He wanted to exist only on paper

Opinion human rightsmigration He wanted to exist only on paper ΕΞ ΑΦΟΡΜΗΣ ΠΕΜΠΤΗ 20 ΑΥΓΟΥΣΤΟΥ 2026 Relevant News He wanted to exist only on paper 20 August 2026 South Korea estimates North Korea has up to 120 nuclear warheads, far above Trump’s figure 20 August 2026 Israeli warns Turkey against ‘dangerous adventures’ in Syria; Syria says no Turkish build-up planned 20 August 2026 Marios Demetriou 20 August 2026 FacebookXWhatsAppEmailPrintViber The union leaders’ complaints about the exploitation of third-country nationals in hospitality dug something up from the past. Faces from the long, grinding years I spent reporting on migration. Faces like that of the Asian man in old Nicosia who owned nothing in this world, not even his own name. They called him “Nikos” at the hotel and at the bakery, where he worked as a labourer, for a crust of bread, as he put it himself. And he worked illegally, because until a few years ago the Labour Ministry only let asylum seekers work in farming and livestock. Never in hotels. Never in food service. Never anywhere that might actually pay a living wage. He walked into the room of a crumbling old block on Trikoupi Street where I was interviewing the tenants, all students, and sat down beside me. He’d been waiting on his asylum claim for years, and at thirty he looked twice that. His teeth were gone. His cheeks had hollowed out. His cheap clothes hung off a body stripped down to nothing. Only his eyes gave him away: black, burning, still fiercely, stubbornly alive. The younger men from his country had handed him this strange, unofficial role. Spokesman. Translator. Go-between. Because he was older, because he’d been in Cyprus longer, because someone had to be. He talked to me in a warm, tumbling mix of half-Greek, half-English, trusting me with people and places back home I’d never heard of. His family, who’d opposed the dictatorship. The ten-year prison sentence for his politics. The escape, the chaos of it, how he’d washed up in Cyprus of all places. The fear, always the fear, of ever going back. We went out and walked towards Onasagorou, him still talking as we passed the shanty huts other migrants had thrown together in the narrow back streets. He counted himself lucky, he said. Two jobs. A roof over his head. That “roof” was a shared warehouse: one of the city’s old storerooms, built a century ago, the kind with heavy iron doors and rusted metal shutters that make the whole place look like a prison. Cardboard boxes and a handful of cheap odds and ends were his furniture. An old television, his one luxury. He showed me his passport. His temporary residence permit. Then he asked me not to use his name. Not to photograph him. He wanted, it seemed, to exist only on paper. One more invisible man, erased before he’d even arrived, swallowed by a city as hard as it is deceitful. Subscribe to our Newsletter Latest News South Korea estimates North Korea has up to 120 nuclear warheads, far above Trump’s figure Israeli warns Turkey against ‘dangerous adventures’ in Syria; Syria says no Turkish build-up planned Trump warns of economic consequences for any country that supports Iran Cyprus ranks mid-tier on EU minimum wage when adjusted for purchasing power German paper says Greece-Cyprus-Israel cable project gaining new momentum Elephant deaths under investigation in Kenya’s Amboseli ecosystem On this day: Usain Bolt sets new world record in men’s 200m race in 2016 Follow en.philenews on Google News and be the first to know all the news about Cyprus and the world.