In 2001, two years before the Turkish Cypriot government allowed people to pass through roadblocks, Andy Konstantinou visited the occupied territories of Cyprus.
His British passport gave him access to take photos of Kyrenia on behalf of the Greek Cypriot magazine which he was working for at that time in London.
A mission that was soon to take a different turn, he explains to Neos Kosmos.
“As soon as we finished the photo shoot in Kyrenia, I wanted to go through my mother’s village, Lapithos, to see her house. So I asked the Turkish taxi driver to take us there. We arrived in the village and I managed to locate the house in Agios Loukas.
At one point, I remembered that my cousin had asked me to find his grandfather’s house. Since I was in the area I told him I’d make an effort. I knew where it ‘fell’, but it wasn’t easy to find.”
It was then that fate took over in the form of a Turkish woman who had asked the taxi to pull over.
“She asked us if we were Greek Cypriots, we answered and explained the reason for our visit. She – a very kind lady – offered to treat us to coffee and sweets,” Andy recalls.
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At one point, the woman got up and headed inside the house. When she returned, she was holding a framed photo of a beautiful young woman, as she explained to Andy, had been left at home with the invasion.
Andy looked at the picture, handed it back and soon after got ready to leave.
But something was drawing him back to the photo and so he requested that the taxi driver turn back.
He pleaded with the old couple who eventually decided that they would hand it over to him.
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The 19 year old question
Andy found himself on the Greek side of Cyprus with the photograph of the unknown woman, eager to return it to its rightful owner.
Without wasting any time, he came contacted families from Lapithos, as well as with the Union of Lapithiotes in Nicosia in the hope that someone would recognise the woman, but to no avail.
The photograph even made it onto Cypriot news channels, however the question of who the photography belonged to still remained a mystery.
Andy’s time in Cyprus came to an end and after his return to London, he published the photo in magazines and newspapers in hopes that one of the 400,000 Greek Cypriots in the UK would recognise her.
With no leads and an exceptionally busy life, the photograph was left forgotten in a draw.
Nineteen years later, after cleaning his house, Andy became reacquainted with the beautiful woman.
By chance he joined a “Lapithos” Facebook group and without a second thought, he posted the photograph there.
“Within an hour the response was incredible and to my great surprise I received a message from someone who recognised the image. At first I thought it was funny that after so many years this photo was suddenly recognised by a post on Facebook. I was very excited and very happy that I finally managed to reunite the photo with its original owners. At some point, without knowing the reason, I burst into tears,” says Andy.
The other side
The “mysterious” girl was no more.
The first to recognise her was one of her three daughters, Elena Christodoulou. “She is my mother,” she commented on Andy’s post.
The photo was that of Androula Christodoulou, the daughter of Modesto and Harita who lived on the road to Agia Anastasia in Lapithos and now residing in Doncaster, Melbourne.
Her husband, Mr Christodoulou told Neos Kosmos the photo was taken 52 years ago and stayed at that home with all the belongings of her family with the invasion of ’74.
“The photo was taken shortly before Androula left Cyprus for Australia in 1968. When the invasion took place, her parents and siblings living in Lapithos left the house and took nothing with them, thinking, as well as everyone else, that in a few days they will return,” says Mr Christodoulou.
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A picture worth 1000 words
Ms Christodolou was overcome with emotion. It is not just a photo, it is what it represents for itself but also for an entire people.
The photo holds the dreams and expectations of the Greek Cypriots who were displaced overnight in July ’74.
The photo now sits proudly in the Christodolou’s house where it belongs.