THE KLECHKAROVSKIS

THE KLECHKAROVSKIS

Mialche Klechkarovski felt satisfaction in his sleepy eyes, on his thick lips, and on his entire round, fleshy face. He now lives in the “Proletarians of the world unite” building No. 26. The rooms in the apartments were choice, facing the sun. Nice.

Mialche Klechkarovski has set his life like never before. This is so that people will not say that there are many people like him.

He is now happy and pleased with himself and the road ahead of him is straight like a bullet... His and his wife’s pensions were enough for them.

“They are enough for us, Ilinka… Right?” he asked his wife.

“Oh, more than enough…” answered Ilinka. “It is not money from sweat and blood...” she added.

“Well, I could gulp down a national one too…just like the Voriasovski’s…but they wronged me…” said Mialche.

“I wrote down everything for them, for those blind idiots. All they had to do was confirm it. Who was going to challenge their word… except for the evil-doers…” he added.

“Mr Klechkarovski you said that beautiful carpets were laid in the white rooms and a picture of a nobleman hung in the corner? Why was that picture hung there?” he was asked. But only Mialche knew why that picture hung there.

The people were at Mialche’s place. Some were amazed at the number of books he had stacked all over the furniture. You can say that almost all of them were Marxist literature.

Almost all the books were loaded with dust. Many were in foreign languages, with one here and there in our language.

The foreign language ones Mialche Klechkarovski had brought from there. He used to say: “Whether you want them or not, brother, the Secretary would push them on you…”

“Mialche, Mialche, as if you opened them even one time…” his wife slipped up and said in front of the guests.

He looked at her sternly while thinking of what to say. He wanted to say:

“People, where do I find the time to read them? I dedicated my entire life to being an activist. If one is devoted to reading, one will lose his connections and everything will be gone. And you can’t find the reasons why. Then do you think anyone will care to ask who Mialche Klechkarovski is…?”

But then he said: “No...” admitting that he had never opened them.

“That’s right! You are right about that Mialche…” disabled Nadezhdin Kostolomov wanted to say angrily... But instead, he said:

“People, the true fighters, after the revolution, ended up becoming engineers, professors and other things… and now they are looking for statements from me. They don’t know anyone; you can see that, they waited a few years for an apartment, for work... And I, here I am, on top of the world!”

Nadezhdin Kostolomov paused for a moment and then said: “Well, that is one thing… but it is another thing to be known as an activist of those times... or for them to run you around the archives as an official…”

“One time Nadezhdin,” replied Mialche, “I insisted that they give me my Party pension retroactively. But the official said to me: ‘Don’t bother me with principles; let it be what it wants to be, Comrade Klechkarovski! It is not modest…

When I saw that the man was getting a bit abrasive I changed my tactics. I said: ‘You are still a young man and look at you; you are

already in a senior position. You must be of a noble person, and so sharp?’…

He immediately laughed and I got him! This is how, Nadezhdin, I found the man’s soft spot...” concluded Mialche. “You are truly a capable man, Mialche. The commission for disability asked me: ‘Okay Nadezhdin, what is your complaint…?’ I just stood up like a corpse and told them: ‘Look at me, I am all broken up, my arm is paralyzed and one of my legs is shorter...

The doctor laughed, then took the form and wrote down ‘one hundred percent disabled’. He then told me go the office for social programs and there they would give me material assistance. Even though everything about me was visible, Mialche, no one to this day has ever asked me who I am and where I am from? No one has asked me if I am in pain or not? Did we not fight for justice? For the rights if our people. It is nice for everyone to live in this collective but the suffering and dying still remains individual work...”

“You, Nadezhdin, as a fighter who is disabled, you should be getting a slightly better pension. I know that what you are getting is not enough… It’s just enough for your bread...” said Mialche.

“That’s how much the disability pension is, Mialche… Don’t look at your pension… yours is from the People’s pension. You say ‘as a fighter’, but whose fighter…? They don’t recognize my contribution, Mialche…”

“Well… Nadezhdin… I am sad to see you like this. We have played chess together for many years. I can testify for you that you served in the people’s government! I will confirm that you were a secretary, okay?” said Mialche.

“Well, as I remember, one time somebody appeared claiming to be a secretary and did receive a pension…” said Nadezhdin with some skepticism.

“Well, I can tell you he was not from my village…” replied Mialche laughingly and then asked:

“And what were you, Nadezhdin…?”

“Well, Mialche, I was a fighter just like you, from the Kostolomov family... But I was never a part of the People’s government. I cannot lie. As you can see, there are many people like me out there. But you at least, you have been a part of the National government and, as you know, it is not good to lie. We fought for justice... remember?” replied Nadezhdin.

“Yes, yes, you are right Nadezhdin. I just... I just said that hastily… as a joke. We are fighters, Nadezhdin… you know how many sacrifices we made for this justice...” said Mialche and again began to talk about the “activities” he was involved in:

“Over there where we were, Nadezhdin, it was fine for them! Everyone knew me as Mialche Klechkarovski the hawk. There were also many Voriasovs there. Everyone thought that I was one of them, one of those old commissars. I wore a leather jacket, looking like one of those Russians, and all the while I wore a leather hat. Even the dogs were afraid of me, let alone people... And every one of them, Nadezhdin, greeted me with the words ‘Comrade Klechkarovski’. One does not need to carry on too much in situations like that. Dress well my brother… just like those old officials who led the people’s government and they will embrace you… After that you can carry yourself in whatever way your heart desires! Just like now...” said Mialche.

Mialche Klechkarovski, the hawk, went on and on talking, telling stories about his experiences until Nadezhdin had had enough and decided to interrupt him:

“Well, that’s what you call the experience of an old activist! For sure you must have had an uneasy past, Comrade Mialche?” said Nadezhdin and moved a chess piece.

“Oh, don’t get me started on that, Nadezhdin, because I get restless when I think about those times... about the past… Check! Nadezhdin!” said Mialche.

“That was good Comrade Mialche… you gave it your all… and you got what you deserved... It’s good when a man adjusts his life to support his purpose... Well, that was your true reward. I still remember those brave fighters... You watch them jump into the fire and die with pride yelling: ‘I will die so that my comrades and my children will live free…” They were the real people of the revolution... The people say that the great ones received their honour from their sacrifices,” said Nadezhdin.

“Yes, Nadezhdin, there are people who are braver facing death than facing life...” replied Mialche.

“I know one of those people who truly gave everything. He was my commander… He was one of the first... But now when he went to apply for his veteran’s pension the official said to him: ‘Dear Comrade Zasenkovski the brigade then numbered 300 and now a brigade numbers 3,000...

The man got very upset and left. But before he did he scolded the official, swore at him and told him he would appeal to every official in the ministry until his case was reviewed…

Zasenkovski also told him that there were many who were cheating the system, Mialche, and the official said ‘tell me who they are Comrade Zasenkovski’ and we will deal with them in accordance with the law… It’s your move,” said Nadezhdin.

“Well? Yes, that’s the kind of people we are… we poke our own eyes out… Nadezhdin...” replied Mialche.

“But he is not against the fighters… he is against those who...” said Nadezhdin and paused.

“You should also know him… he is an old official. That Comrade Zasenkovski…” added Nadezhdin.

“Zasenkovski?” yelled Mialche and stood there stunned, looking like an ominous black cloud had fallen on him. The thought that he might have been guilty and unfair to this man, in all this, may have crossed his mind. He shuddered. He thought of going through his

files and “memoirs” which he had written as his basis for obtaining his status as a fighter... He was stunned… he took soft steps as if he was full of fear... He felt pain deep down, like opening old wounds… just when things were going so well for him and his life was finally in order…

“Checkmate! Comrade Mialche!” declared Nadezhdin.

“Yes, it’s true… checkmate…” agreed those who were watching the game. “Great checkmate, Nadezhdin…” voices were heard saying.

“Checkmate? asked Mialche while he thought “You will be very sorry if you start looking through your archives…” cut through him like a sabre.

When he remembered things from his past Mialche Klechkarovski began to wither. He shuddered... uncontrollable memories from his past began to flood his mind.

“Mialche, you look like you’ve started to wither…” said his wife.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” she asked.

Mialche Klechkarovski the hawk had long forgotten about those times… his past had gone… the blood that dripped had stopped... he only had a minor pain… Those were unhealthy days.

Mialche never went to the front line to fight for freedom. “Good for Mialche Klechkarovski the hawk, he made a good move and saved himself. He was in good terms with all those responsible and with the activists of the People’s Government...” people were saying.

One time, who knows why, Mialche found himself at a rally and became an activist, but still in fear until things cleared up. Then one day, during a gathering, he said something useful to the party. He said: “I, comrades have doubts about Riste Dzhukleski. The other day he sold fish to the Greek police for money. He justified that by saying he needed the money to buy something for his kids but I want to challenge his justification here in front of the party, in front of our people’s government, Comrades...”

A few days later Riste Dzhukleski “was eaten by the black”, as the old women used to say. And ever since then the Dzhukleski family was stigmatized and considered “anti-people”. During a gathering of the people’s government there were even requests to declare that family anti-Prespa.

And because of this Mialche, little by little, became very loyal... People did this because of great fanaticism, from the trust they were given to cleanse everything that was anti-popular... And when the time came to evacuate the children from that country, Riste Dzhukleski remained an enemy of the people… his children were left behind as the last children to die in that country.

But what did our Comrade hawk remember? Well if you don’t put your life in order, even at the end, things will come back to haunt you. Maybe things would have been okay but now he needed to know what happened to Zasenkovski… he needed to go to the archives for that. He would not have remembered all the details from those days… except for that short autobiography... But even with that he still regretted that it was not detailed enough… He also regretted that he had not joined the people’s government earlier… life would have been so much better now... But Mialche in those days was a working man, a plowman and a fisherman just like Riste… just like every man in Prespa. But he made a good move. All the deserters did the same… made good moves. No matter what the people say, Mialche and all the deserters improved their lives. Mialche got what he wanted for himself and for his wife.

“Will all the fighters get veteran’s pensions…” someone asked.

Mialche said: “Come on you people? What do you want me to tell you? You just don’t know how to ask for it… I am telling you this from experience. A person needs to be smart about how he goes about it. A person does not need to be educated or to know a lot. Look at the officials responsible for housing and those in the social system… how they look you in the eye… Cope with it… people!”