Games forgotten. In a corner of memory, in a crevice of the soul. A source of joy from another time, which time tricked and hid in the depths of an attic. These games, of childhood quests and beautiful memories, nostalgia and history, a family never forgot. And not only did he not forget them, but with the help of technology he found a way to utilize them, giving them a new life.
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The large collection of games of the teacher Maros Polydoros and the other members of her family, has its roots in the refugee. In a way, this huge love was born as a reaction to the refugee, in 1974. And Famagusta will always be the reference point, which they never forget, just as they will never let their games be forgotten. Her young son took action, taking over as the family's third generation of collectors, who created “The Forgotten Toys Project”.
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“We were a middle-class family from Famagusta. We had our little games, our little house. My father, Xenophon Sergiou, was a man of culture, just like my mother. They bought us our toys, we took care of them, we had them in display cases. It was a big disappointment for my father when we found ourselves in the camp in Xylofagos, where he worked, with some used toys sent to us by the non-refugees. My brother, who was six years younger than me, kept these games and played. He carried them left and right. After about a year we went to Limassol and my brother took these games with him. My father felt very uncomfortable that he didn't have the opportunity to buy us a game”, recalls Ms. Polydorou.
< /p> Xenophon Sergiou.
Wanting to give his children some of the joy they were deprived of, Mr Sergiou started visiting toy shops and resellers in Limassol. They sat and drank coffee and shared with him their concern that in these difficult times, after the invasion, they were not selling any games, as the world's priorities were different. This was especially true of good quality games from Japan, China and Hong Kong. Therefore, they had started bringing cheap, plastic games, which they put in their windows, and these good games were left inside the warehouses.
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“Word by word, my father managed to get into these warehouses and slowly bought one or two games every month and brought them to us. It became a beautiful habit and we gradually acquired a beautiful collection of good quality games that had now disappeared from the market.” With one game a month, in the first, difficult years of the refugee, the great hunt for the old game began.
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“Years passed, we found our feet financially, we went to study, we came back and my brother and I, having as yeast those games of the first years after the invasion, we thought that these people who had the warehouses, would surely still have games. As soon as we got some money in our hands, with the help of my dad we started to find these people, who very happily told us 'come in, choose what you want and we will give it to you at the price we bought it for'. We started hunting the old game with a lot of love, with a lot of enthusiasm, with a lot of longing. Wherever we found doubles, we shared them and slowly bought the warehouses themselves. One thousand pounds, two thousand pounds, three thousand pounds. And we left Limassol, we went to other cities, even to small village department stores, which had everything on their lofts. Our collection was gathered in three different houses. My brother, I must admit, has more than I do.”
< /p> Maro Polydorou.
As Mrs. Polydorou describes, over time, the old games became one with their family. “Our house never had silverware, crystals, etc. It was decorated with toys. I was probably one of the first people in Cyprus to trust Ebay for this purpose. In 2000 I started buying rare Japanese games from there. The magic of the game begins with World War II. Previously, the country that mainly made tin toys was Germany. The tin was melted down and painted by hand by the artists. The factories were full of artists, drawing inspiration from figures from around the world. When the war started, Germany could no longer produce and mostly the US was left, but there was not enough production to cover the whole world. Despite their rivalry with Japan, they were allowed to produce games for shipment to America. The Japanese seized the opportunity and made the largest production of games at the time. We even have games that say made in occupied Japan. And anything that says made in Japan, we consider it a little gem”.
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Although Maro Polydorou never stopped buying old games (and now also some newer ones, which she says will one day become old), at some point she got tired and wanted to pass this craving on to the next generation. She asked her three children if they were interested in collecting toys, and her youngest son, Xenios, who is a gymnast, responded positively.
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Speaking about the way old games fascinate him, Xenios Polydorou said that “each game tells us what is happening historically at that time. For example, during the America-Russia space race there was a space related games craze and everyone was collecting such games. During the war it was little soldiers and tanks. Then the engineering games began, where the children built motorcycles and cars. Each historical period was captured. And this is very important for collectors, because you can find a historical period that you like and create a timeline”. He also mentions that the battery played an important role in the development of the game. That is, games that existed in one decade as wind-up games, in the next decade were released with batteries, having more movement, sound and new features. This evolution is even seen in the boxes, which are becoming more and more complex, using more languages over time.
< /p> Xenios Polydorou.
Mr. Polydorou uses books to look up the history of games, as the information available on the internet is limited and mainly concerns games from later decades. Part of what prompted him to create The Forgotten Toys Project was the ability to record information himself. The page is offered in the English language, as it is aimed at the global audience of collectors and those who love old games. “I have my grandfather's name, I look like him, I have his passion. I inherited his games, on the condition that I make sure they make people as happy as they made him,” he writes. It provides information regarding the authenticity, the collectible value and the history of the old games, which it constantly enriches.
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The page also has an online store, where some games from the large family collection are sold, with the prospect in the future of opening it up to third parties from all over the world, who will be able to use it as a specialized platform for selling period games. Each game for sale is accompanied by all available information, such as the decade and country of manufacture, the factory etc. but also much more detailed, if Xenios Polydorou can find them through his research.
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“Our games are in warehouses, under the stairs, in boxes. We have them as trinkets. I knew that in the apartments we live in today, we would never be able to store them all. That's why I started selling some, finding out how big a market there is abroad. But I wanted to combine the sale with the love we have as collectors, because we think it's important to provide education for them. It's not financial that was my motivation. It was nostalgia, love, respect. An old game can be a museum piece, it can be a conversation starter. But it can also be an investment. It's a rare thing that you know won't happen again. I decided to create the platform to combine all these dimensions and bring under one umbrella the collectors and those who want to become collectors”.
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At the same time, his mother uses the educational space she has in Nicosia (Polychoros Amelei) to periodically exhibit part of her collection. The exhibits are not for sale, but to be brought back to life and enjoyed by other people. To be a reason for social gathering. “When someone comes not with the condition to buy but to see, it has another warmth. We want to show, drink coffee and inform. The ones we sell are in the e-shop,” he explained.
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The family's adoration for old games has its roots where they have their roots: Famagusta. We asked Maro Polydorou if there is a game she has been repressing, that she has been looking for all these years and has never been able to find. “A few months before the invasion, my uncle brought us a large Japanese robot, which was state of the art. He was walking and making sounds. I wasn't happy about it. I don't even know the brand. I've been frantically looking for it on the internet and can't find it anywhere. The little girl from Famagusta is looking for it and maybe I'll never find it…”.
against the Cypriot tradition
