Woman and shop are both many things

In a store that reflects its perky, restless owner THEO PANAYIDES finds himself surrounded by words

“Life is trying things to see if they work”.

The shop is devoted to quotes, much like that one. Actually, it’s devoted to words. Even the name of the shop – ‘Hamazi’ – is a play on words, reversing the Cypriot ‘mahazi’ which means (yes) ‘shop’.

The shop is in old Nicosia, just off Ledra Street. It’s small, offering gifts and collectibles and second-hand books and comics, only open a few hours a day, 11.30 to 2pm (a bit more on Saturday), closed Wednesday and Sunday. The gimmick, if you like, is that almost everything comes bedecked with words – whether text on paper or quotes (like the one above) on assorted gift objects: mugs, cutting boards, signs to put on your wall, and so on.

The shop is a one-woman show – the woman in question being Marianna Kofterou, not just a perky pragmatist but the perky pragmatist. That’s the name of her band, Another Perky Pragmatist; they have an EP coming out, Tackling the Western Male, which includes a song by Marianna herself called ‘Cowboy’ (you can find it on YouTube). “There’s a reason,” she croons in that song, “why cowboys relocate every season”. Another quote.

She herself has been a bit like that cowboy, always relocating slightly. She spent most of her 30s doing three things at once, teaching English, working as a trained psychologist and singing in bands – but what she really wanted was to start her own ranch, in cowboy-speak.

Then one day – actually a couple of years ago; Hamazi opened in December 2020 – “I became 39, 40, and the time came for me to bite the bullet and be brave, and start the businesses. Because I’ve always wanted to, but I was scared because I didn’t have any capital – ever. I still don’t. But y’know, my existential anxiety would not allow for it anymore”. Life is trying things to see if they work.

“I’ve been dreaming about this space since I was a kid”.

Hamazi is one of Marianna’s new ventures from the past couple of years. The other is Pingu’s English Centre in Tseri – her own school, after years of working for others – and another related development is that she’s started writing songs, after years of doing covers. All three are milestones – but the shop is perhaps the most personal.

“I’ve been dreaming about this space since I was a kid,” she says – and she means it literally, not ‘dreaming’ in the sense of wishing but literally dreaming. The shop is one half of her dad’s old workshop, where he’d make jewellery and work on his photography. Little Marianna used to come here often as a pre-schooler, drawing on the walls, getting to know the neighbours – and the space seeped into her subconscious, visiting her dreams even before she started spending four mornings a week there as a grown-up.

She worried that she might find it boring, going to the same place every day (it’s not quite her style), but the time flies by. Documentaries play on a TV above the counter – there’s a couch strategically placed just opposite, so customers can watch the movie while resting or waiting for a friend – and she gets all kinds of people, lots of tourists, university students (she has cheap second-hand textbooks), “people I know, people I don’t”.

The conversation with first-time customers always goes the same way. “First of all I get this very genuine reaction from them, like ‘Awww, how cute, how long have you been here?’. I always get this.

“And then they want to know about me. Because apparently the shop is an extension of me.”

“You’re socially hopeless unless you can play.”

Hamazi is many things. A place for Christmassy gifts (there’s a festive event taking place on Saturday, December 16), a place for handmade knick-knacks from hair clips and T-shirts to actual butterfly wings preserved in resin. It’s also one of the very few businesses to have opened recently in old Nicosia which is neither a café/bar nor aimed specifically at the area’s migrant population. The neighbourhood’s changed quite a bit since her childhood days.

Above all, though, the shop is an extension of Marianna herself – a performance, in its way, like the music she plays. It’s a reflection of her restless personality which is indeed quite playful and, well, perky. She laughs a lot, and says ‘dude’ a lot. “They’re my dad’s dudes,” is how she describes the elderly craftsmen who still work nearby.

Some of the books on offer – like the old copies of Nancy Drew and Sweet Valley High – are her own books, from her younger days. Many of the comics come from her dad’s collection. The shop is her baby, she built it up from scratch (there was no money). “It’s a lesson in life, actually… There were many moments when I could’ve become very helpless and desperate, and just given up” – not just with Hamazi, but all three of her ventures.

“Things were breaking, things were not working. People in the band were leaving, or wanting to leave. I couldn’t get the loan for the school… At one point [in the shop] I dropped a bunch of stuff, and they broke!” she recalls, laughing madly – but she literally picked up the pieces and carried on. She’s also had to play well with others, whether the craftspeople she collaborates with (some of them her dad’s old dudes, whom she’s known since childhood) or indeed the customers who come through the door, adding words to her personal melody.

Hamazi is a lovely little shop, but it’s unlikely that it can ever mean as much to anyone else as it does to Marianna. It’s her childhood revived, her dream come to fruition, an expression of her own perky-pragmatist uniqueness. Then again, on that note, it may be wise to recall another quote, by anthropologist Margaret Mead:

“Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.”

Talk about a backhanded compliment!

Hamazi, Arsinoes 82 (opposite H&M), Nicosia