Risto Stefov - Articles, Translations & Collaborations

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  • George S.
    Senior Member
    • Aug 2009
    • 10116

    ek Democratic Army firing at enemy positions during the Greek Civil War.

    Artillery guns of the Greek Democratic Army firing at the enemy positions during the Greek Civil War. Soldiers loading artillery. The commander plots a target on a map and gives order to fire. Huge cannon fires, explosion at target enemy positions.

    Location: Greece

    Date: 1948, April
    Duration: 2 min 35 sec
    Sound: No
    Color: Monochrome
    Clip Type: Unedited
    Language: None
    "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
    GOTSE DELCEV

    Comment

    • George S.
      Senior Member
      • Aug 2009
      • 10116

      The Macedonians - 2- Discovery Channel -Ancient Warriors 2 of 4
      "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
      GOTSE DELCEV

      Comment

      • George S.
        Senior Member
        • Aug 2009
        • 10116

        Video Clips And Documentaries




        Critical Past - Clips from the Greek Civil War




        A Name is a Name




        Next Year In Lerin




        Macedonia - The Clip That Shocked Greece




        The Macedonians - Discovery Channel - Ancient Warriors 1 of 4 (Includes Battle of Chaeronea)




        The Macedonians - Discovery Channel - Ancient Warriors 2 of 4 (Includes Battle of Chaeronea)




        The Macedonians - Discovery Channel - Ancient Warriors 3 of 4 (Includes Battle of Chaeronea)




        The Macedonians - Discovery Channel - Ancient Warriors 4 of 4




        Macedonia's Struggle Against Greeks (1904-1908)




        The Edwardians In Colour 03 - Europe on the Brink (Includes France, Scandanavia, Italy, and from 33 minute mark Ottoman Macedonia)




        Greece - Nationalisn Threatens Democracy




        Greek Interview With Macedonia's Foreign Minister About Name Issue



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

        Comment

        • Soldier of Macedon
          Senior Member
          • Sep 2008
          • 13675

          George, what was the purpose of your last post? Did you actually read it?
          In the name of the blood and the sun, the dagger and the gun, Christ protect this soldier, a lion and a Macedonian.

          Comment

          • Risto the Great
            Senior Member
            • Sep 2008
            • 15660

            Probably something akin to walking down memory lane.
            ... but drunk and penniless.
            Risto the Great
            MACEDONIA:ANHEDONIA
            "Holding my breath for the revolution."

            Hey, I wrote a bestseller. Check it out: www.ren-shen.com

            Comment

            • George S.
              Senior Member
              • Aug 2009
              • 10116

              No I was trying to get links to the discovery
              Chanell.LOoks like it didnt work.Clips were interesting..Post deleted.
              Last edited by George S.; 10-21-2014, 07:29 PM.
              "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
              GOTSE DELCEV

              Comment

              • Amphipolis
                Banned
                • Aug 2014
                • 1328

                Originally posted by Pelister View Post
                I was reading something recently about the Macedonian Christian Empire.

                According to Vasil Bogov, the language of Christianity in south east Europe since about 323 AD has been Macedonian, not Greek.

                Macedonia was a Church-State, and Empire.

                The Church was responsible for running schools, education, law etc since about 323 AD in the Macedonian language, not Greek.

                The traditional Macedonian names of MOST OF of the churches on Mt. Athos (Sveta Gora) remind us of their true Macedonian past, not Greek. The names "Hilander" and "Zagorov" first appeared in the late 19th century to represent "Serbian" and "Bulgarian" claims, but they have no history there before then.

                The New Church (Greek Orthodox Church) was a political manifestation. In 1850 the Sultan created a "Greek Patriarch" to rule the Christian subjects of the Ottoman Empire. The New Church directly challenged the old Macedonian Christian Empire - the Greek Orthodox Church began burning and destroying all evidence that the langauge of Christianity and Empire over the last 1,700 years had been Macedonian.
                Any info on this theory or dates? It's the first time I meet it.

                Comment

                • George S.
                  Senior Member
                  • Aug 2009
                  • 10116

                  I'm not surprised by all this as in the bible it says that the macedonians received st paul and his message and The orthodox christianity started.Whereas the greeks did not receive pauls message as they were too steeped in their mythology.
                  "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                  GOTSE DELCEV

                  Comment

                  • spitfire
                    Banned
                    • Aug 2014
                    • 868

                    Only a propagandist of the worst kind would imply that there is any way for Greece to annex anything.
                    It is forbidden through the constitution.
                    And on the contrary the constitution only allows for national sovereignity to be less in very special cases.

                    Do your homework before you post anything.
                    Articles 5, 27 and 28. And that's with a quick reading.
                    Last edited by spitfire; 12-06-2014, 09:42 PM.

                    Comment

                    • makedonche
                      Senior Member
                      • Oct 2008
                      • 3242

                      Spitfire
                      It is forbidden through the constitution.
                      Do your homework before you post anything.
                      Articles 5, 27 and 28. And that's with a quick reading.
                      __________________
                      Is that the same constitution that doesn't allow the country more than it is capable of paying back? And the same one that says Greece will fulfill it's human rights obligations in accordance with International agreements?....there are many things forbidden by the Greek constitution, see how many more you can find that aren't being complied with and stop living in denial!
                      On Delchev's sarcophagus you can read the following inscription: "We swear the future generations to bury these sacred bones in the capital of Independent Macedonia. August 1923 Illinden"

                      Comment

                      • spitfire
                        Banned
                        • Aug 2014
                        • 868

                        Originally posted by makedonche View Post
                        Spitfire

                        Is that the same constitution that doesn't allow the country more than it is capable of paying back? And the same one that says Greece will fulfill it's human rights obligations in accordance with International agreements?....there are many things forbidden by the Greek constitution, see how many more you can find that aren't being complied with and stop living in denial!
                        It's the constitution from 1974 that has those articles, the article 28 bonds Greece with the E.U. therefore any annexation is forbidden, and your country adopted such principles (as every country in the world has) with ammendments in 2002.
                        I can find many more articles about human rights in the greek constituion, your country did not have them specified, but in general in its constitution until 2002.

                        So it was your country that decided to modernize its costitution and to bring it to the standards the greek constitution already had since 1974, and not the other way around.

                        You are in denial my friend.
                        Last edited by spitfire; 12-07-2014, 01:14 AM.

                        Comment

                        • makedonche
                          Senior Member
                          • Oct 2008
                          • 3242

                          Spitfire

                          It's the constitution from 1974 that has those articles, the article 28 bonds Greece with the E.U. therefore any annexation is forbidden, and your country adopted such principles (as every country in the world has) with ammendments in 2002.
                          Ahhhhh I see, so in line with article 28 Greece is bound to respect Human Rights in a accordance with EU standards? That being the case you may want to go and check how many of those have been broken, which then means the constitution has been concurrently broken, so if it's broken on human rights then why wouldn't it be broken on annexation?...or any other grounds for that matter!

                          I can find many more articles about human rights in the greek constituion, your country did not have them specified, but in general in its constitution until 2002.
                          Ok so how many breaches of Human Rights can you find in the Republic of Macedonia, before or after 2002?

                          So it was your country that decided to modernize its costitution and to bring it to the standards the greek constitution already had since 1974, and not the other way around.
                          Spare me! modernised it to the standards of the Greek Constitution! give me a fu#@in break, we would never lower ourselves to your standards, let alone your constitution...which was modified to swindle it's way into the EU!

                          You are in denial my friend.
                          Those in denial need first to discover reality before attempting to advise others of being in denial!....or do you deny this as well!
                          On Delchev's sarcophagus you can read the following inscription: "We swear the future generations to bury these sacred bones in the capital of Independent Macedonia. August 1923 Illinden"

                          Comment

                          • spitfire
                            Banned
                            • Aug 2014
                            • 868

                            Originally posted by makedonche View Post
                            Spitfire

                            Ahhhhh I see, so in line with article 28 Greece is bound to respect Human Rights in a accordance with EU standards? That being the case you may want to go and check how many of those have been broken, which then means the constitution has been concurrently broken, so if it's broken on human rights then why wouldn't it be broken on annexation?...or any other grounds for that matter!
                            No, article 28 among other articles bonds and forms the basis of the E.U. bond and in fact there are also other bonds with international organizations that don't permit any annexation. Greece is bonded in three ways to not perform any annexation. Your country did not until 2002.

                            There are other articles about human rights, which I would gladly translate them for you, but it would take much time to do as there are many and they are specified. Your country did not until 2002.

                            Originally posted by makedonche View Post
                            Ok so how many breaches of Human Rights can you find in the Republic of Macedonia, before or after 2002?
                            What are you talking about? You did not have it in your constitution until 2002.

                            Originally posted by makedonche View Post
                            Spare me! modernised it to the standards of the Greek Constitution! give me a fu#@in break, we would never lower ourselves to your standards, let alone your constitution...which was modified to swindle it's way into the EU!
                            It absolutely did it. As it was about time to do it like every other country in the world.

                            Originally posted by makedonche View Post
                            Those in denial need first to discover reality before attempting to advise others of being in denial!....or do you deny this as well!
                            Still more delusions... . Name one.

                            Comment

                            • George S.
                              Senior Member
                              • Aug 2009
                              • 10116

                              Don't give me CONSTITUTION BULLSHIT.Why did the greeks insist that macedonia should change the constitution to accommodate the greeks no irrendust claims.Soi what why did the greeks wak in and take macedonia inn 1913.They never occupied macedonia before .The only thing they had was a rare greek outposts.After the 1913 annexation and calling it the occupied territories.They said they weren't satisfied with their bit they WANTED more.That speaks VOLUMES.THey still think they are entitled to paeonian lands which is part of macedonia.Greek claims on macedonia are ridiculous.THey are aiming with the name a total monopoly on anything macedonian.Given the paranoia it is scared of little macedonia claiming their lands back.
                              "Ido not want an uprising of people that would leave me at the first failure, I want revolution with citizens able to bear all the temptations to a prolonged struggle, what, because of the fierce political conditions, will be our guide or cattle to the slaughterhouse"
                              GOTSE DELCEV

                              Comment

                              • George S.
                                Senior Member
                                • Aug 2009
                                • 10116

                                A Century of Silence – Chapter 1 – Part 2

                                By Stoian Kochov

                                Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

                                [email protected]

                                May 6, 2015



                                Krsto looked at me for a moment with a sober look on his face and then looked away. He continued: “Later, after that beast was done with me, a young and handsome sergeant serving in this camp, but born of a good mother, came over to see me. He was shaken by my ordeal and took me into a small tent and left me there. Before leaving he said: ‘Try and calm down. The person who did this to you is the most miserable person among all of us here on the island. God will not forgive him for what he did to you. God will not forgive those who inflict pain. Never! Why this fate, why this pain. Dear Lord...’



                                After the young sergeant left I thought that it was my time to die. I will die now I thought. Then I remembered what my grandfather used to say: ‘The happiest person is the person who brings happiness to others and a person who has not suffered knows not how to forgive.’



                                I was bleeding and trembling with fear and concern. I felt like everything in life had faded away. I was overwhelmed by the sense that I would never understand my fate and why this and why I had to die this way. It was night. It was a dark dawn. There was neither light nor sound. All I could hear were the waves at the seashore splashing and coming closer and closer to my tent. There was not a word to be heard anywhere, only silence, as my ill-fated life hung in the balance in this open space among the rocks.



                                That night I had a terrible, painful, restless and sleepless night. It was also terribly lonely. Not a single word was spoken, to be heard, to relieve my loneliness. My fate was hanging in the balance but I had no idea how to live or how to surrender to death. A terrible thought came to mind: ‘Who will write my obituary? Will it be the truth…? And how would I know?’



                                I don’t know when I fell asleep or if I passed out from exhaustion but when I woke I was amazed to be still alive. Life was the strongest miracle in times such as these. But the moment I thought I had learned something was the moment I had to forget it because it led to more pain. I was trying to die but my life was eager to return and so I found myself caught in this endless and silent void. I tried to think about Kiratsa, remembering her long golden blond, braided hair and that’s when I noticed that dawn was breaking. I forgot my pain as I looked up at the beautiful reddish sky becoming brighter with every passing moment...



                                I closed my eyes because a disturbing thought began to creep into my mind. Why did this man do this to me? What is the limit of shame and sin that this man inflicted on me and what did I ever do to him or anyone else for that matter? Where did such rage come from? These thoughts sent a chill down my spine that surged all through my body, making me shiver, twitch, kick and feel awful. I am now a man whose life as been destroyed and whose future has been ruined.



                                I was very troubled and felt like I was going crazy... God, my God! What a disaster! My heart trembled and I had long, long thoughts about what to tell her; my beloved Kiratsa who was waiting for me… Waiting for me for many years so that we could expand our family...”



                                Old man Krsto stopped talking. Suddenly he looked very sad. He stooped his head forward. I noticed droplets of tears hitting the ground. He took a deep breath and resumed talking:



                                “I only had a short time left on my sentence and was due to be released in a few months. I had plans to resume my life in my native Kostur with my beloved Kiratsa and with my son Doncho. I was planning to have many more children...”



                                He stopped talking again, thought for a moment and then looked down at his own crotch. Then he looked at me but had nothing to say. I too stared at him without saying a word.



                                Then suddenly, breaking the silence, the old rebel Krsto Krapov began to speak and said: “A person who has not lived can never know or understand what life was like in the deserted island Anafi. It is very difficult for me to tell you what I had gone through on the island. Outside of my tortures, the summers were intolerable and the winters were horribly cold.



                                No person can ever forget that hell. There are moments of that part of my life that I simply don’t want to remember and other moments I just don’t want to speak about. My life was so insignificant that I barely thought about it, and yet my thoughts keep taking me there...”



                                The old rebel told me a lot about life in the camp. He also told me that since then no one wanted to get close to him. Nobody wanted to share their lives with him. Then, after he lost his beloved Kiratsa, he was all alone living in a void, in an atmosphere of silence. Life flowed all around him yet he was unable to establish contact with anyone. No one had the desire or was able to help him. Human contact was one of the most essential features in his life.



                                All the time I sat there motionless, like a statue, and I could not believe my own eyes and ears? After two and a half decades of being absent from my beautiful Kostur, I had finally met a person, willing to die for Kostur, who not only told me intimate parts of his personal life but played for me the most beautiful Macedonian songs on an instrument I had never seen before; an old instrument that my great ancestors used to play.



                                Even my thoughts and memories from my own youth began to flood back to me, thanks to this old man and to God for bringing us together. We sat there and talked until midnight and even had a few drinks.



                                The uncomfortable silence lasted a long time before the old man raised his head, looked at me with sad eyes and asked: “Do you remember the old days…?”



                                But before I had a chance to reply he began to talk again: “Oh, my good friend,” he said, “You came back to your roots, to your ancestral home, to your memories that hurt the most. You came home where you were born.



                                The people of Kostur here have closed hearts, obsessed with themselves and their families, skeptical about a bright future and hence immune to disturbing surprises. The war years 1940 – 1949, the Second World War and the Greek Civil War did not bring us together but rather separated us and sent us all over the world. Now I no longer believe in any “great truth” or in any “great people”. There is no longer a need to sell the idea of ‘brotherhood and unity’, but only to respect our differences. While we are living ‘afflicted’ we cannot call the Greeks our ‘brothers’.



                                Yes, Kostur, our birthplace, is a city which has left many human fates open…” he said and went silent again.



                                He slowly raised his head, like a person feeling like someone was watching them, looked around and then looked at me. I responded by slowly raising my eyes and then looking into his. I thought to myself: Oh, Jesus, the poor man what he has gone through!



                                He told me so many things that I did not expect to hear and by now his throat must have tightened because I could hardly hear what he was saying.



                                He must have realized that he never did answer my question when I asked him who he was so, after mumbling for a while, he piped up and said: “My name is Krsto Krapov and I was the youngest rebel leader during the Ilinden Uprising. My father was Done Krapov. When he died he was buried in an enemy grave. When my mother Vana Krapova heard the bad news her heart broke. I don’t know who buried her or where she was buried. No one wants to talk about those days.



                                We Macedonians in those days allowed the Greeks to come here but did not think about the problems they would bring us. Those problems seemed very distant then. But now that we are being persecuted and suffering, we are full of worries and feel sick and unsure of ourselves.



                                Now, every time I think about it, my hands begin to shake. Yes, I am a member of the revolutionary Krapov family. My great-great grandfather Grigor was a fisherman that specialized in catching large carp (krap in Macedonian) and sold his catch at the famous Kostur fish market; hence the name Krapov. The Ottoman too called him Krapov which in time became a respected name.



                                Now I am living alone. Completely alone! I am left without a family and that is my punishment... Why… I don’t know! I never wronged anyone, yet nobody wants to talk to me and I too don’t want to talk to anyone. I will not accept anything and I would not give anyone anything.



                                He spread his hands and fingers apart, placed them over his cheeks and began to pull down on his face, stretching his skin on his forehead and over his eyes. Watching him do that made me very sad and very happy to have met such a person, a man who was willing to frankly talk about his past with a complete stranger! I was indeed honoured!



                                But I do have one regret for which, to this day, I cannot forgive myself and that is about asking him the question: “Did you ever think of committing suicide at the worst times on the island?”



                                He replied with an abrupt military style answer: “No! Never! My love remained with me like an endless dream full of a rainbow of complex colours. She belonged only to me and we belong to our people, to the people of Kostur…”



                                I was dazzled by his answer as I began to interpret his words. Then I came back to reality. He was still silent. He was waiting for me to say something. He felt disappointed as I said nothing and that made me very sorry to this day... It was too much for me and I did not know what to say so I said: “The past brought us together!” He then placed his finger on his temple and said:



                                “Our Kostur, gifted by God to light the path of the Macedonian rebels... Kostur is a spiritual source of our ancient Macedonian and biblical past, a foundation built by our ancestors, and now it is someone else’s; we have allowed it to fall into foreign hands...” Very powerful words indeed!



                                I thought a lot about what the old rebel said and I am bothered to this day as to how we have allowed ourselves to be manipulated by outsiders and foreigners and have fallen so low?!



                                Strangers organized the spirit of our division and divided us into compromised (ELAS and Communists) and uncompromised Macedonians (Rebels, children of the Ilinden Uprising).



                                I am afraid we were all horribly in love with our slavery... fighting each other for foreign interests in the name of some foreign ideology that made no sense to us… Thinking about it now blows my mind… How could we have been so nave and stupid?



                                The Kostur Region villages and Kostur itself looked like a burnt forest. We did this to ourselves when we brought the war home. This was when the Macedonians from ELAS and the Macedonian Communists were fleeing from the war and were looking to save themselves by joining Tito’s army, while fighting the rebels and children of the Ilinden Uprising in Kostur and the Kostur villages. Macedonian ELAS fighters and communists were dreaming of internationalism and foreign ideologies when they were attacking the Kostur rebels and labeling them “nationalists” and burning their homes.



                                Thinking about this reminded me of the story of the beasts and the fire: “When the great and powerful beasts were fleeing the terrible fire, only the tiny humming bird with a mouthful of water was flying towards the burning forest. The bigger and smarter beasts warned the little bird that what it was doing was crazy and impossible and its attempts were futile. To that the little bird replied: ‘I am doing this because it is the right thing to do. This is exactly what we all need to do’…” This is a lesson for the people of Kostur. This is exactly what they should have done… stay and fight to defend Kostur and save their homes and their future. The only ones that stayed and fought were the Kostur rebels. Yes, that is exactly what happened but there are some who do not want to admit that we could not have defended our homeland by leaving it.



                                After they (the Macedonian ELAS fighters and communists) left, many questions were opened for Macedonia’s history!? It was a time, as my grandfather used to say, when: “A wise man had more use of his enemies than a crazy man of his friends.”



                                The old man made a short throat noise as if wanting to say something. I looked at him and it looked like something was bothering him, something was on his mind. He finally spoke up and asked:



                                “Why do we think that people in the old days were happier and life was simpler? Why do we continue to reminisce of better times? Why do we look at old photos and feel sad? Why do we listen with admiration to stories of the deeds of our ancestors? Do you want to change something from our past!?



                                It was a time when the lives of Macedonians, especially the lives of the people of Kostur Region, were filled with anger and uncertainty. I left a beautiful wife and child, for whom I cared deeply in my heart, who I considered my greatest heritage and when I returned to my sacred home I found my life in ruins.



                                My grandfather used to say: ‘They separated and divided us and today we hear all sorts of foolishness that a wise person from Kostur needs to be silent in order to protect his hearth, and if he does do that then there will be eternal warmth for them’...”



                                I said: “You are an honest man...”



                                Impatiently he replied: “I am a rebel and I always tell the truth! If I was truly a hypocrite do you really think I would have shown you my face?”



                                He paused for a moment, looked at me and continued: “We lost Kostur in less than ten years (1940 to 1949) because we did not act wisely and responsibly. Exactly in those dire years we divided ourselves into rebels and ELAS fighters without regard to what we were doing to ourselves. We allowed outside propaganda to fill our heads with garbage and acted cruelly against one another. We allowed outsiders to impose their will and lead us into oblivion without any alternatives… We accepted their lies and propaganda wholesale and turned on each other like mad dogs… They wanted a Macedonia without Macedonians and we were only too eager to give it to them. The Greek Andartes (terrorists) causing havoc in Macedonia in 1903 used to say: ‘We want your Macedonia but without Macedonians’!”



                                * * *



                                ЕДНОВЕКОВНО МОЛЧЕЊЕ (1913 - 2013) - Глава 1 - 2



                                Стојан Кочов



                                Наjпосле еден млад наредник - од маjка роден, служеше во логорот, млад и убав, многу потресен, ме внесе во еден мал шатор ме остави и ми рече: Смири се, човеку, тоj што ти го направи ова е наjнесреќен мегу сите што сме тука на островот. Нему не само родот твоj, туку и господ нема да му прости. Тие што нанесуваат болка не им простува човештвото. Не! Каква е оваа судбина, каква е оваа болка. Господе мили...



                                Дошло време да се умира - ќе се умира, додадов и се присетив на дедо ми кога велеше:

                                “Наjсреќен човек е оноj коj што на другите луѓе ги правил среќни,а човекот што не страдал не знае да простува.”



                                Крварев и се тресев од некаков страв и гнев. Чувствував како ми згаснува с во животот. Ме наваса некакво чувство, дека нема да го разберам утринското умирање. Ноќ е. Црна мугра е. Ни светло, ни звук, а jас упорно во темницата ги слушам високите морски шлапови кои ми се присторува дека ќе ме однесат со с шатор. Нема збор. Молчи зборот и збира лоши болештини во празнотиjата на камењарот.



                                Избувлив, немирно живнувам во ноќите. Нема нежен збор, како да се срушени грубостите на светот, и не можам да видам и незнам каде да се фатам. Молчат и моите раце, како да се предавам на смртта, а една мисла, незрела, не умна: “Коj ќе ми jа напише посмртницата? И дали верно ќе гласи… наодот?!”



                                Во ноќта, при првиот морничав и немирен сон, истоштен заспивав со секнато офкање. Ете, си велам животот бил наjголемо чудо во таквите времиња. Во мигот кога ќе помислев дека нешто сум научил за животот, во тоj исти миг требаше да го заборавам, оти сето тоа ми раѓаше уште поголема болка. Умирав, а животот поново желно ми се враќаше, но во некаква бескраjна и тивка празнина. Си jа спомнувам Кираца и неjзините долги руски плетенки,налик на млада пченица.Зората веќе беше ги прегнала своите црвени атови и од мислата ме раздели...



                                Ги затворав очите, ми се jавуваа разни мисли. Каде е границата на срамот и гревот што ми го направи овоj човек? Од каде таков насобран бес во него? Студенило ме облива и од гради ми корне од последните желби што многу тешки ми доаѓаа. Ме обли накаков човечки срам. Сега сум човек со уништен живот, уништена иднината.



                                Ама, ќе пукнам од мака… Боже, боже! Каква несреќа! Срцето ми трепереше и долго, долго размислував како ќе ѝ кажам на моjата љубена Кираца, коjа ме чека долги години да го зголемиме родот наш.



                                Свирачот замолкна огорчен. Ме натажи. Видов: солзи му навираат во очите. Со тешка болка ми продолжи:



                                “Ми остануваа уште само неколку месеци да бидам на островот и потоа да се вратам и да го продолжиме семеjниот живот во родниот Костур со моjата љубена Кираца, и синчето Дончо…”



                                Се замисли за миг, несвесно погледна во своjот полов дел, ама лузните веќе не се гледаа. Следеше долга тишина. Се гледавме во очи, без да проговориме ни збор.



                                Во еден миг, младиот воjвода Крсте Крапов, ми вели: Никогаш не може човек да знае и да го сфати каков беше животот на тоj пусти остров Анафи. Всушност, ако не го преживее самиот. Многу е тешко, тоа што го доживеав таму и самиот да го обjаснам. Летата беа не подносливи. Но и зимите беа ужасни: студот ни ги штипеше образите, им jа затегнуваше кожата, ни ги глодаше ушите. Секоj чекор беше смртоносен, ако нагазиш на подзамрзнат камен.



                                Од тоj пекол не може човек с да запамти. Има и такви моменти кои просто не сакам ни да ги споменам зашто… Моjот живот беше толку безначаен што едвам и дека мислев на него, па сепак помислата на исчезнувањето на друг начин, ме правеше бесмислен…



                                Долго ми раскажуваше за логорскиот живот: за тоа дека од тогаш никоj не му се доближи, со никого не се сврзал, никоj не сакаше и не бил способен своjот живот да го дели со него. Но, откако jа изгубил и своjата љубена Кираца, сега честопати го опкружува воздухот на осаменоста. Некоjа нема атмосвера. Животот тече околу него, а тоj се чувствува немоќен да воспостави контакт и никаква желба и копнеж не можеа да му помогнат. Тоа беше еден од наjважните белези на неговиот живот.



                                Цело време седам скаменет, како статуа, и не можем да им поверувам сопствени очи и уши? По две и пол децении - случаjни средби без ниту еден разменет збор во моjот преубав Костур да ги слушам наjубавите македонски песни од стариот инструмент на моите предци, а и да ги чуjам наjболните сеќавање од човекот коj умираше за Костур и Македониjа.



                                Како во бунило почнуват да ги враќам моите младешки спомени. Помнењето, фала му на бога, уште добро ме држи, и ние разговаравме до полнок, па дури и се напивме.



                                Неприjатен молк.



                                А тоj тажно и ладно ме гледа со своите избледени, граорести очи и ми вели:



                                Вие, можеби не се сеќавате на тие денови?



                                Чудно е тоа што боли…



                                Ех, моj приjателе, си се вратил на корените - ДОМА,каj спомените што наjмногу болат. Значи; потомците почнаа да се враќаат ДОМА.



                                Костурчани се луѓе со затворено срце, опседнати со себе и своето семеjство, скептични кон светлата иднина и оттаму имуни на грозоморните изненадувања. Воjните од 1940 - 1949 година: Втората светска воjна и Граѓанската воjна не не заобиколиjа, туку не распарчиjа. Сега не веруваме во “големите вистини” ниту во “големите луѓе”. Повеќе, никоj никому не би требало да му jа продава тезата за “братство и единство”, туку за почитување на разликите. Додека сме живи ние напатените, нема Грците да ги сметаме за “браќа”.



                                Да, нашиот роден град Костур е град коj остави многу човечки судбинини отворени. И пак замолча.



                                Тоj полека jа подигна главата, како што тоа го прават луѓето кога ќе почувствуваат дека некоj ги следи, погледа наокулу и во мене. Му возвратив полека на погледот и си реков во себе: “О, Исусе, какво понижување!”



                                Ми го кажа она што наjмалку не очекував да го чуjам. Во грлото нешто го стегна, па едваj изусти.



                                Jаска се викам Крсто Крапов. Бев наjмладиот комитски воjвода. Татко ми Доне Крапов е закопан во братоjадската гробница, а по лошата вест, на маjка ми Вана Крапова ѝ се распарчи срцето. Ниту знам каде е ниту, коj jа закопа. Сега, за тоа време никоj ништо не кажува.



                                Ние Македонците во тие години - од кога доjде Гркот, не мислевме на проблемите што ни се чинеа далечни, сега сме полни со грижи кога не jавнаа маките нанесени од прогоните, ги чувствуваме многу болно и станаа с по нерешливи.



                                Но, сега по малку ми треперат рацете додека мислам на сето тоа. Да, jас од Краповото семе, а името Крапов, прадедо ми Григор, бил рибар и фаќал големи крапови, костурски прочуени риби. Така го завикале уште Турците и многу го почитувале…



                                Сега живем сам. Наполно сам. Останав без род, а тоа е наjнечовечка казна… Никогаш никому не му зборувам. Не примам ништо. Не давам ништо. Живеам, но не сакам да си го намнисувам минатото.



                                Ги рашири дланките и прстите. Почна да си ги истегнуваше образите, истуркуваjќи ги борите од челото, ги затегнуваше очните капаците од избледените очи, а jас чувствував наплив на емоции: возбудува, восхитува за ради тоа, што се сретнав токму со таков човек, коj ќе ми го раскаже минатото без неметливост, сосема искрено!



                                И ден - денес не можам да си простан, зошто го прашав:



                                - Дали некогаш си се обидел да се самоубиеш за време на суровите преживувања на островот?



                                Ми одговори восторжено, со некаков воjнички став:



                                Не! Никогаш! Љубовта за мене ми остана како бескраен сон, недоглед од многу сложени виножитни бои. Таа ми припаѓаше само мене, а ние на своjот народ, на овоj костурски род…



                                Како занесен, почнав да ги толкувам неговите зборови. Се вратив во реалноста. Тоj замолча. Го чекаше моjот одговор. Се почувствува разочаран. Жал ми е… Ова е веќе премногу што го чув. И му реков: “Минатото не зближи!”.Тоj го постави показалецот на слепоочницата и ми рече:



                                Костур наш, како да бил даруван од бога - да биде светилка на комитскиот пат… Тоj духовен извор и виор, исконски и библиски опстоjувал, се ѕидал и градел од нашите предци, а сега е туѓ, им го утуѓиме…



                                И ден-денес ме jади jанџа, како и зошто дозволивме да ни го организираат братоjадството!?



                                Тугинците ни ги организираа духовите на поделбата и не поделиjа на компромисни (Еласити, Комунисти) и безкомпромисни Македонци (сите родољбци-чеда на Илинденските комити).



                                Страшно бевме заљубени во робството… И, сега, таквите навраќања, ми го згрутчуваа умот…



                                Костур и Костурските села личеа на една опожарена шума, каде македонските Еласити, Комунисти бегале од огнот бараjќи спас во армиjата на Тито, додека комитите го бранеа Костур и Костурските села. Македонските Еласити и комунисти, сепак и понатаму глумеа интернационалисти, често ги напаѓаа комитите паради националисти и им ги опожарува нимните к’шти.



                                А тоа ме потсетува на приказната: “Кога од големиот пожар бегале големите и силни ѕверки, само малото колибри, со малку водичка во клунчето летало токму кон шумата. На опомените на попаметните” дека е лудост тоа што го прави, дека обидот е залуден и невозможен, птичката одговорила дека го прави токму тоа што е реално - ни помалку ни повеќе, туку токму она што треба, сака и може да го стори за да jа запре несреќата што се прави над Кoстурчани. А тоа го правеа и Комитите и останаа сами да го бранат Костур. Да, токму така и со нашите Македонци - Еласити и Комунисти, но има и такви кои не сакат да си признаат дека со напуштање на родното место не се брани татковина.



                                По нивното напуштање, остануваат многу отворени прашања за македонската историjа!? Тоа беше време, како што велеше дедо ми, кога: “На мудриот повеќе му користат неприjателите отколку на лудиот приjателите.”



                                Го гледам како се згрчува и од внатре го jаде некаква jанѕа, а каj мене роj од прашања:



                                Зошто мислиме дека порано луѓето биле посреќни, а животот по едноставен, зошто постоjано правиме реминисценции за добрите ввремиња? Зошто со тага ги разгледуваме старите фотографии и ги слушаме со восхит подвизите на нашите предци. Дали сакаме да промениме нешто од нашето минато!?



                                Значи, тоа беше време кое: животот на Македонците, посебно на костурчани им беше исполнет со гнев и со неизвесност. Кога се вратив во Костур- дома во овоа свето место, наjдов еден изурнат живот, а оставив убава жена и дете кои ги носев длабоко закопани во моето срце, како наjголемо богатсто.



                                Дедо ми велеше: “Не разделиjа и не поделиjа и ете денес, од секого ќе слушнеш глупави мисли и разни Богохулења, но мудриот костурчанец треба да ги премолчува и да си го чува огништето, а во него ќе има вечна топлина…”



                                Му велам: - Ти си искрен човек…



                                Тоj, нестрпливо ми вели:



                                “Jас сум Комита и jа кажувам вистината, ако навистина бев дволичен, мислиш дека ќе го носев баш ова лице?”



                                Ние Костурчаните, го изгубивме Костур за не цели десет години од 1940 до 1949 година, затоа што не постапивме мудро и одговорно, токму во тие судбоносни години се поделивме на Комити и Еласити и станавме луѓе без мерка спрема самите себеси; плашливи, предизвикувачи на неред, делувавме сурово, а требаше одамна, еднаш за секогаш, да се отргневме од нашето поданство и од тугинците да ни го наметнуваат своjот начин на стратегиjа и визиjа како безалтернативен избор… Тугинците, не процениjа дека им ги прифаќаме лагите, дека сме милосливи спрема нив, а тие с повеќе со таквите лаги, н хранеа и не силее во нашето братоjадство… Тие jа сакаа Македониjа без Македонците. Така веле андартите кога доjдоа 1903 година.





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                                A Century of Silence – Chapter 1 – Part 2

                                By Stoian Kochov

                                Translated and edited by Risto Stefov

                                [email protected]

                                May 6, 2015



                                Krsto looked at me for a moment with a sober look on his face and then looked away. He continued: “Later, after that beast was done with me, a young and handsome sergeant serving in this camp, but born of a good mother, came over to see me. He was shaken by my ordeal and took me into a small tent and left me there. Before leaving he said: ‘Try and calm down. The person who did this to you is the most miserable person among all of us here on the island. God will not forgive him for what he did to you. God will not forgive those who inflict pain. Never! Why this fate, why this pain. Dear Lord...’



                                After the young sergeant left I thought that it was my time to die. I will die now I thought. Then I remembered what my grandfather used to say: ‘The happiest person is the person who brings happiness to others and a person who has not suffered knows not how to forgive.’



                                I was bleeding and trembling with fear and concern. I felt like everything in life had faded away. I was overwhelmed by the sense that I would never understand my fate and why this and why I had to die this way. It was night. It was a dark dawn. There was neither light nor sound. All I could hear were the waves at the seashore splashing and coming closer and closer to my tent. There was not a word to be heard anywhere, only silence, as my ill-fated life hung in the balance in this open space among the rocks.



                                That night I had a terrible, painful, restless and sleepless night. It was also terribly lonely. Not a single word was spoken, to be heard, to relieve my loneliness. My fate was hanging in the balance but I had no idea how to live or how to surrender to death. A terrible thought came to mind: ‘Who will write my obituary? Will it be the truth…? And how would I know?’



                                I don’t know when I fell asleep or if I passed out from exhaustion but when I woke I was amazed to be still alive. Life was the strongest miracle in times such as these. But the moment I thought I had learned something was the moment I had to forget it because it led to more pain. I was trying to die but my life was eager to return and so I found myself caught in this endless and silent void. I tried to think about Kiratsa, remembering her long golden blond, braided hair and that’s when I noticed that dawn was breaking. I forgot my pain as I looked up at the beautiful reddish sky becoming brighter with every passing moment...



                                I closed my eyes because a disturbing thought began to creep into my mind. Why did this man do this to me? What is the limit of shame and sin that this man inflicted on me and what did I ever do to him or anyone else for that matter? Where did such rage come from? These thoughts sent a chill down my spine that surged all through my body, making me shiver, twitch, kick and feel awful. I am now a man whose life as been destroyed and whose future has been ruined.



                                I was very troubled and felt like I was going crazy... God, my God! What a disaster! My heart trembled and I had long, long thoughts about what to tell her; my beloved Kiratsa who was waiting for me… Waiting for me for many years so that we could expand our family...”



                                Old man Krsto stopped talking. Suddenly he looked very sad. He stooped his head forward. I noticed droplets of tears hitting the ground. He took a deep breath and resumed talking:



                                “I only had a short time left on my sentence and was due to be released in a few months. I had plans to resume my life in my native Kostur with my beloved Kiratsa and with my son Doncho. I was planning to have many more children...”



                                He stopped talking again, thought for a moment and then looked down at his own crotch. Then he looked at me but had nothing to say. I too stared at him without saying a word.



                                Then suddenly, breaking the silence, the old rebel Krsto Krapov began to speak and said: “A person who has not lived can never know or understand what life was like in the deserted island Anafi. It is very difficult for me to tell you what I had gone through on the island. Outside of my tortures, the summers were intolerable and the winters were horribly cold.



                                No person can ever forget that hell. There are moments of that part of my life that I simply don’t want to remember and other moments I just don’t want to speak about. My life was so insignificant that I barely thought about it, and yet my thoughts keep taking me there...”



                                The old rebel told me a lot about life in the camp. He also told me that since then no one wanted to get close to him. Nobody wanted to share their lives with him. Then, after he lost his beloved Kiratsa, he was all alone living in a void, in an atmosphere of silence. Life flowed all around him yet he was unable to establish contact with anyone. No one had the desire or was able to help him. Human contact was one of the most essential features in his life.



                                All the time I sat there motionless, like a statue, and I could not believe my own eyes and ears? After two and a half decades of being absent from my beautiful Kostur, I had finally met a person, willing to die for Kostur, who not only told me intimate parts of his personal life but played for me the most beautiful Macedonian songs on an instrument I had never seen before; an old instrument that my great ancestors used to play.



                                Even my thoughts and memories from my own youth began to flood back to me, thanks to this old man and to God for bringing us together. We sat there and talked until midnight and even had a few drinks.



                                The uncomfortable silence lasted a long time before the old man raised his head, looked at me with sad eyes and asked: “Do you remember the old days…?”



                                But before I had a chance to reply he began to talk again: “Oh, my good friend,” he said, “You came back to your roots, to your ancestral home, to your memories that hurt the most. You came home where you were born.



                                The people of Kostur here have closed hearts, obsessed with themselves and their families, skeptical about a bright future and hence immune to disturbing surprises. The war years 1940 – 1949, the Second World War and the Greek Civil War did not bring us together but rather separated us and sent us all over the world. Now I no longer believe in any “great truth” or in any “great people”. There is no longer a need to sell the idea of ‘brotherhood and unity’, but only to respect our differences. While we are living ‘afflicted’ we cannot call the Greeks our ‘brothers’.



                                Yes, Kostur, our birthplace, is a city which has left many human fates open…” he said and went silent again.



                                He slowly raised his head, like a person feeling like someone was watching them, looked around and then looked at me. I responded by slowly raising my eyes and then looking into his. I thought to myself: Oh, Jesus, the poor man what he has gone through!



                                He told me so many things that I did not expect to hear and by now his throat must have tightened because I could hardly hear what he was saying.



                                He must have realized that he never did answer my question when I asked him who he was so, after mumbling for a while, he piped up and said: “My name is Krsto Krapov and I was the youngest rebel leader during the Ilinden Uprising. My father was Done Krapov. When he died he was buried in an enemy grave. When my mother Vana Krapova heard the bad news her heart broke. I don’t know who buried her or where she was buried. No one wants to talk about those days.



                                We Macedonians in those days allowed the Greeks to come here but did not think about the problems they would bring us. Those problems seemed very distant then. But now that we are being persecuted and suffering, we are full of worries and feel sick and unsure of ourselves.



                                Now, every time I think about it, my hands begin to shake. Yes, I am a member of the revolutionary Krapov family. My great-great grandfather Grigor was a fisherman that specialized in catching large carp (krap in Macedonian) and sold his catch at the famous Kostur fish market; hence the name Krapov. The Ottoman too called him Krapov which in time became a respected name.



                                Now I am living alone. Completely alone! I am left without a family and that is my punishment... Why… I don’t know! I never wronged anyone, yet nobody wants to talk to me and I too don’t want to talk to anyone. I will not accept anything and I would not give anyone anything.



                                He spread his hands and fingers apart, placed them over his cheeks and began to pull down on his face, stretching his skin on his forehead and over his eyes. Watching him do that made me very sad and very happy to have met such a person, a man who was willing to frankly talk about his past with a complete stranger! I was indeed honoured!



                                But I do have one regret for which, to this day, I cannot forgive myself and that is about asking him the question: “Did you ever think of committing suicide at the worst times on the island?”



                                He replied with an abrupt military style answer: “No! Never! My love remained with me like an endless dream full of a rainbow of complex colours. She belonged only to me and we belong to our people, to the people of Kostur…”



                                I was dazzled by his answer as I began to interpret his words. Then I came back to reality. He was still silent. He was waiting for me to say something. He felt disappointed as I said nothing and that made me very sorry to this day... It was too much for me and I did not know what to say so I said: “The past brought us together!” He then placed his finger on his temple and said:



                                “Our Kostur, gifted by God to light the path of the Macedonian rebels... Kostur is a spiritual source of our ancient Macedonian and biblical past, a foundation built by our ancestors, and now it is someone else’s; we have allowed it to fall into foreign hands...” Very powerful words indeed!



                                I thought a lot about what the old rebel said and I am bothered to this day as to how we have allowed ourselves to be manipulated by outsiders and foreigners and have fallen so low?!



                                Strangers organized the spirit of our division and divided us into compromised (ELAS and Communists) and uncompromised Macedonians (Rebels, children of the Ilinden Uprising).



                                I am afraid we were all horribly in love with our slavery... fighting each other for foreign interests in the name of some foreign ideology that made no sense to us… Thinking about it now blows my mind… How could we have been so nave and stupid?



                                The Kostur Region villages and Kostur itself looked like a burnt forest. We did this to ourselves when we brought the war home. This was when the Macedonians from ELAS and the Macedonian Communists were fleeing from the war and were looking to save themselves by joining Tito’s army, while fighting the rebels and children of the Ilinden Uprising in Kostur and the Kostur villages. Macedonian ELAS fighters and communists were dreaming of internationalism and foreign ideologies when they were attacking the Kostur rebels and labeling them “nationalists” and burning their homes.



                                Thinking about this reminded me of the story of the beasts and the fire: “When the great and powerful beasts were fleeing the terrible fire, only the tiny humming bird with a mouthful of water was flying towards the burning forest. The bigger and smarter beasts warned the little bird that what it was doing was crazy and impossible and its attempts were futile. To that the little bird replied: ‘I am doing this because it is the right thing to do. This is exactly what we all need to do’…” This is a lesson for the people of Kostur. This is exactly what they should have done… stay and fight to defend Kostur and save their homes and their future. The only ones that stayed and fought were the Kostur rebels. Yes, that is exactly what happened but there are some who do not want to admit that we could not have defended our homeland by leaving it.



                                After they (the Macedonian ELAS fighters and communists) left, many questions were opened for Macedonia’s history!? It was a time, as my grandfather used to say, when: “A wise man had more use of his enemies than a crazy man of his friends.”



                                The old man made a short throat noise as if wanting to say something. I looked at him and it looked like something was bothering him, something was on his mind. He finally spoke up and asked:



                                “Why do we think that people in the old days were happier and life was simpler? Why do we continue to reminisce of better times? Why do we look at old photos and feel sad? Why do we listen with admiration to stories of the deeds of our ancestors? Do you want to change something from our past!?



                                It was a time when the lives of Macedonians, especially the lives of the people of Kostur Region, were filled with anger and uncertainty. I left a beautiful wife and child, for whom I cared deeply in my heart, who I considered my greatest heritage and when I returned to my sacred home I found my life in ruins.



                                My grandfather used to say: ‘They separated and divided us and today we hear all sorts of foolishness that a wise person from Kostur needs to be silent in order to protect his hearth, and if he does do that then there will be eternal warmth for them’...”



                                I said: “You are an honest man...”



                                Impatiently he replied: “I am a rebel and I always tell the truth! If I was truly a hypocrite do you really think I would have shown you my face?”



                                He paused for a moment, looked at me and continued: “We lost Kostur in less than ten years (1940 to 1949) because we did not act wisely and responsibly. Exactly in those dire years we divided ourselves into rebels and ELAS fighters without regard to what we were doing to ourselves. We allowed outside propaganda to fill our heads with garbage and acted cruelly against one another. We allowed outsiders to impose their will and lead us into oblivion without any alternatives… We accepted their lies and propaganda wholesale and turned on each other like mad dogs… They wanted a Macedonia without Macedonians and we were only too eager to give it to them. The Greek Andartes (terrorists) causing havoc in Macedonia in 1903 used to say: ‘We want your Macedonia but without Macedonians’!”



                                * * *



                                ЕДНОВЕКОВНО МОЛЧЕЊЕ (1913 - 2013) - Глава 1 - 2



                                Стојан Кочов



                                Наjпосле еден млад наредник - од маjка роден, служеше во логорот, млад и убав, многу потресен, ме внесе во еден мал шатор ме остави и ми рече: Смири се, човеку, тоj што ти го направи ова е наjнесреќен мегу сите што сме тука на островот. Нему не само родот твоj, туку и господ нема да му прости. Тие што нанесуваат болка не им простува човештвото. Не! Каква е оваа судбина, каква е оваа болка. Господе мили...



                                Дошло време да се умира - ќе се умира, додадов и се присетив на дедо ми кога велеше:

                                “Наjсреќен човек е оноj коj што на другите луѓе ги правил среќни,а човекот што не страдал не знае да простува.”



                                Крварев и се тресев од некаков страв и гнев. Чувствував како ми згаснува с во животот. Ме наваса некакво чувство, дека нема да го разберам утринското умирање. Ноќ е. Црна мугра е. Ни светло, ни звук, а jас упорно во темницата ги слушам високите морски шлапови кои ми се присторува дека ќе ме однесат со с шатор. Нема збор. Молчи зборот и збира лоши болештини во празнотиjата на камењарот.



                                Избувлив, немирно живнувам во ноќите. Нема нежен збор, како да се срушени грубостите на светот, и не можам да видам и незнам каде да се фатам. Молчат и моите раце, како да се предавам на смртта, а една мисла, незрела, не умна: “Коj ќе ми jа напише посмртницата? И дали верно ќе гласи… наодот?!”



                                Во ноќта, при првиот морничав и немирен сон, истоштен заспивав со секнато офкање. Ете, си велам животот бил наjголемо чудо во таквите времиња. Во мигот кога ќе помислев дека нешто сум научил за животот, во тоj исти миг требаше да го заборавам, оти сето тоа ми раѓаше уште поголема болка. Умирав, а животот поново желно ми се враќаше, но во некаква бескраjна и тивка празнина. Си jа спомнувам Кираца и неjзините долги руски плетенки,налик на млада пченица.Зората веќе беше ги прегнала своите црвени атови и од мислата ме раздели...



                                Ги затворав очите, ми се jавуваа разни мисли. Каде е границата на срамот и гревот што ми го направи овоj човек? Од каде таков насобран бес во него? Студенило ме облива и од гради ми корне од последните желби што многу тешки ми доаѓаа. Ме обли накаков човечки срам. Сега сум човек со уништен живот, уништена иднината.



                                Ама, ќе пукнам од мака… Боже, боже! Каква несреќа! Срцето ми трепереше и долго, долго размислував како ќе ѝ кажам на моjата љубена Кираца, коjа ме чека долги години да го зголемиме родот наш.



                                Свирачот замолкна огорчен. Ме натажи. Видов: солзи му навираат во очите. Со тешка болка ми продолжи:



                                “Ми остануваа уште само неколку месеци да бидам на островот и потоа да се вратам и да го продолжиме семеjниот живот во родниот Костур со моjата љубена Кираца, и синчето Дончо…”



                                Се замисли за миг, несвесно погледна во своjот полов дел, ама лузните веќе не се гледаа. Следеше долга тишина. Се гледавме во очи, без да проговориме ни збор.



                                Во еден миг, младиот воjвода Крсте Крапов, ми вели: Никогаш не може човек да знае и да го сфати каков беше животот на тоj пусти остров Анафи. Всушност, ако не го преживее самиот. Многу е тешко, тоа што го доживеав таму и самиот да го обjаснам. Летата беа не подносливи. Но и зимите беа ужасни: студот ни ги штипеше образите, им jа затегнуваше кожата, ни ги глодаше ушите. Секоj чекор беше смртоносен, ако нагазиш на подзамрзнат камен.



                                Од тоj пекол не може човек с да запамти. Има и такви моменти кои просто не сакам ни да ги споменам зашто… Моjот живот беше толку безначаен што едвам и дека мислев на него, па сепак помислата на исчезнувањето на друг начин, ме правеше бесмислен…



                                Долго ми раскажуваше за логорскиот живот: за тоа дека од тогаш никоj не му се доближи, со никого не се сврзал, никоj не сакаше и не бил способен своjот живот да го дели со него. Но, откако jа изгубил и своjата љубена Кираца, сега честопати го опкружува воздухот на осаменоста. Некоjа нема атмосвера. Животот тече околу него, а тоj се чувствува немоќен да воспостави контакт и никаква желба и копнеж не можеа да му помогнат. Тоа беше еден од наjважните белези на неговиот живот.



                                Цело време седам скаменет, како статуа, и не можем да им поверувам сопствени очи и уши? По две и пол децении - случаjни средби без ниту еден разменет збор во моjот преубав Костур да ги слушам наjубавите македонски песни од стариот инструмент на моите предци, а и да ги чуjам наjболните сеќавање од човекот коj умираше за Костур и Македониjа.



                                Како во бунило почнуват да ги враќам моите младешки спомени. Помнењето, фала му на бога, уште добро ме држи, и ние разговаравме до полнок, па дури и се напивме.



                                Неприjатен молк.



                                А тоj тажно и ладно ме гледа со своите избледени, граорести очи и ми вели:



                                Вие, можеби не се сеќавате на тие денови?



                                Чудно е тоа што боли…



                                Ех, моj приjателе, си се вратил на корените - ДОМА,каj спомените што наjмногу болат. Значи; потомците почнаа да се враќаат ДОМА.



                                Костурчани се луѓе со затворено срце, опседнати со себе и своето семеjство, скептични кон светлата иднина и оттаму имуни на грозоморните изненадувања. Воjните од 1940 - 1949 година: Втората светска воjна и Граѓанската воjна не не заобиколиjа, туку не распарчиjа. Сега не веруваме во “големите вистини” ниту во “големите луѓе”. Повеќе, никоj никому не би требало да му jа продава тезата за “братство и единство”, туку за почитување на разликите. Додека сме живи ние напатените, нема Грците да ги сметаме за “браќа”.



                                Да, нашиот роден град Костур е град коj остави многу човечки судбинини отворени. И пак замолча.



                                Тоj полека jа подигна главата, како што тоа го прават луѓето кога ќе почувствуваат дека некоj ги следи, погледа наокулу и во мене. Му возвратив полека на погледот и си реков во себе: “О, Исусе, какво понижување!”



                                Ми го кажа она што наjмалку не очекував да го чуjам. Во грлото нешто го стегна, па едваj изусти.



                                Jаска се викам Крсто Крапов. Бев наjмладиот комитски воjвода. Татко ми Доне Крапов е закопан во братоjадската гробница, а по лошата вест, на маjка ми Вана Крапова ѝ се распарчи срцето. Ниту знам каде е ниту, коj jа закопа. Сега, за тоа време никоj ништо не кажува.



                                Ние Македонците во тие години - од кога доjде Гркот, не мислевме на проблемите што ни се чинеа далечни, сега сме полни со грижи кога не jавнаа маките нанесени од прогоните, ги чувствуваме многу болно и станаа с по нерешливи.



                                Но, сега по малку ми треперат рацете додека мислам на сето тоа. Да, jас од Краповото семе, а името Крапов, прадедо ми Григор, бил рибар и фаќал големи крапови, костурски прочуени риби. Така го завикале уште Турците и многу го почитувале…



                                Сега живем сам. Наполно сам. Останав без род, а тоа е наjнечовечка казна… Никогаш никому не му зборувам. Не примам ништо. Не давам ништо. Живеам, но не сакам да си го намнисувам минатото.



                                Ги рашири дланките и прстите. Почна да си ги истегнуваше образите, истуркуваjќи ги борите од челото, ги затегнуваше очните капаците од избледените очи, а jас чувствував наплив на емоции: возбудува, восхитува за ради тоа, што се сретнав токму со таков човек, коj ќе ми го раскаже минатото без неметливост, сосема искрено!



                                И ден - денес не можам да си простан, зошто го прашав:



                                - Дали некогаш си се обидел да се самоубиеш за време на суровите преживувања на островот?



                                Ми одговори восторжено, со некаков воjнички став:



                                Не! Никогаш! Љубовта за мене ми остана како бескраен сон, недоглед од многу сложени виножитни бои. Таа ми припаѓаше само мене, а ние на своjот народ, на овоj костурски род…



                                Како занесен, почнав да ги толкувам неговите зборови. Се вратив во реалноста. Тоj замолча. Го чекаше моjот одговор. Се почувствува разочаран. Жал ми е… Ова е веќе премногу што го чув. И му реков: “Минатото не зближи!”.Тоj го постави показалецот на слепоочницата и ми рече:



                                Костур наш, како да бил даруван од бога - да биде светилка на комитскиот пат… Тоj духовен извор и виор, исконски и библиски опстоjувал, се ѕидал и градел од нашите предци, а сега е туѓ, им го утуѓиме…



                                И ден-денес ме jади jанџа, како и зошто дозволивме да ни го организираат братоjадството!?



                                Тугинците ни ги организираа духовите на поделбата и не поделиjа на компромисни (Еласити, Комунисти) и безкомпромисни Македонци (сите родољбци-чеда на Илинденските комити).



                                Страшно бевме заљубени во робството… И, сега, таквите навраќања, ми го згрутчуваа умот…



                                Костур и Костурските села личеа на една опожарена шума, каде македонските Еласити, Комунисти бегале од огнот бараjќи спас во армиjата на Тито, додека комитите го бранеа Костур и Костурските села. Македонските Еласити и комунисти, сепак и понатаму глумеа интернационалисти, често ги напаѓаа комитите паради националисти и им ги опожарува нимните к’шти.



                                А тоа ме потсетува на приказната: “Кога од големиот пожар бегале големите и силни ѕверки, само малото колибри, со малку водичка во клунчето летало токму кон шумата. На опомените на попаметните” дека е лудост тоа што го прави, дека обидот е залуден и невозможен, птичката одговорила дека го прави токму тоа што е реално - ни помалку ни повеќе, туку токму она што треба, сака и може да го стори за да jа запре несреќата што се прави над Кoстурчани. А тоа го правеа и Комитите и останаа сами да го бранат Костур. Да, токму така и со нашите Македонци - Еласити и Комунисти, но има и такви кои не сакат да си признаат дека со напуштање на родното место не се брани татковина.



                                По нивното напуштање, остануваат многу отворени прашања за македонската историjа!? Тоа беше време, како што велеше дедо ми, кога: “На мудриот повеќе му користат неприjателите отколку на лудиот приjателите.”



                                Го гледам како се згрчува и од внатре го jаде некаква jанѕа, а каj мене роj од прашања:



                                Зошто мислиме дека порано луѓето биле посреќни, а животот по едноставен, зошто постоjано правиме реминисценции за добрите ввремиња? Зошто со тага ги разгледуваме старите фотографии и ги слушаме со восхит подвизите на нашите предци. Дали сакаме да промениме нешто од нашето минато!?



                                Значи, тоа беше време кое: животот на Македонците, посебно на костурчани им беше исполнет со гнев и со неизвесност. Кога се вратив во Костур- дома во овоа свето место, наjдов еден изурнат живот, а оставив убава жена и дете кои ги носев длабоко закопани во моето срце, како наjголемо богатсто.



                                Дедо ми велеше: “Не разделиjа и не поделиjа и ете денес, од секого ќе слушнеш глупави мисли и разни Богохулења, но мудриот костурчанец треба да ги премолчува и да си го чува огништето, а во него ќе има вечна топлина…”



                                Му велам: - Ти си искрен човек…



                                Тоj, нестрпливо ми вели:



                                “Jас сум Комита и jа кажувам вистината, ако навистина бев дволичен, мислиш дека ќе го носев баш ова лице?”



                                Ние Костурчаните, го изгубивме Костур за не цели десет години од 1940 до 1949 година, затоа што не постапивме мудро и одговорно, токму во тие судбоносни години се поделивме на Комити и Еласити и станавме луѓе без мерка спрема самите себеси; плашливи, предизвикувачи на неред, делувавме сурово, а требаше одамна, еднаш за секогаш, да се отргневме од нашето поданство и од тугинците да ни го наметнуваат своjот начин на стратегиjа и визиjа како безалтернативен избор… Тугинците, не процениjа дека им ги прифаќаме лагите, дека сме милосливи спрема нив, а тие с повеќе со таквите лаги, н хранеа и не силее во нашето братоjадство… Тие jа сакаа Македониjа без Македонците. Така веле андартите кога доjдоа 1903 година.





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