Stojanovic-Lafazanovska

Stojanovic-Lafazanovska - ‘ , THE TEACHER saga/Howe .—...

Info iconThis preview shows pages 1–24. Sign up to view the full content.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
Background image of page 1

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 2
Background image of page 3

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 4
Background image of page 5

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 6
Background image of page 7

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 8
Background image of page 9

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 10
Background image of page 11

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 12
Background image of page 13

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 14
Background image of page 15

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 16
Background image of page 17

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 18
Background image of page 19

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 20
Background image of page 21

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 22
Background image of page 23

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 24
This is the end of the preview. Sign up to access the rest of the document.

Unformatted text preview: ‘ , THE TEACHER saga/Howe .— [449% ac: n6V9 ha, I 4 U 0» MTH A GREAT ,, HEART Mita Snmava Nastevska mp? arm/fo Lack act VH7an kt W18 Exam/LS mf M . ' a&a€Wa/M :% may...” m...~.—.-a—.u~mn—o«~-————MKM ..__ ,...... IMWQMW § SMfieo A _gwmmvw.M—~-~mqw—~~wuvw“FM...— ( WW]: WW} QXOXLQS, W¢n~lwumww Skew: «2 mo “Ba/01mm" 31544 +90%! 2002, WWW,” Mint Rmnom Nastevska (Sknpév, [mm 201)) J. f r x xi? z Mira Snmovn NMth ,Ihininformant is also from the region ofl‘lostur, the village of'V’rnhel, and her life-also is entwined with terrible troubles and experiences. During the Second World Warfisfii: helps the partisans. and, being a nmnber of the Youth Organisation. to» getltérwijth the other women from the village, she takes part in giving the necesm salty height the partisans on the from line: they knit socks, spin wool, bake bread, nndvdigttibute these items unselfisth to wherever the partisans were, Following the-Sééome-orld War, the Civil War takes place and the incident inevitably arson datedtgvith it, the terrifying exodus of the children in 1948. At this time, Mita goméva'is chosen from the whole village to he a guardian who will lead and prow— té’ét tfiégihildré‘n to the so—called "democratic countries". Her destination, via SFRY, is Cgiichoslqyakia, a country where she Works several years as a teacher and lec~ tutor in Macedonian, as well as Greek. Having taught generations of "children- refugeesif, shegets employed in “Peralna” (“Lnunderette”), then she marries, has .childrert, and her life goes on. After several years, her family decides to move to Mhéefiogtia. Thanks to that, we manage to capture yet another life story, the details ofwhich‘, as interesting and horrifying as they are, follow below. ’ Lydia Stoyanovich Lafazanavska: Tell me your name, please. Mira Somova, now Nastevska is my name, because I‘m married. What year were you born? ln 1924, in V'mbel, the region of Kostur. Were your ancestors from V’mbel as well? Yes, my mother and my father were from the village. How was the life in the village? We were 4 children, two daughters and two sons. My parents were a poor family. My father was a migrant worker, he went abroad to work, to build houses, and my mother ploughed the land at home. We, the children, went to school. We also helped our mother in the field; she was afraid to go alone, so we went with her to keep her company and help her. I was the oldest and she used to take me with her the most. It was 1942. My father said: “We are going to build a house!" ( i ;. d6 .: The Exodus a! the Macedonians Earn Greece Where did he work? Well he worked in Greece. in the villages in Kostur and Lerin Region. In 1942 my father said: “Now, we‘re going to make a house”. We lived in a small house, and as we grew up, we were building the house. We built the ground floor. but not the upper one because we had no money. My father said: “Once we gather money, we will build the upper storey as well.” But, the time of partisanship happened and my father became a partisan. Our mother and we worked in the fields. We would go there and help my mum. What year did your father join the partisans? It was 1943. I had a cousin, my aunt’s son, Kocho, who went to Titans. to learn a craft. There, he organised everything for the youth, and then he came in our village and organised us. So, we, the young. gathered in the houses. he coordinated and told us what to do and how to do it. So it happened that the partisans went into the mountains and we took them bread. There were soldiers on the filake.” What does ‘filake” mean? Well, there were Greek soldiers, and they called it “make”, l don’t know how you call it in Macedonian. We were wary of them; they were from Crete, but they were good people. They were watching us but pretended not to see us. So we went into to the mountains, we gave stuff to the partisans, whatever. Finally, 1948 came and we ran away with the children. Each of the elder girls like me was given orders from the partisans to take 15-20 children and take them to the more democratic coun— tries because there was bombing. We wore supposed to protect the children there. So they gathered us, we were eight; myself, Burn, Viktorija, (Jana, Ana. Leftera. Sofa and Tina. Were all these wamcnfiom your village? Yes, we were all from V’mbcl. What year was it when you were chosen? It was 1948. They chose us so we set off with the children on 3.03.1948. Together with the children, they brought us in the village onclovo. where the partisans met us and transferred us via Prespa. There we waited for the sunset. It got dark, we crossed the border and wont to Dupeni. The village of Dupeni was right on the “ “Filake” means a blockhause. Mint Samara lecvskn border. it was really difficult because of the thick darkness and we didn't know the way. it was such a torment; the children were crying, they wanted their mums. they wanted food. They didn't know where we were going. They were only three or four years old. Soldiers from Yugoslavia came to got us; they heard noise. They asked: “What do you want?” We said: “we’re fleeing from the war. We want to save ourselves.” So they gave us refuge. We slept in the village, on the ground; this way or that way. the children went to sleep. When they woke up in the morning they wanted to eat. Somebody put a cauldron; they made food and gave us to eat. Very well, what was the namr of this place? Dupeni, in‘Yugosluvio. We stayed there for a day and a night. Then. trucks came and took us to Ljubeno. There, we were placed in a school and kept for 2-3 days. Then, orders came. trucks came, they put the children in the trucks. As we were lined from our village, they placed the women with the children and they left the three of us, who were responsible. behind. They could take only a thousand chi!” dren so they said: “Stop! There are no more trucks. You’ll go when the trucks come!" They didn’t tell us they could take only a thousand children. They transported the children to Romania and the three of us that were responsible: me, Tom and Sofa, we were left there. So, we stayed for two days, then we were taken by truck to Brailovo and kept for almost 14 days until other children from Greece arrived and another round was organised. From the trucks they got us on a train and we came to Skopje. Some villagers we knew met us there. W i: told them: “We are looking for our children and those in charge for them." “They’re gone, you can’t see each other!" And there we were, we didn’t know when: they were taking us. We travelled and travelled and finally arrived in Czechoslovakia. in Nikolov. There was a big camp with wires and barracks. There were a thousand children. We from our village were there, from Prcspn and from Kosincc. So, we were a thousand children. We stayed there almost the whole summer period, two and a half months. While in Nikovo, there was one Greek. His name was Forums. Every week he gathered us, the responsible for the children, android us we were Greeks and other stuff. He said: “Some officials are coming, so we have to speak Greek and sing Greek songs because we are from Greece”. He also said: “The letters you write for your parents must be written in Greek because they have to be censored!" Who was supposed to censor rho letters? Fortwm? 67 .......it..-.. g“ 3 63 The Exodus of tho andonitms [ram Greece 1- Miter Smuovd Nastmlm 6‘ Yes, the Greek told us so. One day he told how it was going to be. As for us, we listened to the radio what Greece said about the war, people were dying there, our people. We were fighting for this language, and here he was telling us not to speak Macedonian. One day, when he gathered us in his office, I told him: “Listen to me comrade, we have sisters, brothers, fathers left there, they fight for this language. How come you tell us not to speak nor write Macedonian!” Then, thank God, all my friendsjumped and supported me: “Our comrade speaks the truth.” _ they told him. Many of our children were also in Voivodina. We said: “We want our children to study Macedonian apart from Greek!” 80, they brought three teachers with Macedonian books from Voivodina and let live Greek teachers go. Then, they divided as and sent us to the homes. We were sent in a homc,i can‘t remember its name, it was a children’s home, Macedonian and Greeks only. There were 150—200 children. We stayed there for a month; it was the summer of 1943, in August. What was the name of this place? I don’t know. it was near the Polish border but i forgot the name, I don’t know. We stayed there and one day Koltali came, the responsible for the Greeks. They came to son when: and how the children in the homes lived. Kokali came with one Macedonian, Donka was her name. She was from D'tnbeni. There were two or three other Greeks but I don‘t know their names. They visited the homes in order to set: how the children lived. They said they would organise a course in Romania and instructed us, the supervisors, to go to Romania and attend this course, listen to the lectures and then come back here and teach the same things to the children. Then they choso Inc and l went. There were 50-60 people from Czechoslovakia, Macedonians and Greeks. How did the children call you? Teacher. How marry children did you take care of? 15 children, both during the trip and there. Can you tell me something about the course in Romania? We attended the course for a month. From mid August to mid September, because when l returned the schools were opened. There, we stayed in Tulgjosh, and thoy taught us Greek so that we could teach the children. ‘ihen. we came back to Czecho~ slovnkia. While 1 was in Romania, they gathered all children: those 12 and up were: sent to school to learn crafts, those 7-12 were at school. The others. front 3"? years old, were in kindergarten. So, when I came back, I didn’t find all ofthe chilw drcn; they had already been separated and l was appointed to teach those at school, between the age of 7 and 12. I never saw again the other teachers. friends of mine. because they were assigned in tho kindergartens. Right. Then. I went to Bttdishov, a town in Czechoslovakia. Near this town. there was another small town, where we stayed for a month. Then we went to Sohotin, where six big houses were built. They divided us in six houses that had been left by the Germans. They called the houses: first, second, third and so we were there. There, we stayed for a long time. I So, you laugh! both Macedonian and Greek to the children? Yes, I taught them Macedonain and Greek. Then they sent us again on a course, this time in Prague. We attended a course there. The grown children were sent to learn a craft. After a while, a small number of children remained, so they didn't need many teachers and l was sent to another small town, Beharzov. It was a school for small children, a kindergarten. What kind ofcoursedid you attend in Prague? We studied Greek and Macedonian there. . Who taught you Macedonian? i don’t know exactly, but Kozinnkov was there and one Greek, 1 don’tknow his name. We didn’t like the Greeks at all, we hated them, but they were appointed so there was nothing we could do but work with them! I had to go to that kindergar— ten. What year? 1950—61. What about the previous two years, did you teach the school children, those who went to school, Macedonian and Greek? Yes, I did. And here they were in kindergarten. I was there from 1950 until l951, when the school was closed. in 1951 they took us in Budishov, but I didn’t spend a long time there, only two months. It is where i met my husband Risto and we got The fixodm of the Macedonian: Eons Greet! married. Then I came to Brno. l placed an application, a request to the Red Cross. and I came to Brno where l was assigned as a teacher for a year to teach a class of Greek children. They were all Greeks. only one child was a Macedonian. Anyway. I got pregnant and had to stay home. I was at home and another teacher was ap~ pointed. After that, I started working in the kitchen, in a restaurant. I worked there for a while and finally Stoynn was born (daughter of this infirmmnt) Was Stojna bum in 1953? *1 § Yes, she was born in 1953. Risto and I got married in 1952. After giving birth to my daughter, 1 got employed in Chistirna’” . It is a place where your laundry is washed. I worked there more than twenty years; we laundered and washed the stains off; if something was not properly ironed. We had to iron it. I worked as a technical sum pervisor. From there, we finally decided to come here in Mocedom'a. What year did you decide to come to Macedonia? We came here in 1977. How did you come? Directly in Skopje? Yes, in Skopje. What was the procedure for your coming to Macedonia, port ofSFRY at that time? We placed an application, it took one year, than we got an approval and come. So, you have lived in 3kapje since 1977. Were you given a flat after your arrival? How did you organise your life? We waited. We stayed in a home in Kisela Veda" for the winter and the summer. In autumn, we were given a house in ‘l‘opaansko polo’2 where we lived. We had neither job nor income; my daughter and l looked after little children. This is how we earned money until I was entitled to Czech pension. So, we took care of chih— dren in order to have some money to make ends meet. Let’s go buck to your childhood and youth years, and then the years after the war. First of all, what kind of education do you have? "‘ A place similar to luundarcttc (trans. note) 3‘ A suburb ofskopjc (trons. note). ’1 Another suburb of Skopje (trans. note) or Mil" .Somowt Nrmcvsim 71 i finished elementary school. What does that mean, 6 grades? Yes. Why didn’tyou continue in high school? Well. the Macedonians were not allowed to attend high school. Only the Greeks went to high school. What did you do afterfinishing elementary school? i stayed at home and helped my mother in the fields. How many houses were there in the village of V ’mbel? I don’t remember, 75 or 90 houses, 1 don’t know. Were you all Macedonians? Was there at least one Greek family? No, there wasn’t. Were there any Vlachs? No. only Macedonians. All right, you weron’t allowed to speak Macedonian outside but you did speak Macedonian at home, didn’tyou? No. when we suffered, then we spoke Macedonian. I remember when l was young, l938ml939, the Greeks prohibited speaking Macedonian, so they used to come under our windows and listen to us. During that period, they opened evening schools so that mothers could attend and study Greek. Was that the period during the dictatorship ofMetaxas? Yes, it was. When that Greek bloke in Czechoslovakia gathered us! told him: “Who do you think you are? Another Metaxa making us learn Greek? So many mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters shed blood for that language and you are making us learn Greek.” I told him that because I knew where my mother went to study. i What year was your mother born? 732 T The Exodus oi the Macedonians from Grace I don't know. Was it perhaps at the beginning ofthe rennuy? Well, my father was born in 1903; my mother was older, so she was probably born in nineteen eighty something... w How long did that school last? Not long. One year. not more. That’s because everybody complained, the moth~ era... Hay, let me tell you another thing. When I was 12, it was the period of the Italian battle, when the Italians arrived and fought the Greeks. We also took refuge then. We went to Chernovishtc. Everyone from the village fled and went to Chernovrishte. When we returned home, after several months, we found the houses empty. Looted. How long did it last? Well, half a year. Did you help the partisans during the war? For instance, what did the women flan: your village do to help them? We knitted socks, span wool and took food to the partisans in the. mountains. we baked pics and bread. We took all that to the mountains because they couldn’t come down and eat. ' You mentioned earlier that a cousin of yours organised the Youth Organisation. That’s right. Koljo Kamburov organised us. He was a partisan and died in the batw tle of the. Vicho. My sister was killed, too. I was sent to Czechoslovakia, while my younger sister remained in Greece. The partisans took her to be a partisan and she died in the battle of the Gramos. The older of my two brothers (he was younger than me) tended sheep in the mountains. His name was Lazo. The partisans also took him with them. Heioined the partisans and fought. When the war was over in 1949, he was taken to the Gramos where the Greeks captured and imprisoned him. He was in prison for four years. fiventually, they let him go and sent him to Crete so he couldn't escape in the sea. He. went to work there and at long last, he got married and remained there. And now he lives there. When was he barn? in 1926. . Mira Samar-rt Nartmkn When and how did you find out when: he was? "iii- To tell you the truth, We Were all scattered. Only after my mother came to Czecho— slovakia and my father followed her from Albania, we managed to get together. My father, my mother and my grandmother. We didn’t know whether my brother was alive. We thought he was killed in the war. We searched and asked, he was nowhere to be found. Anyway, he remembered to send a letter from prison to my cousin in the village ofManjak, Kostur Region. He wrote: "here. send this photo to my mother so that she knows I’m alive". Thus, she sent the letter and the photo to my mother and we learned he was alive. My brother lives there now and we correspond. The Greeks didn‘t let him come, back. After he got married and settled. he submitted his documents and managed to come in (Ezechoslovakia in 1959—450. For the first time he saw mother. father, our brother and sister. He stayed for two months. After several years he visited again, for the second time. Stoyna (daughter of the irtfizrmant): And now my brother lives with my uncle in Crete. Can you go to Crete? Yes. I go therq every year. That’s nine, being able to see yourfrzmily. Listen, we've suffered a great deal but nobody gives a darn about it. Our Macedo- nian people have endured great torments. Too much. .. Macedonia is cursed; such a small piece of land, yet everybody fights to snatch a bit of it. God damn them! May God snatch them! May He from above snatch them! Pestilence upon them! Perdition take them! Our youth is getting killed... Parizovn Bopkava Maria in her home in Priiep (September 200} . “out...” “we 24% Maria Hopkom Purian X Lgo leave their native country not knowing in which direction of the 1; L; ‘ to. Maria Parisova (born 1940) is the very delegate ofsuch expo~ film mangoes the suffering of the exodus at the age of 8. Her confession H to acquire the further specific features regarding her feminine posh given period during and after the exodus. One ofthc typical “viola- "patriarchal structure in the region is the very process of education, a 'v privggige given-to the male members of the family only, while the “female: chil~ drag“; as in our case, had to do the house chores so that the family survives. Our infqhttgntghadm plant and raise tobacco so her brothers can receive education. Lydia St. Lafazanovska: We are! now in Varosh” in the house of Marin Pan'sova.~ Could you tell me where and when ya“ were born, please? 1 was born in the village of’l‘ushim, Aegean Macedonia in 1940. ~ Very well, what is your maiden name? Bopkova Maria. What kind of education do you have? l finished eighth grade elementary school. Where? In Hungary. Could you tell me: your memories about the Civil War? What happened in 1948? Please start from the period when you were a child. n O mosh is a settlement in the town of Wiley. 77 The Exoduso tleatedouimu mm Gram In :948 there Were three of us: two brothers and me. We didn’t have mother, so dad told us to flee. They put us in baskets, one of toy brothers on one and the other on the other side, I walked. My shoes wore off and tore. You see, we had plain shoes, not nice ones. Oh. there were stones and small rocks everywhere, but you had to walk and walk. We walked and walked, and then they took the partisans, they took the children. So we arrived and crossed the border. We arrived in Negotino, at the monastery. There, we were with the partisans. In the morning they would pour us some tea, so you could have some ten; everything; they Would go somewhere in the morning, so would we; they would go to bed, so did we. The partisans would catch lice, so did we, we didn‘t know how it happened, we didn’t wipe or something. So we stayed there for a while, about a mouth or two. They said they would move us from there. So it happened, a freight train came and we got on. There were others on the train, other Greeks, genuine Greeks. Not only Mac— edonians, Greeks as well. We are orthodox Macedonians and they are orthodox Greeks. They Spoke in Greek. We didn‘t know; a child of seven, a child of live... it; Did you speak Macedonian at home? In Macedonian, Aegean dialect. We got on and there were lots of Greek children. They gave us buttered bread, what not, and so we travelled. Did you know where you were heading to? No. we didn’t. We were young. They took us somewhere, Godwknows where. E Was there an older woman to take care of you? There was a woman that looked after us, making sure that the children were on the freight train, and they gave us buttered bread. They would give you something and you’d eat it. When we got off, there were trucks, not like those modern trucks covered with tarpaulins, but plain ones, with plain benches. We sat there and they drove and drove. If somebody wanted to change places, another truck would come closer and we charged and continued travelling. We arrived in Subotica. There, we got off. We had no idea where we were, we knew nothing; we didn’t know why we got off there. r Weren’t you afield? Didn't you cry? Well, We cried, but there was use, no father, no mother. Nobody. We got off there; what cooked chicken, what asphalt roads, beauty! To tell you the truth, back in our village we had nothing, not a needle to sew my clothes. We stayed there, I’m telling you, cooked chicken, salads, everything? But, who could eat all that? We were sick in the guts; I couldn’t eat or sleep. It was the journey, I had never travelled Maria ling knell l’nriznwt 79 before to know how it was, and l was a child too. We ate and ate, we slept over and again they moved us. They placed us on a cargo truck and off we went ~— strnight to liudapcst. My, my, what beauty. lights, beauty beyond imagination. We were simu— ing in amazement. Dresses - adorned all over, peasant dresses but adorned and full of lice. Yes, lice; beat it and lice pop out oi" it. Well, what else to expect when we slept with the partisans, kids. We had lice, they had lice. Then they rubbed us, they powdered us all over, got us dressed, bathed us; my, my -— we were reborn. What beauty, we were reborn. The little girls got dolls, the boys got balls and they played. When they said breakfast or lunch, we couldn‘t understand what the Hungarians were saying, there, in Hungary. We just didn’t understand, they said: aide kushnt gjereket; kushat means eat. but in Russian: kushat means ..., and gjereket: means children. We watch - they line up, as quickly as a flash, we line up. They gave us food; we were only kids of 5, of 6, little kids. There we stayed for one your m it was beautiful. But afler a year, Hungarian mums came -— we had to learn the language. we had to attend school. You can’t speak the language. Where Were you accommodated. in an orphanage? Group of “cltr‘ldren-refugees" given shelter by Hungarian foster mothers. Maria Parizova is in the/Fm row, first from left (Budapest. I 948). 30 like Exodus o! the Macedonian: from Gwen: 672$ ,, x Yes, in an orphanage. You do everything there: you have a bath, eat, everything at regular times. I’m telling you, we stayed there, it was nice. Then flungarian foster mothers came: “You, you come over hotel” As much as they could, they selected and took us to other villages. There they took us to church every Sunday. They are Catholics, you see. They cross themselves with their whole hand, like this. They used to take us all the time. in church every Sunday. And imagine, they only have one or two children. Not more. They don’t have more children. When we were there, we were staying in small houses, not as big as this one — in the suburbs. But we didn’t sleep together, girls were separated from boys. I’m telling you, in a year we could speak Hungarian excellent. We learnt. After a year, we started going to school. In first grade we studied Hungarisn and Greek, in fourth and fifth grade, 1 think, we started studying Russian. And we all went there. :3: Why did you study Greek? Were you treated as Greeks? Well, it depended on who ruled. For example, here in Yugoslavia we learnt Serw binn; there we learnt Greek. You are in Aegean Macedonia, not here. For example, Aegean Macedonia was under Greek rule. As for the Greek kids, ‘cnuse there were many of them. and when we gathered, you know what Greeks are like, and these were Greeks to the bone, and whenever a lesson in Macedonian started, they went out. they didn’t study Macedonian Did you study Greek? Yes, We studied Greek, and they said: “Mark my words! Macedonia doesn't exist, only Greece exists”. But when we arrived in Prilep, it was Macedonia. Only part of Macedonia is there, but Greek commands that you can’t study Macedonian. That was it. l’tn telling you, we attended I, ll ,lll ,lV grade « we could speak Hungarian and Greek perfectly. We become pretty smart, we learnt history, geography. But study we did. These kids today, they dorft study. T eke my daughter, I say to her: “Did you study? “A-ha. i did.” but nothing, nothing, she just stares at me. We studied a lot. This is how we did it: in the morning the school starts at 7.00, a little snack, then school again until 12.00, lunch until 1.00 o’clock, have some lunch, then play until 3.00 o’clock. From 3.00 pun. until 7.00 pm. you have to study the unit for the following day, no fooling around. You do your homework; in Greek agnosis is history. You take out your notebooks for Greek, Macedonian and just do your homework, then read, read, read. We studied three or four hours for the following day. And the next morning, here we go again. That’s why we knew a lot, unlike today; what do they knowil? 1 tell my daughter: “Did you do your homework?" and she actually scribbles some—- Maria Boflkomi’mitom = 81 thing, God—knowswwhat, and just leaves. You can’t study that way, can you? So it was until eighth grade. Some passed, others dunked. One day, somebody from the Red Cross called and told us our {other was looking for us. .. Where Was your father? Here in Prilep. My father fled the same year, a bit later. He and my sister lied here. They too were in Negotino, but from Negoino they went to Sveti Nikola, and from there down here, they stayed in Prilep. My father is buried here. My sister got married here. When we came. my sister had already been married. My brother left with a hundred goats (I’ve got another brother, they were three brothers altogether) but he was robbed. Who :knows who took the goats from him, maybe the partisans, what matters is that they took the goats and didn't pay. Then he wont to Rovinj, in Croatia, in Dalmatia. He studied there. My father used to tell us ~ “I had :1 dream; i dreamt l was gathering chicks under my armpits. one chick at a time, pick one up, pick another up. He said it was us, the children. My brother came first; the one with the goats; he came and then dad submitted on application for us in the Red Cross, and so he came. We hadn’t seen our father for eight years. Nothing. And then they said: “Do you want to leave?" “Where are we to go?” -— we asked. “To your father’sIl—ie’s looking for you." We were kids, so we cheered; but we could’ve stayed. People wanted us and wanted to adopt us, but is was our father we are talking about. Anyway, had we stayed there, we would have been educated; we wo uld‘ve finished university, some school-~ ing. Here, my dad didn’t let me go to school; i had to work. We could’ve had some schooling, but dad wouldn’t let us. Anyway, this letter came. “Do you want to go?" “Yes, we do.” My two brothers, one of them was fifth, and the other was seventh grade. He finished high school here. i didn't... So. as we‘d agreed, we arrived in Skopje where dad waited for us. There were so many kids, about 100, both Macedonians and Greeks. Those who had relatives. who wanted to come —- those children came. What year was that? I g 82 a ' The Exodus o! the Mumdmiium from Great 1955. All in Skopje. gathered in one big ball. My father is looking at the children; 3—443; 20; 30; 100 kids. He can’t recognize us. We are changed, grown. Think ofit, a five—year—old girl became a melve-year~old. So, when we came back, my dear, nothing... They looked in the name list and when they said Maria “I am,” ~ said I. Then my dad appeared. “These are your kids, two boys and a girl” — that was me. We hugged and kissed; but we didn’t know each other Were you happy when you saw your father? Well, both happy and sad. I felt sorrow. We hadn’t seen each other for eight years; I didn’t know my father. I couldn’t see him so I didn’t know him. We didn’t have .1 mother. My mother had died long before, when we were in Greece. How did she die? She died, she was sick. 5% Was your fathom partisan? Yes. he was. He fought in the war. That‘s all l know about my father, nothing else. I know about me. My father was a partisan. He‘d say: “We slaughtered all out livestock for the partisans; barefoot and without a stitch to our backs.” Anyway, We hugged and went by coach. He brought us here. My. my. were we wretched! We were taken up at the monastery. My dad was so poor; he couldn’t rub two nickels together. He had nothing, not ovon a house or furniture. I cried because I knew we’d left a heavenly place. Heaven, I tell you. Why did we come? My father owned nothing. He recoivnd 200 000 dinars from the tobacco.M No work or anything. He ended up with too many children; four all together. Three boys and my father - that‘s four and I. five people in total. My sister was married. All of a sudden there was nobody to look after them. They had to eat, you had to cook. nothing special —» any food would do, and than clean up... $5; Did you know how to cook anything? W? No. My father would tell me: ' r ' " This amount had a symbolic value. 5'“ Maria Bogkovu I’urizowi 33 ‘lHere‘s what you do; them you go, pres's harder. .." and I would knead dough. In those times we baked the bread ourselvcé; we didn’t buy it like today. Oh, how we baked it! We would go down the mountain and take it to the furnace. From the monastery, farther downwards. It was hard,work. Then they said: “Let’s give these refugees some little site so that they could build themselves houses.” Fine, we built a small house. right there behind. We worked, we mixed the mononond what not and toiled and finally built the house. Later, I got married, and t'lien'l was bles'siét‘l with children. Well, that’s life. {Maria Parizovu photographed shortly «fa Tar-hi” marriage (Prilup, 1966). Very well; so, you got some schooling in Budapest. Couldn’t you continue your education here? l couldn’t here. Did you marry at a young age? No, l was older when I got married. I was 25. That’s not old! Well, no, but now I’m sixty. '11»: wad“; al‘lhg‘ fiarwmam E‘mn’x (imam . - ’ _ Were you pretty when you were yourgg? ' z ‘ ' Ohu-O, you should see the photoé, you-Mini racagnize me. Those weer hard times, you see. There « faculty, here - raise tobacco. What could I do? Fate, that’s what it is, ItWas meant to be. , m.» . . . . p . x’. v “AMONG THE WOUNDED nga Kargmanfiyfi _{V 4 m .3”; .51. ' Haranflwlnv Olga Kara ikolovu, photo taken f > i, 184-; The Exadux of the Mnmluniam [mm Great After the Creek's situation around Zahariadi, things became quieter and one day the postmen came with a small bag full of letters. all of them had been opened and read. Later, in July of 1951. the Red Cross started reuniting husband; and wives first. In 1952 children and mothers win-«being raunitedvchildren and patents lookal- for each other through the Red Cross. hi 1951, with my one and a half years old ' n daughter 1 went to my husband in Czqchbslovakia. We stayed in Ebert: for fifteen . years and we had two mare children. we stayed in Czechoslovakia fifteen years, « . ’ ' from 1951 to 1966. Then we came here. My chiltlrcn did the military service her ’; my daughter dancad in traditional dance ensembles. It was Yugoslavia then; She fell in love with a Yugoslav soldier (like me) and she went to heskovac. My older s'on never got used to this place. He'gracluatrd from high schohl, 'did the military r service and said: “I’m going back to‘C‘zechoslovakia."-He was chtitlcd hnirersity education there. He graduated in Psychplogy and got married; the wedding was here‘ A few years later they divorced; but he aid fine afterwards. glint them he fell rery ill and died. His son, who lives them, is nineteen years hid nq'fw. p Stefa Digalova at the time ofthe research for this bank. (Skagie, 2001). /v~a)"'¥y‘ f Steflnn Difl’m E a, 4351th comes from a family bf typical Macedonian migrant workers. as born, her father went tq America and returned ten years later. r youth Stefana got invohfed in the organization of the antifascist charge of the organization of AFZ in V’mbel and, after having . ome training. she joined the battle on the Gramos. Several times I e road from the Gramos Iqjmbania and back to the village in the e to save the weunded. Herjifc has been as hard as the lives of all Ennis Lafazanavski: Mrs. Stefa. what kyqx'gr‘maiden name? Stefania Diganvslm: Timiovi. ' When were you born? a I was born in 1927 Where? In the villageof V’mbel. Are you Maaedonian? I'm Macedonian, and so Were my mother and my father, my grandfather am; my great grandfmher. < Tell me something about the viilage ofV‘mbeI. There were more houses. but after 1920 and 1921, when the wars started (there were wars than as well) some fled to Bulgaria and many more to My father-in-law had three brothers and all of them went to Bdgaxia. Erunithere they moved to America. When we left there were about ninety or ninetymfiwfamiw lies. That’s what the village was like when 1 W there. A x i W mg 18815 Thelixoduso tthmedouians mmGrem 2. g 1 How old were you when you fled? Son. in 1945 i got married and in 1948 we were all organised. All the women - young or old - were organised in the struggle, we all worked equally for the parti- saos. for Macedonia. Before we get to the time of your flight, I would like to know what on ordinary day was like. Could you describe it to me? Everybody knows what a girl does in a village: we worked in the fields, we har— vested. and threshed and we lived a quiet life because nobody argued or anything. We had manners. Tell me about your family. How many were you? Well, let me see; there were my grandmother and my grandfather. my aunt and uncle -— that’s four, my mother - five. and my father - six. What about children? 0h, children? I was the only one. When I was a year old my father went to Argen— tina (note: later it becomes evident that he went to Detroit, U.S.A.). l was born in 1927 and he went to Argentina in 1928. He left a yearling and found a ten year old child when he returned. Fifteen lads went and none of them carhe back. They all left wives in the village and perished, some orphaoing two, some three children. Only my father came back. My mother used to tell him, “Come back, Labro (that was his name); come back. Your old folks will be gone, if only we could see each other!” Youth is foolish! And the wives suffered at home! They waited and never tema r» ried or anything. Some had two children, some three. My mother had one. There’d been another one, but he died ~— my brother. I also had an uncle there. my mother’s brother. “Come back, Labro. We can’t go on like this any longer.” There wasn’t work there either. It was misery in Argentina too, He was in South America. Why on earth did he go there? Well, he went there. Everybody from V’mbcl went there! What city? Detroit. But when he came back. I remember everything he told us about that place. l was ten years old when he came back. i was afraid to come near him, I was afraid of him! r But did he write? 2‘ He did and he sent money. My mother was at home with the old folks. There were four of them. “Let’s go to the old country." That’s what they called it, the old country. My mother used to write “Come back Inhro, your folks have grown old and we only have one child; our youth is going by, it will be over." Ten, twelve years went by and they tell us toga there‘ (my mother had a brother there). "No," she says, “we can’t some, don't havomoney.” “Come. I’ll give you money”, he wrote. Hohad a fine job there. He worked night shifts at a butcher‘s for four years and day shifts for another four. He earned quite a bit thorn. like the businessmen today. ‘ " They too wore organised in a communist potty ~ all of them. .‘ 1,5. There? There. One. of them was caught; Kiro Kisiltdv; and he was sentenced there and sent back to Greece. “Where are you from?” “er0:,” he said and they sent him back to Greece. He spent time in Athens,l don’t-linow how long. : . This is Detroit we’re talking about? Yes. Detroit. My hither came back afienvards. When he came back, was itfor good or he went back to America again? He planned to go back to America but my mother didn’t let him. She said: “You’re not going anywhere. Your old folks are old; Why would you go! The others stayed there, my uncle and everybody else. They all died there; they were killed because they were~communists and none of them came back. Only my father did. And so we lived here with my father. lnl945, at eighteen, l got married. There. in Vmbel? Yes. Who didyou marry? I married Dono Digalmski. And we lived there for two or three years and thou the organisation started, the fighting, and wo'storted organising ourselves for-tha-war and this or that. ’ t You lived a quiet lifie. When did you first hsar'rhnt something was going to happen? x .3 l: 199 ' ' The Exodus a! the Macedonianrfmm Groom In 1940. There were rumours in the village that there was going to be a mess; that this or that would happen, because my father used to go to Kostur, he had a sister there and the Greeks told him: “labro, there’s going to be a war. It’s in the papers. You in the villages don’t know anything but you, who are near the border, are going to get it the worst." That’s what a friend of his told him. “You’d better get out of there.” “How on earth am I to get out of there? We have livestock at home, ten héad of cattle, land and all." My mother said, “No way, we aren’t going anywhere. No. Labro, no! We’re staying here!” ' But then, in 1942 and 1943, we ~ the youth and the old -~ started organising ourw solves and we had meetings. There were partisans coming from both our and those other villages. First the AFZ same to organise us. A woman from Krchishta came, Donka was her name; and Urania from lzglibe too. Our villages in the Kostur Re— gion. What your was it who: they came to organise you? They came in 1948! They came to organise us all and the children were to line because then: was going to be war. The small childrenwore to flee. And the entire leadership gathered in the village *- lcinoti we used to call it - and we were to let the children flee because of the war. My kid brother was only three years old. “I‘ll send Donka away,” said my father (that’s my sister, she is in Canada new. My brother is there as well. They are still alive, they still phone me. My mother. and my father died). Anyway, they told us to send the children away. So, you have a brother and a sister? Yes! They’re in Canada. 1 But. when I askrd you, why did you say you were the only child? No; look, they were born after my father had come back. He came back in 1938 and my sister was born in 1939! My brother was born in 1945. He was six months old when I got married. But my father didn’t want to send him away. “I’m not sending this one away!” said my father. Then a man stood up m Greek or what, I don’t know -~ and said: “No. Labro, you have to. if you don’t, you’re tearing the shirt, you are making a split in the partybecause if you don't let your children, nobody else will.” And my father ‘32 -. . é ‘. x53 é» i ii, Toll-mo, who didn’t want you? 34;}: Tell me: what you were doing in EPON. What wore your duties? said, “But he’s small, he’s only threo yearsold, he doesn’t know anything. I’ll let .Donltn, but not her brother. Then a man-with was somewhat aside said: “Liston, Lahro. l bite you and I respect you. hula?“ worked for the party, you’re all notiye and all;’that's why you have to let yo "lg-little son go, because there will be carnage. They’ll find you and kill you.” Want-it or not, we had to let him go. When 1 came home, my mother was crying and shélsaid: “What are we going to do, daughter?" » " i=3; “You must send him awayl You must there’s going to be a war! Because i was-in the‘ hFZl You‘ll send him away!” 3,. Jr Between what ages were the children you waouttted? Well. they were small. i told you, my brothergwas three. We. evacuated those that were up to fifteen of sixteen. All of those whdfivcre eighteen became partisans and perishevaot a single one came back in one" piece. They all got killed young! They didn'tknow how to take cover. A bullet isn‘t picky at all! None of those kids came back, They all died. I had a cousin, Sultana. She too was killed. Other five cousins ofniine alsogot killed. Mito‘s sister also gotltilled, and she was only a girl. She was wounded at the Gramos, They carried her. he was wounded; the Women carried her along the road to Albania. We carried :tholgtretchers on our shoulders and our shoulders were all bruised. We took them to Alhania (see photo). They were send-— ing them there and the aeroplanes camoaiidii‘lew over our heads. They let them hide on the (ironies and one came from-aboye. She could have survived. but she was wounded. She was taken to Albania. Envér Hoxha gave us refuge in Albania then; Thin other one didn’t want, us; hush, théy might hear us. ‘ Tito! Wordincd our politics with him. We’d cooperated with him. There were kids in the hospital here; that’s where they were being treated. In the Kailanovo Bath. How many of our people‘died there! They never built a single monument! ' j Let’s get back a little. The first organisation youwere in was APZ? Have you bean in any youth organisation? " First we were in the Youth Organisation EPON. When we got married, ya got in AFZ. ' 7 i 3 192 ‘ The W”: o! the Macedonians [mm Gretta We used to have meetings, we had a president and they ordered as what to do and what to work. They gave us pamphlets and they used to take us out and we all read them, we organised ourselves. Everybody was organised, young and old. . And what did you do in the organisation? Did you help: did you knit or make bread? You’re damn right, we did! We knitted woollen caps and socks for the partisans.- We would order the people: you knit that, you this. Everybody knitted, old or young. Then we would make a round and collect the things. Then we put five women in charge. One would collect the socks and stuff for the partisans; another would organise the gathering of grain. We organised who would’mske bread for the partisans on what day: one furnace with twenty kilos of bread. The‘following week other people would make the bread and take it to the partisans while it was still warm. We did whatever was needed to be clone for the partisans. We had to take the food and the things in the mountain; we had to take the cauldrons to them by night. There was a Greekfilako at our border. Greek patrols. But all in the filnko were communists. It was at the end of the village. The village was five hundred meters from the border with Albania. “We know what you’re doing; we can see you when you take food and all to the partisans," they said. “We are communists as well: so, don’tworry,~wewon’t doyou any harm; just don’tgive us any trouble,” they said. And, believe it or not, one day. they were walking past some wood and the Greeks and the partisans almost bumped into each other; the Greek patrol here and the partisans there and nothing happened, they didn’t even touch each other. They told us. “lt‘ you 'give us any trouble, we’ll torch the village.“ We’d told that to the partisans and nobody made any trouble. They walked past pretending that they didn’t see each other. Nothing happened to our village until we left it. There wasn’t even spying, nothing of that sort. We were united, young and old. We or“ ganised things and worked together. But then the time came when they drafted all of us. There were some who were older than me, a woman from AFZ, Leftera from Tolbuhin; she’s in Bulgaria now. She‘d been in charge. But she’d left and then, with three other women we decided that I should be in charge of AFZ in the village. 1 was in charge when the war was looming. You were in charge ofAFZ in V’mbel? Yes, for two years before I joined the partisans. Could you describe how you organised the women? \ $.22 we.“ t Stetson Diminished . 2.193 a" We used to organise all the women. We’d call them to come to a house and all of them would come running. “What can wejdo?” it was war, they would come to make bread and we would say: “You, bake this many loafs of bread; you, knit this many socks. you do this, you do that. . .” There were three of us: Lafazani’s Leftera, she’s still alive and one Mitka Gesikovqjshe died) and me. All the women used to do ‘what we told them. The fighting began. Tito betrayed us; he didn’t want to take he in. All the wounded were being brought to our village, from Rnlja hnd lirez'nica and the other villages. All houses in our village were open to them: the houses at Dingalovs. of Lamhros (your tam- ily), your grandfather’s and grandmother’ste 'were closest to the Albanian bor— der, aboutliva hundred metres. We were there. we were to go on the Malimadis. it was war and we all hit to the Vicho. But Tito- wouldn’t let us. 13an we headed to Albania, to whether Enver Hoxha would take, us and the wounded. Our backyards were crowded, the Dingalovs’. Krumo’s, "Proof-s and my father—inwlaw’s backyards were full of wounded partisans. There was-blood everywhere, but more got injured by the stones —- very stony that Malimadi. Whm doyou think. why didn’t Tito take you? ._. I don’t know why. Because they broke upthe'politics. Maybe the men know what the matter was. . ' Anyway, two or three men who were iii-charge went to the border and there they agreed. Fine. Then Vsina came, wounded. 'He was an officer, our commanding officer (he’s in Bulgaria now). He stayed inoor house for three days. What was his name? Pando Veins. He lives in Sofia, Bulgaria. I think he‘s still alive. 50, he arrived wounded and not all of us knew him. “Whatiin heaven’s name happened to you, Panda?" said my mother in low, Lyalya. “I‘m wounded in the heart,” he said. But the bullet had got out from the other side. My husband was at home. A month later the partisans drafted him. “What’s the matter, Pnndo?" he said. All night long, for two nights we sat there until they agreed to let us into Albania. lie couldn’t wait. The ditches were full of partisans. Forgive me, but blood was pouring everywhere and it started to smell, it was summer. They-didn’t want us here and nothing could be done about that. So, they went to the border and they explained, they told them that we were having difficulties with the youths. “They’ll die, we have many wounded. take us in," they said. "We will, glddly, but you’ll take them to'hilishta,” they replied. \ «5N NM 94 I The Exodus a the Macedonians X l 1 (33m Greece And what did we do? All the women, young or old, carried the wounded. Our shoulders were bruised all over. We were taking them to Bllishta and there were people waiting, with white coats and everything. How long did it take you to get to Bilishra from V’mbel? It took us two hours — on foot through Vrmnik. We were to leave the wounded there, and go back. Some died on the way, they couldn’t make it. We had to take the dead back to our village and hurry them there. So, back to V’mhel we carried them. God knows how many youths we buried in V’mbel. So, it ended. They-waited for us and took us in. All the youths were treated in Korcha, all of them (photo of the hospitals). That Vaina was wounded here and he kept saying, “I’m dying!” My mother told him, “You‘re not dying.“ and he got well and left. But he came back two weeks later! He came one night and my mother—inflow said: -— “Lad, aren't you Panda?" - “I am; recognise me?" - “I do; but, lad. you’ve come back too early!” - “Oh, I am back because Macedonia is not free yet. As long as it‘s not free. ..” But he was wounded here, this port here was ripped; the bullet had got out from here. It would have killed him, had it stayed inside. Later I’ll tell you about my motherminwlaw. She was wounded by shrapnel and died on the spot. The three of us joined the partisans. My husband's sister is still in Greece. When my husband, his sister and I bid her farewell, my mother said: “Go and come back, that I might not wither; if only i could go instead. if only I would die instead.” The three of us went and none was wounded or killed, to tell you the truth (what’s right is right), we came back alive and well; but she, at home, died before we returned. By shrapnel; ymr know how far the artillery was? Maybe six hours of walking away. A scrap flew from it and that's it. My grandfather was near the blast, but he ducked quickly and, although soiled all over, he got up. But those things fly up. She shrieked. Such a small piece ofscrap here (shepor‘ms at the heart) will kill a person §he died on the spot. She died two days after we’d left. ’s Our house was a hospital; old Digallra’s house was a hospital too. They cirt off legs and arms there; there were Greek doctors, specialists. Your house was adapted to serve as hospital? I Yes, hospital. They brought them here and treated them. And who helped? Did you help during the trenmient of the wounded? é ; , Siganomgflmhn 3 y. Of course we did! All the women helped. Everybody helped when help was needed. Young or old, we all helped. If someone were as i am now, seventy years old, and too feeble to‘walk, they’d give their mule to carry the wounded. Young and old, we were one and carried the wounded. No other village worked like we did. There were-wounded in the other villages,_like deeshtica, Kosinec, Lobonica and so on. but we were the closest to the border - S'Oll'rnetres. We had land in Albania. We had passports, like the ones today, with pictures and all. Whenever we went to work our land, we‘d show them to the Albanians and We would go. We got on very well .with the Albanians in those days, very well. And they rookyou in? ; Yes, us, the woundedand all. When we were on the Vicho, after the fighting and the dying and all, we fled through Albanin; l crossed at the Gramos. We all got to Blbosan."l‘here were people from our village there. We weren’t allowed to see each other. The elders were waiting for us down there. So, they said (our elders could all speak Albanian) —- “Where are you taking the youths? Do they intend to send them back again?” ' . ‘ We stayed there for two days and rested a hit. Then the trucks came and lined up. They were big army trucks with tarp. We didn’t know where they were taking us. We thought they would send us elsewhere, to other countries and save us. But they sent ’us back to the Gramosl lust imagine their policy! Back to spend the night on the Gramosl We stayed there for three days, son. We saw neither a living soul nor a house, nothing! Only big firs, stones and rocks. We stayed there and dug holes to hide ourselves in. Were you armed? We were. We all had rifles, we the women. The one l had was Italian and it was bigger than me! Did you fire it? ‘Course l did! i trained for two months or Prespa. night and day. We trained firing the polivolo”. In our Prespa; a month in P’pli and another month in Rudori. Two months! it was winter and they made us lie down in the snow and get up all the time. Gareii was our instructor ~2- rramatirfihis‘” , as we say. Lie down; get up « only women, the entire platoon wasofwornen, fall young girls. I was only thhenl We toiled so much that we used to say that had they paid us for our toils. wewould “5 Machinegun ‘“ commander l 96 517:9 Exodus ufthe Mnmlonimis [row Greer» t have made a fortune! But we didn’t find it hard. But we th'otight‘we whre going to. get killed. And the battle of Lorin started. Let's get back to when they sent you back to the Gmmos. Oh, yes; they sent us back to thr‘pramosJWe went thyme and we had no food. We were starving. They did have stocks but they didn’t giire us any food. “C’mon, give us some food!” “No, there isn’trany." They torched the denote when walled. We had no food in the beginning. The bread was dark, like this, and they cut it in the middle. We were young and we wanted bread. There were older people with chilw than and all. and we said: “Tome, wt: ‘Want some bread.” “There’s nothing I can do, girls. There isn‘t may!” They gave us some marmalade in tins, which they opened. It was dark, there wasn‘t any light, and there were ants all over the marmalade. We ate it and then we all had stomachwache. We were young, we wanted some bread. Then other countries started sending or; things. We had bread and everything. When we went to the Gmmos, we had everything. But it was in vain. Oh, when they flow at our throats! Oh, son, when those hurand'ars” started! They yearn naked down to their waists, etched on hashish (god knownl what they were givmg them) and they started shooting like mad! They would drop barrels ofgasolinc from aeroplanes and set the entire forest on fire. The youths were running awov. some got killed, some were wounded. They were drugged you say, eh? Right, so that thcy could kill in frenzy, otherwise they couldn’t have done it like that! If they caught you, they’d kill you on the spot. Many were killed like that. There was this Greek, I can’t remember if he was the highest ranking com«~ manding officer in charge of us. We were waiting with our rifles and waiting and waiting. And. I said to him 3 “Look out; they’re: firing from above us!” “No, Digalo, don’t spread panic now; don't scare the women!” 1 “But listen, man! Listen how the bullets whiz! They’ll catch us alive on this hi 1.” They’d surrounded us on all sides; they'd left us only a narrow path to Albania. There was no way out elsewhere. “Wait, let me see,” he said. He came near me and the bullets went whiz, whiz from above. They wanted to capture us. We were all women, the entire platoon nurses who carried the wounded on stretchers. “True, they’re firing from above! Quickly, come here.” So we gathered and said “What?” "l‘lélifi,”.l’le said, “along the river". And-he:- walk along the river. one woman twenty meters behind another. He was very good, not ’A single one of us got killed, not a single woman! He told us “If you lint me, not a single one oi'you will get killed." ' A There whs a woman from chjovo. She was or village but her husband was in Lorin. She hid somewhere. We looked for pidcallcd her; we didn’t know where shei'd hidden. She-hid because she wanted: ‘ ' go. to her husband. So, we find and he headed to the border; to on the run. When we got there. they. opened thcborcler to us. Just beforéi't'hxhlbaninn border, we ran into the othefyouths and l'saw M‘ita's brother (he ago, born in n I927, he’s on Great now). He was tanned; he was as dark as, this/'51 l and another; girl. from Shishtevo walked‘togelher and we said, - “We are not parting!” — “You‘ll get killed, both ofyou.” - “Even so, we are not parting!” So, we trenglion, didn’t care about our lives; our souls entwined. We were resolute. V” As we went on, that sooty lad shouts‘in ,Grgelifiécome, sister, l‘ve been waiting, for you so' long!” I said to that girl, “Dcspa, that’e your lad.” "No, Stefano, it‘s not; it’s talking to. you." l couldn’t recognise himljtiefivas deaf because of the shells that had been falling around and sooty front; ‘oke from the burning mountain and the gasoline they were dropping -— the‘ha {with which they were setting the mountains ablaze! My husband told me abou Vlthat later ~ he was a telephone op_ orator: “When they started dropping thcnil; threw the telephones and every- thing rind started running. The command'erfithld us to throw everything and run for our [lye . to jump into the pits and then-tun to Albaniat I threw everything. A girl told me to throw everything: ‘What do youneed that for?’ We were on the run. Anyway. this lad says “Come here, sistehl’t‘robiérn waiting for you so long!" When I got near him, I said “Damn, haze. is that you?" “It’ me" We hugged and i asked him why he looked like that." He said: “Sig, {was running. They wanted to get me there, the mountain is on fire from the barrélh, everything's on fire!” We hugged again. “What about the others?" I asked, “my‘ic‘ousins —~ Flijo, Italio and Sotir?” “They’re all hem. You’ll find Sotir farther 3 hey were my father‘s sister‘s chil— then). I went up and Isny Sotir lying on thé ground; he bolted up and embraced me. “You’re alive!" he said. “I am," i answered-f That’s what we asked each other; who wasfétill alive. "What about your cousin Filjo?” I asked. w “Farther up, he is alive, but I don’t knowiifiyou’ll find him.” Stefano lpigzlnvska 1.197 l " 198 The Itirudw a! the Macedonian: {ram (irate We all gathered there. We got to the last mountain, in Albania, and even than: they 'fired upon us. Evcn in Albania. We were bad news to Albania. They bombed even in Albania. We went to an Albanian place and the Greeks sthrtedpounding us over and over again. W muldn’t hidc anywhere. What werc‘wc to do? A man was wounded and we didn’t hm: stretchers to carry him on. We had thrown them away. Then, we put him on a blanket. We decided to lift him in that blanket and that twa were to hold its front ends and other two the rear ends, so that we could carry him. What could we do? We had to save people. They accepted us in Albania and We got in. There I saw ane again; he came to the last hill where we'd seen each " other and i asked him: "Where did they capture you? (They had captured him). - “On the last hill on the way to.Alhania, the Greeks surrounded and captured us. am,” he said, “our weapons had been taken away from us and we didn’t have ‘ ~ anything to shoot with.” Sue. politics is politics! There was propaganda between them and us even then. 1—4“ “Had we had the guns, we Would have defended ourselves and gotten away; we I would have opened fire. They came to us and two of them got me. I didn’t have a weapon; it had been taken away from the.” ~;“Why did they take your rifle away?” ‘ . —~ “i don’t know; they just took it. But. luckily, we were in good. hands. If he had been drunk, he would have killed us on the spot. This one was young, twenty-mo or twentyflltrcc years old. i told him that I hadn't done anything and they said fine.“ it was like in those days: I haven’t done anything. Fine. They didn‘t hurt ‘ him. Later he was imprisoned in Crete, in the big prison by the sea where he spent two years. We Had to Albania from there and stayed two months. ’ Where? In Blhasan. The others Were in Burcli. We stayed two months and rested. “Thank God, we got out of there alivc,” we thought and started looking for other survivors. i was looking for that cousin of mine, Laze, but couldn‘t find him anywhere. iwas looking, asking. everywhere and everybody. “We haven’t Seen him. He must him- been killed, they said.” And we mourned him. After two months. they loaded us on a big Russian ship. What was the name afflict ship? ‘ Vladivostok. it was big. three storeys. Nine days and nine nights we sailed on it. We sailed and sailed and sailed... ,I V .' Slnlmmlfimiowku vlfifimi" Whore did you live your weapon; when you if: I? w v- " We disarmed before we crossed into-Albiiigia; 'when we fled from Greece. There was a inéadownbig as this place; it was pi " dark. 1 could hear my husband’s voice, -— he had-a strong voice ~ but héwfirgzin Ianothor battalion and we couldn't find-each other,.0ne guy asked me: “Do youhcar Done’s voice?" —~ “l do, but I can’t get near him. if you go hiya}! from hero. the other ship won‘t lflkc youLYoulhavc to stick to your own young" m “l cant.” said I. Butns we cross hi, we dropped our guns. ” thcin. ' of us. Everybody that had guns left 1 Who collected tho weapons? v Our people. W honevcr we want hack to the (ironies, they'd give it back to us. The people from our village were on hilltop nnd‘ti’raited there. They waited tor us that we might sonicach other. An Albanian lad gilded them (our men could all speak Allianizm .tlicultfwmt are you waiting hgreglfg; ” - “Haye the youths come from over thereiiiour people asked. ~ “They‘re not going to pass here; they‘vc goné'elsewhere. You’d better go; don‘t wait for them)”, a My. And they started weeping. “They’ll take our children again." Then the trucks‘came and lined up. There mr't'y-‘hnve been a hundred or two hun» tired trucks with tarp and they loaded us on flight, the entire army, to take us away. We pooped thrh'ugh the opening and we :go _.-.l<orcha. Big city that Korcha! We hadn‘t seen a city so big until then! It Was all bright and illuminated! They had hotpitals there. "Look. that's Korchal” the me‘nwho were being taken to he treated them and who returned. With that penicillin it took only fifteen days to cure them. “That‘s Korchafi? they said as they were coming out. There Enver anha treated all our wounded. ' Where they wch taking us from there wotlidn’zt know. W e w0uld get our weapons brick whenever we got to the Albanian border with Greece, whenever we crossed into Greece. “What are these for?" we u§cd to shy, “we carry the wounded.“ “Never mind. you can’t carry them unarmed.” ‘We had learnt about the guns for two months; we: had'to know every part of it, we had to be able to disassemble it and assemble it even blindfolded. Lie down, get up, dressed in army uniforms and all. So. we went bat-k on the Gramos. Cu rsed'place that the Gramosl There wasn't even a single living soul there. not a single housq. Only rocks and firs and nothng more. “A lot of youths foil and infurcd themselvcr onthosc rocks. » 200 i'l‘he Exodus a! the Macedonian: [mm (3mm o. .We were like dead. They told us that we were not to cough even; we were not to ’ So, there were Greek partisans with you as well? Let’s talk a bit more about that ship. Yes. we got on the ship and we didn’t know where they were taking us. We got 1% seasick, dizzy and about to vomit. The sailors spoke Russian and we didn’t under— E stand a word they said. We came to the Dardanelles. Theywere taking its to‘Tur» .key. As we got to the nardandles, they said "Silence now!” It wasn‘t a ship for people, but a cargo ship! For grain and other thing, you know. We had to lie down. They gave us some cans, but we didn’t feel like eatinget all, We sailed for ten days. p . W“)... . . egrvt?‘ . make a sound. We were only to lie down while we were going throughthe Darda~ L nelles. If they caught us, they’d sink us, they said, They’d sink the entire shipl.So,‘_‘ we kept our mouths shut. ' Some people boarded the ship and on the dock they started taping and raping, topping and rapping, listening, straining to hear. “What are yon carrying?" they asked and the sailors answered “Nothing, open these if you want. we have only grain and flour. This is a cargo ship.” _ ' ’A .. We M. We passed the Dnrdanelles and ’l‘urltey. They told us when‘we could get out. ~ g i We weren't discovered, . - r ' . R. What did you eat those nine days? . ? You just don’t feel like eating! We felt sick all the time. Those tins were rolling all the time. We had food but we didn‘t want to eat. We had biscuits and things but we couldn’t taste them. We vomited all the time. You lie all the time and you can’t get up. if you tried to get up to go somewhere (there was a small fence there) — you’d fall. God knows how many youths fell overboard. Windsand waves started, ugh, it was dreadful. Diseases from want of hygiene! We didn’t even have water! I Once it started mining and we started collecting the water with all the pots and dishes we had and we drank that water. in the morning we found out that there was an inch of rust in the water, from the washed from the ship. Everybody got dysentery. The men were the first to get it. Finally, we got to a city and they cured 3. us all. At last, my husband came to Tashkent. }. V . . s . Before we got there, they told us we were going to Russia. We the Macedonians were thrilled, but it wasn’t in the Greeks interest. “Hurrah!” said we. bu? the Greeks weren‘t happy about that at all, ‘3 A pejorative word for the Greek royelist troops who fought against the communists. g ,i. ’ Yes, there were quite a few of them. wollrtlte Greeks organised us and they too were coming from the villages and the tbwris-i’l‘he‘Greeks pulled it out. Finally, we arrived in Tashkent. '3? Butrlte'Creeks were communists, weren‘t fliey?--‘. Right, conimunists. :5; Then, why weren't they happy ahoutgoing to. "glide? “s5 Tl‘h‘ey didn’t want to go there. They didnft liltcjlhfevSlavic language. ‘I‘hey’ re Sings as well, but they didn’t like the langoagefi r Forit‘irhet reason, I wouldn’t knowéilow could they have liked it when they were tryingto eradicate our language? You now that they were doing that. don’t youi’.They were jailing us. They arrested my in“ ther-«inw-Ilaw only because he’d shouted at his‘hxt"0h-ha. dolu, mirlm" Proedrosw‘ was in the village and they told him to goto court and pay a fine. And whyl? lie~ enlist": he spoke Macedonian to his ox! no ox,” he said, “I can’t teach the Greek now!" “You will," they sold. f’Go'fto'the court in Konomlati and pay the line there if you don’t want to spend hooteftime in jail." That’s what they were doing to us; theyididn‘t'wam our Slavic language. They’re Slavs as well, but they didn’t like the language-(On our way, we the Macedonians cheered “Hurrah! We’re going to Rossialll”'Vlie were all happy and singing. They screened at film for us on the deck. Sicil- os we were, we got up and went to watch it. We got to Tashkent the following 0 How did they take you from the ship to Tashkent? On another boat. a smaller one. we lookout things and we got to Baku where they put us on a train. But those were cargo cars.»- for cattle, for oxen and cows, not for people. And the train went clong, dang, dang... “Don't worry." they told us. “we're going to Russia and, you’ll see, there’llhe everything.” If someone got ill. the Russians immediately helped us with a pill‘of some sort. We lived there for eight years. When we got there they waited for us. Oh, their people too were weary of the war. They saw us and started crying, “Oh poor, poor people; oh, misery." And they took us in. It wos'in Stalin’s days. ‘ What your was it when you got there? Was it slimmer or winter? 9“ in that. the Greeks are members of the Eastern Church—not Slaw (trails. note). "" Exclamation, “Doom, steady!” in Macedonian (twosome) "" The Read. the President ‘ __ _ .3; 5:51am! Digghtvslm $2 ' m-«Wm 20 2 Thu: lbwdur a! the Macedonians {mm Gram l’ll tell you; it was autumn of 1949. We were admitted and taken to a huge German camp with commons and all. They watched us and kept saying “0h. poor, poor people, oh misery, oh wretchcdncss,” « those Russian womén. There were no youths; they had all been killed, theré were only children who were still growing up. And they pitied us. Stalin gave us 500 roubles each. “Herc, buy yourselves what~ ever you want.” We rested a month and then we got down to work. Both men and women worked; we in the factories where they have those sewing machines, while the men worked in the steel factories; we worked and earned us money. The Russians loved us very much, very much. But the Greeks weren’t happy about all that and they argued a lot. Once, a man from our village, one Sotir, went to the stéel factory where my “husband worked also. - like the oncthey have here ~ and he said “Your daughter didn’t want you to come here. You work: trying to root out “our Slavic language once and now, like it or not. you’ll have to learn it yourselves. We know it «— Ros—- sian and Macedonian, they are alike.” But thcy were think—"headed. “Well, work hcye now!“ The Russians didn’t like their!) either. “Them Greeks,” they used to say, “they no good people. Greek no good people." But us they could understand, us - the Macedonians. Bread, water, they could understand cuerything. But l’m telling you, we spent eight very nice yoars there. After a while, my husband wanted to get out of there and work as a carpenter. '80. he said “I can‘t worlt here any longer; I’ll work in my own craft. I’ve been working here for three years. but I have a craft and I’ll work that.” But they said, “No. we‘re in the Party.” For three years, mind you, for three years they woke us up as if we were soldiers ~ the Greeks ~ early in the morning: linc ups, gymnastics and then we would go to work. Did the Greeks order you about there? Was there any propaganda? Yeah, there was. * . Did they gather you on meetings to tell you things? No, nothing of that sort. Only, when we asked them, “Why should we get up so early in the morning with that siren and than go to work like that?” - “We‘re still soldiers, we’re still soldiers,’ they said. W “What do you mean we’re still soldiers?" "We’ll go back to Greece.” But the Russians too complied as well because of the Parry. They too Were in the party, like We were. “You will comply,” they said. For three years we did that, and went to work like that. Fine. But then they started. The parties split; one for this, another for that, one for Dimitriu; they around) other alive about who to snatch 1 power. ' ‘ Finally. you ~— thc Macedonians:- didn't rum-“um side to take. We split ourselves. One took this side, the other that side -..hu§bands and wives, can you believe it? Ont: for this, the other for that; husband and'wifel Unbelirvablcl “What's the matter with you?" I said. "During-the pogrom we were dying together, , we crowded the hospitals with won nded; what’s gone into you, we were like brothers, I we fought together, ‘what‘s wrong with you fihnd then all got up and went their ways. But'then they said to that Zaharladiglthe‘irhighcst chief, “We need to write a book about our" struggle for Macedonia. Hos: “Den ipnrht‘ .Mrz‘lcrdrminl”W 'I‘hut dog “douriporhi Makedonfa" to us! We wet '. riousl How could people love each other-afto'r'somothing like that?”And wofd b “ ’_ljkc brothers; there were no divi» sions amorig us; we loved each otlier,.the:girls and the men. Dem ipnrlri Mnkedoniol when they said that, my husband told meifl‘l’ve been working in that steel plant for three years, my lungs are sooty ahead “and I can’t take it any longer! Why should li'l have it craft of my o'v'vn.” '3", Bin-they told him “We’ll oponfactories in GM race and you'll work there." . .' Tip ‘ “Listen, there are youngér than me; let them work there and learn. 1 can’t do n.” he said. ‘ No, they just wouldn’t let him go. He got'uorind left. The town wds‘d‘ivided. We were all in fourt‘égrnrtowns. Ours was the eighth. - What was its name? '5‘. ; , Kirovu. There were loaders for each of‘thcrn; every town had its own magistrate who was in charge. So, my husband went to our magistrate and said: “'I‘oVarish “"’ l“ - “Tell me what troubles you’ve got with them," the other one said, for they know that the Oracle; didn’t want us. m “l am a carpenter and I’d like to workin my own craft." —- “Wellrgo then; who’s stopping you?"’ . t I - “The Greeks won’t let me.’ V ~ "How 30? Who can forbid you?” w ”l’ve been working in the steel plant {or three years and i can’t do it any longer; I’ve got poor health and I’d like tog'm'b‘ut they won’t let me.’ ~~“Who? What! Come tomorrow, bring‘your worker record card and I’Il'lot you go wherever you want to, to whatever studio in the centre of the: town you want.” r it 204 Thu Exodus a! the Maredanians from Gram: or- 5%», “Whatever studio you want," he said to my husband. So, my husband wont to the factory and said: “i’m leaving, give me my work record.” - “Why?” they said, "where are you going? Who’s let you go?" w “i’m going and it’s nono of your business who let me! Do you still think you I Can order me about?” said my husband. “lust give mu the papers!“ m the party card, the identity card as we call it here. “You can keep it,” he said, “I don‘t want it anyway. lust let me go where I want. 1 want to work, i want to live here. What am i to live on? I’ve got a family hare; l have~ to make a living." “Fine,” they said, “go”. And my husband went to the first studio in the town and got a job there. Ami how long did you stay in Tashkent? We stayed there for eight years. And how did you come here? You know what happened. We didn’t want to move again. There are still many people there. Still many. Old Vane, my father-in~law, was in Poland. like many other from the Villages. We wrote to each other. My fatherwmflaw was there and I told you that my mothcrmin~law got killed back home. He was alone there, only with his sister-«in—«law and the daughter. And he wrote, “$011.1 am here and 1 want to come to you there.” My husband wrote him back “I‘ll take you in, dad; you can come here.” lie wrote a letter to Malckov, who was in power then, and he ox» plained “My futhur, Vane Digalov, is in Pinks, in that town: I love him and I’d like to bring him here.” Fifteen days had not passed yet and there he was «w the Russians brought Vane, my fathorv-in-nlaw! “We'll bring you whoever you want,” they said. We got on very well with them. For example, 1 live here and they leave there m three families, Greeks and all. But we never said an ill word to each other; not oven half an ill word! That‘s how much we loved each other. When the split happened and the big ones started qunrrclling, even then we m the families — never said an ill Word to each other. The men and the women, we all went to the factories and worked and sowed. Seven years [worked in a textile factory. i had a girl and i took her to a nursery. You could leave you child there on Monday and pick her up on Friday. How many hours did you work in the factories? Bight hours, not longer. And, I’m telling you, we settled in and got a small room of our own. One family lived in one room, another family in the next; then: were no doors. There were Greek women, but we never said an ill word to each Siciomlflggnlovska a , other; even when the parties started quarrélling, we still got on very well. But the ones who were looking {or power argued a lot-Sand blamed each other: “You’re for Zachariadi; l’m for Pnpudimitriu,” but we~ rheMaccdonlans —— were united. They loyed us‘wall there; even when‘wr: tvai‘htod to leave. We’d stayed for four years before my futhcr~in~law arrived and another four years after he got there. My son Vancho was born in 'l‘ushkent in 19565;; my daughter had been born in 1951'. Then, my folhcr-«in—law said: “Son, let's prick ourselves and go to Macedo~ nia. It’s line here,” he said (it was Uzbekisnnrmontral Asia; the Uzbeks were fine, unlike these here. and they had gold andvalll)‘, “but it‘s time we went to our parts, to Macedonia." My fatheruin—law'wanted'to boncaror to home. Who could go to our villagei‘lt was all ruins, entirely scorched. 'Our house had been burnt down. It was the first-to hehit-by a bomb and it burnt. Thoydidn't know how to get out and they loft all the money and everything inside. At-léast we stayed alive. Anyway. my fathciwin—«law said: “Let’s go.” “‘ - “C’mon dad, the kids are too smallif’ my husband said. “Let’s stay in little longer and work." We worked in the summed-toy husband had a good job and i worked in asewing factory where there were Jewish carpenters who helped me u lot. They used to tell us everything, they lovéd us. But there were some nasty Greek women too. For telling you, the Greeks weren’t-“very happy about us. There we were, Crepk,.llussian and Macedonian Womengfi-worlting together, no troubles or anything. The only troublemakers were those who were in the party: Dimitriu, Ariano, Psilanti m they only. ‘ Whnrparli‘us were there? Some were communists, some were godwknowsrwhat. They snarled at each other all the time. We, the people, the folks, kneW'notliing about that -— nothing. One day, my husband got up and to other two men, Chokrc from Smrdosh and Puljka from Gum-die, he said: “Let’s go to Moscow." The man who received them in Mosoow said: “What do you want?” “We’d like to go." was their reply. “Please yourselves," he said. ‘ Thcman in charge of the town asked them, “Why are you going away? What’s wrong with this place?” “There's nothing wrong, we’ve received only kindness; we’ve worked well and we’ve lived wall. but we only want to go to Macedonia now.” it was in central Asia. you know. In sumnwr there wasn’t a drop of rain and in winter whatever you touched froze your hand. “We want to get out of hero bocauso it’s vary far.” “All right,” he said, “go whatever you want. Only, you’d tell me if you had complaints about anybody.“ “We have no complaints," said my w in Greek: “Macedonia does not exist!” (trans. note). “‘“ Commie o m... “in..t....lwwm.m»,t...... M..,.....W«W4.WWW ) it. [06 “1770:2de of the Macedonian: fin: Greece hushund. We knew the Russians very well and we spoke Russian verywcll; we’d gone. to school to learn it. Anyway, they said fine. But they Were sorry we were leaving. “it would he better if the Greeks left and you stayed. You Macedonians are very good people." "My father wants to go nearer,” said my husband. .lilnally, they put us on a train and .we travelled for six days and six nights. We arrived in Moscow, stayed there a_while and then we got here. Here they put us in Idrtzovo and questioned us about this or that and what it was like in Russia. (...) And in that envelope there was a note which read that we were to go to Bitol'a. My husband had a sister in Bitola. But he also had a nephew who said: -“I won’t let you go in Bitola, you’re staying." “I would, but I don’t have a house. They’ll give me: a flat when l get there.” “No, you’re staying here.” They had 21 Turkish style house in llitpazarm‘ and they gave us a room with two. beds in it. Can you imagine that! There were five of us: My husband, two children. Vane and l. Misery! We stayed there three years. 1 wept and wept; in a single room you don’t have a place to do the laundry, the children were small, 1 went to work, I had to make years of service and earn a living; my husband got a job as a bill collector and worked that for 35 years, My father—inflow stayed home and took care» of the children. ' ‘ “" Old honor, a part of Skopje on the loft bank of the Vurdur (trans. note). » v.- ..l I .T' Lydia Stoyanovich Lafazanovska GENDER MEMORY: FE E STORY «- MALE HISTORY ,1- for” The universally glaciated view that the sphgre'of'the public (historykwfiars, politics etc.) refers exclusively to the relations of those groups that consist’of male memm bers‘and that can be discussed without ‘ cntioning womeiyiihs been somewhat transformed thanks to the research of e anthropolo .«6l' women and gender. This is exactly whence this research ori 'nat'ed, aitnyii' exclusively to obtaining a femaltz response to a traditionally molefubject. 4 to t subject matter, it was necessary to heoretic‘al principles that concern oral "gender anthropology. In order to get a satisfactory answe take into account previous empirical history, method of autobiography A decisive moment in favou rfc llecting autobiographic material while dc»- fming oral history was the vi point t at oral history is the solo domain in which “autobiographic narrative” eceives ch right to be the truth and is researched along with its entire “objectifilymm , unlike t a other domains whereupon only the suh~ jective moment is co iidered'm . -' The life stotie we collected, syste ' tised and ‘clgissified, had a double function; above all, they Stohlished the picture and defined oral history (that refers to the cited period but they also helped us V nravel the complicated issue of the gender circumsta cos in the given historical riiontent. ' MM ,rc’éht Lehman. Autobiographischo Merlmdeui Vcrfahrt‘n uud Maglichlrcitcn, in: lltlttmlogin lit (apnea. XI. 1, 1979/80. pp.36v~54: in ‘, ‘1 would now touch on the relation between , ml history” itself and its further adaptation in literz'ny works. Namely. while literary adaptations disillay the inclination of the authors who in their works create an illusion of oral narrative style. the othier case offers oral history in which We law the moment elimination ofpossihle fabrication and subjflctivity, and we attempt to eusuregrcuter percentage of truuwurthincss ofthc document. The best cxémplc of this relation is Uruniu Yurukova. whosentusw (early related autobiography has on the one hm‘ld been valuable material (0r obtaining an answer tut-our subject matter. but on the other hand has also served Petre M. Andrewski as the basis for his novel thcslm ’I‘imimwvna. (comp. Sandro Dull) ~Stuhl and Danielle [loomer (gum editors). “The Pet— sonal Narrative in Literature”. Weston: Folk | re, 1, l992.-Vol.5l l. i 7 ...
View Full Document

This note was uploaded on 10/07/2010 for the course SLAV 105-6 taught by Professor Elisabethelliott during the Fall '10 term at Northwestern.

Page1 / 24

Stojanovic-Lafazanovska - ‘ , THE TEACHER saga/Howe .—...

This preview shows document pages 1 - 24. Sign up to view the full document.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
Ask a homework question - tutors are online