Risto Stefov - Articles, Translations & Collaborations

[George S.]

"Houston, we have a problem!" (Yugoslavian space program) trailer



"Houston, we have a problem!" (Yugoslavian space program) trailer - YouTube

Docudrama revealing one of the biggest secrets of space race during cold war - Yugoslavian space programme.

"Yugoslavs made rapid development based on unknown diaries of Yugoslav space pioneer Herman Potočnik - Noordung after 2nd world war. Technical solutions described in Potocnik's unpublished papers were the basis for establishing secret Yugoslav space programme in 1948, after Josip Broz Tito's conflict with Stalin.

In late 1960, CIA discovered that Yugoslavia already had an operational space-flight technology.
In March 1961 Yugoslavia secretly sold complete space programme to USA.

In May 1961, Kennedy announced USA chose to go to the Moon.
In this documentary we will reveal how Tito built the biggest secret underground space centre in
Europe in army base Željava with code name "Object 505".

Researched and written by Boštjan Virc

Directed and co-written by Žiga Virc

Production Studio Virc

Object 505 footage:

http://www.zeljava-lybi.com

http://www.mycity-military.com

[George S.]

The Global Intelligence Files

Today, Monday 27 February, WikiLeaks began publishing The Global Intelligence Files – more than five million emails from the Texas-headquartered "global intelligence" company Stratfor. The emails date from between July 2004 and late December 2011. They reveal the inner workings of a company that fronts as an intelligence publisher, but provides confidential intelligence services to large corporations, such as Bhopal’s Dow Chemical Co., Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon and government agencies, including the US Department of Homeland Security, the US Marines and the US Defense Intelligence Agency. The emails show Stratfor’s web of informers, pay-off structure, payment-laundering techniques and psychological methods, for example :

"[Y]ou have to take control of him. Control means financial, sexual or psychological control... This is intended to start our conversation on your next phase" – CEO George Friedman to Stratfor analyst Reva Bhalla on 6 December 2011, on how to exploit an Israeli intelligence informant providing information on the medical condition of the President of Venezuala, Hugo Chavez.

The material contains privileged information about the US government’s attacks against Julian Assange and WikiLeaks and Stratfor’s own attempts to subvert WikiLeaks. There are more than 4,000 emails mentioning WikiLeaks or Julian Assange. The emails also expose the revolving door that operates in private intelligence companies in the United States. Government and diplomatic sources from around the world give Stratfor advance knowledge of global politics and events in exchange for money. The Global Intelligence Files exposes how Stratfor has recruited a global network of informants who are paid via Swiss banks accounts and pre-paid credit cards. Stratfor has a mix of covert and overt informants, which includes government employees, embassy staff and journalists around the world.

The material shows how a private intelligence agency works, and how they target individuals for their corporate and government clients. For example, Stratfor monitored and analysed the online activities of Bhopal activists, including the "Yes Men", for the US chemical giant Dow Chemical. The activists seek redress for the 1984 Dow Chemical/Union Carbide gas disaster in Bhopal, India. The disaster led to thousands of deaths, injuries in more than half a million people, and lasting environmental damage.

Stratfor has realised that its routine use of secret cash bribes to get information from insiders is risky. In August 2011, Stratfor CEO George Friedman confidentially told his employees : "We are retaining a law firm to create a policy for Stratfor on the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act. I don’t plan to do the perp walk and I don’t want anyone here doing it either."

Stratfor’s use of insiders for intelligence soon turned into a money-making scheme of questionable legality. The emails show that in 2009 then-Goldman Sachs Managing Director Shea Morenz and Stratfor CEO George Friedman hatched an idea to "utilise the intelligence" it was pulling in from its insider network to start up a captive strategic investment fund. CEO George Friedman explained in a confidential August 2011 document, marked DO NOT SHARE OR DISCUSS : "What StratCap will do is use our Stratfor’s intelligence and analysis to trade in a range of geopolitical instruments, particularly government bonds, currencies and the like". The emails show that in 2011 Goldman Sach’s Morenz invested "substantially" more than $4million and joined Stratfor’s board of directors. Throughout 2011, a complex offshore share structure extending as far as South Africa was erected, designed to make StratCap appear to be legally independent. But, confidentially, Friedman told StratFor staff : "Do not think of StratCap as an outside organisation. It will be integral... It will be useful to you if, for the sake of convenience, you think of it as another aspect of Stratfor and Shea as another executive in Stratfor... we are already working on mock portfolios and trades". StratCap is due to launch in 2012.

The Stratfor emails reveal a company that cultivates close ties with US government agencies and employs former US government staff. It is preparing the 3-year Forecast for the Commandant of the US Marine Corps, and it trains US marines and "other government intelligence agencies" in "becoming government Stratfors". Stratfor’s Vice-President for Intelligence, Fred Burton, was formerly a special agent with the US State Department’s Diplomatic Security Service and was their Deputy Chief of the counterterrorism division. Despite the governmental ties, Stratfor and similar companies operate in complete secrecy with no political oversight or accountability. Stratfor claims that it operates "without ideology, agenda or national bias", yet the emails reveal private intelligence staff who align themselves closely with US government policies and channel tips to the Mossad – including through an information mule in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, Yossi Melman, who conspired with Guardian journalist David Leigh to secretly, and in violation of WikiLeaks’ contract with the Guardian, move WikiLeaks US diplomatic cables to Israel.

Ironically, considering the present circumstances, Stratfor was trying to get into what it called the leak-focused "gravy train" that sprung up after WikiLeaks’ Afghanistan disclosures :

"[Is it] possible for us to get some of that ’leak-focused’ gravy train ? This is an obvious fear sale, so that’s a good thing. And we have something to offer that the IT security companies don’t, mainly our focus on counter-intelligence and surveillance that Fred and Stick know better than anyone on the planet... Could we develop some ideas and procedures on the idea of ´leak-focused’ network security that focuses on preventing one’s own employees from leaking sensitive information... In fact, I’m not so sure this is an IT problem that requires an IT solution."

Like WikiLeaks’ diplomatic cables, much of the significance of the emails will be revealed over the coming weeks, as our coalition and the public search through them and discover connections. Readers will find that whereas large numbers of Stratfor’s subscribers and clients work in the US military and intelligence agencies, Stratfor gave a complimentary membership to the controversial Pakistan general Hamid Gul, former head of Pakistan’s ISI intelligence service, who, according to US diplomatic cables, planned an IED attack on international forces in Afghanistan in 2006. Readers will discover Stratfor’s internal email classification system that codes correspondence according to categories such as ’alpha’, ’tactical’ and ’secure’. The correspondence also contains code names for people of particular interest such as ’Hizzies’ (members of Hezbollah), or ’Adogg’ (Mahmoud Ahmedinejad).

Stratfor did secret deals with dozens of media organisations and journalists – from Reuters to the Kiev Post. The list of Stratfor’s "Confederation Partners", whom Stratfor internally referred to as its "Confed Fuck House" are included in the release. While it is acceptable for journalists to swap information or be paid by other media organisations, because Stratfor is a private intelligence organisation that services governments and private clients these relationships are corrupt or corrupting.

WikiLeaks has also obtained Stratfor’s list of informants and, in many cases, records of its payoffs, including $1,200 a month paid to the informant "Geronimo" , handled by Stratfor’s Former State Department agent Fred Burton.

WikiLeaks has built an investigative partnership with more than 25 media organisations and activists to inform the public about this huge body of documents. The organisations were provided access to a sophisticated investigative database developed by WikiLeaks and together with WikiLeaks are conducting journalistic evaluations of these emails. Important revelations discovered using this system will appear in the media in the coming weeks, together with the gradual release of the source documents.

http://wikileaks.org/the-gifiles.html

Here is the first article about one of the emails in the media.

In November 2011, Stratfor analysts talks about an information they gathered from their secret sources, which claims that Mossad uses local Kurdish people in Iran to blow up nuclear facilities in there and they already destroyed Iran`s nuclear capability but they also think that the western world will intensify warmongering about Iran to cover up the economical crisis and diverge people`s disturbance towards Iran.

Read on;

http://www.haaretz.com/news/diplomac...laims-1.415066

WikiLeaks' Assange to launch TV talk show

http://edition.cnn.com/2012/04/14/wo...aks/index.html

April 14, 2012
(CNN) -- WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange plans to debut a talk show, "The World Tomorrow," on Russia's state-funded television network next week.

Assange and RT, an English-language international satellite news channel, would not release the guest lineup in advance, but hinted that the first interview would be controversial.

WikiLeaks has asked followers on Twitter if they can guess the show's first guest.

"Any bets on who The World Tomorrow's first mystery guest(s) are?" it tweeted.

"You've been waiting and we've been teasing," said RT's website of the show, which will also be released online.

The talk show set for launch Tuesday is creating a stir in global media circles.

Commentators outside Russia have questioned the apparent link the show creates between Assange and the Kremlin, given RT's government-funded status.

It is unclear how or from where Assange, who is under house arrest in the United Kingdom while fighting extradition to Sweden, will present the show.

Britain's Supreme Court is weighing whether Assange should be sent to Sweden to face allegations of rape and sexual assault lodged by two women in the country.

Assange has repeatedly denied any wrongdoing.

Assange, in the online trailer, says that the experience of interviewing guests -- described by RT as opinion formers, some of them dissidents -- while under house arrest brings a different dimension to the process.
"RT is rallying a global audience of open-minded people who question what they see in mainstream media and we are proud to premiere Julian Assange's new project," Editor-in-Chief Margarita Simonyan said in a statement on the television network's website.

"We provided Julian a platform to reach the world and gave him total editorial freedom. He is absolutely the right person to bring alternative opinions to our viewers around the globe."

"The World Tomorrow" will be broadcast [simultaneously] on three RT channels, in English, Arabic and Spanish.

The WikiLeaks website for "The World Tomorrow" said Friday there would be 12 shows in total, each featuring a 26-minute edited interview.
"RT is the first broadcast licensee of the show, but has not been involved in the production process. All editorial decisions have been made by Julian Assange," the website said.

A financial blockade imposed by U.S. banks on WikiLeaks, which facilitates the anonymous leaking of secret information, has been running for about 500 days.

Next week also marks 500 days since the allegations of sexual assault were first made against Assange, WikiLeaks says.

WikiLeaks gained global fame in 2010 with the Iraq and Afghanistan war leaks, and then followed up by leaking nearly a quarter million State Department cables.

In February 2012, it began releasing 5 million e-mails it said belonged to Stratfor, a Texas-based private company that produces intelligence reports for clients.





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[George S.]

Smiljkovsko lake murder suspects transferred to Skopje Criminal Court

http://www.mia.com.mk/default.aspx?vId=93496943&lId=2

Skopje, 2 May 2012 (MIA) - Individuals arrested in police operation "Monster" have been transferred early Wednesday to the Skopje Criminal Court.



The Ministry of Interior is expected to submit criminal charges for terrorism against all those for whom there is evidence of being part of the recent massacre of the four boys and a middle-aged man near Skopje.



Twenty individuals have been detained, followers of radical Islam, mostly Macedonian nationals.



The persons have been arrested in several facilities during an operation conducted early Tuesday in Aracinovo, Suto Orizari, Cair and Cento. The Interior Ministry said they found an automatic gun, four pistols, a bomb, eight bullets for "black arrow" rifle, six bullets for grenade launcher, six frames for automatic gun, ten camouflage uniforms, seven tactical vests, a vehicle, around 10.000 euro, computers and cell phones.



Interior Minister Gordana Jankuloska said Tuesday that main motive most probably was their idea of killing in the Radical Islam and the goal was to create feeling of fear in wider public.



"The motive is their idea, belief and following the Radical Islam, which is dangerous for believers of Christianity, Muslim religion", Jankuloska said adding that some of the arrested persons fought in Afghanistan and Pakistan against NATO troops.



She said that when it comes to terrorism the victims are not always directly connected with the perpetrators or with the motive due to which the criminal act is committed.

"We have suspected that in this case it is about murder where victims are not directly connected with any of the perpetrators however the intention of the criminal act was to create feeling of insecurity and fear in wider population", Jankuloska said.



Asked by the journalists to give an assessment on the security situation in Macedonia and whether the country is facing danger from Radical Islam and other possible terrorist attacks, Jankuloska reminded that Macedonia is part of the global coalition for peace and by number of citizens making it fifth according to participation of ARM peacekeepers in mission in Afghanistan.



"And by this the Republic of Macedonia is on the side of the countries that can be potential target of Radical Islamists. We are not underestimating the situation in not a single moment and we are not excluding possibility of Radical movement of individuals or groups. Members of police, Security and Counterintelligence Bureau and Bureau for Public Security are closely monitoring the situation, we act preventively and repressively because nothing should change the way we live, in peace and coexistence of all citizens in Macedonia," Jankuloska said, adding that situation is closely monitored, there are no serious changes however this should not leave us relaxed because it is obvious that followers of Radical Islam are prepared to most gruesome criminal acts and murderers, as it was the one in Smilkovci village.



Regarding the question whether this group is behind some larger terrorist group or acted according to someone's order, Jankuloska said that additional information will be presented in the following period.



Prime Minister Nikola Gruevski was informed about the police action "monster" who visited the Ministry of Interior.



Jankuloska thanked all citizens who gave useful information, especially all policemen who worked constantly and to media that reported correctly in connection to the event.



On April 13, Filip Slavkovski, Aleksandar Nakevski, Cvetanco Acevski and Kire Trickovski, namely in their late teens and twenties, as well as Borce Stefkovski – who was a 45-year-old man, were brutally murdered on the shore near the village of Smilkovci. They were killed by automatic weapons at close range.



One day later police confirmed that "Opel Omega" vehicle found 10km from the murder site was used in the crime near Skopje village of Smilkovci. ik/sk/9:38

[George S.]

The Great Lie – Chapter 23 – Part 2



By Petre Nakovski

Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

[email protected]

May 6, 2012



During the day and until midnight, the position defended by the DAG Officer’s School was attacked nine times but the officers failed to repel the tenth attack. They were ordered to withdraw.



They gathered at the foot of Lisets, on the western side of the slope and brought with them their wounded. The field medics took over and carried the wounded to the highway where trucks, with their engines running, waited for them.



Just as they were about to evacuate, a courier arrived with a message from Command Headquarters. They were ordered to go back and counter attack the enemy. Without hesitation they returned immediately, taking long steps, reducing the distance between themselves and the enemy with every step.



The enemy fired bullets at them with both short and long machine gun bursts but they pressed on with only their heads bowed to avoid being hit. Thirsty, hungry, sleepy, they moved on ahead jumping over obstacles. Then, as they neared the enemy an order was given and quietly passed on from mouth to mouth: “Prepare your bayonet!” They crawled flat on their stomachs when they reached open space.



Then in a loud, piercing voice, the order to “Charge!” was given. They ran towards the first bunkers on the double. Quickly all machine gun and rifle fire died out. There was only cursing, yelling, heavy breathing, hitting, crying, sobbing and threatening now. The knives were out swinging and cutting. Flame and smoke bellowed from every crack. There was an unbearable stench of blood in the air. Dead bodies were everywhere…



Cut off hands, cut throats, pierced chests, pain, blood, bayonet on bayonet, knife on knife, gun barrel on gun barrel, fire, knife, swearing, pleading, lightning, blood, blood, blood, darkness, darkness… The opponent could not endure. This time Lisets, for the eleventh time, was passed on from hand to hand.



Dawn was breaking. High up in the sky there were pink clouds. Thunder was heard coming from the direction of Zherbeni where the enemy 6th Artillery Battalion was stationed. Like hail, mortars and cannon shells were hitting Lisets. Kiro stuck his head in the corner of the bunker and faded away motionless like he did not exist.



After twenty minutes of pounding, the opponent regrouped and went on the attack again. Kiro raised his head and looked through the gun hole. Hiding behind the shrubs and rocks, like in an exercise, he could see soldiers coming closer. Kiro prepared his machine gun.



“Do not fire until the order is given,” said the Commander and ordered Kiro to go across to the next bunker and take over the heavy machine gun.



“They are coming!” a quiet voice was heard saying.



The Government troops were approaching bowed low and taking short leaps. Heavy mortar fire was heard coming from Chuka Hill from where they were bombarding Lisets… Roar of cannons, echoes of machine gun fire and explosions of mortar shells were heard coming from Bigla. Low flying aircraft swooped down on Polenata, Baro and Iamata. Kulkuturia and Golinata were silent. The resistance there had died out. The shelling lasted ten minutes and after the last mortar had exploded the order to “charge” was given.



“Open fire,” the Commander yelled out loudly, in a piercing voice and its echo was lost in the bursts of machine gun fire. There was continuous and fierce fire from both sides. There were volleys of machine gun fire on both sides of Kiro’s bunker. There was smoke and the stench of strong scented gunpowder coming through the gun hole. A little further from the bunker a long and ripping squeal was heard. A man was heavily wounded and was bleeding profusely. Kiro’s legs became weak. Hand grenades exploded in front of his bunker. He came out of the bunker and, one by one he threw two hand grenades. The soldiers hiding in the bushes suddenly went quiet in their helmets. He jumped over the wounded man, took two hand grenades from a dead soldier’s belt and, lying in the trench, without looking, he threw them. He knew the enemy was only ten metres away.



To the left of him, in a loud voice the Commander yelled out: “The machine gun! The machine gun! The machine gun! Get the machine gun! Do it!”



Kiro returned to the bunker in a hurry, and turning the barrel to the left and to the right sprayed the area with long bursts of machine gun fire.



A nurse (woman carrying the wounded) brought a wounded person into the bunker. He was panting and a pool of blood was flowing from his mouth onto his hands.



“Charge with hand grenades!” yelled the Commander.



The Government soldiers were running downhill. They were being hounded by hand grenades, shorts bursts of machine gun fire and by the screams of the wounded.



The Commander ordered everyone to withdraw to the second line of defense. The three nurses gathered all the wounded. They left the dead where they lay. Hoards of flies were gathering over the congealed blood. The enemy artillery began shelling the bunkers at the first line of defense. There was a short pause. The fighters dashed to the second line of defense but before they could reach it, the enemy artillery began to shell the area. The opponent, with new and more troops resumed the attack in waves. Kiro left his heavy machine gun and began to fire with an automatic rifle belonging to a dead gunner. After firing his first burst he changed positions. He lay down behind the tall rock waiting for the helmets to arrive. Automatic rifles crackled behind his back. He turned, looked and yelled out: “Leave them, let them get closer!”



He pulled out two hand grenades from his belt and placed them in front of him. Bullets hit the stone behind which he was hiding. There was a strong grenade explosion. Bits of rock pierced his face. The gunfire went dead.



“Hey, you down there! Are you alive?!” Kiro yelled out.



There was no answer.



Twenty metres away from his position more helmets appeared. Soldiers with sleeves rolled up, wearing short pants were coming closer; they were yelling, swearing and threatening. Kiro threw a hand grenade at them and, at the moment that he was about to throw the second one, a black cloud burst in front of him, covering him in hot air, causing his ears to ring like a hundred bells. He did not hear any gunshots, just voices swearing. He felt something burning him, he tried to stand up, but the darkness became denser. He felt strong blows of rifle butts and his ribs breaking. He realized what was happening. He extended his hand to the side. He opened his eyes for a moment. He felt something warm and salty in his mouth. With his last ounce of strength he reached for his handgun. He felt new blows on his body and heard a short burst of gunfire. His arm felt hot and it slowly became numb up to the shoulder. He could see stars before his eyes. He could not feel his legs and one arm. There was now only darkness and red before his eyes. He went silent…



The promised reinforcements never arrived.
Lisets fell at noon.
Kiro, crushed and full of holes, was left to lie dead behind the stone...



Thunderous and fateful sounds covered the villages on the other side of Lisets. People piled, filling all the empty spaces along the highway, to the left and to the right.



“The front has been breached! The front has been breached!” voices called out, bringing fear and spreading it among the people. The horror grew. People were frightened and panic filled the air. It was time to flee, to run away.



Messengers on horseback were running around everywhere warning people, telling them to leave, showing them which way to take and where to go. Irritated, they spurred their horses to run through the village streets while they yelled: “Leave! Leave! The Greek army is coming! Leave now!”



With the pounding of horse hooves, for as long as the warnings lasted, like echoes repeating again and again, was the message: “Leave! Leave! The front has been breached! The Greek army is coming! They will beat you, rape you and kill you! They will hang people and burn everything! Leave now!”



The horsemen who had orders to sow the seeds of fear and horror into the people crossed over Prevalot and split up at the crossroads, one ran to Bukovik, L’k and Drenovo and the others took the road to German.



People in Prespa were gathering their most important things, from what remained, and packing them in sacks. There was yelling, screaming, pleading and crying. The roads were packed with people leaving. A woman was wailing at the top of her voice looking up and cursing the sky. Winds of fear hovered over the people spreading panic and horror, making them run. The people who passed Perovo, the narrow passage where the water flows between the two lakes, and took the road to Vineni, could see the rising smoke and flames behind them. They could also see the same horsemen who had warned them to leave, burning the wheat fields. Flames were now consuming the mature grains from which bread was made…



The thick smoke generated by the cannon and mortar fire covering the mountains and valleys was blown away by the wind and the sky had opened up. The broken stones were warmed by the summer sun. No one was allowed to travel. The hill seemed dead. They were monitoring the region with binoculars from over yonder. They were combing every bush and every stone. The slightest movement awakened the cannons and the hill was on fire again. They burned the piles of broken rock. The days in August are long. Tired, numbed, faces glued to the ground, coiled they squatted in the shallow trenches. The sun was hot and the earth was burning. The Sergeant repeated the order: “Not a single step back, hold your ground to the last one!”



Every attempt to take a new position was met with death. There was not even 300 metres to the forest behind them. It would be safer there. The space between them and the forest was bare like a shaven head. The silence and anticipation was torturing them.



The earth was baked by the sun and burned by grenades. They broke stone with their dull pickaxes. They shoveled soil and broken stone with their bare hands. Their hands were raw, bleeding and full of sores. Their bodies baked, burned and blistered with bubbles full of yellow fluid.



“The trench is too shallow!” the Commander was heard saying.



“Do you see? Look,” one of the fighters yelled. “How am I going to use these hands? How am I going to carry my ammunition? It’s best you send me to the first line… I will be more useful there.”



“Patience,” said the Commander in a gentle tone of voice. “Give yourself a day or so and this here will be the first line. Now dig…”



“How can I dig with hands like these?” the fighter opened his hands in front of the Commander.



“Dig… You can dig even with hands like that. Dig and you will see how easy it will be when the cannon shells start falling on you. Dig, dig as deep as you can so there will be a place for you to hide your head. Then you will forget the pain in your hands… Dig now…” ordered the Commander.



All night they carried water from the brook and filled the newly dug trenches. Wet, the soil softened and was easier to scoop out. They dug and dug and kept an eye on the hill to their left. All night the machine guns fired with out interruption. It was dawn. The noise of flying aircraft was heard. Moments later the hill was covered in thick black smoke. Stacks of soil and fine stones were flying in the air as bombs hit the ground. After three circles the planes left and soon after that the artillery began to fire. It seemed like there was no end. Their ears hurt from the whistling of cannon shells flying over.



“Hey, you with the turban!” said the Commander. “Get off your butt and keep on digging!”



He lifted the pickaxe and at that very moment the whistling sounds of flying shells stopped. There was a strange silence in the air. He thought he had gone deaf. It seemed to him like someone was yelling in the distance. He dropped the pickaxe and turned towards the valley. There, down there at the bottom of the hill he could see spots, spots that moved with every heartbeat, grew and came closer. The hill was quiet, waiting. The spots grew larger.



The spots were now visible to the naked eye. They were sunlight reflected off the helmets, bayonets and machine gun barrels of enemy soldiers running.



Soldiers could clearly be seen running upright in rows yelling e-e-e-… He now understood what was happening. The enemy soldiers were yelling “Forward!” He could see a second and a third row of enemy soldiers. Those in the first row were now leaning forward and seizing the bottom of the hill. But not so fast, machine gun fire was heard and the first row fell flat on the ground. The second row slowed down and the third row shortened its step.



The hill echoed. Thousands of hot bullets buried themselves into the hill entrance. How much time had passed since the fire invigorated the hill? He didn’t know but he could see the opponent withdrawing and he could hear thunder again… The hill was covered in smoke. The wind blew the smoke away. It thundered again. The cannons stopped firing. The enemy infantry charged. Bent forward soldiers made their way towards the hill all hidden in the smoke. The wind blew the smoke away. The artillery thundered again. It stopped thundering…



He watched the soldiers run uphill again and again and heard the volleys of machine gun fire and explosions of hand grenades pushing them back.



“So, the hillside is alive, our fighters are still alive...” he muttered to himself, spit on his hands, raised the pickaxe and hit the rock with all his might.

Orders came during the night to leave the hill… Before that a rider came and ordered the men to take out the mines so that those leaving could pass through safely. Those who had planted the mines unfortunately were not there and there was no one to tell them where the mines were planted. There was also no one to tell them which path was safe to take. They walked straight into the minefields ... From the 28 that were sent to defend the new positions only five returned alive...



At another location.

The Commander of the Government Second Corps gave an order to Division IX to attack well-established DAG positions at the Kosinets and Labanitsa Hills. The attacks were to take place during the night of August 11-12.



The road to the village Smrdesh passed through the Labanitsa hills and so did the highway from Korcha to Lerin. So, Division IX’s task was to destroy all resistance between the villages Labanitsa and Kosinets and take the village Smrdesh. The idea was to close the road to Mali-Madi in order to prevent resistance reinforcements from getting through.



After that Division IX was to secure the road Smrdesh-Breznitsa-Zhelevo and close the escape route from Vicho so that existing DAG units would find themselves surrounded.



In order to strengthen Division IX’s attack capability, the 42nd Infantry Brigade and two Artillery Regiments, stationed in the village Tikveni, were placed at its disposal. They were ordered to join Division IX in the morning hours of August 11th.



The column of trucks took its time slowly moving down the Chetirok-Sveta Nedela-Osheni-Dolno Papratsko road where, in Krchishta, at a designated location, it was to join up with two Battalions from the 41st Brigade.



Unfortunately Division IX arrived at its destination too late and, while attempting to deploy, was suddenly bombarded by DAG artillery stationed over Labanitsa basin near the Albanian border.



Because of the unexpected delay, Government Division IX failed to surprise the enemy. The plan was to have Division IX, in the course of the evening hours, synchronize its attacks with Brigade 41. Brigade 41 was to break through the hills that divided Kosinets and Labanitsa and take Smrdesh. Brigade 42 meanwhile was ordered to protect the left flank to the north along the Greek-Albanian border. Brigade 43 was to take the Kosinets hills. But because the artillery failed to take its positions in a timely manner, to execute a half hour bombardment, the entire plan was delayed.



The synchronized attacks were then rescheduled to commence at 21.00 hours, but the artillery again failed to execute its bombardment on time, so the attack was delayed again and did not commence until 24.00 hours.



A vicious battle followed, with opponents fighting in close proximity for approximately five hours. The battle lasted until 05.00 hours, August 12th when all attacks were suspended because Brigade 41 could not break through the resistance at the Kosinets-Labanitsa hills. At that point the Brigade was ordered to penetrate Albanian territory, enter Smrdesh from the hills west of the village Labanitsa, close the road to Albania and prevent DAG units from escaping.



Unfortunately during the Albanian border penetration the Greek Government Brigade invaded the villages Trstenik and Kapeshtina on the Albanian side of the border. Here it was met with stiff resistance from the Albanian Army, DAG Units and the armed civilian population. Greek Government forces were pushed back and withdrew from Albanian territory but not before suffering heavy casualties.



Government forces had no choice but to retreat and regroup. By noon they were again ready to go on the offensive. Then, after vicious air and artillery attacks on DAG positions, the three Division IX Brigades launched their attacks at 21.00 hours, August 12th. But, even with their renewed vigour, they still had no success penetrating west of the River Belitsa. Division IX’s progress was again hampered that day and with 350 officers and soldiers lost, its ability to engage in further combat was diminished. August 12th was not a successful day for the Government army.



DAG forces, at least for this day, managed to hold on to their current positions but not without great sacrifices. After the attacks, DAG reinforced its internal defenses in hopes of preventing the opponent from taking Smrdesh and from blocking its escape route to Albania.



The next day, on August 13th, Division III Government Units were taken from Chuka and Lisets and sent to Preval and Vrba. After capturing the hills to the left and right of Preval, without significant resistance from the opposition, they continued their advance to the village Orovnik. On their way they established control of the Breznitsa-Zhelevo-Psoderi road, closing the gap on the opponent.



During the afternoon of the same day, DAG Units took up combat positions at the westernmost hills in Mali-Madi and on the elongated Mazi Hill, elevation 1,676, to the right of Prevolot, in order to secure the withdrawal of the larger DAG units.



A general withdrawal of DAG units began the morning of August 14th. They were headed towards the village Smrdesh, the mountains Vrba and Prevalot and towards Lake Mala Prespa. All units located north of Prevolot and everything down to Bela Voda, were headed in the direction of the villages P'pli, Rudari, Shtrkovo, German and R'bi. Their objective was to quickly pass the valley between the two Prespa lakes and cross the lake peninsula. Units south of Prevalot retreated in the direction of the villages Vmbel, Smrdesh and the Albanian border.



Overpowered, frantic, exasperated and bitter they were under constant attack from aircraft, artillery and tanks.



On the evening of August 14, with the exception of the Prespa Lake peninsula, the entire Prespa basin was under Government army control.

[George S.]

Borden language school to close, 26 jobs cut



By Brad Pritchard and Maija Hoggett



This will be the last month of work for 26 language teachers at Canadian Forces Base Borden.



Department of National Defence (DND) spokesperson Christian Tessier confirmed the layoffs in an email after the Canadian Forces Language School’s teachers union went public with the impending layoffs last week.



In total, Tessier said there are 29 employees “identified as being in a work force adjustment scenario.” Of those, 26 are language teachers.



According to Tessier, the layoffs are a result of the Directorate – Military Training and Cooperation (DMTC) changing how it delivers capacity building to non-Nato countries.



Traditionally, the Military Training and Cooperation Program (MTCP) has been used by the DMTC to train military and civilian staff on base.



“The transformed MTCP, while retaining some core trainer capacity within CF schools in Canada, will. Focus the majority of its efforts and resources at deploying mentoring teams to keystone staff and peace support educational institutions to partner with the host country to build the overall capacity of their own schools to train and educate their own forces,” wrote Tessier.



Mary Bonacci, vice president of the Agriculture Union Local 00273, which represents the school’s teaching staff, said the union found out about the closure during the first week of April. This was shortly after the DND announced the elimination of 51 civilian jobs at the base.



Adding to the frustration, she said the union found out about the layoffs through the media and not directly from the military. Since then, she said things have remained uncertain since official termination notices haven’t been sent to staff.



“We tried to get confirmation from every angle,” she said.



She said the union has a workforce adjustment agreement, but it’s too early to say if staff will be reassigned to new positions at Borden or elsewhere.



Tessier said DND and Canadian Forces leadership have met with affected personnel to tell them about the decisions.



“The department will take every measure to ease the impact of these divestments on affected employees,” he said.



The current course at the language school ends May 31. The next session would have normally started in July.



The school, which takes in about 250 students each year, opened in 1972 and for its first 20 years was used to teach English to French speaking Canadian Forces members. Since then, she said the school has been used to teach English to military personnel from all over the world.



“They got the chance to learn an awful lot about Canada and Ontario,” she said. “The language and how our military works. They had a real positive experience. They walked away with a real love for Canada.”



Borden wasn’t the only base affected by the staff cuts. Across Canada, 19,200 civil service positions will be axed as part of the federal government’s decision to cut $5.2 billion in annual spending over the next three years.



Included in the Borden layoffs are other civilian positions, like administration support staff and kitchen workers, which are expected to happen over the next two or three years. Those workers are represented by the Union of National Defence Employees (UNDE).



Source: The Alliston Herald, May 3, 2012

[George S.]

Macedonian Postal Service run by Illiterates

http://macedoniaonline.eu/content/view/20991/45/

Saturday, 12 May 2012

Who is running the Macedonian postal service? The answer can be somewhat surprising... the people who are running the post office aren't able to spell the name of their own country. Firms have been plagued with literacy problems since 2001, when people from the mountains who have never attended school or had the opportunity to come face to face with the Macedonian alphabet were put in high positions in both Government and state run companies.

The latest example is brought to you once again from postal service who decided to come up with a project called "Macedonia in EU" in which stamps would be created depicting the various capitals around the EU. With a minor error, the name of the country is missing an "E". Not the project manager, the editor nor the graphics department caught this error. Then again, you'd have to speak Macedonian and be familiar with the alphabet to catch this error?

The manager behind this project is Nexhat Alija. Feel free to contact him at [email protected] tel: ++389 2 240 18 51 Fax:++389 2 240 18 47.

[George S.]

The Great Lie – Chapter 24 – Part 1



By Petre Nakovski

Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

[email protected]

May 13, 2012



An unfamiliar man, a stranger, walked beside her. He adjusted the shmaizer (rifle) hanging over his shoulder, took a look at her and stepped up his pace. The two walked along the uneven road covered with twisted and tangled roots sticking deep into the dry dusty ground. Two people walking, one quietly, gently, finely, lovely, carefully and barely audibly, making her way with a slight bounce. The other, hesitant, uneven, stretched out and slack on the right foot and dignified, flat and heavy on the left foot noticeable by the large military boot he was wearing. His left wooden leg squeaked with every step. Engraved under the bleeding knee were thick leather straps. The woman slowed down, straightened up, untied her black kerchief, closed her eyes and wiped the sweat off her face. He slowed down too. Adjusted his shmaizer, brushed his unshaven face with his left hand and with tears in his eyes looked at the sun and said:



“Only courage… only courage…” he tore every word, as if chewing them. He turned towards her but she had already moved on. He gave her a measured look and continued talking, “You too will reach your destiny the way it’s ordained…” He paused with a gaping mouth as if he had forgotten something. He unbuttoned the canteen from his belt, took a couple of sips, straightened himself, looked at the old lady again and followed her at a stepped up pace. When he caught up to her he said: “Only courage and because the road is dusty, you sister, go ahead and don’t look back… Only courage… In a few moments the sun will disappear behind the mountain… And tonight the night will be peaceful…” attempting to distance himself. “Yesterday’s and the day before and the day before that, sound of machine guns, bombs, explosions, blasts, will only ring in our ears and not in the hills and mountain tops... Courage and only slowly,” he muttered, “and even though the woolen blanket you are carrying with you is heavy, go on, continue walking on the dusty road for as long as the heat does not subside and for as long as the first drops of dew do not fall. And if it happens that the night shall fall quietly, then you too shall fall, alone, among strangers and surely those strangers will pay their last respects and steal your woolen blanket. They will toss some burned and trampled soil on you or they will cover you with some dry twigs or green branches which they will gather in a hurry or they will toss some stones on you… Well, you are not a soldier, but if you happen to fall on this dusty road, which the soldiers soiled, you will have a military burial, our type of burial, a Partisan burial… Those passing by will look at you without care, cold and will continue walking towards the unknown on this or on that dusty road of no return…”



He slowed down a bit but continued walking. He unbuttoned his canteen and gave the old woman a drink. She moistened her lips and soaked one edge of her black kerchief. Walking, from time to time, she moistened her parched lips with the wet cloth to slow the

burning and cut down her thirst; just enough to ease her pain.



The man shifted the shmaizer to his other shoulder and as if his words weighed more, he sighed deeply and unreserved tried to encourage his walking companion:



“There will be no more explosions coming from these mountains and from these hills. Oh mother, squeeze your soul and endure a bit longer… Courage, just a little longer and the sun which bakes us will disappear, dusk will soon be here, and then the night will be peaceful… Come, follow me. The heat will subside and soon the dew will fall, and until then don’t turn and don’t pay attention to the explosions. There they only bring death. Look, here the soil is the same, the rocks are hard and the road is dusty, trampled and it seems like there is no end in sight… Only, here, I the fool, I mumble away, I don’t know, poor me, if anyone where you are going, will know why you have brought the woolen blanket?”



He stopped talking. There was complete silence except for the silent sound of their feet walking. In front of them, like a black cloud, a wave of refugees was fleeing. Sounds of babies crying, cows mooing, people yelling could be heard coming from their direction.



“If I may ask you, mother. What do they call you?” asked the man.



“Krstovitsa…” she answered softly and continued to walk ahead without engaging in the conversation. At one time they walked one beside the other, ever so slowly, it seemed like they were shadows on the go. And as they continued to walk along the long dusty road, she fell behind, the further they walked the more behind she fell, and to him it seemed like someone or something was touching her from some remote distance, choking up and breaking her words. He listened quietly, walking in front of her, hardly ever turning to look at her.



Some distance later he stopped, sat down and leaned against a tree stump. He took his shmaizer off his shoulder and braced it on his knee. Eventually she caught up and stopped beside him. They both stood there in silence. “So,” he broke the silence, “we walked and walked and we ended up in this place. I am saying ‘in this place’ because this here is our place. Only a few steps in that direction, that’s all that remains of what was once ours. This much is also left of our great hopes and aspirations… Look and have your fill; be happy and ecstatic, as long as we are in our place, our place, we are still on our land and please don’t cry. If you cross this band of land, you will have no reason to be happy and you will have plenty of time to cry, feel horrible, swear and curse, that’s why dear mother now you should be happy as long as we are in our land, for as long as we are in our place, for as long as we are still on our land. Over there it is not ours. With a single step you will cross this narrow band and you will enter, dear mother, into foreign land…



Sit down, take a break… Sit dear mother, sit down and let us both catch our breath. The road under our feet will not go anywhere… That too is our fate and it will be done as it is written… Please sit, so we can have a conversation sitting down… so we can have a few words while we rest… Sit, rest, the road is not going anywhere; it is our fate to take it to where it will lead us… They say it will be done as it is written… It is called fate… destiny. Come, sit and let me see what you are hiding there in that spool. Let us open it up together. Don’t hide it, let me see it. Let us put that reddish black string behind us, let us tie it to this rock or to that oak tree and along it, like blind people, tapping and feeling our way with a stick, we can find our way, hold on to the string so that we can both find our way to the source from which we were uprooted…



Come, take that sack off your shoulder the rope is cutting your shoulder, take the sack off and open the woolen blanket wide. Come, sit and let us talk. Where are we? We are at the end of our road but still on our land, and over there, look, is the road to alien lands leading away from our homes. Here, take it, hold on to the string of memories, don’t let them fall into the wrong hands, hold on to them as though you are holding on to your most cherished wishes. Oh dear mother, I can see that the string in the spool is coming to its end.



Now unfold the memory leaves and tighten your soul, tighten your heart, as our old people always used to say, those poor people, they turned their pain into songs. Sit. Your chin is shaking and a tear is being squeezed out of your eye. The wrinkles on your forehead are tightening and your lips are quivering. Why do you look angry and restless? Do you want to say something? Do you want to pray? Do you want to curse? Let the ravens crow and let the vultures circle and find their carcass from up high. We are not the first from our race and God let us be the last to share this fate.



Where are we? On the road? On whose road? Is it taking us home or away from home? Give it to me, give me the spool so I can let some string out… Perhaps tomorrow we will follow the string back and it will lead us to our home? Here, hold the string, don’t let anyone tear it… If someone tears it you will never find your way back, you will never be able to return home. All you will have then is your dismal desire and your great worry.



Oh, dear mother, the spool is small and the cord and golden silver thread on white and black is weaving like our yesterday’s and today’s destiny. Let some string out, unfold the old yellowed memory pages and in place of prayer – curse, because the truth and memories are protected in the curses. And what are memories if not desire for survival, if not a shade drawn from the past…? Let the ravens crow and the vultures search for carrion with a sharp glance from the sky…” he spoke the last words with a deep sigh.



He lost his voice and threw his head back. Krstovitsa looked at him with fear in her eyes. She felt his forehead. It felt hot. She unbuttoned the canteen from his belt and poured a handful of water onto his face. “He is burning… he has a fever…” she said to herself. “He is burning up…” She took the black kerchief off her head, poured some water on it and placed it on his forehead and face. He was hot to the touch. “He is burning up,” she repeated and looked around helplessly. Apart from the dust that remained from the people who had passed by them in a hurry earlier, she could see nothing and no one. She felt his forehead again. The kerchief was dry.



The stranger moved and as if nothing had happened, lifted his head, took the kerchief off his face and with a tired, exhausted and sleepy voice asked: “Did I, dear mother, fall asleep?” He did not expect a reply. He looked up at the blue sky, and then looked around, wrapping his eyes around the scorched earth and dust and while attempting to gather his thoughts, said: “We released some string from the spool and with it we found our way here. The spool was small, the string ended here, who knows how long the road ahead is, in what valleys and hills, forests and brooks… Unstitch, dear mother, unstitch some more string from the woolen blanket and with it we will trace our way back home, our footsteps will be covered by dust; water will wash the road, unstitch string from the woolen blanket so that we can find our way back home…”



His throat became hoarse and he stopped talking. As if lost, he looked at the sky, took a deep breath and said: “Unstitch dear mother, unstitch some thread from the woolen blanket so that we can mark…” He was unable to complete his sentence. The old woman interrupted with a sharp tone of voice:



“Take your dirty hands off the woolen blanket and don’t even dare look at it! The road has already been marked… by you and those...” She did not finish saying who ‘those’ were. The curse got stuck in her throat. She stood up, put her woolen blanket over her shoulder and without saying a word, stepped away. Without looking, she crossed the barrier that so many uprooted people before her had crossed. She did not look back. She continued walking down the dusty road and he, without saying a word, stood up and followed her.



They walked slowly, one beside the other. Once in a while the old woman paused to wipe the sweat off her face, catch her breath and adjust the woolen blanket on her shoulder. They kept going. Not used to the slow pace, he tried to stay with her and catch her when she stumbled and she, with a choked voice, with broken words began to tell her story… She spoke, unfolding twists of her experience, of what was hers yesterday. He listened silently, moving forward, rarely looking at her. The sun was about to set. The heat began to subside… He stopped and sat down. He took the shmaizer off his shoulder and braced it on his knee. The old woman, leaning forward, put down her woolen blanket, wiped the sweat off her face and stood there. She looked at the crowd of people gathering under the trees… He pulled out a small bag of tobacco, ripped a small piece of paper from a newspaper, twisted a cigarette and lit it. He inhaled a deep puff and slowly exhaled the smelly smoke. He spit to the side, puffed and spit again. He looked up at the blue sky and with eyes closed, asked:



“Did you say the woolen blanket was a gift and that you brought up your children and grandchildren on it? Did you say you left your house open and that you covered the burning coals in the fireplace with ashes? The coals will smoulder in the hearth for a long, long time. They will smoulder and wait. Look, the grove is emptying. The people are leaving. Let’s go, let us take the road that awaits us. Just like this, put the woolen blanket on your other shoulder so that your arm, holding the black copper jug, does not become numb. And when I tell you to stop, pause to catch your breath. And now, let’s go and don’t turn back, don’t look back. I will say it again, if you fall your people or strangers will surrender you to the earth and will steal your woolen blanket. Did you say we will return to our homes, to our old houses, we will uncover the smouldering coals and light a fire? Did you say that then you will lay down the woolen blanket on which your children and grandchildren grew up… Did you say, dear mother, your oldest lies under some stone on Ivan Mountain? And do you know where Ivan Mountain is? Look to your right. Over there, the one standing high, that’s Ivan Mountain… Is this where an Italian grenade cut him to pieces? And about your two grandsons they told you that last year they were left resting on Bel Kamen and that they saw your granddaughter at Charno resting beside her machinegun? And did you say she had blond hair, big blue eyes and a beautiful face with a sweet smile? Oh, dear mother, many at Charno blackened and turned to coal, burned by the living fire… At Treskavets, Aliabitsa and on every hill in Gramos…”



The man, as if wanting to ease the old woman’s pain and anguish which she carried with her, repeated again and again the words the old woman had spoken and, after moving a few steps ahead, would not look back. He knew very well what was happening there. And if some commander stopped in front of him, who now like him roamed the roads of the bordering country, if he stopped in front of him and told him: “Back you son of a bitch, back! Back to your post!” then without hesitation he would circle back and continue on the dusty dirt road back to the place where he would be ordered to die.



Eight years with a gun over his shoulder he formed the habit of listening and doing as he was told. In his younger years he did not even want to think for himself. What soldier is a soldier if they think for themselves? In what army do they teach soldiers to think for themselves? A soldier is trained to obey orders without asking questions. To listen, to do and not to think, it was drilled into their heads, it was in their blood. But later, when he matured, first in the Partisan ranks of ELAS, then in the Aegean Brigade, after serving in the Yugoslav People’s Army, and after that in the People’s Militia, he began to think and his thinking was sometimes not on the same level as the orders given to him to carry out. He never had officer’s epaulettes on his shoulder. He was a regular soldier for eight long years, always hungry and the host of many lice. In 1937 they made him wear a Greek uniform; drilled him, taught him how to kill and, like in every army, taught him it was honourable to kill and assured him, like they do in every army, that his life was the most important thing that he had and must be sacrificed for his ‘patrida’ (country).



The following year, 1938, he made a mistake about his ‘patrida’, for which his ‘patrida’ took his military uniform and exchanged it for a prison uniform. And why? Because in the unit where he was serving there were several ‘endopi’ (indigenous Macedonians) with whom he spoke in his Macedonian mother tongue. That’s right! He was sent to prison for speaking the language he had learned from his mother! The sergeant, who was also Macedonian from the same region, warned him twice to watch himself and that speaking the Macedonian language was prohibited. He knew that it was prohibited but, being angry at something, he swore in his mother tongue and having drunk a little too much he and his friends sang the Macedonian song, “I hear the rustling of the Beechwood trees” in the café. The song was sung quietly but loudly enough for others to hear. For that he was put in jail for six months, which he served on one of the dry islands in the Aegean Sea.



Those six months meant a lot to him. He met many older, thoughtful and educated people. And each one of them, in their own way, explained to him the wrongs that Greece (which some called the anti-people regime) was committing against its people and made it clear to him why people were poor, hungry and dressed in rags. They explained to him that everyone had the right be treated fairly, as an equal. Everyone had the right to have a job and to be paid, and not in the way things were done at that time; you having to work and someone else becoming rich and having a rich life.



He had difficulties understanding the concept of ‘society’ and ‘proletariat revolution’, but it seems that hiding in his misunderstanding was this mysterious power from which sprang his conviction. In the simple and still unpolluted soul of this ordinary Macedonian villager, exactly those unrecognized words created confidence and faith. What he liked most about this was that in this new society every day and night would be distributed evenly: eight hours work, eight hours sleep and eight hours learning and fun. And because he was very interested in learning he accepted the last part with mixed feelings. Of course this was understandable, but ultimately and unquestionably he accepted the truth that in this society everyone was going to be equal.



“What more could I want than being equal?” he often thought to himself. “Is there anything better than being equal, for example, to a general? Congratulations to the person who thought of such a society. A nice society.”



After six months, those who sentenced him, convinced that he was rehabilitated, returned him to a unit in which many like him also served. With their eyes fixed into the future and their heads filled with righteousness, which they barely understood, enthusiastically and trustingly they preached their ideals to others.



In the spring of 1939 they took his rifle and his uniform and sent him home to his village, wearing his old worn out rags. It was Easter and after church service, in the town square, the music band began to play. He took a one thousand drakma bill from his pocket, spit on the king’s face, slapped it on Duro’s forehead, and said: “Bajracheto, play the Bajracheto!”

[George S.]

Greek President, party leaders agree veto for Macedonia at NATO Summit in Chicago

18. May 2012. | 08:11

Source: Emg.rs, MIA

http://www.emg.rs/en/news/region/179666.html

Greece's party leaders and President Karolos Papoulias, at one of their meetings on setting up new government, agreed that Athens must impose veto on Macedonia's accession to NATO at Chicago Summit.

Greece's party leaders and President Karolos Papoulias, at one of their meetings on setting up new government, agreed that Athens must impose veto on Macedonia's accession to NATO at Chicago Summit.

According to transcripts of the meeting, published by Papoulias' Cabinet, Greek party leaders pointed out that Macedonia's accession to NATO was not on the Summit's agenda. However, if there were attempts for raising the issue Greek representatives at the summit should impose a veto.

The discussion on Macedonia at the meeting, held yesterday, was raised by the leader of right-wing Independent Greeks party, Panos Kammenos, who was concerned that at the Chicago Summit his country would be represented by an interim government with limited mandate.

"We wish for even the veto right to be applied for the possibility the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia to join NATO under the name 'Macedonia'," Kammenos said.

PASOK (Greek Socialist) leader Evangelos Venizelos said if the issue came up at the Chicago Summit, Greece should act in line with its national strategy and arguments it had prepared as response to the ruling of The Hague-based International Court of Justice.

"Our arguments should be smarter than those presented in 2008. We should make them stronger in a wiser, more intelligent manner," Venizelos said.

Alexandra Papariga, leader of the Communist Party, considers that Greece should veto a possible discussion on the matter, as 'there is no official Greek government." A discussion on Macedonia in Chicago should and could be prevented in any case, Democratic Left party leader Fotis Kouvelis said.

Alexis Tsipras, leader of the coalition of the radical left (SYRIZA), which came out as second best at the recent elections, said a name with geographic determination was a condition for settling the name dispute.

Conservative Nea Democratia leader Antonis Samaras said veto would be inevitable if the issue on Macedonia's NATO accession was to be raised at Chicago Summit.

The talks for constituting new Greek political or technical government failed, which resulted in setting up a caretaker cabinet, under the helm of Council of State president Panagiotis Pikrammenos, the head of Greece's top administrative court. Petros Molyviatis, who served as a Foreign Minister in Kostas Karamanlis' cabinet, is to take the same office in the caretaker government, whose main objective is organise new early elections.

[George S.]

The Great Lie – Chapter 24 – Part 2



By Petre Nakovski

Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

[email protected]

May 20, 2012



He was first, leading the dance. He started out lightly, hopping gently, swinging his kerchief up high in the air when suddenly the music stopped. There, beside the bandstand, stood the chief of police with his whip, gently tapping in his open left palm. The man lowered his leg with which he was about to take the next step in the dance and stood up straight. His right cheek began to tremble and his eyebrows furrowed. He crumpled his open kerchief in his hand and with a measured steady step walked to the bandstand. With an angry but quiet voice he said: “Continue to play!”



The old clarinet player, Duro the Gypsy, looked at the police chief for approval.



“I paid you for this dance, not him!” said the man.



“If it’s about the money, take it back…” said Duro quietly. He then went close to the man and whispered in his ear: “This police chief is a bastard and he will take away my right to play my instrument. Speak with him.”



The man turned. The police chief was rhythmically tapping his left palm with his whip. He could see a challenge in the reflection of the man’s eyes. The man came close to the police chief and asked in Greek: “You sir, did you order this dance to stop?”



There was silence. The whole place went quiet. Anticipation. There was a breath of fear in the air…



“Sir,” now in a calmer tone of voice, “Mr. Police Chief, today is Easter. If you want to and if you can, celebrate Christ’s resurrection with us and share with us that happiness,” said the man.



“And if I don’t then what?” asked the police chief with a slight smile on his face and began to tap his hand harder with the whip.



“Then gather your constables and get the hell out of our village!” replied the man.



“Is that so?” asked the police chief. “And do you know that we know everything about you? For example, we know that you are a communist and that every day you speak in that prohibited language, which means you disrespect the law and you show contempt for the great and clever wise man, Yoannis Metaxas. And besides that, a while ago you spat on the king’s face!”



The man wanted to say more but did not get the chance. With lightning speed the police chief hit the man across the face, with his policeman’s whip. It felt as if his entire face had been fried in hot oil. Without thinking, the man butted the police chief in the face with his head and at the same moment yanked the whip out of his hand and with it, hit him twice over the head.



His fellow villagers cursed the man for a long time because that Easter day they were all beaten to a pulp. As for him, they took him to Kostur and after a short trial found him guilty of speaking the forbidden language at home and in public places, of swearing and of attacking the government. He was sent to prison.



The ship, filled with men like him, set off from Solun and after two days of being whipped and abused, the prisoners were offloaded onto the dry Aegean Island, Aegina. He spent an entire year, with hundreds of people like him, breaking stones and building a new prison. This time too, like the last time he was in prison, there were those who filled his head with communist ideas. He listened well and looked forward to a brighter future.



One day the party instructor asked: “In what language do you speak with your friends?”



“In Macedonian…” he replied.



“Is there such a language?” asked the instructor.



“For us, yes there is, but for some others… maybe there isn’t…” replied the man.



“Are you not Greek citizens?” asked the instructor.



“On our land, Comrade, we have our native (mother tongue) and a state language. We have our own life and our own affairs. We also have two names and two surnames. One name is for our home, for our neighbours and for the entire village to use, the state uses the other [Greek] name. To some the state gave new names and to others it added the endings ‘os’, ‘is’ and ‘ou’. And this way ‘Popovski’ became ‘Papadopoulos’, ‘Ristovski’ became ‘Hristidis’, ‘Petrovski’ became ‘Petrou’… ‘Petre’ – ‘Petros’, ‘Yane’ – ‘Yannis’, and so on… The teacher, the policeman, the judge, etc., call us by that [Greek] name. It is the same here on this desolate island, the prison guards and our Greek communist comrades call us by the state name… And you, our Greek communist comrades, have now given us another name; ‘Slavo-Macedonians’…



The name given to us by the state is in all our papers; government, church, military, police, prison, etc. We use our [Macedonian] names at home, in the fields, in the local market and with our friends and relatives… There, at our place, at home, we are known as Popovtsi, Nakovtsi, Petrovtsi… We were this way during Turkish times. We spoke our native language for centuries. We understood one another, we argued with one another and we made peace with each other, we shared our joy and we buried our departed in that language… That’s the way it was, Comrade…



The Greek language, on the other hand, we learned under duress, with beatings, salted herring and castor oil…” concluded the man.



“Are there no Greek schools where you come from?” asked the instructor.



“Yes there are. There are schools, kindergartens and nursery schools. All the children are gathered there so that the parents can go to work without worry… And at night, all the adults go to night school and learn Greek by force and others of course learn the Greek language in prisons…” replied the man.



“This will not happen in a communist society…” said the instructor.



“We will see… Let me tell you this; there, at our places all villages, rivers, lakes, mountains, etc., have two names just like the people...” replied the man.



It was October 1940. Italy had declared war on Greece and the Party called: “All communists to the front.” The man was among the first to request to go. They freed him.



“Here the state spends money on them to rot,” said the camp commander, “let them go there and get killed, from one side it’s the same, but from another, let them prove how much they love their fatherland.”



The man loved his fatherland but he was unable to make the commander understand which and whose fatherland he loved. The man left and went to defend his fatherland. He was enlisted in the 28 Regiment of the Fifteenth Division. The entire regiment was made up of young men from the Kostur and Lerin Regions.



He received a light wound at Ivan Mountain and was sent to Pogradets. And since then he had not put his rifle down. Since then he had no epaulettes on his shoulders to weigh him down. The only things that weighed him down were the belt of the cold metal barrel and ammunition which cut his shoulders and turned him into a hunchback. He went to the mountains with the first detachments and fought against the Italians. And when “Lazo Trpovski” the first Kostur battalion was formed, in which all the fighters and commanders were Macedonians, he left ELAS and joined a Macedonian Partisan detachment.



He used to get angry, swear and fight bitterly with his friends when he heard that those “up there, above” the superiors, as they used to call them, argued among themselves, blamed one another and vilified each other, dividing themselves and taking this side or that. He stayed clear of all that and held his own side, the side that fought for a free, united and independent Macedonia.



He cried with tears of joy and hugged the Macedonian fighter from across the border, from Vardar Macedonia, when they arrived in Kostur Region. He spent several days with them wandering around, talking and singing revolutionary and patriotic songs about Macedonia. But soon after that he became angry and remained angry and very disappointed when he found out that the army command in Vardar Macedonia had refused to allow the Kostur Region youth to join its movement and since then wondered, asking himself and others, why no one wanted to create an all Macedonian army?



One of the commanders told him that it was up to the Parties and the Parties had some kind of understanding and things were done according to this understanding. He quickly realized that the Parties wanted a war of liberation with everyone fighting inside their own border. Anyone who did not follow those conditions would be labeled a separatist and prosecuted accordingly.



The young people who took to the mountains to join the struggle were turned back and returned home embarrassed and mocked.



When the war was over the Aegean Brigade, after the battles against the Balisti, was disbanded outside of Gostivar, the fighters were then dispersed to various services and he thought to himself, ‘the time has come when no new graves will be dug on Macedonian soil’. And every day new refugees arrived from the Aegean part, bringing bad news, saying that a new armed resistance had begun. He often wondered whether he should go or not? He was unemployed, living off the municipal cauldron. He reported to the People’s Militia and found work there. They told him his task was to continue the struggle against the People’s enemy.



He continued to walk in front of the old woman, something made a strange sound as he stubbornly paced on the dusty road, baked by the summer heat. He looked, there between the branches of the old oak tree the sun blinked and for a very short moment his eyes stared at the burning sky. A heavy, stifling and dry heat fell all over his face taking his breath away. They reached the summit. To the left was a forest. There were masses of people and livestock under the thick and tall oak trees and all over the entire long and wide meadow. Above them there was a lot of shouting and a cloud of dry dust. The crowds arrived and rose, they thickened, they roared, they babbled, they pushed and swarmed and they filled the meadow and the woods. And from another wilderness new crowds poured, women and men driven to run at the last moment after taking their belongings with them.



Without order, without supervision the immense angry crowd was pushing, swarming, growing, gathering, squeezing, breaking, swelling, cowering, yelling, cursing…



People and livestock mixed together, drawn here by the evil that had befallen them, pushing them deeper into alien lands… Someone yelled at the top of his voice, the sound put the crowd on edge, some ran downhill crying in panic and bewilderment. The surge was pounding, squashing, rolling, stampeding, pushing and no one could calm it down. Screams and cries of women and children filled the air; children who hung on tightly to their mother’s skirt.



A horse got loose from its harness, loose and unbridled it ran high up the hill hitting and running over everything and everyone in its path.



And as many times as the man wanted to say, he did not mention the dreadful, painful, terrible, frightening, sickly, sad, distressing sight which was now unraveling before his eyes.



He stood there straight and dumbfounded; looking down at the large mass of people all red and black. His eyes were blurred feeling like darkness was about to overtake them. His mouth was shut tight giving the impression that he was keeping something somewhere deep inside him, preventing it from boiling out. Slogans buried in him a long time ago were about to bust out, slogans that called for the people to have faith and determination. Slogans telling people to look forward to a better tomorrow, to a better future; slogans, which in time grew, ripened and matured.



His mentors told him and all those around him and beyond, that life would be as sweet as honey and he, stupefied, listened with an empty salivating mouth. Perhaps he was this way because the situation was so hopeless and he was caught up in the whirlwind without considering the consequences.



Obedience, faith and trust in the leader and the Party were his road signs. From top to bottom his mentors had taught him that there was only one person who was wise and clever enough to lead and only he had the right to do the thinking and to run things.



Up to now he had imagined this thought of a future with semi-educated Party secretaries, deeply rooted in the Party, running his world. Now, with desperation in his eyes, he looked at the hopeless situation they had created. He was confused and it seemed to him that he had not yet seen the light, the entire picture, and was about to realize what was really going on.



And now he was beginning to wonder where the unshakable, unconditional, unwavering, blind, huge and unbreakable faith had gone? He looked at the mob yelling and crying with foggy eyes. He saw a vast canvas lying there covering the entire place. Again and again something was gnawing inside him, it seemed to him that some mysterious voice of reason, conscience and conviction, down from his heart and from the thick age-old oak trees standing across from him in the grove, was attempting to communicate; asking the question: “WHY? WHOSE VOICE HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING TO AND OBEYING?”



He was incapacitated, bare, torn and eroded. He felt empty, lost and deceived. To believe in what and to have hope in what?



He isolated himself and felt abandoned. Had he made a mistake? Had he gone to the wrong side? Had he taken the wrong road or a wrong turn? He could not shake off these feelings from his conscience; he felt them like an open wound, like blow after blow and the pain, the suffering and the anguish, collected in him in layers and layers. The lost hope was hurting badly. He felt sluggish, lost, alone, bitter, mixed up. No longer afraid of what had happened but from what was going to happen. He stood on top of the hill defaced, naked and without courage. He understood now that there was nowhere to go, that there was no one to come to the rescue. In front of him there was desolation, behind him destruction and abandonment! Everything was burned, destroyed, turned to ashes. He stood there mute looking at the destruction as the sun slowly began to set.



In the grove, hidden away from the winding road, under the branches of the old oak trees, they were laying down the wounded. On the other side of the hill DAG fighters were pouring, coming down the hill. Some walked at a quick pace, others ran. They were all tired, cursing and swearing. A young Albanian lieutenant, speaking poor Greek, ordered them to go to the right. He said there they would find their own units. On a flat place near the road about ten freight trucks were parked and waiting. Another Albanian officer took some men and ordered them to load ammunition. He yelled and swore in Albanian at those who did not understand his orders. Some tossed the ammunition in piles and others onto the trucks. When they were done they stood to the side. They whispered suspiciously to each other, their eyes bloodshot from the smoke and lack of sleep. Some were tearing, tears which they wiped with their black hands, blackened from gunpowder.



It was hard, difficult and shameful for them to accept defeat. They were ready for anything, to stay at their bunkers to the last one, bunkers that had taken months to build, bunkers that covered the entire Vicho terrain. They were ready to die but it was others who had made mistakes in their calculations. Perhaps deliberate?



Suddenly there was the sound of a motorcycle approaching and a man wearing a uniform without markings, ordered:



“Comrades! Everyone go to your own units. Prepare yourselves and follow that man! March!”



He waved and left.

[George S.]

The Great Lie – Chapter 25



By Petre Nakovski

Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

[email protected]

May 27, 2012



The vultures stopped circling when the sky started to glow purple just before nightfall. The red disk of the bright sun slowly disappeared behind the mountain. At the clearing beyond the border, under a clear starry sky, the multitude was quietly crying, cursing, swearing, moaning and praying. The full moon began to shine from beyond the hill. Krstovitsa spotted an unoccupied spot and went to it. She took the woolen blanket off her shoulder. She leaned her shoulder on a rock which was still warm and radiating heat. A cloud blocked the moon and everything went dark.



In the dark, beside her, as if she was not there and did not exist, strangers were passing by, carrying heavy loads on their backs, tired and exhausted, quiet, mute. People were passing by guiding their livestock, shouting at one another, infants crying and elders choking with emotion. A woman’s voice was heard cursing in the dark and drowning in the convulsions of her sobbing…



Krstovitsa extended her hands, touched her feet and then the soil. It was easier to breathe now. She took a long breath and then wiped the sweat off her forehead and face and then put her black kerchief back on her head. She looked up. High up in the sky the stars were flickering. Occasionally the crowd went quiet, but just for a moment, that’s when the quiet roar of thunder could be heard in the distance with slight vibrations felt in the air. She slumped on the woolen blanket using it as a pillow and imagined that she was at home in her own house, in the dead of night beside her hearth in which she was sure the coals she had covered up with ash were still burning; she imagined that she was in her colourful guest room in which she had spread her worn out woolen blanket and thought about her children and her children’s children who had grown up on this woolen blanket.



And now, where are they now? She knows that her oldest son is lying dead somewhere under a rock on top of Ivan Mountain. She knows that her second son is working in some mine somewhere in Canada and Kotsa, her daughter, she knows that she was exiled to Egina Island in the Aegean Sea because her husband left with the Aegean Brigade. She knows that since last year the remains of her two grandsons have been resting in pieces somewhere in Gramos. She heard that her granddaughter had been shot in the back when she was returning from Negush and was left to bleed in the snow. She was told, and she still believes, that her granddaughter recovered from her wounds and took the road to Vicho.



And in her thoughts she again returned to the beginning, remembering everything that had happened, feeling the pain over and over again, and what hurt the most was her inability to get over her unhealed pain. Her heart had broken when she found out that Pavle, her eldest son, was left dead on Ivan Mountain. Her heart had broken when she received the dreadful letter with the king’s seal telling her that her son had died heroically in the Albanian mountains; heroically defending the Greek ‘patrida’ (country) against the Italians.



Broken hearted, Krstovica did not have the courage to ask the man who read her the Greek letter with the king’s seal why they had sent him to prison in 1936. Why did they send her son, the hero who died on Ivan Mountain for Greece, to prison for six months on one of the dry Aegean Islands, for simply saying “good morning” in his Macedonian native language? And why did they have to give him castor oil to humiliate him?



When they read her the Greek letter about her two grandsons, who only last year had lost their lives and left their bodies in the rocks on Kleftis in Gramos, they said they had died heroically for the glory of Greece. They said they had died as Greeks for Greece. Those words gave her no comfort, no pride and no dignity in her heart. In fact they insulted her and gave her sharp pains in her gut. Macedonians have their own country and their own roots soaked in the blood of so many of their own heroes.



In their letters they write about Greece and Greeks and at the same time despise her for not knowing how to speak the Greek language, for not understanding the priest in church and for not knowing how to pray to God in Greek.



And when Krsto, her husband, did not return from the Asia Minor campaign, then too they read her a letter telling her that he, Stavros, had died admirably at Ali Veran for the greatness, for the glory and for the honour of Greater mother Greece. And before that when they made him wear their uniform, they called him “neznamitis” (“ne znam” in Macedonian means “I don’t know” or I don’t understand what you are asking”) because to every question they asked he replied with the words “ne znam” (I don’t know).



The Greeks sent letters stamped with a Greek royal seal to the families of the “neznamites’, even to those who had died in foreign lands, giving the impression that now even the most beloved sons of Macedonia care for Greece and are dying for the glory of Greece. But the Greeks say this only when the “neznamites’ serve their interests, when they fight for Greece, when they kill on behalf of Greece and when they spill their own blood to glorify Greece. It has always been this way with the Greeks. They like the “neznamites” and glorify them as long as the “neznamites’ march to the tune of their military drums and trumpets. But even then, they rob them of their speech. Even then, they do not allow them to cry, moan, or speak of their problems in their Macedonian language. They won’t allow their mothers, wives and sisters to cry and pray for them on their graves in their native Macedonian language. They won’t even allow their Macedonian names to be written on the crosses standing at the head of their graves.



And God, as we are told through the force of Greek law, does not recognize any other prayers besides those spoken in Greek. All mighty God, through the mouth of the all Greek Patriarch, obliges some to be happy and others to suffer in silence and to be sustained not by kindness and God’s love, but by bitterness and humiliation. So, in times of prayer, even though all people celebrate the One and same Christian God, not all are allowed to pray to him and glorify his name in their native language. And every week and holiday when church bells ring loudly, for some prayers are mute, recognized only by the expression in their eyes, foreheads, cheeks, low bows, foreheads touching the ground and by the barely visible movement of lips.



People know to say “amen” loudly and “Christ has Risen” or “For Many Years” (Live a long and prosperous life) silently and away from inquisitive ears. And when they received a letter from the battlefield with bad news, they set aside their fears of castor oil, the whip, the dry islands in the Aegean Sea and begin to scream and wail in their own language because only through it they can find the deepest, most meaningful, most significant and most caring way to express their feelings and lighten their pain over the loss of a loved one.



Krstovitsa had to set aside her fears many times, on three separate occasions over the years. She wailed and wept aloud, in her Macedonian language, many times; during a holiday, on a weekday, during a celebration, during a burial and during a wake. Before the Greek-Italian war broke out, learning Greek in the night schools, she barely managed to learn the first verse of the Greek version of “our father” but quickly afterwards when bad news began to arrive, prayer in Greek did not help her, not even when the priest and the teacher tried to convince her that God wanted to hear prayers whispered in Greek only. In her memory there was no place for forgetting, not the good and not the bad.



Sitting there, leaning against the cool rock, Krstovitsa, through her teary eyes, struggled to gaze into the distance, in which, through her blurred vision, she could see her house. But she sensed that it lacked eternal warmth and brightness, the goodness and the sad view of the Virgin Mary in front of which burned an oil lamp every day and night. Now that too was gone. The eternal and serene beauty seen from the porch above was also gone. The vine that once thrived and climbed above the porch was gone. All that remained now were the dry grapes hanging there burned by the heat wave. The old apple tree in the yard was burned too. It had been a shelter for all kinds of birds including swallows that constantly flew under it. It was now blackened by smoke and smelling like marigolds and basil of which there was so much in the yard. Desolate… Everything was desolate...



She raised her arms and touched her face with her hands. She wiped her tears… For a moment she felt weak and as if something in her had just broken. She began to weep… very quietly, silently, without quivering, without loud sobbing, but from the bottom of her heart. Then after she wept for a while she felt something lift out of her, she was relieved by a long awaited calm. She tried to stand up but in spite of all her efforts she was still unable. She squatted down, looked around and attempted to identify the nocturnal noises around her. It seemed as if she was all alone. A step or two away she heard a cricket chirping quietly in the grass, then go silent. It stopped chirping as if wanting to listen and started up again; short chirps as if frightened from a firefly that flashed several times as it flew by near the road. It stopped again. It jumped a step further and renewed its chirping, this time it was more intense, louder, it filled the darkness with its sound.



Krstovitsa turned her head and then felt a shiver as the night air from the distant mountains made its way past her. There were sounds of thunder in the air. She listened. The leaves in the trees all over the vast wilderness rustled, spreading their sound all around her. The wind blew gently on this hot August night, softly caressing her cheeks. She felt something awaken; come alive inside her, something that had been trampled on, crushed, by the severity of life. “Oh God, am I dying or going crazy?” she asked herself quietly feeling calm, peaceful and relieved of her fears. Squatting by the rock she finally became aware of her knees hurting. “Am I cowering? From whom? Why?” she asked herself and slowly stood up.



Under the cover of darkness people, together with their possessions, were arranged in columns. And when those in the woods and those in the hills were combined together, as one, a thunderous voice behind them ordered them to move in the dark. Above them in the vast sky, in this penetrating deep darkness, the stars seemed to be moving, taking steps with them, slowly, step by step, moving above the columns…



Dawn was breaking. A frowning, reddish dim brightness was beginning to descend from the direction of Bela Voda. Beyond there lazily lay the waters of Lake Prespa. Krstovitsa packed her woolen blanket, tossed it over her shoulder, and began to walk on the dusty desolate road bent forward as if walking into a strong wind. She was walking straight following in the footsteps of those who had passed here before her. She did not look back. The night she had spent in the meadow beside the dusty road, it seemed to her as if death had passed her by, looked at her tears and left, went behind the hills, towards the lake, towards the reeds that grow in the wide valley of Mala Prespa.



Two columns of tanks, one from Lerin over Psoderi, the other from Kostur over Gabresh, met at the intersection in Oshchima, a small distance from Zhelevo and took the road towards Prevolot where the Government infantry was leading a battle. They hurriedly rushed uphill anxious to reach the Rabi plains and occupy Peroo, the straight between the two lakes and thus close the road to Albania and cut off the escape route of the units leaving Bela Voda and Bigla. Before entering Orovnik, three powerful explosions were heard. Three bridges were blown up at the entrance of the village. After that the earth shook and the air was filled with smoke as detonation specialists destroyed the stores of weapons and food buried in the bases in the hills between Orovnik and Popli.



Government troops moved their artillery batteries closer to Prespa, to new positions and opened fire. They were bombing the paths of the left over fighters fleeing into Albania. In the morning fighter planes, approaching from the south and following one another, bombed Vrba and then flew low and with rockets and machine gun fire, attacked the hills above Medovo and Rabi. Trucks were offloading infantry troops at Shtrkovo who immediately engaged in battle. Two DAG (Democratic Army of Greece) battalions were fiercely defending the region. The tanks turned left and plunged onto the plains around Peroo. Anti-tank mines kept erupting under them. The escape path was now closed. DAG units leaving Bela Voda now joined the defenders in Rabi but at noon they were fiercely attacked by Government forces, which appeared from the Kleshtina-Rakovo-German direction. Leaving their dead and wounded behind, the defenders withdrew towards Peroo along a clear corridor but the opponent used every arsenal in his possession to target them.



On August 14th the bridge near the local tower, where the water flows from the large into the small Lake Prespa, was destroyed and DAG units from the 14th Brigade were left behind, cut off from their escape route. Along with them were also fleeing civilians who hid in the reeds between the bridge and the village Rabi. (There is a span of 5 kilometers from the bridge to Rabi). Here is where DAG’s greatest drama, outside of the Lerin battle, unfolded where defenseless people bravely fought with their will and bare hands. Here is where tens of low flying fighter planes unleashed terror with their bombs, rockets and machine gun fire. After the planes were finished the tanks, cannons and mortars were unleashed. And when they were done, the Greek Government unleashed their LOK (Special Forces) and Mountain Units which fiercely pursued the DAG fighters. They shot and killed all the wounded.



In the morning of August 15th, DAG detonation specialists blew up the bridge between the two lakes. All hope for those living and wounded DAG fighters left behind was lost. Those attempting to swim across the lake were killed by flying aircraft. Others fought their way to the last bullet and then hid in the sand and amongst the reeds. The slaughter continued all day on August 14th. Part of the 14th Brigade that had defended Bela Voda, using the thick willow trees near the lake’s coast for cover, put up a fierce fight and after dark, slipped away and withdrew to the Yugoslav border. Yugoslav officers at the border proposed that the DAG fighters surrender their weapons as a condition for entering Yugoslav territory. The fighters, after long and fruitless discussions, refused. Being given some food and water they divided themselves into three units and, during the night, retreated to Bela Voda.



Anyone who could still run, walk, or crawl left and hid in the high, thick reeds in order to save themselves. DAG fighters, including civilians, who did not get a chance to escape though Peroo, hid here in the sand and reeds. Most of those attempting to escape were shot at. The valley was filled with bodies of the dead and wounded. Most bodies were run over by tanks as they circled around the plain. Two tanks penetrated the straights. A powerful explosion took place at the embankment separating the two Prespa lakes. A rush of water flooded part of the Lake Prespa basin. This calmed down the fury of the tank attacks. The tanks stopped moving and shortly after withdrew to the road that passes below the villages. Low flying aircraft, originating from Rupishta and Kozheni, flew in a formation of three, pounding the plain and the lake reeds. They tilted their left wing, turned in a semicircle, pounded Suva Gora and disappeared behind Mount Vrba. They did this at intervals of five minutes and then the planes from Lerin came. They flew from the direction of Bela Voda, in a horizontal formation, covering and pounding the entire expanse near little Lake Prespa. The water flew high, the lake boiled and the reeds burned as bombs kept coming down. People attempted to swim away to save themselves but none made it to shore alive.



The telephone rang loudly at Division III command post located on the hill above the village Popli. The commander picked up the headset and quietly stood still while he listened.



“Yes, yes, General, Sir. We are making progress. We already have control of the entire area on the eastern side of the lake. No, yes, there is only sporadic, almost single fighter resistance. Where? They are hidden in the lake reeds and are defending themselves there. Yes, of course, they will be overpowered by dark and during the night our troops will occupy the so-called Africa, west of the lake. What? Are you asking how our brave air force is holding out? In the plain and in the lake it is sowing fear and terror from the sky… It has brought hell on earth from the sky, General, Sir… Yes, everything is under our control… Yes, yes, General, Sir. Today is August 14th. Tomorrow we will be celebrating the Virgin Mary in peace. Yes, thank you. General, Sir, if you allow me, I want to tell you that what is happening here now, is no longer fighting, but pure murder, slaughter, not to say criminal. Order this hell to stop… the lake is red with blood… Yes, of course, General, Sir. As a soldier and chief I will do my military duty, but as a man…”



The telephone went dead. There was no voice on the other side.



It was August 15th and all over Greece the Virgin Mary holiday was being celebrated. News of the great victory arrived in Athens by radio but all night it was celebrated by the launching of glowing rockets and the firing of glowing bullets. Gunfire was relayed from hill to hill, from city to city, all the way to Athens.



Villagers from the surrounding villages, who had failed to cross the border and escape, were gathering the bodies of the dead. The stench of death was spreading rapidly in the heat of August. Bulldozers arrived from Lerin in the afternoon and began to dig deep trenches in the sandy soil. And in them they tossed the dead bodies of DAG fighters one on top of another and after, when the trenches were filled, the bulldozers covered them with soil, carefully leveling them so that it looked like the land had just been ploughed.



A column of military trucks was waiting in Rabi. Wounded and dead government soldiers were being collected, from all over the battlefield that stretched from the Prespa plains to the other side of the lake all the way to the Albanian border, and transported in jeeps. The dead were loaded on trucks and taken to Lerin. They dug special graves in the Lerin cemeteries and buried them in the presence of the Lerin Bishop and official military and civilian authorities, with trumpets playing and the singing of the Greek national anthem. They were buried with all military fanfare that included gunfire salutes with every burial. Their first and last names were then inscribed on a cross that stood at the top of the grave. The citizens, with their heads uncovered, gathered together at the cemeteries with every burial and among them stood those who had deserted, surrendered and collaborated with the enemy. They stood there in silence, mute, with their hands crossed and held just below their navels.



When the church bells rang citizens came out on their balconies, hung their flags and brought their radios with them. The commemorations taking place in Athens were carried all throughout Greece, transmitted over the radio waves.



Here in Prespa everything was quiet as the sun was about to set over the shimmering peaceful lake waters. Here at the large Prespa mass grave, a single white-bearded priest, whose shadow was elongated by the setting sun, stood on top of the freshly ploughed soil, carefully smoothed over by the bulldozers, and with a broken and trembling voice whispered:



“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God…”

The priest ended his blessings and walked ahead, stepping over the soft soil. In Lerin the church bells were ringing and, before ending the commemoration, the bishop said:



“Blessed are those who fulfill their commandments, to have the right to life and to enter the city through the gates. And outside are the dogs, the dammed, the prostitutes, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who wants to lie and deceive…”



The frowning citizens led by Gypsy musicians, laid flowers and wreaths on the graves of the fallen Government soldiers.



And here at the Prespa mass graves the only thing heard was the lake water splashing against the shore. There was no crying, there were no flowers and wreaths, the church bells in Orovo, Popli, Shtrkovo, Medovo, Rabi, German, Nivitsi, Grazhdeno, Vineni, Lak, Bukovik, Drenovo… were not ringing.



The north wind, however, carried distant sounds. A church bell tolled from Dolno Dupeni, from beyond the border… It was quiet but the extinguished voice of the old priest could be heard in the silence:



“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you, and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world…”



He paused, took a long breath, sighed and from his hoarse throat he squeezed the word “Amen!”



“Amen,” repeated the darkness and the hills. “Amen,” repeated the desolate villages and wounded trees. At least that is how it seemed to the old priest, since there was no one around to cry or mourn. Here and there the lake soil hollowed out, settled down on the dead, it hugged them, it filled the gaps and empty spots between them. The day came to a close. In the night when the first stars appeared in the sky reflected by the lake water, candle lights could be seen on Sveti Ahil shimmering in the dark, lit by someone’s hand.



The long and humble prayers delivered by the priest were welcomed like a long awaited emergence to life from a coma.



The priest took the road to Rabi. He walked slowly and without pausing continued the funeral service and when he came to “the last rights” his voice began to shake. “The last rights,” he said, but there was no one alive in the Prespa fields to hear the last rights. He stopped on the uphill on the side of the road, turned towards the valley where the mass graves were located, raised his arms towards the sky and whispered:



“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied…”



He crossed himself three times, then knelt and with his forehead he touched the ground several times. He got up slowly as if all the hardship, suffering and anguish in this world was resting on his shoulders, crossed himself three times and left for German.



The choppy water of Lake Mala Prespa, whose blue mirror was broken by two days of aerial bombs, cannon and mortar shells and cut by thousands of hot bullets, was slowly calming down and surrendering its corpses to the shore.



Giorgi did not make it to Peroo and failed to cross the strait between the two lakes so he found himself in the whirlpool of fire. He did however manage to hide in the tall and dense reeds. He dug a hole with his hands and covered himself with sand. From here he watched the struggle for life take place on all sides of the lake and inside the lake. He watched it boil wildly, blindly, angrily, stubbornly, passionately, madly, persistently like a controlled stanza. And as the struggle for life heated up so did the hatred and spite. While one side rejoiced the other defended itself with the last bullet and when it had used up the last bullet, then a knife, a dagger, a bayonet flashed in the hands of the women fighters…



The next day everything calmed down, even the lake waters. Giorgi watched from his hiding place as they collected the dead and wounded. In the night, not too far away he heard a quiet, tired cry. Crouching low he went to investigate. A boy was lying in the reeds half submerged under water. He had a huge glob of dried blood on his forehead and a swarm of flies on his left shoulder. Giorgi pulled him out of the water and laid him on dry land. He washed his shoulder and with a piece of his shirt he tied his wound. The frightened boy sobbing and shivering looked into Giorgi’s eyes.



Giorgi knelt and at the moment that he was about to stand up, a little to the side, only about ten steps away, he saw a woman’s body lying in the reeds. He left the boy and went to her. And even though her face was swollen he could tell that the woman was young. Her cheeks looked beautiful and she had big blue eyes. Her chest was wide. She had a ring on her finger. Swollen from drinking blood the leaches were detaching. The waves were splashing, caressing the unknown woman’s dead body, splashing her gently then returning, then splashing her again. There was a machine gun beside her. Giorgi checked its chamber, it was empty. In her clenched hand, oddly tucked under her left shoulder, it seemed as if she was hiding something. He opened it and in it he found two cartridges. It looked like the poor woman, thought Giorgi, had never had the chance to use them. He stayed by the young woman a little while longer and then returned to the boy who now was lying between the reeds, like a frightened bird looking at the sky. Giorgi took him and carried him to the willow grove at the side of the lake. He then collected some green branches, carried them under his arm and went over to the young woman. He pulled her out of the water and placed her on dry ground. He dug a hole in the sand with his hands and buried her. On the pile of sand he then arranged the green branches. He placed rocks all around the grave and bowed and crossed himself. He then returned to the boy, sat beside him and waited for nightfall.



When a sickle moon appeared in the sky he helped the boy up and, while holding him by his arm, they walked through the huge cemetery and then only for a moment without having to stop they looked up at the sky and it seemed to them that the stars were walking with them.



Behind them quietly, a village church bell was heard ringing intermittently. Three times and all night bang-bang-bang… ringing three times for everyone in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, AMEN…


Other articles by Risto Stefov:

http://www.maknews.com/html/articles.html#stefov

http://www.americanchronicle.com/authors/view/3446

[George S.]

Scattered heritage – Part 2 of 6

By Nove Cvetanoski

THE CONSUL'S AND THE SECRET AGENT'S PASSION


In the 1840s, the Croatian Antun Mihanović was an Austrian consul in Salonica. Besides his consul duties, he had another passion – he collected old Macedonian manuscripts, and in order to do it he travelled all over Macedonia, also visiting the Mt. Athos monasteries. He was the first person to systematically collect old manuscripts throughout Macedonia, to urge people to give them away as gifts, to borrow them or to buy them. Jordan Hadži Konstantinov – Džinot wrote in "Tzarigradski Vestnik" (issue no. 208, on 1/1/1855) that Mihanović took from the Lesnovo monastery alone three loads of manuscripts in 1842. After he had taken them, someone instructed the people from Kratovo to ask for the manuscripts back, so they complained about it to Avzi-pasha in Skopje. Nonetheless, Mihanović managed to keep 17 manuscripts, whereas the others were never returned to the Lesnovo monastery, but were scattered across Skopje. Word spread that Mihanović paid for manuscripts well, so people sought him in Salonica to sell manuscripts to him.

After Mihanović's death in 1861, his heirs sold his manuscript collection to the bishop Juraj Strossmayer, who then donated the manuscripts to the Zagreb academy, today's Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts (formerly known as the Yugoslav Academy of Sciences and Arts). No historical sources have been found until now that would reveal the fate of every manuscript that Mihanović took away from Macedonia. However, the ones that were saved are in the CASA archive today, as a collection comprising 38 Macedonian manuscripts (10 of them are Lesnovo manuscripts). The more significant manuscripts from Mihanović's collection are: the selective gospel of priest Jovan dating from the end of the 12th or the beginning of the 13th century; the selective gospel of Radomir, from the mid-13th century, which belongs to the Kratovo literary school; the tetragospel of Bogdan, the Vranešec epistle and an octoechos (called the Mihanović octoechos, consisting of 112 parchment sheets) – all dating from the 13th century; the Ilovica "krmčija" from 1263 (which contains entries from Skopje and from the Markov monastery). The collection also includes seven manuscripts dating from the 14th century, among which is the Mihanović Macedonian gospel (containing 146 parchment sheets and 11 page fragments). In fact, the manuscripts in the CASA collection originate mainly from the Lesnovo, the Prohor Pčinjski and the Markov monasteries, as well as from several Mt. Athos monasteries.

In the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts in Zagreb there is another, larger and more significant, collection of Macedonian manuscripts, which were gathered by the Bosnian ethnologist, archaeologist and folklorist Stefan I. Verković. He was involved in secret Serbian propaganda in South Serbia, Albania and Macedonia, and from 1850 to 1875 he was a Serbian secret agent in Macedonia. His agent duties were veiled mostly by his activity of collecting folklore material, but he also collected old manuscripts from the monastery and church libraries throughout Macedonia. He founded an antiques shop in 1857 in Ceres and developed the Macedonian manuscripts trade. In addition to dispatching some to the Society of Slavic Literature in Belgrade, Verković sold manuscripts in Russia and Bulgaria as well, keeping some for himself. Today in the National Library in St. Petersburg alone there are 71 manuscripts that he collected.

Slavic manuscripts of Orthodox provenience, i.e. Macedonian manuscripts that Verković had collected, also turned up in Catholic Croatia. In his collection at CASA there are twenty manuscripts taken from the St. Jovan the Baptist monastery in Slepče, near Demir Hisar. After Verković's death (he died in 1893, two years after his stay in Russia where he sold Macedonian manuscripts), i.e. in 1902, Verković's manuscripts were accidentally taken to Zagreb (where he had previously left some manuscripts for storage). Among the more important ones are: the Slepče tetragospel and octoechos, both from the 14th century, a lenten triodion from the end of the 13th or from the beginning of the 14th century, a missal from the late 14th century, the Žitog tetragospel and another tetragospel dating from the 16th century.

In addition to these two collections, in the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts there is another manuscript archive of Macedonian origin. This archive includes: a lenten triodion and a spring triodion from the Ohrid school dating from the first half of the 13th century, a selective gospel and a Bitola selective octoechos from the 13th century, a Bitola missal and a Lesnovo selective gospel (both from the 14th century), the Collection of Vladislav Gramatik from the 1469, and a tetragospel from the Skopje area dating from the first half of 15th century.

In the CASA archives there are also 15 fragments of old Slavic manuscripts. Some of them are from Macedonia, including a parchment sheet of the Gospel according to Matthew, written at the end of the 13th century at Mt. Athos.

In addition to the CASA manuscript collection (which consists of 113 works), old Macedonian manuscripts can also be found in other Croatian libraries, museums and scientific institutions. The National University Library in Zagreb has 21 manuscripts, among which, for instance, is a fragment of a lenten triodion dating from the first half of the 13th century. One manuscript resides in Zagreb's City Library, whereas in the History Museum of Croatia there are 56. Old Macedonian manuscripts can be found in the science libraries in Zadar and Dubrovnik, as well as in Cavtat (in the Valtazar Bogisić collection), Kninsko Pole, Mokro Pole and Šibenik (catalogued as being the property of the Serbian Orthodox Church, but there is no information on their condition after the war between Serbia and Croatia in the 1990s.)

Old manuscripts that originate from Macedonia are saved in Slovenia, as well. The University Library in Ljubljana has the Macedonian Kopitar lenten triodion, which dates from the middle of the 13th century and belongs to the Kratovo literary school. It is a parchment manuscript, but only fragments of it remain, i.e. 72 pages only.

Macedonian manuscripts and books can be found in other European cities, as well as in private collections. Few of them remain in Macedonia (a little more than 400), whereas there are many more all over the world. They belong to the Macedonian spiritual and cultural heritage, but not to the Macedonian scholars and to the people who created them, since our people's inheritance rights have been appropriated in times of foreign rule and war, by a robber's passion.

MACEDONIAN COLLECTIONS IN SERBIAN LIBRARIES


The biggest damage inflicted upon Macedonian handwritten heritage was done in the 19th and 20th centuries, after the founding of some neighbouring countries, i.e. after the increase of foreign church propaganda and influence. The theft was first carried out by priests from the neighbouring churches (literary heritage was mostly kept in the holy buildings), and afterwards by anyone who could do so – from soldiers to passers-by.

The old manuscripts and books that were collected by travellers such as Stefan Verković, Viktor Grigorovič, Antun Mihanović and others, are most often kept in libraries and museums throughout Europe. However, those in Bulgaria, and even in Serbia, especially in the Serbian and some Montenegrin monasteries, are not yet fully available to Macedonian researchers. Most often they are concealed or, when they are being exhibited, their origin isn’t mentioned, so that our researchers have to obtain information indirectly (from descriptions in articles or from catalogues). Such difficulties notwithstanding, Macedonian scholars of handwritten and literary heritage have catalogued and briefly described around seven hundred manuscripts that reside in European libraries and museums. Even this list isn’t complete, though, since some of the older manuscripts in the collections are described as Serbian, Bulgarian or Russian, even though they originate from Macedonia.

Many valuable Macedonian literary artefacts are to be found in Serbian institutions. In Belgrade's "Svetozar Marković" University Library, among other things, there are two important Macedonian manuscript collections. One of them is from the Lesnovo monastery, and it consists of 31 manuscripts and 10 manuscript fragments. The manuscripts were taken from the Macedonian monastery by the Serbian authorities during the Balkan Wars in 1913, and then taken to the Serbian Seminary at the Belgrade's University. After World War II they were taken to the "Svetozar Marković" University Library in Belgrade (instead of the University Library in Skopje). After a while the collection was not catalogued as a Lesnovo collection, but was renamed (so that its origin is obscured) as The Collection of Ćorović (after the manuscripts catalogue editor!). The second collection consists of 28 priceless Macedonian manuscripts that Josip Cvijović, the once Bitola bishop who later became the Skopje Metropolitan, collected. Those manuscripts mainly originate from the Bitola region. Cvijović took them to Belgrade in the 1930s.

The Serbian Royal Academy, which later grew into the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts (SASA), even in the 19th century, collected literary artefacts from Macedonia. In the SASA library today there are many Macedonian manuscripts, the most important of which are: Oliver's menaion (written in 1342 in the Lesnovo monastery; 232 sheets), the Lesnovo prologue (written in the same monastery in 1330; 321 sheets), Speeches (written in the Markov monastery in the 14th century; 318 sheets), a Tetragospel from the Lesnovo monastery dating from early 14th century (258 parchment sheets), a Macedonian Collection from the 18th century, a Requiem of the St. Blagoveštenie monastery in Skopska Crna Gora, a Pčinja "krmčija" (14th century, written in the St. Prohor Pčinjski monastery), a Tetragospel from the 14th century, on 321 parchment sheets (written in the same monastery), and a Collection dating from the 17th century, which contains articles on the Macedonian educators Prohor Pčinjski, Gavril Lesnovski and Ilarion Meglenski.

Before World War II, when the Serbian Orthodox Church was present in Macedonia, via its priests and via all sorts of contests, it managed to collect many old manuscripts and books. One of the most determined collectors at the time was Radoslav Gruić, who collected for the State Museum in Skopje, and from there he took away the manuscripts and books in 1936-37 for delivery to Belgrade. After his death (following the war), his collection was transported to the Museum of the Serbian Orthodox Church in Belgrade. Today, among other manuscripts, in the Gruić collection in the Church Museum there are six extraordinarily significant Macedonian manuscripts: a tetragospel from the 13th century and one from the 14th century, the Apocryphal Collection of Adži Baba the Teacher (17-18th cent.), a Collection dating from the 18th century, a "Čin na eliosveštenie" (13th century) written on 72 parchment sheets, and a Kičevo octoechos (13th century). In the Serbian Orthodox Church's collection there is also: a Pentecostarion (spring triodion) dating from 1520, Hagiographies and teachings from 1350, and a Kučevište menaion from 1622-23. A part of the manuscripts obtained by the Serbian Orthodox Church can also be found today in the Serbian Patriarchy Library, and the most important of those are: a Psalter from the 16th century, a Requiem of the St. Jovan Bigorski monastery from 1869, a Missal dating from the 16th century, a "Mitarstvo" from the 18th century and a tetragospel from the 15th century.

There's a library rich in old Macedonian manuscripts and books in the Dečani monastery, too. The Russian researcher A. Gilferding, as early as 1857, found in the Dečani monastery several old Macedonian manuscripts from the 13th and 14th centuries (among which the Dečani Psalter and the Dečani Gospel), which he took to the Public Library in St. Petersburg. It is assumed that this monastery, as well as other Serbian monasteries and churches, has Macedonian manuscripts and old books that, because of their inaccessibility, haven’t been catalogued by Macedonian scholars. In the Chilandar monastery, which is run by Serbian priests and monks, there is also a rich Macedonian handwritten and literary heritage, which includes several dozen manuscripts dating as early as the 14th century!

In Belgrade's National Library, which was destroyed during German bombing in 1941, there used to be a large Macedonian literary heritage, i.e. several hundreds of old Macedonian manuscripts, among which there were 36 manuscripts that Jordan Hadži Konstantinov – Džinot dispatched. During the bombing many Macedonian manuscripts were destroyed, among which around thirty from the 14th century, of which not even a photocopy was saved; that is, the biggest Macedonian manuscript collection that has ever existed in a library was destroyed. It is interesting to mention that before the bombardment all the manuscripts were placed in special crates and were ready to be transported to a safe place. During the attack, they were in the library's ground floor, which the fire reached on the third day of the bombardment. But in the meantime no-one had thought of the several thousand manuscripts. However, during World War II the same library began to form a new collection, once more out of Macedonian manuscripts. Among the first ones in it were the Gurište Tetragospel dating from the 15th century, the Poreč Tetragospel from the 16th century etc. Of course, after the war, Macedonian manuscripts were collected in the same library in Belgrade, instead of in Skopje.

Similar neglect of Macedonian manuscripts happened during World War I as well, when the manuscript collection from the National Library in Belgrade was accidentally left at the Niš railway station. Some Austrian soldiers took several manuscripts from it, and some of the manuscripts were Macedonian.

MACEDONIAN MANUSCRIPTS AS "MERCHANDISE"


Macedonian medieval manuscripts and books weren't destroyed, robbed, scattered and sold before World War II only; they were sold even after the Republic of Macedonia gained its independence. The manuscripts (just as many other relics), via the black market and for high amounts of money, reached the hands of foreign collectors or foreign libraries. Thus, for instance, in the early 1990s, some Macedonian archaeographers, via private channels (since official research by Macedonian scholars wasn't made possible), gathered information according to which during 1986 or 1987 four medieval manuscripts and one letter of Macedonian origin were given to the National Library of Serbia! They were dispatched by a person from Skopje (a woman), but in addition to the basic information listed about the manuscripts in the library, the name of the person who gave them away wasn't mentioned, which is the usual procedure when a manuscript is catalogued. Which, in turn, means that most probably the owner from Skopje sold them. The manuscripts in question are of utmost scientific and historical importance (in the National Library in Belgrade they are catalogued under the library numbers Rs 693 to Rs 699): a lenten triodion from the 14th century, containing 157 parchment sheets (!), a fragment of a Missal from the 14th century (23 parchment sheets), a Missal from the 14th century (248 paper sheets), a Psalter dating from the third quarter of the 15th and from the end of the 17th century, and a letter (in Macedonian) by priest Mihail Vuković from Mavrovo, written in 1869.

Some records point out that two more manuscripts exist besides the ones mentioned above, about which our researchers don’t have specific information, although they were supposedly given away by the same person from Skopje. But it is thought that these manuscripts, until a few years ago when they were taken to Belgrade, were in the possession of an Ohrid family, which had a priestly tradition. That family gave away the manuscripts to a certain researcher, and one of the manuscripts was then noticed in the office of a member of the Macedonian Academy of Sciences and Arts. Even though the manuscripts were given to a scholar, they weren't catalogued nor elaborated on by Macedonian science, i.e. the Macedonian Academy of Sciences and Arts. They ended up in the Serbian National Library, instead of in the Macedonian National University Library (NUL "St. Clement Ohridski", which has the biggest collection of old manuscripts and the conditions to conserve and store them), although the library financially rewards finders of old manuscripts. In this case, cultural heritage artefacts have become "merchandise" in scientific circles, that is, a Macedonian citizen sold a Macedonian handwritten artefact to a foreign national institution. For such an act—lack of patriotism being implicit—the basic motive is most often a good financial compensation. Yet this is not the only such case since the Republic of Macedonia gained independence. Besides manuscripts of course, "merchandise" have been icons, archaeological objects and other old valuable things from Macedonia.

THE BIGGEST MANUSCRIPT WORK – IN SOFIA


In Bulgarian libraries and museums there is a rich manuscript heritage indeed, the extent of which is not exactly known. After 1879, when Bulgaria was set free from Turkish rule, and after the establishment of the Bulgarian Exarchy, the Bulgarian propaganda in Macedonia intensified. With it, the collecting of manuscripts and other relics increased, mostly done by the exarchy teachers and priests.

The bulk of the valuable objects were taken away during the wars of 1912-1918, which can be seen from the following information about old manuscripts. Namely, in 1909, in Sofia's "Vasil Kolarov" library there were 609 manuscripts, and then volunteering collectors throughout Macedonia kept enlarging that number so that in 1920 it rose to 964, whereas in 1923 it reached the number of 1090 manuscripts. Thus, during this period alone (and to this library alone) probably 481 manuscripts were taken away from Macedonia, whereas that number cannot be applied to the collected and saved manuscripts residing in the Republic of Macedonia today. Besides to Sofia, manuscripts were also taken to Plovdiv, so that in Bulgarian libraries today there are many valuable manuscripts dating from as early as the 12th and 13th centuries.

Bulgarian libraries and museums conceal such information, but Macedonian scholars, nonetheless, have been able to point out some exact manuscripts that can be found there.

One of the world's depositories richest in Macedonian manuscripts is the "Cyril and Methodius" National Library in Sofia. According to information obtained by Macedonian manuscript heritage researchers, there are 398 manuscripts in this library. Among the most important are: a fragment of a lenten triodion from the end of the 11th century, two parchment sheets from a menaion-prologue dating from the 12th century and 127 parchment sheets (out of 175 in total) from the Dobrejšo tetragospel, which dates from the first half of the 13th century. The older they are, the more valuable for science they are, and in this library there are several manuscripts from the 13th century as well: a Skopje holiday menaion (279 parchment sheets), two octoechoses (73 and 32 parchment sheets), a tetragospel (171 parchment sheets), three menaions, two lenten triodions, three selective epistles, a selective gospel and several fragments of an octoechos, lenten triodions, a psalter and parts of a menaion.

In addition, in Sofia's National Library there are several dozen 14th-century manuscripts, almost all written on parchment. Among them, the more significant ones are: a selective gospel consisting of 201 parchment sheets, a Tetragospel with an epistle (215 paper papers), the Speech of Isaac Sirin (239 sheets), a Lesnovo parenesis (315 parchment sheets).

There are many valuable Macedonian manuscripts in the library of the Bulgarian Science Academy, too. In its archives there are several pages in Cyrillics, which originate from the 10th or the 11th century. Furthermore, there is also the Bitola triodion from the 12th century (101 parchment sheets), written in the Debar region, discovered in 1898 in the Bitola region, taken to Sofia in 1907 (and it is considered to be one of the most important handwritten artefacts, parts of which are written in the Glagolitic alphabet, in phonetic signs of the oldest variety, in rare musical "tita" signs, because of which it is also considered as one of the earliest artefacts of Macedonian music culture). Additionally, in the Bulgarian Science Academy there are: a psalter (106 parchment sheets), a selective gospel (fragment), eight parchment sheets of a triodion, a prologue (113 parchment sheets) – all dating from the 13th century; then a triodion (77 parchment sheets), an octoechos (192 paper sheets), a pentecostarion, a prologue in three parts (431 sheets), a Veles collection and many other manuscripts from the 14th and, of course, later centuries.

In the National Library in Plovdiv, among other things, there are several older literary artefacts from Macedonia, such as: nine parchment sheets of a gospel dating from the 12-13th century belonging to the Kratovo literary school; then a lenten triodion from Bitola; fragments of a lenten triodion from Kičevo, eight parchment sheets of a gospel, a selective gospel (91 parchment sheets) – all dating from the 13th century, as well as a collection of speeches and hagiographies from the 15th century.

In the Sophia National museum, where many valuable Macedonian relics are kept (among which the Ohrid Archbishops' precious stones crown as well as other archaeological and museum items) there are manuscripts from Macedonia, too. Particularly valuable and rare are the two parchment sheets from a menaion dating as early as the 12th century and a hymnbook from the 13th century on 64 parchment sheets.

However, Macedonian manuscripts can be found even in the Archaeological Museum in Sofia, as well as in some Bulgarian monasteries and churches. Thus, for instance, in the Rilski monastery, among other things, there are to be found almost the earliest Macedonian (literary) traces. Namely, among the saved Macedonian handwritten heritage there are eight Macedonian Glagolitic papers from the 11th century, six of which are in the Rilski monastery, whereas two are in the Russian Academy of Sciences. Furthermore, this monastery also has a parchment gospel dating from the 14th century, a collection from 1473 and from 1479, which originate from Macedonia, and other items.

Still, in addition to the earliest Macedonian Glagolitic papers, other old Macedonian manuscripts have also been split apart, as is in fact the fate of Macedonia's entire handwritten heritage. Thus for instance the Slepče epistle—dating from the 12th century and especially significant for several reasons, such as its rich ornamentation—has been taken apart, and parts of its 154 sheets are today in Moscow, Kiev, Plovdiv, St. Petersburg and Odessa. (A similar thing happened to the Dobrejšo tetragospel dating from the beginning of the 13th century, which used to have 175 parchment sheets, 127 of which are in the possession of the National Library in Sofia, whereas the other 48 sheets used to be kept in the National Library in Belgrade, but were destroyed during the city's bombardment on the 6th of April 1941.) Thus, valuable Macedonian manuscripts were stolen and torn apart and scattered by anyone who could do so, taking them wherever they could.

[George S.]

Scattered heritage – Part 2 of 6

By Nove Cvetanoski

THE CONSUL'S AND THE SECRET AGENT'S PASSION


In the 1840s, the Croatian Antun Mihanović was an Austrian consul in Salonica. Besides his consul duties, he had another passion – he collected old Macedonian manuscripts, and in order to do it he travelled all over Macedonia, also visiting the Mt. Athos monasteries. He was the first person to systematically collect old manuscripts throughout Macedonia, to urge people to give them away as gifts, to borrow them or to buy them. Jordan Hadži Konstantinov – Džinot wrote in "Tzarigradski Vestnik" (issue no. 208, on 1/1/1855) that Mihanović took from the Lesnovo monastery alone three loads of manuscripts in 1842. After he had taken them, someone instructed the people from Kratovo to ask for the manuscripts back, so they complained about it to Avzi-pasha in Skopje. Nonetheless, Mihanović managed to keep 17 manuscripts, whereas the others were never returned to the Lesnovo monastery, but were scattered across Skopje. Word spread that Mihanović paid for manuscripts well, so people sought him in Salonica to sell manuscripts to him.

After Mihanović's death in 1861, his heirs sold his manuscript collection to the bishop Juraj Strossmayer, who then donated the manuscripts to the Zagreb academy, today's Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts (formerly known as the Yugoslav Academy of Sciences and Arts). No historical sources have been found until now that would reveal the fate of every manuscript that Mihanović took away from Macedonia. However, the ones that were saved are in the CASA archive today, as a collection comprising 38 Macedonian manuscripts (10 of them are Lesnovo manuscripts). The more significant manuscripts from Mihanović's collection are: the selective gospel of priest Jovan dating from the end of the 12th or the beginning of the 13th century; the selective gospel of Radomir, from the mid-13th century, which belongs to the Kratovo literary school; the tetragospel of Bogdan, the Vranešec epistle and an octoechos (called the Mihanović octoechos, consisting of 112 parchment sheets) – all dating from the 13th century; the Ilovica "krmčija" from 1263 (which contains entries from Skopje and from the Markov monastery). The collection also includes seven manuscripts dating from the 14th century, among which is the Mihanović Macedonian gospel (containing 146 parchment sheets and 11 page fragments). In fact, the manuscripts in the CASA collection originate mainly from the Lesnovo, the Prohor Pčinjski and the Markov monasteries, as well as from several Mt. Athos monasteries.

In the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts in Zagreb there is another, larger and more significant, collection of Macedonian manuscripts, which were gathered by the Bosnian ethnologist, archaeologist and folklorist Stefan I. Verković. He was involved in secret Serbian propaganda in South Serbia, Albania and Macedonia, and from 1850 to 1875 he was a Serbian secret agent in Macedonia. His agent duties were veiled mostly by his activity of collecting folklore material, but he also collected old manuscripts from the monastery and church libraries throughout Macedonia. He founded an antiques shop in 1857 in Ceres and developed the Macedonian manuscripts trade. In addition to dispatching some to the Society of Slavic Literature in Belgrade, Verković sold manuscripts in Russia and Bulgaria as well, keeping some for himself. Today in the National Library in St. Petersburg alone there are 71 manuscripts that he collected.

Slavic manuscripts of Orthodox provenience, i.e. Macedonian manuscripts that Verković had collected, also turned up in Catholic Croatia. In his collection at CASA there are twenty manuscripts taken from the St. Jovan the Baptist monastery in Slepče, near Demir Hisar. After Verković's death (he died in 1893, two years after his stay in Russia where he sold Macedonian manuscripts), i.e. in 1902, Verković's manuscripts were accidentally taken to Zagreb (where he had previously left some manuscripts for storage). Among the more important ones are: the Slepče tetragospel and octoechos, both from the 14th century, a lenten triodion from the end of the 13th or from the beginning of the 14th century, a missal from the late 14th century, the Žitog tetragospel and another tetragospel dating from the 16th century.

In addition to these two collections, in the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts there is another manuscript archive of Macedonian origin. This archive includes: a lenten triodion and a spring triodion from the Ohrid school dating from the first half of the 13th century, a selective gospel and a Bitola selective octoechos from the 13th century, a Bitola missal and a Lesnovo selective gospel (both from the 14th century), the Collection of Vladislav Gramatik from the 1469, and a tetragospel from the Skopje area dating from the first half of 15th century.

In the CASA archives there are also 15 fragments of old Slavic manuscripts. Some of them are from Macedonia, including a parchment sheet of the Gospel according to Matthew, written at the end of the 13th century at Mt. Athos.

In addition to the CASA manuscript collection (which consists of 113 works), old Macedonian manuscripts can also be found in other Croatian libraries, museums and scientific institutions. The National University Library in Zagreb has 21 manuscripts, among which, for instance, is a fragment of a lenten triodion dating from the first half of the 13th century. One manuscript resides in Zagreb's City Library, whereas in the History Museum of Croatia there are 56. Old Macedonian manuscripts can be found in the science libraries in Zadar and Dubrovnik, as well as in Cavtat (in the Valtazar Bogisić collection), Kninsko Pole, Mokro Pole and Šibenik (catalogued as being the property of the Serbian Orthodox Church, but there is no information on their condition after the war between Serbia and Croatia in the 1990s.)

Old manuscripts that originate from Macedonia are saved in Slovenia, as well. The University Library in Ljubljana has the Macedonian Kopitar lenten triodion, which dates from the middle of the 13th century and belongs to the Kratovo literary school. It is a parchment manuscript, but only fragments of it remain, i.e. 72 pages only.

Macedonian manuscripts and books can be found in other European cities, as well as in private collections. Few of them remain in Macedonia (a little more than 400), whereas there are many more all over the world. They belong to the Macedonian spiritual and cultural heritage, but not to the Macedonian scholars and to the people who created them, since our people's inheritance rights have been appropriated in times of foreign rule and war, by a robber's passion.

MACEDONIAN COLLECTIONS IN SERBIAN LIBRARIES


The biggest damage inflicted upon Macedonian handwritten heritage was done in the 19th and 20th centuries, after the founding of some neighbouring countries, i.e. after the increase of foreign church propaganda and influence. The theft was first carried out by priests from the neighbouring churches (literary heritage was mostly kept in the holy buildings), and afterwards by anyone who could do so – from soldiers to passers-by.

The old manuscripts and books that were collected by travellers such as Stefan Verković, Viktor Grigorovič, Antun Mihanović and others, are most often kept in libraries and museums throughout Europe. However, those in Bulgaria, and even in Serbia, especially in the Serbian and some Montenegrin monasteries, are not yet fully available to Macedonian researchers. Most often they are concealed or, when they are being exhibited, their origin isn’t mentioned, so that our researchers have to obtain information indirectly (from descriptions in articles or from catalogues). Such difficulties notwithstanding, Macedonian scholars of handwritten and literary heritage have catalogued and briefly described around seven hundred manuscripts that reside in European libraries and museums. Even this list isn’t complete, though, since some of the older manuscripts in the collections are described as Serbian, Bulgarian or Russian, even though they originate from Macedonia.

Many valuable Macedonian literary artefacts are to be found in Serbian institutions. In Belgrade's "Svetozar Marković" University Library, among other things, there are two important Macedonian manuscript collections. One of them is from the Lesnovo monastery, and it consists of 31 manuscripts and 10 manuscript fragments. The manuscripts were taken from the Macedonian monastery by the Serbian authorities during the Balkan Wars in 1913, and then taken to the Serbian Seminary at the Belgrade's University. After World War II they were taken to the "Svetozar Marković" University Library in Belgrade (instead of the University Library in Skopje). After a while the collection was not catalogued as a Lesnovo collection, but was renamed (so that its origin is obscured) as The Collection of Ćorović (after the manuscripts catalogue editor!). The second collection consists of 28 priceless Macedonian manuscripts that Josip Cvijović, the once Bitola bishop who later became the Skopje Metropolitan, collected. Those manuscripts mainly originate from the Bitola region. Cvijović took them to Belgrade in the 1930s.

The Serbian Royal Academy, which later grew into the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts (SASA), even in the 19th century, collected literary artefacts from Macedonia. In the SASA library today there are many Macedonian manuscripts, the most important of which are: Oliver's menaion (written in 1342 in the Lesnovo monastery; 232 sheets), the Lesnovo prologue (written in the same monastery in 1330; 321 sheets), Speeches (written in the Markov monastery in the 14th century; 318 sheets), a Tetragospel from the Lesnovo monastery dating from early 14th century (258 parchment sheets), a Macedonian Collection from the 18th century, a Requiem of the St. Blagoveštenie monastery in Skopska Crna Gora, a Pčinja "krmčija" (14th century, written in the St. Prohor Pčinjski monastery), a Tetragospel from the 14th century, on 321 parchment sheets (written in the same monastery), and a Collection dating from the 17th century, which contains articles on the Macedonian educators Prohor Pčinjski, Gavril Lesnovski and Ilarion Meglenski.

Before World War II, when the Serbian Orthodox Church was present in Macedonia, via its priests and via all sorts of contests, it managed to collect many old manuscripts and books. One of the most determined collectors at the time was Radoslav Gruić, who collected for the State Museum in Skopje, and from there he took away the manuscripts and books in 1936-37 for delivery to Belgrade. After his death (following the war), his collection was transported to the Museum of the Serbian Orthodox Church in Belgrade. Today, among other manuscripts, in the Gruić collection in the Church Museum there are six extraordinarily significant Macedonian manuscripts: a tetragospel from the 13th century and one from the 14th century, the Apocryphal Collection of Adži Baba the Teacher (17-18th cent.), a Collection dating from the 18th century, a "Čin na eliosveštenie" (13th century) written on 72 parchment sheets, and a Kičevo octoechos (13th century). In the Serbian Orthodox Church's collection there is also: a Pentecostarion (spring triodion) dating from 1520, Hagiographies and teachings from 1350, and a Kučevište menaion from 1622-23. A part of the manuscripts obtained by the Serbian Orthodox Church can also be found today in the Serbian Patriarchy Library, and the most important of those are: a Psalter from the 16th century, a Requiem of the St. Jovan Bigorski monastery from 1869, a Missal dating from the 16th century, a "Mitarstvo" from the 18th century and a tetragospel from the 15th century.

There's a library rich in old Macedonian manuscripts and books in the Dečani monastery, too. The Russian researcher A. Gilferding, as early as 1857, found in the Dečani monastery several old Macedonian manuscripts from the 13th and 14th centuries (among which the Dečani Psalter and the Dečani Gospel), which he took to the Public Library in St. Petersburg. It is assumed that this monastery, as well as other Serbian monasteries and churches, has Macedonian manuscripts and old books that, because of their inaccessibility, haven’t been catalogued by Macedonian scholars. In the Chilandar monastery, which is run by Serbian priests and monks, there is also a rich Macedonian handwritten and literary heritage, which includes several dozen manuscripts dating as early as the 14th century!

In Belgrade's National Library, which was destroyed during German bombing in 1941, there used to be a large Macedonian literary heritage, i.e. several hundreds of old Macedonian manuscripts, among which there were 36 manuscripts that Jordan Hadži Konstantinov – Džinot dispatched. During the bombing many Macedonian manuscripts were destroyed, among which around thirty from the 14th century, of which not even a photocopy was saved; that is, the biggest Macedonian manuscript collection that has ever existed in a library was destroyed. It is interesting to mention that before the bombardment all the manuscripts were placed in special crates and were ready to be transported to a safe place. During the attack, they were in the library's ground floor, which the fire reached on the third day of the bombardment. But in the meantime no-one had thought of the several thousand manuscripts. However, during World War II the same library began to form a new collection, once more out of Macedonian manuscripts. Among the first ones in it were the Gurište Tetragospel dating from the 15th century, the Poreč Tetragospel from the 16th century etc. Of course, after the war, Macedonian manuscripts were collected in the same library in Belgrade, instead of in Skopje.

Similar neglect of Macedonian manuscripts happened during World War I as well, when the manuscript collection from the National Library in Belgrade was accidentally left at the Niš railway station. Some Austrian soldiers took several manuscripts from it, and some of the manuscripts were Macedonian.

MACEDONIAN MANUSCRIPTS AS "MERCHANDISE"


Macedonian medieval manuscripts and books weren't destroyed, robbed, scattered and sold before World War II only; they were sold even after the Republic of Macedonia gained its independence. The manuscripts (just as many other relics), via the black market and for high amounts of money, reached the hands of foreign collectors or foreign libraries. Thus, for instance, in the early 1990s, some Macedonian archaeographers, via private channels (since official research by Macedonian scholars wasn't made possible), gathered information according to which during 1986 or 1987 four medieval manuscripts and one letter of Macedonian origin were given to the National Library of Serbia! They were dispatched by a person from Skopje (a woman), but in addition to the basic information listed about the manuscripts in the library, the name of the person who gave them away wasn't mentioned, which is the usual procedure when a manuscript is catalogued. Which, in turn, means that most probably the owner from Skopje sold them. The manuscripts in question are of utmost scientific and historical importance (in the National Library in Belgrade they are catalogued under the library numbers Rs 693 to Rs 699): a lenten triodion from the 14th century, containing 157 parchment sheets (!), a fragment of a Missal from the 14th century (23 parchment sheets), a Missal from the 14th century (248 paper sheets), a Psalter dating from the third quarter of the 15th and from the end of the 17th century, and a letter (in Macedonian) by priest Mihail Vuković from Mavrovo, written in 1869.

Some records point out that two more manuscripts exist besides the ones mentioned above, about which our researchers don’t have specific information, although they were supposedly given away by the same person from Skopje. But it is thought that these manuscripts, until a few years ago when they were taken to Belgrade, were in the possession of an Ohrid family, which had a priestly tradition. That family gave away the manuscripts to a certain researcher, and one of the manuscripts was then noticed in the office of a member of the Macedonian Academy of Sciences and Arts. Even though the manuscripts were given to a scholar, they weren't catalogued nor elaborated on by Macedonian science, i.e. the Macedonian Academy of Sciences and Arts. They ended up in the Serbian National Library, instead of in the Macedonian National University Library (NUL "St. Clement Ohridski", which has the biggest collection of old manuscripts and the conditions to conserve and store them), although the library financially rewards finders of old manuscripts. In this case, cultural heritage artefacts have become "merchandise" in scientific circles, that is, a Macedonian citizen sold a Macedonian handwritten artefact to a foreign national institution. For such an act—lack of patriotism being implicit—the basic motive is most often a good financial compensation. Yet this is not the only such case since the Republic of Macedonia gained independence. Besides manuscripts of course, "merchandise" have been icons, archaeological objects and other old valuable things from Macedonia.

THE BIGGEST MANUSCRIPT WORK – IN SOFIA


In Bulgarian libraries and museums there is a rich manuscript heritage indeed, the extent of which is not exactly known. After 1879, when Bulgaria was set free from Turkish rule, and after the establishment of the Bulgarian Exarchy, the Bulgarian propaganda in Macedonia intensified. With it, the collecting of manuscripts and other relics increased, mostly done by the exarchy teachers and priests.

The bulk of the valuable objects were taken away during the wars of 1912-1918, which can be seen from the following information about old manuscripts. Namely, in 1909, in Sofia's "Vasil Kolarov" library there were 609 manuscripts, and then volunteering collectors throughout Macedonia kept enlarging that number so that in 1920 it rose to 964, whereas in 1923 it reached the number of 1090 manuscripts. Thus, during this period alone (and to this library alone) probably 481 manuscripts were taken away from Macedonia, whereas that number cannot be applied to the collected and saved manuscripts residing in the Republic of Macedonia today. Besides to Sofia, manuscripts were also taken to Plovdiv, so that in Bulgarian libraries today there are many valuable manuscripts dating from as early as the 12th and 13th centuries.

Bulgarian libraries and museums conceal such information, but Macedonian scholars, nonetheless, have been able to point out some exact manuscripts that can be found there.

One of the world's depositories richest in Macedonian manuscripts is the "Cyril and Methodius" National Library in Sofia. According to information obtained by Macedonian manuscript heritage researchers, there are 398 manuscripts in this library. Among the most important are: a fragment of a lenten triodion from the end of the 11th century, two parchment sheets from a menaion-prologue dating from the 12th century and 127 parchment sheets (out of 175 in total) from the Dobrejšo tetragospel, which dates from the first half of the 13th century. The older they are, the more valuable for science they are, and in this library there are several manuscripts from the 13th century as well: a Skopje holiday menaion (279 parchment sheets), two octoechoses (73 and 32 parchment sheets), a tetragospel (171 parchment sheets), three menaions, two lenten triodions, three selective epistles, a selective gospel and several fragments of an octoechos, lenten triodions, a psalter and parts of a menaion.

In addition, in Sofia's National Library there are several dozen 14th-century manuscripts, almost all written on parchment. Among them, the more significant ones are: a selective gospel consisting of 201 parchment sheets, a Tetragospel with an epistle (215 paper papers), the Speech of Isaac Sirin (239 sheets), a Lesnovo parenesis (315 parchment sheets).

There are many valuable Macedonian manuscripts in the library of the Bulgarian Science Academy, too. In its archives there are several pages in Cyrillics, which originate from the 10th or the 11th century. Furthermore, there is also the Bitola triodion from the 12th century (101 parchment sheets), written in the Debar region, discovered in 1898 in the Bitola region, taken to Sofia in 1907 (and it is considered to be one of the most important handwritten artefacts, parts of which are written in the Glagolitic alphabet, in phonetic signs of the oldest variety, in rare musical "tita" signs, because of which it is also considered as one of the earliest artefacts of Macedonian music culture). Additionally, in the Bulgarian Science Academy there are: a psalter (106 parchment sheets), a selective gospel (fragment), eight parchment sheets of a triodion, a prologue (113 parchment sheets) – all dating from the 13th century; then a triodion (77 parchment sheets), an octoechos (192 paper sheets), a pentecostarion, a prologue in three parts (431 sheets), a Veles collection and many other manuscripts from the 14th and, of course, later centuries.

In the National Library in Plovdiv, among other things, there are several older literary artefacts from Macedonia, such as: nine parchment sheets of a gospel dating from the 12-13th century belonging to the Kratovo literary school; then a lenten triodion from Bitola; fragments of a lenten triodion from Kičevo, eight parchment sheets of a gospel, a selective gospel (91 parchment sheets) – all dating from the 13th century, as well as a collection of speeches and hagiographies from the 15th century.

In the Sophia National museum, where many valuable Macedonian relics are kept (among which the Ohrid Archbishops' precious stones crown as well as other archaeological and museum items) there are manuscripts from Macedonia, too. Particularly valuable and rare are the two parchment sheets from a menaion dating as early as the 12th century and a hymnbook from the 13th century on 64 parchment sheets.

However, Macedonian manuscripts can be found even in the Archaeological Museum in Sofia, as well as in some Bulgarian monasteries and churches. Thus, for instance, in the Rilski monastery, among other things, there are to be found almost the earliest Macedonian (literary) traces. Namely, among the saved Macedonian handwritten heritage there are eight Macedonian Glagolitic papers from the 11th century, six of which are in the Rilski monastery, whereas two are in the Russian Academy of Sciences. Furthermore, this monastery also has a parchment gospel dating from the 14th century, a collection from 1473 and from 1479, which originate from Macedonia, and other items.

Still, in addition to the earliest Macedonian Glagolitic papers, other old Macedonian manuscripts have also been split apart, as is in fact the fate of Macedonia's entire handwritten heritage. Thus for instance the Slepče epistle—dating from the 12th century and especially significant for several reasons, such as its rich ornamentation—has been taken apart, and parts of its 154 sheets are today in Moscow, Kiev, Plovdiv, St. Petersburg and Odessa. (A similar thing happened to the Dobrejšo tetragospel dating from the beginning of the 13th century, which used to have 175 parchment sheets, 127 of which are in the possession of the National Library in Sofia, whereas the other 48 sheets used to be kept in the National Library in Belgrade, but were destroyed during the city's bombardment on the 6th of April 1941.) Thus, valuable Macedonian manuscripts were stolen and torn apart and scattered by anyone who could do so, taking them wherever they could.

[George S.]

MACEDONIAN ROOTS IN CANADIAN SOIL

(Makedonci vo Kanada)

Spero Thompson



Canada, you are indeed a land of multi-cultural Immigrants

Many people heard your call and they came

Macedonians leave their beloved homeland

Your promise of hope and freedom they come to claim.



You invite them, come people from Aegean, Pirrin, Vardar

Come; join other new life seeking peoples

Leave Macedonia, as children will one day leave home

Come; build families, homes, businesses, Churches with steeples.



You counsel them, embrace me and I will embrace you

Nothing will be given to you, nothing here is free

Macedonians are not strangers to hard times or hard work

Things will go well here, endure you will see.



You persuade them, give me your youth, muscle, sweat

Give me your hopes, dreams, your plans, your brain

Establishing a foothold in this new country will be hard

Remember immigrant, it's your children who will reap and gain.



And work they did, daytime, night time, part time, overtime

In slaughterhouses, tanneries, factories, restaurants and mill

No work was too hard, or beneath such a hardy people

As these freedom loving Macedonians, of intelligence and will.



They rub shoulders with the multiracial people of Canada

Learn the English language; retain culture and procure them a place

Their honest, and religious character, prove them second to none

In Business, Arts, Academics, and Politics, they bring honor to their Race.



One day when we sons and daughters, stand at our parents graves

After those hope seeking immigrants, have ended their days of toil

Then we will understand it is our roots we plant; for far from Macedonia

Our parent’s bodies will become part of Canada's soil.

[George S.]

Neo-fascist thugs attack book launch of first Greek-Macedonian dictionary printed in Greece



The Greek-Macedonian dictionary was compiled by Vasco Karadzas, born in a slavophone village near Kastoria (D’mbeni or Dendrochori), who became a political refugee after the end of the Greek Civil War. This dictionary is a much needed guide for cultural mediation between standard Greek and standard Macedonian. It grew out of the author’s long-standing work as a translator (he has translated major works of Greek literature including Seferis, Ritsos and Kavafis into Macedonian) and his love for the two languages in his life, Greek and Macedonian. Just before his death in 2003 he handed over the material to members of the Rainbow Party with the wish to see his work published in Greece. This last wish was fulfilled this month when the Greek-Macedonian dictionary was printed in Salonica by the Zora press. In his foreword Mr Karadzas expressed the wish that the dictionary may contribute to a better understanding between the Greek and Macedonian people by improving their linguistic skills. The brutal disruption of the book launch by a group of violent neofascists revealed that Mr Karadzas had been a bit too optimistic in his estimations.



The book launch was organized by the Rainbow Party on June 2, at the Foreign Press Association in Athens. The panel included Dimitris Lithoxoou, writer, Riki Van Boeschoten, associate professor of Social Anthropology at the University of Thessaly, Victor Friedman, Andrew W. Mellon Professor of Balkan and Slavic Linguistics, University of Chicago and Thanasis Parisis, President of the Greek Committee of the European Bureau of Lesser Used Languages. Towards the end of the presentation, just when professor Friedman stressed the urgent need for documenting endangered Macedonian dialects spoken in Greece, free from the police harassment that so often has hampered research, about twenty men wearing black shirts and combat helmets burst into the room, launching violent verbal assaults to the audience and the panellists, singling out some of them by name. They were active members of the Neo-Nazi party Chrysi Avgi (Golden Dawn) who had attended an electoral meeting in central Athens. While the others blocked the door, two of their leaders continued to threaten members of the panel.

[George S.]

Feedback





Hi Risto,



I read a lot of nonsense in the Balkan politics, especially from people who pretend to be "Macedonians"

It is better to ignore L. Georgievsky than to let him talk nonsense and betray the Macedonian people. If federalization of Macedonia is a good thing, then the same thing should be done to Greece, Bulgaria and Illiria? The same races LIVE IN ALL THE Balkan COUNTRIES

What nonsense to come from Ljupchovtsi idiots? And the idea of: “Macedonia, Switzerland of the Balkans”, was propagated by Vancho Mihailov, whom the Germans authorized to form a Macedonian State as opposed to Tito's Macedonia but he refused.



In 1991 after the independence of Macedonia, I suggested to Ivan Lebamoff President of MPO, USA to go to Italy and ask V. Mihailoff to bless the new Macedonian independent state, he went and

Vancho's reply was, forget the Serbian Banovina, pulite si ja Pirinska Makedonia together with majka Bulgaria.



So, this new fuss about a federation comes from hell and it proves that there are vexatious worms amongst ourselves. Igor Pavlovsky published in the Mak. Newspaper "TODAY-Denes" an article by someone Pisevski: all the Macedonians that sided with TITO are traitors. What kind of people are these individuals Risto?



They are shpions.



Dedo Stariot.