Cyprus, as I Saw It in 1879

by Sir Samuel White Baker

In a few minutes we were descending a lane so narrow that the gipsy van only cleared the walls of the houses on either side by three or four inches. This lane had been paved centuries ago with stones of all sizes, from a moderate grindstone to that of a football. When people had wished to build a new house, they had taken up a few stones to make a foundation; the street was a series of pitfalls filled with mud and filth, including miniature ponds of manure-coloured water. The surface appeared impassable; the projecting water-spouts from the low roofs stuck out like the gnarled boughs of trees. Here was a pretty mess!—all because Georgi's wife was in town. It was impossible for anything larger than a perambulator to turn, and as the springs yielded to the uneven ground, the van bumped against the walls of the houses and threatened destruction. "Halt!" was the only word, and as the drag-shoe was on the wheel, we stopped. At this moment of difficulty a priest and some old women appeared with earthen vessels smoking with burning olive leaves; they immediately passed the smoke beneath the nostrils of the oxen, then around the van, and lastly ourselves. At the same time some good young women threw orange-flower water over my wife and myself from pretty glass vases with narrow necks as a sign of welcome. The incense of the priests was supposed to avert the "evil-eye" from the gipsy van and our party. I felt much obliged for the good intention, but I did not mind the "evil eye" so much as the water-spouts. In my experience of travelling I never met with such kind and courteous people as the inhabitants of Cyprus. The Dali population had already blocked the narrow streets from curiosity at our arrival, and soon understanding the cause of our dilemma, they mounted the housetops and tore off the obstructing water-spouts; where these projections were too strong, they sawed them off close to the eaves. A crowd of men pushed the van from behind, and guided the oxen, while others assisted by digging up the large paving-stones that would have tilted it against the house-walls. In this manner we arrived without serious accident upon the bank of the river which ran through the town. There was an open space here which was crowded with women and girls, who, with feminine curiosity, had assembled to see the English lady. Among these was the prettiest young woman I have seen in Cyprus, with a child in her arms. Her large blue eyes and perfect Grecian features were enhanced by a sweet gentle expression of countenance. She seemed more than others delighted at our arrival. This was Georgi's wife!—and I at once forgave him for deceiving us and yielding to the natural attraction of his home.

We were not quite out of our difficulty. Several hundred people had assembled, and all spoke at once, raising their voices in the hope that we should understand their Greek better than if spoken in a moderate tone: (why people will speak loud if you do not know their language I cannot understand:) but as we were utterly ignorant of their meaning we were not confused by their differences of opinion respecting our direction. It ended in our crossing the stony bed of the river, through which a reduced stream only a few inches deep flowed in the centre, and having with difficulty gained the opposite bank a hundred yards distant, we soon arrived in a sort of natural eel-trap formed by a narrow avenue of gigantic olive-trees, the branches of which effectually barred our progress and prevented the vans from turning.

A temporary loss of temper was a natural consequence, and having ridden in advance for about half a mile, I returned and ordered a retreat. We took the bullocks out, and by hand backed the wheels, until by shovels and picks we could clear a space for turning. We then re-crossed the river, and disregarding all native advice, struck into the country, and halted near a small grove of olives close to the new English road to the military station "Mattiati."

It was the 4th of February, and the temperature in the morning and evening was too cold (43 degrees) for pleasant camping. In spite of a chilly wind, crowds of women and children surrounded our vans and sat for hours indulging their curiosity, and shivering in light clothes of home-made cotton-stuffs. The children were generally pretty, and some of the younger women were good-looking; but there was a total neglect of personal appearance which is a striking characteristic of the Cypriote females. In most countries, whether savage or civilised, the women yield to a natural instinct, and to a certain extent adorn their persons and endeavour to render themselves attractive; but in Cyprus there is a distressing absence of the wholesome vanity that should induce attention to dress and cleanliness. The inelegance of costume gives an unpleasant peculiarity to their figures—the whole crowd of girls and women looked as though they were about to become mothers. The coarse and roughly-tanned, uncared-for high boots with huge hobnails were overlapped by great baggy trousers. Above these were a considerable number of petticoats loosely hanging and tied carelessly at the waist, which was totally unsupported by any such assistance as stays. A sort of short jacket that was of no particular cut, and possessed the advantage of fitting any variety of size or figure, completed the attire. The buttons that should have confined the dress in front were generally absent, and the ladies were not bashful at their loss, but exposed their bosoms without any consciousness of indelicacy. There was no peculiarity in the arrangement of the hair, but each head was tied up in a cloth, either white or some gaudy colour, which, once gay, had been sobered in its hues by dirt. In spite of this neglected exterior, the women had remarkably good manners; they seldom approached my wife without presenting, with a graceful gesture, some wild flowers, or a little bunch of sweet herbs, which they had purposely gathered, and we were quickly made rich in quantities of double narcissus, marigolds, and rosemary. Upon our arrival at a town or village the girls and boys would frequently run to their gardens and provide themselves with either a single flower, or rosemary, with which they would await us in the street and offer them as we passed by. Throughout Cyprus we have received similar well-meant attention, and the simplicity and delicacy of the offering contrasts in an anomalous manner with the dirty habits and appearance of the people. Even Georgi's pretty wife was untidy about the hair, although she was in her best attire; and a close inspection of all women and girls showed that their throats and breasts were literally covered with ancient and modern fleabites. Their dwellings are extremely filthy, and swarm with vermin, as the fowls, goats, or even a cow or two, generally increase the domestic party. It is well known that Paphos in Cyprus was the supposed birthplace of Venus, and that the island was at one time celebrated for the beauty of women and immorality: the change has been radical, as I believe no women are more chaste, and at the same time less attractive, than the Cypriotes of the present time. They are generally short and thickset; they are hardly treated by the men, as they perform most of the rough work in cultivation of the ground, and, from the extreme coarseness of their hands, they can seldom be idle; the men, on the contrary, are usually good-looking, and are far more attentive to their personal appearance.

Dali was an interesting spot to any agriculturist. The soil was exceedingly rich, as it had been formed, like all valleys in Cyprus, by the alluvium washed down from the surrounding hills; these were from three to six hundred feet above the level of the plain, and were composed of the usual hard species of chalk and gypsum; thus the deposit from their denudation by rains supplied the chief constituents for the growth of vines and cereals.

There is a depressing absence of all recent improvements in journeying through Cyprus; even at Dali, where the water from the river was used for irrigation, and large farms in the occupation of the wealthy landowner, M. Richard Mattei, were successfully cultivated, I could not help remarking the total neglect of tree-planting. The ancient olive-groves still exist by the river's side, and, could they speak, those grand old trees would be historians of the glorious days of Cyprus; but there are no recent plantations, and the natives explained the cause in the usual manner by attributing all wretchedness and popular apathy to the oppression of the Turkish rule. This wholesale accusation must be received with caution; there can be no doubt of the pre-existing misrule, but at the same time it is impossible to travel through Cyprus without the painful conviction that the modern Cypriote is a reckless tree-destroyer, and that destruction is more natural to his character than the propagation of timber. There is no reason for the neglect of olive-planting, but I observed an absence of such cultivation which must have prevailed during several centuries, even during the Venetian rule. It is difficult to determine the age of an olive-tree, which is almost imperishable; it is one of those remarkable examples of vegetation that illustrates the eternal, and explains the first instincts of adoration which tree-worship exhibited in the distant past. I spent some hours with the olive trees of Dali; they were grand old specimens of the everlasting. One healthy trunk in full vigour measured twenty-nine feet in circumference; another, twenty-eight feet two inches. Very many were upwards of twenty feet by my measuring-tape; and had I accepted the hollow or split trees, there were some that would have exceeded forty feet. There can be little doubt, that these olives throve at the period when Idalium was the great city in Cyprus; they may have exceeded two thousand years in age, but any surmise would be the wildest conjecture. It may not be generally known that the olive, which is of slow growth and a wood of exceeding hardness, remains always a dwarf tree; a tall olive is unknown, and it somewhat resembles a pollard ilex. When by extreme age the tree has become hollow it possesses the peculiar power of reproduction, not by throwing up root-shoots, but by splitting the old hollowed trunk into separate divisions, which by degrees attain an individuality, and eventually thrive as new and independent trees, forming a group or "family-tree," nourished by the same root which anchored the original ancestor.

The gnarled, weird appearance of these ancient groves of such gigantic dimensions contrasted sadly with the treeless expanse beyond, and proved that Cyprus had for very many centuries been the victim of neglect. The olive is indigenous to the island, and the low scrub jungles of Baffo, the Carpas district, and other portions abound with the wild species, which can be rendered fruitful by grafting. In selecting trees for the extension of forests, there is a common-sense rule to guide us by observing those varieties which are indigenous to the country; these can be obtained at the lowest cost, and their success is almost assured, as no time need be lost from the day of their removal to the new plantation. Such trees as are rendered fruitful by grafting offer peculiar advantages, as the stocks already exist upon which superior varieties may be connected. The principal food of the Cypriotes consists of olives, beans, bread, and onions; they seldom eat what we should call "cooked food;" whether this is owing to the scarcity of fuel, or whether it is natural in this climate to avoid flesh, I cannot determine: some say the people are too poor, and cannot afford mutton at twopence a pound, while at the same time they will not kill the oxen that are required for purposes of draught; they refuse the milk of cows, and only use that of sheep or goats. The fact remains that the country people seldom eat butcher's meat, but subsist upon olives, oil, bread, cheese, and vegetables.

Under these circumstances it would be natural to suppose that the accepted articles of consumption would be highly cultivated and superior in quality; but the reverse is the fact. The olive-oil is so inferior that foreign oil is imported from France for the use of the upper classes; the olives are of a poor description, and, as a rule, few vegetables are cultivated except in the immediate vicinity of town markets, the agricultural population or country people being too careless to excel in horticulture, and depending mainly upon the wild vegetables which the soil produces in abundance. If the people are too inert to improve the qualities and to extend the cultivation of vegetables, it is easy to comprehend their neglect of the tree-planting so necessary to the climatic requirements of this island.

The oil-press is similar to the old-fashioned cider-mill of England. The fruit, having been dried in the sun, is placed in a circular trough in which the stone wheel revolves, driven by a mule and pole. When sufficiently crushed, and reduced to a paste, it is divided into basketfuls; these are subjected to pressure by the common vertical screw, and the oil is expressed, but is not clarified. It is generally rancid and unfit for European consumption. In travelling through Cyprus the medicine-chest may dispense with castor-oil, as the olive-oil of the country is a good substitute. By the government report, the yield of oil in 1877 was estimated at 250,000 okes (of 2 3/4 lbs.) valued at about nine piastres per oke, but during the same year foreign olive-oil to the value of 1,706 pounds sterling was imported. There can be little doubt that special attention should be bestowed upon the improvement of the olive cultivation in Cyprus, and grafts of the best varieties should be introduced from France and Spain; in a few years an important improvement would result, and the superabundant oil of a propitious season would form an article of export, instead of (as at present) being converted into soap, as otherwise unsaleable.

Our crowd of female admirers was happily dispersed by a slight shower of rain, and by clouds which threatened a downpour; the men remained, and a swarthy-looking thoroughbred Turk promised to accompany me on the morrow and show me the neighbourhood. I was informed in a mysterious whisper by a Cypriote "that this man was a notorious robber, whose occupation was gone since the arrival of the British;" he had formed one of a gang that had infested the mountains, and his brother had murdered a friend of Georgi (the van-driver), and was now in gaol at Rhodes for the capital offence. The Turk was very intelligent, and thoroughly conversant with the various methods of breech-loading firearms; he examined several rifles and guns belonging to me, and at once comprehended the mechanism, and explained it to the admiring crowd. When this individual left our camp in the evening, the story that I had heard in outline was corroborated by the driver Georgi, who asked me to exert my influence to procure the hanging of the murderer now at Rhodes, as the Turkish authorities would never execute a Turk for the murder of a Greek unless influenced by foreign pressure. It appeared that the Cypriote had informed against one of the gang for cattle-stealing, accordingly several members of the fraternity picked a quarrel with him at a drinking-shop one evening at Dali, and stabbed him fatally. My new acquaintance, the Turk, was not present during the fray, and I could not promise Georgi the intervention he desired.