Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The official opening of the school was left for Monday. Lazo had insisted.

“People, this is not usual work. A school is opening here, do you understand? Don’t you remember when a school opened in Kostur? An inspector had to be there. One time even a district chief attended a school opening… Opening a school is a big deal, people... We need someone to say a word or two. That’s how it’s done... The national anthem also needs to be sung… Do you understand?” said Lazo and looked around. Kuze in the meantime covered his mouth with his hand to hide the fact that he was laughing but he could do nothing about his shoulders shaking. People noticed that.

“Lazo, hey Lazo?” a voice was heard calling. It was old man Mitre. “What are you talking about Lazo? Are you thinking normally or not? What national anthem are we going to sing? The Greek national anthem?! Why do you think our children have gone to the mountains… answer my question? So that you can sing the Greek national anthem… like Kuze?” old man Mitre yelled.

“Mitre, Mitre, why are you yelling at me? There are others here, why don’t you ask them if they want to sing or not? That’s the way it is… if you don’t want to sing then don’t sing! Nobody is forcing you to sing!” replied Lazo.

“I for one say we should not be singing the Greek national anthem…” insisted Mitre.

“And what?” yelled Lazo, “I suppose you want us to sing some freedom fighting song from your days, eh?”

“And why not?” replied Mitre. “Is that a shameful thing to do? If you don’t like it then don’t sing… But let the people sing from the heart and not by coercion. Enough! We will sing like we did in the old days... And there is nothing better from the old days than an Ilinden song, Okay? said Mitre with a shaky voice and then yelled out: “What, people, have you forgotten how to sing the Ilinden sings?”

“Yes we can sing…” interjected Kuze, “but how do we know that we won’t be beaten and thrown in prison for the kind of song we sing? Think about it, people?”

“Yes it’s true… and it’s not…” replied Mitre and hit the ground with his cane. “We can also be beaten and sent to jail for opening a Macedonian school, not a Greek school. Think about that Kuze,” concluded Mitre as he turned to the teacher and asked: “Is it like that or not teacher?”

“Don’t bring the teacher into this!” retorted Lazo, “His task is to teach…”

“To teach and to sing with the children… to teach the children to sing…” insisted Mitre.

Kiro, who until now was among a circle of people, stepped out of the circle and, having looked at every person around him and having carefully weighed every word he was about to say, said: “People, as you know, I have no children of my own to send to school. But I do have nieces and nephews and I look forward to them learning our letters and our words. It is true what Lazo said that a school for us is a big deal. But he was mistaken when he said that only in earlier times important people came… that’s the way it was then… but why can’t important people come now?”

“Kiro, Kiro…” said Kuze and laughed out loud. “I suppose you want a bishop from Kostur to come here?”

“No, I don’t want a Bishop from Kostur to come here,” replied Kiro and continued, “Lazo came to my house yesterday and said: ‘Kiro, important people from up high are coming here tomorrow and it is important that you provide accommodations for them.’ ‘Okay,’ I said and asked him: “what are they coming here for?’ Now I will ask Lazo himself to tell you what he said to me. Tell them Lazo.”

“They are coming here to open the school. To make speeches...” replied Lazo.

“Well,” Kiro yelled, “they will make speeches… it is not like we don’t have anyone to say a of couple words? Okay, let it be that way... In other words, important people will come the same way important people came in the past. We don’t need a bishop Kuze, we have our own priest Vasil who will be there... Vasil will bless the school... Right people?”

Lazo and Kuze looked at each other and then looked around. Mitre lifted his hand and yelled out: “That’s right! The priest Vasil will consecrate the school!”

“No!” said Lazo, “It’s not like that at all. Let the priest Vasil look after the church and the teacher will look after the school. It is better that way! Am I right or not, people?”

“It’s good and it’s not good!” interjected Kiro. “Let us not argue and waste too much time on this because this thing can quickly get out of hand. When the leadership people from high above come we will let them decide how they want to open the school. They will give speeches… right Lazo? They are coming here to speak to us about the school, right?” concluded Kiro.

Unfortunately this was not the end of the discussion. People went on talking until it was dark when they finally dispersed and went home. Nothing was finalized, not even what was to be sung at the opening of the school. Mitre came home very upset because Lazo, in front of everyone, had said to him to forget that he had once been a freedom fighter, fighting under the leadership of Vangel Chakalarov and Mitre Vlao and that those times had now long passed…

“That idiot Lazo is going to tell me that those times have passed?” Mitre angrily protested to Mitrevitsa. “Those days are gone? Lazo is not only a fool, he is also blind. That idiot! Those times have passed? Like hell they have passed! Who have they passed for? That man is also deaf! I swear to you he is deaf… Has he not heard? Our boys are singing Macedonian songs even in battle! Our people are singing Macedonian songs in battle, in battle I tell you…”

After he calmed down a bit Mitrevitsa asked him: “Mitre should I set the table?”

“Get out of my sight with your table!” Mitre yelled at her as if she was at fault for the pain and frustration he was feeling because of Lazo’s hurtful and damning comments.

Mitrevitsa sat in the corner by the fireplace, took her knitting and began to knit as if nothing had been said. Mitre smoked his pipe, emptied the ashes, filled the tobacco pipe with a second helping, lit it and then quietly said: “What about dinner? Are we going to eat?”

“Let us eat then…” said Mitrevitsa and scurried to set the table. She then placed a bowl full of bean soup in front of Mitre. Mitre hungrily grabbed the spoon and shoved a spoon full of beans into his mouth. He then opened his eyes widely, spit the beans into the fire and yelled: “How many time have I told you that I don’t like my soup hot! And what do you do? You shove it in front of my face straight from the fire! This is not soup… this is fire!”

Mitrevitsa, ignoring Mitre’s complaint, cut a large piece of bread, handed it to him and said: “Mitre, soup is eaten hot, not cold. What kind of food would it be if it was not hot?”

Mitre took the bread, broke it into small chunks, added it to his bean soup and hastily spooned it into his mouth. He then got up and said: “I am going to Kiro’s. Don’t wait for me. Go to bed.”

The light was still on in the room on the south side of Kiro’s house.

“Kiro must have guests…” Mitre murmured quietly to himself. Then, after standing below the low fence in front of Kiro’s house for several moments, he decided to leave and pay a visit to Giorgi’s house. On his way, banging the bottom of his cane against the cobblestone pavement, he mumbled: “That lowlife… that bastard… that sold soul… he is reducing me to nothing? I was right to have told Chakalarov to get rid of all those lowlifes… And those leaders,” Mitre raised his voice, “were wrong for starting a rebellion when the people were not yet ready to fight… And they said they were? They were ready for what? To make a mess of things… eh? They allowed the supremacists to take control, to start the rebellion early and kill us all... And where were our leaders then? Why did they not break

the heads of those bastards, eh? Where were they? And now we have these idiots, the likes of Lazo and Kuze, who have pushed our people into a new mess… Let’s see how far they will take us... One good thing about them is that they want to open Macedonian schools... this might open the eyes of our children… Unfortunately there is no hope of opening the eyes of the likes of Kuze and Lazo. Lazo is useless at doing anything. He doesn’t know right from wrong. He can’t help himself let alone help our people in dire times like this. And now he is boasting to me about his great Party and the great work it does…”

Still muttering, Mitre arrived at Giorgi’s front gate and knocked on the thick wooden door with his cane and yelled: “Giorgi… Giorgi… are you home?”

“Of course we are at home… where the devil do you think we would be at this ungodly hour of the night?” he heard a female voice say. It was Giorgevitsa. She pulled the lever, opened the door and with a surprised look on her face asked: “Is that you Mitre?”

“It is me… Is Giorgi home?” he asked.

“Come in! Come in! Yes, he is home!” replied Giorgevitsa.

“Are you alone?” inquired Mitre.

“We are alone. Why do you ask?” asked Giorgevitsa.

“Well, you never know. I passed by Kiro’s place and the light was on… It appears he has guests so I decided to come and visit Giorgi… I am asking to be sure you don’t have any guests…” replied Mitre.

“Well Mitre, you should know that Kiro always has guests… but this time it must be those from high up. Giorgi said that they are important people... they came here for tomorrow... why did they come today and not tomorrow, I don’t know?” added Giorgevitsa.

By now Giorgi had arrived at the front gate and escorted Mitre inside. “It’s nice to see you again Mitre,” Giorgi said, shook Mitre’s hand continued, “what do I hear? You had a fight with Lazo?”

“Had a fight with Lazo? Why? Who the hell is Lazo for me to be having a fight with him? Not only is he an idiot, he is also deaf and blind, that’s who Lazo is. A fool! He has no brains… Not to say that he thinks he knows everything… and sees everything…” replied Mitre.

“Giorgevitsa, please bring some pumpkin sweets and something to drink here,” asked Giorgi.

“Please, have some, Mitre,” offered Giorgevitsa.

“Thank you, Giorgevitsa,” replied Mitre and slowly ate the sweet. He then licked his lips and said: “It was delicious Giorgevitsa…but my lips are slightly burned. I burned them with Mitrevitsa’s bean soup. That woman… She took the soup out of the fire and handed it to me… And, I, without blowing on it, slurped it into my mouth and burned my lips. Look…” Giorgevtsa looked but all she could see was a row of healthy white teeth.

“Dear Mitre, you will live… You are so lucky to have such healthy teeth,” replied Giorgevitsa.

“To this day I have not had a single toothache... It’s in my genes… what can I say?” laughed Mitre. “But let me ask you Giorgi... do you still have that old book?”

“What book?” asked Giorgi.

“The one your grandfather took from the church and hid. Do you remember? The one with Macedonian letters...” replied Mitre.

Giorgi raised his eyebrows and said: “Why?”

“I figured that while the Greek justice system and police are away, I would come here, get the book and have a little chat with the teacher… you understand?” replied Mitre.

“The book is hidden in the Sveti Vrach church, tomorrow or the day after I will go and get it. Okay?” asked Giorgi.

“And where in the church is the book hidden, Giorgi?” asked Mitre.

“Why? Are you thinking of going to get it right now?” inquired Giorgi.

“May God protect and defend us all! You think I would go without you?” replied Mitre.

“You Mitre?” said Giorgevitsa. “When you get something into your head, you are prepared to go to hell and get it. I know you very well…”

“You are making a big deal of it…” replied Mitre.

Giorgi looked Mitre in the eyes and asked: “Why are you so interested in that book?”

“Well, how do I say this? I am feeling something here!” Mitre pointed at his chest and then continued: “Right here… and then I keep asking myself; will the teacher teach the children using the Macedonian alphabet or… You say you have the book hidden in the Sveti Drach church? Well, okay then. I never thought of digging there. I hope the mice have not eaten it? What do you think, Giorgi?”

“I have it secured in a metal box, Mitre, don’t worry,” replied Giorgi.

“That’s great!” said Mitre and then stood up. “I would like to go home now. And you… don’t forget to come and get me. I want to go with you to get the book… Should we give it to Pop Vasil? What do you say? He can read it…” concluded Mitre.

And while Mitre was returning home Kuze was cutting his son’s hair and saying: “Listen to me well Nikolche my son and remember tomorrow morning when you arrive at school you will say ‘good

morning’ to the teacher (in Greek). Then when you are leaving you will say ‘goodbye’ (in Greek). When you pass him by you will say ‘Hello Sir’ (in Greek)... When he reads the names in class you will say ‘present’ (in Greek). And make sure I never hear anything bad about you. I don’t want people to say: ‘Look at Kuze’s son and what kind of a bad boy he is…’ Also, you must be first in everything… Nikolche my son…” Kuze then turned to his little daughter and said: “You Tsotsa, you need to grow up, and when you grow up daddy is going to send you to Istanbul…”