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  • George S.
    Senior Member
    • Aug 2009
    • 10116

    On the Road of Time – Chapter 6



    By Petre Nakovski

    Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

    [email protected]

    August 5, 2012



    On our way to the village Ieropigi (Macedonian Kosinets, Ieropigi in Greek means “Sacred Spring”. This name was given to the village because water flows from under the church foundation) just outside of Mesopotamia (Macedonian Chetirok. Mesopotamia in Greek means “between rivers.”) we met an old man sitting at the side of the road. Should I stop, I wondered. Earlier we were warned that there might be thugs out there who might force you, at gunpoint, to drive them south to one of the major Greek cities. But looking at the sad expression in the old stranger’s eyes made me stop. The old man greeted us in Greek and wondered if we were going to Ieropigi and if we could give him a ride.



    “Get in,” I said and, driving slowly, we struck up a conversation. To begin I asked him, “Where are you from, who are you and what are you doing?…” He said he lived in Ieropigi. I then asked him if the village was always called “Ieropigi”.



    “No,” he said. “Earlier the village was called Kosinets and “endopii” (indigenous people) used to live there, but they are gone. There is only one family of endopii left and they are old people…”



    “Where did the endopii go?” I asked.



    “I don’t know. They are dispersed all over the world,” he said.



    “And do you like the place, the village?” I asked.



    The old man shook his hand and with a confirming voice said: “No. I don’t like it. Who wants something that does not belong to them? We have no roots here. The young leave for the cities or for Europe and every day there are less and less of us. We die on foreign soil. We like the places where they uprooted us from, from where we emigrated. Every day we slowly wilt without the meadows, the mountains, the peaks and the waters of Pindus… we die without them. Without them, without the peaks of Pindus we feel short. We were eagles there and here we are not even jackdaws (small kind of crow). They took Pindus from us and stripped us naked. Eagles need heights and peaks and we, the Sarakachani (Vlachs), need the endless pastures and the cold waters of Pindus. We are unhappy, very unhappy because we can’t do without our mountains on Pindus. There are mountains here as well, but they are not like our mountains… Now we only go there to visit the graves of our ancestors…”



    “And where are the graves of the endopii?” I asked.



    “They were moved to another place. Now there is a garden there in their place…” answered the old man.



    “There once used to be houses there, right? What happened to the stones from the houses?” I asked.



    “They were used to build the new houses… The village is more or less new, built below the old one…” he answered.



    There was a café at the entrance of the village. It was time for coffee. There were many white-haired old men sitting at the tables, leaning their arms on a shepherd’s staff, waiting for their cup of coffee to arrive. We greeted them and they greeted us back.



    “Down there, the building with the sheet metal roof, what is that?” I asked.



    “We keep several hundred sheep and goats there during the winter,” answered the old man.



    “You have so many,” I praised the old man.



    With a difficult sigh and a disappointing tone of voice, the old man said:



    “When they relocated us here I brought with me fifteen thousand sheep, ten thousand goats and three thousand horses. These mountains are too small and narrow for that many animals. At the end of the nineteen-fifties we were almost left without sheep and goats. There was not enough land for them to graze on and we had no money to purchase more. That’s when the government forced us to farm the land and plant wheat, barley, rye and potatoes. We had no idea how to work the land but were forced to learn quickly. We used tractors and other farming equipment which helped a lot…”



    The old man stopped talking and after a moment of silence, asked:



    “Where in Greece have you seen a Vlach, a Sarakachan reduced to plowing? The Vlachs, meaning us who came here, more correctly, us who they brought here from Epirus, only know how to look after sheep and goats and make all kinds of cheese. In Epirus we despised the farmers and villagers. In Epirus we were the aristocracy, the first people in Larissa and Athens. The Vlachs were the cream of Greece. In old times the Vlachs fed all of Europe with their various cheeses. Our caravans went to Belgrade, Budapest, Bucharest and even as far as Vienna. We brought back riches and built Greece with them. The Vlachs built schools, churches, the first public buildings, the first palaces and theaters in Greece. You want a Greek doctor, judge, lawyer, professor, historian, rebel, advocate, diplomat, look to the Vlachs. Don’t look for them among the Greeks. The Vlachs were and still are the cream of Greece. There at Pindus, in the Vlach villages, our houses were palaces. Everyone had a house built in the village with chiselled stone and everyone in Ioannina, Metsovo, Samarina and other places had palaces. And I mean palaces. Do we like this place? No! They made villagers and plowmen out of us, the proud Sarakachani from Epirus. We have become a mockery of people… they disgraced us… Come… Please, come to our house for coffee…”



    The old Vlach, Sarakachan woman greeted us with open arms and with a wide smile behind which flashed several gold teeth. She sat us down on a wide sofa covered with a wide red, woolen blanket. And while placing a sweet made of figs on the table in front of us, I saw a cross carved on her forehead covering her wide wrinkles. The old man noticed me looking with surprise and hastened to explain.



    “It is an old tradition that our women have a cross between their eyebrows, which originated back in the time of the Ioannina Pasha (Ottoman general). A cross was carved between the eyebrows on the forehead of our women to remind the Turks (Moslems) and Turk converts to keep their hands off them. We marked them with a Christian cross and as such no Turk or Turk convert dared take them…”



    While we drank our coffee the old Vlach told us that here, in the desolate Kostur Region villages of Dmbeni, Kosinets, Lobanitsa and Smrdesh, as in Prespa, a Greek politician and statesman, the richest Vlach among the Vlachs in Greece, promised them a paradise. He did not mention his name. But a paradise he did not find. He became poor in doing this. So I gathered his real motive was to change the character of the desolate region.



    We thanked our hosts for their hospitality and got up to go.



    “Where are you going?” asked the old Vlach.



    “To Lobanitsa,” I answered.



    “Ah, it’s called that by its old name,” confirmed the old man.



    “What is its new name?” I asked.



    “It’s called Agios Dimitrios now, but the village no longer exists… There is nothing there, except for a small church built by the people of Lobanitsa who now live in Australia,” answered the old man.



    * * *



    We headed to the western part of the village along the old upper road, now widened and paved with asphalt (there is also a lower and wider road, built after the Vlachs were brought here). At the exit, at the end of the asphalt there was an old road, a pre-war road. This road was built by the villagers from the surrounding villages in the thirties by unpaid labour. This is the place where an older road used to exist and was travelled by the Romans. This is the link between Kostur – Bilishta and Korcha and from there to Durres. The hill and the flat area on top of the road and below the road are fenced with rusty barbed wire, on which a rusty sign hangs with the writing “Mine Field!”



    No one to this day has made the effort to remove the mines. The mines have been hibernating here since they were put in by the Democratic Army of Greece demolition crews in August 1949. There was an intersection twenty or so metres from here. There was also a church in the middle and to the right there was a wide winding road leading to Kristalopigi (Smrdesh in Macedonian). It said so on the traffic sign. (Kristalopigi, meaning “crystal spring” the new Greek name given to the village because of the natural spring of water running near the village church, Sveti Giorgi.) To the left, in front of us, a little down the hill was a cobblestone road.



    “This is the road,” I said to my wife, “the road that leads to Lobanitsa.”



    The cobblestone road was covered in moss and overgrown with thorn bushes on both sides. Growing on the sides were scruffy, short elms. It looked like the road was not used at all. We came out of the car and turned our attention to the south. In front of us lay the Kosinsko valley, further over were the Boulders (Faltsa) and beyond that was Mount Odre. Left of Odre was Mount Orle and to the right, on the west side, lined up were the mountains Krusha, Gorusha, Bel Kamen, Petre, Peleni, Sveti Ilia, Amuda, Nikoler and Aliabitsa and behind them was Gramos. Behind us, on a gentle rise, were the hills of Kosinets and Lobanitsa, overgrown with thinned out dwarf oak trees languishing in silence and quiet. Continuing beyond them, up high, all covered in broken stones and becoming steeper as they went further, were more hills that tied to the hills of Mali-Madi.



    The warm air moved in gentle waves as the ghostly silence caused a restlessness in us. From what I have been told, I know that it was from here that the government army wanted to enter behind the DAG (Democratic Army of Greece) Partisan lines and thus open the door for the tanks to enter Smrdesh and close the escape route to Albania. It was here on these hills, from August 10th to 11th, 1949, that the DAG Brigade 105 strongly opposed the government army. It was here at the bases of these hills that Division IX of the government army became disabled, saving the lives of many Partisans. About those days, General Zafiropoulos wrote the following on page 619 of his book “Anti-Bandit War 1945-1949”.



    “Ουτω ο ελιγμος της IX Μεραρχιας απετυχεν ολοσχερος μετα μεγαλων απωλειων, 354 εκτος μαχης μονον της 41-της Ταξιαρχιας....” (And as such the manoeuvre of Division IX completely failed, leaving 354 dead on the battlefield from the 41st Brigade alone…”


    I drove very slowly over the aging cobblestone road and when I came out of the shade of the tall and wide-branched oak tree, a wide space lay in front of me all covered in broken rock. I recognized the place from the surrounding bare hills and from the large rock. The village Lobanitsa was located here. I remember the place from the three tall poplar trees that grew near the river on whose bank the church, Sveti Dimitria, was built. And near it was the boulder from whose veins flowed a spring of water. The poplar trees and the church are now gone and water no longer flows from the spring under the big rock. I remember the two-story houses built from chiselled stone, covered with Turkish ceramic tiles and window frames painted with blue paint. These houses were built after the Ilinden Uprising (1903) but now are gone and so are the stones and Turkish tiles. All gone!



    I remember the tall white house, built high up, at the edge of the village from whose balcony one could see the entire surroundings. That was my aunt Zoia’s house and she and her daughter-in-law and two year old grandson were imprisoned for two and a half years in the village Drenovo in Prespa Region. She was accused of being an “enemy of the people” because her son crossed over to the other side of the border. We moved to that house in the fall of 1947 because they burned our house. The tall white house is now gone.



    I remember the school very well. In the late fall of 1947, after sundown, the school would open its doors and during the night under the dim light of kerosene lamps, for the first time, we would open our Macedonian primers and the teacher, Konstandina Todorova all nicely dressed in her military uniform, would teach us the Cyrillic alphabet. The school is gone now and so is the teacher with the nice Partisan hat and long braided hair, she too is gone; she died in Skopje after moving there from Poland.



    I remember many of the faces of the people of Lobanitsa. They too are gone. I remember Partisans arriving in the village very early in the morning, exhausted from a long night’s march. They would rest here during the day and would be gone after sunset. I remember the nights when long columns of loaded horses and mules, guided by women wearing white robes, passed through Lobanitsa. The women were from Prespa and would whisper that they were carrying ammunition.



    I remember seeing a yellow airplane fly in circles over Lobanitsa and the surrounding countryside and because of that the days were dead and the nights came to life. I remember late in the night women from AFZH (Women’s Anti-Fascist Front) came to the houses and had long talks with the mothers. The fathers then were mobilized and digging trenches and cutting oak, beech and pine trees to build bunkers. And what did the women from the AFZH, in their long conversations, have to say to my mother to persuade her?



    I remember that day well. It was March 24th in the afternoon when the gathering began and lasted until sunset. Crowds of children were gathering in long queues, exhausted from their long journey. There were small, big and bigger children. The mothers carried the little children in their arms and on their shoulders and the bigger children hung on to them by their dress. They were all exhausted making the trip on foot to Lobanitsa from Breshteni, Galishta, Ezerets and Novoseleni. They spent the night sleeping in the school, church and houses in Lobanitsa. The next day they spent their daylight hours hiding in the forest just outside of the village. The day after, more children were arriving the entire day from the villages Dolno Papratsko, Krchishta and Kosinets.



    This was the first time I had ever seen so many children and mothers. I remember that afternoon our yard smelling of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread. I also remember my mother taking out our clothes from the chest and dressing us the same way as she dressed us when we went to church… I remember it was a warm spring day, the almond trees were flowering and the nightingales were singing.



    As I continued to drive towards the broken stones I felt chills run down my spine. The closer I came to the piles of rocks and soil where the houses used to be, the more chills I felt coming over me. At the end of the rubble, to the right where the road bends slightly, I stopped the car. This is where we stopped on March 25th, 1948 to say goodbye…



    …In front of us, far away, the sun was setting on top of Mount Morava. The early evening light was dimming before our teary eyes. In the early evening the children cried loudly with tears welling up in their eyes. The sun set behind Mount Morova and the darkness was filled with weeping. And behind us, up there on the steepness of the hill, stood our mothers watering the soil beneath them with tears, shaking the rocks around them with their sickly loud cries and sobs and waving their black handkerchiefs at us, saying goodbye…



    We walked in the dark not knowing where it would lead us. We walked, stumbled, fell, got up again and dragged our steps in a long column... Somewhere in the middle of the column several people started to sing, but no one joined in, no one sang the song that would give us courage and joyfulness. The voices of those singing slowly died out. They dried up. They got lost in the sea of crying and sobbing... Before stepping over onto foreign soil, the column stopped for a short time. Someone, one of the people escorting us, took my bag with the roasted chicken and still warm bread...



    Years afterwards, when I was an adult, long after we were separated and under a different climate, I heard from my mother. She told me the following:



    “They told us that after the bad had passed our children would be returned to us, which should not have taken more than twenty days. This is what they told us and that’s how they convinced us to voluntarily take you by the hand and escort you to the border. There, at the corner when they told us that we could only go this far with you, we waited on the hillside. This is where they held us. This is where we begged them and prayed for your return to us as soon as possible… Was there a single woman that did not cry? We cried my dear, we pulled our hairs out crying, we screamed and wailed mournfully like we would when someone died. After you were gone when we returned home, that’s when we realized our mistake and the wrong we had done.



    Things went from bad to worse. The house was empty and desolate, the yard was empty, the village was empty and every lane was desolate. We waited and listened, hoping the door would open, someone would call out, someone would cry, would laugh. Nothing! Emptiness! Not a single child’s voice, no matter how much we wished to hear one. Not a voice, not a cry, not a laugh was heard…



    There were no children, no voices, no laughing, no happiness and no joy. Life becomes difficult when someone takes away your happiness. They took our happiness and gave us a wound, a sore, a cut, an open gash… a wound in the heart, a wound in our soul, a wound that does not heal, a wound that hurts with every mention of birth, a wound that opens, that bleeds, that burns. No one’s heart could help reduce the hurt because the pain was buried deep in the heart and soul…



    Right here,” she tapped her chest, “like a mistletoe, it is stuck, pressing and scratching and whispering, I listen but there is no voice, no noise, only silence, there is nothing, it is desolate… and that desolation hurts, it never stops. After a while we began to blame ourselves, to curse ourselves, how could we do this? Why did we do this, send our children away and turn our lives upside down? Why did we put our children in strange hands? Why did we put the fate of our children in someone else’s hands?



    Our separation became a permanent wound. An open wound that constantly bled and burnt. The wounds from a bullet, a knife, a dagger, would heal, but the wounds from this kind of pain, anguish and sorrow would not heal. Every day, with each passing day, the wounds became wider. There were as many wounds as there were missing children. Open wounds. They were constantly open. Our chests were torn apart from the heavy sighs. You go out to the yard, it’s desolate; you go out on the balcony, the street is desolate; you look out of the window, the neighbourhood is desolate; it is desolate at the spring, in the streets, everywhere it is desolate, empty, devoid of children. Emptiness and desolation existed everywhere.



    Every mother missing her child was wounded. It seemed like even the birds flew away and abandoned us. Their voice and song too we could not hear. And what were my thoughts? What else could a mother think, if not first of her children? About what else can a mother think, whose children they took away, an act with which they muddied and poisoned her happiness?



    Silence and great sadness befell the village; silence in the home, in the yard. Restlessness circled, scratched and dug, but only in the mind, it did not allow the heart to calm, to settle and find peace. There was no day with hope or night with sleep without pain… The days were hard and the nights were even harder. Was it fate? A great weight, a great weight was placed upon us. Do you remember? First they collected the older children. They collected them during the night and took them somewhere in the forest, in the mountains… They told them and us that they would be fighting for freedom, for Macedonia. Then after, they collected you the younger children. They told us that you would remain over there, in the countries (Eastern European countries) for only several days, until they kicked out the enemy… We believed them and we gave you to them… Then we were left all alone…



    After that, one by one, they took our sheep, goats, chickens, horses, oxen and told us that they were for the struggle and gave us a piece of paper with writing on it that said the “People’s Government” would return them to you. Then they collected our bed covers, woolen blankets, pillows, winter coats, gloves, socks, sweaters, hats, wool, pots, plates, spoons, forks. They told us they were for the hospitals, for the wounded. No one asked if we had anything left for ourselves…



    Something was left for us, my dear child, something was left. Our naked life, pain, suffering, torment, wounded soul, and the beleaguered hope of waiting was left for us… Left for us were these arms and shoulders ... with which we became part of the flood, the rising storm which became more frightening with each passing day...



    About those who were engaged in the war we were always burdened with the worst thoughts, with the greatest of fear and for those young ones, who were collected, our thoughts were that at least there were no wars, no shooting, no killing where they took them and that they would be alive and well. We had the same wish and prayer for both the young and old; to be alive and well, even if they were far away, our prayers for them were always to be alive and well. Nothing we did we could hold with our own hands. Everything we held fell out of our hands. No sooner were our crops and gardens ready to be harvested than they were there to collect them just as they had collected our older and younger children. They said there would be great battles and for them to win, to achieve victory, we too needed to give, to go, if not to battle then to harvest, to deliver and to transport.



    We dug at night and delivered and transported at night. The day was reserved for the airplanes and cannons. They beat on us during the day. So we turned things upside down and made the day into night and the night into day. The pain in our backs, shoulders, arms and legs, from carrying logs and ammunition persisted, ever increasing with each passing day. But there was no time to think of our personal pain, when the war effort was at stake, so they kept telling us...



    The entire crop from the fields, meadows and gardens, the sheep, goats and oxen were left for the old people to look after. It was all left to those who could hardly stand or walk, to those who could hardly lift or carry a bushel, swing a scythe or a sickle, to those who could hardly carry a deceased in a coffin or a wounded on a stretcher… And you tell yourself, please God protect us and cross yourself with your thoughts, with your thoughts because your hands were full carrying a stretcher, a log, a coffin, a shovel, an axe, a pickaxe, a stone. You made a cross with your thoughts, because you couldn’t make it with your hands. And when you were carrying a wounded person, you said to yourself, “Is there another mother like me carrying my children like this?” That’s when you began to be afraid, to experience numbing fear, to feel your legs collapsing under you. Fear had you in its grip and you couldn’t think of anything else. You dedicated your entire thoughts to the drowning fear which had you burdened and locked in its grip. And that’s how we faced each cruel day being beaten again and again with horror that had no end…



    There were only two or three children left in the village. Very young children that did not leave, that were not separated, that were not torn from their mother’s embrace. When these children cried we all wept with them, we all rejoiced. When they laughed, we all laughed and cried. Their laughter, their ga-ga-ing and crying was a light in darkness. It was like the sun shining after the passing of a dark storm… Unfortunately the happiness was short lived and after a bit of sunshine, the dark clouds would return. There was light and then darkness, a short burst of sunlight followed by a long episode of darkness and the tears never dried up. We had tears for both the dead and the living…



    It was a bad time, a very bad time. There were many children at home and then, suddenly there were no children, the home was empty. The silence was deafening, sickening. What did we do? We mostly cursed. We cursed those who brought us no good, those who came to our homes and took our happiness, our light and left us in darkness. We prayed at home, we lit pine sticks in front of the icon of the Virgin Mary and prayed some more. We felt a bit better but not for long. We went to church and prayed there too. During the night and when we were carrying wounded, if we passed by a church we stopped and prayed, we prayed for our children, we prayed for all those who were in stretchers. We prayed for them to be safe and remain alive… Our days and nights became moments of prayer. I don’t think God ever heard so many prayers. And the miracle is that in God we believed the most…


    In the night we knelt in front of a lit pine stick, we had no candles, and while looking at the icon of the Virgin Mary, we prayed for everyone. For those who were at war and for those who were in the countries. And after that we waited… we did not leave the pine stick to completely burn. We needed it for its light the next day and if any were still left we needed it for the next night; that is if we were not at work carrying logs and stones for the bunkers, or carrying wounded from the battlefield to the hospitals. We would all gather together in one room, that is all of us who were still left in the village, take our black handkerchiefs off, light the pine stick and, in its light, look at the pictures of our children. We whispered to them but all they did was look back at us and we, with our whispers, spoke to them and lightly touched and caressed their faces and kissed their eyes with our slightly moist lips. And they, they just looked at us in silence. And quietly, pleadingly, we asked them to please say something, smile… We talked to them but they kept quiet, silent and only looked at us and looked at us. So then, for the longest part, we looked at each other in silence…”



    x x x



    My wife and I remained on the hillside for a long time. We were quiet for most of the time. Then we closed our eyes and for a moment, behind our eyelids, we witnessed the large crowds of women and old people, all around us, standing on this very hillside and weeping in silence and waving goodbye... and in our ears they whispered their wishes and prayers and in the silence we heard their muffled cries and whimpers… And all over again we were reminded of the day when they gathered here and when they brought us with them. We remembered it was a time when the almonds were flowering and the Nightingales sang. It was March. A warm and fragrant spring day…



    They collected us and took us away and behind us remained the unfinished story in a grandfather and grandmother’s voice… And we thought and asked ourselves: “Will there be anyone, where they were sending us, who would caress us with a warm hand like the hand of our mothers, who would kiss us goodnight before sleep, like our mothers kiss us, who would gently look at us like our mothers looked at us, who would smile at us with our mother’s smile, who would tell us a story, sing us a song, wipe our tears? Would there be anything there from our home? Where are they taking us? When will we return to our homes?”



    They took us away and left my mother and all the mothers of all the other children with an empty lap and with an empty embrace. They left our mothers with their eyes fixed, looking, always looking, down the road on which they took us. And forever and without stopping they allowed the mothers to think that we would be returning on the same road...


    Despite the many things we desired, our greatest desire was not to forget the road that took us away from home… We needed to remember it like we remembered our mother’s eyes, our mother’s voice, words, smile… This is what we wanted the most!



    In the desolate burning hot ruins, washed by the rain, naked and hidden stood that same hillside sinking in deep silence… We too stood there frozen - petrified and with our entire being we felt the pain of separation that never stopped and for which no one has found a cure. There are wounds which will never heal and cannot be cured. They hurt and they will always hurt…


    We descended the hillside in silence and got back on the highway and passed by the road that once was the road of separation. But our journey on the road of time and in search of our memories does not end here.



    We left.



    We took the road away from here but before leaving we took one last look to better remember the place of our separation. We came to the intersection and took the wide asphalt road.
    "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
    GOTSE DELCEV

    Comment

    • The LION will ROAR
      Senior Member
      • Jan 2009
      • 3231

      The old Vlach, Sarakachan woman greeted us with open arms and with a wide smile behind which flashed several gold teeth. She sat us down on a wide sofa covered with a wide red, woolen blanket. And while placing a sweet made of figs on the table in front of us, I saw a cross carved on her forehead covering her wide wrinkles. The old man noticed me looking with surprise and hastened to explain.



      “It is an old tradition that our women have a cross between their eyebrows, which originated back in the time of the Ioannina Pasha (Ottoman general). A cross was carved between the eyebrows on the forehead of our women to remind the Turks (Moslems) and Turk converts to keep their hands off them. We marked them with a Christian cross and as such no Turk or Turk convert dared take them…”

      Here is a Photo of such Tattoo's of the Cross on women foreheads to keep the Turks away..
      From my sources this photo was taken in April 26, 1903. Display of women and young girls with tattooed cross on their forehead as a sign of defense to prevent their forcible grabbing and marriage with the local beys .....
      Taken in the Bitola Vilayet ....
      The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

      Comment

      • George S.
        Senior Member
        • Aug 2009
        • 10116

        On the Road of Time – Chapter 7



        By Petre Nakovski

        Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

        [email protected]

        August 12, 2012



        The winding forest road took us to the top of Lisets Hill whose summit soars at an elevation of 1827 metres above sea level. The top of the hill, where the antennas are located, is bare and treeless with a wide view of the surrounding mountains. One can see Bigla, Lundzer, Vicho, Siniachka and Mali-Madi from here. And beyond there, one can see Orle, Odre, Gorusha, Bel Kamen, Nikoler, Aliabitsa and further, further away in the gray fog one can see the summit of Gramos. At the foot of the mountain is an area called Koreshta which includs the Kostur Region valley, the city Kostur and Lake Kostur. To the west lie Vrba, Ivan Mountain, Galichitsa and the two Prespa lakes. The picturesque view was captivating and charming. But we did not come here to admire the picturesque landscape and the rare and beautiful Macedonian mountains. We came here to look for traces of the struggle, of the last effort symbolized by the slogan “The enemy will not pass Vicho”.



        Thousands of villagers from nearby and distant Macedonian villages, along with seven or eight thousand Partisans from DAG (Democratic Army of Greece) spent seven months here digging trenches and building bunkers. All the hills and mountains in the Vicho vicinity were a chain of defence. On the eve of the major offensive, on the eighth and ninth of August, the opponent brought a large force to the Koreshtanska basin and all through the night the Partisans, through the bunker gun holes, watched the lights of the pitched tents.


        The Partisan brigade commanders, deployed in the surrounding hills and mountains, kept a watchful eye on the build up of this large government force and did nothing to stop it. They received no orders to start bombarding it with their 45 cannon and mortar tubes. Not a single shell or grenade exploded in the Koreshtanska Basin that night. What would have been the result if all the Partisan forces in the surrounding hills had concentrated their fire on the government forces in the Koreshtanska Basin? What would have been the result if the entire Partisan artillery, positioned all around the hills, were to thunder before the great and decisive battle? Unfortunately the Partisan guns never thundered... Insiders say that never happened because there was treason...


        ...During the night of August 10th and 11th the government brigade attacked Lisets. The hill exchanged hands several times before it was eventually taken by the government troops. The enemy passed Vicho and the road was wide open for Prespa and for escape to Albania.


        While standing on top of Lisets Hill, I took my notebook out of my backpack and began to read the notes I had made at the Institute of National History of Macedonia, before leaving on this trip. Safeguarded at the Institute were dozens of monographs, written in the last forty years or so, about the villages of this part of Macedonia. Some monographs were simple point-form notes, made in a hurry to preserve the information. Others were properly written with elaborate data attached to them. Irrespective of how they were written, the monographs are historic documents that detail many facts about the villages such as names, places, description of events, customs, folk songs, dances, etc. They prove that each village was once a living and thriving entity. The information about these villages that left me with the most painful impression was the numbers. Population numbers, the number of people mobilized, the number of people that died during the wars, the number of people that died in the prisons camps and dried islands, the number of people displaced and evicted from their homes and so on. But the numbers which I wrote in my notebook were the numbers pertaining to the Greek Civil War as follows:



        Village name, number of people mobilized, number of people killed


        Aitos, mobilized132, killed 39
        Besfina, mobilized 96, killed 25
        Bapchor, mobilized 180, killed 62
        Tiolishta, mobilized 55, killed 20
        Mokren mobilized 188, killed 75
        Konomladi, mobilized 367, killed 69
        Dobrolishta, mobilized 53, killed 20
        Ezerets, mobilized 34, killed 12
        Krchishta, mobilized 43, killed 29
        Vmbel, mobilized 105, killed 19
        Grache, mobilized 66, killed 38
        Grazhdeno, mobilized 46, killed 21
        Zagorichani, mobilized 87, killed 62
        German, mobilized 288, killed 92
        Nestram, mobilized 127, killed 60
        Statitsa, mobilized 185, killed 53
        Setina, mobilized 160, killed 65
        Oshchima, mobilized 87, killed 26
        Zelenich, mobilized 95, killed 23
        Dobrolishcha, mobilized 51, killed 20
        Breshcheni mobilized 41, killed 13
        Kosinets, mobilized 66, killed 22
        Sheshtevo, mobilized 87, killed 20
        Staricheni, mobilized 30, killed 12
        Zhuzheltse, mobilized 33, killed 11
        Chereshnitsa, mobilized 54, killed 13
        Novoseleni, mobilized 32, killed 15
        Krushoradi, mobilized 62, killed 36
        Drenoveni, mobilized 42, killed 9
        Rulia, mobilized 125, killed 36



        Under what law were these people mobilized when a government did not exist? During the course of the war one of the orders was to “go in with ten and come out with twenty”. In other words, ten fighters would go into a village and they would return to the mountains with ten more. This is how they mobilized the young men and women from the villages and forced them out to the mountains… Many of these young men and women, forced out of their homes, lost their lives in battle. A great number of them were killed in 1948 and 1949 at Gramos, Vicho, Negush, Voden and Lerin. This is how many I recorded in my notebook… But how many more died that are not recorded, that I don’t know about?
        .................................................. ..................

        .................................................. ..................

        .................................................. ..................

        ……………………………………………

        ……………………………………………

        ……………………………………………

        (The dotted lines above are left for the readers to fill.)


        I owe my gratitude to each reader or researcher if they can fill the empty rows above with information about their village and all the villages they know about the number of people mobilized and the number of people lost during the Greek Civil War. Those empty rows were left there deliberately so that our readers can make a personal effort to supplement the list with more information before that valuable information is forgotten and lost forever. This list represents the tragedy that befell the Macedonian people in their struggle for their rights and freedom. And that’s not all. How many more have died and remain forever in the cemeteries of the Eastern European countries, former USSR and former Yugoslavia?



        Numbers… Numbers… Numbers…



        Behind each number there is pain. Behind each number there are tears, suffering and the hopelessness of having to wait. Behind each number there is a widow and orphans. Behind each number there is an unknown, unmarked grave. Behind each number there were many long marches in rain, snow and cold. Behind each number there were unsuccessful battles, hunger, wounds…



        Numbers… Behind each number there is an abandoned house and roots that have been cut. Behind each number there is a dearest, a loved one, a close one, a most thought of, a most waited for,…



        Numbers… and as you close your eyes it seems like they come to life, they smile and promise that today, tomorrow, the day after, next year, they will return…



        Numbers… they are for those who were left at Kopanche, Aliavitsa, Charno, Krastavets, Sveti Ilia, Krusha, Gorisha, Kiafa, Kleftis, Gorna Arena, Dolna Arena, Vicho, Mali-Madi, Baro, Iamata, Roto, Plati, Krsto, Bigla, Lundzer, Bela Voda, Vrba, Grevena, Negush, Voden, Lerin, Prespansko Ezero, the hospitals in Korcha, Durres, Elbasan, Tirana, Sukt, Iasenovo, Katlanovo…


        Numbers… Numbers… Numbers…



        We put a foot on Vicho and Bigla, on Lundzer, Lisets and Mali-Madi and the rest of the hills looked like they were tied by a chain in a circle looking like a giant wreath…



        I felt like yelling so I called out:



        People, people, oh people!... Where are you oh people!!!



        There was no answer. Only heavy silence as deep as the dark abyss; fatal silence from a heavy curse… and pain, pain from an open wound…



        This was the wish of others… “for there to be no people… for there to be no human answer…”
        "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
        GOTSE DELCEV

        Comment

        • George S.
          Senior Member
          • Aug 2009
          • 10116

          ARM delegation bows before UCK monument
          ARM delegation bows before UCK monument


          Monday, August 13, 2012





          A military delegation from the Macedonian Army Headquarters today laid flowers and bowed before a monument commemorating the UCK members lost during the 2001 conflict.



          The delegation was comprised of the Minister of Defense Fatmir Besimi, Minister of Justice Blerim Bexheti, Vice Premier Musa Xhaferi and Deputy of the Interior Ministry Xhelal Bajrami, in Slupchane.


          This was the first such tribute in eleven years after the military conflict and the signing of the Ohrid Framework Agreement.





          Делегација на АРМ се поклони на споменикот на УЧК



          Понеделник, 13 Август 2012







          Делегација на Штабот на АРМ денеска положи цвеќе и се поклони на споменикот на жртвите припадници на УЧК, од конфликтот во 2001-та.



          Делегацијата ја сочинуваа министерот за одбрана Фатмир Бесими, министерот за правда Блерим Беџети, вицепремиерот Муса Џафери и заменик министерот за внатрешни работи Џелал Бајрами, во Слупчане.



          Единаесет години по воениот конфликт и потпишувањето на Охридскиот рамковен договор, ова е прво институционално оддавање почит на припадниците на УЧК.
          "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
          GOTSE DELCEV

          Comment

          • George S.
            Senior Member
            • Aug 2009
            • 10116

            World Macedonian Congress



            Amnesty does NOT mean amnesia for 2001!



            August 15, 2012, Skopje, Macedonia - Right to rule does not mean abuse, but responsibility. That is why the presence of DUI government ministers placing flowers at a UCK monument in Slupchane as part of a government and ARM delegation is not acceptable to the Macedonian World Congress (WMC).



            WMC believes that the war in 2001 was not a war between Macedonians and Albanians, or a war between Orthodox and Muslims, but a simulated war to facilitate implementation of certain global interests for some major power sphere of influence in the region.



            WMC believes that the state should adopt a law to compensate for the civilian casualties and for the property damages incurred during the 2001war! WMC also demands that the government expedite the return of those Macedonians and other citizens who were violently persecuted and expelled from their homes 11 years ago and who are now living in substandard conditions, outside of their own homes.



            WMC, irrespective of census results, respects the rights of the institutionalized cultural autonomy of all minority ethnic communities and their right to acquire rights and freedoms in accordance with the 2001 constitutional amendments.



            At the same time WMC expects the majority party in government to set proper and strict standards regarding the behaviour of its minority coalition partners! It is unacceptable for officials of the Ministry of the Interior and of the Army of Macedonia to be visiting UCK monuments!



            WMC would like to remind the government that the Macedonian Armed Forces fought in 2001 to defend Macedonia’s territorial integrity and the Macedonian population! In contrast, members of UCK fought to create “free territories” for themselves and conducted ethnic cleansing against the Macedonian population. The amnesty and exclusion from punishment offered by the majority, for offenses committed by these people during the war, was a sign of “good will” which does not mean that everything has been forgotten. What these extremist paramilitary groups have done against members of the Macedonian Armed Forces cannot be forgotten. And as such it is unacceptable for official government delegations to lay flowers on their monuments and pay respect to their fallen!



            WMC would also like to call for a review of the composition of the state administration. The way it is structured currently works to the detriment of the Macedonian people because the number of members admitted from the Albanian ethnic community is much higher than its proportion in the total population.





            СВЕТСКИ МАКЕДОНСКИ КОНГРЕС



            АМНЕСТИЈАТА НЕ ЗНАЧИ АМНЕЗИЈА ЗА 2001 ГОДИНА!



            15 август 2012 година, Скопје, Македонија - Правото на власт не значи нејзина злоупотреба, туку одговорност. Затоа, за Светскиот Македонски Конгрес (СМК) е неприфатливо присуството на владини министри од ДУИ на полагањето цвеќе на обележјето на УЧК во Слупчане како владина делегација и на припадници на АРМ, и го прифаќа владиното соопштение и на Генералштабот на АРМ, дека присуството на тројцата министри од ДУИ не претставува службена владина делегација.



            СМК и натаму смета дека војната во 2001 година не беше војна меѓу Македонците и Албанците, ниту меѓу православните и муслиманите, туку симулирана војна за имплементација на определени глобални интереси на некои големи сили за свои сфери на влијание на овие простори.



            СМК смета, дека државата треба да донесе Закон за обесштетување на цивилните жртви и на оштетените имоти за време на војната во 2001 година! Меѓутоа, СМК бара Владата да го спроведе враќањето на насилно прогонетите Македонци и други граѓани, кои и после 11 години од војната живеат во субстандардни услови и надвор од своите родни домови.



            СМК, исто така, независно од пописните резултати, го почитува правото на институционализирана културна автономија на малцинските етнички заедници и правото на стекнатите права и слободи со амандманите на Уставот од 2001 година.



            Но, СМК очекува мнозинската партија во Владата да ги детерминира ваквите однесувања на која и да е владина партија на Албанците во Македонија и соодветно да ги санкционира поради ризик од повторување! На спомен обележја на припадници на УЧК во Македонија, не смеат поздрав да оддаваат службени лица на Министерството за внатрешни работи и на Армијата на Македонија!



            СМК укажува, дека припадниците на Вооружените сили на Македонија во 2001 година се бореа за одбрана на територијалниот интегритет и на суверенитетот на државата Македонија! Наспроти нив, припадниците на УЧК создаваа “слободни територии“ и вршеа етничко чистење врз Македонците во кризните региони. Амнестијата беше добра волја на мнозинството за ослободување на определена група од казната за сторените дела за време на војната, како знак на помирување, но тоа не значи амнезија на делата коишто овие екстремистички паравоени групи врз припадниците на Вооружените сили на Македонија ги сторија. И затоа е неприфатливо, на нивни спомен обележја, службени државни делегации цвеќе да полагаат и почит да оддаваат!



            СМК апелира на преиспитување на рекомпонирањето на државната администрација на штета на Македонците, имајќи предвид дека бројот на припадниците на албанската етничка заедница е многу повеќе од нивното реално учество во вкупното население.
            "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
            GOTSE DELCEV

            Comment

            • George S.
              Senior Member
              • Aug 2009
              • 10116

              On the Road of Time – Chapter 8



              By Petre Nakovski

              Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

              [email protected]

              August 19, 2012



              At the border crossing Kristalopigi (Macedonian Smrdesh), one of the most beautiful villages in Kostur Region, the border guard was leafing through our passports. (Kristalopigi, as stated in chapter 6, means “crystal spring” the new Greek name given to the village Smrdesh because of the natural spring of water that runs near the village church, Sveti Giorgi.) He stamped my wife’s visa without hesitation but was not happy with my passport so he went through it, leafing through the pages again. He stared at me for a while, then he stared at my passport photo, giving me the impression that he was suspicious of something. Perhaps he was suspicious of me or perhaps there was something suspicious with my passport?



              “FYROM?” he asked while tapping his finger on the cover of the passport.



              “That’s what it says on the top. In two languages,” I replied.



              “Ah, that’s in your language…” he said.



              “Yes sir!.” In my language, understandably, in my language,” I replied.



              “And your visa? Where is your visa?” he asked and looked at me with stern eyes as if I had been caught stealing something.



              “There is no need. It is written in two languages further down…” I replied.



              “Diplomat? You are a diplomat?” he asked in amazement with a surprising tone of voice and with doubt in his eyes.



              “That’s what it says,” I replied.



              He leafed through the passport again and went and checked in his computer. He looked at me suspiciously again and asked:



              “From which border point did you enter Greece?”



              “From Niki…” I answered. (For those who don’t know, the Macedonian name for Niki is Negochani)



              “There is no evidence here that you crossed the border…” he said while suspiciously looking into my eyes and nervously tapping his pen on my passport.



              “There is,” I said. “You dropped it when you were leafing through my passport.”



              “Yes, here it is,” he said in an unhappy tone of voice. “So you entered five days ago and today you are leaving?...” he asked and then stamped the piece of paper with a hard bang, as if taking his anger out on the paper and then asked: “What will you be doing in Albania?”



              “We are going to look for a bride…” I said mockingly.



              He handed me the passports with a frowning look on his face, without saying a word.



              The hard bang of the stamp reminded me of my last year’s visit to Greece when I crossed the border at the Niki border crossing. The border police officer was a young man. After leafing through my passport and checking its validity on his computer, he pulled a printout out of an envelope and began to ask me all sorts of questions like my first name, my surname, the name of my father and mother, place… and immediately after that he gave me an advanced warning:



              “I want to know, not how you call yourself now, but how you were called…”



              I didn’t let him finish before I interrupted and asked: “Are you thinking of the name that I was registered in the church register?”



              “Exactly that…” he said.



              “Exactly, but for that I don’t have confirmation. At the municipality they told me that I do exist by the first and last name you asked me to tell you but they also told me that they are prohibited from issuing me a certificate to prove it…” I replied.



              The officer did not know what to say. He thought about it for a while as we looked at each other. Then I smiled and said: “Sir, open the drawer and there you will find all the information you are looking for. I’ve crossed this border check point several times before and always with the same papers. So you are wasting your time and paper for nothing...”



              The young officer looked at me for a moment, dropped his pen and said: “This is what we were ordered to do and I am carrying out my orders.”



              “Okay then, do your job…” I replied.



              “But those here who ordered us to do this don’t see that the whole world is moving forward and we Greeks are moving backwards. People have gone to the moon but we Greeks are still standing in the same spot. You understand?!” he said.



              “No, I don’t understand…” I said and as I tried to ask for clarification as to what was I to understand, I heard the “boom” of the stamp on my piece of paper, with which, if necessary, I needed to prove that I had crossed the border legally.



              “Welcome!” he said and handed me the passports through the half open window on the counter and asked: “Where are you going?”



              There was a civilian standing a little ways from us, probably listening to our conversation. He spoke up and said in Greek: “Stin parida tus pigenun… Sto patriko tus homa. Etsi den ine?” (They are going to their homeland… To the land of their ancestors! Isn’t that right?)



              I turned towards the man and, as confirmation of his statement and question, I winked and said to myself, “It appears that sick Greece is now beginning to slowly recover...” Unfortunately my diagnosis was premature.



              After moving my car into position to pass through customs, a small man, I am referring to him as a small man because he was very thin, short, narrow in the shoulders, bold and had a pale face, seeming like he was sick with tuberculosis, but he had a strong voice and with a sharp tone demanded:



              “Open!!!” he said in Macedonian in a loud voice.



              I came out of the car and in Macedonian, asked: “All the doors and the trunk?”



              “What!? Are you speaking to me in that…” he cleared his throat and spit, “in that gypsy language? Why don’t you speak Greek? You know Greek! You were speaking Greek to the policeman, eh? Or have you forgotten that this is Greece and everyone who sets foot on Greek soil must speak Greek? Move away from the car!” he ordered.



              I did as he asked and moved away. The little customs man was now in control. I then whispered to my wife: “Switch over to the other side and keep an eye on his hands, make sure he doesn’t toss anything into the car that will land us in jail…”



              The little customs man angrily ran out of the inspection station to the parking lot and, from the van, brought back a dog; a German shepherd. Now the two of them, the little customs man and his dog were in charge. The German shepherd sniffed under the seats, jumped into the trunk, got out, sniffed the tires and then the exhaust pipe. The dog then sat down and raised its muzzle, looking at the little man, seemingly saying all this work was done for nothing. The man then ordered the dog to go back to the van and motioned for me to leave.


              Without saying a word I pointed to the two suitcases that were taken out of my trunk and motioned that they should be put back. We angrily looked at each other for a few seconds until he realized that it was his duty to put them back and one by one he obediently put the bags back in the trunk and checked to make sure that they were correctly placed.


              “Bravo!” I said, keeping my anger and frustration to myself.



              The drive over the curvy and dangerous road in Bigla seemed to calm down our nerves but still we were very unhappy about what had happened to us at the border crossing. While heading to Kostur we decided to stop in Rulia. They call the village “Kota” now, named after Kote a no good scoundrel and enemy of the Macedonian people who killed and cut off the head of the Macedonian revolutionary leader Lazo Poptraikov. There was a paved road leading to the village and at the entrance was a “welcoming” marble bust of Kote. We parked our car at the village square beside a Lada with licence plates from Skopje. Several people came out of their yards and approached us. Among them was also a man in a policeman’s uniform.



              “Hi, how are you?” one of the men asked in Macedonian. “Welcome. Are you from Rulia?”



              “We are fine, thank you,” I answered “We are not from Rulia, we are just visiting…”



              We conversed for about fifteen minutes before a wrinkled old lady, holding a cane, interrupted us.



              “How are you? Where are you from my children? Welcome. Are you from Rulia? I don’t recognize you,” she said in a shaky voice.



              “We are from over that mountain,” I said, pointing to the north.



              “Oh, good, good…” she said, coughed and walked away. And as if she had forgotten something she returned and, while hitting the asphalt with her cane, in broken Greek she said: “Edo ine Elada… Avto to glosa na mi to milate. Na milate ta Elinika…” (This is Greece. Don’t speak that language here. Speak Greek…)



              The people broke into laughter. The policeman took the old lady to the side and in Greek, told her: “Grandma go home and leave the people to speak as they wish.”



              When the policeman returned I said: “Don’t discourage the old lady maybe she is one of Kote’s cousins…”



              After three days of visiting our homeland, as the man at the border crossing correctly pointed out, we returned to the Republic of Macedonia, again over the Niki (Negochani) border crossing. After we had passed through customs I asked to see the Police Chief and briefed him regarding the customs officer’s behaviour at Kristalopigi. He advised me that this was not a matter for the police and that I should speak to the Chief of Customs. But at that time the Chief of Customs was on vacation so I made contact with his deputy. After showing him my diplomatic passport, I told him what had happened and at the end I said: “At the border crossing there is a huge sign with the writing ‘ΕΛΛΑΣ’ and ‘GREECE’. There is something missing on the sign.” He looked at me with a stunned look on his face. “You need to also write that everyone who enters Greece must speak only Greek. Sir,” I continued, “in my job I have passed through many borders all throughout Europe and around the world and everyone asked me how I was doing, how was my trip and they wished me a nice visit in their country and no one has ever said to me that I needed to speak only in their language because it was their country I was visiting. This kind of behaviour reminded me of the Metaxas days when my mother and father and my grandmother and grandfather were punished for speaking their native language, the only language they spoke…”



              “But sir, please, sir, leave history alone. It is the past... I apologize to you. You are right. Sorry. It is truly a shame if that’s what the customs officer said to you... You know he is ‘Ντοπιος’...” (Ντοπιος – endopios is what the Greeks call the Macedonians in Northern Greece.)



              I walked away and said to myself: “if he is Ντοπιος then he must be one of Kote’s cousins…”
              "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
              GOTSE DELCEV

              Comment

              • George S.
                Senior Member
                • Aug 2009
                • 10116

                REQUEST TO ALL Macedonian Orthodox believers.
                Please help us build lodges in the Sv. Giorgia monastery
                where the miracle makers Sv. Atanasij, Sv. Petar and Pavle and Sv. Spas reside.
                БАРАЊЕ ДО СИТЕ МАКЕДОНСКИ ПРАВОСЛАВНИ ВЕРНИЦИ
                За изградба на конаци во Манастирот Свети Ѓорѓија
                Каде чудотворат и Св.Атанасиј, Св. Петар и Павле и Св. Спас


                THE HOLY PLACE is located at the Bitola-Lerin / Zhabeni-Bistritsa crossroads and is elevated by five Orthodox saints.


                СВЕТОТО МЕСТО на раскрсницата Битола- Лерин/ Жабени- Бистрица, облагородено е од пет православни светии.



                As they came to sleep by the believers so this holy place is blessed with churches and chapels of 5 saints: Sv. Giorgi, Sv. Aatanasii, Sv. Petar and Pavle, and Sv. Spas


                Како што доаѓаа на сон кај верниците така ова свето место се благослови со цркви и параклиси на 5 светци:



                Свети Ѓорѓија, Свети Аатанасиј, Свети Петар и Павле и Свети Спас







                Celebrated and honoured in this sacred place are the Orthodox days of all 5 saints. Pilgrims come from Macedonia, Greece and the Diaspora. The monastery only has chapels with no lodges for the believers to stay in.


                Во ова свето место се празнуваат и чествуваат православните денови на сите 5 светци. Доаѓаат верници од сите страни, од Македонија, од Грција и од дијаспората. Манастирот има само параклиси но, верниците немаат каде да престојуваат.





                Dear Orthodox believers, quarters are missing for our visitors.



                Драги православни верници, Недостасуваат конаци.



                We are asking you please to donate, as much as you can, as much as you are able, to help us build hospices in this wonderful, worldly place.


                Ве молиме кој колку сака и кој колку може да донираме и да ги изградиме конаците на ова чудесно световно место.



                The Miracles of Sv. Giorgi, Sv. Aatanasii, Sv. Petar and Pavle, and Sv. Spas await the believers who will sleep in these lodges. Those who help build the lodges will not only feel good, be protected and comforted by the saints but they will allow many lodgers to experience the comfort and wonders of these saints as well.


                Чудата на Свети Ѓорѓија, Свети Аатанасиј, Свети Петар и Павле и Свети Спас ги очекуваат верниците кои би спиеле во конаците. Бездетност, болести, разочарувања, по луѓето ќе бидат утешени и чудата ќе продолжат ако заедно помогнеме да се изградат конаците.



                Job 6 [6:22] Did I not say: “Give me a gift, donate some of your property; Job 6 [6:23] Deliver me from the hostile hand, release me from tormenting slavery?”


                Јов 6 [6:22] Дали ви реков: „Подарете ми нешто, дарувајте ми нешто од својот имот; Јов 6 [6:23] избавете ме од непријателска рака, ослободете ме од силниковото ропство?”



                Matthew 9 (Mark 9:41) 40 “Whoever serves you, serves Me, and they who serve Me serve our heavenly Father who has sent me. 41 Anyone who serves is a member[f] of God because they are God’s envoy, and will receive the same reward as a member of God. And anyone who serves is righteous because they are righteous and will receive the same reward as a righteous. 42 Anyone who will serve even one glass of cold water to at least one of my followers, because they are My disciples, I assure you that they will not remain without reward.”



                Матеј 9 (Мк. 9:41) 40 „Кој ве угостува вас, Мене Ме угостува, а тој што Ме угостува Мене, Го угостува небесниот Татко што Ме има испратено. 41 Секој што угостува божји пратеник[f]затоа што е божји пратеник, ќе добие иста награда како и божјиот пратеник. И секој што угостува праведник затоа што е праведник, ќе добие иста награда како праведникот. 42 Секој што ќе му даде макар само една чаша студена вода на еден од Моите најмали следбеници, затоа што е Мој следбеник, ве уверувам дека таквиот нема да остане без награда.“


                Matthew 6 (Matt. 6:6,18; 23:5; 2Kor. 9:9) “Beware of expressing piety and goodness in order to show off to the people, because then you will not have a reward from your Father. 2 And when you do give generously, do not trumpet it everywhere, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues [a] and on the streets. They do it to be praised by the people. I assure you that there will be no reward for them! 3 But you, when you give generously, your left hand must not know that the right had given; 4 your generous donations shall be discreet, and your heavenly Father, who sees even secrets, will reward you.”


                Матеј 6 (Мт. 6:6,18; 23:5; 2Кор. 9:9) „Пазете се од искажување побожност и добрина со цел да се покажете пред луѓето, зашто тогаш не ќе имате награда од вашиот небесен Татко. 2 А кога давате милостини, не трубете насекаде, како што тоа го прават лицемерите по синагогите[a] и по улиците. Тие го прават тоа за да бидат пофалени од луѓето. Ве уверувам дека друга награда за нив ќе нема! 3 А ти, кога ќе даваш милостини, твојата лева рака да не знае што дала десната; 4 нека бидат дискретни твоите милостини, а твојот небесен Татко, Кој го гледа и тоа што е тајно, ќе те награди јавно.“



                Matthew 7 (Lk.11 :9-13) 7 “Pray and ye shall receive: seek and ye shall find; knock and it will be opened, 8 because anyone who asks - will receive; the one who seeks - will find; for they who knock – it will be opened. 9 Is there anyone among you that would give their own son a stone if he asks for bread? 10 or give them a snake, if they ask for a fish? 11 So when you, who are sinful, learn how to give good gifts to your children – then you will receive more and better things from your heavenly Father when you pray to Him!”




                Матеј 7 (Лк.11:9-13) 7 „Молете и ќе добиете; барајте и ќе најдете; почукајте и ќе ви биде отворено, 8 бидејќи, секој што моли - ќе добие; оној што бара - ќе најде; на оној што чука - ќе му биде отворено. 9 Има ли меѓу вас некој, кој на својот син би му дал камен, ако тој моли за леб? 10 Или да му подаде змија, ако тој моли за риба!? 11 Па, кога вие, коишто сте грешни, знаете да им давате добри подароци на своите деца - колку повеќе и подобри нешта ќе добие од својот небесен Татко оној што ќе Го замоли!“





                *********

                If you are faithful and if you would like to help build the quarters to lodge visitors, please donate as much as you can, as much as you want and be blessed with peace, prosperity, good health and God’s love. Amen


                Ако сте верници и ако милувате заедно да помогнеме да се изгради конакот, дарувајте кој колку може, кој колку сака и бидете Благословени со мир, благосостојба, добро здравје и Божја љубов. Амин



                To facilitate with the construction a special account has been opened in the organization SEMAK


                За спроведување на изградбата отворена е посебна сметка во организацијата СЕМАК



                For payments in Macedonian Denars
                ZG SEMAK, s.Kravari Bitola
                Tobacco Bank AD Skopje f.Bitola
                ZHS 21057823330159
                EDB 4002003157161


                За уплати во денари

                ЗГ СЕМАК, с.Кравари- Битола

                Тутунска Банка АД Скопје- ф.Битола

                ЖС 21057823330159

                ЕДБ 4002003157161



                For payments in foreign currency
                ZG SEMAK, s.Kravari-Bitola
                IBAN: MK07 210701000524193
                SWIFT: TUTNMK22



                За уплати во девизи

                ZG SEMAK, s.Kravari- Bitola

                IBAN: MK07 210701000524193

                SWIFT: TUTNMK22
                "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                GOTSE DELCEV

                Comment

                • George S.
                  Senior Member
                  • Aug 2009
                  • 10116

                  Dr. Janev: Mak Plan of Action at the UN
                  Dr. Janev: Mak Plan of Action at the UN



                  Tuesday, 21 August 2012







                  To:
                  H.E. Ban Ki-moon
                  Secretary General,
                  United Nations,
                  New York

                  Re: Request for inclusion of a Resolution on the UNGA’s next session agenda


                  Your Excellency,

                  I have the honour to address you with the questions of legality of the conditions imposed on Republic of Macedonia for its admission to UN membership and the legal status of Macedonia in the United Nations.

                  In this context, I take the liberty of reminding you that the admission of Republic of Macedonia to UN membership in April 1993 by the General Assembly (GA Res. 47/225 (1993)), pursuant the Security Council recommendation for such admission (SC Res. 817 (1993)), was associated with the provision that the applicant state be “provisionally referred to for all purposes within the United Nations as the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, pending settlement of the difference that has arisen over the name of the State”. The last part of this provision implies negotiation with Greece over the name of Macedonia, and is more explicitly spelled out in SC Res. 817 (1993).
                  I would also like to remind you that the objections of Macedonian Government to the above mentioned denomination FYROM and to the non-standard admission procedure, contained in UN Doc. S/25541 (1993), were ignored.

                  The aim of the present letter, Sir, is to submit our request to include in the agenda of the next session of the UN General Assembly a resolution requesting an advisory opinion from the International Court of Justice regarding the legal validity and legality of above mentioned resolutions in their parts related to the use of a provisional name for Macedonia within UN and to negotiate with Greece on that subject.
                  The basis for this request is our strong view that the conditions for admission of Republic of Macedonia to UN membership, namely

                  (i) acceptance to be provisionally referred to, within the UN, as Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia, and


                  (ii) acceptance to negotiate with Greece over its name, are inconsistent with the provisions of the UN Charter. This inconsistency is manifested, in our opinion, on three levels:

                  1) procedural level (right of a state to unconditional admission to UN membership once it has been recognized, by the judgement of Security Council, that the state fulfils the criteria for admission set forth in Article 4(1) of the Charter);

                  2) substantive level (interference of the UN Organization in matters of a state –such as the choice of its constitutional name – which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of that state, contrary to Article 2(7) of the Charter); and

                  3) membership legal status (inequality with other UN member-states due to the additional obligation (ii) and derogated juridical personality in the field of representation due to the condition (i), contrary to the principle of “sovereign equality of the Members”, Article 2(1) of the Charter).

                  That the conditions (i) and (ii) served indeed as conditions for admission of Macedonia to UN membership, and are additional with respect to those set forth in Article 4(1) of the Charter, is evident from:

                  a) the neglect of the objection of Macedonian Government to the imposition of the condition (i) (contained in UN Doc. S/25541(1993);

                  b) they are functionally disconnected with the judgement on admission as they transcend in time the act of admission (thus transforming themselves into membership obligations);

                  c) they are introduced despite the explicit recognition in SC Res. 817 (1993) that “the applicant fulfils the criteria” of Article 4(1) of the Charter for admission;

                  d) the fulfilment of the obligation (ii) does not depend solely on Macedonian Government, but essentially on the recognition of Macedonian legal identity by another state, which is contrary to the criteria on the legality of imposing conditions relating to the recognition of a state by another state, member of the UN, enshrined in the Advisory Opinion of May 28, 1948 of the International Court of Justice.

                  The procedural inconsistency of the conditions (i) and (ii) with the Charter’s provisions follows, in our view, clearly and directly from the interpretation of Article 4(1) of the Charter by the International Court of Justice given in its Advisory Opinion of May 28, 1948 as a legal rule. We remind that this interpretation was adopted by the General Assembly the same year (see, GA Res.197/III (1948)). According to that interpretation, the conditions laid down in Article 4(1) of the Charter are explicit and exhaustive (i.e. they are necessary and sufficient); once they are recognized as being fulfilled, the applicant state acquires an unconditional right to admission to UN membership (and, conversely, the Organization has a duty to admit such applicant due to its “openness” for admission, enshrined in the same Article 4(1), and due to its universal character). In the words of Court’s Advisory Opinion, and the resolution GA Res.197/III (1948), “a Member of the United Nations, when pronouncing its vote in the General Assembly or Security Council, is not juridically entitled to make its consent on the admission of a state to UN membership dependent on conditions not expressly provided in Article 4(1)”.

                  The inconsistency of conditions (i) and (ii) with Article 2(7) of the Charter follows, in our view, from the fact that the name of a state (as a legal identity of an international legal person) is an essential element of its juridical personality, the choice by a state of its own name is, therefore, an inherent right of that state and belongs stricto sensu in the domain of its domestic jurisdiction. According to the principle of separability of domestic and international jurisdictions, the choice of its own name by a state does not create international legal rights for that state, nor does it impose legal obligations on other states. Therefore, the name of a state per se has no relevance to the qualifications that may be legally considered in connection with the admission of that state to UN membership.

                  Finally, the conditions (i) and (ii) obviously define an unequal UN membership status for Macedonia with respect to other member-states. This status severely violates the principle of “sovereign equality of members” (Article 2(1) of the Charter) and strongly derogates the juridical personality of Republic of Macedonia. It is inconsistent with the principles of juridical equality of states (see, GA Res. 2625 (XXV) of 24 Oct.1970) and non-discrimination in representation and membership (see, UN Doc. A / CONF. 67/16 (March 14, 1975)).

                  I would like, Sir, to bring to your attention also the “Memorandum on the Legal Aspects of the Problem of Representation in the United Nations” (UN Doc. S/1466 of 1958), which also has relevance to the admission of Republic of Macedonia to the UN membership. In this document, prepared by the UN Secretariat for the Secretary General, it is clearly stated that the admission to UN membership, as a collective act of the General Assembly, is based on the right to membership of any state that meets the prescribed criteria for membership (Article 4(1) of the Charter) and has no relation to the recognition of that state by another state. The Greek opposition to the admission of Republic of Macedonia to UN membership under its constitutional name, and its reflection in the imposition of conditions (i) and (ii), was essentially linking impermissibly the two legal acts and their respective preconditions.

                  In connection with the views expressed above regarding the legal basis of the imposed conditions (i) and (ii) for admission of Republic of Macedonia to UN membership and the related to them legal status of Republic of Macedonia as a UN member, we kindly request that the attached Resolution be placed as an item on the Agenda of the next Session of the General Assembly of the United Nations.

                  I believe, Sir, that the clarification of the above legal matters by the International Court of Justice will help to better understand the legal quality and legal consequences of the resolutions GA Res. 47/225 (1993) and SC Res. 817 (1993) and indicate the directions of possible future actions.

                  Accept, Sir, the assurances of my highest consideration.


                  Sincerely yours,

                  George Ivanov
                  President of the Republic of Macedonia



                  RESOLUTION (proposed text)

                  The General Assembly

                  Considering Article 2 of the Charter of the United Nations,

                  Considering Article 4 of the Charter of the United Nations,

                  Considering Article 96 of the Charter of the United Nations,

                  Considering the General Assembly Resolution 113/II of 1947,

                  Considering the General Assembly Resolution 197/III of 1948,

                  Considering the Advisory Opinion of the International Court of Justice of 28 May, 1948,
                  For the purpose to determine whether additional conditions were imposed in the procedure of admitting “The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia” to the membership of the United Nations, outside the scope of the exhaustive conditions of Article 4(1) of the Charter of the United Nations,

                  Decides to submit the following legal question to the International Court of Justice:

                  Are the specific conditions enshrined in resolutions GA Res. 47/225 (1993) of the General Assembly and SC Res. 817 (1993) of the Security Council in their parts relating to the denomination “Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia”, with the requirement for settlement of the “difference that has arisen over the name of the State”, outside the scope of the exhaustive conditions of Article 4(1) of the Charter of the United Nations and legally in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations?
                  "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                  GOTSE DELCEV

                  Comment

                  • George S.
                    Senior Member
                    • Aug 2009
                    • 10116

                    World Macedonian Congress

                    Macedonia NEVER belonged to the Albanians

                    And

                    Neither did the Albanians liberate Skopje!


                    August 16, 2012, Skopje, Macedonia – The Macedonian World Congress (WMC) adamantly rejects all claims that “Albanians liberated Skopje” in 1844, 1881 and on August 12, 1912. These are historic manipulation NOT historic facts!



                    There is no historic record showing Macedonians ever invading Albanian territories or Macedonia ever been part of the Albanian state. Historically the Albanians never formed a government, nor manifested elements of statehood on Macedonia’s territory. The Vilayets during Ottoman times were not ethnically based, and the Skopje vilayet was never Albanian. Unfortunately, parts of Macedonia today are found in Albania and in Kosovo.



                    And, despite everything, the Macedonian people still respect borders as inviolable, demonstrating to the national minorities in Macedonia tolerance and coexistence accepting their ethnic, linguistic, cultural, religious and historical differences! We therefore most seriously warn the Albanians not to build Nazi fascist projections in foreign territories. Not to ethnically cleanse Macedonian territories and displace Macedonian people from their native Macedonian hearths with migrants from Kosovo and from Albania!



                    WMC still believes that the war in 2001 was not a war between Macedonians and Albanians, nor a war between Orthodox and Muslims, but a simulated war for the implementation of certain global interests for some major powers who would like to have their own spheres of influence in the region. Independent of census results, WMC respects the right to institutionalized cultural autonomy for ethnic minority communities. WMC respects the laws that provide rights and freedoms to minorities in accordance with the Constitutional amendments of 2001. WMC would like to remind that despite UCK attempts to create “free territories” in Macedonia and despite the ethnic cleansing committed against the Macedonian population and other non-civilian populations in the crisis regions in 2001, the Macedonian people still reached out to reconcile by giving amnesty for crimes committed against the state and against the people.



                    But at the same time the WMC warns that any attempts to change the ethnic structure of the population or the ownership of the land or forging history and census results, will be rejected and met with force if necessary. Macedonia’s territorial integrity and sovereignty with be vigorously defended!



                    Тврдењето дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје на 12 август 1912 година претставува груба манипулација со историските факти.








                    СВЕТСКИ МАКЕДОНСКИ КОНГРЕС



                    НИТУ МАКЕДОНИЈА БИЛА АЛБАНСКА ЗЕМЈА, НИТУ СКОПЈЕ ГО ОСЛОБОДИЛЕ АЛБАНЦИ!



                    16 август 2012 година, Скопје, Македонија - Светскиот Македонски Конгрес (СМК) со индигнација го отфрла тврдењето дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје во 1844, 1881 и на 12 август 1912 година како груба манипулација со историските факти!



                    Македонците во историјата никогаш не окупирале албански земји, ниту Македонија кога и да е била дел од албанска држава. Албанците историски никогаш не формирале власт, ниту манифестирале елементи на државност на територијата на Македонија. Вилаетите за време на Отоманската Империја не биле на етничка основа, а Скопскиот вилает воопшто не бил албански. За жал, делови од Македонија и денес се наоѓаат и во Албанија и во Косово.



                    И покрај се’, Македонците ги почитуваат границите како неповредиви, демонстрираат толеранција и коегзистенција кон етничките, јазичните, културните, верските и историските разлики на националните малцинства во Македонија, и затоа упатуваат најсериозно предупредување до Албанците да не си градат наци-фашистички проекции на туѓи територии и во атарите на други народи и држави со тивка “окупација“ на просторот, иселување на Македонците од своите родни огништа и дива емиграција од Косово и Албанија во Македонија!



                    СМК и натаму смета дека војната во 2001 година не беше војна меѓу Македонците и Албанците, ниту меѓу православните и муслиманите, туку симулирана војна за имплементација на определени глобални интереси на некои големи сили за свои сфери на влијание на овие простори. Независно од пописните резултати, СМК го почитува правото на институционализирана културна автономија на малцинските етнички заедници и правото на стекнатите права и слободи со амандманите на Уставот од 2001 година. СМК потсетува дека и покрај обидите на УЧК за создавање на “слободни територии“ во Македонија и етничкото чистење и насилно прогонство на Македонците и другото неалбанско цивилно население во кризните региони во 2001 година, македонскиот народ подаде рака на помирување со амнестија на кривичните дела против државата.



                    Но, СМК предупредува дека секој обид за промена на етничката структура на населението со промена на сопственоста на земјата и фалсификување на историјата и пописните резултати ќе се отфрли и територијалниот интегритет и суверенитетот на Македонија со сите сили и средства ќе се бранат и самоодбранат!



                    Тврдењето дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје на 12 август 1912 година претставува груба манипулација со историските факти.
                    "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                    GOTSE DELCEV

                    Comment

                    • George S.
                      Senior Member
                      • Aug 2009
                      • 10116

                      On the Road of Time – Chapter 9



                      By Petre Nakovski

                      Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

                      [email protected]

                      August 26, 2012



                      The Albanian border crossing was not as elaborate as the one on the Greek side with its lounge, café, shop, tourist brochures and piles of newspapers and magazines lying there laden with dust and soiled by flies. And contrary to the behaviour of the Greek officer, the Albanian officer greeted us with a smile and welcomed us in our language. We in return greeted him with the Albanian words “mir dita” (good day); thus establishing a cordial mutual relationship.



                      “Are you Macedonians? From Skopje?” he asked as he examined our passports.



                      “Yes, we are Macedonians,” I answered.



                      “I can tell by the licence plate on your car. Please let me see your international driver’s licence and proof of insurance for your vehicle. It would be a shame if you don’t have these documents because without them you will not be allowed to enter Albania. I am sorry but that’s the law here,” explained the policeman.



                      I gave him an envelope which contained all the documents that he was looking for. “This will take a while,” he said, “please have a seat and I will call you when I am done.” The policeman then shut the window over the counter, leaned over and began to write things down. About twenty minutes later he called us back.



                      “Everything is in order,” he said.



                      “How much do we owe you?” I asked.



                      “There is no charge for you sir, but the lady will have to pay one euro. Will you be paying in “leks” (Albanian money), in your money, or in some other currency?” he asked. He then said, “Keep this receipt, they will ask you for it when you exit Albania. Also later you will be paying an additional two euros for use of our roads.”



                      Although he did not ask us for our visas he did not forget to ask what the purpose of our trip to Albania was.



                      So I said, “The Greek policeman asked us the same question.”

                      “What did you tell him?” he asked.

                      I replied, “…to look for a bride…”



                      We all burst out laughing, which caught the attention of those behind us waiting in line.



                      “Goodbye and enjoy your stay with us,” he said as we departed.



                      Both sides of the border crossing were surrounded by forested hills, shaded in dark clouds, ready to start raining. The wide asphalt road, part of which was constructed by the Macedonian firm “Granit”, stretched along the narrow gorge on whose slopes, clumped like mushrooms, were concrete bunkers with grey lids; remnants of a recent bygone era. Along the way we saw a traffic sign at an intersection indicating: “Right to Bilisht” (Bilishta in Macedonian) and “Left to Kapsthice” (Kapeshtitsa in Macedonian). We turned left. The road was paved up to the entrance of the village located about five hundred metres from the intersection. There was no road after that… Where to now…



                      Beyond the paved road, on what looked like a cobblestone path, was a narrow lane paved with pounded rocks and mud, laden with puddles of muddy water. It seemed like the 20th century ended here and we were entering the 19th century. I came out of the car to examine the road and see if our SAHO was capable of jumping over the rocks and swimming through the mud puddles. We decided to risk it.



                      We drove down the narrow lane about twenty metres or so before our left tires got stuck at the edge of a compost heap. At that point a flock of screaming chickens ran off in all directions as a pack of barking, village dogs charged at us. It seemed like the loud barking awakened the villagers. Bolted wooden gates flung open and women and children silently stared at us from their yards. Filth from the spinning tires flung over and was sprayed along the lane, which ended several metres down. In front of us was a tiny lawn, which probably was the town square and a little to the right were three tables. I guess this was the village inn. I got out of the car, walked over to the men sitting around the tables and greeted them with “mir dita”, in Albanian. There were bottles of coca cola and juice on the tables. The men looked at me suspiciously and continued to play their game. The game they played is called “Iuch.” It is a popular game in the Balkan villages. I said “mir dita” again and asked if anyone spoke Macedonian. There was silence. “Does anyone speak Greek?” I then asked. Again there was silence. They remained mute and I too remained mute and mute I left to return to my car.



                      “Hey, you!” I heard a voice calling. I turned. “Wait!” said one of the men in Greek as he started coming towards me. “Are you foreigners? What are you doing here?” he asked.



                      “We are visiting,” I said.



                      “Who are you visiting? Are you looking for something?” the man asked without looking into my eyes. He looked to the side and somewhere far away.



                      “We are looking for the road to Trstenik,” I said. “This is what the village was called before.”



                      “There is no such village,” he replied.



                      “How about Trestenik?” I asked, remembering that that is how it was written on the Albanian map.



                      “Yes there is a Trestenik. Turn left and then go straight along the road,” he replied.



                      “Is the road any good?” I asked.



                      “Very good…” he replied.



                      “Thank you. Be well!” I said and left.



                      After slowly pulling out of the compost heap we turned left, drove down the village lane, scared the chickens off the street at the end of the lane and, after being barked at by every dog we met, came out of the village and got on the “very good” road. We lost track of the many rocks we ran over, the many puddles we drove through and the amount of mud we scattered around, driving along the “very good” road. And as we continued along, a horse drawn carriage came towards us from the opposite direction. The wheels of the carriage jumped as they hit the stones, tilting the carriage sideways and jostling the people riding on it.



                      “Stop the car!” piped up my wife. “Don’t go any further because we will have nothing to return in. The car will be destroyed. Turn around.”



                      I stopped in front of the horse and said “mir dita” through the open window. One of them gave me the same greeting and that was the extent of our conversation.



                      “Trestenik?” I asked while pointing my hand in our forward direction.



                      “Trestenik,” said the man and shook the reins for the horse to get going.



                      I too shook the reins of my car to resume the trek on the “very good” road, constantly wondering how long before we would break down and how many nuts and bolts we were going to sow on this road. The road was rough and full of deep potholes. All around from there to the border of the village was a single flat green valley planted with wheat. There was not an inch of land that was not plowed and planted. We continued to drive and about twenty minutes later we came to the first houses in Trstenik, or as the Albanians call it Trestenik.



                      I remember Trstenik from my childhood days. In those days there were only a few white houses and the yard was surrounded by a high wall. The yard wall was also painted white. Trstenik was then a great Chiflik which included almost the entire field that lies from here to Bilishcha. Trstenik is now a large village but judging from the clothes people wear and the exhaustion and fatigue on their faces, it is a poor village.


                      We greeted the villagers with the customary “mir dita” but we hardly got a response. They were dubious about people who had foreign licence plates on their car and who spoke a foreign language. A tall woman came out of a house and said something in Albanian. We didn’t understand what she said so we asked her if she spoke Macedonian or Greek. She said she spoke very little Greek. She said she was a retired teacher and that she had learned some Greek from her children and grandchildren who work in Greece.



                      Other villagers gathered around us and we found it strange that none would look us in the eyes or in the face. They looked down or far away when we made contact, seeming as if they were telling us to leave this place at once. We told the retired teacher that sixty years ago we had spent a night here, in one of the meadows between Trstenik and Lobanitsa. We also said that the meadows must be behind the hill east of the village and that we very much wanted to see the place.



                      “There is no road that goes there,” she said, “there are only fields.”



                      The bunkers, I thought, one can see the round white concrete covers from here. I said “faleminderit” (thank you in Albanian) but I was not sure if I had said it right because none of the villagers who were gathered around us replied, they just shook their heads and stood there in silence, digging and straightening the soil under their feet with their rubber boots, seemingly wondering when we were going to leave.



                      We didn’t leave immediately because from here I could clearly see my village, my birthplace. Even though I had been there the other day I had a renewed desire to see it again so I stood there for a long time, staring at the beautiful and memorable landscape with tears in my eyes, feeling immense sadness. I was feeling hurt, very hurt being forced to abandon it... It was hard to picture Telok with heavy tears in my eyes...



                      …Yes there, there is Telok beyond the Sveti Iovan church. Every year on May 8th the villagers from the surrounding villages gathered there. More than ten lambs were roasted on spits and the music and dancing did not stop until way past sundown. To the left is the leafy green Nakovski oak tree grove which my grandfather Giorgi purchased from the Turkish Beg after his first pechalba (migrant work) in America. Past the grove is the Sveta Bogoroditsa church which was destroyed in the fall of 1947 and rebuilt in 1980. Golema Bogoroditsa (The Great Mother), considered the biggest holiday in Krchishta, is celebrated on August 15th. Golema Bogoroditsa was celebrated during Turkish and Greek times, that is until the village was eradicated during the Greek Civil War and Golema Bogoroditsa was completely abandoned…



                      Many people came to visit us that day, not just relatives but also residents from the villages Dolno Papratsko, Novoseleni, Lobanitsa, Kosinets, Dmbeni, Smrdesh, Breznitsa, Vmbel and all those who were working in the cities...



                      I closed my eyes for a moment and I could see people celebrating and full of joy. I stood there with my eyes closed afraid that if I opened them, my memory of that world, like an unforgettable dream, would immediately disappear. Further over is Stenite and beyond that is the chain of mountains – Orle, Odre, Gorusha, Aliavitsa.



                      Is it a dream? Is it a ghost? No, it is real. My birthplace is close; it is so close I just needed to run, cross the little river that divides the two countries and climb on Telok. But here they placed a great divide between our people so that we couldn’t see each other or visit our birthplace. No lamb has been roasted on a spit in Telok for the last sixty years. Krchishta, for the last sixty years, has not celebrated the Great Mother, a celebration held every year on August 15th without fail. For sixty years the Poprashcheni, Novoseltsi, Kosincheni, Lobancheni, Dmbencheni, Smrdesheni, Vmbelcheni have not come to stay with us because they are all gone, swallowed by bad fate and spit all around the world. They uprooted us from our birthplace. They told us that a great battle was coming and that we needed to leave, to go to Albania to save ourselves. A year later they told others, the ones from Koreshtata, that they too needed to leave, to go to Albania to save themselves because a great battle was coming. And from there they put us on ships and sent us to foreign climates under the eaves of others... They relocated us - moved us and told us – “now you’re free”...



                      Our houses are gone, our villages are gone, we are gone, disappeared by name, by home and by people... our foundations too are gone... others brought their own names and made our places their homes. Sixty years have passed in silence without the beating of the drum, the playing of the flute, the ringing of a cowbell, the flocks of sheep taking to the hills, the cry of a newborn, the ringing of the church bell. The hearth has been extinguished and the spark has gone, taken by the wind... That is what someone wished us and that’s exactly how it turned out.



                      From Trstenik, with my fogged-up eyes full of tears, I could see Telok, Stenite and the Sveta Bogoroditsa church. That is all that’s left of my hometown Krchishta when seen from here, so very close but for me so very far...



                      We did not go to the place – the green meadow – where on March 25th, 1948 we spent the night awake, lying on bare ground and covered with moist ferns, waiting for dawn to arrive. We did not go to the place where we spent the night of March 26 where they divided us. We knew which direction to go, but we could not find a path that would take us there. Now the entire place is a field. We did not go there, even though we wanted to, to find the place, to trace our first childhood footsteps in a foreign country and to once again take the same steps on the road that led us to the distant countries. We wanted that very much because it was from here that our one way journey into the world began.



                      We did not forget the place, we remember it well. We also remembered the night filled with quiet, silent, secret and sad sighs involuntarily coming out of our chests… That night, under a starry sky, hugging one another we, then young children separated from the lap of our mother for the first time, sobbed quietly reflecting the full moon in our tears. Our eyes were filled with stars, one of which broke off and fell, it fell somewhere far and fizzled away. Someone said it broke off someone’s happiness, someone’s destiny...


                      Was it our destiny?



                      The colour of the moon that night was amber, shining warmly non-stop reflecting in our eyes, nailed into the infinity of the starry sky. That night the sky was starry and was cut in the middle, from end to end, by the Milky Way. That is how we remember it... That night we were also burdened with a great desire and hope that soon we would return home and, awake, we awaited the arrival of dawn.



                      As the night came to a close and as the stars high up in the sly were falling asleep, we awaited the day with great hope, while sending the night away with pain… The trucks to take us arrived at dawn and we left Trstenik in silence…


                      We left Trstenik feeling sad but filled with compassion for the people of Trstenik, not only because of their poverty but also because of their silence, their distance and their coldness. Was it because of their lack of hospitality that we felt sad? Definitely not! We believe the people of Trstenik (Trestenik) are not at all like that. In their eyes we could see that they were a different people, good and noble people. Here, perhaps among themselves, there must be something else; what it is we don’t know. But we feel that something is bothering them, something deeply ingrained in them and until we find out what it is we will always be there with them.


                      We left Trstenik and did not throw any stones of doubt behind us against the people for whom we had the warmest and most sincere wishes, for whom we had acceptance for their silence and for whom we had compassion for their bitterness and anguish. From our visit we could see that time stood still here even though the houses had electricity and two tractors were parked in the village square. Everything here seemed like it belonged to the last century.



                      There was a half open wooden gate at the village exit through which, in the yard next to the entrance of the house, we could see a grey concrete bunker. In front of the bunker entrance we saw tall green rye grass growing.



                      The villages in the area were linked by narrow lanes which surely remembered old times and the great impression cultivated soil can make. They were the hallmark of the labour and sweat of these silent people who barely spoke a few words and who did not look you in the eyes, but looked at the ground or away.



                      Later in an interview conducted with a Macedonian in Elbasan, I was told:



                      “It does not surprise me how these people responded. In Enver Hoxha’s Albania every stranger was considered an agent of some sort and anyone who saw them had to immediately report them to the authorities. It seems like you had no idea what terror was. They are still afraid. In those days they terrorized us at every opportunity and fear became part of life, part of everyday life. Fear was the largest and most powerful guardian of the government...”



                      Several metres away from the village exit we found ourselves in the midst of a large flat, level wheat field. Gentle wind was blowing down from the direction of Mount Morava caressing and gently rocking the green wheat stalks and bending their heads in great waves. It was an incredible sight to see, which took our breath away and at the same time made us happy, glad that there was hope for the people here. Soon the wheat would ripen and be harvested and if God was willing there would be bread for everyone…



                      We left the village Trstenik behind us, but all this area on both sides of the village road where wheat grows and stalks wave in gentle waves is also Trstenik. Wheat grows straight up and the heads are loaded with grain. The bread slowly ripens in them. It was a fascinating sight to see this green carpet growing in the heart of the ring of surrounding mountains. I drove slowly. I drove slowly but not carefully, not constantly looking at the road to avoid rocks and mud puddles. Also I did not look at my watch checking the time. I got the impression that time was darkening and that it was taking us back.



                      The weather cleared up when we arrived at the first houses of the village Visochishta. This is where the pot-holed, stone laden village road ended and the asphalt paved road began. The asphalt was black and it seemed like it was still warm. We stopped and I came out of the car. My wife very quietly asked:



                      “What is it? Did something happen?”



                      “Yes,” I said with a concerned tone of voice. “We have dirtied the asphalt…”
                      "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                      GOTSE DELCEV

                      Comment

                      • George S.
                        Senior Member
                        • Aug 2009
                        • 10116

                        Albanians did not liberate Skopje in 1912

                        By Tihomir Karanfilov

                        Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

                        Wednesday, August 15, 2012



                        Тврдењето дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје на 12 август 1912 година претставува груба манипулација со историските факти.




                        Albanians claim that they liberated Skopje on August 12, 1912. Those claims are historic manipulation NOT historic facts! The arrival by train of 500 to 600 Albanians in Skopje, then the center of the Kosovo vilayet, and conquering the city crowded with Turkish soldiers, without any struggle, on the eve of the First Balkan War, does not constitute “liberation”! It is pure nonsense. No such “liberation” or any sort of fighting was ever witnessed or documented by foreign diplomats in Skopje.



                        Several years in a row now Albanians in Macedonian have insisted in celebrating August 12th as the day when their ancestors liberated Skopje from the Ottomans. The Macedonian Albanians, without reservation, have accepted Albanian Academy of Sciences claims that Albanians have “liberated” Skopje. This “event” was even mentioned by Albanian Parliamentarian Josefina Topalli while visiting her counterpart Trajko Veljanovski in Skopje.



                        According to the Albanians, their history is not falsified, unlike that of the Macedonians, which they claim is forged. Their politicians and historians claim that their history is objective and that Albanians liberated Skopje several times, in 1844, 1881 and 1912.



                        According to Macedonian historians however, such claims represent a strategy which has aims to prove that Skopje was the center of the Albanian people. Naturally they have to prove that Albanians are an autochthonous and constituent people of this region, which will then lead to their ultimate goal of creating a Greater Albania.



                        Hence, they continue to tell “their story” which claims that “armed Albanians began to arrive in Skopje at the end of July 1912. Some on foot, others by train, and thus they all avoided inspections by the Turkish army. On August 1, about three thousand had already entered the city, and the next day 40 “Arnaut Fiakeri” were joined by their leader Bajram Tsuri, who ordered all prisoners to be released. That’s when the Albanians began to perform police controls, but in no time did they ever face the Turks. Rather, their leader Bajram Tsuri was honored by the Sultan for helping the Turks maintain control.



                        Albanian historiography goes so far as to claim that about 50,000 insurgents liberated Skopje and that the rebels were accepted as liberators by both the Albanian and the Macedonian population. According to these same Albanians the reason that there were no battles is because the Albania army was much disciplined, and of the 14 demands they made to the Ottoman rulers 12 were granted. They say that on August 18, 1912 the Ottoman government recognized Albania’s autonomy and after that, on October 10 Albanian leaders gathered in Skopje and decided to unite the four Albanian vilayets: Skadar, Kosovo, Bitola and Ioannina, and that Hassan Pristhtina wanted to fly Skenderbeg’s flag and declare Albania’s independence in Skopje and not in Valona. But since the Serbs entered Skopje first the plan fell apart.



                        But all these claims made by Albanian politicians and historians are not supported by any facts or evidence. During this period the Balkan-Anti Turkish Alliance was formed and it began intensive preparations for war supported by an extensive propaganda campaign in the press to provoke the Ottoman Empire. The Alliance’s goal was to convince the international public that the situation in Macedonia was grave and as such the Turks had to be expelled from Macedonia. Nothing would improve unless this was done.



                        Under those circumstances the Ottoman Empire certainly did not sit on its hands, it too began preparations for war with various diplomatic moves attempting to avoid the worst case scenario. Before the First Balkan War started the Ottomans began mobilization and transfer of troops and of war materiel to the Serbian border. The railways at first were partially and then completely militarized. Turkish troops from the Vardar Army Corps and from the famous Ali Riza Pasha Western army in Anatolia were transported by the Thracian Railway to Solun and from there using the Macedonian railways, west to Bitola, Western Macedonia and Albania and north to Skopje, Kumanovo to Zibevche - Serbian border.



                        In some such conditions the so-called Albanian insurgents were unable, without reason, to go by train to Skopje and not to be noticed by the Turkish army, unless they were purposely allowed by the Turkish army. In such a concentration of Turkish soldiers equipped with modern military equipment, hardly anyone could have threatened them, least of all the Albanian rebels.



                        Bajram Tsuri, being rewarded by the Sultan, indicates that he was not there to liberate the city. He was there to negotiate with the Ottoman government, regardless of whether he was negotiating political issues or not, he was there because he wanted the Albanian people to be dismissed from recruitment, to avoid waging war on the territory where Albanian people lived or to smuggle weapons.



                        In any case, all this implies that, in these negotiations the Albanians wanted to extract certain concessions from the Turkish authorities, and in return offered to not intervene by staying on the sidelines. In fact the Albanians had agreed not to join the Balkan allies in the coming struggle.



                        The Albanians gave their word that the Albanian population would not rise up against their Muslim brothers, so in return they received rewards from the Turks who not only freed all the jailed Albanians but Bajram Tsuri and his followers were also given cash which they took and returned to their homes.



                        Macedonian historians argue that no facts and historical evidence exists that prove that Skopje was ever liberated by Albanians. They also assert that there is no proof that Albanians established authority or any elements of statehood in Skopje. There is no evidence of any Albanian city governing body or any Albanian city assembly ever taking place in Skopje. The Ottoman army simply withdrew itself after the Ottomans lost the battle in Kumanovo which took place on October 23 and 24, 1912. Panic among the Turkish army and among the Muslim population in Skopje, Kumanovo and Veles, increased dramatically, especially after Feti Pasha’s Turkish Corps was defeated in Tabanovtse. Thousands of Turkish soldiers and civilians then fled by taking the trains heading towards Solun and then from there to Istanbul.





                        Албанците не го ослободија Скопје во 1912

                        Тихомир Каранфилов

                        Среда, 15 Август 2012

                        Тврдењето дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје на 12 август 1912 година претставува груба манипулација со историските факти.


                        Тврдењето дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје на 12 август 1912 година претставува груба манипулација со историските факти. Пристигањето со воз на 500 – 600 Албанци во Скопје кој тогаш бил центар на Косовскиот вилает и без борба да го освои градот кој истовремено е преполн со турски аскер во предвечерјето на Првата балканска војна преставува нон сенс. Не постои документ од странските дипломати во Скопје кои забележале било какви борби.



                        Неколку години по ред Албанците во Македонија инсистираат 12 август да се слави како ден кога нивните претци го ослободиле Скопје од Турците. Македонските Албанци без резерва го прифаќаат тврдењето на Албанската академија на науките за таканареченото ослободување на Скопје. Дури и претседателката на парламентот на Албанија Јосефина Топали го спомнува овој настан за време на посетата на својот колега Трајко Вељановски во Скопје.



                        Според Албанците, нивната историја не е фалсификувана за разлика од таа на Македонците, за која самите тврдат дека им е фалсификувана. Нивните политичари и историчари тврдат дека нивната историја е објективна и дека Албанците го ослободиле Скопје неколку пати, во 1844, 1881 и 1912 година.



                        За македонските историчари ваквите тврдења претставува стратегија која има за цел да докаже дека Скопје бил центар на албанскиот народ. Всушност треба да се докаже дека Албанците се автохтон и државотворен народ на овие простори, што пак води кон крајната цел, создавање на голема Албанија.



                        Оттука, тие ја раскажуваат својата приказна во која се вели дека „вооружени Албанци почнале да пристигнуваат во Скопје уште кон крајот на јули 1912 година. Некои пеш, други со воз, и притоа ги поминувале сите контроли на турската војска. На 1 август во градот веќе ги имало околу три илјади, Следниот ден влегле 40 арнаутски фијакери, на кои им се придружил водачот Бајрам Цури, кој наредил да се ослободат сите затвореници. Тогаш Албанците почнале да прават и полициски контроли, но во ниеден момент не се судриле со Турците. Напротив, нивниот водач Бајрам Цури бил одликуван од султанот.



                        Албанската историска приказна оди дотаму што се тврди дека околу 50.000 востаници го ослободиле Скопје, а востаниците биле прифатени и од Албанците и од Македонците. Според нив немало битки зошто тие биле дисциплинирана војска, а од 14 нивни барања од османлиската власт биле прифатени 12. Се истакнува дека на 18 август 1912 година османлиската власт и признала автономија на Албанија, потоа дека на 10 октомври во Скопје се собрале албанските водачи и донеле одлука за обединување на четири албански вилаети: Скадарски, Косовски, Битолски и Јанински, како и тоа дека Хасан Приштина сакал во Скопје а не во Валона да го развиори знамето на Скендер-бег и да биде прогласена независноста на Албанија. Меѓутоа планот отпаднал бидејќи во Скопје влегле Србите.



                        Меѓутоа за она што го тврдат албанските политичари и историчари нема факти, нема докази. Во овој период, со формирањето на балканскиот антитурски сојуз започнале интензивни подготовки за војна поддржана со широка пропагандна кампања во печатот и со организирање на провокации на Османската империја, чија цел била да се убеди меѓународното јавно мнение дека положбата во Македонија е таква што освен протерување на Турците од Македонија, ништо друго не е во состојба да ја подобри.



                        Во такви услови Отоманската империја сигурно не седела со скрстени раце, туку се подготвувала за војна и со разни дипломатски потези се обидувала да го избегне најлошото сценарио. Пред почетокот на Првата балканска војна започнала мобилизација и пренос на трупи и воен материјал кон српската граница. Железниците биле прво делумно, а потоа и целосно милитаризирани. Турските трупи од Вардарскиот армиски корпус или познатата Западна армија на Али Риза-паша од Анадолија биле превезувани со Тракиската железница до Солун, а потоа со Македонската железница на запад до Битола, Западна македонија и Албанија и на север кон Скопје, Куманово до Зибевче – српска граница.



                        Во едни такви услови таканаречените албански востаници неможеле непречено со воз да дојдат во Скопје а да не бидат пропуштени со причина од турската армија.

                        При толкава концентрација на турски аскер опремен со најмодерна воена опрема на тоа време тешко било дека некој можел да им се закани, а најмалку албанските бунтовници.



                        Одликувањето на Бајрам Цури укажува дека нивното присуство нема за цел ослободување на градот туку тоа е дел од успешните преговори со османлиската власт, без разлика дали тоа се политички прашања, барање албанскиот народ да биде отповикан од регрутација, да се избегне водење војна на територија каде има албански народ или пак се работи за обичен шверц со оружје.



                        Во секој случај, сето ова наведува дека во овие преговори Албанците сакале да извлечат одредени концесии кај турските власти, а за возврат нудат мирољубивост и останување по страна. Всушност тие прифаќаат да не се приклучат на балканските сојузници во престојната борба.



                        Давајќи беса дека албанскиот народ нема да се бори против своите муслимански браќа, тие добиле како награда од Турците ослободување на затворените Албанци, одликување на Бајрам Цури, по што натоварени со паричен надоместок се вратиле во своите домови.



                        Македонските историчари тврдат дека нема факти и историски докази дека Скопје бил ослободено од Албанците. Исто така, тие тврдат дека не постои никаков доказ дека Албанците во Скопје формирале своја власт или било какви елементи на државност. Не е ниту формирана некаква градска управа или собрание на градот. Едноставно турската војска сама се повлекува по битката кај Куманово која се одиграла на 23 и 24 октомври 1912 година. Паниката кај турската војска и кај муслиманското население во Скопје, Куманово и Велес посебно се зголемила по поразот на турскиот корпус на Фети паша кај Табановце. Илјадници турски војници и цивилно население со возови бегале према Солун, а потоа према Истанбул.
                        "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                        GOTSE DELCEV

                        Comment

                        • George S.
                          Senior Member
                          • Aug 2009
                          • 10116

                          Karadzich prays to God and to Papoulias



                          By Ivana Kostovska

                          Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

                          August 29, 2012



                          Radovan Karadzhich, in The Hague, must surely remember the speech he gave in Greece in 1993. That speech, now located somewhere in the archives, is a testament to the Greek involvement in the Bosnian War. “Everyone was telling us to lower our weapons because we were alone. But we said no. We are not alone! We have God and the Greeks on our side,” said Karadzhich, the then Bosnian Serb leader.



                          The Greek establishment, on the other hand, now wants to wipe out all evidence, photos and videos of when Karadzhich was welcomed to Greece as a hero, with the highest civil ceremonies that the state could dispense, unknown to many that the businessmen and owners of the Greek media were involved in financing the Serbian troops in Bosnia. This was done with the Greek state’s full support and any journalist who tried to expose this unholy alliance between Greece and Milosevic’s Serbia were prosecuted.



                          It is a legitimate question to ask whether the spiritual doctor Dragan Dabich (hiding behind the identity Karadzhich) would have succeeded, for example, without the necessary documents to circumvent the strict rules and regulations of the Greek neo-Nazis from Golden Dawn and to receive food parcels from Syntagma Square. Golden Dawn veto’s all non-Greeks all the time but maybe sometimes for this drunk hero, when he was still free, they made an exception. Members of the Golden Dawn party, who today are in the Greek Parliament, fought in Srebrenica in the unit Garda as Greek volunteers and were decorated by Karadzhich himself long before the world discovered the doctor in whose soul was hiding the paramilitary leader.



                          Even here at The Hague, Karadzhich still believes that only God and Greek President Karolos Papoulias can be of assistance to him. Through many letters, Karadzhich has asked Papoulias to appear as his witness at The Hague, he says that there is good reason to believe that the Greek President has information that can be a lot of help to him. The doctor turned paramilitary, who at the tribunal had to renounce his false identity and face justice, believes in the healing power of Papoulias who, as the then foreign minister, was among the few interlocutors who the Bosnian Serbs trusted and with whom they spoke confidentially and honestly. But in vain!



                          The letters that Karadzhich sent to Papoulias were treated worse than those sent to him by Giorge Ivanov. Papoulias, head of the Greek state, ignored Karadzhich’s letters and would not reply to them. Karadzhich, so far, has not officially asked the International Court of Justice to order Papoulias to appear as his witness. It appears that The Hague will not allow questions to be raised regarding the Greek participation in the Bosnian War; Greek soldiers participating in the paramilitary forces, Greek military and financial aid, violations of the United Nations embargo or other such possible crimes! For as long as Greek Parliamentarians are silent on these issues and regardless of calls for an investigation, not a word about this is said in The Hague. It has been seven years since 163 Greek academics, journalists and political activists called on Greece to officially apologize to the victims of the Srebrenica massacre regarding the Greek role in that war.



                          Remember that the Greek public was misinformed about the Greek-Milosevic-Serbian alliance. Statements made by the academics, journalists and political activists are calls for apologies to the Bosnian families because of the Greek volunteer participation in the war where Greeks soldiers fought in Bosnia, shoulder to shoulder alongside Karadzich and Mladich. There are also calls for prosecuting the apparently “unknown” people who were involved in this war. However, we will never know who they are unless Papoulias, the current Greek President, testifies at The Hague!



                          These dilemmas are reason enough for Papoulias to ignore and avoid contact with the war criminal Karadzhich and without raising too much attention and too much dust in the public arena. These dilemmas are also a good reason for Papoulias to NOT want to hear about the strong religious and historical ties between the Greeks and the Serbs, about which Karazdich constantly writes to remind him. By the will of truth, however, it will not be so easy for the Greek president to simply cut his ties to the Golden Dawn legacy. Every salute to the neo-Nazis, as history has shown, is a dangerous play.



                          In one of the commentaries made by the Greek newspaper “Kathimerini”, where criticisms are made about the hypocrisy of “altruism” of Golden Dawn, the words of the poet Zakynthos Dionisios Solomos, the man who wrote the Greek national anthem, ring true: “The nation must learn to respect that which is truly national.”





                          Kараџиќ им се моли на Господ и на Папулјас



                          Радован Kараџиќ во Хаг веројатно се присети на својот говор во Грција во 1993 година, кој остана во архивите како сведоштво за грчката улога во војната во Босна. Сите ни велат да го спуштиме оружјето затоа што сме сами. Но, ние велиме не. Не сме сами! Ние ги имаме Господ и Грците на наша страна, говореше тогаш лидерот на босанските Срби.



                          За разлика од него, грчкиот естаблишмент посакува да се избришат сите фотографии и снимки од времето кога Kараџиќ беше пречекуван како херој, со највисоки државни церемонии, да не се знаеше дека бизнисмените и сопствениците на медиуми во Грција биле вклучени во финансирање на српските војници во Босна. Со целосна поддршка на грчката држава им се судеше на новинари што пишуваа за несветиот сојуз меѓу Грција и Србија на Милошевиќ.



                          Легитимно е да се постави прашањето дали спиритуалниот доктор Драган Дабиќ (идентитетот зад кој се криеше Kараџиќ) би успеал, на пример, без потребните документи да ги заобиколи строгите правила и прописи на грчките неонацисти од Златна зора и да добие пакети со храна на плоштадот Синтагма. Златна зора им става вето на сите што не се Грци, но можеби некогаш опеаниот херој, кога би бил с` уште на слобода, би бил исклучок. Бидејќи членовите на истата партија, која денеска е во грчкиот парламент, се бореа во Сребреница во единицата Гарда на грчки доброволци и беа одликувани од Kараџиќ одамна пред светот да го открие квантниот исцелител кој се криел во душата на паравоениот водач.



                          Оттука и Kараџиќ верува дека само Господ и грчкиот претседател Kаролос Папулјас може да му бидат од помош во Хашкиот трибунал. Во писмото преку кое бара Папулјас да се појави како негов сведок во Хаг, тој вели дека има оправдани причини да верува оти грчкиот претседател располага со информации кои може многу да помогнат. Kвантниот исцелител кој во трибуналот мораше да го отфрли својот лажен идентитет и да се соочи со правдата, верува во исцелителната моќ на Папулјас, кој како министер за надворешни работи бил меѓу ретките соговорници на кои босанските Срби им верувале и со кои разговарале доверливо и искрено. Но, залудно.



                          Писмата од Kараџиќ што пристигнувале до неговиот кабинет, Папулјас ги третирал полошо од тие кои ги добива од Ѓорге Иванов. Шефот на грчката држава не испраќал никаков одговор с` додека Kараџиќ и официјално не побарал од Меѓународниот суд на правдата да му нареди на Папулјас да се појави како сведок. Не ќе се дозволи во Хаг да се отворат прашањата за учеството на грчките војници во паравоените сили или за грчката воена и финансиска помош, прекршувањето на ембаргото од Обединетите нации или можните злосторства! Штом за овие теми досега се молчеше во грчкиот парламент и покрај тоа што се најавуваше истрага, во Хаг не смее да се каже ниту збор. Поминаа седум години откако 163 грчки академици, новинари и политички активисти побараа Грција официјално да им се извини на жртвите од Сребреница за грчката улога во масакрот.



                          Потсетувајќи дека јавноста во Грција била дезинформирана за сојузништвото со режимот на Милошевиќ, преку изјавата се повикува на извинување кон семејствата поради грчките волонтери што се бореа во Босна, рамо до рамо со Kараџиќ и Младиќ. Се бараше и да се гонат наводно непознатите луѓе што ги манипулирале. Ќе се откријат ли нивните имиња ако грчкиот претседател сведочи во Хаг?



                          Овие дилеми се причина Папулјас без кревање прав во јавноста да го отфрли барањето на воениот злосторник. Не сака ниту да слушне за силните религиозни и историски врски меѓу Грците и Србите, за кои му пишува Kараџиќ. За волја на вистината, на грчкиот претседател нема да му биде едноставно да ги пресече ваквите врски со оставина како Златна зора. Секое салутирање на неонацистите, како да говори дека историјата е опасна играчка.



                          Во еден од коментарите во грчкиот весник „Kатимерини“, каде што се критикува хипокризијата на „алтруизмот“ на Златна зора, со право се потсетува на зборовите на поетот од Закинтос, Дионисиос Соломос, кој ја напишал грчката химна: Нацијата мора да научи да го смета за национално она што е вистинито.
                          "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                          GOTSE DELCEV

                          Comment

                          • George S.
                            Senior Member
                            • Aug 2009
                            • 10116

                            When the time comes will we be ready?



                            By Risto Stefov

                            [email protected]

                            September 3, 2012



                            Some time ago the European Union asked Greece to set up a budget and start putting some money aside to settle the land settlement deals with its exiled citizens whose properties the Greek state had confiscated in the past, this includes the properties of the Macedonian people exiled over the years. This is a hint that “something” is going to happen in the future. But what? And will it depend on us?



                            Alongside that, Greece has also been pressured to “take care” of its minority issues, including the Macedonians living in Greece. But are the Macedonians really a minority? Who decides this and how is this decided? One, Greece has never taken a “free” census. And I call it free because the Greek state discourages people from declaring themselves anything other than “Greek”. Two, Greece has never identified exactly what “Greek” means and what the breakdown of the various indigenous ethnicities living in Greece is, i.e. Albanian, Vlach, Macedonian, etc. and what the ethnic breakdown of the imported settlers is; you know the ones from the Pontus and Asia Minor. Let’s face it, not everyone in Greece is Greek; if everyone is Greek like the Greek state claims, then no one in Greece is Greek. So, until all the people living in Greece are accounted for and identified by their ethnicity no one can say with certainty if the Macedonians are a “minority” or “majority” on their own native soil.



                            Outside of that, Macedonia never belonged to Greece; it was taken from the Macedonian people by force during the 1912, 1913 Balkan Wars. Only ten years before, in 1903, the Macedonian people made a bid to drive the Ottomans out and form their own free and independent Macedonian state. This was an indication that Macedonians existed but were ignored by all. Unfortunately they failed in their attempt to liberate themselves, but that does not mean that they gave up and willingly handed their homeland over to Greece, Serbia and Bulgaria. Quite the opposite! When Macedonia was being divided by the 1913 Treaty of Bucharest, the Macedonian people made many attempts to enter the negotiations but they were not allowed because they did not belong to a state and only states were allowed at the negotiating table. Thus the Macedonians were not only NOT consulted, but they were completely ignored when their country was occupied and taken over by Greece, Serbia and Bulgaria. All letters, appeals and pleas sent to the people brokering the Treaty, by various Macedonian organizations, were also ignored. Thus the Macedonian people’s wishes were ignored and never taken into consideration as their lands, homes and homeland were snatched by force from under them. And this was definitely illegal!



                            Greece, therefore, occupied Macedonia without the consent of the Macedonian people and this occupation, by any kind of law, is illegal and Greece, sooner or later will HAVE to return those lands back to the Macedonian people; but only if challenged. The only way Greece can retain Macedonian lands, including the part of Macedonia it illegally occupied, is if there is NO ONE to contest and challenge the occupation. You can see why Greece is hanging on to the notion that “Macedonians don’t exist”. If Greece recognizes that Macedonians DO exist then it will have to give the Macedonia it took illegally from them back to them. But despite Greece’s “wishful thinking” that “Macedonians don’t exist”, Macedonians do exist and are beginning to challenge Greece’s claims to Macedonia. European and World diplomacy can see that, that is why they are urging Greece to set some money aside and settle this. But all Greece has done is use that money to “destroy” the Macedonian identity, at any cost, to prevent it from challenging its claims to Macedonia!



                            The day when Greece is pushed to accept its misdeeds and settle its scores is coming. But the question that I have is, “Will we be ready to negotiate a fair settlement with Greece?” This will be a permanent and lasting agreement and it will involve “Macedonians”. But who will be there to represent us? Will we take the first thing Greece offers and run with it? Remember this and remember it very well! Unlike in 1913 when NO Macedonians were invited to sit at the negotiating table when Macedonia was partitioned, this time they will be inviting Macedonians and those Macedonians will be signing an “iron clad” Treaty from which not even the devil can escape. This will be “IT” for Macedonia and for the Macedonians people! So again I ask, “Who will represent us at this Treaty?” Will we be ready for it or will we have a “great big squabble” as usual and “give up” and again let our enemies take control like they did oh so many times in the past?



                            Will we happily accept “minority” status in our own homeland and naively walk away happy? Or will we fight for “everything” that is ours. It all depends on who represents us at the negotiating table, us or our “turn coats”!



                            Here is a question for you. Why are we calling the Macedonians in Greece a “minority”? How do we know that they are a “minority”? Who says that they are a minority? And most importantly, are we going to allow those who call us a “minority” speak for us?



                            Let me tell you something very important that you may or may not know. While we sit here contemplating what is going to happen tomorrow. Our enemies know that their first line of defense will soon be breached. This means that the Macedonians will be recognized as a separate and distinct identity. This undoubtedly also means that Greece WILL have to accept our existence and deal with it. That is why our enemies (Greeks, Bulgarians, Albanians and others) are reinforcing their “second line” of defense, i.e. to give us as little as possible; nothing if possible. At the same time let me remind you that THIS will be the FINAL solution to the Macedonian question. So, after all is said and done and all the papers are signed will we come out with a United, Free and Independent Macedonia or will we let our enemies push us around and our turn coats speak for us and settle for just “minority” status on our own ancestral lands that were taken away from us illegally and by force in 1913? Which will it be?



                            Again, it depends on who represents and negotiates for us; us or our turn coats?!
                            "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                            GOTSE DELCEV

                            Comment

                            • George S.
                              Senior Member
                              • Aug 2009
                              • 10116

                              On the Road of Time – Chapter 10



                              By Petre Nakovski

                              Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

                              [email protected]

                              September 2, 2012



                              We had our SAHO washed and cleaned and were ready to head back. On our way we patiently waited awhile, so to speak, to merge into the express highway linking Albania to Greece. The highway was packed with a chain of traffic, mostly heavy trucks and tractor trailers with Albanian licence plates from Elbasan, Tirana, Durress, Fier and Flora. Some crossed the Greek border empty, others coming back carried construction material, bricks and tiles and headed west to Bilishcha (Bilisht), whose name is written on a blue sign with large capital letters. I quickly merged into a gap between two large trucks and kept up the pace. There was an exit at the entrance to Bilishcha. On the left there were instructions for heavy trucks. On the right there were instructions for passenger cars and a wide sidewalk for pedestrians. I took the exit.



                              We drove into the city on the main street which was covered in shade. Almost the entire street was shaded by wild chestnut and linden trees. The trees were in bloom and the aroma from their yellow flowers was intoxicating. We looked for a place to park but all the parking spaces were taken. There were vans, Mercedes and all kinds of vehicles with Greek license plates. Here they called the owners of Greek cars “Giorgos”. So while looking for a parking space I went past the city limits and then I saw a sign for “Korcha”.



                              To the left of the road there was a beautiful, big gas station with an empty parking lot large enough to park dozens of cars and trucks. Inside there was a restaurant, a café, a car part store and a grocery store with all kinds of food items. The place was clean and tidy and the employees we neatly dressed and full of smiles. As I struck up a conversation I could see that these people had no problem looking directly into my eyes. They also spoke English, Italian, Macedonian and Greek. There was not even fifteen kilometres distance between here and Trstenik (Trestenik) but there was decades of difference in the conduct of these people compared to those in Trstenik; if such a difference can be measured in time.


                              A middle aged man dressed in a company uniform came out of the building and approached us. We greeted each other with the customary “mir dita”, which in Albanian means “good day” and from what he was saying in Albanian I gathered that he was asking us something.



                              “We are looking for the road to Vrbnik,” I said to him in Macedonian.



                              “Oh, you are Macedonians? From Macedonia? It is rare for us to receive guests from Macedonia,” he said, “how can I help you?”



                              We again greeted each other “mir dita, si shkoine, mir,” shook hands and were invited for coffee.



                              “Falaminderit,” I said to him, which means ‘thank you’ in Albanian and again I was not sure if I had said it correctly, so I put my right hand to my heart, a sign for thank you, and again said that we were looking for the road to Vrbnik.



                              “To Vrbnik?” he asked and thought for a moment. “Ah, I know but it is not called Vrbnik, it is now called Vrnik,” he said, “you need to return to the city and when you arrive at the centre you will see a bank. After you pass the bank turn left and drive uphill to the first corner. At the corner turn right and then left and then drive straight to where a new house is being built. From there drive straight until you pass all the houses. There turn left and that road will take you directly to Vrnik. That is the only road that goes to Vrnik. You can’t go wrong. He wished us a good trip and all the best from him and his company.

                              We thanked the man with the kindest of words and left. We then took the road towards Bilishcha’s city centre and drove slowly, looking at the newly constructed residential buildings and at the one and two storey houses constructed with colourful facades. We looked at the small shops, restaurants, cafés, bars and tea houses. When we arrived at the city square I immediately turned left, drove uphill, turned right, right again and then left and taking the wide road we arrived at Vrbnik now called Vrnik.



                              Vrbnik is a Macedonian village. It lies in a slightly flat valley overlooking the south. All around it are bare hills laden with grey rubble. The houses are low, old, built with stone and covered with stone slabs and old ceramic tiles. The yards are fenced with walls of medium height constructed from stone and every terrace has a well and many vines.



                              The cobblestone lanes are narrow but kept clean and in good repair. Before the village entrance on the left, above the old road, was an Orthodox Church, built with chiselled stone, half-buried underground. The church bell rarely tolled these days because the worshippers were not there any more; they were gone, dispersed all around the world.



                              Beyond the hill was the village cemetery where many pechalbari (migrant workers) were laid to rest. They found peace here. They came here from America, Australia, Canada and some European countries. It was their last wish; to be brought here to be laid to rest on their own land and under their own sky. They returned from overseas and as their pictures attest, they were well dressed, smiling with faces full of joy. They looked content and satisfied dressed in their city clothing.



                              In contrast to the pechalbari were the other villagers who lived here all their lives, who dressed mostly in peasant clothing and who looked sad with deep concern painted on their faces. Their gloomy look and sad eyes left us with the impression that they were waiting for someone or for something...



                              In the cemeteries, their Macedonian names and surnames are inscribed on white marble slabs and crosses, written mostly in Cyrillic letters with a few written in Latin letters…



                              There is a long two storey building in the upper part of the village. This used to be a school. Now it is a decrepit old building with broken windows and a gaping hole where the front door used to be. In bygone days more than two hundred students attended primary school here where they were taught subjects in both the Macedonian and Albanian language. After that the students were sent to the middle and high schools in Korcha, Elbasan and Tirana. Of the children that attended this school, thirty became teachers, ten became doctors and one became a lawyer and in time was promoted to public prosecutor in Albania. The people of Vrbnik were very proud of them.



                              The people were also proud of the memories left behind by the village cultural arts group which undertook numerous performances throughout Albania, participating in various festivals all over the country and spreading Macedonian culture in the form of song and dance. It too is gone. Left there now are the sad memories and the sighs of older people who do remember...



                              “Enver Hoxha, regardless of who he was, a dictator or a mad man, did not prohibit us from practicing our religion, from speaking and writing in our own language, or from singing Macedonian songs and dancing Macedonian dances. But now these new people who call themselves democratic and Europeans, after taking over, have forgotten the Macedonians…” complained an old-timer from Vrbnik who now lives in Korcha.



                              Here too, as in Kapeshtitsa and Trstenik, it seemed like time had stood still but the difference here was that we were greeted very warmly and generously by the people. The first person we encountered was a woman dressed in black. We could see in her eyes that she was grief stricken and her face looked like it was covered in pain. She was mourning, we gathered. A close one must have passed on.



                              A wooden gate was flung open and, gesturing with both hands, the woman invited us inside. We offered our hand and expressed our sympathy for the soul of her son when we found out that he had died in America. In her son’s honour she offered us rakia (homemade whiskey), lokum (Turkish delight) and cold water from the well. She then took out an album and showed us black and white photographs taken before the wars and colour photographs taken after the wars and during the rebellion against the Enver Hoxha regime. She showed us photographs taken in Vrbnik and in America of her son, daughter-in-law, grandchildren and close and distant relatives. She has been, she said, to Italy, Greece and Macedonia. She had photographs of all her close relatives, photographs taken from the places where they had been in pechalba (migrant work). As we could see from the photographs, those abroad were dressed in the type and style of clothing of the country they were in. Those photographs taken here in Vrbnik showed the people wearing homemade clothing.



                              The village, said the woman, is almost empty now. The men are gone to pechalba, the local school is closed and the children are bussed daily to a school in Bilishcha. The church bell rarely tolls these days because most of the time the church is closed. There were days, she said, when a priest came from Macedonia to conduct prayer in the Macedonian language. Now we rarely get a priest and when we do, prayer is conducted in Greek or in Albanian. She begged us to tell the church authorities in Skopje to send them a Macedonian priest to conduct prayer in Macedonian. She promised the priest would be well looked after by the Vrbnik Macedonian community. The woman spoke in the Kostur Region Macedonian dialect and in that dialect we conducted our conversation.



                              We heard a noise outside in the yard, it was a car. The woman looked outside the window and said: “It’s my son, my youngest son. He lives in Bilishcha where he owns and operates a restaurant located on the main street. He came here to bring medicine for his father who is resting in the room next door. He had an operation in Tirana a while ago and needs medicine.”



                              A few moments later we went outside to meet a man who looked like he was in his forties. He had a peaceful look about him and a wide smile on his face. He greeted us as if he had known us for a long time and asked many questions, especially about the “name.”



                              “And what do you say, what are we going to do with the name? Are you going to give it up?” he asked.



                              “And you?” I asked.



                              “No, we are not giving it up. A name cannot be given up. And you must not give it up either! Do we understand one another?” he asked with reproach in his voice. “Forgive me,” he then said, “I need to go back to the restaurant, all my tables are reserved and I need to tend to my customers. Please come and visit us, I will find a table for you. I will be expecting you…”



                              “We will come,” I said, “but another time.”



                              “We will be expecting you but please call ahead,” he said and quickly left for Bilishcha. His mother watched him until he disappeared driving past the corner.



                              “Let’s go back inside,” she said and walked in front of us.



                              “On which side are the villages Vmbel and Smrdesh?” I asked before she entered the house, knowing that those two villages are close to Vrbnik and that many of their residents are related to the people of Vrbnik.



                              “Over there…” she said quietly pointing to the east with her hand.



                              I sensed distress and pain in her voice as she took a deep breath.



                              “Over there…” she repeated and again pointed at the treeless hill, “there behind the hill, but there is nothing left of the villages now… not of Vmbel and not of Smrdesh… the people of those villages are also gone…” she said in a sad, quiet voice. A moment later she said, “They are gone…” and waved her hand in front of her face as if trying to swat something ugly and evil.



                              The hill she pointed at was facing the sun and was overgrown with green grass. Above it we could see gray ripples of heat waves rising. The woman looked up and while pointing at the hill with her hand, quietly said:



                              “I can remember it like it was yesterday, the multitude of people and animals descending. Aged men and woman, elderly, infants… the place was packed with people, with our people. The next day Partisans and Albanian officers came and disarmed those with weapons. There were also many wounded being carried on stretchers and in blankets. They were taken and housed in the school. And what did we do? The village council ordered us to help them. Unfortunately all we could do was give them food and water, we could not find the words to console them and to relieve them of their suffering. Did they stay here long? No. The Partisans collected them during the night and I don’t know where they took them. The next day, loaded with everything they had brought from home, driving their animals in front of them, oxen, sheep, goats… they all left on foot… Where did they go? They went down the hill towards Bilishcha…”



                              The woman seemed to have lost her voice. She waved her hand in front of her eyes and after a long moment of silence, whispered: “A great tragedy… it was terrible what happened to those people…”



                              An hour and a half later we left Vrbnik. As we drove past the first corner outside of the village we were cut off by a van. The driver of the van came out and ran towards us, followed by a number of children, two women and three young men.



                              “Welcome, countryman,” shouted the driver. “I can see from your car’s licence plate that you are from Skopje, right?”


                              But before I had a chance to answer, I found myself in his embrace. He gave me kisses on the cheeks, forehead and eyes. He then passed me on to the women and went to greet my wife. They too gave us hugs and kisses. Very happy to have made our acquaintance, the driver then turned to the children and yelled out: “What are you waiting for?! Greet our guests. They are our people. Can’t you see they are from Macedonia?”



                              The children approached us shyly, gave us their hands, smiled and extended their cheeks for a kiss.



                              “We are returning to the village from Bilishcha,” said the driver. “Every morning I take the children there to attend school. Albanian. We have a school in the village but we have no teacher. There are not enough children to secure a teacher. The people have left for the cities. Almost all are in pechalba now. The village is falling apart, my brother… So, you were at the village. Who are your relatives?”



                              “Everyone…” I said.



                              The man stood there for a moment with his mouth and eyes wide open. Then after recovering from the surprise, he hit me hard on the shoulder and said:



                              “That’s right, brother. Now I remember. We are all relatives. Now turn around and let’s go to the village. Come to my home. We will eat and drink what God gave us, we will talk and tomorrow, God willing, we will each go our way. Come, turn the car around and drive… and you, all of you, back in the van,” he ordered the children.



                              “Brother, thank you, but another time. We will be back here very soon…” I said.



                              “What? You are not coming?” asked the man in a disappointed tone of voice.



                              “We will come; we will come for sure next year…” I replied.



                              “Please do come. Our door is always open. And by next year the road will be paved with asphalt. The bulldozers began to work the other day. By then even the old name of our village will be returned to us. We call it Vrnik now but its old name was Vrbnik. We were promised this by the government... Can I ask you something? What will you do with the name? Are you going to give it up?” the man asked.



                              “Are you going to give it up?” I asked.



                              “Never!” he said. “We will never give up our Macedonian name! What is ours will remain ours. That’s the way it is… end of discussion!”



                              We said our goodbye’s and left. The day was coming to a close as the sky over Morava Mountain was burning purple…



                              Far from here, over the mountain ridge as the sun descended behind the mountain the entire Devolsko valley began to change colour...
                              "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                              GOTSE DELCEV

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                              • George S.
                                Senior Member
                                • Aug 2009
                                • 10116

                                AUSTRALIAN MACEDONIAN KARATE KID - PECE NAUMOVSKI

                                M.A. ICO NAJDOVSKI – PERIN



                                In July 2011, Pece Naumoski, also known as the Macedonian Karate Kid, arrived in Athens, the capital of Greece, strongly motivated to participate in the World Youth Championship assured that he would continue to have the kind of successes and victories characteristic of his past.


                                Pece loves to win. He wants to be in first place. And then he wants to celebrate his success. Best of all he wants to celebrate it with the Macedonian sixteen ray flag. After all it is the national symbol of Macedonia, his first homeland, located just above the north of Greece, in the southern part of the European continent.


                                Pece was initially accepted, warmly greeted and admired by the organizers and by his peers in Athens, as a member of the Australian national team. Members of the karate team from Greece, hosting the event, accompanied Pece and on many occasions quoted some of their more “famous” phrases like “Greece is the cradle of democracy!?”


                                Pece was then transferred to a higher category

                                However, when the Greeks found out that Pece was of Macedonian descent, things began to change. The athletes from Greece no longer associated with him. They all disappeared. Obviously they did this under duress from their organizers and coaches who like to mix sports with politics. In other words Athens used the opportunity to get back at Macedonia. Greece has a problem with the Republic of Macedonia using the word “Macedonia” in its name, a nightmarish scandal for the Macedonian people not yet fully understood by the rest of the world. Imagine a neighbour forcing another neighbour to abandon his rightful name and bullying him into what to call and not call himself. It is absurd, shameful and damaging to relationships especially when sports are used to play political games. Politics don’t belong in sports especially when younger generations are involved.



                                “Greeks are like waves,” says Naumovski “First they climb up high then immediately drop down low!”

                                Pece was scandalously set up by the Greeks. Set up so that Pece and only Pece would not win a medal. The Greek organizers rearranged the ranking so that instead of Pece being placed in a 52 kilogram group of competitors, where he belonged according to his ranking, in line with all karate norms and standards, Naumovski, without being consulted, was shifted to compete at a higher level, in the 57 kilogram group, where he was automatically handicapped.


                                With that the Greeks drowned Pece’s chances for new triumphs. Placed in this category by the organizers, Pece lost to the German representative in the semifinals. He truly tried hard but in the end Pece finished fourth in the karate World Youth Championship in Athens.


                                Let it be known and let it be written that Pece was robbed of his chances of winning a medal with a kind of shameful and outrageous play at the International level under well established norms. Nevertheless, it took a real fighter to come fourth in such a tough competition. What must be recognized here is Pece’s great success and valour. He must be recognized for his outstanding effort, training, strong will and for having to fight the injustices in the Hellenic territory.





                                AUSTRALIAN MACEDONIAN KARATE KID - PECE NAUMOVSKI



                                M.A. ICO NAJDOVSKI - PERIN



                                Брука во Атина - Грците му подметнаа на Пеце



                                Во Атина, во престолнината на Грција, Пеце Наумовски во месец јули 2011 допатува на Светското младинско првенство, силно мотивиран да ги продолжи успесите и победите кои го красат неговиот лик и му ја збогатуваат спортската биографија.



                                Сака победа. Сака да освои едно од првите места. И потоа да прослави. Но, да прослави и со македонското знаме со шеснаесетзрачното сонце. Бидејки е тоа национален симбол на неговата прва татковина Македонија, која инаку е распослана погоре на север од Грција, во јужните делови на европскиот континент.



                                Како член на австралиската национална репрезентација, Пеце отпрво во Атина беше приман, уважуван и срдечно дочекуван од организаторите и врсниците. Со него се дружеа каратисти од земјата домаќин, која милува да каже позната фраза, дека тие биле колевка на демократијата !?



                                Префрлен во друга категорија



                                Меѓутоа, само што се дозна дека е Пеце со македонско потекло, одма се сменија работите. Повеќе ги немаше нивните спортисти да се дружат со него. Исчезнаа. Веројатно тоа го сторија под диригентската палка на некои наредбодавци кои спортот го измешаа со политиката. Бидејки Атина форсира проблем оспорувајки и го името на Република Македонија, што е кошмарен скандал и непознат пример досега во светот. Комшија на комшија да му се меша како ќе се вика. Апсурдно, срамно и штетно е кога политиката става рака и таму каде што најмалку треба, инволвирајќи ги дури и раномладешките генерации.



                                ,,Грците се како брановите,, рече Наумовски. ,,Еднаш се искачуваат високо нагоре, за веднаш потоа да се симнуваат како осеката на далгите. Да понираат надолу” !



                                Скандалозно беше грчкото класично подметнување. Само и само Пеце да не освои медал. Го направија тоа своевидно елиминационо рангирање така, што, наместо да биде ставен во групата натпреварувачи до 52 килограми, каде што и објективно припаѓа според пропозициите, и колку што треба според сите норми и стандарди во каратето, Наумовски без никаков аргумент го префрлија да се натпреварува во погорната, во таа до 57 килограми, што е и автоматски хендикеп.



                                Со тоа грците му ги потопија шансите за нови триумфи. Во таквата категорија со помош на диверзијата на организаторите, тој во полуфиналето загуби од германскиот претставник. Навистина стори се. Вложи максимум, но, сепак на крајот го освои четвртото место во Атина на светското одмерување на силите на младите каратисти.



                                Нека се знае и нека остане запишано дека со срамното изигрување на мегународните и општо познати норми, му беше направена елиминација од можно освојување на медал. И покрај се, го зазеде високото четврто место. Што мора да се признае е голем успех и валоризација на исклучителните напори, тренинзите, силната волја и борбата со неправдите на елинска територија.
                                "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                                GOTSE DELCEV

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