others trying to talk to me in French.

 I dream of smiles.

TESTIMONY 1

 So, who am I? Who are you? We are many things. We are all different, but we are all also part of the same “we” here in Cyprus. “EMEIS EIMASTE EMEIS.”

 All of us are vulnerable to hate and in need of love.

 All of us are travellers who struggle to move forward faithfully every day in search of light and

warmth. All of us are on a journey that is easier together.

 None of us wants to be alone.

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