Ahmet Şimşek

If you were to ask Ahmet who he is, he would somewhat modestly say he is an ordinary 26-year-old who writes stories. But he is much more than that.

Ahmet made his debut as an author in 2021 with his book Hammurabi, a collection of short stories. It’s named after the ancient Babylonian king, renowned for his Draconian rule and harsh laws, such as the infamous ‘eye for an eye’. In Ahmet’s stories, these laws appear mentally, not physically; his characters pay for what they did in their past with psychological torture, by remembering their traumas over and over. The book draws parallels to northern Cypriot society — both for Cypriots and Turkish immigrants — and its reckoning with itself, its past, its identity. It explores how the characters must accept who they are, be that an ‘anti-hero’ or noble. 

Readers of his book are almost instantly confronted by a profound struggle for identity. The son of two Turkish immigrants, Ahmet has called northern Cyprus his home since he first arrived at the island as an infant. He is Cypriot, he stresses, with Turkish roots. But in the eyes of other Cypriots — both from the south and the north — he has always been an immigrant. 

“When writing about identity, I avoid conveying a specific message to the reader. I am not aware of how my experiences and life influence my writing. At least until publishing.” 

Ahmet explains that upon releasing his book, he received a flood of feedback from his readers. Many of them had questions surrounding his portrayal of identity through his stories. But he emphasizes that, when he was writing his book, that was never something he expected his readers to take with them.  “Maybe it’s like ‘not being aware of the glass ball I am in,” he says. Identity is a concept he would rather leave to the readers to explore for themselves. 

The journey of getting Hammurabi to bookshop shelves proved challenging. According to Ahmet, he first tried his luck with a local publisher. After all, his stories were about Cyprus. 

“I thought with the publication of this book I would be saying ‘Hey, here I am. I am writing tales about [this place]. Somehow I am like you. I am from here. This is my, your, our stories’,” Ahmet says. 

His submissions were met with silence. So, he tried his luck with a publisher in Turkey. It worked. Hammurabi was first published in Cyprus in 2020, followed by a second release in Turkey shortly after. 

Ahmet says he thought getting his stories out would make him “more Cypriot.” He hoped that his literature would prove that despite his background, he is just as much a part of the island as Cypriot born individuals are. “In real life, It wasn’t like that exactly.”

“ Maybe at first with the excitement of the book I felt like that. But after all I noticed people were saying ‘the immigrant kid wrote a book. See the immigrants somehow trying to integrate. Look, somehow Turkish immigrants are adopting’. This was precisely the opposite thing of what I wanted to happen.”

In Turkey, the media describes Ahmet as a Cypriot author. But in Cyprus, the very island he calls home, he is still an immigrant. He admits that the situation makes him feel uneasy. 

“I am aware of this situation. Why do they say that? In Cyprus, there is this red line that we have to solve, talk, discuss or get over as a society. If someone from [the Cypriot city] Kyrenia says ‘An immigrant guy writes short stories’, even when I describe myself as a Cypriot author in Nicosia — this is a mistake of the Cypriots.” 

“Because the people in Turkey, they call me what I want. They call me a ‘Cypriot writer’. This is the result of not solving identity problems which we have to talk about, discuss or try to solve in northern Cypriot society. This is not the issue in itself, but rather the result of the issues we already face as a society”.

Even though others might want to complicate things, Ahmet affirms that his identity is clear. He is Cypriot, he says; “more Cypriot than I am Turkish.” “When I think of the two countries, I feel like I belong here, in Cyprus. But that doesn’t mean that I refuse my origin, or even that I am ashamed by it.”

 “Don’t you think people can be both of them? Why not?”. 

The young author goes on to describe how Cyprus and its people, just like much of the world, is changing. Evolving, even, into something different. More diverse.  

“Somehow we should be able to see that we have changed. The Cypriot identity is evolving. Maybe the change is happening more rapidly because of incoming international workers and students. And that’s a good thing! And it’s inevitable. You can’t stop it. At some point, you can only accept it. And you should.”

Ahmet would like Cypriots to accept the changing face of its people. With all their new  “faces, colors, and cultures.”

“What does it even mean, to be Cypriot? This reminds me of a joke: Being Cypriot is like heading to the city from the village, riding your donkey. You have this funny joke you would tell in the village and make people laugh. On the way, you tell yourself, ‘When I arrive in the city I will tell my joke and everyone will have fun; they will laugh’. But when you arrive to the city, you notice that the joke has become old and no one’s laughing any more. 

“I think being Cypriot is just like that; noticing the joke is not funny any more. I think people should notice that this joke is already old and no longer makes sense. Everyone has their own ‘jokes’ — or stories they keep on telling. But they all get old.”

Throughout history, the island has had more than its fair share of nations leave their mark behind. From the ancient Mycenaeans, the Venetians, the Arabs, the Ottomans, and more recently, the British, each passing civilization has left slivers of their presence — whether big or small. “In our books on Cypriot history, I remember, there was never just one Cypriot culture,” Ahmet affirms. Therefore, insisting on defining a homogenous Cypriot identity, for which some meet the criteria and others don’t, is pointless. 

“I don't feel like I am a child of only one nation, and I think that counts for all Cypriots.”

No matter the true meaning of Cypriot identity, he admits that having been described as a ‘Cypriot author’ in Turkey was the first time he truly felt Cypriot. “I think it’s a bit ironic,” he says. 

Owing to his Turkish background, Ahmet, under the current political situation, is not entitled to Cypriot citizenship. According to the Republic of Cyprus (and by extension the European Union and general international community), foreign individuals entering the island from the north — and therefore ‘occupied’ land currently not in control of the government — have entered the country illegally. To make matters even more complicated, the crossing points between the south and north are not considered to be legal sovereign borders. Therefore, individuals who reached the island from the north are considered ‘illegitimate migrants,’ who cannot enter the RoC through the crossing points.

In simple terms, this means that people with a similar background to Ahmet are barred from crossing to the south. As a result, more than half of his country is inaccessible to him. “Maybe you would say I am only from half of Cyprus” he says. 

Anything south of the crossing points is but a figment of Ahmet’s imagination. His experience of his country, his city even — Ahmet resides in Nicosia, the world’s last divided capital — has been confined to the 3,355 km2 of land north of the UN-run green line. 

“I feel like all of Cyprus is the one I can see. Of course, we’ve met many people from the south. If I ever had a chance to see [the south of the island], I would love to see Larnaca. Most people I know always talk about it.”

In mid-2021, Ahmet had an opportunity to cross to the south for the very first time. He was invited by the French Embassy in Nicosia to a reception marking France’s Independence Day, after he had translated and published a French book. However, the convoluted nature of the Cypriot problem and his status on the island meant he was unable to attend.

“This was a ticket for me, for the first time in my life, to go see the imaginary region of Cyprus. Before that, I wasn’t even thinking of crossing the checkpoint to see what lays beyond. I thought the rule is the rule. But this time, I was just so excited to see the unknown land. 

“Now, I am more aware that this place exists. That people are living on the other side”. 

Ahmet Şimşek is from Nicosia, Cyprus. He lives in the north. If you were to ask him about the south, he wouldn’t be able to tell you anything. The Nicosia he knows is only the North.