Was he wearing shorts and a t-shirt when he was buried?... Did his blond hair shine under the burning sun of the island?... How long did it take to dig his grave?... Was it a `normal` grave or a small one, just to fit a five-year old boy?...

Had he suffered or did he die quietly?...

And those who had buried him, what did they feel, all these years, at night when they lay in their beds to sleep? Did sleep come easy? Did they see him in their dreams? Did they wake up, horrified, with a shock, after so many years? Did they have constant nightmares? Was the fear so big that one of them, still refuses to speak but only whispers to one of his cousins that he thinks he recognized him from the pictures published in the newspapers?

What was it like, all those years, living with the dead body of a `missing` child, a five year old child, a blond child who died in the military hospital in Dikomo?...

He would have been 39 years old now had he not gone `missing` - he would have gone to elementary school in his village if the war did not touch our country, if the war did not tear it apart, if the war did not come raging, bringing with it all the blood and all the filth to last a lifetime and maybe more… In the village, he would have climbed trees, laughed, cried, fell on the ground, got up, cleaned his knees, played hide-and-seek and perhaps lingiri or would have got pirilli to exchange with the kids of the neighbours, all cousins since people in the villages are all relatives somehow… He would have graduated from elementary school and would have gone to secondary school, perhaps in Nicosia? And coming from a village, he would have looked at the traffic, all the new cars and old buses, all the hustle and bustle of the city…

He would have grown blond, with freckles on his cheeks to turn heads of girls as a teenager… He would have gotten into mischief with his friends, perhaps teased a girl just for the sake of teasing because at those ages, you do things just for fun and you don’t think twice about, whether it’s right or wrong. You do it just for a laugh…

He would have gone back to his village to help his family over the weekends – his mother would have given him some money to spend in the city – he would have wanted a new bicycle, perhaps a Raleigh, perhaps red and shining – he would want a car much later because cars in those days were not easy to come by…

He would have finished the secondary school but it is not clear whether he would want to go to university. Perhaps in Athens? Or London as all other Cypriots would do? But perhaps he would have gone for getting a skill like being a carpenter or a car mechanic… He would have worked as an apprentice some years until he became a master of his skills and then perhaps he would have opened shop himself in Nicosia because this would be where `life` is, not down in the village that would seem `small and boring` for him…

He would be in the prime of his life now, at 39 years, perhaps married and perhaps with kids… He would shine, with that blond hair and with freckles… His smile would melt hearts of the ones who loved him… His mother would take care of his children perhaps and he would work hard, to give a decent living to his family, struggling to survive in this cursed but beautiful island called Cyprus…

He would have kissed his mother’s hand on religious days perhaps – that’s the custom of the Turkish Cypriots so I am not sure, if a similar custom exists with the Greek Cypriots… What would he do on such holidays? Would he visit all the elderly, teaching his children, the customs of this country? Or would he want to go to the mountains or by the seaside to make shish kebap and relax with his family? Would he like mountains more than the sea or would he take up fishing or hunting to be able to relax and be with himself alone, for some hours, away from home, away from the noise and hustle of the children?

Since two different readers at two different times have told me about a possible burial site of a five year old child brought from Dikomo military hospital to be buried back in 1974, I have been thinking about him… The burial site is in Kyrenia Boghaz, at the edge of a military cemetery… One of my readers, the relative of a bulldozer operator, told me how, the old man who was burying dead bodies in 1974, remembered burying a child on this spot… He had seen the photos of little Christakis in the newspapers so he thought he had recognized him…

Another reader, whose cousin was a soldier stationed around that cemetery also called in to relate the same story – his cousin had been on duty and they had brought a child to bury from the Dikomo hospital. After he saw the photos of little Christakis in the newspapers, he too, thought that he recognized him… They had buried him at the edge of the cemetery…

I share this information with the Missing Persons Committee and some preliminary digging is done, with the help of the bulldozer operator but they cannot find the boy’s body… Perhaps the bulldozer operator is mixing up the trees that he had thought he had seen around this grave… Or perhaps the area has changed a little bit so he cannot remember, after 34 years, where exactly he had buried him… Perhaps I should bring the mother of little Christakis, Mirofora, to this bulldozer operator and perhaps she can motivate him to try to remember more clearly, where exactly he had buried this child…

The second witness to the actual burial of this child, one of my reader’s cousin,   refuses to come and show us the exact location… He just gives some instructions but he is terrified of being `mixed up` in such a case… No matter how hard I try, it proves impossible to get through to him…

So I sit and think of this unknown child – barely five years old – who was brought to be buried… He would have been 39 years old now had he lived, he would have had blond hair and freckles and his smile would have melted the hearts of those who loved him… He would have had children of his own and perhaps he would drive his car through the Kyrenia Boghaz where he is possibly buried now, to show them what Kyrenia looked like…

Often I think of that little body, `missing` from the hospital bed in Dikomo… Perhaps one day, the heart of someone would melt and he would overcome his `fear` to come forward to show us, where exactly he is buried in this cemetery in the Kyrenia Boghaz…