Chapter 19

Chapter 19

They passed though the ravine and took the path that led to the coast. The two DAG soldiers walked ahead. The older children followed. The five to ten year olds, holding hands and looking ahead, took smaller steps and walked behind them in a long column. Walking with them were their mothers and the women looking after them. Following them were the horses with baskets on their backs and in the baskets lay the two, three and four year old children. They were silent now, most being rocked to sleep by the moving horses, some, sticking their little heads out, were looking at the high peaks of the hills and mountains, the white clouds in the sky, the outcrops of boulders… and frequently yawned. They leaned their little heads on their shoulders and, while being rocked by the motion of the moving horses and mesmerized by the clatter of horse hooves, they slowly sunk into slumber. A woman of about thirty, wearing a black head kerchief, went from basket to basket and, while propping herself on the baskets, looked in on the little children. Some she lightly touched on the head. Once in a while she sighed and shed a tear while staring ahead. Water was heard splashing at their side. It sounded like it was falling from a great height and scattering on the rocks. Cold drops fell on them. The children covered their faces with their hands. The column turned right and began to walk uphill. It slowed down. The DAG soldiers raised their hands up in the air. An armed man ran down towards them.

“Stop, Stop!” he yelled and waved with one of his hands while pointing his machine gun at the hill with the other. “Turn back, turn back!” he yelled, “Turn back go down, go down I said!”

The column stopped. Suddenly there was thunder. The brooks and gullies were filled with echoes that sounded like a strong thunderstorm. The horses became frightened. The second and third roar of exploding shells sent the children running in panic. They ran in all directions, screaming and crying.

“Mommy! Mommy!” a voice was heard calling. It was a five or six year old girl, standing alone in the middle of the path, stretching her arms out, stomping on the dust, and calling: “Mommy! Mommy!”

A woman ran to her, hugged her, took her bag in one arm and the little girl in the other and ran for cover.

There was a lot of shouting… children crying and screaming… mothers calling… DAG fighters yelling… More DAG fighters ran down from the top of the hill to help out. The children who had run down into the ravine and those who had hidden in the grove were gathered together at a clearance on the other side of the hill. The frightened children were eventually gathered together in one group and were joined by the mothers who accompanied them. Attendance was taken and each child was accounted for. They were asked to sit down and rest.

The sun had gone beyond the mountain top and a shadow began to fall on the clearance where the children were resting. The two DAG soldiers called the women in charge for a meeting, during which a few things were briefly explained.

One of the soldiers said: “We will stay here until nightfall. The fighters that came from above told us that a large government military (enemy) unit was seen making its way towards Aliavitsa. Therefore we cannot go in that direction... Don’t tell the mothers anything. Go back and pretend as if nothing was said… just tell them we will be resting here for a while longer. Sit the children under the pine trees and give them something to eat. And no movement!”

After the women went back to the children, the two DAG fighters stayed where they were. They each lit a cigarette and stared at the hill where cannons were rumbling.

“Open the map. Let us see where we are now,” said the older fighter. He then ran his finger over the map, pointed at one spot and said: “We crossed this stream. Now we are here. We should continue, but along this path…”

“If we follow that path we will be late and we will miss our connection,” said the younger fighter. “We are scheduled to make our connection today, eight hours after sunset. We need to be here,” he said and knocked on the map with his finger.

“No. I don’t think we will be able to make it there today at the specified time. I am worried that we will be running into the aircraft and they will ruin everything. If our fighters manage to repel the government troops, then our path will be free. Here, look. We are here now. We needed to continue on this path and exit at this pass. If we go down here through the river we will connect with this path... wait ... the map is damaged, I can’t see anything beyond here...” said the older fighter.

“Okay, if you can’t see anything on the map… no problem… I know that place well. I can go through it during the night with my eyes closed...” said the younger fighter.

“You best keep your eyes open... We are leading children here and their mothers are with them... It is precisely now that the Burandary (enemy forces) in Kostur are making their move,” said the older fighter.

“And how do you know that they are making their move from Kostur and not from Chetirok or Nestram?” asked the younger fighter.

“It doesn’t matter where they are coming from... My point is they are ruining our plans... I just want you to understand that... But you know something, I still think we can do this…” said the older fighter.

“If we proceed and don’t make our connection and if the government units cut us off, then what?” asked the younger fighter.

“Then we will not go to the designated place and we will bring the children back up here... They can cross the border here…” said the older fighter.

“What if they don’t accept them here, then? We were ordered to bring them here!” said the younger fighter while pointing at the map with his finger. “They will not take them at any old place, will they? If it was arranged to bring them here then we must bring them here. If we bring them to another place then who knows how long it will

take before they are picked up. I am looking at the map and I don’t see a road where tracks can travel. They will be expecting them to arrive here... That’s why they ordered us to bring them here. What do you think?” said the younger fighter.

A woman was coming towards them. They ended their conversation.

“Come, have something to eat,” she said and pointed to a place where the children and women were sitting and eating. “Come, join us and have something to eat.”

“You go ahead, dear mother,” said the younger fighter. “Let the children eat and rest. “We have our own food here,” he tapped his backpack with his hand.

The woman returned to the children. She walked quietly and slowly while taking careful steps on the moist ground. The older fighter yelled: “Do you have water? If you do send someone to bring us some…”

The two DAG fighters, and guides of this expedition, sat on the side of the path, under the shade of the tall pine tree, took off their backpacks, opened a can of meat, broke a piece of rye bread each and began to eat.

“What a feeble-minded person!” muttered the older fighter.

“What did you say?” asked the younger fighter.

“I said what feeble-minded person…” replied the older fighter.

“Who are you talking about?” asked the younger fighter.

“The person, the feeble-minded person who ordered us to take the children…! What will happen if an airplane flies in this open space and sees the children under these pine trees? Never mind. Let us eat and we will move deeper into the woods,” replied the older fighter.

They suddenly heard long machine gun bursts nearby. They could also hear, quite clearly, explosions of cannon shells. They stopped eating.

The older fighter asked the younger one to investigate. He said: “Go up there, on the top of the hill and see what’s going on… and come back quickly.” But before the two DAG soldiers were finished collecting their food and putting it away in their backpacks, an armed horseman arrived and ordered them to secure the children.

He said: “Take the children deeper into the woods. Stay there until the end of the day. We will move out after dark. I am taking command of the column. From now on you will take orders from me. These are your orders from headquarters.”

“I understand!” said the older fighter, saluted and went to secure the children.

At nightfall they gathered in the open. A cold wind was blowing from the mountains. The man riding the horse waved his arm and said: “Follow me!” and moved ahead.

The children began to move. They slowly formed a column. They walked the same as before… holding hands and holding the dresses of their mothers. The light of the setting sun was still visible on the peaks of distant hills… The children loaded in baskets riding on horses joined the column. Darkness began to descend. The terrain became less and less visible.

“Children!” yelled the older fighter. “Hold on to one another... Walk slowly and steadily!” he added in a gentle and comforting tone of voice.

The mothers, who kept the children company in the baskets, gave them clothing to put on, including their own jackets.

Lena Kostova handed the harness of one of the horses to an older boy and said: “Young man, grab this harness. I want to see why this child is crying?”

She pulled off the blanket and uncovered the basket. Maria was crying quietly. This was Fana Pandov’s little daughter. Her mother Fana was not able to accompany her. She stayed home with her one year old son. It was up to Lena now to take care of her. She picked her up, took her in her arms and did her best to soothe her. The little girl embraced Lena and hugged her tightly around her neck and continued to sob intermittently.

“I want my mommy…” she said loudly in Lena’s ear and began to cry.

It was dark in the mountains, especially in the dense forests. They walked in the dark, stumbling, falling, crying… Every few hours they stopped for about twenty minutes and then went off again in the dark. They crossed a river and came out all wet. Some up to their knees, others, the ones who fell in the cold mountain water, needed immediate changing. The ones who had no change of clothing had to wear the same wet clothes after they had been squeezed and wrung out by the mothers. There was a curve in the road past the wooden bridge. The horseman yelled out: “Be careful, the path is narrow. Walk one by one!”

Water was heard running immediately under the path they were following. They began to take shorter and steadier steps.

“Stop! Stop!” a frightened female voice was heard yelling, “Stop!”

A horse’s neighing was heard coming from the river below, accompanied by a squeaky, long cry of a child.

Both DAG fighters yelled and ordered everyone to stop and move to the opposite side of the path away from the river. One of them shone his battery powered flashlight in the direction of the crying. He then yelled: “I am coming down, I am coming. Is anyone hurt?”

He went down. Two women were standing in the river knee deep in water. They untied the baskets resting on the saddle. The children, all wet, were clutching the baskets tightly with their cold hands and crying loudly. One by one they took them up to the path. The women climbed after them.

“What about the horse?” asked the fighter standing beside it.

“Leave it there,” said one of the women who had examined it. “It doesn’t seem to be able to stand up. It probably broke a leg.

The wet children were given a change of clothing and the column began to move again. The horse’s painful neighing and crying was heard far in the distance in the dark.

After an hour and a half of walking, the fighter riding the horse ordered everyone to stop and rest.

One of the women approached him and complained. She said: “We can’t continue like this. We are all exhausted. The children are falling asleep.” Then after a short pause, she looked up, raised her hands towards the sky and said: “Well, now it’s starting to rain...”

“Another half an hour’s walk and we will be arriving at a village. We will stay there until dawn. Now let’s move out!” ordered the fighter riding the horse.

They arrived at the village two hours after midnight. The children were split up and taken to various houses.

The president of the village board angrily addressed the horseman: “You Comrade are soulless… It seems to me like you don’t know anything about children. How can you possibly travel at night with such young children… and so many of them?”

“I have orders… Sir!” replied the horseman.

“Orders?!” repeated the president, “Orders? Screw your orders and those who gave them to you…”

“Sir, Comrade, please no swearing,” replied the horseman and, in a gentler tone of voice, asked: “Have we made our schedule?”

“No! You are half a day late. They waited, waited... and waited. I sent a courier but he came back and said that he met no one on the road that you were expected to travel.” said the president.

“We had to take another road. We were met with unforeseen circumstances. When did the earlier column leave?” asked the horseman.

“Before sunset… The courier from Nikoler arrived and said a battalion of government troops had attacked but they repulsed the attack, that’s how the column of children who arrived earlier were able to leave. And as I said, they left before sunset. They have been on the road for seven hours now,” said the president.

“Good then. I will ride off to the following link, and you will take care of this column and make sure it leaves on time,” replied the horseman.

The women lit fires and dried clothes until dawn. The children, lying one beside another, slept and cried. They must have been dreaming of hills, forests, crazy waters, trees as tall as the sky and a number of other scary things... A mother, leaning in the corner of the room was holding a five year old girl in her lap. The little girl was rocking left and right while staring at the dancing flames and the coals turning to ashes in the fireplace.

“Mommy?” said the little girl.

“What is it, dear?” asked her mother.

“Are we there yet?” she asked.

“No, my dear… sleep now…” replied her mother.

“How much further is it, Mommy?” she asked.

“Just a little further…” replied her mother.

“Do we need to cross three more rivers and climb over five mountains, Mommy? Tell me Mommy?” said the little girl, paused

for a moment and then said: “Mommy, tell me the story about Silian the Stork? Please…?”

“I will tell it to you but you have to promise me you will go to sleep...” replied her mother.

“Okay, I promise,” said the little girl.

“In the old days, a long, long time ago…” began her mother, “there was a stork…” but before she was able to finish telling the story the little girl fell asleep in her lap. “That’s okay,” her mother whispered, “when you come back to me I will finish telling you the rest of the story. Sleep, sleep now my dear child...”

A strong wind began to blow during the night. It came in snarling waves twisting the pine trees and causing their trunks to crunch and moan.

They woke the children early in the morning. The sun came up. It was sunny but cold outside. The nearby mountain peaks were covered with snow. Lena Kostova gathered the clothes she had hung the night before in the various rooms to dry. Her face looked withered. When she came back she went from child to child, touching the little ones on the head and smiling at them. Half asleep, not quite awake, she quickly dressed them and put on their shoes.

Both DAG soldiers were going from house to house urging the women to hurry with dressing and feeding the children. “Hurry, please…” said the older fighter, “our time is fleeting…” Then, after a long and extended cough, he said to his comrade: “You can say, so far it’s been okay for us… we did okay.” He paused, looked into the distance and said: “Look up there…” pointing at the mountaintops with his head. “Snow awaits us at the pass my friend, let’s go back and tell the women to dress the children in warmer clothes.”

“We will stomp down the snow…” said the younger fighter after thinking about it for a moment and then asked: “Did a courier arrive last night?”

“For what?” asked the older fighter.

“What do you mean for what? Do we know what awaits us beyond the pass?” replied the younger fighter with a tone of concern in his voice.

“Well, you heard the president last night saying that the attack was repelled, right?” said the older fighter.

“Yes, that true… but this silence disturbs me. This village was always full of our fighters. Right now I don’t see any. I did not see any on the road either, except for those who appeared to us from the hill yesterday...”

“I think they are here, somewhere nearby. I overheard someone say that all our units were going to be pulled away from the road the children will take,” said the older fighter.

“Why?” asked the younger one.

“To keep their fathers, brothers and sisters away so that they don’t get upset. If they see their own children…” he broke out coughing again and after a long cough he said: “Right here…” he hit his chest and continued: “I have a burning feeling right here, it is quite painful… Do you think the fathers will be happy if they see their own children…? Let’s go. Let’s tell them to get moving. We have a long way to go, we will be moving the entire day. It remains to be seen how long we can endure…”

They finally got moving but a little later than expected. It was still morning. Now, immediately following the DAG fighters in the mud made by the military boots the night before, followed the horses with the loaded baskets. Following the horses were the little ones all bundled to protect them from the morning cold and wind. The children looked on and occasionally rubbed their eyes. They smudged the tears forced out by the cold mountain air on their faces and cheeks. Following them were the older children. This new arrangement was ordered by the older DAG fighter.

“The older children will want to walk faster and being behind the younger ones they will push them ahead of them to go faster,” said the older fighter to justify the new arrangement.

They were led on a narrow snaking path up the hill. The path was full of small cracks, baked by the sun, frozen by the cold and washed by the rain. Small pebbles flew out of the horse hooves as they dug into the soil, loosening them. The head of the column reached a wider section of the path from where the end of the column could be seen. The village they had just left, surrounded by tall pines, was visible from up here. Grey smoke billowed over the village rooftops. A sparkling river flowed at the side of the village. Its rustling water could be heard all the way up here. It was quiet in the mountain. The only noises heard were those of the stomping horse hooves, the older fighter’s coughing and the quiet whispers of the women. The view was spectacular; the mountains, the valleys and the brooks running through them were all visible. The snow that had been seen from the distance early in the morning was slowly diminishing, melting in the strong rays of the sun.

For two hours they had been walking on wet snow and mud. It seemed like an entire day had passed. The head of the column began to descend into the valley on the other side, while those at the end were finally arriving at the pass. An hour later they all gathered in a wide valley. It was warm and no wind was blowing. The yellow spring flowers on the dogwood tree quivered in the gentle breeze. New shoots of tender green grass pushed their way past last autumn’s yellow leaves burned by the early spring frost.

“Rest!” yelled the older fighter. “An hour and a half rest and then we move on. You can start fires,” he added.

Let loose, the young girls took a stroll in the thick forest and on the grounds in the green meadow and gently picked daisies.

At Mitre’s house, in the meantime, Mitre, Kiro and Giorgi sat in the guest room and smoked cigarettes made from strong tobacco. It almost seemed like they were attending a wake as they discussed the exodus of our people.

“Who knows how far they will take us, beginning with the exodus of our children…” mumbled Kiro through his nose.

“Last night I was walking past Pando’s house. Pando was sitting in the yard and so I said hello Pando. He ignored me. He then bowed his head. He sat there daydreaming. Lost in his own thoughts…” said Giorgi.

“Do you think he is the only one?” replied Mitre. “The entire village is like that, Giorgi!”

“My poor Mara,” said Kiro, “has been crying her eyes out. Our village is becoming desolate, she said. She went out to the village square last night, she said, and the entire village was desolate, she did not see a single soul. It was deserted. No sound, no voice, no laughter... only the dogs ran wild through the neighbourhoods, she said. We have never had such silence! What happened to our life, she asked? Let me also tell you, she said, that this is the first time I have seen our people so depleted. On the way back she met Kuze the lizard. He too was silent and looking down with hung eyebrows. He looked like he was lost. She asked him how he was doing and he, in his usual way, pointed to his chest and said he felt tight right there. And before he left, he said to her that he had asked Vera if our children were going to be okay in those countries? And Vera told him they will not only be okay, but if only God Kuze could grant you such good things too. There in those countries, Kuze told Mara, there is bread around every corner... and all the delights your heart may desire... And so Kuze said he felt somewhat relieved then but that relief did not last long… Now he feels even worse than before, he said... that’s what my wife told me…” concluded Kiro.

“Kuze,” said Mitre, “believes the words of a stranger as truth. Let it be that way... maybe it is easier for him... But what I am wondering now is why have the women taken so long to return? Our village has become desolate without the children. Like the wind blew them away. They left and to me it seems like they were separated from us and banished... They were torn out from the chest of their motherland... Broken off like a chunk of rock from a boulder… they rolled off and got lost... How many roads will they take? Will they separate them? Will they forget us? And when and what mother will

collect them? Who and where will they find the flock to collect? Eh?”

* * *

They left the fires burning in the mountain meadow. The flames died out and the coals turned to ashes. The column left the valley and walked through the plowed fields. Village dogs were heard barking, announcing the arrival of the column. They reached Lobanitsa at nightfall.

And in the twilight, during the evening, when the light breeze gently shook the dew off the tender spring leaves and brought with it the aroma of mint, the children gathered. They stayed in the villages, all gathered together, resting in the arms of their mothers until the afternoon of the next day. They left again at sunset. A half hour later, a man on a horse wearing a leather coat, a military belt and a leather bag over his shoulder, while pointing with his hand, made a loud announcement.

He said: “Mothers and all others who escorted the children here please stand on this side. Say goodbye to them now.” He then turned his head towards the border so as not to look at the weeping mothers and children. He did not want to look at the convulsive chests and shoulders or the bitter looks on their faces. He did not want to see the faces crying and wailing…

The children moved on... frightened, crying, praying, looking back and yelling, hurting… they moved on... Their mothers stood there on the hill motionless and in silence… The place was packed with people but the hill remained silent until the long, crying column disappeared...

The sun began to set behind Morava. Only minutes now before its last rays disappear behind the mountain.

“They are gone…” one of the women said quietly in a whiny tone of voice.

Darkness descended from the surrounding mountains.

“They are gone…” silently and painfully said hundreds of mouths as they lifted their hands, took off their black head kerchiefs and began to wave them in the air gesturing “Safe trip!” to the children. They all stood there, on top of the hill waving their dark head kerchiefs in the dark of night.

How they decided it was time to leave, they themselves did not know. They left in the dark of night and located each other only by their loud sighs, the silent moans and prayers, prayed to God and the Virgin Mary to look after their little ones...

The church in Lobanitsa was too small to fit them all. The majority stayed outside and they took turns going inside, lighting a candle and praying for the safety and safe return of their little ones.