PART I

At the same time Urania Papaioannou instantly regretted not having used her perfect smile and charm. One of the gunmen pushed her aside and she fell into the arms of Peter MacDonald and knocked him in the face. Without apologizing to the Englishman, whose nose she had broken and from which blood was gushing, she got up again and approached the gunmen.

“Soon you will pay for this comedy!” she said with a quiet but menacing tone of voice. “I will report you to the police!” she added.

A gunman with a scar on his forehead grabbed her by the arm and pushed her. Urania barely avoided hitting her head on the counter. She fell on the floor and landed on all fours like a cat. The same gunman went near her and pointed his gun at her head.

“We are the bloody police,” he said. “If you have any complaints against my people you complain to me!” he added. He then laughed rudely and left her alone. He then went to the table where Pondilaki and the dock workers sat. With an easy step he approached Pondilaki. He gave him a stern look with a cold expression on his face. He then noticed the dock workers lowering their hands and placing them in their pay pockets.

“I did not know that communists ruled this boarding house,” he said to Pondilaki with a smile that showed his yellowed teeth.

“I don’t know you, sir. Perhaps you can introduce yourself?” Pondilaki calmly said to the gunman and, while looking at him, with

his right hand he firmly grabbed the pistol that he was packing in his jacket pocket. He turned the barrel toward the policeman and decided not to shoot, but to hold off as long as possible so as not to cause a hassle. He was hoping that the police were not there looking for him or his people. For a moment he suspected that the police were there looking for Nikos Zaikopoulos but he quickly dismissed that thought.

“We know each other from a long time ago, Mr. Pondilaki. If it was not for your gun that I smelled from miles away, we would have been talking differently. So let us leave our work until we meet the next time,” said the policeman, showing his decayed teeth covered with yellow tar.

“That is acceptable to me, Sir,” replied Pondilaki calmly, turning his eyes towards the glass that rested on the table.

The policemen left the table where the dock workers were sitting. Nikos Zaikopoulos was happy that no holes were put through his chest and no blood covered his black coat. He just sighed deeply and was happy to be alive.

5. A loud noise was heard coming from one of the rooms. There was a long silence. The police officer sent one of his three companions to investigate who was in the boarding house and to see what was going on in the rooms. The skinny policeman ran up the stairs that led into the rooms. When he reached the top of the stairs he saw a man about forty years old who had been shot and blood was running from his right thigh and covering his expensive, dark brown pants. His face was distorted from the pain. He was unable to stand on his feet and rolled down the stairs. His hair was a mess. He stopped rolling when he hit Urania’s bare feet. Blood gushed from his good-looking face as he lay motionless on the floor. The policeman who shot him came over. Then the man suddenly rose up and grabbed the policeman by the legs. He tried to bring him down but did not succeed. The policeman freed himself from his arms and kicked the man in the face with his shoes, several times in succession. The policeman then pointed the gun at the injured man’s head.

“You communist bastard! You old Bulgarian dog! I will end your wretched life here!” growled the policeman angrily and pushed the pointy end of his gun barrel against the man’s messy hair.

The man raised his head slightly and, without looking at the gun barrel, stood up. He looked into the policeman’s eyes and smiled mockingly. He was proud even though his face was covered with blood. He looked around and gazed at the customers in the café. There was plea for help in his eyes but he refused to beg for mercy.

6. Pondilaki recognized the man. He was the same man who always dressed beautifully and sat at the “reserved” table. Urania Papaioannou broke down and began to weep. Her tears dripped on the wounded man, washing the blood from his smooth face. The man tried to stand up but quickly fell on the floor. The policeman who stood beside him looked straight into his eyes and wondered why this man was not surrendering. Perhaps he was momentarily confused and did not know what to do, he thought. Urania Papaioannou suddenly screamed out loud, filling the hearts of her customers with terror. She grabbed the man by the shoulders before he hit the floor and hugged him gently. Everyone was in awe. They were all speechless by the sight that filled their eyes with admiration. Urania cried and repeatedly kissed the man. She patted his messy hair. They were all confused, the policemen too. They all stood there attentive and silent, doing nothing while waiting for the tense situation to unwind. Foti Steriov had not lowered his hands. He stood behind the counter with his hands still up. He wanted to help Urania but did not know how. He was surprised by the great pain she exhibited.

7. “Hristo Papaioannou, Urania’s twin brother. Nobody expected that their life would end in the ‘Macedonia’ boarding house. You poor animal, I saw your picture in the police archives and brought my faithful friends with me to pay you a visit. I serve the king and I carry my beliefs and my hatred of the communists in my genes,” said Hash to himself with a sarcastic smile dancing around his face. He looked around with his snake eyes and secretly filled his soul with pride for the crime he had just committed. He was overjoyed

and wanted to stick his nose in Artemis’s large chest, but he did not do that, for fear of revealing his part in this bloody game. That would have shortened the pleasure of enjoying the benefits offered to him by Urania. Instead he smugly continued to quietly and calmly observe the situation, especially Urania who was suffocating by this personal misfortune.

“When the bitch finds out that I betrayed her Hristo to the police, she will dig my eyes out. But I am a clever man and I will take delight in her tavern, with her girls and with her… Why not?” Hash pondered.

8. “Take the dog away!” ordered the policeman who had earlier pushed Urania out of the way. His voice was stern, deep and hoarse. The policemen grabbed Urania and pulled her off Hristo. She screamed and cried out loud uncontrollably, tears flowing like raindrops from her beautiful eyes. She was in great pain.

“Leave my brother…” she begged them through her tears. “He is the only one I have in the entire world,” she sobbed. She went down on her knees and began to kiss the lead policeman’s shoes, but to no avail.

“Take him!” he commanded again with a stern tone of voice and kicked Urania in the face. The other policemen grabbed Histo and pushed him out of the boarding house.

Urania crawled on her knees to the door of the boarding house and through her tears begged them to let him go, but the policemen were not paying attention and went out. Urania rose from the floor and ran after them. One policeman shoved Hristo in a car and they all left. Urania stood at the door for a while and then returned to the boarding house. With her head bowed down she walked past the tables and, without speaking to anyone, climbed the stairs to her room where she lay in bed and wept in anguish.

9. A murmur was heard in the boarding house. It was Pondilaki coughing. He looked puzzled.

“Who would have thought that Urania had a brother who was a communist?” said Manoli Strezovski breaking the silence.

“Is something troubling you Pondilaki?” asked Nikos.

“I am interested to know why the police are arresting communists. We fought together to liberate our country. What was this man guilty of? Helping liberate our country!? We need to re-examine our own journey into the future in this blood-stained lump of land we call our country. May the devil take me away, am I going crazy?” said Pondilaki and took a sip of rakia.

“The Athens government supports and propagates the arrest of communists. I am sorry for the man. I should have laid them all on the floor right here…” said Nikos in an angry tone of voice.

“Nikos, now is not the time to rush, you will fulfill your desire when the time is more convenient,” replied Pondilaki.

“It is sad but you are right. We may have to go to the mountains again. Then we will aim better,” said Nikos.

“For sure, Nikos, this will be our fight then …” said Pondilaki and got up from his chair.

“Are we going?” asked Nikos surprised.

“It’s time to go. My head is hurting from talking. We all need some rest,” replied Pondilaki.

“Let us go then,” said Nikos and got up from his chair. Manoli Strezovski got up next, followed by all the dock workers who drained their glasses and followed them. They all stepped outside and disappeared in the dark. They went home.

VI

Urania Papaioannou got out of bed earlier than usual the next morning. She put on her prettiest dress and headed for the police station. Twenty minutes later she was in front of it. She went inside. All the officers who were in the office stood up and looked at her and kept looking at her as if they had fallen under her spell. She was a beautiful woman.

“Good day gentlemen,” she said in a timid tone of voice. She then nodded benevolently at a middle-aged, balding man who wore thick glasses hanging halfway down his thick nose, and went in front of his desk and sat down.

“Please, I am at your disposal,” said the little man and showed his white teeth. He was very happy to have this beauty in his presence, who had chosen him over all the others in the office.

“I am looking for Mr. Pampas,” she said in a sweet tone of voice.

The man pushed his thick glasses up over his nose, paused for a moment, sighed deeply and said:

“Mr. Pampas will be absent for several business days. Perhaps I can help you.”

Urania powdered her face and added some blush. She hesitated whether to try her luck with this man or wait. She smiled gently and said: “Thank you, sir,” and left the office.

She returned to the boarding house and went inside. She found Foti standing at the counter.

“Please take me to my room,” she asked him.

2. Foti Steriov took her by the hand and helped her climb up the stairs. They passed through the narrow corridor and entered the room. Foti put her down on the wide iron bed and took off her high heeled boots. Them without saying a word he left her there. He then came down to the café and stood behind the counter.

“It is snowing outside. The roofs of the houses are white,” said Foti.

“It should be raining,” replied Stoios Panagopoulos. “Urania will have difficulty extracting her brother from the hands of the police,” he added.

The door of the café flung open and the American walked in, but instead of stopping and greeting them he walked past them and went upstairs into Urania’s room.

“The Americano will help you when the willow tree grows grapes,” said Stoios and laughed out loud.

“Don’t make fun of other people’s misfortunes. The poor woman is suffering,” interjected Foti and sat at one of the tables beside the window.

“Why are you avoiding me?!” asked Stoios.

“I am not avoiding you Stoios, I just want to be alone for a while,” said Foti.

Stoios Panagopoulos smiled and entered the kitchen. Then a pregnant woman appeared at the door of the boarding house. She was wrapped in a black shawl and brown scarf, embroidered with dark brown laces. She looked concerned. She sat at one of the tables in the new part of the boarding house.

Foti Steriov decided to approach her. He got out of his chair and went near her. The young woman looked up at him and showed her gentle face.

“Are you Foti Steriov?” she asked.

Confused, Foti Steriov remained silent. The young woman looked at him again and said:

“My name is Maria Stavridis. Your restaurant reminded me of the soul of my husband, Kosta Papadinovski. Do you know him?” asked the young woman.

“My name is Foti Steriov and I am glad to meet you. Kosta was my cousin. I am sorry for what happened…” replied Foti.

“I knew it was you Foti,” Maria said and smiled. “Please sit down,” she invited Foti to sit beside her.

“Thank you for the invitation. I want to ask you, are you hungry or maybe thirsty? Can I offer you something?” asked Foti.

“No thank you. I just came here to sit for a while, just for a moment, to relieve the loneliness of my sleepless nights, waiting for Kosta to come back,” she said with a smile on her face, humbly shaking her head in gratitude.

Even though Foti Steriov had acute hearing, in his excitement he did not understand what Maria was trying to tell him. He sat down beside her and, as if he was drawn by a magical force, he tightened his lips and remained silent. Maria looked out at the street through the window.

3. Pondilaki entered the boarding house, accompanied by three dock workers. They sat in the old side of the boarding house. Pondilaki saw Foti sitting at the table in the new part of the boarding house. He wondered why Foti did not come over to greet them and offer them drinks.

“Perhaps because a woman was sitting with him…” thought Pondilaki.

Stoios Panagopoulos brought them their drinks.

“Hello, Pondilaki,” said Stoios putting the shot glasses on the table and placing the bottle of rakia on the colourful tablecloth. He then filled the glasses with rakia.

“For the love of people!” said Pondilaki and raised his glass of rakia up high. He then laughed and quietly drank it down. Stoios filled his

glass again. The dock workers laughed loudly, accepting his toast. Stoios smiled gently and went back behind the counter.

4. Pondilaki began to wonder what was being said as he watched Maria Stavridis make gentle motions with her hand as she spoke with Foti. He knew her from somewhere but he could not remember from where. He sifted through his head looking for familiar faces, but never managed to find Maria’s. He kept looking at her in hopes that he would remember something.

“Is there something troubling you?” asked Manoli Strezovski.

“The woman sitting with Foti,” replied Pondilaki.

“Oh, her. She is old man Stavridis’s daughter. You know, the Jew, who during the war we hid in his apartment. You remember him? We sealed his apartment with wax,” replied Manoli.

Pondilaki did not answer. He laughed and turned towards Maria and watched her. He was wondering why she was not with them. He looked at Foti, gesturing to him to come over but he too ignored him.

“They are ignoring me as if I had disappeared from the face of the earth!” he said to himself and smiled indignantly. He turned away and grabbed his glass. He drank his rakia and sighed deeply.

5. A strong figure of a man no more than 45 years old, entered the café and immediately after he sat down by the window, banged on the table with his fist. He had a great big blond moustache. His lower jaw was somewhat protruding forward which made his white face discordant. He looked nervous and kept looking towards the counter. He showed his healthy white teeth, smiling at the gypsies looking at him. The man then took off his fur hat showing his lush blond hair, looking like a ripe wheat field in contrast to his white face and covering his challenging gaze that made its way out from his transparent blue eyes. He again pounded the table and yelled out in a voice that sounded like it was coming out of a deep cave:

“Gentlemen, today is my birthday. I am treating everyone in the café. Drinks for everyone!” and then looked at the Gypsies and said: “Play! Take away the grief from my tortured Slavic soul. Play!”

The loud noise attracted everyone’s attention. Foti Steriov raised his head and calmly looked in the man’s direction. Stoios Panagopoulos came out of the kitchen to see who was pounding so hard on the table. Pondilaki smiled from time to time. The four English officers entered the café and sat three tables away from Pondilaki.

“Drinks for everyone! Today Mr. Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin, Chief of the famous Cossacks of Don, a man from the great Ukraine, is paying... Give out the drinks!” he yelled at Stoios Panagopoulos standing behind the counter and then laughed out loud, sounding like thunder coming out of a cave. He again slammed his fist on the table and said:

“Sing and play… What are you afraid of?! You are my children and my children are not afraid of anyone because they are Cossacks!” he ordered the Gypsies.

“What is your name?” bellowed Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin.

“Call me Rahim Burhan…” replied the Gypsy softly and timidly.

“Play for us… Play and don’t stop!” ordered Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin.

6. Esmeralda was Rahim’s older daughter. She picked up the tambourine with her left hand and began to follow the sad rhythm of her father’s small accordion. Standing next to her was her companion Emsal, who was about thirty years old. She had a nice, pure dark brown face. Emsal waited for a few bars to pass before she began to sing, filling the café with her hoarse voice and piercing the ears of all those present.

Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin was melting away in the beautiful music. Soon he bellowed in pain, covered his white face with big hands and then hit the table hard with his fists.

Emsal was startled. She jumped back and began to shake, her knees visibly vibrating. Her song stopped dead in her throat, hiding between her white healthy teeth and her thick juicy lips. Rahim too muted his accordion and the tambourine quietly withdrew its tone. There was silence. Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin cried like a baby. He wiped the tears from his white face, took a few sips of rakia and then raised his head.

“Play Gypsies, play! Sing to me a song about the great Slavic lands! You will stop playing only when I tell you!” he ordered menacingly but in a calm tone of voice. He then ordered another round of drinks for everyone in the café.

Rahim Burhan pulled back the old accordion skins again. Esmeralda joined his rhythm. The sound of the tambourine filled the entire café. Emsal, confused, looked at Rahim. He nodded with his yellowed eyes and she began to sing. Her voice trembled. Her words merged with the quiet melancholy.

“The song will make me cry. The river will kill me. I will go to its bank. After that I may die…” yelled Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin with a sick tone of voice while swinging on his chair, which made his long blond hair shake. He moved his hair out of his eyes to clear his view, then sipped some rakia straight from the bottle and smiled.

“Sing and don’t stop singing! Let the song carry me to the Ukraine and take me to the wide Don! Let Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin’s soul melt away! My soul is great but it is also ill and is dying…” he said.

Rahim felt a shiver overcome his body. He came close to Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin, who at the time was finishing the last drops of rakia from the bottle he was holding, and played his accordion hard for him.

“Bring me another bottle of rakia! More rakia for everyone. Fill their glasses full…” Alexei yelled at Stoios.

Stoios Panagopoulos brought him another bottle. He opened it and filled Alexei’s glass.

“I am always at your service,” said Stoios.

“Now go and fill everyone’s glasses!” commanded Alexei.

“At your command, Sir!” replied Stoios returning to the counter, grabbed another bottle and began to fill everyone’s glasses with the white translucent liquid.

7. Rahim suddenly stopped playing his accordion. There was silence in the café. Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin rose to his feet and almost fell to the floor, unable to control his own great big body.

“Play, I tell you, play!” he yelled at Rahim.

Rahim, with his ruffled hair which had a lock sticking out, looked at him.

“Play, damn it!” echoed Alexei again with his deep voice.

Rahim did not budge.

“Who will pay for all these songs, Sir?” asked Rahim with a strange expression on his dark brown face.

Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin’s white face twitched, his eyes gleamed with sparks as he savagely looked into the eyes of the Gypsy.

“I am paying for everything…” Alexei shouted nervously. “Now play!” he yelled out loud.

“We have been playing and singing for four hours. We are tired and hungry. We have traveled all over the Balkans. We are hungry...” replied Rahim.

“I am paying for everything!” repeated Alexei.

“Then pay us now, Sir!” replied Rahim timidly.

Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin did not know what to say and blushed. He then raised his voice and yelled:

“Play, you ugly man! There are always people who sing to people who pay. Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin always pays,” he yelled out so loud that everyone in the café could hear. He then stood up with his enormous body standing straight, pulled out a large hunting knife and showed it to Rahim, threatening to slit his throat. He then slammed him into the table and said:

“If you stop singing I will kill you three like chickens,” and stared into their faces. “No one has insulted Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin’s dignity and remained unpunished!” he added and waved his knife giving Rahim the sign to start playing.

Rahim cursed in his own Gypsy language. He could not get away from Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin. He looked at the sharp blade with fearful eyes while Alexei placed it on top of the colourful tablecloth. Rahim took hold of his old accordion and began to play a song, which brought tears to his eyes that flowed down on his dark brown face. He looked down to the dirty floor and began to cry. He played while he lamented quietly.

Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin was drunk. Rahim smiled but did not expect any help from the customers in the café because they never helped the Gypsies because, according to the Gypsies, they were all evil. Rahim thought for a moment and, in his tiny head covered with a black dusty hat from under which protruded a lock of hair, he thought he would show off his baritone voice by singing a song himself. Unfortunately his Ukrainian sponsor was not conscious enough to hear the song.

Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin was drinking rakia from his third bottle and was stone drunk when he fell off his chair. People from a nearby table helped him up but even though Alexei was able to sit on the chair he could not hold his head up. His head fell on the table near his big knife.

Rahim Burhan kept on playing, stretching the old skin accordion back and forth massaging the tortured soul of his sponsor. He even wept over his misfortune.

“Only the song is my terrestrial friend. Through it I can earn a piece of bread, feed my soul and stay alive. Nobody wants to be my friend. A man is another man’s brother and not his slave. And if these people were decent they would not allow this man to turn me into a slave,” thought Rahim convinced that Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin was not able to harm him. And while playing and singing, Rahim was followed by his older daughter Esmeralda and her companion Emsal out of the café.

8. The atmosphere in the café finally returned to normal. Urania Papaioannou appeared at the door. She was furious. All eyes in the café turned to her. She walked past the tables nervously and climbed upstairs into her room.

“She did not find Pampas. The man from the police station only wants her body…” muttered Stoios and leaned with his elbows on the counter. He smiled and looked at Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin who laid his great big head on the table, drooling on the colourful tablecloth while snoring loudly.

Pondilaki felt tired. He did not get his usual nap. He closed his eyelids and fell asleep on the table. Manoli Strezovski wanted to wake him up but changed his mind and let him sleep.

There was complete silence in the café. The day had almost passed. The low light was the signal for the naked girls to get off the stage. Pondilaki was dozing away. The café was empty. All that was left inside were the dock workers with Pondilaki and Alexei Ivanovich Starovkin snoring away.

Foti Steriov collected the empty glasses and bottles from the table and returned to the counter.

“Get ready for new customers…” said Sofia Geleva who climbed up the stairs, went into her room and went to bed.

“It was a busy day,” she thought to herself and fell asleep.

VII

1. Pondilaki, ashamed of belonging to the people, who in their lives were forced to endure the trash in their own apartments, angrily left his house and headed for Evangelia Gasparova’s house. He changed direction after passing the three stores at Vortik Nikianos and departed for the old road where he spent two hours with Done Bindov in his building. After leaving Done, he took several gold coins from him and twenty minutes later arrived at Evangelia Gasparova’s place. They sat on the iron bed. Evangelia was silent. Pondilaki was daydreaming.

“I have pain in the stomach,” complained Evangelia.

“I will bring a doctor over to examine you and give you some medication,” said Pondilaki and sighed.

“Don’t worry about me, please help Stavre! Please do whatever you can to free him from prison. I fear that I will give birth to my child without a man to take care of us. Come up with a plan and free him!” she said.

“Slow down Evangelia. I will take him out of prison but first we have to take care of your health. Leave Stavre to me!” replied Pondilaki.

“Time is flying, I have no patience, I am afraid. About a month ago I sent a letter to the President of the Government, asking him to help me. I wrote the letter with chosen words. I expected him to understand my situation and offer assistance. I was hoping that he would accept my humility. Every day I waited for the mailman but the President of the government did not even reply. One by one the days are passing by and nothing is being done... Please Pondilaki, do something. Please Pondilaki bring back my unmarried man. Help

my child to be born with a man in the house... Every night I cry over our common destiny. The baby kicks me in the stomach. I often mourn our future. I constantly feel dizzy... Lord, what do I do? What have I done that is so wrong?” said Evangelia.

“Mr. Papandreou will not help you. Please don’t be misled! He is no longer prime minister. On his arrival to Greece, while flying in the plane, he told the world that there are no Macedonians in Greece. But pay no attention to him and look after your own health! Please do whatever you can to give birth to a healthy child. I will find a way to extract Stavre from prison soon, believe me!” Pondilaki reassured Evangelia, knowing full well that everything was in vain.

“Please hurry, Pondilaki! My good health will never return. I am suffering immensely. Sometimes I think of committing suicide... If I only had the guts to do it! Nobody cares about me,” replied Evangelia.

“Here are a few gold coins. Use them wisely... But now forgive me I have to go. I am expected elsewhere…” said Pondilaki and handed her the gold coins.

Evangelia Gasparova took the coins and put then on her shelf. She then began to cry. Her tears rolled down past her smooth dark face and fell on the floor. She shook Pondilaki’s extended hand and said:

“Goodbye, Pondilaki. And thank you for your help!”

“Goodbye, Evangelia! Don’t worry! I will get Stavre out,” replied Pondilaki letting go of her hand, walked out of her apartment, down the stairs and outside.

2. On the street he was met by a large moving crowd loudly demanding justice. Any other day Pondilaki would have joined such a demonstration but not today. He stood aside until everyone passed him by and then took to Ignatia Street all alone. He roamed the city for a long time. When he got tired he went inside Café “Macedonia”. Manoli Strezovski and two dock workers sat at the

table they considered theirs. Pondilaki joined them and ordered some rakia.

“You are welcome, Pondilaki,” said Stoios Panagopoulos after he placed the shot glass on the table.

Pondilaki smiled, lifted the glass, took a sip of the liquid and put it back down.

“You have a guest. He wants to see you. But, as a personal favour to me, please help him,” said Stoios.

“Send him over,” replied Pondilaki and picked up his shot glass.

Satisfied, Stoios Panagopoulos returned back behind the counter. He put the shot glasses he had collected from the tables into the sink and went inside the kitchen. A few seconds later he was accompanied by a man not older than thirty. He had a medium build and looked very tired. They walked towards Pondilaki’s table.

“Sit,” Pondilaki said to the man. “You are among friends here,” and pointed to the chair beside him.

“His name is Stoian Dzhavalekov,” said Stoios. “He is one of us (Macedonian)...” he added, smiled widely and placed a shot of rakia in front of Stoian Dzhavalekov.

“Have a drink, you are with friends… Don’t worry,” said Stoios and then went back behind the counter.

Stoian Dzhavalekov swallowed the rakia and put down the shot glass. Pondilaki looked him straight in the eyes and said:

“You look like you have not slept for a long time.”

“A few days... I don’t have a place to stay and I have no money... so I am left out on the streets…” replied Stoian.

“Where are you from Stoian Dzhavalekov?” asked Pondilaki.

“I am from Skopje,” he replied.

Pondilaki thought about it for a moment, took another sip of rakia, nervously rotated his shot glass several times and looked at Stoian. In the meantime Manoli Strezovski banged on the table with his hand and said:

“Don’t scare me like that man. Are you really from Skopje?”

Stoian Dzhavalekov lowered his head, sighed deeply and said:

“Yes, I really am from Skopje. Is there something strange about that? Does it bother you that I am from Skopje?”

“Strange things have happened. People in Solun have talked about events taking place in Skopje which confuse Manoli…” explained Pondilaki in a low tone of voice.

Stoian Dzhavalekov became upset and his face turned red.

“I don’t know why there would be confusion about that?” replied Stoian with a bit of anger in his voice.

“In Solun they say that the Macedonians from the upper reaches of the great river have rebelled and want to move onwards. They want to conquer Solun. Strange things are happening…” explained Pondilaki.

“It is true, there was a rebellion in Skopje and many people were mistreated...” replied Stoian.

“Were you... Were you part of that confusion?” asked Manoli Strezovski with much interest and coughed. He then took a few sips of rakia and looked directly into Stoian’s eyes.

Stoian Dzhavalekov remained silent.

“Why are you silent? Is there something wrong?” asked Pondilaki.

“I am fine, just a little nervous... Well, if you want to know then I will tell you. I will tell you exactly what happened in Skopje…” Stoian said and exhaled.

“So, you were part of the confusion then…?” asked Manoli surprised.

“Yes I was but I fled. I was afraid they were going to shoot me. Now I am a deserter. One should have a sense of measure when they want to start something. But that was not for me. Perhaps I am wrong. Who knows?! Time will tell whether I made the right choice or not. Time is a real barometer of historical truth…” replied Stoian.

“Why would they want to shoot you? Many here in Solun rejoice at the idea of a united people... Did we not fight against the German army together?” asked Manoli Strezovski.

“I too fought… I fought for three years. I fought against the Germans, against the Bulgarian occupation and against the occupying armies and police. And not only against them, but I also fought against the Albanian fascists... I truly fought hard. But all that now counts for nothing. Now I am without a fatherland and completely alone. I feel terrible and I am miserable. How is that for confusion?” replied Stoian.

“How did you end up in the confusion? And don’t worry; you are among your own people (Macedonians) here.” Manoli Strezovski assured Stoian.

“It all happened very quickly. I was stationed with my unit in Kochani. There were rumours being spread that we were going to liberate Solun. There was great excitement during the day and we all went to sleep in the evening. A lot of shooting and machine gun fire woke us up around midnight. I opened my eyes and I could not believe what was happening. We were surrounded by our own soldiers. There was nowhere to go. We were captured and taken to Skopje. They imprisoned us in the large barracks. There were many of us there. The trials began. I could not sleep at night and shook like a leaf all day long from anxiety. Often I walked along the wire fence that kept us in and one day I decided to escape. I took shelter

in some bushes and in the dark of night I fled over the wire. I was afraid to stay in the city and decided to flee across the border. I followed the flow of the great river and crossed the border at Bogoroditsa. I met up with two acquaintances from Kostur and had dinner with them. They went to Kostur and I headed this way. I did not know the way so I followed along the river. Everywhere I went I ran into English soldiers who were ready to kill anything that went down in the lower reaches of the great river. I was very careful and finally reached the first houses in Solun. I started having problems with my heart. It refused to slow down and was causing me more anxiety. I did not know anyone in the city and I had no one to turn to. I wanted to go back but first I decided to take some rest in hopes of slowing down my heart. I sat next to the Sveta Katerina church and thought about it. I was hungry and tired. Then Stoios Panagopoulos found me and helped me snap out of my predicament. It relieved my anxiety. He also gave me food to eat which also relieved my hunger...” said Stoian and stopped talking. He then took another sip of rakia and moistened his lips with his tongue.

Manoli took advantage of the pause and rather indignantly said: “So you failed!”

“We had no chance of success. We were foolish even to attempt it…” replied Stoian and sighed deeply.

“All is well when it ends without bloodshed. Fratricidal wars are the worst. It’s a slaughterhouse. Perhaps it is better that you failed…” concluded Pondilaki and got up from his chair. “Let’s go Stoian, you need to rest. I will take you home to my house,” he added and they left the café while being watched by Manoli Strezovski and Stoios Panagopoulos who smiled contentedly.