Noose – Chapter 3

Noose – Chapter 3

Mass mobilizations de-Macedonian-ized the Macedonian home and eventually pushed the Macedonian people into the jaws of doom.

After changes were made to NOF (National Liberation Front) and AFZH’s (Women’s Anti-Fascist Front) program goals and these organizations took to the underground, their political aims became unclear. Some Macedonians continued to view them as Macedonian National Organizations but after the CPY/CPM (Communist Party of Yugoslavia/Communist Party of Macedonia) pushed them under the CPG (Communist Party of Greece) umbrella, people began to desert them. Unfortunately, NOF and AFZH continued to function submissively and obediently, intensifying the mobilization, now with unprecedented emotional contagion and servility to the CPG, calling on all Macedonians to take the road of life and death and sacrifice themselves alongside the Greek people to save themselves from physical extinction.

1.

When we arrived at the “Εµπεδα” Headquarters, the military centre for training, an officer from Headquarters was waiting for us. Then a small ensemble of people got together with the music group “Karatimiost” and sang songs for us. They were happy melodies full of fighter and revolutionary spirit, powerful enough to quiver invisible strings in the heart of a young person. We listened to the lyrics and we all felt delighted. All the headquarters officers, standing on a makeshift stage, were also singing along. Then, just as we were admiring the music, the band unexpectedly began to play “Eleno Mome” (Eleno Girl), an old admired Partisan song. Suddenly all 350 of us newly recruited young men, lined ourselves in a line dance and danced like crazy. We danced for the entire length of the song while being applauded by the clapping of hands from the officers on the stage who gave us even more reason to dance. But as we found out we were not unique, this is what they did with all the newly mobilized groups. It was a way, as one older Partisan put it, to “recharge our batteries with fighting spirit.” First to approach us and graciously and warmly shake our hands was Rula. She was dressed in a greenish (khaki) coloured suit. Wearing her suit she felt like she was one of the biggest stars, dressed in white in the spirit of refined elegance, appearing on a podium like Marilyn Monroe, a symbol of Hollywood. Rula, with such androgynous energy, was doing this at all the underground barracks throughout Gramos. She approached us vigorously and gracefully standing upright, her head lifted high. Involuntarily, in my own mind, I saw her as an “older doe” looking for a partner. Everyone asked everyone else: “Did you see Rula?” “She is beautiful isn’t she?” These were comments made by the Partisans from our battalion. Rula adorned herself with a red kerchief around her neck in a fashion that symbolized loyalty and love for ideology and for the Party. She wanted to be the centerpiece; the object of attention and admiration. She lived in the belief that men should be obliged to do everything to gain her favour. If she thought that she had not gotten the attention that she deserved or the love and affection to which she was entitled, she would immediately begin to act like a “victim.” She had probably read somewhere that the colour red was erotic. “She is cunning, playing the victim to arouse the hormones of the older officers,” said Antonis without any malice and continued: “Needless to say wearing those kinds of shoes, socks and a red kerchief say a lot about a person. An elegant woman must not only be beautifully dressed and made up but she must also have good manners. She must be gracious with a gentle smile, have radiating irresistible magnetism and, above all, be attractive.” I said to her: “You are a perfect Partisan. If a woman is a mirror of her purse in Athens, then here in Gramos a woman is a mirror of her revolver, and you are that…” She broke into laughter and gave me a hug while giggling. One time I asked her: “Are you some day going to be a general’s wife?” And she said: “I don’t know. There are no big changes in my love life.” At the same moment Antonis showed up and said: “It is still possible if she can overcome her emotions. She lives an intense and unhappy life with the choices she made.” On the morning of October 10th I was awakened from a deep sleep by the guard who had one leg shorter than the other and a big wart on his great big, fleshy nose. Our long march lasted several days and nights and took us from Prespa to the General Headquarters in Epirus and Antihashia, located in Vovusa locality near Mount Smoliakas; the largest and tallest mountain in the region. We walked on many roads, passed over several mountains and crossed scores of rivers without having a clue as to why we were leaving Macedonia and going deep into Epirus; an unknown place. One person among us knew why they had brought us here in such terrible weather and over such steep terrain, but would not mutter a single word.

Then when we reached camp he raised his arms towards the heavens and muttered words that none of us could understand. He then went and stood upright on the edge of the highest cliff and, as if standing at the altar of God, yelled out “goodbye” and rolled down the steep cliff falling on the sharp rocks below. For days he had been saying that there was nothing to live for away from our homeland, away from our Macedonia. He had written a farewell letter but it was difficult to read covered in coagulated blood. In part the letter read: “… a lie is the most dangerous weapon of political doctrine. It does not include a single ounce of truth or power. On the contrary: the promises made to us by the so-called “reds” and by the revolutionary File Jazhin were lies, lies told to us to speed up our self destruction...”

2.

“Live life today because you don’t know what will happen to you tomorrow,” Rula said and continued: “A person alone is like a lonesome tree at the top of a hill standing alone, being blown by the wind from every direction. The wind may blow on it, bend it and even break it but it will not uproot it. No one has died from loneliness, but everyone knows how much solitude hurts. It seems to me that this is our fate because if people are realistic they would know that no young lady would wish to live in these backward mountains. What kind of life would she have in the mountains and cold damp barracks? I’m not even sure what will happen to us and where life will take us... With whom, how and God knows why would we even want to live.” Poor, beautiful Rula, she was very disappointed opening up her heart and soul to me like that, while shivering in the dry ferns stuck to her clothing. “A tree can be transplanted when it’s a young sapling, but I am no longer a young sapling. I was mobilized by force and now I am a Partisan!... Now there is no night that I don’t look for a way out of the solitude... If it were not for you young and wild boys, where would I find the strength to do all this? Oh my blood brother, this is war and with war comes great fear. Every woman wants her freedom and independence but, from another side, like never before, she also needs a strong man beside her to rely on. Perhaps it’s different with men.” I was puzzled by her openness and thought to myself perhaps these are the new times when a heart can be opened and feelings could be shown. A new revolutionary era when intimate feelings can be shared, perhaps? “I know for myself,” I replied, “and maybe it’s like that for others too, but I want to have a sensitive, loving and passionate woman standing beside me.” Rula, glistening from the October sun, gently smiled and probably continued to live with the conviction that sooner or later she would meet her prince on a white horse. She reached into her backpack, pulled out a loaf of bread, broke it in half, handed me one half and said: “I don’t know why but I think I trust you. If I ever get married I want you to be the best man at my wedding.” I nodded without saying a word. For a moment we sat in silence watching the sun set behind the pine forest and then left for our barracks. There Kolio grabbed me by my hand and I broke a piece of bread and gave it to him. Then I told him who gave it to me. “She is attempting to bribe you with bread so that you can roll her in the ferns a few times, but like the song says, ‘you are too young and you don’t know how,’…” he said and began to laugh.

The fire was well fueled that night and we sang all kinds of songs until dawn. We sang “Malka moma tsveke brala, negde v gora zelena” (Little girl gathering flowers, somewhere on a green mountainside), “Tri godini, le, Kate, tri godini, aide de tri godini, le Kate bolen lezham” (Three years, Kate, three years, oh three years, Kate I am lying sick), “Da ti pukni, mila mamo naimaloto, oi lele lele, mila mamo naimaloto” (May your youngest burst, dear mother, oh oh your youngest dear mother, “Aide moito libe bolno lezhi, bolno lezhi na postela” (My darling lies sick, sick he/she lies in bed), “Angelino mome (a nekoi Rula mome), shto si tolku nazhaleno, dali glava te boli ili polovina” (Angelina girl (some sang Rula girl), why are you so sad, do you have a headache or a backache), “Ne nadevaise mori mome Rule, ias sum star chovek” (Don’t have too much hope Rula girl, I am an old man). The happiest song sang that night was by Kolio who sang “Mama mi pleti shareni chorapi, dali da gi nosam ili da gi pulam…” (mother knit me striped socks, should I wear them or look at them…) which was then taken over by the Greeks but they did not know the words so they only sang the melody.