My name is Farid, and I have lived in Cyprus for ten years. I arrived in 2016 with my wife and children, hoping to build a stable life and contribute to this country as a dentist with fifteen years of professional experience.
I came to Cyprus, full of hope and determination to build a new life. I was a dentist in Iran with years of experience, known for my skill and dedication. I believed that in Cyprus, a European country, I could continue my profession, contribute to society, and raise my children in a safe and fair environment.
From the very beginning, I tried to integrate into Cypriot society. I learned Greek, respected the culture, and followed every rule. In 2019, my third child — my daughter — was born here. I named her Sophia, a Greek name, because I wanted her to grow up feeling part of this country. Cyprus became my home.
My dental degree was officially recognized by KY.S.A.T.S. However, I was told that to validate my specialization, I must pass three dental exams — Restorative Dentistry, Oral Surgery, and Fixed Prosthodontics — all in Greek. Even if I pass these exams, the Cyprus Dental Council only grants a professional license to EU passport holders or those married to EU citizens.
Over the years, I discovered that being a non‑EU migrant in Cyprus means living without rights.
When I first opened a bank account at Bank of Cyprus, they told me that if I didn’t buy a house within one year, they would close my account. I had no choice — I was forced to buy a house just to keep my bank account open. I bought two small apartments in Kato Paphos. Later, I started renting my apartments through Airbnb and Booking.com. From the first day, I paid all my taxes honestly — including GESY contributions, the national health system tax.
Yet, after ten years of paying taxes, I still have no right to use GESY. My wife’s leg has been swollen for a year. When she went to the emergency department at the General Hospital, they asked for €100 just for entry, plus all treatment costs. She returned home without care, because the private insurance required for migrants covers almost nothing. I pay GESY every year, but I am still called a “visitor” — with no right to work, no right to medical care, and no recognition as a resident.
Even the Tourism Department issued me a license for my apartments, acknowledging my business. Yet the government still refuses to grant me a work permit.
During the COVID lockdown, when borders closed and my apartments were empty, I had no income. I was searching for food in Lidl garbage bins to feed my children. I, a professional dentist who once treated patients with precision and pride, was reduced to scavenging for survival.
The Bank of Cyprus continues to charge me €1,000 every year just to keep my account open — only because I am Iranian. I beg them to reduce it, and sometimes they agree to €750. During COVID, when I had nothing, they still demanded €500. I paid it because I had no choice.
After ten years of living here, paying every tax, following every law, and trying to be part of society, I am still labeled a “visitor.”
What kind of country calls someone a visitor after a decade of life, investment, and contribution?
Cyprus has become my home, but I have no rights here.
I have learned that human rights are not equal everywhere. In Cyprus, it seems that only the money of migrants matters — not their humanity.
I was once a respected dentist. Today, I am a broken man who has seen how easily dignity can be crushed under bureaucracy and prejudice.
Farid Ghotbi
Konia, Paphos, Cyprus
