WELCOME TO THE KOLHOZ NEW LIFE - Part 03

Mara wasn’t happy and said: “I will say it again, I will not host anyone the likes of them in this house. I have done enough already! I explained to you what I did for them in the past three or four years and what it got me. No more! And you have the nerve to talk about my honour?”

Pavle turned to Mitre and said: “And you, Mitre, what do you say? Will you take two?”

“Well, Pavle, you’ve already been told. We aren’t taking anyone,” replied Mitre.

“Be careful not to make a mistake. The party knows what to do with...” said Pavle but was interrupted by Mitre who said:

“With people like us, right? The party will declare us enemies of the people and send us somewhere, right?” Mitre then opened the door wide and said: “Pavle you will do well if you go now... there’s the door...”

At the exit, Pavle turned around and said threateningly:

“The situation hasn’t changed that much Mitre, even though we’re far away from home. Things are the same here as they were back home... Most honestly, Mitre, for your own good, I hope you won’t

disappoint us. You have always supported the struggle... You understand me, right?”

“It would be better if he didn’t understand you...” interrupted Mara.

Standing outside the door Pavle turned to Mara and said:

“Mara, Mara, you are the best hostess of them all. Think about this and talk some sense into your husband. I’ll forget about your insolence… I’ll take it as a joke. Prepare to accept two guests and come down to Kroshchenko tomorrow. Comrade Zahariadis will be giving a speech. He’ll tell us his ideas about the new revolution...”

Mitre accompanied Pavle to the corner of the road and, before turning back, without a handshake quietly said:

“Think about this very carefully, Pavle, and don’t get caught up in a new set of lies. There will be no revolution... Mara explained it to you very well. We will be deceived again...”

Mara and Mitre didn’t open their house to the two congress delegates and didn’t attend the rally to hear Zahariadis’s speech. They also turned off the talking box right after they heard the first exclamations, slogans and applause... They didn’t hear what the leader said and promised the people at the large gathering in front of the church, over which they had forgotten to remove the Orthodox cross which had tilted sideways and looked wrong…

Two days after the rally took place Mitre’s neighbours got together during the evening. Those who hadn’t listened to the talking box were eager to find out from their neighbours, those who had listened to the talking boxes, what had happened at the rally. They wanted to know what had been said and decided.

Kiro started the conversation. He said: “Look, they held a congress for us. I was at their congress. I sat a little to the side and watched and listened. Our dear, dear, wise leader spoke for a long time about the struggle so far and about a future struggle that awaits us but never mentioned a people. Not only him but also those who endorsed him, who praised him. Nobody. No one mentioned a

nation, not at the beginning, in the middle or at the end of their long speeches. And we were a nation, right? We were a people who during the war gave him, and all those around him, everything we had even the bread from our mouths... I shouldn’t have to remind you of the things they said to us in the past, the promises they made to us and wrote down in their notebooks with their pencils but then quickly erased them. When they needed us the most, they unanimously accepted, wrote down and proclaimed that ‘In Northern Greece the Macedonian (Slavo-Macedonian, Zahariadis never called the Macedonian people Macedonians in public) people gave their all for the struggle and fought with universal heroism and self-sacrifice, which is cause for admiration. There should be no doubt that, by sacrificing their blood today, as a result of the victory achieved by the Democratic Army of Greece and the People’s Revolution, the Macedonian people will completely gain their national renewal in the way that they want to gain it…’ (Part of the resolution adopted in January 1949 in the village Nivitsi, Prespa Region.) Yes, then we were a people because we gave our all for the struggle and to be a people we had to continue to exist, sacrificing our blood. But, Zahariadis’s great lie didn’t work out well for him. His own people, those with whom he shared the big cave in Prespa, those from Belgrade and Skopje and especially those in Athens, who held many Greek communists in their prisons and concentration camps, asked those Greek prisoners if they agreed with Zahariadis’s resolution. Those who said they did were proclaimed traitors and, without trial, got a bullet in the head. Then his closest friends turned their backs on him and that is why, only a few months later, he changed the resolution to something else and ended up lying to us... Unfortunately the people who he involved in the war as a result of his lie still admired him, but a few months later he began to slander them too. Even though they were obedient to him, he sowed hatred and malice among them... And I will say again - no one in the congress mentioned people, only comrades in Greek. Zahariadis said everything he wanted to say in the way he wanted to say it, emphasizing that he and a few others around him truly care for us Slavo-Macedonians, who live in the peoples’ republics happy and without a care. He also emphasized that we should never think that we have been abandoned or forgotten. He said he would create an organization for us, a glorious Macedonian revolutionary organization... And this is how our most beloved and wisest son

Zahariadis will again take what remains of us under his wing and together we will create a revolutionary organization in this wasteland. It will be a new revolutionary organization for the Slavo-Macedonians who hate Tito and, together with him, we will hate everyone who doesn’t hate Tito and so we will divide ourselves, slander ourselves and hate ourselves. So, my dear people, right now there are no Macedonian people, there is no Macedonian nation, there are only comrades, and tomorrow some fool will call them all citizens, meaning a nameless group of people...And so they will keep dancing with the devil and propagating the evil they started a long time ago. They will continue to claim that our nation, our language, our alphabet and our ‘sinister’ name were created for us by somebody else, and that is why a new language had to be created by party directive, and now, with this congress, they want to create new Slavo-Macedonians from those who were maimed by the war but are still alive. We are everywhere, scattered around towns, in barracks, in villages… Some have even taken permanent residence underground in foreign cemeteries. Every passing day more and more of our loved ones find their way to graves in Poland, Hungary, Romania, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia and beyond the great deserts, in distant Tashkent, taking with them their great hope of returning home... So, I ask you, who is a bigger criminal, Zahariadis or those who follow and worship him? And for me it wouldn’t be strange if some fool tomorrow says, hey you there, wherever you are, we will give you a language, a name, a nation and a state if you agree to not be who you are… To not be who you want to be… but to be who we want you to be... In the past they defined us by agreements and they will continue to define us by agreements but not of who we are but of what they want us to be. They will say you are so and so, do you understand, and when we shake our heads saying no, they will say read the agreement which your people signed in the spirit of cooperation and friendly relations with your neighbours and the world. The same kind of hated agreement concluded against the wishes of the people, the same kind of agreement that created division, malice, hatred, slander, bribery and treachery. Those who care about nothing but their own interests will say this is how it is… This is how it always was... People... People bled and people died until that disgraceful defeat, but to justify that shameful defeat Zahariadis and his bunch are blaming us the people who, through our sacrifices, somehow became guilty... Then, on top of that, they

say that we aren’t a people but something invented by somebody else... and on top of all that, they found serfs among us who were willing to launder their filth. They brought serfs, similar to those of Ottoman times, like the Fanariot priests and teachers, on whose trust we placed our fate and in return they brought us nothing but treachery and bloodshed. Now we are placing our trust in a new set of hands called the Communist Party of Greece. They boast that they are unbeatable and strong and that we are weak and crushed like a broken good for nothing earthen pot. Now they’re trying to glue back that broken pot with a new organization called Ilinden with capital letters; a revolutionary organization for the Slavo-Macedonians. In great capital letters because the game they are playing, it seems, is a great game. And that game is called the great divide. Our division. A Macedonian division to eradicate our name. If you have no name, you don’t exist... our name is the target. What exists without a name? What is celebrated without a name? What is planted without a name? What crosses into immortality and is immortalized without a name? The Polish people who are responsible for the Macedonian and Greek children were also at the congress. When the speakers spoke about them and about their country they always use the names Poles and Poland... I wrote down his name and parts of his speech. Ah, here it is. His name is Kopciński... no, that’s not it. Here it is, I found it. Kopciński, they said was next to speak, and tall and bald as he was, he stood up behind the podium and spoke in Polish like this, I wrote what he said in my notebook from what a young man translated for me. I won’t read everything for you, only what’s most important, in my opinion. This is what Kopciński said:

‘I will take this opportunity, my friends, to share with you our experiences regarding the rearing of the Macedonian children and other young people in the people’s Poland. The Macedonian young people, together with the Greek and Polish youth, are learning and are educated as conscious fighters for peace and socialism. The young people are having thoughts about liberating Macedonia...’

Did you hear what I said? Let me repeat it ‘the Macedonian youth is thinking about the liberation of Macedonia...’ That’s what the Pole said loudly and we all heard it. There was dead silence in the hall, and then there was a rustling sound and coughing. A man sitting

next to me whispered: ‘The bald man overstepped his bounds; tomorrow someone will pull his ears.’ I didn’t get to write what he said next. I listened and listened but forgot to write. The Pole stopped talking and looked around the hall. People in the audience were whispering. When the whispering stopped he continued:

‘The Macedonian teacher, like the Greek and Polish teacher, instilled in the youth love for their homeland and for their national culture. However, so far we don’t have a sufficient number of appropriate textbooks, reading books and scientific aids. Our desire, aspiration and goal, comrades, is to educate Macedonian children in the spirit of Macedonian patriotism. The youth want to know the history of Macedonia. Macedonia in its past has wonderful pages of liberation and revolutionary struggles. It would be good for the young Macedonians to read Macedonian history.’

The Polish man stopped talking again because there was noise in the hall, someone was coughing loudly. Here is what else I still wrote in my notebook about what the Polish man said.

‘It isn’t possible to love one’s homeland if one doesn’t know its history and geography... In our school work we lack grammar, spelling and proofreading in the Macedonian language. Without these aids, you can’t learn your mother tongue. Learning the Macedonian language without these textbooks is a waste of time for the students and the teachers...’ This is what the Polish speaker said. I listened to him with my mouth wide open. I was unable to write everything down but I didn’t miss this, Kopciński said:

‘We need 10 Macedonian kindergarten teachers and 15 Macedonian teachers for the boarding houses. The situation with Macedonian teachers is very bad. We’ll need at least 2 more qualified teachers. We have no teachers to teach Macedonian in the higher grades and no one to teach the unqualified teachers we already have. Comrades, we need you to find these teachers for us. Look at your staff, comrades, you may be able to find qualified teachers among them’…” said Kiro and was interrupted by someone who asked:

“What are unqualified teachers?”

“Those who are uneducated...” replied Kiro and continued:

When I heard the Polish man say out loud that at least two qualified teachers were needed, I felt like shouting sarcastically: ‘The party will find them among its cadres... The party knows what kinds of people are needed. It will find them like it found those with whom it’s now making a revolutionary organization and shamefully calling it Ilinden. Ilinden, which belongs to the Macedonians, will be divided among the Macedonians and the Slavo-Macedonians... The first invented by Tito and the second by Zahariadis and the CPG. There’s nothing new to see here, they’re dancing the same old dance and singing the same old song. Comrades today and maybe just citizens tomorrow, nameless citizens...’ So, my dear deceived people, the congress ended with an already decided resolution which was forged out of our hands and brought here from Bucharest. It was written in Greek and translated into Slavo-Macedonian by our amiable and beloved leader... There was plenty of applause, slogans shouted, joy and great new promises... To tell you the truth, I tried to tell the Polish man that I was touched by his speech but the security services stopped me...”

After the congress ended, Polish congressional representative Lukashevich from the Central Committee of the United Polish Workers Party and Kopciński from the Ministry of Education went to the railway station and got on a cold railway car, a remnant from the Austro-Hungarian Empire and sat in a narrow wooden compartment waiting for the train to leave for Warsaw.

Their trip was very slow during the first dozen or so kilometres. The old steam locomotive struggled to gain speed as it frequently blew its whistle. Its passengers sat in the cold in silence. Like the two sleepless nights which left a mark on the faces of the two men, so did the impressions which they’d picked up at the congress in Krushchenko.

Lukashevich broke the silence and said:

“Do you think that our participation in the congress was a good idea and do you think that the comments you made were well-received, Pan Kopciński? When you spoke about raising the Macedonian children in the spirit of Macedonian patriotism and the rich history of Macedonia, the faces of those sitting in the front row, I noticed, were bitter and discontent. I’m sure they didn’t approve of your speech. You, Pan Kopciński, spoke about Macedonians and all the others who spoke said Slavo-Macedonians. What’s the difference? And what was the purpose of the congress? Here with me, Pan Kopchinhski, I have a copy of the telegram sent to the Central Committee of our party by Zahariadis, their party leader. I will read you what it said:

‘Dear Comrades, on March 5, 1952, the Slavo-Macedonians who are in the various People’s Republics will be holding a congress to decide NOF’s dissolution, an organization formed under the proposal of Tito’s agents, and the formation of “ILINDEN”, a new

national liberation organization for the Slavo-Macedonians. Please give us approval to hold the congress in your country, in the new kolhoz where most Slavo-Macedonians are located. If you agree to have the congress in your country we will send 80-100 delegates from other countries for a stay of 10 days. In addition 80 more delegates from your country will attend. Please give us your answer by January 2, 1952. On behalf of the CPG Central Committee, regards, N. Zahariadis, s.r.’

“The purpose of the congress is clearly written in the telegram. To tell you the truth, Pan Kopciński, to me it looks like some kind of dirty work is done here and I wonder why we’re getting involved in it? I told my Central Committee comrades that if we allowed this congress to take place here with these objectives in mind, then Greece and Yugoslavia will accuse us of allowing the establishment of organizations that could act against them on our territory. And then we’ll be getting protest letters, diplomatic postures and maybe a debate in the United Nations. That’s all the West needs... And you know what something inside my head was telling me? You, comrade Lukeshevich, made a mistake. First, you knew that Comrade Zahariadis was close to Comrade Stalin, and most of all closer to Comrade Beria... And you knew that Beria was in the same company of comrades as our own Beirut. Keep that in mind, Comrade Lukashevich. Of course I didn’t pay attention to it and said nothing to anyone. I kept my mouth shut. I told myself maybe at the moment silence was my best friend. And you, Pan Kopciński, I’m sure members of our central committee will charge you with irresponsibility and political immaturity for the demands you put forward regarding the Macedonian language, history, tradition and some other things... I know you’re justified in raising the children in the spirit of patriotism, using the best pedagogical methods and that, as a very experienced pedagogue, you educate children according to their traditions and values... In this case you educate them to be Macedonian patriots and to love Macedonia... I, Pan Kopciński, understand what’s going on with those refugees a little differently. We Poles understand refugees because in the past we were refugees and that’s why we are like that now. Instead of giving them opportunities to organize themselves in some revolutionary and liberation organizations, I advocated for organizing them in organizations that nurtured their folk and national traditions, their

folk songs, dances and faith, just like we Poles did during the times when we were torn apart as a state for over a hundred years, but we managed not only to preserve but also strengthened ‘nasza polska narodowa tożsamość...’ (Our Polish national identity…) and we did that with the help of our folk traditions, national customs, education, culture and religion. Therefore we owe it to the refugees to connect them with their own traditions and national consciousness... I wasn’t impressed by the empty speeches and slogans delivered by that group of ‘półgłówki’ (fools) brought here from the so-called countries of popular democracy, which strongly interfere with American imperialism and most notably with Tito. And instead of striving to take advantage of all the opportunities available to them to learn, master knowledge, professions, as they would otherwise melt into the mass of a more educated and cultured environment, they persistently trampled on their tragic past imposed by others. You know, Pan Kopciński, I just pity them... They gathered those poor people in that wasteland to make a revolutionary and liberation organization, only because that’s what he (Zahariadis) wished to do, and that is the truth. What they need most though, a thought that constantly circles in my head, is an organization that will nurture their traditions, customs, songs, dances and faith so that they will remain who they are with their own name...” concluded Lukashevich.

“You’re right, Pan Lukashevich. All that is being done now is just a bad and blurry storm. I’m sure it will all blow away and we, the Polish pedagogues, will continue with our work. I’m in the right, Pan Lukashevich, and I’m ready to face the consequences...” replied Kopciński.

“I hope to God you are right, but there, high up in Warsaw, surely someone will say: ‘Comrade, Kopciński, keep educating but don’t forget the politics...’ That’s that, Pan Kopciński, politics. Politics was the game played out in front of those present at the congress. No one applauded you when you spoke about the problems of educating the children in the spirit of Macedonian patriotism. They were all silent. In some I noticed surprise. Others were looking up at the ceiling hoping that it would thunder and silence your blasphemous demands made on them. But when you finally shouted a few slogans about their leader and their party, they all jumped to

their feet... Right? The hall thundered and it seemed to me that the thunder melted away your hopes...” said Lukashevich.

“Exactly. And then and even now I feel uncomfortable,” replied Kopciński.

“Yes. It became obvious what the aim was here when you praised their leader and by the slogans shouted out. But will the passing of time correct this?” asked Lukashevich.

The train was slowly moving in the dark. Pan Kopciński and Comrade Lukashevich didn’t sleep that night. They spent the entire night discussing the congress and reflected on it. They were greeted by dawn in Krakow. Comrade Lukashevich took another train, a fast train, and arrived in Warsaw at noon. He then went straight to the central committee headquarters. He went into one of the offices and by the evening had compiled his report on the congress in Krushchenko.

Kopchinhski traveled through Vrotslav and arrived at the train station in Zgozhelets the next morning. He didn’t go to breakfast, but went straight to his office where, after he drank two cups of strong coffee, he continued to write his unfinished report on conditions at the State Educational Centre.

“Mihail, go to Ristovich’s house and ask what’s all the noise about going home? I understood that this Popodas or Popos...” said Mihail’s mother when Mihail interrupted her and said:

“Papagos, mother, Papagos...”

“Okay let it be Papagos... Well, they’re saying that this Papagos gave us the right to go back home... Go and ask. It’s time we go back home... It’s time to go... Some people are saying that lists are being made of those who want to go... Go, ask... Krsto was here and said that many of the prisoners had been released from the Greek prisons and the Greek island concentration camps and they were allowed to go home. Krsto said he found this out from his brother in Canada. He received a letter saying that many have been released and they have returned home. It looks like they were pardoned... maybe there will be something similar for us? Go ask. We have been here too long; it’s time to go home... I have heard that some people are already packing their things...” said Mihail’s mother.

Mihail didn’t believe something like this was possible. He hesitated, but when he ran into his grandmother Baba Stoina, she insisted that it was possible. Baba Stoina kept spreading the news among more and more people.

Everyone wanted to know what was happening… people inquired, some were even packing their things, getting ready to go...

On the way to the office, Mihail met Lazo and asked him if he had heard if Papagos had granted amnesty.

“That’s what people are saying, Mihail. Papagos granted partial amnesty. People are signing up, taking their savings out of the banks and shopping for clothes, blankets, pillows and various other

household items that they may need... And you, where are you going?” asked Lazo.

“I’m going to the office. They’ll know more, won’t they?” replied Mihail.

The Kolhoz administration office was packed with people curious to know what was happening. Mihail made his way to Karanikas’s door and when he extended his hand to open it he heard people arguing.

“What have you done, Karanikas, Tito’s agents this and Tito’s agents that, and you don’t know how to stop. Did you know that I spent two whole years in the Kostur and Prespa villages? Did you know whose bread I ate? On whose bed I slept. And did you know that the woman you just slandered was carrying me on her shoulders when I was wounded? She was feeding me, looking after me, comforting me and begging me to hold on and not die? Who do you think you are you useless roufianos (creep, villain), what have you done to earn the right to slander these people?” Mihail heard old partisan Sotirakis yelling at Karanikas. Sotirakis continued: “Are we blaming the honest and devoted villagers for the mistakes made by the fools who led us?” Sotirakis said, angrily spat and continued: “Here we work with them, we share our labour, our sweat, we rejoice and grieve together, we visit, we socialize… Shame on you! Does being together bother you? Does it bother you that we want to find peace after everything that has happened to us? We live with them Karanikas, we live together, we share things and all you want to do is make enemies of them... You, who sat in Prespa for a long time, didn’t you hear their voices, did you forget that they fed you, fed all of us, healed us when we were wounded, comforted us when we were in pain and gave us their beds to rest and sleep on? You, Karanikas, you and those around you and those above aren’t only becoming their enemies, you’re becoming our enemies, the enemies of all the honest fighters. I’m leaving. I can no longer tolerate the stench here,” concluded Sotirakis.

Old Sotirakis then left the office and quickly disappeared.

Visibly angry Karanikas crossed the door’s threshold and loudly yelled:

“What are you all doing here? What are you looking for? Why have you gathered here, huh?”

Mihail stepped in front of the crowd and said:

“We heard that Papagos had granted amnesty. Is it true, Comrade Karanikas?”

“It’s true...” replied Karanikas quietly.

“We can all go home now!” cried Mihail loudly.

“No! Not all. A man from the party came here today and said that we could return only after a people’s democracy was established in Greece and the proletariat came to power. Now, people, sit still, do your job here and the top party leadership will decide when we can go back home,” replied Karanikas.

So, what was bright for the people suddenly turned dark...

Mihail went back to the hata and informed those few who were impatiently waiting for him to return. He said:

“I went to the office. There was a crowd of people there. Karanikas came out and announced that the party would decide who will return. He said that there was no democracy in Greece yet, and when democracy comes we will all return in wagons and be greeted with music and flowers. He said that we will all be back en masse and with our heads raised high. The party now will only allow women whose husbands are in Australia, America and Canada to leave and go to their husbands in those countries... So that’s what the party has decided...”

“Does this mean that even those allowed to leave won’t be returning back home to their own places?” someone asked.

“Yes, that’s what it looks like... this is how the game is played... It’s a great game and well thought out, like all the previous games in which they made us play...” said Mihail.

A few days later, Baba Stoina called Mihail over and said:

“Please Mihail, get rid of the talking box from the wall. It just talks, talks and talks. Go to Mitre and Mara’s house and see the nice box they bought. They only listen to what they want to listen to. They can turn a wheel left or right and listen to voices which speak our language and play our songs. Ask them where they bought it and then go buy one for our house, the kind that will sing our songs...”

Mihail, Stoina’s grandson, laughed out loud and said:

“That talking box, Baba, is called a radio.”

Baba Stoina wasn’t happy being made fun of and said: “Mihail, my grandson, don’t make fun of me, listen to me, listen to what I tell you, go to Mitre and Mara’s house and ask. I don’t want to listen to voices I don’t understand. Buy a radio and throw this box in the brook.”

Mihail did go to see Mitre and Mara in the evening. At the end of the visit, he said:

“I came with a plea to tell me where you bought the radio.”

“In the city but you need to order it first,” replied Mitre.

It took twenty days before Mihail could pick up the new radio. He brought it to Baba Stoina and taught her how to operate the wheels. He then removed the box from the wall, took out whatever was inside it and hung the empty box on the old pear tree. The birds slept in it at night and hid in it from the rain during the day.

Baba Stoina, who never let her knitting needles out of her hands, turned the radio on every day and happily listened intently to the familiar beloved songs and to the advice given.

The one who gave me the ring, For him I will pave the way, For him I will pave the way…

The room was filled with the song. Baba Stoina knitted her sock while listening to it. Then a voice came on the radio and loudly asked:

And where were your eyes, you poor dear, that you did not see?

He who gave me the apple May he be green until his death...

Hey, hey mean, hey mean and toxic girl...?

He who gave me the ring Through him the way will pave Through him the way will pave…

What wrong did the boy do to you, you mean girl?

He who made me whole Give him to me mother. Give him to me...

Well, that’s how it was... How else could it have been?

Baba Stoina was happy listening to the same songs she had sung with her friends when she was young back home when they gathered together to knit, weave and remove corn kernels from the cob... Certainly there were also village bachelors. Those were good times...

The songs awakened many memories in Baba Stoina…

A few moments of joy, many moments of sadness...

Five long-term patients from Hospital 250 were housed in a semi-dark room in one of the newly built wooden houses in the village Kroshchenko which they now called NEW LIFE. After they were discharged from the hospital they learned how to operate tractors and were sent to the kolhoz NEW LIFE. All discussions about the war and their experiences took place after work, which ended sometime before the evening. The most talkative was Traiche. Beneath his overgrown hair above his right ear, Traiche had a large scar and in the middle of it was a red spot. The scar was the result of a wound he had received from a mortar shell explosion. The metal piece had been removed in hospital 250 but his scar would remain there for life.

Traiche always talked about the war, sometimes for a long time and then he would go silent, which to others seemed like he had fallen asleep. But he hadn’t. He would then suddenly touch his scar, slowly rub it, tighten his body and say:

“We, yesterday’s warriors - soldiers, accustomed to strict discipline and warfare, now disabled, are sent to the state agricultural holdings not to work but to convince the poor villagers that we haven’t lost the war, but are resting with our rifles at our side. What rifles, huh? Do you know where those rifles are now? In the storehouses of the Albanian army! That’s where they are. They sent us there to lie to our people, look them in the eye and say our rifles are resting by our side... They told us, to go to, what do they call them now, the kolhozes and protect the people from the harsh weather and warm them with our stories of victories, to lift their spirits. The poor people, and more so poor us, instead of telling them fairytales we remind them of the evil we all encountered. We truly break their hearts, minds and souls. On top of that the poor people are being humiliated for no reason, insulted daily and accused of being Tito’s agents. Now at a time when we stopped bleeding we are Tito’s

agents. But when they needed our blood the most, they praised and exalted us. Now that we aren’t needed for the war they need us to justify the evil… to pin it on us even though there wasn’t a single Macedonian leading the war. You know that Zahariadis, his semi-literate gang and his entire politburo were made up of Madzhirs (Madzhir – Muhazdhir - Arabic word - meaning: refugee, immigrant. This is what the Macedonian people called the Turkish Christian settlers and colonists the Greek government deposited in Greek occupied Macedonia after the Greek-Turkish War (1919-1922) under the Treaty of Lausanne (1923) and the exchange of populations between Turkey and Greece. 600,000 of them were deposited in Greek occupied Macedonia, enough to permanently change its ethnic composition. During the time when the so-called White Terror (1945-1946) was at its height, the Madzhiri in Kostur Region participated en masse in looting and terrorizing the Macedonian villagers.) Zahariadis too was a Madzhir. The vast majority of people in the command that led the war were semi-literate Vlachs and Madzhirs. Which of the high commanders wasn’t Vlach or Madzhir? No one! Not a single Macedonian was responsible for what took place during the war. Whatever the Macedonians did was done under orders from the non-Macedonians who were in command. At the same time Zahariadis couldn’t have fought the war without us, the Macedonian boys and girls. Without us he couldn’t have defended a single small hill, let alone keep the whole of Gramos in flames for two months. We fought one partisan against ten Greek government soldiers, and later one against twenty. We were his strength, his front in the struggle and his defense in the back, and not those ναφτεργατες (naftergates - port and ship workers), mighty sons of the poor shipyard and dock workers who Zahariadis said were the most warlike part of the proletariat, and we, not knowing what a proletariat was, believed him. Did we ever ask what that was? No! Never! We just believed every word Zahariadis said to us. He told us they were the real proletariat. He told us that the proletariats were the ones who made revolutions and we the villagers were their reserves. But when the poor ναφτεργατες got here and saw the mountains and forests they showed their true colours; they were grief stricken. On top of that they weren’t good people. The Macedonians found them to be dishonest, gamblers, womanizers, liars, lazy, pushy, few literate but resourceful. Unlike us who fought on the frontlines, they worked in the headquarters and

back offices similar to those from Rumeli and Thessaly. Here in Poland they aren’t in the factories or in the kolhozes. Life for them revolved around the Polish cities, boasting to the Polish people and deceiving them about their rich lives in Greece. Telling them about the party connections they had which they never had, about feeding the pigs oranges, even though their own daily diet consisted mostly of stale bread, onions and olives. They also bad-mouthed our dearest comrade, dearest, wisest, eldest son, dear, meek and now our cure, a balm for our wounds, Zahariadis... They were his closest and most beloved associates, and in fact greatest enemies because they were the first to accuse him of being semi-literate, of not having finished elementary school, etc. Because of his father’s work, a salesman for tobacco companies, Zahariadis spent his childhood and boyhood under the roof of many cities. As a child he also lived in Skopje. It was easy to blame your guilt on someone else. Someone had to be blamed to justify what had happened. The top, responsible for everything that happened, unfortunately in simple people’s minds, was never at fault, even after it sent so-called instructors to lie to the people. They lied to protect the truth. I still can’t understand why they sowed so much hatred in the past and why they’re still doing it today. We have no choice now but to reap the strife and disunity they sowed in us. The party servants in those small party headquarters began to call their former comrades and families Slavo-Macedonians and accuse them of being Tito’s agents. The poor villagers kept quiet and remained patient. No one raised their voice. They firmly hid the anger deep inside them, like an unruly horse is held by its reins. They accused my commander Pando Vaina of leaving Lisets and reserved a chair for his court marshal. I think he did well to leave Lisets. He saved everyone in the eleventh division and its headquarters. Yes, that’s what he did even though his orders were to stay put and fight. The entire division was composed of Macedonian boys and girls. They were young people from Kostur, Lerin and Voden Regions. Flying aircraft were bombing them from above… Cannons and artillery were pounding them from the sides… The bunkers were being blown up and the hills were on fire. Everything was turning to ash. The enemy special forces, who we called lokadzii (Lohi orinon katadromon - mountain warfare detachment), were a step away from the hill. We were being slaughtered in our defensive positions. We were facing the approach of a great force. The enemy infantry looked like a hive of ants

climbing up the hill and attacking in waves. I think Pando didn’t want us all to die. He certainly estimated that we had no way of saving Lisets and so he ordered a retreat, a withdrawal. He preferred to face a court marshal rather than conscientiously cause unnecessary casualties. He didn’t want to be famous. He valued the lives of those boys and girls and wanted them alive. Those who lost the battles fought at Voden, Sobotsko and Lerin were declared deserters. The battle for Vicho lasted only three days. The other two days were used for clean-up operations. It took five days for the government army to pummel everything that the villagers from Kostur and Lerin Regions had taken six months to build at Vicho. But it took a lot of strength to destroy that fortress. The bunkers were turned to ash by new and special bombs brought there by the Americans. All that work done by the villagers, mostly on the backs of Macedonian women, was done for nothing. Our positions were falling one after another. There was no way we could have beaten back that large and well-equipped army. Our comrades from above were later saying that we overestimated the strength of the enemy. They said there weren’t so many planes, not so many cannons, not so many mortars, not so many tanks and not so many enemy soldiers. They said if there was such a large force as we claimed, we couldn’t have withstood it for the length of time we did. Who could withstand such a large force in such a small space? I’m alive today only because we withdrew. And there in Bureli, there in Albania, the ones who were most guilty for our failures put the blame on Pando. There was one person among us who had the courage to say to them: ‘If you judge our commander, then you should also judge us, and only because we are still alive… We are still alive thanks to Pando.’ Let me also tell you this... When I look at all these nasty things they did, I start thinking about what I’m most sorry about. Why did I stay alive... why didn’t I burn under the napalm, why didn’t they kill me?”

“Our rifles are resting by our side. What rifles, huh? They disarmed us at gunpoint the moment we crossed the Albanian border. We felt naked without our rifles. We had slept, thought and defended ourselves with them for over three years.”

“Almost without exception all of us were supporters of Zahariadis. That attachment had been forced upon us since we were children.

Now that he isn’t here it should be easy to throw stones and mud at him but who has the courage to even say one bad word about him? We were hypnotized when someone said his name. We were overjoyed to see him. Like the Germans who fell in love with Hitler or like the Russians and all the Caucasians and Asians and communists in the world who loved the great Stalin, father of the people, as was written only in capital letters... And there in Yugoslavia was there a brave person to say a single bad word about Tito? No! Their names and fame were well-protected with the help of the concentration camps. They didn’t re-educate anyone there... And we, at the behest of the party and our own minions, weren’t forced to celebrate Tito until after that damn INFORM-BUREAU (Communist and Labour Party Information Bureau. One of the bloc’s most important institutions of Soviet influence. Its genesis should be sought in the worsening relations between the United States and its Western allies and the USSR. Influenced by the USSR, Stalin needed closer co-ordination and control of activities in state organizations belonging to the eastern bloc countries. Hence, a decision was made in Moscow to hold a meeting between the senior communist representatives of the USSR, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, Czechoslovakia, Poland, France and Italy. The meeting was held on September 22-27, 1947, in Shklarska Poreba, western Poland. At first the headquarters was located in Belgrade, but after misunderstandings between Tito and Stalin it was moved to Bucharest. It was officially liquidated in 1956 when it was virtually no longer needed. The Communist Party of Greece adopted a resolution that sharply strained relations with Yugoslavia. The CPG blamed Yugoslavia for the defeat of the Communists during the Greek Civil War. The Macedonian leadership and many activists and individuals were declared Tito’s agents) resolution was proclaimed, and after the proclamation they made us hate him, swear at him and defile him with the dirtiest words we could think of... We went to war with weaklings and lost the war with weaklings. But then Tito was blamed for that, right? If Tito was the cause of our demise because we all followed him, then why were the Greek partisans, our comrades, not accused of being Tito’s agents? Why only us Macedonians? There has to be a reason for that, right? As you can see they, those above, placed a clear dividing line between the Macedonian and Greek partisans. The Macedonian partisans who were labeled Tito’s agents became the enemy of the