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Chiche if there were some sort of protest where we gathered thousands of us to do that then I would defiantly be in. and maby when the world sees us and can see the truth they would return our rightful land to!Leave a comment:
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Well, I do think that reason is not good enough, Sorry to say. Imagine if all Macedonians in Australia, USA and Canada reverted to their Rightful Names and booked to visit Greece, would they restrict or deny entry to the thousands of Macedonians at her door step. Also how would they know we are Macedonian, our passports say Australia, USA or Canada. No more excuses Macedonians, revert to you RIGHTFUL NAMES!!!!!Leave a comment:
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One reason a lot of people in Australia do not change there names back if because when we go back we get hassled my dad went back even with his Grk last name they kept him at Athens airport and made him have a hard time to explain what he is doing there and checking his luggage just giving him a really hard time because we are from Lerin I have herd many stories vary similar and even worse, me myself I would love to one day change my name to our real name but just so long as I know I can go back to Lerin and Solun see my family and not get knocked back at the border, this year when I went with my partner who is born in The Republic of Macedonia we entered through the Macedonian grk border and had no problems actually when we got to the grk border and I had to show out passports officer man asked in grk something then in English I replied sorry don’t understand, then he asked me were are yours going and I said Florina and he replied in Macedonian, imash familija ou Lerin then I explained were we from and he was very friendly and wished us a safe stay, but then it makes me think what if we didn’t get a nice officer I have herd some very bad stories about the border.Leave a comment:
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How sad, our people in Greece are fighting to revert to their original names, yet in Australia it is very easy to change, but very few have done it. Why do you think this is so????Leave a comment:
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Battle in Greece over old family surnames
Battle in Greece over old family surnames
Athens erasing Macedonians from Turkish documents
By Hristo Ivanovski
Translated and edited by Risto Stefov
November 27, 2012
His name is Pavle Filipov, however for the Greek state he is Pavlos Voskopoulos. Petse Benishev is Petros Vasiliadis. Krste Ashlakov has documents from the Greek State that show him to be Kostas Stavros Anastisaidis. The family roots of hundreds of thousands of Macedonians in Greece have been erased by the Greek State. Every Macedonian’s first and last name has been replaced with a Greek sounding name ending mostly in “os”, “is” “poulos” etc.
Six years ago four Macedonians started a court case for the reinstatement of their first and last names. They wanted their surnames back, which had been with their family from time immemorial. Even though every person has the legal right to have his or her name changed, in this case returned to the old name, these people are still experiencing problems. It seems like these four individuals and members of the Macedonian nation are leading a Don Quixote battle with Athens. The six persons are telling us that they have started this process in order to bring awareness to the problems Macedonians still experience in Greece to this day. This is a test of the democratic rights about which Greece boasts. Greece claims that it is a well-developed democracy where each Greek citizen can realize their individual rights without problems.
“Under the Greek law for changing surnames, everyone has the moral right to choose their own surname. When a woman gets married, for example, she has the legal right to change her surname or stay with her maiden name. For us, however, the Ministry of the Interior knows that we belong to the Macedonian nation and if they allow us to change our surnames they are afraid that they will receive a flood of similar requests. If this happens it will have a great impact on the “Greek-ness” of Greece!” says Pavle Filipov who has been waiting to hear from the courts for the last six years.
According to Mr. Filipov, Greek institutions deliberately delay the application process in hopes that the applicants will get tired and abandon their expensive and costly request. For example, Mr. Filipov paid 1,700 Euros for taxis alone while submitting his application before the Supreme Court.
“This is cheating democracy. Fortunately Europe and the world are now realizing that Greece is a black sheep. Greece says one thing in Brussels and does quite another at home. But when the European troika came to Greece because of the economic crisis, it discovered that Greece has been spreading a lot of lies!” said Mr. Filipov.
Petse Benishev (52) is from the village Vrbeni, Lerin Region. Mr. Benishev said that he had a court hearing date on November 13th this year but then he was advised that the hearing was postponed indefinitely.
“I do not know why my hearing was delayed and I don’t know when it will be rescheduled again,” said Mr. Benishev.
Mr. Filipov who is also a leading Macedonian and representative of the “Rainbow” Party, says he carries the surname “Filipov” because it belonged to his great grandfather Filip.
“I want my surname restored because I want to honour my great grandfather and keep his memory alive, it is a respectable thing to do and my moral right to do so. The court unfortunately is stalling and claiming that such a surname does not exist. My great grandfather’s name was Kocho Filipov; he was born in 1891 when Macedonia was a province of the Ottoman Empire. From that the Greeks came up with the fictional name Kostas Voskopoulos after Macedonia was annexed by Greece in 1913. Soon after that the Greeks changed all the Macedonian people’s names; living and dead. During Ottoman times there were no surnames ending with “os”, “is” “poulos” etc. This means that the Greeks had to forge documents and certificates issued before 1912, which is a sad shame!” said Mr. Filipov.
Mr. Benishev has a similar family story. His family name was changed by the Greeks in 1936 from Benishev to Vasiliadis.
“I am a Macedonian in my heart and I want to restore my old Macedonian surname. It is my right by law!” said Mr. Benishev.
They all said that they will continue their struggle for their rights at the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg. In the meantime they are exhausting all legal avenues inside Greece before they proceed with their application in Strasburg.
According to a human rights specialist however, one can apply to the Strasbourg Court if the process is not completed in the Greek courts within three years. So the requirement to apply to the Strasbourg Court has already been fulfilled.
“Another issue is how the Court will react in a situation when it is congested with cases and when will we be able to see visible cracks in their judgment. On the other hand, I expect serious political pressure will be placed on the Greek court. But in any case, I applaud the courage of those people who started such an important procedure. If one of them gets it, it will undermine the thesis that the Greek nation is 97% homogeneous,” said the expert, who insisted on anonymity.
БИТKА ВО ГРЦИЈА ЗА СТАРИТЕ СЕМЕЈНИ ПРЕЗИМИЊА
Атина ги бришe Македонците и од турски документи
Датум: 27.11.2012
Тој е Павле Филипов. Меѓутоа, за грчката држава е Павлос Воскопулос. Пеце Бенишев е Петрос Василијадис. Kрсте Ашлаков има документи од грчката држава дека е Kостас Ставрос Анастисајдис. На стотици илјади Македонци во Грција им е сотрен семејниот корен, а грчката држава им накалемила грчки презимиња кои завршуваат најчесто на -ос или на -ис. Пред шест години четворица Македонци почнаа судска битка за враќање на своите имиња и презимиња, кои нивните претходници ги имале од памтивек. Иако постојат законски услови за враќање на презимињата, тоа право с` уште не можат да го остварат. Овие четворица припадници на македонското малцинство водат донкихотовска битка со Атина. Ни објаснуваат дека „заради македонизмот“ ја почнале постапката. Но, биле испровоцирани на такво нешто затоа што припадниците на грчката држава секаде се фалат дека грчкото општество е развиена демократија во која секој поединец може да си ги оствари своите права.
- Според грчкиот закон за промена на презимињата, секој има морално право да си избере презиме. Kако, на пример, кога невестите се венчаваат, си избираат кое презиме ќе го носат. Меѓутоа, од министерството за внатрешни работи знаат дека ние сме припадници на македонското малцинство. Тие се плашат од поплава од такви барања. Од друга страна, свесни се дека на тој начин веднаш ќе се издиференцира грцизмот - вели Павле Филипов, кој веќе шест години чека судско решение за неговото барање.
Според него, грчките институции намерно го одложуваат процесот за барателот да се откаже од постапката, која чини пари. На пример, за апликација пред Врховниот суд Филипов платил 1.700 евра само за такси.
- Ова е изигрување на демократијата. За среќа, во Европа и во светот сфатија дека Грција е црна, катран овца. Таа едно зборува во Брисел, а сосема е друга ситуацијата во земјава. Но, европската тројка што дојде заради кризата виде дека станува збор за држава која шири лаги - вели Филипов.
Пеце Бенишев (52) од селото Врбени, Леринско, вели дека за неговото барање требало да се одржи судско рочиште на 13 ноември годинава, но му рекле дека тоа се одлага на неодредено време.
- Не знам зошто е одложено рочиштето, ниту пак кога ќе се закаже ново - ни изјави Бенишев. Еден од лидерите на партијата што ги претставува Македонците, „Виножито“, Павле, ни вели дека презимето Филипов го носи според прапрадедо му Филип.
- Сакам да му направам чест и да го зачувам споменот на мојот прапрадедо, да си го вратам презимето, што за мене е висок морален чин. Но, од судот велат таков тип презиме не постои. Мојот прадедо се викал Kочо Филипов, роден во 1891 година. Замислете, тие го прекрстиле во Kостас Воскопулос. Ги менувале крстилните документи и на умрените по 1913. Арно ама, во турско немало овде презимиња на -ос или на -ис. Тоа значи дека Грците фалсификувале документи и на родените пред 1912 година, што е срамно - истакнува Павле.
Слична е и семејната приказна на Бенишев. Нивното семејно презиме Грците им го смениле во 1936 година кога станале Василијадис.
- Македонштината ми е во срцето и сакам да го вратам старото македонско презиме. Тоа ми го овозможува и законот - ни изјави Бенишев.
Сите тие најавуваат натамошна борба за своите права пред Судот за човекови права во Стразбур. Чекаат само да завршат постапките пред сите судски инстанции во Грција за да може нивната апликација да биде прифатена.
Меѓутоа, според еден специјалист за човекови права, условот за да може да се аплицира пред Судот во Стразбур е веќе исполнет затоа што постапката не завршила во разумен рок од три години.
-Друго прашање е како ќе реагира Судот во услови кога е тој пренатрупан од случаи и кога можат да се видат видливи пукнатини при одлучувањето. Од друга страна, очекувам сериозен политички притисок врз судот од Грција. Но, во секој случај, им честитам на храброста на тие луѓе што почнале ваква важна постапка. Ако еден од нив добие, со тоа ќе ја нарушат тезата за 97-процентната хомогенизација на грчката нација - вели експертот, кој инсистираше на анонимност.
Христо ИвановскиLeave a comment:
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This is Albanian territory – Get out of Albania
November 18, 2012
According to a newspaper report, a group of people stormed into a local school and began to yell “This is Albania”, “These are Albanian lands”, “Get out of Albania”. This visibly upset the Macedonians living in Pustets.
A number of Albanian ultra-nationalist party activists, belonging to the Red-Black Alliance, along with twenty Albanian media people arrived at the Pustets Municipality on Friday and began to harass the local Macedonian population demanding that it leave Albania, insisting that these were Albanian lands and they did not belong there, reported Dnevnik.
According to the same report, a group of these people stormed into a local school and began to yell “This is Albania”, “These are Albanian lands”, “Get out of Albania”. The group went beyond yelling and posted stickers with the inscription “This is Albanian land” in all the bilingual municipalities. This visibly upset the Macedonians living in Pustets.
The Macedonian organizations and Macedonian political parties in Albania condemned the intrusion and called on the Albanian police to intervene. Unfortunately their calls were ignored.
The Albanian state is bound by agreement to respect the rights of its Macedonian minority, just like the Macedonian state respects the rights of the Albanian minority in Macedonia.
Ги бркале Македонците од Пустец: Ова е албанска земја - надвор од Албанија
Македонија | 18. ноември 2012 - 20:26
Како што пишува весникот, групата влегла во локалното училиште, и извикувала, „Ова е Албанија“, Ова е албанска земја“, Надвор од Албанија“. Ова видно ги вознемирило Македонците кои живеат во Пустец.
Активисти на албанската ултранационалистичка партија Црвено-црна алијанса заедно со уште дваесетина албански медиуми, во петокот дошле во општина Пустец и на локалното македонско население викале да се оди од државата бидејќи тоа е албанска земја, пренесува Дневник.
Како што пишува весникот, групата влегла во локалното училиште, и извикувала, „Ова е Албанија“, Ова е албанска земја“, Надвор од Албанија“. Ова видно ги вознемирило Македонците кои живеат во Пустец. Групата отишла и подалеку лепејќи налепници со натпис „Ова е албанска земја“ на сите табли во општината кои согласно локалните закони биле двојазични.
Организиациите и политчките партии на Македонците во Албанија го осудија настанот и побараа интервенција од албанската полиција, но таа не се огласила.
Албанија е обврзана да ги почитува правата на малцинствата. За споредба, во Македонија Албанците ги имаат сите права.Leave a comment:
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The Enemy from within
By Risto Stefov
November 21, 2012
After reading my articles about “Greece’s dispute with Macedonia’s name”, some of my readers have written many times to remind me that while I waste my time chasing after an obviously phantom destruction specifically designed to take “our” attention away from “real” issues, some people in the Republic of Macedonia are busy undermining little Macedonia from within!
It seems that not a single day goes by without some brazen act being committed not by hooligans, not by ordinary citizens, but by the very same people who yesterday brandished their Kalashnikovs against the Macedonian population in this tiny country and are today ruling in its Parliament!
Now it appears that they are starting to cause us problems in Pustets. Pushing around indigenous Macedonians living on their own ancestral lands, occupied by Albania in 1912, as if they are immigrants, like Golden Dawn their counterpart does in Greece. This is also reminiscent of the 1913 and 1945-46 terror tactics used by the Greeks to force Macedonians to leave their homeland. Macedonians were left with two choices; leave or pick up a gun, fight back and get killed. In other words leave or die! Is this what we have come down to again; in the 21st Century?
I am told that the terror activities occurring in Pustets, Albanian occupied Macedonia, are synchronized with the intimidations taking place inside the Republic of Macedonia. If this is true, which I believe it is, then there is a concerted effort to ethnically cleanse the entire region and get rid of the Macedonians. We all know and have said it before what happens next, especially if politics shift to the extreme rights as we see happening in Greece.
Speaking of Greece, if Golden Down comes to power in Greece let me be the first to warn you that, to prove its ferocity and might to the world, it will attack the Republic of Macedonia just to rid itself of the “danger from the north” which has been a preoccupation of Greece for many decades. When they do attack, I hope Macedonia will be prepared! I have great faith in the Macedonian military; it will defend our little country!
For years I have been told that those seeking peace and doing “good” would be rewarded but as I am finding out that is not true! It seems that those who seek war and break the rules are the ones being rewarded. Need I say more?
Macedonia and the Macedonian people, yet again, are being put in a precarious position! What to do? Let them do what they want and hope that some day they will stop? This has been going on for the last 20 years and ignoring it, as it has been done to this day, has not stopped it. So, if giving in, signing agreements, amnestying criminals and forgiving law breakers has not worked, then what will work? Declare war on them?
We could do that but then we would have to overlook what happened to Serbia when it declared war on its lawbreakers! Besides, look at our own history. Every time we raised arms, be it during the Ilinden Uprising or the Greek Civil War, we nearly ended up becoming extinct. So please let us learn from our past mistakes and not repeat them!
Perhaps they want us to “raise arms” so that they can prove to their patrons that we are yet another savage Balkan nation worthy of being bombed to smithereens and sent back to the Stone Age! No, we have to be smarter than that!
It would break my heart to see all those new buildings recently built everywhere in Macedonia being leveled and turned to dust! And what about our people, do we want what little is left of us to be bombed to dust? Raising arms has not been the answer for Macedonia; not since Alexander’s time! We should only be raising arms to defend ourselves from outside threats. Besides, like it or not, we still have to live with these people and we certainly don’t want to cause “bad blood” between us!
Speaking of Alexander isn’t it about time that we apologize to the world for the crimes he committed against all those nations that he invaded and occupied? Every Macedonian generation after Alexander has suffered immensely and has paid for the crimes he committed. Don’t you think we are cursed because of that?
So on behalf of all the Macedonian people I would like to be the first Macedonian to apologize for the sins and crimes that Alexander the Great committed against humanity. He may have made a name for himself but he left his people cursed for many generations.
So ignoring the enemy from within, as we have for the past 20 years, has not helped us and if raising arms against them is out of the question, then what?!
The answer my friends is very simple; Macedonia, no matter how tiny it is, is still a sovereign, independent democratic country. And like any other democratic country Macedonia has laws that govern the lives and activities of its citizens and visitors. The laws are there to protect people when they can’t achieve “understanding”!
There are local, municipal, regional, national and international laws; they are there to set limits, define behaviour and prevent crimes. At least in principle! But these laws are only good if they are enforced; otherwise they are words written on a piece of paper.
I don’t know why Macedonians say this and I often catch myself saying it too. We say: “They have more rights than any minority in the Balkans, what more do they want?” Well my friends, they will take what we give them and they will take everything we give them. And can we blame them for “looking after their own interests”? Don’t we seek and want the same thing from Greece, Bulgaria and from every country in the world we live in? Of course we don’t go around calling every piece of land we live in “Macedonia” but would we, if no one objected? So please don’t blame these people for looking after their own interests. But the question is “How much is enough?”
Well here is where “The Law” comes in!
Let me say here and now that “No One” is going to object to “using” democratically established laws, be they national or international, for solving our problems.
Let us do less complaining and urge our lawmakers and law enforcers to put some of these laws to use.
First apply the law on “census” and figure out the real picture of our citizens; how many are there, where they live, what ethnic group they belong to etc. Then from that use international norms to measure and determine rights and limits. It then becomes the responsibility of lawmakers and enforcers to monitor and make sure rules are applied equitably. By the same token, those attempting to exceed the limits must understand that they are breaking the law.
What this means is “No more amnesties for crimes committed against citizens” and those who break the law must be prepared to be punished to the full extent of the law! Law enforcers must also be given the right to apply the law fairly and equally to all citizens irrespective of their ethnicity or religion!
If Macedonia is to survive it must learn to treat its citizens equitably and fairly and punish the lawbreakers to the full extent of the law.
I often joked with the Macedonian military officers studying English at Base Borden about how harsh and unforgiving traffic laws are here in Canada in comparison to those in Macedonia. But you have to mean what you say if you want to be taken seriously! There is no talking yourself out of a traffic fine if you are caught speeding in Canada; no matter who you are, who you know, how many threats you make or by attempting to bribe the officer who caught you! In fact, if you do any of those things you will get yourself into further trouble!
Macedonians must learn to respect those who “genuinely struggle for their rights and interests” and “punish” those who break the law; it’s as simple as that! Everyone gets what they deserve according to the law! That’s how lasting civilized societies live!
Everything I have said so far is within reach! It does not depend on outsiders brokering deals and on dreadful and embarrassing agreements.
It is now up to Macedonian Citizens, to every Macedonian Citizen, to demand of their Government, their Lawmakers and their Law Enforcers to draft fair and equitable laws and to rigorously enforce them! It’s that simple!Leave a comment:
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On the Road of Time – Chapter 16
By Petre Nakovski
Translated and edited by Risto Stefov
[email protected]
November 11, 2012
After breakfast the next morning we left the hotel and went to the intersection at the promenade near the sea. There were pigeons flying individually, in clusters and in waves all around us, sweeping down at the quay, collecting everything that had been discarded by the visitors the night before. They were very aggressive and pecked at crumbs, seeds, fruit peels and other discarded food right from under our feet. They were not afraid and were used to being around people.
There were tall buildings in front of us and behind the buildings we could see the port cranes rising. We encountered only a small number of visitors at this hour and truck and car traffic was also light. The city was just waking up. Street sweepers were cleaning and washing the streets and the quay. We crossed the street and arrived at a crossroad. On the left at the corner, about a couple of metres above the sidewalk, was a board on the wall with the inscription: “Rruga Anastas Dursaku.”
We had found the street we were looking for. The entrance to it was surrounded by palm trees. This was the place where the night before we had made arrangements to meet Ismet and Marieta. We did not wait long and after they arrived we all went up the road towards the royal palace. To the right were thick walls that had belonged to the old fortress. The street was divided from the park by a row of benches, tall palm trees and cast iron poles with lamps on top of them.
“They look the same,” I said to Ismet, “they look the same as sixty years ago.”
We continued to walk looking for the house where we were accommodated and… we found it. We recognized it by the greenish metal window shutters and by the balcony. We found the iron, now rusty, crooked double door leading to the cigarette factory. Both sides of the door were tied together with a thick chain and a large padlock hung on it. Nothing had changed here, on this part of the street. The palm trees had grown taller on the other side of the street.
The grass had been cut short, the benches were painted and the paths were cleared. We stood there staring at the three-storey grey building with its small windows and closed shutters. The children from the village Ezerets were placed on the ground floor which had windows at almost the same level as the pavement. The children from the village Krchishta were placed on the first floor and the children from the village Grache were placed on the second floor. There was one more floor now but it did not exist then. From the cracked façade on the old walls it looked like it was added later. Nobody lived there now.
The narrow street between the building and the cigarette factory still exists. Then, when we were here, there was a door with four rows of barbed wire on it. The door was put there to keep us from leaving.
I mentioned to Ismet and Marieta several times that this was the house where we once lived and from the expression on their faces I realized that they were sharing our excitement. Then, while they sat on the park bench, we continued to explore our former place of residence.
We took to the narrow cobblestone lane. On the left there was a large yard from which we entered our then home. In one of the corners, the furthest one, under the tall mulberry tree, there was a constant fire burning. We had boiled water in a cauldron to wash our clothes. The yard was now hidden behind a gate, fenced with wooden boards. We knocked repeatedly on the gate until finally a girl, wearing a transparent summer shirt and very tight blue jeans, opened it. We greeted her with the three or four Albanian words we knew but that was the extent of our conversation. We were stuck; we could not tell her what we wanted, especially of our great desire to see the house. A man came out of a small house, probably built illegally in the middle of the yard, and asked something. We stuck our heads inside the gate and said we wanted to come inside. The man shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he did not understand, waved his hands and went back into the house.
The yard was unrecognizable. The large mulberry tree and the water tap were gone. The orange trees were gone. They had been replaced by a ten storey building now under construction. We came back to “Anastas Dursaku” street and crossed to the other side. There, while standing under the shade of a large palm tree, we stared at the window shutters behind which were our rooms. We were cramped in those chambers which had two sinks but we never saw water come out of them. We had to go out to the yard to wash. Now, after so many years, we stood there staring at the window shutters behind which we spent seven months of our lives...
After catching up with Marieta and Ismet we left “Anastas Dursaku” street and following the narrow passages, remnants of the old city, we headed for the city centre. Ismet later told us that he was a retired colonel, a graduate of the military academy of Kiev. He told us that after Nikita Khrushchev and Enver Hoxha had their fallout, he was removed from the army and sent to a prison camp where he served for five years.
The city centre was surrounded by a chain of ten storey buildings among which were many old, one storey houses. We were looking for the houses in which we were placed after being moved from the “Pesutsite” but there was no trace of them. The houses were gone, replaced by new residential skyscrapers. The narrow street which then was our exclusive place, where we played soccer with a ball made of rags, was now a wide road driven on almost exclusively by Mercedes.
From what I remember, there was a soccer stadium around here somewhere. They used to take us there, not to watch soccer matches, but to spend half a day of our time playing in the low cut green grass. And then, at noon, we would march single file, singing songs, along the main road straight to the port, then turn right past the Albanian Navy barracks, and end our march under the willow tree.
We did not find “our” stadium. Neither did we find the large field where, after a severe rainstorm, we were sent to collect the flattened out grain stems that were not harvested. We collected all the grain heads and placed them in huge piles beside the harvesting machine. Marianthy went from group to group, urging us, telling us that by doing this we were helping the people’s government and that we were fighting against Anglo-American imperialism. I guess she was not at all concerned about us baking under the summer sun and burning with thirst.
We held competitions to see which unit would collect more heads of grain, sing louder, and make a bigger pile. So, through our effort and sweat, burning and enduring thirst in the big field, we became stronger and bolder in our preparedness for bigger things in the future. There was plenty of space in our child’s minds for memories, which is why we did not forget the words of our daily slogans that were drilled into our minds day after day.
The big field was no longer there, but on the same site there were large residential buildings which, unlike the former, complemented the new character of the now unrecognizable Durres or Durasi, as some liked to call it. But, in the midst of modern Durres, there were also little signs that reminded us of the old Durres. There was the municipal building with the big clock, the street that was now called “Anastas Dursaku”, the grey building in which we were placed, the royal palace; all almost untouched by modern times. These were places that had not yet been touched by the Albanian renaissance.
Looking to our left we recognized the short houses, the cobblestone path and the small yard with the crooked iron gate standing in front of the palace. We had never been inside the yard. We didn’t go this time either even though the entry was not guarded by armed guards. From here, from this height, in the place where once a swamp used to sit, one could see the most beautiful part of modern Durres. One could watch the port and the ships in the open sea waiting in line to dock. And beyond that, blurred in the light summer fog, one could see tall buildings divided from the sea by a long sandy strip of beach. And beyond there, far away, barely visible to the naked eye, was a small corner. There, where the land met the sea, ended the sandy area of the great beach...
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That’s how we remembered it. How many times had we run up and down this street? How many times had we gone up to the locked iron gate at the royal palace where there always was an armed guard on duty? How many times had we run up and down in step, making a tap… tap… tap… sound like that of a single person running. When running together you had no time to catch your breath, to let the pain in your side subside, to stop and gasp for air… you just ran, you ran to unconsciousness. That’s what Marianthy taught us, that’s how she wanted us to be. She wanted to hear the sound tap… tap… tap… tap… a single military tap per step no matter how many were walking, marching, or running.
And now, sixty years later, as I remembered the tapping sounds, it seemed that I could still feel the pain in my side, the shortness of breath and the drenching sweat...
Tap - tap – tap! Tap – tap – tap! Our child’s steps rang on the street now called “Anastas Dursaku”… And those who couldn’t stay in step because they had pain in their sides, were denied breakfast and were humiliated in public. That’s how Marianthy wanted it; to bring us up as soldiers… And when we returned all sweaty and exhausted, our peers waited for us in front of the barbed wire gate with guns on their shoulders. Why?... That’s how Marianthy wanted it… She often used to say that General Markos had pulled her out of the combat formations and sent her here to Durres for the sole purpose of turning us into fighters; to teach us to want to fight and to grow quickly and continue the work of our fathers and brothers who were bravely fighting against the Anglo-American imperialists.
That’s what she used to tell us. But in 1947 when Macedonian schools were opened, our Macedonian teacher used to tell us that our fathers and brothers were fighting for Macedonia. Who to believe? We understood and loved our Macedonian teacher, but we did not understand Marianthy and on top of that we hated her. We had no place in our hearts for her, even as young children. Then when we found out that she was fooling around with an Albanian we called Fortsa Karotsa (a night watchman, a Greek from Epirus snitched on her) we demanded that she leave. And sneaking under her room window, we swore at her and called her every dirty word in the book.
Marianthy left at the end of September 1948. It was peaceful the next day. The harsh sharp ringing sound of the bell that used to wake us up early in the morning was silenced. The days of having to run in the early dawn, in the dark, still sleeping while getting into formation out in the square were over. The days of having to run along the designated route as fast as we could, all in step, past the barracks, every morning at the same time as the Albanian navy was doing gymnastics were over. Every day when the sailors came out of the barracks they were met with our jeers and mockery because that’s what Marianthy encouraged us to do. By doing this we were told that we would become stronger and braver and better prepared for greater things in comparison to the Albanian defenders of the sea.
Evdoxia introduced new rules. We were to wake up at six o’clock in the morning, do ten minutes of gymnastics at seven o’clock (no gymnastics for the small children), wash, get dressed (our clothes were in tatters) and then eat breakfast. The hard marches, the long runs, the running to the palace, the marching songs, the jeering at the sailors, the standing under the willow tree and the calling out of slogans about Markos were all removed from our daily routine. The box disappeared from the willow tree and the voices of the two women on the radio, who every day at twelve o'clock sharp spoke about the great battles and about DAG’s (Democratic Army of Greece) victories, went silent. It was strange that all of that suddenly disappeared and we finally had some peace and began to feel like children again…
October came and with it came the cold. Strong cold winds began to blow from the sea turning the cold concrete floor even colder. We slept on the concrete floor in our rooms. We were issued two blankets to every five children. We used one on the concrete floor and the other as a cover. We were lined up like rifle shells all in a row and hugged one another to keep warm. The clothes we came with were summer clothes, worn out and useless against the cold. Our shoes were also worn out and torn up and we, more or less, walked barefoot.
A day or two after Marianthy left, we found out that the Albanian city committee fired Fortsa Karotsa. All we had left after that was the caretaker, who having no job to do snoozed under the willow tree. The first days we had no one to supply us with food, but soon they appointed another Albanian. In addition to food this person also supplied us with socks and shoes. The food was better too. Each day every child received a bun of rye bread the size of two fists and a spoon of sugar. Almost every day we were served potatoes for lunch. The potatoes were sliced lengthwise, seasoned with flour and very sweet red pepper and boiled in a large cauldron.
In the shelter we called the appointed Albanian officer in charge of supplying us with food, “Shoku Karotsa.” We constantly accompanied him and his Albanian assistant who spoke a little Macedonian. The Albanian assistant pulled a chariot (similar to an Indian rickshaw) filled to the top with bags usually containing pasta. From May to late August 1948 we ate exclusively pasta for lunch every day. By volume and by weight, we received more food than the Albanians. We were not starving but we were not sufficiently fed either.
One day a truck came inside the shelter yard and offloaded a whole bunch of military shirts. They gave us one each. The shirts served us as winter coats. They were so large, we got lost inside of them. They were long, stretching all the way down to our knees. We also had to fold the sleeves several times in order to see our fingers. The shirts were not new and had been scorched in many places. There were also dried up blood stains on some. In some of the pockets we found photographs of women, children, girls and whole families. There were also letters, mostly written in Greek. Some written in pencil, some in ink and some had drops and spots of blood on them. We got those who could read Greek to read them to us out loud. Most of us did not know the Greek alphabet so we could not read but we listened very carefully and felt very, very sad. We did not know these people, but through their letters and pictures we shared their joys and sorrows. Through their letters and pictures we became very close to them because, like us, they too were separated from their families, but unlike us they were able to make contact with their loved ones through letters....
We received neither letters nor pictures and we sent none either because we had no idea who was where at the time. One thing we knew was that our homeland was at war and that was for certain. When we heard familiar names of mountains and hills from the box hanging on the willow tree we knew clouds of war hung over our villages and our homes were on fire and burning. Did our folks stay home? We did not know. And even though we knew that the letters and pictures that we had found in the pockets of the bloodied military shirts, bloodied by the war, would leave us with cumbersome and awfully painful memories, it seemed that they were the only living thread that tied them to their family while they were still alive. We were alive and yet we had no thread running from us to our families and from them to us. We felt very sad and grieved over each letter we read and over each photograph we looked at; images that gave us nightmares. We no longer dreamed of green meadows, of ripe fruit and of birds singing... we now dreamt of burning houses and weeping mothers...
It became even colder in November. Dark clouds hung over the city and over the sea, it rained more and stronger winds blew colder air from the sea. The time to return home grew longer. Our parents told us that we would be back home soon. That’s what they were told. They said the sooner the conflict ends, the sooner your children would be returned to you. Your children would be back as soon as the government forces were defeated, they were told. As soon as the government was expelled and the military planes and the artillery disappeared, your children would be coming back they were told. That’s what they were told. Had the military planes and artillery disappeared?
At the end of the month one afternoon, twenty military trucks arrived and were parked on the road a little further from the naval barracks. They were brand new vehicles and people were saying that they had just arrived from Russia. We heard a loud voice in the evening saying:
“Pack your bags! We are leaving!”
We had nothing to pack. Half the clothes our mothers sent with us by now were worn out. We took very little clothing because we were told we would be coming back very soon.
“We are going home, we are going home!!! Home!!! Home!!!” our voices thundered as we prepared to return to our homes.
We were overwhelmed with happiness and joy. The news was sudden like lightning coming down from the sky. We yelled, jumped, embraced and shook one another and filled the place with laughter at the great news which filled us with hope. Never before until now had we had such radiance and clarity in our eyes. Filled with immense feelings of joy we could not sleep and impatiently waited for dawn to arrive. The next day they woke us very early in the morning. They grouped us and lined us up by villages. We knew very well how to stand in line. Then single file, they loaded us onto the Russian military trucks.
We did not turn back, not even for a last look at the three storey grey house, the willow tree, or the playground where we had spent seven months of our young innocent lives, of our not so happy childhood. The trucks left early in the morning and with them ran and flew our thoughts and imagination. It seemed to us that the trucks were not moving fast enough and that we could walk home faster. All this time we imagined how it would be; how fast we would run to our mothers, to embrace them and hug them; how it would feel to be hugged back and be called by name; how our mother’s tears would roll down their cheeks when they first saw us; how they would smile and be full of happiness. We imagined ourselves running in our yards, in our village streets. We imagined filling every street and every corner with noise and laughter, we imagined…
…No, the new Russian military trucks did not take us home. They took us high up the mountains to a meadow covered with snow near the border. There we were loaded onto different trucks that took us to trains which transferred us even further north to wider and greener fields…Leave a comment:
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Macedonia v. Greece: The Truth Behind the Name Dispute
by Risto Stefov
[email protected]
February, 2002
click here for a printable version
I write here to inform the unaware reader and to remind the weary Macedonian why it is important for Macedonians to fight, by any means possible, to survive. I strive to inspire others to initiate debates and join with me in telling our story. I invite historians and academics to revisit history and re-open the Macedonian question.
Since her inception as a country in the 1820's, Modern Greece has instituted and to this day is enforcing discriminatory policies towards the Macedonian people. The name dispute is nothing new. It is ongoing Greek interference in Macedonian affairs.
I intend to explore the results of policies instituted by Greek Governments and the harm they have done to the Macedonian people. I intend to show that for the sole benefit of her selfish needs, and to cover up acts of ethnic cleansing and cultural genocide against the Macedonian people, Greece has consistently denied the existence of a Macedonian nationality.
I intend to show that since Greece became a country in the late 1820's, successive Greek Governments have systematically and deliberately promoted discriminatory actions and policies to suppress the identity of the Macedonian nation. I intend to provide evidence resulting from the implementation of such actions and policies. I also intend to show how, by passing carefully worded laws, Greek Governments have isolated Macedonians and robbed them of their rights and privileges as Greek citizens.
I also intend to show how Greece has highjacked Classical and Hellenistic history to aid in her quest for annexing Macedonian territory and denying Macedonians their heritage.
Finally, I intend to challenge the most popular club and donut shop debated Greek claims of the origin of Modern Macedonians, Modern Greeks and the purity of the Modern Greek nation.
As George Orwell once pointed out, "Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past." If you believe George Orwell as I do or the saying that "history is written by the victors," then continue reading.
I would like to begin this document with a few personal observations of my own that measure, unscientifically, today's mood and the political opinions of ordinary Macedonians and Greeks. As an added bonus, I would like to provide some measure of the general public's level of awareness and understanding of issues facing Macedonia today.
Over some time I informally inquired from ordinary people that identify with Modern Greeks what they think of Macedonians?
The results are summarized as follows:
1. "Macedonians don't exist."
2. "There is no such thing as Macedonians."
3. "Macedonians have been extinct for a long time."
4. "There is a region called Macedonia but it belongs to Greece."
The similarity of answers provided by various individuals is most curious.
I did the same with people that identify with Macedonians. The question this time was what do Macedonians think of the Greeks?
In almost every instance I witnessed signs of frustration, anger and disappointment before a single word was uttered.
1. Some shook their heads and walked away saying "there is nothing good to say."
2. Others wished the Greeks would "leave us alone so that we can get on with our lives."
3. Some spoke of the "Greek injustices" perpetrated over the years.
I did a similar test with people who were not of Greek or Macedonian nationality. I asked the question, "What do you know about Greeks and Macedonians and the issues that face them today?"
Here is a summary of the results:
1. Many responded by saying, "Greeks, Macedonians, same thing".
2. Most knew nothing of Macedonians and a little of the Greeks.
3. Virtually none were aware of any specific issues facing the two countries except that problems existed, which they learned from watching television or reading the newspaper.
The results of this informal mini survey revealed the following:
1. Greek people have a preconceived mind set about Macedonia and the Macedonian people.
2. Ordinary Macedonians are frustrated by Greek interference in their affairs.
3. Ordinary individuals outside of the two groups are not well informed about issues facing the two countries.
Macedonians, who have the most to gain from this, have not done enough to publicize the issues and bring them out into the open.
To understand the nature of the current problems between the two countries, I must take you back to watershed points in history, to the events that gave birth to the problems.
I believe the initial turning point began before the creation of the Modern Greek state with the world's discovery of the old Greek city-states.
During the Renaissance when scholars of the Christian world turned their attention to science, mathematics and philosophy, Muslim scholars from occupied Spain lead them to the discovery of the ancient Greek world. Fascinated by the discovery they began to translate ancient works and publish books that popularized the exploits of the ancient Greeks making them famous.
The next turning point took place in the early 1820's when Greece rebelled, unsuccessfully, against five hundred years of Ottoman rule. Eventually, her newly-found fame would turn the tide in her favour.
The rebellion prompted a harsh response from Turkey against the Greek people and this gained the attention of the world. Cries of sympathy and protests prompted the superpowers France, Britain and Russia to dispatch their navies and liberate Greece.
At that time Greece was a small country at the foot of the Balkans, its population was a mix of indigenous Greeks, Albanians, Vlahs, Slavs, Turks and other minorities.
The unexpected liberation caught the small country by surprise and threw her population into chaos, struggling to assert their individual identities. With help from her allies she recovered and began to rebuild.
During this crucial period of soul searching, Greece forged new ideas that would later have negative consequences for Macedonia.
With allied help, the Greek people formed a new government, crowned a king, revised history, created a literary language, instituted education, created a military and began to plan territorial expansions, all in a span of a few decades. The Ottoman Empire was weakening and there would be plenty of opportunities for acquiring new territories in the future. While the military was planning campaigns, scholars were busy forging a new identity for the Greek people. In an effort to capture some of the glory of the ancient past the new nation would be called Hellas and its people would be referred to as Hellenes. A carefully chosen name and identity, which would serve Greek propaganda well in the future.
Forward thinking politicians, revisionists and policy makers made sure nothing was left to chance. They literally designed the new nation to take advantage of the past and to exploit the future. These were also the people who decided Macedonia's fate.
By the beginning of the twentieth century Greece had tripled in size by conquering and annexing all of the territory she occupies today -- except for Macedonia.
Athens had now taken an active role in all archeological affairs and instituted censorship. All information and artifacts were regulated to ensure the past was in agreement with the present.
The next turning point takes us to the last thirty years before the 1912-1913 Balkan wars. It was during this period that Greece took extraordinary measures to conceal the identity and character of the Macedonian nation.
Greece, due to her control of Christian interests inside Macedonia, was granted unrestricted access in and out of Ottoman territory, provided it was for religious purposes only. Since the abolition of the Macedonian Church in 1767 by Ottoman Sultan Mustafa III, having no other choice, Macedonians turned to the Greek Church for prayer. Up until the middle of the 19th century the Greek Church had exclusive rights over Christianity inside the Ottoman Empire.
At that time the Ottoman administration was not yet reformed and functioned poorly at best. There was no statistical information available regarding the composition of nationalities in the region. When the Ottomans took a census they were interested in numbers relating to religious affiliation, mainly consisting of Muslims and Christians, not nationalities.
The lack of proper statistics was opportune for the Greek census takers who quickly took advantage of the situation and cleverly substituted "Greek" for "Christian" in the old Ottoman census.
Substituting "nationality" for "religion" went unchallenged until the Bulgarian Church became involved in Macedonia. Near the end of the 19th century Bulgaria was granted consecration rights and started its own church. The Ottomans sensed the growing power and influence of the Greek Church in the region and decided it was time to give them some competition.
By this time Bulgaria had also staked her claim on Macedonian territory and was headed on a collision course with Greece.
Bulgaria also understood the importance of concealing the Macedonian nationality and she too adapted the method of substituting "Bulgarian" for "Christian".
Even after the unsuccessful Macedonian (Ilinden) rebellion in 1903 against the Ottoman Turk, Greece and Bulgaria made no mention of Macedonians.
Both countries were claiming the same population virtually doubling the numbers overnight. To avoid undue attention and to show proof of claim, both parties initiated campaigns to attract new or convert old parishioners. Macedonians now had a choice of Church, the old conservative Greek Patriarch Church or the new Bulgarian Exarchist Church.
Not to be outdone by Greece and Bulgaria, Serbia, (a little later) also joined in and started operating her own churches in Macedonia. As competition intensified the churches offered free education for children and other perks. As competition further intensified, church agents turned to violence, intimidation and murder to keep up their numbers. Hooligans and mercenaries were hired to intimidate, beat and murder people. Priests who left one church for another, paid with their lives. If you wish to know more about the atrocities committed by Greek authorities during this period read about Karavangeli's exploits in Macedonia (Arheio Makedonikou Agona, Pinelopis Delta, Apomnimoneymata, Germanou Karavaggeli, Georgiou Dikonymou Makri, Panagioti Papatzanetea).
The next turning point takes us to the Balkan conflict of 1912-1913 and Macedonia's partition.
Before 1912 her three suitors had one objective in mind, to divide and conquer. In spite of their bickering over the same territory they managed to agree on how to divide it. Then in 1912 (first Balkan War) plans were put into action and they successfully expelled the Ottomans from all of Macedonia's territory. When it came to dividing Macedonia, however, greed got in the way and war (the 1913 second Balkan War) broke out between them. Greece allied itself with Serbia and fought against Bulgaria.
Things really went out of control when other Balkan Countries became involved, hoping to recover long lost territories. It took superpower intervention to stop the conflict but it didn't help Macedonia.
In August 1913, by the Treaty of Bucharest, Macedonia's partition was sanctioned. Things worsened for Macedonia at the conclusion of World War I on June 28th, 1919 the superpowers at the Paris Peace Conference ratified the 1913 Treaty of Bucharest and with minor territorial adjustments, left Macedonia partitioned to this day.
Macedonia was divided for the first time since the Roman wars. New borders were drawn and secured, leaving villages, families, and friends permanently separated.
As soon as Greece consolidated her control over her share of Macedonia's spoils she initiated ethnic cleansing. Macedonians affiliated with the Exarchist Church were expatriated. Serbia exerted no influence in this region, so there were no Serbians to expatriate. After the purges, the remaining population was forced to take an oath of allegiance to the Greek nation and denounce all others including their own. Those who refused were expatriated.
More populations were expatriated after the war with Turkey (1920's). Besides purging, Greece also exchanged Muslims for Christians in the population exchanges with Turkey. Most of the newcomers were sent to Macedonia and by way of land re-distribution and reforms, were given the lands and homes belonging to the evicted Macedonians. No Macedonian was ever awarded damages for confiscation of property or loss of possessions.
Even Macedonians that fought side by side with the Greeks in Turkey were discriminated against and their assistance was never recognized. The families of Macedonian soldiers who died in combat received no recognition or compensation for their loss.
At the conclusion of the war with Turkey (1920's), Greece initiated new assimilation policies in Macedonia to forcibly Hellenize the Macedonian nation. The policies required that every name be changed to have a "Greek sounding" character. Those with Slavonic sounding names were required to choose or were given new names.
All traces of Cyrillic writing found in public buildings, churches, gravestones, etc., were erased. Macedonian place names were changed. Every village, mountain, lake, stream, river and road was given a Greek name. Laws prohibited use of the Macedonian language. A heavy dose of castor oil was punishment for a child caught speaking Macedonian. A hefty fine (and much worse) was punishment for an adult.
Those who needed to communicate to do their jobs were in real trouble. For some it was safer not to speak than to risk being fined. Even animals (dogs, oxen, horses, donkeys, etc.) had to be re-educated to obey commands in Greek. Older people who could not afford the fines were sent to court and forced to pay. In many cases it meant having to sell their meager assets.
The next turning point was the Greek Civil War (1944 to 1949). In spite of all attempts by Greece to ethnically cleanse, forcibly assimilate, Hellenize, and suppress the Macedonian nation, its Macedonian identity remained alive. During the occupation (World War II), free from Greek oppression, Macedonians began to publicly re-assert their identities. They began to talk, sing and publicly perform plays in Macedonian. Some learned to read and write for the first time using the Cyrillic alphabet.
The Greek Communist Party having influence in the region took advantage of this. They promised the Macedonian people equal rights and recognition of the Macedonian nationality under the Greek nation. This created a division between those who wanted an independent Macedonia and those who wanted partnership with Greece. Greek military forces pushed out, the Partisans who wanted an independent Macedonia, across the Yugoslav border where they joined the Macedonian brigades there. The rest fought side by side with the Greeks.
After the expulsion of Germany and Italy they again fought side-by-side with the Communist Greeks in the Greek Civil War, and lost. No equal rights or recognition of the Macedonian nationality ever materialized. In contrast, the Macedonian contribution for liberating Yugoslavia from the Fascists was rewarded with the creation of the People's Republic of Macedonia. The Macedonian people earned their place in the world by shedding blood. But Greece is still refusing to recognize them, insisting on calling them "Skopians" (a derogatory euphemism for Macedonian).
For their bloodshed in liberating Greece from the Fascists, the Macedonian people were rewarded with more ethnic cleansing.
During the Greek Civil War tens of thousands of refugee children ages four to fourteen were rounded up and evacuated to Eastern Block countries (spring of 1948). Later they were not allowed to return. Greece prepared carefully worded laws to include Greek (by genus only) and exclude Macedonian children from returning.
Then in the fall of 1949 the general population from Macedonia, mainly for the Lerin (Florina) and Kostur (Kastoria) regions, was evacuated as war refugees. Most of those who left the country were not allowed to come back, not even to visit family, attend funerals or light a candle at the graves of their loved ones. Between 1945 and 1949 the Macedonian demographic was so drastically altered that Macedonians became a minority in their native land.
From the Greek Civil War onward many Macedonians originating from Greece have immigrated to countries like Canada, Australia and the USA in search of a better life. Their political standing in Greek society, at home and abroad has hardly changed since Macedonia was occupied in 1912. At home, Macedonians still face discrimination and abuse at the hands of Greek Governments.
If you "feel Macedonian" and attempt to assert your identity, you will encounter discrimination. You may lose your job. Your children may not be able to attend higher education. You will not be promoted in the Greek military.
So far I have presented evidence of acts perpetrated by successive Greek Governments including ethnic cleansing, forced assimilation and systemic discrimination against the Macedonian people. I have also given examples of how Greek Governments time and time again denied the existence of a Macedonian nationality.
I will now attempt to explain how successive Greek Governments committed cultural genocide by manipulating history to deny Macedonians their heritage.
Earlier in this document I mentioned that after her inception, Greece experienced an identity crisis. Her premature liberation from Turkey and lack of unity in her ethnically diverse population threw her into soul-searching chaos.
The problem of ethnicity was not solved by recognizing the existing ethnic diversity of the population or by allowing numbers to determine majorities and minorities. Instead, the Greek nation builders decided to build a new national identity, one that would take advantage of ancient history and lay the foundation for the future.
The modern Greeks were told they were the Hellenes, descended from the ancient Hellenic world and rightful heirs to ancient Hellenic history. At the same time they were told that Greece had many enemies who would try to take their inheritance away from them. Along with pride and fear, xenophobia was instilled into the Greek consciousness. This perhaps explains why Modern Greeks have a mindset and strong feelings not only towards Macedonians but towards Bulgarians and Turks as well.
Scholarly revisionists began to create the modern version of Greek history. To further strengthen her claims of the past, Greece resurrected an old Attican (Athenian) language and used it as the basis for its modern literary language. This language was difficult to learn and used mostly by scholars, the church and legal institutions. Surprisingly it survived for over a century before it was abandoned in favour of the simpler language people use today.
Her popularity in the world assured Greece her liberation and shaped her national identity. Her claims to the past were about to shape her future. Before annexing new territories she made sure history would back her claims. With intense propaganda she prepared her people and with vigour she pursued her exploits. After annexing most of the northern territories unabated, she was ready for Macedonia.
Unlike before, however, her claims to Macedonia did not go unnoticed. As I pointed out earlier, competition for Macedonia grew with intensity that eventually boiled over into full-scale war (wars of 1912 and 1913).
To protect her interests, first, from the Macedonian people and second, from her competitors (Bulgaria and Serbia), Greece came up with ingenious defensive methods. She vigorously fought to censor publications of archeological discoveries and offered her own expert opinions on ancient matters.
To protect her future, she frequently published demographic statistics to debunk the claims of others, always being careful to avoid use of the "M" word for Macedonians. Meanwhile at home, the propaganda machine made sure her population was stayed in line with her policies.
Publications without censorship were (and still are) vigorously protested. Eventually, as many authors and researchers of ancient studies would attest, the "M" word became a dirty word. For a time it was banned from the Greek vocabulary. The Macedonian territory annexed by Greece was re-named "Northern Greece".
Today Greek newspapers (Amfiktyon, Syllogiko Enotiko Organo Symvolis sti diasosy tou Ellinismou, November/December 2001) in their zeal to prove there are no more Macedonians left in Greece, unwittingly have betrayed past acts committed by their Governments against the Macedonian people.
Archeological discoveries did not escape the Greek censor either. Anything disagreeable quickly disappeared. After more than 1400 years of "Slav" (Slavonic Macedonian) presence in the region, not a single bit of "Slav" evidence was reported to be found. There wasn't any because Greece made sure it disappeared the moment it was discovered.
Look at the extreme measures Greece took during the 1920s and 1930's to erase all evidence of Macedonian existence. They changed people's first and last names, geographical toponyms, and banned use of the Macedonian language outright.
What happened to the relics found beneath the shorelines of Lake Prespa (Prespa Island was King Samoil's fortress)?
What happened to the buried treasures and artifacts found from pre 1767 Macedonian churches? They all disappeared. The reason the Ottomans banned the Macedonian Church was because it was a symbol of strength and influence in the old Balkan world.
The Greek Church instigated the ban by spying and reporting on Macedonian activities to the Ottoman Authorities. More recently many old Macedonian churches were razed to the ground and new (Greek) churches were built to cover the ruins. Including the old Church of St. Pantelimon in Lerin (Florina).
What happened to the old Cyrillic gravestones in the village cemeteries? It is estimated that tens of thousands of relics have disappeared in the last century to conceal all evidence that may give credence to a Macedonian presence.
Look at the works of ancient studies and compare the interpretations of Greek versus non-Greek versions. Why is there such a vast difference? Why is Greece striving so hard to tip the scale in her favour when it comes to ancient history?
Why do history books refer to the " Hellenistic civilization" and not the "Macedonian civilization?" What difference does it make anyway? It does to Greece so that she can maintain a firm grip on Macedonia.
Was it not the Macedonian Empire that made the conquests and bridged east and west (dispersion)? Was it not the Macedonian Empire that commissioned the building of many cities like Alexandria of Egypt? Was it not the Macedonian Empire that spread knowledge and civilization to the world? Wasn't it Alexandria and not Athens that became the intellectual capital of the ancient World?
Doesn't Macedonia deserve a bit more mention in the history books or a bit more credit for her past deeds?
So far I have provided arguments to show the extreme measures (cultural genocide) that Greece has taken to safeguard her claims on Macedonia. From misleading her people about their origin, to highjacking ancient history, to concealing artifacts and publishing misleading statistics on nationalities.
Greece and perhaps others thrive and prosper today at the expense of Macedonia and her people. For over a century now Greece has denied the existence of the Macedonian nation, robbing Macedonians of their heritage.
I would like to offer alternatives to some of the more popular beliefs about the origins of Greeks and Macedonians and about the purity of the Greek people.
Who are the Greeks?
The official claim is that modern Greeks are descendents of an ancient tribe of Hellenes that came from the heartland of Europe, traveled through the Balkans and settled by the southern shores of Modern Greece.
By observing behavioral patterns, it is more plausible to assume that the ancient inhabitants of the southern Balkan shoreline came from the south, most likely from the Nile River delta regions. Over population, drought or pressures from invasions may have forced them to migrate. Naturally, being sea-faring people they settled on the shoreline where for many years they lived off the sea and thrived. They loved the sea and as their populations grew they colonized the Mediterranean coastline.
Recent population studies using DNA analysis have put the lie to the Greek identity myth. Scientific evidence now shows that modern Greeks are more closely related to sub-Saharan Africans than to any Mediterranean peoples - including Cretans.
Furthermore, modern Macedonians (who Greeks allege only recently entered the Balkans) are shown to be genetically related to the other Mediterranean populations. Click here to read the abstract.
Are the Ancient Greek and Ancient Macedonian people related?
The Ancient Greeks did not think so. There is ample evidence to prove linguistically and culturally that the Ancient Greeks and Ancient Macedonians were different people. See http://www.macedon.org/anmacs for more information on this.
It has been documented in ancient sources that the Macedonian elite, in addition to speaking the common language (Koine) also spoke another, a uniquely Macedonian language. There are several extant examples of Alexander the Great using this language to give orders to his Macedonian soldiers.
What is the connection between Ancient Macedonians and Slavs?
Greece set out to convince the world that the Macedonians (whom they refer to as the "Slavs") are newcomers to the area and cannot lay claim to any part of ancient Macedonian history. There are very few objective or unbiased students of the Slavs so first let's take a look at what the Greeks have to say.
Greeks claim the "Slavs" originated from the regions near Modern Russia and the Ukraine and migrated southward reaching the Balkans around the sixth and seventh centuries AD. They claim that before settling the land the "Slavs" killed off the local inhabitants (I assume they mean the Ancient Macedonians) then colonized the region.
Most students of Slavonic history tend to agree with the Greek assessment. More recently however, with the independence of the Republic of Macedonia, scholars and researchers have uncovered new evidence to challenge these claims. The first discoveries came from archeological digs where over a hundred and fifty monuments have been found with linguistic evidence showing similarities between modern Slavonic languages and Ancient Balkan languages. In addition, Macedonian students of Homer who have studied the Iliad, have found similarities between the language in the Iliad and today's Macedonian language.
These new discoveries, along with the recent DNA population studies, provide enough evidence to seriously question the veracity of the old claims. They suggest a proto-Slav language was already being used in the Balkans prior to the so-called "Slavonic Invasions" of the sixth century AD. Furthermore, these "Slavs" are genetically related to the other Mediterranean peoples, including the Cretans -- but specifically, not the Greeks.
In a more current vein I want to point out that the poisonous Greek propaganda spewing forth for over a century is not confined to her borders. Greek consulates and embassies work hard at promoting Greek propaganda by giving away thousands of free books, newspapers and magazines and support many academics and lobby groups to influence organizations and Governments worldwide. Their influence is not limited to propaganda alone.
The consulates and embassies are also hard at work keeping tabs on the activities of organizations and people, even their own people. Greek authorities quickly react to any perceived threat on their founding mythology to the point of using violence if necessary.
Many Macedonians who came from Greece and are now living in the Diaspora are afraid to participate in Macedonian events. They will not attend Macedonian festivals, parades, picnics, and dances or even attend Mass at Macedonian Churches for fear of being reported to the Greek authorities who would then punish their relatives back in Greece.
Finally, I hope I have provided you with enough convincing evidence to help you understand the plight of the Macedonian nation and why Macedonians must fight to survive. Giving up the fight with Greece is like committing suicide because Greece will protect her interests at any cost, even our extinction.
I hope I have inspired you to pick up the torch and carry it forward for Macedonia's sake.Leave a comment:
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On the Road of Time – Chapter 13
By Petre Nakovski
Translated and edited by Risto Stefov
[email protected]
October 21, 2012
We returned to Prenies. There we took a right turn. On the left was the mosque, behind which was a residential settlement. Two and three storey houses had been recently built there and a little above that, next to the intersection, was the Orthodox church.
Suddenly a question popped into my mind, “Why was there, in those days when Italians were here, an Orthodox church in the middle of an Italian military base, shouldn’t it have been a Catholic church? Or was this church built to honour the memory of those who died here? The question bothered me as I became more and more curious. But who to ask?
There were many flowers decorating the outside yard door and there was a locked padlock hanging on the door. People passing by stopped for a moment and shook their heads, gesturing that they did not understand what I was asking them. Then, when speaking among themselves, they shrugged their shoulders. I began to feel isolated and disappointed.
Suddenly our translator appeared from somewhere and spoke to people and from the conversation concerning the church we understood only two words; some said Catholic and others Orthodox. We realized that nobody knew anything about the church. For them it did not exist, even though they passed by it many times each day, they had no clue as to whom it belonged. Unfortunately the question kept gnawing at me; “What is this Orthodox church doing here? Is it an Orthodox Church or not?...”
Then suddenly I remembered. Well, yes. At that time a friend of ours was here in Prenies and before coming here we had visited him and told him that we were coming here. God bless those who invented the mobile telephone. Anxiously I pressed the buttons with the numbers and then I pressed the green button.
“It’s ringing,” I said to my wife. “He is answering…”
I heard a sleepy voice answer on the other side. Afternoon is usually nap time.
“Hello, Done, good day, how are you? Wait, don’t answer, I have a question for you first. You have been to Prenies, right?”
“Yes I have,” he answered.
“Do you remember if there was an Orthodox church in Prenies then?” I asked.
“No there wasn’t one. I am sure there wasn’t one,” he replied.
“What about a mosque?” I asked.
“No, there was no mosque either,” he said.
“Was there a cemetery?” I then asked.
“Yes…” he said.
“And where was it?” I asked.
“Well, where are you now?” he asked.
“We are in Prenies. We are standing on the right side of the main road. In front of us we see a row of long buildings with wide doors and small windows up above that have iron bars in front of them. The buildings look like camp barracks and between them there is a road…” I replied.
“Those were the stores and horse stables where our people were housed. Now look in the direction of the field. You should be able to see a large number of long wooden barracks on the other side of the road…” he advised.
“I am looking but I don’t see any barracks. There is something there that looks like a playground and in the middle of it there are stakes placed into the ground on which old boards had been nailed. The place looks more like an open bazaar…” I replied.
“That’s were the barracks were. And a little to the side do you see a white house?” he asked.
“Yes I see it,” I said.
“That’s were the Administration and Party Committee were located. And at that time that was the only house built in the area, everything else was barracks, large and long stores and horse stables with large doors on the north and south side….” he said.
“Yes, I see them. They are exactly as you describe them,” I replied.
“Now, follow the road up. When you reach the last store or horse stable, turn slightly to the left… Are you there yet?” he asked.
“Yes, we are there…” I replied.
“Do you see a small hill to the right?” he asked.
“I see it,” I said.
“Go to the bottom of the hill and about ten steps further you will find the cemetery,” he instructed.
“All I see here are only single level houses…” I replied.
There was silence on the receiver... After a moment or so a long sigh and after that was Done’s voice saying: “The cemetery was there…” He hung up and that was the extent of our conversation.
It was hot… The valley slumbered in the encirclement of the surrounding mountains. It is hot here all day during the summer. They say the heat is unbearable in the summers and the winters are stone cold. Then, in those days, the frail and sick, the old, the babies and the young children suffered the most. Their salvation was the cemetery which we are now trying to find...
We brought candles with us so that we could light them at the Prenies cemetery. We knew that from the end of July 1948 to the end of October 1949 many people had died in Prenies from various ailments and diseases; the majority were old people, babies and one and two year olds. So there must have been a cemetery in which they were buried. These were our people and the cemetery in which they were buried is our cemetery, even though it is located in a foreign country.
We lit candles for the souls of those who sixty years ago lost their lives here. For those whose destiny was met with eternal darkness. We lit candles to revive the memory of them and keep them from being forgotten... We wanted to light candles in the Orthodox church but how were we going to find the priest or someone who had a key?
“Why don’t we go to the café,” suggested the interpreter, “maybe we will find someone who knows more.” We agreed; it was a good idea.
There were three tables under the branches of a grapevine and past that there was a door, probably leading to the kitchen. One of the four men sitting around the tables got up, took a few steps towards us and greeted us with a big smile and wide open arms as if he had known us for a long time. He invited us to one of the empty tables. The man kept talking with a wide smile on his face and we, understanding nothing that he said, smiled back and shook our heads in agreement. We gathered he was the owner of the café and did not look a day over thirty. Our interpreter struck up a conversation with him. I think he explained to him who we were and what we were doing here.
Before sitting us down, the man swatted the flies off the table with his not so white towel, turned towards us and, with the help of the translator, asked for our order.
“Coffee please,” I ordered.
“Hurie, vale tria kafedakia,” (Bring us three coffees.) ordered the translator in Greek.
“Milate Elinika?” (do you speak Greek?) I asked in Greek.
“Yes I do, very well. I am also teaching my wife to speak Greek. We are planning to go to Greece in the fall to work there. We want to build a house and we need the money. I worked in the Peloponnesus for twelve years. And you, from what my friend tells me, are from Macedonia, right?” the man asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“You have big problems with the Greeks, right? It is difficult to live with Greeks. I know them very well. They are not honest people. They are big liars. I am familiar with them. I worked like a slave for my bosses. But what are you going to do when you have obligations. You will work as a slave for your bread… Let them be what they are, that’s how God made them, even God endures them. He puts up with them cursing His Son and swearing at his Son’s Mother… Every second word is a swear word… Please madam, forgive me, it is not decent of me to talk about these things…” he said to my wife.
“Tell me,” I asked, “since when have you lived in Prenies?”
“This is my second year. Why do you call it Prenies? This place is called Perrenias, a name which it got from the many slopes found in the mountains on the west side of the settlement. ‘Prii’ means slope and Perrenias means many slopes. Earlier the place was called ‘Domozdroba’ and in the fifties it began to develop as a town,” said the man.
“Tell me when was the church built here?” I asked.
“The church and the mosque that are built on the same street, on the opposite side, were built after communism fell. If you want to know more we will call the church custodian and he will be able to tell you more. I don’t go to church or to the mosque. In communist Albania we were all forced to become atheists and since then I have remained that way. But please allow me to finish. You know the large field behind us, the one by the road that spreads east and south and slopes down the mountains? Well that field was owned by a Beg before the war. I don’t remember his name. The Italian government purchased the part of the field that we are standing on in the thirties of the last century. This was the most unproductive part of the field, which Italy purchased to use for 99 years and they built a military base. The only thing that remains of that base today are those ugly buildings which some say were stores and others say were stables. Everything built around them and over the road was built on usurped land. Last year Italians came and said that this place was theirs and that we Albanians were building our houses on stolen land. We said that there were another 30 years before the 99 years expired, so until then we were staying right here,” concluded the man.
While the man spoke I could not help but think about our people stuck in those stables and stores, now eaten away by the elements and time.
The barracks were gone. The place where they stood was now flat and in their place were poles stuck in the ground on which rotting old boards had been nailed. Those grounds today are the market place of Perrenias. Above them are the stores and horse stables. They had been painted with bluish and white paint, which in some places had eroded by the passing of time and in other places had cracked, exposing old layers of paint in a variety of colours.
Underneath one of the layers, I could see, but just barely, an outline of painted letters. I used a piece of glass to scratch away and under the paint I exposed the letter “Д” painted with pale red paint. The letter “Д” is a Cyrillic letter. At that moment it seemed like cold drops of sweat were dripping from my forehead. The letters were at chest height so I began to scratch even faster, exposing more of the pale red paint. I continued scratching for another thirty or forty centimeters until the entire Macedonian word “БРАТСТВО” (BROTHERHOOD) was exposed. There was no doubt that both words were part of a slogan and most likely remnants of the then very popular slogans with which “bratsvo i edinstvo” (brotherhood and unity) was promoted between the Macedonian and Greek people.
I went and got a larger piece of glass from a pile of broken glass and continued to scratch a bit higher. I scratched an entire strip and under a brown layer I noticed a bit of white paint. I realized that the wall has been painted over at least three times. I again began to scratch from right to left and under the brown layer I found a pale red line and a dot under it. It looked like an exclamation mark. I scratched further and after exposing more of the wall the letters : “а, т, а, д, е, б, о, п...” appeared in that order from right to left.
I took a step back and looked at the exposed letters. I read from left to right and noticed that they spelled: “победата” (victory). I wiped the sweat off my forehead and face with my sleeve and continued to scratch until I had exposed all the writing to the last letter. The last letter turned out to be the first letter in the slogan, which to this day, sixty years later, was hidden under three layers of paint.
I then stepped back and read: “Сите на оружје! Се за победата!” (All to arms! Everything for Victory!)
I stepped to the side and sat on a half rotting stump and stared at the slogan. After being silent for a long time I wondered out loud: “How many more walls are adorned by this kind of slogan, put there to invite the exiled to battle?
Here in Prenies, preserved under layers of paint, are the slogans, a testament to the times, when every day they nourished the trust and encouraged the spirit... of a war that extended all the way here, calling and beckoning... They collected all who were capable, and then they collected all who were less capable and after that they waited for the young to grow so that they too could be collected and sent to battle. They collected people, property and food by force and using the slogan “Everything for victory.”Leave a comment:
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Почитувани,
Ве известувам дека од 17ти до 23ти октомври ке бидам во посета на Канада. Планот за посета е следен:
18ти (четврток) - Трибина со македонците во Црквата Свети Наум Охридски во Хамилтон од 18:30 часот.
19ти (петок) - Трибина со македонците во Црквата Света Недела во Ајакс од 19:00 часот.
20ти (сабота) - Трибина во Црквата Свети Илија во Мисисага од 12:00 часот.
20ти (сабота) - Присус...
тво и обракање на банкетот по повод 50 годишнината од градењето на Црквата Свети Климент Охридски во Торонто од 18:30 часот.
21ви (недела) - Трибина во Црквата Свети Димитрија Солунски во Маркам од 12:00 часот.
21ви (недела) - Трибина во Црквата Свети Никола во Виндзор од 19:00 часот.
22ри (понеделник) - Трибина во Црквата Света Богородица во Кембриџ од 19:00 часот.
Ве замолувам да ги искористите следните неколку денови и да ја пренесете посетата на вашите пријатели, организации и медиуми. На трибините ке се дискутира за случувањата во Република Македонија, постапките окулу вадењето на македонски пасош и државјанство и други проекти на кои работиме во Македонија.
Срдечнo
Rev. Ilija Donev
[email protected]
(905) 502 - 0495
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MHRMI Met with Canadian Foreign Affairs, Called on Canada to Denounce Name Negotiations
Македонската верзија е подолу (Macedonian version below)
Toronto, Canada (October 10, 2012) - On October 1, 2012, MHRMI President Bill Nicholov, MHRMI member Chris Balkos (Balkovski), and Vinozhito member Dimitri Ioannou (Jovanov) met with senior members of Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada. Among the topics discussed were human rights abuses against Macedonians in Greece, Bulgaria, Albania, and throughout the Balkans, the denial of entry into Greece to Canadian-Macedonians, Greece's embassy and consulates denying assistance to Canadian-Macedonians, and Canada's position regarding the Republic of Macedonia and the name negotiations.
MHRMI called on Canada to condemn Greece, Bulgaria, Albania and other countries' persecution of Macedonians, and to take concrete steps in ensuring that it ends or force these countries to face repercussions. Specifically, we called for Canada to publicly denounce the name negotiations and support immediate international, not just bilateral, recognition of Macedonia. We expressed our expectation that countries which have recognized Macedonia must fully support its name and we denounced the United States and Western Europe's hypocrisy in calling for a "compromise" or "solution" to the so-called name dispute.
MHRMI pointed out that there is no human right more basic than that of self-identification, and, ironically, that it is Greece's position on the very use of the word Macedonia that has changed in the past 25 years and that Macedonia and Macedonians have always been known as such. Greece initiated the "name dispute" in order to deny the existence and persecution of its large Macedonian minority.
We highlighted Canada's international reputation of leadership in the field of human rights, and called for it to be showcased in Canada's denouncement of the name negotiations and condemnation of those countries that persecute Macedonians.
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Macedonian Human Rights Movement International (MHRMI) has been active on human and national rights issues for Macedonians and other oppressed peoples since 1986. For more information: www.mhrmi.org, www.twitter.com/mhrmi, www.facebook.com/mhrmi, [email protected], +1 416-850-7125.
Show your support for Macedonian human rights by joining the MHRMI Human Rights Fund. Your donation will go directly to funding vital Macedonian human rights activities in the Balkans.
ММДЧП оствари средба со канадските министерства за надворешни работи, побара од Канада да ги осуди преговорите за името
Торонто, Канада (10 октомври, 2012) - На 1 октомври 2012 година, претседателот на ММДЧП Бил Николов, членот на ММДЧП Крис Балкос (Балковски) и членот на Виножито Димитри Иоану (Јованов) остварија средба со високи функционери на канадските министерства за надворешни работи и за меѓународна трговија. Покрај останатото, тема на разговор беше и кршењето на човековите права на Македонците во Грција, Бугарија, Албанија и воопшто на Балканот, забраната за влез во Грција на канадски Македонци, одбивањето да се помогне на канадски Македонци од страна на грчката амбасада и грчките конзулати, како и позицијата на Канада за Република Македонија и преговорите за името.
ММДЧП побара од Канада да го осуди прогонувањето на Македонците од страна на Грција, Бугарија, Албанија и да преземе конкретни чекори кои што или ќе стават крај на таквиот нивни однос, или да создадат услови со кои што овие земји ќе се соочат со последици. Попрецизно, беше побарано Канада јавно да повика прекин на преговорите за името и веднаш да даде цврста поддршка за меѓународно, а не само билатерално, признавање на Македонија. Од страна на ММДЧП беше искажана надеж дека земјите кои што ја признаа Македонија мора целосно да го поддржат нејзиното име, а беше упатена и критика за лицемерието на САД и земјите од Западна Европа кои што повикуваат на „компромис" или „изнаоѓање решение" на т.н. спор за името.
ММДЧП истакна дека не постои поважно човеково право од правото на самоидентификација, а иронијата да биде поголема, Грција го има сменето своето употребување на зборот Македонија во последните 25 години, и дека Македонија и Македонците отсекогаш биле препознавани токму по тие термини. Грција го иницираше „спорот за името", со намера да го негира постоењето и да го прогонува големото македонско малцинство во нивната земја.
Од страна на ММДЧП беше потенциран меѓународниот углед на Канада и нејзиното влијание во полето на човековите права и беше побарано Канада да го изнесе својот став за преговорите за името и да изрече осуда за оние земји кои прогонуваат Македонци.
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Македонското меѓународно движење за човекови права (ММДЧП) активно работи на полето на човекови и национални права на Македонците и другите обесправени народи од основување 1986 година. За повеќе информации: www.mhrmi.org, twitter.com/mhrmi, facebook, [email protected], 1-416-850-7125.
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ЧЕТВРТ ПОВИК
За кандидирање на кандидати за
Претседател на Задгранични комитети на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ
Согласно одлуката на ИК на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ, а врз основа на Статутот на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ се објавува Повик за кандидирање на кандидати за Претседатели на Задгранични комитети на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ во:
- ЗК Бризбејн;
- ЗК Лос Анџелес;
- ЗК Подгорица;
- ЗК Бон; - ЗК Франкфурт; - ЗК Солун;
- ЗК Џилонг;
- ЗК Филаделфија;
- ЗК Загреб;
- ЗК Минхен; - ЗК Белград; - ЗК Атина;
- ЗК Оукланд;
- ЗК Бафало;
- ЗК Букурешт;
- ЗК Хаг; - ЗК Ниш; - ЗК Пустец;
- ЗК Рочестер;
- ЗК Будимпешта;
- ЗК Гронинген; - ЗК Јабука; - ЗК Требиште;
- ЗК Сиракјуз;
- ЗК Истамбул;
- ЗК Копенхаген; - ЗК Драгаш; - ЗК Тирана;
- ЗК Монтреал;
- ЗК Грац;
- ЗК Гетеборг; - ЗК Софија; - ЗК Корча;
- ЗК Москва; - ЗК Благоевград; - ЗК Поградец;
Напомена: Доколку вашиот град не е наведен на листата ве охрабруваме да го пријавите вашиот интерес за вклучување на активностите на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ во дијаспората. Како партија ќе најдеме начин за активирање и ангажирање на сите Македонци кои имаат желба да помогнат во остварувањето на целите на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ.
Кандидатите треба да се членови или поддржувачи на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ во моментот на доставување на кандидатурата. За поднесување на кандидатурата не се потребни потписи, туку доставување на биографија и програма за работа.
По доставувањето на кандидатурата, односно биографијата и програмата, секој кандидат дополнително ќе биде контактиран од седиштето на ВМРО-ДПМНЕ и со него ќе биде извршен разговор.
Сите кандидати имаат подеднакви шанси да бидат избрани, зависно од личните квалитети, успесите во минатото и визијата за иднината. Секој пријавен кандидат ќе биде третиран со строга дискреција, со цел за заштита на кандидатите кои нема да бидат избрани.
Потребните документи треба да се достават најдоцна до 30.10.2012 година, на следната е-пошта: [email protected]
ВМРО-ДПМНЕ го задржува правото да ги провери податоците доставени во биографијата и прашалникот на секој кандидат.
По завршувањето на процедурата на избор секој кандидат има право да ја подигне неговата документација, односно прашалникот и биографијата, по негово сопствено барање.
Со почит
ВМРО-ДПМНЕLeave a comment:
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On the Road of Time – Chapter 12 – Part 2
By Petre Nakovski
Translated and edited by Risto Stefov
[email protected]
October 14, 2012
Of all the places our people could have gone to save themselves, they had to come here, to this godforsaken place. Bitter, ruined, restrained – very old men, widows of six wars, exhausted sick women, loners, nursing mothers and among them, sick men and men enslaved by their own fear.
A cloud of dust gathered over Prenies twice a day. Once early in the morning and again in late evening when a column of trucks passed by. If the dust rose from down below where the ovens were, the trucks would be carrying recuperating fighters from the hospitals in Elbasan, Tirana, Durres and Suk. With them they would also be carrying food and ammunition for those on the battlefields of Vicho and Gramos. The trucks would transport the food and ammunition to the border and from there it would be carried to the mountains on the shoulders and backs of people, donkeys, horses and mules.
When the valley was filled with grey fog, the trucks would reach the place where the ovens were with their lights on. And when the grey light given off by the first rays of the morning sun began to shimmer on the tops of the surrounding mountains, the trucks would begin their snaking downhill descent from above the hill, making their way down to Prenies. Descending down the cobblestone road they would carry wounded; bleeding, moaning and cursing...
Twice a day the words ‘they are coming’ would be heard over Prenies and every day, morning and evening, the people would pour out of the barracks and horse stables moaning, groaning, disturbed and disheartened and run to the road. And the closer the column of trucks got, the greater was the hustle and the surge pouring out of the barracks and horse stables and running towards the road. People treading over the beaten ground, running from all sides and calling, calling, pushing and falling. And in the loud cries nothing was heard, not a name and not a surname, only ‘oh-oh-oh-a-a-a-!,’ weeping, crying, praying, cursing and swearing. Everyone was calling and searching for their closest, their most beloved, their dearest...
Everyone was looking for their closest: they ran towards those old Czech and Italian trucks which did not want to stop, pushing each other, hitting one another. Those who fell lay there like ninepins, trampled by the rush… they did this day after day, twice a day. Every evening a pile of women and old men ran behind the trucks all the way down to the ovens, to the first guardhouse, to the first bunker behind which the road to Elbasan extended. They stopped there… and left behind, lying on straw mats in the barracks, were crying infants, grunting, groaning and moaning, uncertain of their life and existence.
Every day they ran behind the column of trucks snaking its way up hill… at the crossroads, bayonets mounted on rifles shone under the first rays of the morning sun. The surge stopped there and the trucks quickly disappeared around the last corner. The old people waved at the column and then crossed themselves. They blessed those returning from the hospitals and heading for the battlefields... Some, with tears in their eyes, would mumble: ‘May their scars remain healthy…’
In silence, with black headkerchiefs in their hands, they bid farewell to those headed for battle. After that, slowly they made their way back down but would not immediately return to their straw mats in their barracks and horse stables. Sorrowfully they would search the road, the ditches, the tall grass, the shrubs, looking for letters that the trucks may have dropped. And then, in the barracks and horse stables, from dusk to dawn and from dawn to dusk there would be constant weeping and wailing. Shadows would be seen moving from barracks to barracks. Relatives gathering together to mourn and weep for those who had lost their lives in the battlefields of Gramos and Vicho, Epirus and Thessaly and for those who were badly wounded and died in hospitals in foreign lands... And when their cries and tears had dulled their pain, they would whimper in the dark, muttering words, as if those they spoke to were still alive...
On the hard soil, on the road on which, with the birth and death of the day, black turmoil poured, grass did not grow; everything was stamped down. For the sorrowful, beaten and tormented, living in the barracks and horse stables, lying on straw mats, there was only one-hundred centimetres of space available for each person. Above them there were long, half rotten, beams and underneath them were cobblestones on which, who knows for how many centuries, horse urine had been absorbed. The healthy wished the sick a quick and painless death - to save themselves from their own agony and to save the healthy from being tormented.
Even though the place was well guarded between the two checkpoints where the trucks passed, and in addition to people being frightened and intimidated, there were always the few who secretly slipped out and climbed the summit. And from there they would look at the large bodies of water and the mountains and grey mountain peaks all around them and then whisper to each other with fingers pointing: ‘Look, over there, that’s my house.’
Every day here in Prenies, with burning desire, they waited to hear the words: ‘People, come out, we are going home!’ This is how they always spoke: ‘People give, people bring, people be patient, people persist.’ Every day they waited for the day when a voice would call out: ‘People, we are returning to our homes.’ They always had their belongings ready, waiting to be tossed over their shoulder, waiting for the long trek home.”
“That’s how it was,” said my mother Fimka, wiping a tear, running down her face with the edge of her black headkerchief… She threw a sad glance in front of her and after a long silent pause, with a heavy sigh and motioning with her hand, said: “There, along the road, after the trucks left, every day we searched in the shrubs and grass looking for letters, one woman found a letter. She quickly hid it in her chest, the only place they would not look when they searched us. We got someone to read the letter during the night by moonlight. The letter said the children from so and so villages were located in ‘Duresi’ (Durres). That’s all it said. Not who wrote it and not who dropped it. That’s all it said, nothing more. It did not even say what ‘Duresi’ was, was it a city, a country, was it a village?... Only ‘Duresi’. So we began to ask what was this ‘Duresi’ but we did it in a secret way and we only asked those we trusted. No one knew. What do you expect from people that had never travelled? In Prenies we were stuck in a chicken coop, getting out during the day and returning at night. That’s all we knew. One night we sent an old man to Shkumbin. That’s an Albanian village outside of Prenies. We begged him to go and ask an Albanian what ‘Duresi’ was and where it was located. The old man went and returned at dawn. He said ‘Duresi’ was a provincial town, a big provincial town near the sea.
Oh my God, we began to yell, shake our arms in the air and pull our hairs out crying. If our children were near the sea, surely they would drown. Three or four women got together and asked the old man to go back to the Albanian village and ask how far it was to ‘Duresi’ and how to get there. After much begging the old man did go and when he came back he said: ‘Duresi is a provincial town located about ten days travel from here by foot.’ It was not too far we thought. After all we traveled for an entire month on foot and fully loaded with our belongings, what’s ten days compared to that, especially for a man? We decided to send a man, but whom? We found ourselves in a big dilemma about who to ask. It had to be someone who wanted to see his own children. In the end we decided to ask Traiko. He had strong legs and knew a few Albanian words, so he would be able to find his way if he got lost on the way.
All week we collected small pieces of bread, breaking pieces off the bread they gave us in the food line. Piece by piece we filled a sack full of bread and dried marmalade. We got the trusted old man to whisper instructions into Traiko’s ear on how to get there. ‘First you must pass by Librazhd and stay along the side of the road, if you find a truck, you can go by truck and when you arrive near a large city called Elbasan, take the upper, I mean lower road. If you take the upper road you will be heading to Tirana, if you take the lower road, along level ground, you will arrive in Duresi and there you can ask where they have many children.’ This is what they told the old man and this is what he told Traiko.
Traiko left during the night. Many days and nights had passed since he left and there was no sign of Traiko; no one knew where he was. His wife became very upset yelling, screaming and cursing, wondering how she was going to live and survive without him. ‘Traiko my dear, oh Traiko why did you leave me alone, what am I going to do without you, being without you is like being blind,’ she screamed out loud and cried and cursed.
We all began to think of the worst. Something terrible must have happened to him. You never know. This is a foreign country, many things are unfamiliar, travel would be difficult for a man who has never travelled… When six weeks passed, we decided we should send Ilio. Ilio was familiar with travel, before the Great War Ilio used to go to pechalba (migrant work) in Thessaly. He had worked on the farms in Thessaly during the spring and summer ploughing, sowing and harvesting crops and after that he used to travel to Thrace to make coal.
Ilio went to Duresi and two weeks later he returned. He told us that he found Duresi and the place where the children were and that several times during the night he secretly met with Evgenia, the oldest woman responsible for the children. She told him that all the children were alive and well, that they were all clothed, clean and well-fed. She told him to give her regards to all the mothers, fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers and to wish them all well and to tell them not to worry. She also sent regards to all from all there.
After many months of waiting and wondering, this was great news for all. It brought much happiness to the mothers. People were going in and out of Ilio’s barracks every day. Every mother wanted to ask details about her own child or children. Traiko’s wife too stopped her yelling, crying and cursing. Ilio whispered in her ear that Traiko was alive and well and that he was hiding in Duresi and secretly visiting the children and that when times changed and things improved, he promised he would return… That’s how it was…
One day the visits and conversations ended. Some high ranking officials came to Prenies and called all the men to a meeting. They spoke to them about the great battles and how our side was always winning but to shorten the war and bring victory faster they needed their help. The officials spoke for two or three days about these great battles and took turns visiting the barracks. There they found crippled and maimed people, some holding their hip, some holding their back, some walking with a cane, some bracing themselves against the wall, some coughing badly, some lying on straw mats, some dashing for the toilets...
When the officials saw the condition of those men, they decided that battles could not be fought with these kinds of men and victory could not be achieved. They found only five men capable of delivering victory, Ilio was one of them who the officials took with them when they left. Almost four months later, during a cold, snowy winter day, Ilio returned. They sent him to Prenies back to his wife because he was no longer needed. His right sleeve was hanging empty…
That day our trucks did not come twice as they did many times before. I call them ‘our trucks’ because they carried our young men and women from and to the battlefields. They brought our wounded and maimed young fighters to the hospitals and when they recovered, the trucks took them back, back to the battlefields. Sometimes the trucks brought one or two officials, clean and shaven, boots shining and cheeks glowing red. They came to Prenies to let the men know that victory was near and for victory to be even nearer they needed to give, they needed them to give it their all, but all these men had to give was their lives and the rags they wore on their backs.
Our sheep and goats were grazing up in the mountains, being looked after by very old Macedonian men hired by the Party. Our larger animals were strays, left alone out in the fields and meadows and no one knew their number, how many were sick, how many had died and how many were still alive. Being deserted their numbers surely had declined. People were saying that some had died from sickness and others had been killed by wolves. But the truth was something different all together…
One of the women, one time, went to an Albanian village and there she saw her two oxen harnessed under a yoke. The sheep and goats, they too found themselves in the yards of Albanian villagers. Resourceful people sold the animals to the Albanian villagers and all the while they were telling us that they took them to the Party and were returned to the front for our fighters to have something to eat. There were people who secretly left the complex to collect tea in the mountains and recognized their own goats and sheep grazing among the Albanian livestock. We had no problem if our livestock ended up in the cauldrons of the Partisans. It was wrong however for it to be in the yards of the Albanian villagers. And as such we lost everything we had taken from our homes, everything we had managed to bring with us all the way to Prenies. Surely gold coins were slipped into someone’s hand…
And this picture, this view of running behind the trucks, the crying, the pain, the yelling are all experiences buried in my memory and now, being reminded of them, they are coming back like a wave, like a swarm, they spring to life, they burn… they are strung like pearls; word beside word, cry beside cry, moan beside moan, tear beside tear, sigh beside sigh, all bound together by a chain, pressing, squeezing, scratching and hurting...
That memory weighs on me, it squeezes me, it chokes me and makes my soul ache...”
We turned right from the main road and parked the car under the shade of a willow tree, and, with tears in our eyes, went for a tour. Both the left and right side of the street were laid with a blanket of fresh asphalt. There was a whole line of long buildings standing in a row finished with a grey-white façade. Up above there were square windows covered with iron bars and below were large crooked doors. These looked more like stores than stables. Among them were also small houses. In front and underneath each large colourful tent were discarded plastic coca cola and a variety of colourful juice bottles. There were also stacks of empty packages from smuggled sweets and candy.
We decided to go up the street. Children ran in front and all around us curiously inquiring as to who we were. We seemed strange to them because they had never seen us before. We stopped at a place that resembled a café. There were two tables and about ten plastic chairs. A young lady in her early twenties was waving a broken mulberry tree branch left and right chasing annoying flies. From her movements and from her smile we gathered that she was inviting us to the café. She did not speak any other languages besides Albanian so we stood there mute. But gesturing did help a little. Then a young man in his twenties came to assist. He said he gathered that we were from Skopje because of our car license plates. He told us that he spoke a bit of Macedonian but was fluent in Greek and Italian. He had learned these languages while working in those countries.
“Are you looking for someone?” he asked.
“Yes we are but we prefer to find someone older,” I replied
“Right now I will bring you someone,” he said and a few minutes later he came back with an old man.
“Are you from here, from Prenies?” I asked the old man after we greeted each other.
“Currently I live here in Prenies, but originally I am from a neighbouring village behind these mountains,” said the old man while gesturing east with his head.
“When did you move to Prenies?” I asked.
“When Enver Hoxha collected us and brought us here to build the factory and the rail line to Pogradets,” answered the old man.
“And where do you live?” I asked.
“Over there, in the last houses, behind the mosque. That’s where they relocated us,” answered the old man.
“What about these houses?” I asked while pointing at the stores or horse stables whatever they may be.
“In those days the army was located there. There were a lot of troops here then. They were guarding the border and us,” replied the old man.
“What about before that?” I asked.
“Before that we were at home in our village. I told you they brought us here to build the factory and rail line and to dig chromium…” answered the old man.
“Do you recall if there was a cemetery located near here?” I asked.
“Yes I do. There were two cemeteries here. Up there, at the corner, where they are digging now, above the road there was a cemetery where they buried Italians. The other was where they buried Albanians but on the other side,” answered the old man.
“Before they brought you here, were there any other people here?” I asked.
“People? No, there were no ordinary people, only a lot of soldiers…” answered the old man.
As we continued our conversation another man joined us. He looked like an older man from the wrinkles on his face.
“Pliak, how many years did God give you?” asked our translator.
They all laughed out loud at the question.
“What God are you talking about? Hoxha uprooted us and Him from our minds and hearts. When someone mentions God, we go silent and look around. We hope no one from the security services is around. It’s a habit. Then, in those days, they even pushed our children to spy on us. That’s what they were teaching them,” concluded the other old man.
“And today?” I asked.
“Today? You can say whatever you want and no one will scold you or say anything bad to you, or look at you strangely. That’s democracy… And you and the lady, are you looking for something?” asked the other old man.
“Yes we are. We are looking for a cemetery,” I replied.
“What? Did someone close to you die on the road?” asked the first old man.
“Yes, many died on the road and on other roads here in Prenies and we want to know where they were buried,” I said.
“And when was that?” asked the old man.
“It was during 1948 and 1949,” I answered.
“That was a long time ago. I don’t know if you could find anyone here at Perrenias that knows such things. And who were the dead?” asked the old man.
“They were our people, Macedonians…” I answered.
“And what were they, your Macedonians, doing here?” asked the old man.
“The war brought them here,” I answered.
“The war, but which war?” asked the old man.
“The war in Greece…” I answered.
“Oh, a long time ago when I was back in my village I heard that there was a war there and I remember that after that we had to give some of our wheat, rye and corn. But I never heard of your people being here in Perrenias. No one living in Perrenias today is a native. We are all immigrants. Maybe in the villages up the mountain there may be people who might know. But that was a long time ago. People have died, people have aged and their memories have been diluted. Go up the mountain, maybe there you will find someone who remembers. But not with this kind of car, the road is no good for this kind of car. It’s best to go on foot,” advised the old man.
The old man finished drinking his coffee, greeted us with both hands and sluggishly walked away up the lane. Then suddenly he paused for a moment, turned around and gave us a hand signal to approach him.
“Ask the people from these houses. When they were digging foundations for their houses they said that they found bones. Ask them. Maybe the cemetery is under their houses,” suggested the old man.
“Yes,” said the woman, “here we found many bones from people. It looks like the place was a cemetery…”
Further up a bent over old man approached us and asked:
“Are you the people asking about the cemetery? Yes there was a cemetery. Over there…” said the bent over old man while pointing with his cane.
We took the bent over old man along with our interpreter to our car and drove to where the cemetery used to be.
“Right here, the cemetery was at this place,” said the bent over old man.
The place did not look like it ever was a cemetery. We saw a wide three lane road marked with white lines. Above the turn was a hill.
“It seems to me that the cemetery was dug up with the excavation for widening the road… the cemetery was not ours (Albanian), it was Italian. Over there where the road widens that too was part of the Italian cemetery. Soldiers were buried there. Last year people came from Italy and took two truck loads of bones in boxes. And over there, on the other side of the hill there was a cemetery, and to whom it belonged I don’t know,” said the bent over old man.
“And is there anyone very old here in the Perrenias...” I asked.
“You will not find anyone older than me. Don’t waste your time. It was the way it was but now it has passed. The times are different now. As you can see people are building houses, widening their yards, opening cafés and trying to make a life for themselves, they don’t care about any old cemeteries. They dig and build wherever they can find space. The people have become greedy…” concluded the bent over old man.
I thanked the bent over old man for his help and, without mentioning God, I wished him many more years, one-hundred-and-one years, and then placed a box of cigarettes and a bag of coffee in his hand. He placed the cigarettes in his chest pocket and took a whiff of the bag, then smiled meekly and said:
“There is no need. Now we have all kinds of things, as much as you want. People bring things from everywhere… But if it is given from the heart then I accept it with all my heart.”
Our interpreter then translated:
“Pliak, the man thanks you and says that you told him many things…”
“Well, you, I told him… I told him what I know,” he said in a disappointed tone of voice and walked away sluggishly.
And as such they took us from place to place to where once there were cemeteries and everywhere they took us the places were empty.Leave a comment:
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