Snapshot: Nicosia Echoes

Mosques in both Greek and Turkish Nicosia issue the Muslim call to prayer. But who responds?

THE MUEZZIN’S CRY, —which calls the Islamic faithful to prayer five times a day—echoes from both the Greek and Turkish sides of the Medieval-walled city that’s at the heart of modern Nicosia. This might seem counter- intuitive, because the Turkish Cypriots have been barricaded into the northern part of the city since ethnic violence erupted in 1963. But Arabic guest workers on the Greek side worship at a former Turkish Cypriot mosque just

across the Green Line. The Ömeriye Camii was originally part of a 14th century Augustinian Monastery, before being converted to a mosque. It sits on a cobblestone square, across from Nicosia’s historic Turkish baths, which are also on the Greek side of the Green Line.

The minaret pictured above belongs to a small mosque in the Arabahmet district, which is in the Turkish part of Nicosia. This was the view from the balcony of my room in the Saray Hotel. But the main call to prayer on the Turkish side doesn’t come from this minaret—it richochets through the narrow alleys surrounding Selimiye Camii, which was formerly Ayia Sophia Cathedral. When the Ottoman Turks stormed Nicosia in 1570, they immediately occupied this Roman Catholic stronghold, which the Lusignans had built to tower over the Greek Orthodox churches nearby. The Ottomans quickly converted Roman Catholic churches on the island to mosques, while leaving many of the Greek Orthodox churches intact. Today, the loudspeakers of Selimiye Camii broacast the adhan, the muslim call to prayer. Although it overshadows the calls from the much smaller mosque across the Green Line that’s frequented by Arabs, in fact they’re identical. The adhan is traditionally in Arabic, no matter what the local language is.

When I stopped by Selimiye Camii one steamy afternoon last summer, the dozen or so men and young boys who had gathered for the afternoon prayer were dwarfed by the vast red-carpeted interior. Most, if not all, were probably workers from Turkey rather than native Turkish Cypriots. The Greek and Turkish Cypriots aren’t only divided by their different faiths—but by a starkly different degree of religiousity. Many Turkish Cypriots told me that they were “Muslim in name only.” They’re usually lax about attending the local mosques, if they go at all. But Greek Cypriots are often very devout. On Sundays, services in their villages are standing room only. Sometimes worshippers even overflow out of the church doorways, standing on the flagstones and straining to hear the melodic chanting of the Greek Orthodox priests within. It’s hard for me to imagine a Greek Cypriot saying that she was “Greek Orthodox in name only.”
tCr