The Great Decline – Chapter 3 - Part 02

Here I learned about the many lies and truths through my stories which I will try to introduce to our American public. Stories that your people told me, people who spoke very plainly; mostly illiterate peasants. I had patience and through an interpreter I

listened to everyone and wrote down every word they said. Beaten down and bare handed, I am told, led by the Communists, which was worst, these people rose up against the state which uses our (American) money and weapons to ruthlessly abuse and beat them down. I have written in my notebook that, through the Truman Doctrine, my country (the United States of America) has awarded Greece: 142 aircraft with seven thousand bombs, ninety-seven thousand rifles, three thousand, eight hundred and ninety mortars and machine guns, four million cannons and mortars and three hundred million bullets. There is also a lot of information in my notebook concerning large sums of money and other types of grants given to Greece... Everything that has been given to Greece to this day has been listed.

The question now is how much more will there be given in order to bring extinction to the Slav-Communists and Communist gangs, as per General Van Fleet’s report? General Van Fleet is chief advisor to the American regime in Greece. There is a Civil War raging in Greece, my dear Jim, and it is harnessing your people, the Macedonians. According to various sources, including the Greek royal headquarters and the communist party leadership, there are 25 thousand Partisan fighters of whom 11 thousand are Macedonians. Semi-official Greek sources claim that eighty thousand indigenous Slavs, who call themselves Macedonians, live in Greece. If that is true then every eighth Macedonian person is at the front line right now. And those behind the scenes in Kostur, Lerin and Voden District are mobilized by the Communists. What horror! America loves numbers! About your compatriots, my dear Jim, they are in real danger! Your people here are beaten down and their torment is used to promote destruction and hatred. They are a deep, open wound, which if it ever heals will leave a visible scar that will haunt the souls of many generations. People here are thrown to the bottom of human humiliation, their souls crushed to a breaking point. The state has cast them to hell. I met people who know nothing outside of fighting. They are being cast to hell. They fight when they are awake and they fight while sleeping. The fireplaces here have lost their warmth. If the Communists lose, and that with American help, then it will mean a certain end for you Macedonians...” concluded the letter.

“My dear friend whom I have not met,

I am sorry I saddled you with all those numbers. Forgive me. Such is my profession. Let me return back to where I started. While your mother was speaking, I maintained my continuous silence, listening to every word she said and memorizing every flicker of her wrinkled cheeks and forehead. I enjoyed listening to her beautiful, heartfelt and peaceful voice which seemed like everything was hers yesterday and today. And tomorrow? I, my dear Jim, am frightened and appalled by the things that are going on... And another thing: a persistent universal rule of the sun exists here. Besides that, the devil burns and scorches here and there is no escape anywhere; there is no hope; this place is a place of damnation... And I ask myself: who did this and why? Nothing happens by accident in this region, nothing is done without purpose and specific expectations and no one and nothing is without fault… Who is responsible for the fate of this place? Who is responsible for the disaster unleashed? And is there an escape from it? And why, my dear friend is there so much suffering in this land of the sun?!!! The sunrises and sunsets here have the most beautiful colours - from the brightest white to the deepest purple. Every dawn, every morning generates a rainbow of magnificent colours. I have been so privileged to witness them...

This has been going on forever! They say the sun is born in a chain and with it comes suffering. Is that the only thing? The night is for rest, they say, and before going to sleep there are moments of much thinking; what would the next day be like? The next day comes with the birth of the sun, complete and self-leading... And that’s how it should be! But beyond that there is evil that drains and spreads like an island on the ground and with the birth and warmth of each sun, it poisons and burns everything. It continues to poison everything during the night but it seems less so in the dark. Is it because it is less visible? And in those brief moments of thought before going to sleep, pressing and turning in my head is the question: What are light, stone, time and man? Are they traps that enslave? What is a person who lusts for power? A blind weapon? One who lives in delirium and is unable to think and assess and reassess his or her own actions? One who is unable to understand his or her own behavior? And can such a person actually be fit to lead others? And

more importantly can others not see who they were led by? Is this not like lambs being led to slaughter?” concluded the letter.

“Dear Jim,

I cannot get my head around all this. I feel like I am broken... The world is woven from depravity that leads to hopelessness. The world in which I walked so far is without faith, but not the people who live in it. It was destiny that I met your mother who made me understand and assured me that there are people who know how to trust and how to hope in the spirituality of the day and who are free of demons. I think and have come to realize that where cynicism and nihilism triumph, animal instinct prevails and the world turns to hell. It is fierce and vicious... disgusting and unfortunately very true...

The surprise however is, when in the face of an old woman, you see anticipation and great and unlimited hope. This is a feeling free from all vices, hatred and reluctance! Your mother often said to me: ‘Bad times have come, my son, bad times have come.’ This means that if they come then they must also go. Storms come and go. Isn’t that how nature works? Is this faith something new? No, because her whole life has been full of storms, floods, uncertainty and things that destiny delivers but then there is the calm… Initially I thought of this as some kind of Jewish perseverance… But it is not… It is something else. It is not Jewish, it is from here, it is yours. I say yours because you, my dear Jim, I believe still belong here... This is your perseverance and endurance as Macedonians.

I am convinced that there is no other way out: just perseverance and patience. Your mother told me the same thing... And I am not surprised because so many of your people here bear the names Traiko, Traianka, Zhivko and Zhivka, and the names of Orthodox saints and of the apostles including Peter and Paul. All indicative of faith, hope, perseverance and patience and... God!!! And when she prayed, when she crossed herself, when she looked up into the sky, when the light from the sun, the light from the oil lamp illuminated her face, they created a glint in her eyes. Her prayers were hearty, simple, open and seemed like God was going come down from the sky... And I, since the very beginning of my inexorable mixed feelings, in being reconciliatory and enchanted, as if I had fallen into

a deep spell, stunned and numb, watched her... I knelt beside her, bent down, lifted her hand and kissed it... I also kissed the plate in front of the altar which your mother touched with her temple and I bowed before it… No, I do not have sympathy and compassion for the old woman, only admiration... I have much admiration for her endurance, patience and great hope… I felt small and weak beside her! And when she said ‘new times will come’ I heard in her scant, seemingly poor words, infinite duration and triumph! Again and again I looked into her eyes. I watched her face and forehead full of wrinkles… I again bowed down and kissed her hands... I was again filled with admiration…

She said she lived on this same spot, on this piece of God’s country for ninety years. She said she never moved and she never traveled, not even for one day. Never in her life has she ever left the warmth of the sun and the goodness of this earth on which she was born and grew up. Never has she ever thought of leaving this fruitful and bountiful land which has supported her family and her ancestors for generations. This land on which she stands is her life’s wealth... The sun and the fruit of the land are equal to life. The land must not be abandoned, there must be no divide between it and the people who live on it because if a wide gap occurs then the land will become void and it will be covered with weeds. When a child is taken away from its mother’s arms then direct contact is broken from the warmth of her breast and from her milk. The mother’s body becomes distant. Mother and child can only be one over her breast. Taking the child away is a division tactic and early separation between mother and child creates new relationships. Is it not the same with a country and with its people? For as long as you stand or lie on it, for as long as you feel it under your feet, for as long as you touch it, cultivate it, venerate it, then, you and the land are one. Is that not true with your hearth? For as long as its smoulders, for as long as a single spark exists, for as long as you feel its warmth on your fingers, then it is a part of life. If it runs out of smouldering coals then the fireplace becomes a simple ornament, a simple memory just like a distant childhood memory...

The day started and ended in conversation and discussion. The sun freely set. The grey arrived with a frown, swirling around until darkness fell, seeming like a dark cloud had fallen covering

everything, and behind the cloud half the sun leaned over the hill. Flame burned in the sky and the ridge was covered in velvet purple as the fireball fell behind the hill and the last light dimmed. The end of the day had arrived.

We sat on the doorstep of what once was a house and gazed at the sunset. I looked into the old woman’s eyes attempting to gaze into her soul and understand her feelings. And then I realized that in heinous times such as these, her soul would be like ointment on an open wound... And her eyes!!! I looked into them with noble inspiration. I thought to myself, there is still a spark in them even after experiencing generations of devastation, hardship, evil and the burden of time...

When she handed me the letters, when she showed me her wardrobe, when she showed me the broken cradle... A cloud covered the sky... The evening came quickly and we hardly noticed when darkness fell. Darkness grew and enveloped us with every passing moment, with every spoken word… And with every breath and sigh she took I felt her pain and loneliness, her bitterness and torment… I felt a lump inside of me as hard as a rock... The way she took her breath and sighed told a story of its own… A sad story… I could not shake the feeling that all this great big darkness suggested only evil... we were together, facing each other and sensing our dark and heavy burden through our breathing, seeming like we could see our feelings through it... Suddenly the full moon appeared from behind the thick dark cloud, a gentle wind blew and the sky filled with stars… many bright stars the likes of which I have never seen before. We looked at each other in the starlight in silence, barely noticing that the moon was turning, the stars were dimming and the Milky Way was slowly melting away… And down here, the darkness was turning grey giving way to dawn…” concluded the letter.

“Dear Jim,

It is daybreak. Dawn has arrived. There is whiteness and colour appearing above the grey, twisted and blurred cloud. The sun is rising, making its morning appearance, giving the landscape a rainbow of colours; yellow, pink, gold, red, purple… each taking its

turn appearing and slowly disappearing. The ominous cloud is visible now. The sun has magically given it a layer of purple... We are still sitting on the doorstep and our words kept falling like autumn leaves. There was silence... The sun found us looking at one another. Suddenly the silence was broken by some barking. Further down in the upper neighbourhoods a column of soldiers appeared. They were walking though an area that was once houses. It was the government army and many of the soldiers were carrying American arms. Your mother stared at the soldiers for a long time and then quietly said: “The soldiers have come to beat our people...”

I said nothing… I did not know what to say… I felt ashamed… I felt a great void, a wide gap coming between us. Now I remembered why I had no answer as to why Macedonians fled to the mountains along with some Greeks. I did not know... why! And to justify my weakness and ignorance to myself, dear Jim, I said to myself: everyone has their cross to bear... Today or tomorrow I will finish this letter and will send it to you as soon as possible…” concluded the letter.

They also found a bottle half full of yellow liquid in the back pack. It had a smell of something singed and although it had the same aroma as rakia it was not the same kind of rakia they were accustomed to; strong and made of grapes... They took the bottle passed it around from person to person and each in turn took a sip from it. As they felt the burn from the alcohol, they each had their own opinion as to its taste and strength.

As for the letters, each person, in their own way, told and retold the pain the stranger had experienced. The letters had a profound effect on all of them because in the letters they saw something of themselves, of their own homes and in the old woman they each saw something of their own mothers. And of the stranger lying dead in the ditch, they were curious as to why he, so persistently and passionately, wanted to enter the soul of the old woman and wondered why he wanted to feel all her past experiences, to understand her joy and pain, when around here, cruel hatred prevailed?

They found nothing strange about the incomprehensible foreign language; they found it warm and close... But, when the commissar caught them and yelled at the one reading and translating the letters, they all swore and had bitter words for it…