Cyprus
'Eurogeddon': deserted streets of a country closed for business
Ever
since the credit crunch turned into a currency crisis, Europe has
asked: what will it all look like when the cash dries up? Now we know
the answer: Cyprus.
22
March, 2013
Eurogeddon
is sweeping the island. Its leaders are still working to avert
catastrophe, but for residents, it had already struck.
Unlike
a Hollywood film, there is no stampede out of town. No-one can afford
to waste the petrol.
The
motorway that traverses the island connecting Paphos in the west to
Limassol and Larnaka in the east and the capital Nicosia in the north
is nearly deserted.
No
more than a few dozen cars lit up its entire 100-mile length.
To
say there was no Friday afternoon bustle would be an understatement.
Every shop along a strip on Archbishop Makarios Avenue in central
Nicosia reported to have had not a single customer all day.
"People
just don't have the money," said Georgia, a lingerie saleswoma
To
say there was no Friday afternoon bustle would be an understatement
She
is a living example of the spectre of financial disaster shadowing
the continent. She trained as a kindergarten teacher in her home city
in Greece - but kindergartens have shut in its austerity drive and
she lost her job, before moving to Cyprus.
Now,
like most of Nicosia's residents, she has no idea what will happen
next.
"They
say the banks will open on Tuesday, and this problem is only because
of the banks," she said, a rather more hopeful analysis than
that of economists. "But who really knows? They have to take a
decision right now - in minutes, not days."
There
were signs last night that Cyprus's political leaders and the
"Troika" of eurozone representatives were moving towards
that decision, perhaps saving the core of the banking industry and
the euro itself but far too late to prevent the fall-out for the
wider economy.
That
appears to be what the EU's leaders wanted. Germany in particular
wanted to force Cyprus to accept that, as Chancellor Angela Merkel
put it, its business model was "broken", and it had to
start again without all its Russian cash.
Russian
investors will lose heavily in the plan, which sees a tax on all
deposits over 100,000 euros (£85,000) and those who have invested
more than that in Cyprus's most troubled bank, the Laiki or Popular
Bank, losing up to 40 per cent.
So
will the bank's employees, who took to the streets around parliament
on Friday to protest
"I
never expected this would happen," said Despo Pambaka, a
customer services manager. "They are trying to take our lives,
our money. This is not the Europe that we went into. Germany showed
her real face."
Miss
Pambaka shows the intractability of Cyprus's crisis and why Germany
is so reluctant to come to its rescue. She said she had an
outstanding mortgage of 200,000 euros. She is just 28, and her annual
salary is 18,000 euros.
That
mismatch of income and debts is Cyprus's problem. Her boss, Nitsa
Sarka, a senior manager, who has worked for the bank for 39 years,
said she had a mortgage of 230,000 euros despite a gross salary of
just 4,000 euros a month.
Significantly,
her "provident fund" - the pension and social security fund
- was held as security against the mortgage.
It
is hardly surprising that Cypriots are battening down the hatches.
They
are preparing for worse: even more stringent capital controls will
also be in place by the time the banks reopen, under the new plans.
There
may be fewer cars on the roads, but a Lukoil petrol station on the
road to Laiki's headquarters building said its trade was actually
booming - people were using what money they had to stock up, in case
supplies ran out, said Artemis Psaro, the manager.
That
headquarters itself, new, all steel and glass and outside tubes, will
stand like so many new HQs across the developed world, as a monument
to folly. It will also be a monument to misfortune, for both Cypriots
and their new leader, Nicos Anastasiades.
In
AJ's, a fashionable wine bar near the lingerie shops, a sole table
was occupied yesterday lunch-time, rather than the usual dozens of
Friday revellers. The four young women, secretaries, were eating
"while the ship sank", they said.
"We
have to have confidence in the president in the end," said
Christiana Philippou, 28. Maria Ioannou disagreed. "No-one can
save Cyprus now," she said, tucking into her salad like a
condemned man on the eve of execution.
"No-one,
not the president, not Merkel, not anybody."
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