Stories and Reflections from the Macedonians in Greece

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  • The LION will ROAR
    Senior Member
    • Jan 2009
    • 3231

    Stories and Reflections from the Macedonians in Greece

    RETURNING HOME TO MACEDONIA
    Mid July 2007 we arrived at the Athens airport and went through the EU gate. As we were arriving from another EU country, there was no passport check. We caught a bus into Athens and went to our hotel. It was about 40 degrees Celsius. Athens was very hot, crowded, dirty with piles of garbage on streets and very busy. My partner and I did the usual tourist things: Tour of the city, went to the museum, out for meals and went to the Acropolis. One evening we went to the Dora Stratou theatre. The open air theatre is Greece’s pride and joy and attracts a lot of tourists. We had missed the first few minutes, but as we sat down the presenter was discussing, I assumed, dances and customs in Alexander the Greats’ time. Prior to the first of the (Greek?) dances with accompanying music being presented, from we were told Florina (Lerin). I certainly knew from where these dances were, as I could not keep my feet still. They were not Greek but Macedonian. However the vast majority of the theatre goers would have been completely oblivious to this. I do not remember the word Macedonian or Macedonia being mentioned on the night. The night of proud depiction of traditional Greek folk dances, comprised almost entirely of predominantly Macedonian and some Turkish (Pontian) dances. We spent 3 days in Athens. The weather and atmosphere was quite suffocating and hard to get used to.
    From there we took a six hour bus trip to Thessaloniki (Solun). This city was quiet and calm in comparison to Athens. Aristotle Square was very impressive, as were the wide streets and the nearby sea. I immediately felt more at home and remember thinking, did we (Macedonians) really give this up, before reminding myself, no we did not give this city and Macedonia up. They were taken from us.
    We did tourist things and went to the tourist bureau. They were quite helpful and gave us a list of “domatia”, rooms to let, for some of the villages that we planned to visit. My plan was to stay in Macedonian people’s homes, in the Kostur and Lerin areas, but this did not work out too well, as any rooms for accommodation had to be registered and had to meet a certain criteria. Further without having our own transport, it was easier to stay in hotels in places like Lerin and Kostur and then travel to the villages.
    During our walks around the city of Solun, we asked a man for directions, after which he attached himself to us for a while. He considered himself very intelligent and knowledgeable and told us that Alexander the Great was Greek, because he spoke Greek. We did not bother to argue with this very self opinionated man. Obviously he did not see any faults with this argument. We just detached ourselves from his company and continued to explore the city.
    There were many hawkers and people competing for business. We went to the Macedonian Struggle Museum. It was certainly interesting. There were several maps in the museum of Macedonia. Of particular interest was a map depicting Greece before 1912 and after. I find it interesting that Greece claims that Macedonia is Greek, yet in their museum on the wall there is clearly a map showing when Greece took Macedonia over. I do not know how the Greeks justify this to themselves.
    I did not hear any Macedonian spoken anywhere in Solun. The Greek propaganda seems to have succeeded. On one occasion I was in a store purchasing an outfit. In my not so good Greek, I was carrying out the transaction. As it often happened in such cases I was asked where I was from and about speaking some Greek. I answered that my first language is Macedonian, which I speak much better than Greek. The manager was there and I believe the man present was her husband. The man said to the woman in Greek: “What is this Macedonian, I have never heard of Macedonian” referring to the Macedonian language. The lady said: “Eine Vulgari more, afti eine Vulgari” (she is Bulgarian); perhaps not realizing that I understood. Again there was no point getting into an argument with these people. Either they were completely ignorant or had convinced themselves to believe the Greek lies. By their appearance I suspected that they may have been Pontians from Asia Minor.
    After a few days in Solun we traveled by bus to Ooranopolis. I stayed there over night and my partner went to Mt Athos. Women are not allowed to go to the monasteries. All the peninsula and the area around Ooranopoulos, (I do not know its Macedonian name), is a major, major tourist area. I could not help thinking that a good way to get to the Greeks is through their tourism, which is a major money earner for them. If they are completely exposed for how they treated Macedonians and what they stole from us, including our history and attempts to steal our identity, won’t the tourists protest by boycotting Greece as a holiday destination? Therefore forcing the Greeks to own up to their many bad deeds? Yes I know it is a fantasy, but anything can happen in life. I was amazed to see how popular this area was for vacations. There were many hotels in the area and the outdoor markets sold many icons, maps and books on Mount Athos and other topics.
    We returned to Solun and went to Pella, we visited the excavations and the statue of Alexander the Great on his horse. Then we went to Veria and Vergina. I was surprised to see the royal tombs turned into a museum. I do not remember this being the case on my last trip here over 25 years ago. There was a tourist shop for purchases. The royal palace was closed for excavations as were the theatre and cemetery. It was a strange feeling, to know that all this is part of my land and history, yet others are taking credit for it and I am the one who is left to feel like an outsider.
    We returned to Solun and had dinner in a taverna across from the sea. This was very pleasant and cool in comparison to the heat of the day. The sea in Solun is the first that I had ever laid my eyes on, at age seven, before migrating to Australia.
    After almost a week’s stay in Solun we caught a bus to Bulgaria, as my intention was to visit all four parts of Macedonia. The bus depot was quite good. I was excited at visiting Pirin Macedonia, as it was to be my first trip there. We had to present our passports at both the Greek and Bulgarian borders, which we found interesting as they are both EU countries. I was a bit apprehensive at the Greek border, due to my place of birth on the passport indicating Bapchor. After long waits to get our passports back, everything was OK.
    We got off the bus in Sandanski and walked about a kilometer with our luggage, into town. I approached a lady on the street in respect to accommodation. She did not understand Macedonian or English but did know Greek, as she had worked in Greece for some time. She directed us to excellent accommodation at very reasonable cost.
    We were only three days in this area, but it was very memorable. We walked in the city square, visited an interesting museum, shopped, talked to the locals and went to interesting places to eat. The city square area was reasonably quiet during the day, but at night it came alive. We walked through the park and discovered a Macedonian wedding with traditional Macedonian songs. Generally this area was a lot poorer than Greece. The market and other businesses seemed to be just waiting for clientele. They did not appear to be making a great living. I experienced some difficulty with the language. I was told that I had forgotten my Macedonian, which I have, to a considerable extent. But I suspect that the Macedonians here, mixed a lot of Bulgarian in with their Macedonian and that was why I had difficulties communicating. Most of our travel comprised of using taxis. We went to Petrich and Melnik on a day visit.
    On the way to Petrich we visited the Shrine of Fadea and the hot springs. A lot of time was not spent in Petrich, as it is a very small township. We spent longer in Melnik and visited a winery in a cave which was pleasantly cool in comparison to the summer heat outside. The main street is very much on a slope, with quaint interesting houses. I am not sure as to how the majority of the people earned a living. I was informed that Greece had built a factory in Pirin Macedonia near the border and employs the locals. However I did not meet anyone who actually worked there. I expect labour would be cheaper here than in Greece. This could be the reason for the factory. I did not observe much growth in the fields in this area. There were always a lot of cab drivers around. Having tourists like us was good for business. However I was told by one Macedonian driver it was difficult for them to earn a reasonable living. His dream was to improve his English skills to such an extent that he could go and work somewhere else, such as in England. Returning back to Solun by bus was not problematic as far as my passport was concerned. I was apprehensive about this until I got through the “Greek” borders.
    From Solun we traveled to Lerin. I tried to locate a house near one of the bridges along the river, where my mother and I stayed overnight when we were destitute after our village was destroyed in the Greek Civil War. I would have been well under 4 at the time. I believe I found the house and took a photo of it, but I am not sure it was the right one. Distant relatives lived there at the time. I believe they later migrated to Australia.
    We did touristy things and wanted to rent a car so we could visit Macedonian villages, but it was impossible to do so, as there were insufficient cars for rental. Therefore we depended on walking, taxis and busses. However, I read that Greece has the highest car accident rate in the world. Considering this, we were not too disappointed at not driving around. We used Lerin as a base while we traveled to the villages. It appeared that there were a lot fewer busses going to the villages now, than what I remembered on my previous trip, about 25 years ago.
    One transport information office was staffed by very arrogant Greeks, giving conflicting information, very loudly. With obvious disdain for anyone who did not speak fluent Greek. We did tourist things in Lerin. On very rare occasions we heard Macedonian being spoken there and certainly not once in Solun or later in Kostur. This was a disappointing.
    I noticed street and road name signs in Lerin indicated “The Hellenic City” on them. Total time spent here was one week. We caught a taxi to Krpeshina, a place I lived in from around perhaps age 3 to 7. We visited two houses that my mother and I lived in, with relatives. Both houses are now abandoned and falling. Amazingly several villagers recognized me, even though I was very young when I left. We reminisced. I felt sad as they did for our tragic history and our losses and suffering. I felt especially sad to have been deprived of my father due to him being killed during the Greek Civil War. They were very difficult times.
    I visited my first school. I had memories of starting school and from the very first day being expected to speak Greek. Greek teachers were sent to the villages to teach Macedonian children Greek. I learnt quite quickly but I understand children who did not were punished by the teachers, especially the boys.
    To my great pleasure there was to be a dance on one of the evenings, which was to be held in the school yard. I love dancing and it reminded me of when as a small child I danced in the school yard. On a couple of occasions I remember as a child being propelled from the “pashka’ (tail) end of the dance, to lead the dances, because I danced so wholeheartedly and with such passion. What was amazing about the dance on this day was that Macedonian songs were sung in “Macedonian”. I was told that in the past, this was not allowed by the Greeks. Now I understand that the villagers no longer cared about what the Greeks wanted. They had been intimidated enough. I sensed contempt for the Greeks. Many of the lyrics of the songs were quite political. I wish that I had tapes of some of the songs that the band were playing and singing. About 1,000 people were present from surrounding regions. It was interesting to see so many cars in a place where I only remember donkeys used as transport.
    I visited Krpeshina on two occasions and met many people there. They said that, not many of the people who left to migrate overseas returned for visits. I got the impression that they felt like the forgotten people. Some were perplexed as to why I chose to visit. Especially as I no longer had living relatives there. My Macedonian was adequate enough in this area to be able to communicate reasonably well. Not so however later in Skopje.
    From Krpeshina we walked to Neret, it was extremely hot. It was about a 45 minute walk. Later I learned that not long ago a bear was seen standing in the middle of the very road that we walked on. At a later stage on our way to Zhelevo, we saw a sign saying “Beware of Bears”. I tried to locate some relatives who I visited on my previous trip to Neret, 25 years ago. I was informed that the remaining living relatives had moved to Lerin. I caught up with them later. I talked to some locals and met a man who knew not only my father, but his father (my grandfather). He organized for someone to take us to Bapchor.
    As I was too young to remember Bapchor when I lived there as a small child, this was a very interesting experience for me. The church was rebuilt, I believe, by Stace Zaikov, a Bapchorian. Unfortunately the church was closed for fear of damage to it. I thank Mr Zaikov for rebuilding the church. No one has lived in Bapchor since its total destruction. Babchor is built on a mountain side. The ruins of the school are still visible, but the remains of the houses are almost covered by vegetation, as the area is completely overgrown. All 180 plus houses and a population of 1,000 or more no longer exist in the village. Many were killed during the war and those still living are scattered around the world. The houses in Bapchor were three storey with the animals housed on the ground floor, especially for their survival during the cold winters. On the front of the now rebuilt church there is plaque, with the names of the people who lost their lives in the civil war, including that of my father.
    The gravestones and cross markers with people’s names in the cemetery behind the church, I was informed, were purposely broken up by the Greeks, so that they could not be read and identified. Due to the damage to the graves and the overgrowth, it was impossible to find any graves of my ancestors. I feared venturing too far due to the possibility of there being snakes in the long grass. What a sad thing it was for people to lose their homes, orchards, animals and family members.
    Getting to Bapchor was quite difficult, and took perhaps an hour or more by car. I also visited Lagen briefly. I was informed that only 6 families live in this village now. Villages being emptied of their inhabitants was unfortunately common. I certainly felt a connection to Bapchor, Krpeshina and Macedonia generally. We had a picnic in Bapchor on top of the destroyed village and outside the church. I tried to absorb everything about the trip and my experiences. But generally visiting this part of Macedonia was quite emotional and overwhelming. I visited several other villages in this region including that of an uncle that I did not know that I had. There was much discussion about relatives and our history. It does not seem that life in the villages has changed much. Life is basic, the older people are still with donkeys, goats etc. Many younger people have moved to the cities like Lerin for work.
    I was told that though Macedonians in this region have a few more rights now than in the past, the Greeks still pedal their propaganda, especially through the very young in schools. The assumption is that the Greeks are waiting for the present older generations of Macedonians, those who know the real history and have lived through it and experienced the difficult periods, to die out. Then they believe the Greek mentality will pervade. They would have convinced all Macedonians that they are Greek. But I wonder if they have convinced God of this. He knows the truth about our history. How do the lies about Macedonia sit with their consciences? I wonder do the lies that they tell about Macedonia ever cross their minds while they are in church, supposedly being good honest Christians?
    As far as Grkomani are concerned, some no doubt are. Others while still staunch Macedonians, compromise to some extent, to ensure that their children are not mistreated and can secure decent jobs.
    Prior to leaving Lerin I visited Vinozhito. I had the pleasure of meeting Mariana and Pavle. We discussed my trip and matters relating to the struggle of the Macedonians of this area. I also collected two books on their work and the ABECEDAR in Macedonian Cyrillic. This was a pleasant visit. They are doing a great job.
    After leaving Lerin we headed towards Zhelevo by taxi. Our accommodation here was a bit out of the town. That evening we walked to the township. We met a lady who told us that in the past there were 1,700 people in Zhelevo, now only about 70. She also told us not to walk too close to the buildings, as they are crumbling and stones are falling down. There was certainly evidence of this and we were more careful for the rest of our walk. There was not very much to do where we were staying. There did not seem to be other guests in the cabins. I believe it is busier in winter as people stay here to go skiing. I was impressed by the elderly Macedonians in the villages, as they were very friendly and open about sharing their histories. Of course their histories are very much like mine and others of that time. With the exception that they are older and had a lot of first hand experiences, as well as their memories to share.
    On another day we decided to go to Prespa, which is beautiful. The taxi left us at Agios Germanos. I do not know how this area got its name or its Macedonian name. This area seemed very fertile with beans and eggplants growing. Generally we walked between the villages, found a place to have lunch and visited the Prespa Information Centre, which had information on the preservation of the lakes and wildlife in the area. We spent a day here and on the way back, I asked the taxi driver to drop us in Oshchima for a while. This driver was Greek and tried to discourage us from seeing the village, as he said there was nothing there. However I insisted. We got off in the middle of the township near the post office, had a walk around and talked to a villager who came out.
    I explained that there was a book on Oshchima and I have read information on the village, that was why I was interested in visiting. He said others have stopped to see the village for the same reason. I took some photos and had a look around. Because of the heat there were not many people around. I was told that in the past the population would have been about 1,300, now only 30. The village was like many other sad Macedonian villages. I would have liked to have spent more time here without the taxi driver waiting for us, especially in the coolness of the evening.
    My initial plan was to walk from where we were staying, to Zhelevo and then to Oshchima. But I was told that this was dangerous, as there are a lot of wild dogs around. I am particularly scared of dogs, as I was severely bitten at about age 6 in Krpeshina. That is why we relied on a taxi for transport to Oshchima.
    We left Zhelevo sooner than we planned and got a taxi to Kostur. The road was good without too much traffic. We settled into the hotel then decided to explore the city. We also found two tourist offices within close proximity to each other. We were given directions, maps and pamphlets, all in English. We walked around the lake, which was green with possibly algae, had lunch and explored the city. We went to a church and lit candles. I could not help thinking of the importance of Kostur to my origins. As possibly this would be where there would be records of not only my birth, but if not destroyed, all the records of my forebearers. Nevertheless with only a few days here, it was not the right time to seek such information. I did not hear the Macedonian language spoken anywhere in Kostur. People asked me frequently as to where I was from. I said that I was from a village close by, which is now destroyed and uninhabited, as I did not want to use the Greek name.
    One lady insisted on the name of it, not thinking that she would know the village by its original “Bapchor” name I said that the Greeks now call the village ……, giving the new name. She did not know it by the “new” Greek name, but certainly knew the original name. But instead of calling it Bapchor she called it Bapchori. Which I know in the past, was the Greek modification of the original name. This incident stayed in my mind, in particular because of my later experiences at the Greek border control, on my way to the Republic of Macedonia.
    We got on the ferry on the Kostur lake and saw the mountain Vicho, from many directions. The temperature was pleasant unlike the heat we experienced previously. The city seemed nice and clean, especially in comparison to Athens. The people seemed to have a different character here, especially in comparison to those living in Athens. Generally the further north of Athens the more people seemed to be calmer, less loud and frantic and more dignified.
    We saw an interesting fortress wall and a lot of old churches. There were many restaurants around the lake and a lot of furs in shop windows. We visited museums and talked to the locals. I wanted to meet some Macedonians, to discuss the area and what life was like here, but the opportunity did not arise. We caught a local bus to see the local villages, stopped in one called Mavrohori, in Greek. We were only 3 days in this area. This did not seem enough time for what the city has to offer. Generally it appeared that Greece has done a reasonable job of Hellenizing the city. No doubt there are pockets of staunch Macedonians here but I did not find any in my short visit. We caught a bus and then changed busses to return to Lerin. It was nice going through the villages by bus. However it felt very hot in the bus, it did not seem to have any air conditioning and we were concerned about some of the unsafe practices. Such as the driver driving too close to other vehicles and talking on the mobile phone while carrying a bus full of passengers.
    We arrived in Lerin and met with our prearranged taxi driver to take us through the border into the Republic of Macedonia. Not all taxi drivers can do this, as they require an up to date passport to go through the borders. I was told that the Greeks try to frustrate people from these regions in their attempts to get passports, by delays and expenses. I was informed that many people would like to visit the Republic of Macedonia for many reasons, including shopping, but this was not easy from the Greek side.
    I was hot and tired after my long bus trip from Kostur to Lerin and apprehensive about going through the “Greek” border control. At the Greek border, our taxi driver (a Macedonian) took my and my partner’s passports, while we stayed in the taxi, to take to the border control guards/officers. The return of the passports was taking a very long time. I of course knew that it was my passport that was problematic. I can see the taxi driver animatedly talking to the border control officers. Later I learnt that he was trying to get them to let me through. I was told that they wanted to know how I got in the country. After an uncomfortable long period I saw the driver come to my side of the taxi. He told me that he tried to convince them to let me go through but was not able to do so, despite the currant state of Bapchor. They insisted that they wanted to see me and directed him to bring me to them. They asked the taxi driver if I knew any Greek. He said “No” but he will translate for me in English.
    Generally they told me that they were not happy with my passport, that it was incorrect. They directed me to change the name of the village of my birth, on it. That unless I do so, I will not be allowed back into Greece again. Stressing this point. There were two officers, the elder looked at my eyes and face intently. I do not know what he made of my blue eyes and fair skin. I just looked blankly at them. Too tired to argue, knowing that no good will come of it. In my mind I had visions of the sorry state of my village, where once it was full of life and beauty. Especially known for being progressive for its time, and the beauty of the young women, many who later died as partisans.
    At the border control there were posters of what I assume were wanted and dangerous people. I could see the stupidity of stopping a mature aged woman, a professional with no police record like myself, as if indeed I was a criminal. Wanting me to falsify my Australian passport. Trying to intimidate me into putting “their” new imposed Greek name on my passport. All this fuss about a village that they destroyed. Robbing me of a home and birthplace and especially of a father. With his remains and that of other young Macedonians scattered in the mountains where they died. What utter nonsense about the name of my birthplace on my passport. When even some of their own Greek people do not know the village by the Greek name. Instead many know it as Bapchor or Bapchori. I wonder for how much longer will this nonsense continue? When will the world wake up to the truth of what we Macedonians have experienced and are still experiencing. When will the truth of our history be acknowledged?
    On my original Greek passport the name of the village of my birth is indicated as “Bapchori”. I and others from Bapchor have always known the village as Bapchor. With the change of the names of the villages to Greek names, Greece is trying to hide the truth. The fact that the village is now destroyed by the Greeks and emptied of its people, makes the insistence on the Greek name particularly cruel. Having taken everything from us, now they are trying to misconstrue and rob us of our memories.
    In the past many people from Aegean Macedonia would have traveled to new countries bearing the original Macedonian names of their villages, as their place of birth on their passports. These people when returning to their homeland, if like me, do not want to accept the new Greek name on their current passports, can if they wish have a copy of their original passport with them. To show at the border, should they experience difficulties. After all the Greeks cannot deny the passports that they themselves issued. However please note I said copies not the original, to avoid the passport being defaced or destroyed. I am told that the border control guards are not above doing this, if they do not like what is written.
    The border control officer of the Republic of Macedonia was perhaps wondering as to what was happening at the Greek border. No doubt he could see our vehicle stationary there for a long period. What “criminal’ did the Greek police manage to catch? The taxi driver, when we approached the border, as he handed over our passports must have mentioned to him what happened at the Greek border. Here our passports were quickly stamped and returned to us. I waved to the border guard from the taxi. He returned my wave. I felt immediately safer. Then I saw the current Macedonian flag. At last I felt that I could relax. We proceeded to Bitola.
    By LG
    The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!
  • The LION will ROAR
    Senior Member
    • Jan 2009
    • 3231

    #2


    I was born in 1924 in the village Gradche, Aegean Macedonia.
    My father, my mother, my grandparents from both sides and the rest of the families were born under the Ottoman occupation and they were badly suppressed and when the Ottoman Empire collapsed we thought that the people would have a bit more freedom and a bit more choice for a better life but unfortunately this did not happen.
    My father left for Australia when I was about a year old. My grandparents, I remember, they used to put me on the knee and they used to say to me “Sinko” in Macedonian of course, “Nikogash nema da zaboravish sho nie sne Makedontsi. Nito Grtsi, nito Bulgari, nito Serbi, nito Albantsi.” [Little son, never forget that we are Macedonians. Not Greeks, not Bulgarians, not Serbians, not Albanians.] They were the words of my grandparents from both sides.
    My mother, my grandparents from both sides, could not speak a word of Greek. The only language they spoke was Macedonian, and also Turkish during the Ottoman occupation.
    During my youth... I can close my eyes now and picture the village the way it was, a small river dividing the upper and the lower village, and a hill to the west which is called Sveti Ilia and a little church up the top there and also a spring which was flowing out from the mountains. The water from that spring, summer and winter, was absolutely wonderful to drink and very very cool.
    How strong was your parent's sense of their Macedonian identity?
    My father, my mother and also the other relatives, every one of them, my uncle, everyone of them, felt that they were Macedonian but nothing else. Irrespective of what was taking place in the Balkans.
    Can you tell us about your childhood in the village?
    My childhood in the village was a very happy one because I had a lot of relatives and also young relatives who were my age and some a bit older. We had a wonderful time. At the age of six or going towards six and a half/ seven, we were forced to go to Greek school. We were not allowed to speak anything but Greek. If you were heard speaking Macedonian by the police or Korofilatsi as they called them in Macedonian, you were taken and punished. Even at the age of seven. As I grew older and older, I felt that our people were severely suppressed. They were not allowed to speak in Macedonian, sing in Macedonian or dance. The church services which were previously in Macedonian were forbidden. They were only allowed to have the sermons in Greek, in no other language. Even if people spoke to the animals in Macedonian they were taken to court and they were fined heavily and in some cases they were even gaoled.
    Things got worse and worse. My father was in Australia and we were in Macedonia. Life was beginning to get worse and worse because of the suppression that was carried out. At that particular time the prime minister of Greece was Venizelos. He put through legislation, draconian measures, which were anti-Macedonian. We thought he was bad but eventually he was replaced by Metaxas - who was a straight out fascist, he idolized Hitler, and he put through even worse legislation for the suppression of Macedonians.
    How did your family make a living?
    In those days, as I mentioned before, my father had come to Australia and my father used to send us some money so we were reasonably well off in comparison to the other villagers. We also had our plots of land which we could not work on but my uncles from both sides, they used to till the land and we used to get some of the products from it. So we lived reasonably well in comparison to the rest of the villagers.
    Was Gradche a Macedonian village and what were the other villages nearby?
    The villages nearby were Drenichevo which the Greeks changed the name to Kranohori; Chuka, they couldn't change it to anything else but to call it Chuka. Stensko, they couldn't name it, and they couldn't call it in Macedonian, so they changed the name from Stensko to Stena; and Tikveni, Tiolista, Papresko, Dumbeni, Kosenets, they are in the area of our village. During the Ottoman occupation our village was virtually a centre. 99.99 per cent of the people in the village were pro Macedonians and there's proof of that. During the years that went by, there were virtually no traitors in the village, so the villagers have lived a happy life.
    How did the Ottomans treat your family?
    Well, my grandparents and my mother and father, they said that during the Ottoman occupation they were actually better off than when Macedonia was divided into four parts. The Greek suppression was by far, by far, worse than the Ottoman suppression.
    As far as you are aware was there ever a Macedonian school in the village?
    As far as I am aware I believe that there was a Macedonian school in the village during the Ottoman occupation but after that this was forbidden by the Greeks.
    But was it a school, or were there just teachers?
    More or less teaching, yes, Macedonian teachings there.
    But not a school building?
    Not a school building as such. The Macedonian language was not prohibited by the Ottoman occupiers.
    Was there a Macedonian church in the village?
    Yes, there was a Macedonian church. As a matter of fact there were four – one main church, Sveti Naoum, was in the village, and there were about three smaller ones in the hills: Sveti Bogorodica, Sveti Ilia, and Sveti Nikola, they were the other three.
    And what happened to those churches?
    Unfortunately the icons were taken away by the Greeks. My father and my grandparents used to tell me that there were a lot of icons with Macedonian writing on them. I don't know exactly what happened to them, but apparently the Greeks took them away and they replaced them with icons with Greek writing.
    Were there Macedonian grave sites in the village?
    Yes, there were quite a number of them as a matter of fact. Not in one spot but there was about two or three spots and the scriptures on most of them were in Macedonian writing but unfortunately they were destroyed or replaced forcefully by the Greek regimes.
    You said that speaking Macedonian was prohibited under the Greek rule. What was your experience?
    During 1935 just before coming to Australia I spoke to my mother in Macedonian because my mother could only speak Macedonian and Turkish. A Greek policeman heard me and he reported me. What actually happened I was reported by the policeman to the teacher, and the teacher to make an example of me in front of the whole school, in front of all the pupils, said to me “You spoke that forbidden Bulgaromanski ezik” and I said “No, that's not Bulgaromanski, this is Macedonian”, “Makedonski ezik”. And in that case she said “Put your hands out” and she gave me ten strokes on each hand very very forcefully, and I couldn't close my hands for at least two or three weeks, they were swollen from the caning. I refused to cry and that was the reason I believe why I got the ten canes in each hand instead of the normal three.
    I was not the only one who was caned in the school, there were several others as well for the same reason. As you can see, there is no way that you could call this democracy or freedom and most of the people were unhappy of the situation that was taking place in the villages, not only in their village but in the villages around us as well.
    Why did you leave the village?
    My father was in Australia so he applied for us to come to Australia , and my mother, my sister and I came to Australia to join him. He was living in Perth .
    As I said before, my father left for Australia in late 1924-25. He came to Australia to earn money so he was sending it back to the village. He came back in 1931 and with the savings from Australia he built a two-storey home which was for us and his brother, that's my uncle. The house is still standing in the village. My father came back to Australia after a year and soon after that we came to Australia . That was in 1935 with an Italian ship which was called Asqualino. At that particular time there was a bit of a revolt in Greece between the Veninzelos group and the Metaxas group and we are caught in the cross-fire when we were at Port Piraeus, that's not far from Athens . That was the time when I met Ilia Malko, with his family; not his father though, because his father was in Australia like my father.
    Where did you live when you came to Australia and what was life like for the early Macedonian immigrants here?
    We arrived in Perth and my father was living in Perth . He had a very small business and there were not many Macedonians at that particular time. Things were very tough because the depression was on and a small number of Macedonians were in a very difficult situation because unemployment was very high and money was very tight. But also there was quite a lot of racism at that particular time in Australia . Even when I went to school there was racism amongst the children and some of the teachers, unfortunately. I was very fortunate to have a teacher called Mr De Garras and also a lady teacher. I'll never forget her. She was a tall lady, Crawford was her name, her brother was a tennis player. She had pitch black hair, blue eyes and was a wonderful person. They had a special class at the school called “Highgate Hill” mainly for new arrivals like Macedonians, Italians, Serbs, Croatians, Greeks etc.
    I went to school for three years and unfortunately my father passed away. So the burden was on my shoulders to look after my mother, who could not speak English and could not get a job anywhere, and my sister who is younger than me, to go to school. Things were very very tough.
    Some of us, the younger Macedonians who felt like Macedonians decided that we should form an organization or an association. We started to do that in late 1939. In Perth there were Bugaro-Makedontsi Organizatsi, Serbo-Makedontsi Organizatsi, Grko-Makedontsi Organizatsi but there was no clear Macedonian organization. So when we formed the organization we called it “Edinstvo”. “Makedonsko Edinstvo”. So the organization, the first one in Australia of true Macedonian background, was Edinstvo, Perth 1939-40. The main participants in the group were: Ilia Malko, John Pizarcoff, Naum Sharin; Vasil Boscov; Todor Petrov, who is my wife's father; Boris Mano, Naum Mano, Lazo Mano. Kiro Angelkov came into the organization later on, Stoian Sarbinov, he used to be at Manjimup, he came into the organization later on. Naum Kalchunov, a staunch Macedonian supporter. Stoiche Stoichev, who eventually went to Melbourne. There are many others, but I cannot remember all the names, who contributed towards the Macedonian cause in Perth. The organization took root and started to organize the Macedonian community. We had several picnics and we had virtually every Macedonian at the picnics. We also organized social evenings where we had Macedonian oro [dance], or Kolo if you like, and also Australian dancing.
    When and why did you become involved in Macedonian politics and community affairs?
    Well, as I mentioned, right from my early childhood my parents and my grandparents from both sides said we are Macedonians and nothing else, we can't be anything else. When we were in Perth, as I said, they had all these other organizations and we were the only ones who were not grouped together. So we believed, and we did, form the Macedonian organization in Perth, which was the first in Australia. And the main reason was to get our people together, to cement the roots; although we became Australian citizens, that we were of Macedonian descent, and we would never forget that.
    Can you tell us about the first meeting in Perth for the Makedonska Edinstvo?
    A group of us in 1939, most of us under the age of 20, decided to form the Macedonian organization in Perth which we called Edinstvo. Edinstvo was formed by about eight of us. Eventually we decided to call a meeting and the meeting was held at Ilia Malko's father's coffee shop or boarding house at 242 William Street, Perth. We decided to call the meeting there and we expected probably about 30 people to turn up. And much to our surprise and pleasure there was only standing room at the meeting. That was the beginning. The atmosphere was electric, great enthusiasm and great expectations were expected. The committee was elected, four members were selected to work on the constitution. The next committee meeting was held within a week. A mass meeting was called and the name Edinstvo was unanimously adopted. Edinstvo was inseparable with Iskra, that's the Macedonian paper, which ignited the Macedonians to unite throughout Australia.
    The slogan was Slobodna, Nezavisna , Ednokupna Makedonia [Free, Independent, United Macedonia]. Makedonia za Makedontsite [Macedonia for the Macedonians] as phrased by the late 19 th Century British prime minister Gladstone.
    What do you think Edinstvo achieved?
    Edinstvo was, I would say without hesitation, cemented the spreading of Macedonian organizations throughout Australia. So in my opinion it was the beginning of a true Macedonian movement in Australia, politically and also socially.
    What other organizations were there?
    Well as Edinstvo progressed and we got more and more of our people to join us, and virtually I would say that 99 per cent joined us. We formed a dancing group which was in Macedonian, and also in English; we also formed a Macedonian musical group which helped a lot with the Macedonian traditions regarding songs and dances; and a soccer team. And I believe that was one of the main reasons that the organization went ahead, although there were not many Macedonians in Perth at that particular time. But we were united.
    Other groups formed in Melbourne, Adelaide, Sydney, Crabbs Creek and Queanbeyan in NSW, and others
    During the Second World War you served in the Australian Air Force. Tell us your experiences?
    During the Second World War many of the Macedonian younger people in Perth joined the services, Ilia Malko and I were I believe the first two to join the Australian Air Force. There were others who followed and quite a number of the Macedonians were also in the Army and also some were in the Working Force. Every Macedonian contributed towards the war effort to defeat Fascism and Nazism that was spreading its wings and causing a lot of problems. Of course later on, as you know, Japan joined the Axis forces and bombed Pearl Harbour etc and we were in a very serious situation.
    I joined the Air Force in mid 1942 in Perth. I did three months basic training which was a toughening up course at Busselton. When that was over I did a short course in Perth then I was sent to Sydney to do a course on electronics. I was quartered at Bondi and did the course at the Ultimo Technical College which lasted several months. Having reasonably good results on the exams I was directed to do a higher course on high frequency radio in Melbourne. We were stationed at the Melbourne Exhibition Buildings at Fitzroy. The technical college was due west from there. I was there for several months also.
    But let's have a look just what happened before I got to Sydney. When I reached Melbourne I asked to have leave for about ten days, it was during Macedonian Easter. I was looking for a Macedonian who used to live in Perth, his name was Stoiche Stoichev , and his family. Stoiche Stoichev was one of the most staunchest Macedonian supporters and a very close friend from Perth. I dropped off at the railway station in Melbourne and being a stranger to Melbourne I went straight to the police station. I walked in, and as soon as I walked in the sergeant at the reception there said “What can I do for you, blue orchid”, because normally they used to call the servicemen in the Air Force blue orchids because of the uniform. I said “I've come here looking for a friend of mine. He used to live in Perth.” And I gave him the name, Stoiche Stoichev. I said “A Macedonian.” He said “As you know, Melbourne is a city of over 2.5 million people. It's not an easy place to know who and where they are.” I said “Do you know of any Macedonians at all?” He said “Yes, we know of a Macedonian who's got a hamburger bar in Queen Street”. And that was the first time that I met Risto Altin. I said to the policeman “Well, look I'm a stranger, I don't know where this place is, how will I get there?” He looked at me, and he said “Being in the Air Force, we'll do something for you”. I said “What can you do for me?” he said “We'll take you there”. So they put me in a police car, myself and two policemen, and we went straight to Risto Altin's hamburger bar. When the police car stopped there and I got out and the police stood by. It must have been a shock to Risto Altin and his partner. When I walked in and I said to him “Dali ste vie Makedontsi?. Are you Macedonian?” he said “Yes”. And I said “Do you know a man called Stoiche Stoichev?” Risto Altin's eyes lit up and he said “Of course I know him,” he said. “He's a good Macedonian.” So I said to Risto “I'll thank the policemen who brought me here and I'll come back”. I thanked the two policemen who brought me there and I stayed with Risto Altin and I said to him “I want you to take me to Stoiche Stoichev”.
    Eventually we went to Stoiche Stoichev. We hadn't seen each other for about four or five years. So I went back to the railway station with the intention of leaving but on second thoughts I thought we are close to the Macedonian Easter, maybe I should stay there. Risto Altin and Stoiche Stoichev came with me to the station and they implored me to stay there for the Macedonian Easter. So I decided to stay. I was invited to the Easter Vecherinka or gathering they had. It was in Fitzroy in Gertrude Street, first floor up, Only a very small hall, it was packed with Macedonians, young and old. Risto Altin and Stoiche Stoichev made a few short speeches and they insisted that I say something to the young people there and the old people. Being in uniform, it was more or less unbelievable that a Macedonian was in the Air Force. I got up and said a few words in Macedonian and also a few words in English and I asked the Macedonian people to stay united and we would achieve something. I stayed in Melbourne for about eight days. My leave time expired. I had to depart for Sydney but I enjoyed the evening and I will never forget the way I was received by the Macedonian people in Melbourne.
    What happened then?
    Actually, as I said, I was going all the way to Sydney. On completion of the course in Sydney I was transferred to Melbourne. On completing the course on high frequency radio, from Melbourne I was sent back to Perth on pre embarcation leave. I was home for only a week and from there went to Darwin, then a place called Batchelor , approximately 30 kilometres south of Darwin. Darwin had been bombed by the Japanese. Australia suffered a number of casualties but also quite a number of ships were sunk in the harbour. Batchelor was a very large base and the Japanese had tried to bomb Batchelor on a number of occasions but they couldn't locate it because of the low cloud or actually you could say perpetual fog. Once you got to about 10,000 feet up you cannot see the ground. Soon after that I was posted to Dutch Timor. The Japanese had surrendered and I was at Dutch Timor at the Panfooi Air Strip working on radio transmitters.
    As the war had finished and virtually all servicemen were on their way home, I was put on a plane from Timor back to Darwin. I was in Darwin for about eight or nine days and from Darwin I came to Sydney with a ship called Menora, which was a cargo ship but it had been converted to a troop carrier with a couple of guns in front. I arrived in Sydney in April 1946. It was very cold. I felt very cold because of the tropical conditions we were at before. I stayed in Sydney for approximately a week. There were some Macedonians in Katoomba so I decided to see them. One of them became my future brother-in-law, by the name of Jim Bonakey. I came back to Sydney and then from Sydney went to Melbourne. I met Macedonians again in Melbourne. We had a few discussions regarding the organizations. Risto Altin was very enthusiastic about spreading the organizations throughout Australia. Stoiche Stoichev, Todor Petrov and many others. From there I went to Adelaide and I met former friends who used to live in Perth, Vasil Boscov and his brother. I asked them how would they feel to form a Macedonian organization in Adelaide and they said they were willing to do it and soon after they formed the branch in Adelaide.
    So, back to Perth. As soon as I got back to Perth I participated in the activities of the Macedonian group Edinstvo. Soon we decided to have a radio session and after some discussion etc I was elected to be the speaker on the radio. It was a Labor station. The first session was on a Wednesday from quarter past seven till half past seven. I spoke in English on the Macedonian question - about the Macedonians in the Balkans and about the Macedonians in Australia. This caused havoc amongst the Greeks - they got a shock. And in Perth most of the Greeks came from one particular area, an Island called Castelorizo. They protested to the radio station and they even threatened us for putting on these radio sessions. These radio speeches continued for several weeks and eventually we decided that we'd have a paper as well. So Makedonska Iskra was born.
    Why was Makedonska Iskra launched and what did it achieve?
    Well, in those days the only paper that the Macedonians received was an American paper and I think it was Tribuna. And it was a pro Bulgarian paper. The Greeks had their own paper there, the Serbs had their own paper there, the Croats had their own paper there, the Italians had their own paper there, and we were the only ones without a paper or a journal of any kind to inform our people of what was going on. When Makedonska Iskra was published the first time, the people received it with great enthusiasm. Although it was not professionally done because we had never published a paper before, the people were thrilled. We posted a number of copies to Melbourne, Adelaide, Sydney, Canberra and, as a matter of fact, we posted some copies overseas as well. To places like Skopje and other countries: Canada, United States of America. It was the beginning of the expansion of the Macedonians in Australia and Makedonska Iskra played a vital part to awaken the people of Macedonian origin in Australia.
    Who was behind the publication of the newspaper?
    Behind the publication was Ilia Malko, Stoian Sarbinov, Kiro Angelkov, Naum Sharin and myself. The first issue was published in Macedonian and also in English. And as I said it was very successful and the people accepted it enthusiastically.
    Also with the Macedonian Spark or Makedonska Iskra as we called it, it was very important to have it published in Australia, because as events took place there was no other way to inform the Macedonians in say Adelaide, Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra, wherever they were. By publishing the paper, which was eagerly received and was passed from person to person so they could read and see what was happening. So it played a vital role to get our community together. Soon after that we launched a special campaign to get money to build a hospital in the Republic of Macedonia. In a very short time we managed to open branches throughout Australia. As a matter of fact within nine months we had 53 branches in Australia.
    Were they Edinstvo branches?
    No. Edinstvo was the original one and we gradually spread out.
    But what sort of branches were they?
    Actually we also formed an organization called Macedonian Australian People's League. And that was the main body or central body. Edinstvo was the body in Perth. When we formed this other organization, it spread throughout Australia and the branches were actually members of this organization, Makedono Avstraliski Naroden Sojuz.
    So when we decided to collect this money for the hospital, a committee was formed in Perth and also committees were formed in Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney etc. In a very very short time we managed to collect £ 11,500. In those days, I'm talking about 1947, in Perth with eleven and a half thousand pounds you could have bought at least 20 three bedroom homes. So you can see, it's not the amount of money but the value. Our people were so enthusiastic. Although they were not financially well off, but they gave whatever they could. The money was collected and eventually sent to Skopje. We had receipts from the Red Cross. The way it was sent, also from the banks, and also acknowledged by the government of Skopje. So this is documented and I believe that the money was used together with the money that was sent from Canada and the United States of America and other places to build a wing at the Skopje Hospital.
    Makedonska Iskra was published just after the start of the Greek Civil War and the simultaneous Macedonian War of Independence in Aegean Macedonia. How strong was the Macedonian desire for freedom?
    The Macedonian desire for freedom was terrific, not only in one part of Macedonia but the total part of Macedonia - because as you know Macedonia was divided into four parts under Greeks, Bulgarians, Serbs and part of it under Albania - so we were thrilled that we thought that this war could be won, with the communists and the other groups that were fighting in the civil war, and we were promised complete freedom. But unfortunately, in my opinion, I believe that some of the communists in Greece, in Bulgaria and even the Serbs were not honest enough and did not carry out the promises that they promised the Macedonian people. But the spirit of the Macedonian people in Australia was extremely high and I believe that the spirit in Macedonia itself was very high - hoping that at last we'll have a free Macedonia to be friends with all our neighbours. None of the Macedonian people wanted to be enemies with either Bulgarians, or the Greeks or the Serbs or the Albanians.
    How did the Macedonians in Greece divide in terms of those who fought for an independent Macedonia, those who fought for communism, and those who did not fight?
    I would say that the majority of the Macedonians, in Aegean Macedonia especially, all believed and fought for an independent Macedonia. I would say that at least 80-90 per cent of the people thought that way and believed that way and fought for this particular reason. The people who didn't fight probably were too old or didn't understand what was going on and they took no action. Unfortunately the greatest losses during that particular time were in Aegean Macedonia and the areas which suffered the most would be Kostursko okolia and Lerinska okolia. Many of the villages especially in the Kosturska okolia were devastated. Whole villages were either burnt by incendiary bombs, napalm bombs, that the children and the inhabitants had to flee the villages to save their lives. To me it's a tragedy that the world does not recognize or want to recognize; it's very sad.
    Were the Greek communists sincere in their promise of an autonomous Macedonia within Greece or did they trick and betray the Macedonians?
    I believe that's a very tricky question to answer accurately, but I do honestly believe that some of the true communists in Greece were sincere when they said they would give the Macedonians autonomy under Greece, but there were the others who were traitors, they used the Macedonians to do their hard battles and that's where the losses were very great and our people suffered heavily and paid the penalty for trusting people who they shouldn't have trusted. As you know, the war carried on and as I said before many many Macedonian villages were completely obliterated by Napalm bombs and also other bombings as well. The villagers had to flee, even today if you go to these areas of Kosturska okolia and Lerinska okolia, many of the villages are completely deserted.
    You were also one of the founders of the Macedonian Australian Ex-Servicemen's League. When did this form and what did it achieve?
    The Macedonian Australian Ex-Servicemen's League was formed in late 1947 and the founders were Ilia Malko, myself, and several others. It was a membership throughout Australia of Macedonians who were in the services. The main aim of that was to keep in touch and to help with any other work that was necessary. It was a voice that could be heard and it was a voice that did carry some weight when speaking to government officials. The Macedonian Australian Ex-Servicemen's League is still active. It was active been 1999 and 2003 when we took action against a Greek paper in Sydney which printed some nasty material which was provocative, which was not true and we took them to the Anti-Discrimination Board and Administrative Decisions Tribunal. We had reasonable success there, although we did not win the case, but this showed that we were prepared to fight for the rights of the Macedonians.
    In December 1947 you and your family left for an 11 month visit to the Republic of Macedonia. What was your purpose and what were your experiences there?
    As I mentioned before, the Macedonian nationalistic spirit was afire and I was one of them as well and also many other Macedonians. So in 1947, in December, my family and I returned to Macedonia on the ship Partizanka. There were 57 Macedonians aboard. 50 were Macedonians from Egejska (Aegean) Macedonia, Kosturska okolia and Lerinska okolia.
    The purpose was to help with the reconstruction of Macedonia, being trained technically in a position to help with radio, and it was one of the main reasons why I and the family went to Macedonia, in Skopje. We arrived there January 1948. It was winter time. We landed in Dubrovnik which is a tourist resort as most people know in the Adriatic Sea, Croatian territory. Dubrovnik had been devastated during the war but the people received us enthusiastically. We spent several days there. A delegation from Skopje came and met us and soon we boarded a train and we arrived in Skopje. I'll never forget it. It was winter, cold, but no snow. As we got off the train we had Macedonian flags. It was pouring rain and we marched from the railway station through the heart of Skopje to the Roman bridge, on the river Vardar. The streets were absolutely choc-a-bloc with people from Skopje receiving us. The rain didn't seem to worry them and it didn't seem to worry us; the spirit was so high, I'll never forget it. As I said, we marched with the Macedonian flag all the way from the railway station in pouring rain to the Roman bridge across the Vardar.
    How was the formation of the Republic of Macedonia seen by the Macedonians in Australia?
    Most Macedonians including myself, thought now this is the beginning, once we have a republic, which should be autonomous or free, then the push should come from there for the rest of Macedonia to be united. But unfortunately that did not eventuate and we feel betrayed, we feel let down by all the Balkan countries that promised us so much and gave the Macedonian people very little.
    What were your experiences in Skopje?
    After about two or three weeks being in Skopje I was allocated a job with a radio station in Skopje. The radio studio was in the heart of Skopje and the transmission station was about 10 kilometres outside Skopje. This transmitter was the most powerful and the best in the Balkans including Belgrade, Athens and Sofia and any other. It was used to transmit news throughout the Balkan areas. I enjoyed working in the radio station and also the radio studio. The group working there were terrific. One of the young boys, Blagoi Pekevski, was only about 20. His brother was a Secretary to the Minister for Agriculture in Skopje. He was a very proud young boy and a very good Macedonian. We met quite a number of people. There was one particular person I've got to mention who was from Canada. Her name was Mary Vasilova. She was a union delegate in Canada to the restaurant industry. She was a very bright young girl. We had quite a number of sessions talking about the Macedonian question. Also what we thought should happen to the Macedonians in Aegean Macedonia. She departed for Canada about six months later. I did not keep in touch with her and I don't know to this day whether this young lady is still alive or not.
    During my work in Skopje, when I was at the transmitting station, if I worked for three consecutive days it was classed as nine days, because you worked from eight o'clock in the morning till eight o'clock the next day – it was classed as three shifts although we did not work all the time, we had to have some sleep. That gave me the opportunity to travel throughout Macedonia and also through part of Serbia and Croatia. I went to Bitola and I had a look at the city or town of Bitola and also met some of the people there. In those days it was virtually impossible to travel freely because of the civil war. You had to have a special pass. I traveled with a British passport because in those days we had no Australian passports. I also went to a place called Bulkez, which is virtually on the border of Romania, Hungary and Serbia. At this particular place there were Greek and Macedonian partisans recovering from their wounds. It was virtually like a country within a country. They had their own money, they had their own hospitals, they had their own little factories and they also had schools there. There were quite a large number of young children, Macedonians and some Greeks as well. I met the committee there who welcomed me warmly. I stayed there for four days and then I came back to Skopje.
    For several weeks you visited Aegean Macedonia, what were your experiences?
    The experiences were devastating. I went down and the civil war was still in progress. I wanted to see my birthplace again, and I went down accompanied by experienced partisans who were Vera Baleva and Mihail Kermejidata , also Pascal Mitrovski from Chuka. They took me across the border. I accompanied them and eventually we reached our village but I was not able to get into the village. But I got as far as Sveti Ilia – which I mentioned in the earlier discussion, our little church was still there. From there I could virtually see with binoculars the village, people etc and also there were quite a few troops, Greek troops there, and they also had cannons there. It was very dangerous for me to venture into the village. Then we went to several other villages like Chuka and a few others as well and to my dismay I could see that the devastation amongst the Macedonian villages was very great. People had left the villages, children, elderly people, and they were crossing the border towards Albania, towards the Republic of Macedonia, and very few apparently, into Bulgaria.
    Now I only stayed in Aegean Macedonia for several days, not weeks, and eventually we got back. When I got back to Skopje I was able to get back to the job that I had. I met many of the young boys and girls who were going through Macedonia to the other republics like Czechoslovakia, Romania, even as far as Russia. They were the young children that were forced to flee their villages in the towns because of the terror and bombings etc.
    That's the detsa begaltsi [child refugees]?
    Yes, as we call it in Macedonian, detsa begaltsi, because I don't call it detsa begalstsi, I call it Detsa- forced -to-flee-their-homes-because-of-the-terrible-devastation. This was a tragedy to see hundreds and hundreds of young people, virtually barefooted young children, elderly people, virtually in rags and tatters fleeing their homeland. It was a devastating experience for me, I cried.
    Many of these people, youngsters and elderly people, you could call them refugees if you like, initially they were put into the Skopje stadium, the sports ground you could say. They were housed there for two or three nights. I visited them regularly. Then from there they were taken to a place called Matka. Matka is an area about 30 or 40 kilometres away from Skopje. It's a hydro centre, they have hydro electricity produced there, but there's also a number of monasteries there. So these people, these children and these elderly people in rags and tatters that needed clothing, also fumigating because they were full of lice, they were taken to these monasteries usually for about eight or ten days. They were fumigated, they were fed well, they were clothed and eventually they were put on their way to go to these other republics, which accepted them as refugees. It was heartbreaking to see all these young people go that way, without parents some of them, without a mother or a father. That's shocking.
    Soon after you decided to return to Australia. What did you do when you returned to Perth?
    We came back with the same ship that we came to Macedonia, with the Partizanka, but this time it was not a happy trip like the one when we were going there. There was a small number of people that were on the Partizanka and I was one of them with my family. From there we went to Malta and from Malta to Cyprus and from Cyprus to Australia. We stopped in Perth. My mother and my sister came to Sydney but I stopped in Perth because the people wanted me to tell them all about the situation in Macedonia. So a meeting was arranged in Perth for me. There were a large number of Macedonian people came to hear and to hear the truth about the situation in Macedonia. I also went to Manjimup. Another meeting was held there, the people were very enthusiastic to hear what was going on. Back to Perth for another meeting and from there to Kalgoorlie where a meeting was held and I also gave them the information of what was transpiring in the Republic of Macedonia and also of the tragedy of the civil war. From there I went to Adelaide, also a meeting in Adelaide. From there to Melbourne and eventually I came to Sydney where I have settled since then, since 1949. I've been active since returning from Macedonia in the Macedonian community and I am still active at my old age.
    You helped build the first Macedonian church in Sydney at Rosebery and later also at Cabramatta. What was your role and how did the project develop?
    Actually in Sydney we didn't have a Macedonian church and most of our people were going to weddings or christenings in Serbian, Russian or Greek churches because they were Orthodox. So we thought it was about time that the Macedonians in Sydney had their own church. In Melbourne a Macedonian church was already established. So we decided to build a church where it would be very central for the Macedonian community. We had a couple of meetings and in one of those meetings I was elected to be the president of the group with the plan to find a place and build a church for the Macedonians in Sydney. Before we built the church, there was a priest whose name was Mihail Gogov , he was also very active and participated with us. As a matter of fact he officiated in several sermons in Macedonian in the Catholic church and also a Church of England church in George Street. The people flocked to these sermons and we were thrilled with the response, so we decided it was definitely time to build a church in Sydney and we found a suitable place, which was at Rosebery. It was a Church of England church. The church was neglected because the parishioners from there had departed. So we got in touch with the Archbishop of the Church of England, his name was Gough. He was a fantastic person. Normally when you made an appointment to see the Bishop it was 10 to 15 minutes but our delegation, which included one of our bishops and Mihail Gogov and myself. We spent over one and a half hours with the Archbishop. He was exceptionally versed with the Macedonian history. As a matter of fact he knew more about the Macedonian uprising of Ilinden than I did; that was a surprise for me. He was a fantastic bloke, I'll never forget him. He helped us to negotiate to buy the church at Rosebery. As I said, it was only a very small church but in a very nice position with a park in front and a park behind with a reasonable amount of parking which helped us a lot.
    When we called a meeting to ask the people whether they agreed to buy the church property there or not, the response was terrific. The people unanimously decided that we should buy it and we called another meeting later on to collect the money. But in the meantime a group of two of us was elected to go and see the property managers of the Church of England in Sydney. We did that, it was only a verbal agreement or a contract you could say, the amount was just over $30,000, which was a very very good price for the property that we intended to build a new Macedonian church.
    There were no papers drawn, no contract drawn, just a verbal [agreement] and handshake to buy the property. The people who were very anti Macedonian - I'm not going to name any groups - we heard that they approached the Church of England property managers and offered them ten times more than the money we paid in order to stop us from having a Macedonian church. And what we did hear was this, that the people who managed the property of Church of England told them no money would change the contract; they would stick by their word because the Macedonians needed their church in Sydney.
    So, I was the first president elected by the people and we managed to get a certain amount of money and we borrowed a small amount of money from the bank. We bought the church and the people flocked to the church. There'd be big crowds of Macedonians going every Sunday. Weddings and christenings were performed. In a very short time we saved enough money to plan for the new church which is in the Rosebery property now. The cost was quite substantial. We tried to get different people such as architects to help us with the project and eventually, I must say this, it was a Serbian architect who gave us the best price to supervise the building of the church. Most of the other people including some Macedonians, what they asked was far too high. He supervised, planned and also attended every week, at least once, to supervise with the building. He only asked for $4,000, that was virtually a gift. So the church was built and within a short time we also had enough money to put a deposit and buy the property at Cabramatta. And eventually the property at Cabramatta was built and we had another church at Cabramatta.
    When the foundation stone was laid for Rosebery we had invited quite a number of prominent people in Sydney including government people, Premier of NSW, Neville Wran; Willis, the opposition leader of the Liberal Party; former Prime Minister Gough Whitlam, and we also invited other members from the federal parliament and they attended. But also we invited other religious bodies. A Catholic priest was there, and a Syrian priest was there, Antioch priest was there, but unfortunately the Serbians refused to participate and so did the Greeks. We invited them as a religious body, so we didn't worry too much about that. Eventually when the actual church was opened it was opened by the then Premier of NSW, Neville Wran. Federal members who attended were Mr Whitlam, and Mrs McKellar representing her husband who was a Minister. There were a lot of other dignitaries from the state and federal sphere. It was a great day for the Macedonian people of Sydney to have their own church which eventually proclaimed a cathedral.
    I would also like to mention some of the Macedonian activists who helped build the Rosebery and Cabramatta churches: Dragan Razmovski, the second elected president; Kire Razmovski, a very staunch supporter; Todor Vlashis and his wife Elena, who both ceaselessly helped in the church for many years; Elena Kochofska, Mito Marinovski; Peter Marinovski, son of Mito; Slave Ristevski; Bill Velevski; and many others who contributed financially and physically. Thank you all.
    You knew many of the first Macedonian activists in Australia. Who do you think were the key activists and can you tell us a little bit about each one?
    First and foremost let us talk about Ilia Malko. Ilia Malko was my very closest friend. We came to Australia together on the same ship and we remained friends till his passing away. I would say that he contributed more than any other Macedonian in Australia to the Macedonian movement. He gave everything towards the Macedonian cause. He believed that Macedonians should live free, as many of us did as well. Unfortunately we lost Ilia Malko roughly about eight years ago.
    Risto Altin: he'd be another one who has contributed vastly to the Macedonian cause, he was in Melbourne; and Kiro Angelkov and several others.
    Now Ilia Malko was involved right from the very beginning in Perth in the organization Edinstvo, also the Macedonian Spark, Makedonska Iskra, and also in the formation of the Ex-Services League, Macedonian Australia Ex Servicemen's League. Also the Macedonian Australian People's League, which functioned and also helped a lot towards the unity of the Macedonians.
    Risto Altin was in Melbourne and as mentioned before I met Risto Altin in late 1942. He was involved in all the Macedonian activities in Melbourne. He was also involved in the Macedonian Spark, as the Macedonian Spark eventually was transferred from Perth to Melbourne. He was also involved with the Macedonian church in Melbourne, in Gertrude Street. He was a staunch Macedonian and still is.
    Kiro Angelkov joined the association or Macedonian organizations in late '45, '46. He spoke better Macedonian than I or Ilia Malko. He was a very staunch Macedonian and he also helped with the Macedonian Spark and also with the organization, and also helped with the Macedonian hospital campaign.
    Stoian Sarbinov. Stoian Sarbinov was a man from a village called Buf, Egejska Makedonija. He was at Manjimup. Originally he opposed us in Perth because he didn't think that we would be sincere but eventually he came around and he was very very helpful and he also helped a lot in the Macedonian Spark, he helped with the printing, he helped put the paper together. He also took a very active part in human rights in Macedonian affairs throughout Australia. Unfortunately Stoian Sarbinov passed away about fifteen years ago. We lost another good supporter.
    Vasil Boscov, he was an elderly man, he passed away about 20 years ago. He was involved right from the beginning. I knew Vasil Boscov from Perth. I also knew Vasil Boscov when he went to Adelaide and also helped to form the Adelaide branch of the Macedonian Australian People's League. He participated in helping with the printing of the paper, he also helped with the other social activities and he also was a secretary for some time.
    Stoiche Stoichev. He was a very ardent, staunch supporter of the Macedonian cause throughout his life. He used to be in Perth at the beginning. He brought his wife and family from Macedonia, eventually transferred from Perth to Melbourne where he participated in all the activities of the Macedonian life. He passed away unfortunately several years back.
    Todor Todorov and his father, they were both from Pirinska Macedonia, from Macedonia under Bulgarian occupation and rule. Right from the beginning Todor Todorov and his father helped with the formation of Edinstvo, helped with the formation of the Macedonian Dancing Group and also helped with the social activities.
    John Pizarkov was one of the first that helped with the Macedonian Edinstvo in Perth. Eventually he joined the army. When he joined the army he was transferred to the eastern states and eventually settled in Sydney where he participated in helping with the Macedonian Spark and also the other social activities of Macedonians throughout Australia.
    Naum Sharin, an elderly person, a very nice person who passed away several years ago. He was one of the first to join the Macedonian Edinstvo in Perth. He helped when most of us were in the services - he was an elderly bloke - to keep the organization alive. We've got to say thank you to him for doing that.
    Boris Mano, he was a younger person from Macedonian Prespa under Albanian rule. He was one of the first members. He helped with the social life and social activities in Perth.
    Naum Mano, related to Boris Mano, he was also from Prespa, Albania. He was one of the first members to join the Edinstvo organization.
    Lazo, the brother of Naum, he was also a member right from the beginning, who helped the social life and also in helping with the paper.
    Naum Kalchunov, he used to be in a city or town called York, about 100 odd kilometres away from Perth. He was a staunch Macedonian supporter. He helped by donating quite a bit of money towards the Macedonian hospital and also towards the Macedonian Spark or Makedonska Iskra.
    There's also many others who at present have slipped my memory, so I must say without hesitation - without the mentioned people our organization would have been much poorer, so vechno da bidi pametot na ovie lugje koi se pochinati [long may we remember these people who have passed away].
    You went back to your village in 1983. How long were you there for and what did you see?
    Let me give you a brief outline before I went to the village. On a number of occasions I tried to go to my village, my birthplace, but unfortunately I couldn't get a visa. You're aware, the Greek government refuses a visa to anybody with a Macedonian name. As my name was changed from the Greek name, which they called Eliopoulos , back to the original and present name, Veloskey, I was refused entry.
    When Greece joined the European Community, like many other European community countries no visa was required. So the wife and I, without telling anyone except our family, decided to board the plane and we landed in Athens. It was five o'clock in the morning. I showed my passport to the person in charge of the entry into the airport, and he looked at it and on my passport it says my name, Michael Veloskey, “Born Macedonia”, nothing else. He was rather stunned. He looked at it and he kept on looking at it. And I said “What's the trouble? It's an Australian passport,” in English. He said in Greek “No understand English.” I said “Can you speak Greek?” He said “Yeah”. So I said “Yes,” I spoke to him in Greek, I said “this is an Australian passport. That's [refering to Macedonia] where I was born.” It was early in the morning. I think they hadn't checked up the blacklist of my name, because it was a different name altogether, and he let us through.
    We stayed in Athens for several days. We saw the ruins, the congestion and the smog. 1983 was a warmest summer in Europe for 300 years. Many people in Athens suffered badly from the pollution and also from the heat. After leaving Athens we decided to go to the village that I was born. To go there, I went to a small office asking them for two air fares to go to my village. The nearest airport was Rupishta, which is adjacent to Kostur. The person there stared at me in amazement. I said “Rupishta, don't you know where it is?” He said “No.” He said “Never heard of it”. I said “Well, unfortunately” I said, “the Greek governments have changed the names of virtually all Macedonian towns and villages” and I said “If you give me a map I'll show you”. So he gave me the map and I showed him where it was. It was under a different name. So Rupishta is not called Rupishta any more.
    Eventually he gave us two tickets, our tickets. We boarded the plane and we landed at Rupishta. It was a boiling hot day, the temperature was well over 45 °. We called a taxi. We got in the taxi and we asked him to get us into Kostur, as the Greeks call it Kastoria, to a nice hotel. He took us to a reasonably nice hotel with views of the lake. Kostur is a very very picturesque town with a population of approximately 20,000. Many of the people in the Kostur area were engaged in the fur industry, which was thriving but gradually diminishing.
    Anyway we settled in the hotel and eventually we called for a taxi to show us around. He was a Macedonian who spoke both Greek and Macedonian but he insisted to speak more Greek than Macedonian because he was one of the unfortunate boys. He lost his parents and the Greeks took him and they made him like a Yanitsar, Yanitsar means extremely pro Greek, they instilled… they brainwashed him. So we said to him “Would you like to drive us around for the next fortnight, around the villages?”. He agreed. We said “We'll pay you for the whole day, you take us there and back, and any spare time you can utilize it”. So we engaged him for a fortnight.
    We went to quite a number of villages, to the village that I was born, and as we drove through there, Dolna Mala, as we call it, I saw a man with a stick in his hand and he was walking slowly and he was cursing in Macedonian and Greek. I remembered the name, his name was Lazo. I was rather surprised to see him still alive because he would be in his 85s or 90s. So I said to the taxi driver “Pull up here”. He pulled up, the wife and I were both together in the taxi. I got out of the taxi and I said “Lazo, me poznavash mene?” [Lazo, do you remember me?] He looked at me. “Koi vrak si?” [in Macedonian “Which devil are you?”]. “Diavolos” [in Greek ‘Devil”]. I said “Eh, jus sum Makedonets. (Eh, I am a Macedonian]. And he looked at me and he looked at me and he couldn't make me out. I said “You don't remember.” I said “I left in 1935” and I told him who I was. He put his arms around me and he started to cry.
    And this particular man Lazo said “I'm going to stay with you all day today.” So we took him with us in the taxi and he took us to my home that my father had built there and it was occupied by my uncle and his family. Unfortunately my uncle was not there but only his wife was there and she welcomed us and she said that her husband, Risto, Chris, was going to be there late this afternoon or the next day. So I asked the taxi driver to drive us to Gorna Mala and that's where my aunty lived from my mother's side, Teta Zoia. She welcomed us there and she insisted that we stay there for the night. My uncle, her husband, was tilling the land. Her son was in Kostur and he was involved in the fur industry as well but he spent most of his time in Germany trading between Germany and Greece. So we stayed there for the night and her son came home and also the husband came home. We were welcome there, they made us stay there for the night, they gave us a very nice meal.
    So, the next morning the son was driving us down to Dolna Mala, to the house my uncle occupied, and as we were going down the hill on the road there was an elderly person with a walking stick coming up. That was my uncle Chris. So the driver said “Do you know who that man is?” I said “No.” He said “We'll stop here”. So we stopped, he got out, and he went to my uncle Chris, that's my father's brother, and he said to him “Imam eden chovek tuka koj te poznava tebe.” [“I have a man here who knows you.”] He said to my uncle “There's somebody with me in the car who recognizes you and knows you and is also your relative”. I got out of the car and I went to meet him there. He looked at me. To me he seemed to have shrunken a lot, because as we get older we always lose a bit of weight, but the thing that I'll never forget is his sparkling blue eyes. I've never seen eyes like that. Anyhow I explained to him who I was. He wrapped his arms around me and we both cried.
    Anyhow we had a bit of a talk and I asked him where he was going. He said he was going to do a bit of shopping in Gorna Mala, that's where the stores were. So we drove him there. We had a bit of a talk and we drove him back and when we got back to the house he said “The house is still half yours.” I said “Uncle, you can have the lot.” I said “I don't think I'll be ever coming back to live here,” and he started to cry again. His wife was there. She welcomed us and saying that the house was still half ours. So we stayed there for quite a while and then we decided to go back to my aunty's place in Gorna Mala . Her son drove us up there. So we stayed there for the next day and the night.
    Eventually we decided to go to some of the other villages. Drenichevo. Drenichevo is the nearest village to Gradche. The Greeks had called it “Kranohori”. Unfortunately this particular village, before the war or actually before 1921 or '22, about 99 per cent of the people were Macedonians. But during the Greek-Turkish conflict when they exchanged nationals, quite a number of the Pontian Greeks were planted in the village Drenichevo . And I would say probably about 30 per cent of the village people of Drenichevo, of Kranohori , are Pontian Greeks and they were the eyes and the ears and they were the spies, not all of them, for the fascist Greek government during the civil war and before the civil war etc.
    We went there and we met some people there, also met some of my relatives there. Unfortunately my uncle from my mother's side had lost his life. His two sons, one of them got killed during the civil war, and the other was in Skopje. So we took the liberty of asking if they knew what part of Skopje. They didn't know. But eventually when we got to Skopje we met with my cousin there. Drenichevo is a fairly large village, and the population has actually increased to what it was pre war or pre civil war as well. But the village Gradche has diminished to a very very small number. I think the number at present or at the time when we were there in '83 it was about 48 only.
    So eventually we went to some other villages as well, but we went back again to my village after Drenichevo and I met with my uncle again, uncle Chris. And he told me a terrible terrible story. He told me how he called his donkey in Macedonian Choonksh [Stop!] and a Greek policeman or korofilakas heard him. So he took his name and they summonsed him to go to court in Kostur. Eventually the court case proceeded. My uncle could speak very little Greek because, he was my father's brother as I said, and he was born under the Ottoman occupation. He could speak very few words in Greek so they had to have an interpreter for him at the court. When the prosecutor asked the interpreter to ask my uncle why did he speak this forbidden language, and my uncle said “Well, it's like this, my animals can only understand Macedonian, therefore if I spoke another language they wouldn't know what I was saying to them.” Anyhow the prosecution pressed the case and eventually the judge said “Have you anything else to say?” and my uncle said “Yes,” he said “You should open schools for the old people to learn Greek and you should also open schools for the animals to learn Greek”. The judge was furious with his answer and sentenced him to five years in gaol. For a very elderly person to be in gaol for five years, you can imagine how terrible it must have been. But they never broke his spirit. That's very important. They never broke his spirit. And he said “They can do whatever they like. I was born a Macedonian and I'll die a Macedonian”. So as you can see, they'll never ever break the Macedonian spirit entirely, it doesn't matter what they do.
    After visiting several other villages in our area we decided to go to my wife's village, which is called Konomladi (Makrohori in Greek). In Konomladi Helen's uncle was still alive, that is Helen's father's brother. And he also told us what happened to him. The Greeks hung him upside down by the legs and they beat him and they beat him and they left him for dead. The family cut him down. He was all black and blue from the severe beating that he had. They took him home and they wrapped him in sheep wool and also sheep skin and he was in that state for several weeks, hovering between death and life. His will must have been tremendous. He eventually got better but he never recovered from the terrible beating that he had. He is a man of great spirit, he is a man of understanding. He'll do anything to help people. We stayed there for two nights, we enjoyed our visit to his place and also meeting his family. It's very sad to see the terrible things that have taken place during the last 40 or 50 years in Aegean Macedonia.
    When did the Greeks beat him, and why?
    Well, I was informed by my wife, Helen, because she was still there before she came to Australia, they beat him because he was in a group which was organizing the Macedonians and apparently that was the reason why they beat him like that.
    This happened at the beginning of the Greek Civil War and what were the circumstances that led to him being caught?
    Well apparently what happened was that an informer that heard and knew that my wife's uncle was in a committee that was organizing the Macedonians for the Macedonian movement, Autonomous Macedonia, and also Macedonia for the Macedonians, and that was the main reason why they beat him and they left him for dead.
    Can you tell us a little about your wife's family?
    My mother-in-law, that is Helen's mother, during the civil war she was one of the persons who helped to carry the wounded partisans and when they found out about that my mother-in-law was gaoled for five years in an underground prison in Athens. It was a terrible hardship and something that virtually destroyed her life. Eventually, my father-in-law managed to bring his wife to Australia but she did not live much longer after arriving in Australia. It was part and parcel of the terrible tragedy of being in gaol for five years under tremendous, horrific pressures and degradation.
    Also my wife's brother, he was a partisan. He got wounded severely and the Greeks captured him and they threw him in the gutter for dead. In actual fact a Greek priest went by him, he saw him there, he spat on him, he kicked him, time and time again, tried to extinguish his life. Eventually a Greek soldier who was a bit more humane got hold of my brother-in-law and took him to hospital where they amputated his leg. When he got better they transferred him from the hospital to one of the islands and he was imprisoned for seven years for being a partisan. He was only doing his duty as a Macedonian and also as a duty for freedom and democracy - seven years in gaol. Eventually he was released and came to Australia. His experience and tortures and trauma ended his life at a premature age, that's all I've got to say.
    After visiting my wife's village, we came back to Kostur or Kastoria as the Greek call it and enjoyed the area and also I met some people that we knew from Sydney, and they took us to their home, we had a couple of meetings with them.
    Eventually we decided that we would go to Salonika but not by plane but by vehicle, by car or a taxi so we could see the countryside. So we engaged the taxi driver who we had with us for some considerable time by now. We got to know him and his name was Vane, John. He was driving a French car as a taxi and he kept on playing Greek music mainly, but every now and then he played a Macedonian cassette. I kept on talking to him about Macedonia and all that, both in Greek and Macedonian. What actually happened, he had been told by the Greeks that his father and mother had been killed by the partisans. He was only a very young boy at the age of about three or thereabouts, so the Greeks had taken this young boy and they made him a Yanitsar in other words, to be hateful of anything else but Greek. I kept on talking to him about Macedonia and Macedonians and all that and I was so interested that I decided to go back to the village and check up why his parents were killed and by whom. I was told that his parents were not killed by anyone because they stepped on a land mine and that killed them. So I kept on talking to this young taxi driver regarding Macedonia and all that and eventually he started to think. I didn't say anymore. I said “Now I want you to drive us from here to Salonika”, as I mentioned before.
    The first stop was at Voden. The Greeks had renamed the town Edessa. It's a beautiful town, 90 per cent Macedonians but afraid to speak Macedonian. When we got there, there was sort of like a coffee shop and also a little store selling a few groceries and also selling films. So I said to my wife “I'll go and buy another film because the one I have is used up”. As I went there I saw the person behind the counter. I spoke to him in English. He shook his head, naturally because he couldn't speak English, and I spoke to him in Greek. When he answered me in Greek I could see his Greek was only broken Greek and I said to him in a very low tone and very low voice so I wouldn't be heard “Dali si Makedonets?” [Are you a Macedonian?] He said “ Da, Makedonets sum, pa da ne zborvash, ke ne shtyue. ” Don't talk aloud because they might hear ustalking Macedonian and I'll get into trouble. He said “Come around the back”. So we went around the back and he opened up. It was absolutely disastrous what had happened to the Macedonians under Greek control. They've been devastated, they've been traumatized, they've been brutalized. And as far as the Greeks keep on saying that democracy was born in Greece, I wish they'd kept some of the democracy for themselves. Eventually I parted with him and I thanked him, and I said “Don't forget you're a Macedonian, it doesn't matter what happens.” He said “ Do koga disham, jas ke bidam Makedonets ”. “As long as I'm breathing,” he said “I'll never change from being a Macedonian”.
    So we left Voden, it's a beautiful place, as I mentioned before, and all the way from there to Salonika or Thessaloniki as the Greeks call it, the plain of Solun as I call it is very fertile. They can grow virtually anything – fruit, vegetables, wheat, corn, you name it. And we bought quite a bit of fruit because it was the right season and we kept on driving and got as far as Pella,. When we got to Pella, I said to the taxi driver, “I want to stop here.” He said “Why?” I said “Don't you know?' He said “Oh, I heard about it.” I said “These are areas which are of historical value regarding Macedonian history.” He said “What do you mean, Macedonian history?” I said “Well, this is Macedonia, this is not Greece”. So we stopped. We spent about four hours at Pella and looked at some of the ruins there and I said to him “These are ruins from Philip, Alexander's father, Alexander the Great.” “Oh yes,” he said. “Alexander the Great, Megas Alexandros . ” “No, no” I said “Not Megas Alexandros, Veliki Alexandar ,” I said to him.
    Anyhow we continued to Salonika. We got there. As we were driving I said to him “Now John or Vane, I want you to take us to the best hotel they've got in Salonika, Solun.” He said “Yes, the name is Makedoniko Palati.” Macedonian Palace. I said “John, you just kept on telling me there's no Macedonia and yet right inside the middle of Solun you tell me the best hotel is called Macedonian Palace. There you are,” I said. Anyhow, we reached the hotel, we booked in, so I called him up to our room, we got something to eat and I said “How much do we owe you?” So he made the calculations and I gave him a tip and I said “I'll walk you down to the reception”. As we went down in the lift I said “John, I have to give you some news which… you will probably be surprised and shocked”. He said to me in Greek “Le ye . ” In other words “Kazi” [Tell]. I said “When we get down, we'll sit down and I'll explain to you”. So we went down to the reception, there was a couch on the side. I said “Let's sit on the side so nobody can hear us.” And I explained to him what happened about his parents. I told him that his father and mother were not executed by the partisans or not murdered by the partisans but they died by stepping on a land mine. He got a shock. He got up, he wrapped his arms around me, and he started to cry. He said “I was never informed, but inside me I felt there was something wrong.” “So John, that is the reason,” I said. “You can't be anything else but what you are. You're a Macedonian”. He wrapped his arms around me, he started to cry.
    He had to leave to return to Kostur. We went out of the hotel and I wished him a safe journey back to Kostur, and we parted.
    Why was Vane unable to find out why his parents had died?
    Actually when I think back and consider the whole situation in regards to this taxi driver Vane, it comes to my mind that the Greeks had Graecized him to such an extent that the people around him were probably afraid to tell him the truth. And I feel that people of the village where John the taxi driver was born were scared to approach him and tell him the facts, what had happened to him, just in case he was still pro-Grkoman [pro- Greek] and informed on them and they could be actually brought to the courts and gaoled. So that is a sad sad situation that has taken place not only with this case but I assume with hundreds of other cases in the Macedonian area under Greek control.
    We stayed several days in Salonika. We visited the eastern part of Salonika along the seaside. It's a beautiful area. Salonika itself is by far, far superior as far as quality of life is concerned to Athens. Athens is a much larger city, very congested, very polluted, at the same time, being built virtually in a gully, it's a horrible atmosphere to live in. We stayed in Salonika for as I said for several days and then we decided from Salonika to go to Bulgaria, where my wife and I have relatives. So we decided to get on a bus. We got on a bus and as we reached the Greek-Bulgarian border the passports are collected and they are given to the Bulgarian officer who boards the bus. The Bulgarian officer checked the passports of all the passengers and they were all Greeks going to Sofia. Only the wife and I were Macedonians and I have a habit if I travel in a bus, on a tourist bus, I like to be right at the back of the bus so I can see what goes on in front of me. He checked all the passports from the Greeks and not a word was said, nothing was uttered. When he came to us the Bulgarian officer, he was a captain in a blue uniform, a man of about 40 or thereabouts or maybe a bit less. When he saw my passport, which said “Michael Veloskey born Macedonia” he started to yell, “Kakva ta Makedonia”. “There's no such thing as Macedonia, there's no Macedonians.” And I was rather surprised and shocked in a way. And I said to him, in simple words “Look here officer, your job is to see if our visas are valid or not. If there is no Macedonia for you, there is Macedonia for me. If you know you're Bulgarian, I know I'm a Macedonian. So I don't want to discuss this with you any further. You do your job - to check the visas, that's all that's required.” He didn't say much more after that. He took our passports. When we disembarked from the bus, there was a check on our luggage and they also kept our passports. So we lined up to wait for our passports and also our luggage. So we exchanged money from traveller's cheques into Bulgarian leva. This particular officer that checked us on the bus came to me and he said “What do you know about politics?” I said “Look here, we came here on a tourist visa, we are here as tourists,” and I said “I don't want to discuss politics with you but if you insist” I said “ask me”. He said “You don't know anything about politics.” I said “Well, maybe I don't know but I'll ask you a couple of questions, and if I'm wrong I'll seek your pardon and I'll bend down on my knees and seek your pardon, but if you are wrong what would you do?” And he said to me in Bulgarian “Kazee, kazee” [Tell me, tell me]. That's how the Bulgarians talk. And I said in Bulgarian “Ke kazeem, ke kazeem”. And then in Macedonian “Kogato Dimitrov ga pozna Makedonia i Makedontsite, sho stoj pred tebe?” He understood me. I said “If Dimitrov recognized and acknowledged that there's Macedonians and Macedonia, what stands between you and him. He was a world figure in politics, so what are you going to say?” He had nothing to say. His face went red and he turned around to my wife and he said “You've got an angel husband” and I said to him in Macedonian “Tia bugarashki tatarashki, druk da mu kazish.“ “These Bulgarian words that you're saying, tell them to your villagers, not to me”. And I asked him not to interfere anymore.
    In 1993 you were the founding president of the Aegean Macedonian Association of Australia. What were the Association's objectives and what do you see as its main achievements?
    Well as the name implies, Aegean Macedonian Association of Australia, Aegean Macedonians of Australia, a group of Macedonians from Aegean Macedonia plus a couple of others from the Republic of Macedonia, we decided to form the Association with our aim to pursue human rights for the Macedonians not only in Macedonia but also in Australia. We lobbied the parliamentarians of federal parliament and even some of the state parliamentarians and our main aim was to help achieve human rights for the Macadonians in Greece, and that we should be recognized as Macedonians, not as Serbo-Macedonians, not as Fyrom, not as Greek Macedonians. We are what we are, we are Macedonians, proud citizens of Australia, and we should be known and accepted as being Australian citizens of Macedonian background.
    Let me mention some of the people who contributed to the Macedonian cause via the Aegean Macedonian Associatoin of Australia. Apart form myself as president, Paul Stephen, founder and vice president; Bill Vlassis, secretary; Victor Bivell and Mile Donevski, great contributors as “think tank” resources; Bill Manos, financial contributor; Steve Malco; Boris Minovski; Atanas Strezovski and many others. Let me convey my sincere thanks to the Kotori Cultural Club of Richmond for the great financial support and also to many individuals from there.
    Much of the Association's work was towards promoting human righs in Greece. What is your view of the Greek government's policy towards the ethnic Macedonians in Aegean Macedonian both in the past and at present?
    Unfortunately the past and the present Greek governments, whether socialist or capitalists or whatever they call themselves, have been hypocritical. In my opinion, going back say 70 years the Greek parliaments continuously have frustrated the Macedonian desire to be free, to live in a democratic country in a democratic environment. When you are restricted from speaking your own language, when you are restricted from singing your own songs, when you are restricted from having your own church and sermons in the Macedonian language, how could you call that freedom, how would you call Greek democracy, how could you call the Greek governments democratic governments? To me they are the complete opposite. They always have been, they continue to be hypocritical. They have closed the borders to Macedonians who left during the civil war. If you go back and try to cross the borders even up to today you are refused entry if you have a Macedonian name. If you change your name to a Greek name they'll let you through. I think it's a very sad stage in our era to have this type of government anywhere, let alone in the Balkans. I feel very sad to see what's happening in the Balkans. Not only in Greece but unfortunately similar things are happening in Bulgaria.
    What would you like to see happen in Aegean Macedonia?
    What I would like to see is that the borders should be completely pulled down, throughout the Balkans, throughout Macedonia, throughout Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Croatia and all the other countries - to be joined in a European community where freedom of travel, freedom of speech, freedom of religious services, freedom of worship, whatever you have, should be for all the people in all of Europe. That is my wish, that is my thought, and I hope that it will come to fruition before I pass away.
    How do you see the future of the Macedonian minorities in Greece, Bulgaria and Albania?
    Unfortunately, and I'll say it again, unfortunately, as far as I can understand it they have not achieved the freedom they deserve; because Macedonia and Macedonian history dates back longer than any of the other countries that are surrounding them and it's a very sad thing that the world has closed its eyes and does not see what is actually happening to the Macedonian minorities in those countries. It's about time the European Council and the European Union start to shift the pages back and allow the Macedonians to enjoy true freedom with free movement throughout Europe.
    What would you like to see happen in the Republic of Macedonia?
    In the Republic of Macedonia what I would like to see is this: that the government which is supposed to be for the people, by the people, to stand firm, to stand firm on the constitution which they originally had which gives freedom to all the peoples in the Republic of Macedonia, even the Albanians. But not to the terrorists; I cannot understand how the Republic of Macedonia has elected members into parliament who were the leaders of the terrorist group of Albanians which caused all these troubles in the Republic of Macedonia. I feel disillusioned, disheartened at what they've done: how can a country declare itself a republic by denying its own flag, by denying its own constitution, or altering its constitution to please some of the neighbours which are undemocratic? In my way of thinking it's this: it's free when you decide to declare yourself independent, you choose a name which you stick to, you choose a flag and if it's a new flag you stick by it. But we have our flag, which dates back over 2,000 years, that's the sun, a rising sun which the Macedonians used to worship in those days. And that is a proper Macedonian flag, not the “ventilator”, which they've adopted as our national flag. I'll never accept that and any Macedonian who is a true Macedonian will never accept that. Nor will they accept a constitution where they watered it down saying that the Republic of Macedonia has no right to ask what's taking place in Aegean Macedonia where Macedonians are treated as third or fourth class citizens, denied their rights of religion, of culture, and everything else that goes with freedom. That is my opinion.
    What sort of future would you like to see for the Macedonian people?
    I would like to see a happy, prosperous future for the Macedonians in the years to come. I would like to see the Macedonians, Serbs, Croatians, Bulgarians, Greeks, even Albanian terrorists realize that they live in that part of the world, that it's better to be friends than to be enemies. You have nothing to gain by being enemies and fighting each other, you have everything to gain by resolving your problems peacefully and in an equal basis, in an equal basis. Respect each other, respect each other's views, respect for what you are. If you're a Macedonian the others should respect you as being a Macedonian. If you are a Serb you should be respected to be a Serb and vice versa. The same with the Greeks. If the Greeks want the Macedonians to respect them as Greeks they should respect the Macedonians and Macedonia. And the Bulgarians and the other ethnic groups around the area, they should have the choice of what they are and nobody should deny them that right.
    What are your current involvements in Macedonian affairs?
    I am politically active by attending meetings, and also trying to put some input, whatever I can, but at my age, I'm well over 80, I think it's about time that I stepped aside and I think the younger people should take the reigns and I'm quite sure that we have quite a lot of young people in Australia, in Sydney and elsewhere, who are very capable and they're going to do a good job. So I am prepared to help wherever I can from the knowledge that I have gained from the years that have gone by. Therefore I earned and deserve to have some rest.
    © Copyright Michael Veloskey and Pollitecon Publications 2005
    The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

    Comment

    • The LION will ROAR
      Senior Member
      • Jan 2009
      • 3231

      #3
      My First Visit To My Birthplace, The Village Neret Near Lerin in Aegean Macedonia



      I am Atanas Strezovski, an Australian citizen and passport holder. In July 2003, while on holiday in Europe, I decided to visit my birthplace to see my relatives and friends and to be present at the wedding of the daughter of aunty, Georgiou Elefterija.
      While in Bitola, the Republic of Macedonia, I had received an invitation, written using the Greek alphabet to make Macedonian words. The letter said that I would be welcome “dear nephew” to attend the wedding of Hrisula and Atanasios and that they would wait “with warm heart” for me to arrive.
      On my first attempt to return to Greece for a visit in August 1994 I had been denied entry - the border official told me this was because my passport had my birthplace as “Neret” and the country as “MKD”. Neret is the original Macedonian name for my village, and MKD is the international abbreviation for Macedonia. However, after the Balkan Wars the region became part of Greece and the village was renamed into the Greek “Polipotamos”. The border official said that there was “no way” I could enter Greece while the terminology “Neret” and “MKD” were in my passport.


      On this occasion, because I had the invitation, I had a small hope that the Greek authorities would permit me to enter Greece when I arrived at the border checkpoint at Medzitlija. To encourage me, my mother, Paraskeva, who was also born in Neret but now lives in Bitola, had said to me that many people had been let into Greece because they had such an invitation. But I later realized that the invitation was irrelevant to the Greek authorities.
      I made a deal with a Macedonian taxi driver that he would take me to the village Neret for 25 euros.
      We set out at 8.30 am. The whole time I was afraid that they would not let me into Greece, as I know that many Macedonians born in Aegean Macedonia (now called northern Greece) have been wiped out from the records forever by the Greek authorities.
      Despite the history and my own experience in 1994, I kept my small hope that they would let me enter. On the way, the owner of the taxi said that many hundreds of Macedonians with Australian and Canadian passports had been denied entry at the border simply because their birthplace was written under the original Macedonian name, for example “Buf, Makedonia”. According to the taxi driver, the Greek Government does not want to see Macedonian names and that is why they turn people back. The Government wants to see these toponyms written only under the new Greek names with which they had Christened them.
      He said that when the Macedonians were denied entry they became very unhappy and that as a taxi driver he was also unhappy as the passengers paid for their journey but had not reached their destinations. What the Greeks are doing is very unfair, he said, but they are very powerful internationally and what can the Macedonians do? He then added that he has two Greek border officers who are good friends of his and that if one of them is on duty there is a small possibility that I could pass through. Otherwise there would be no chance at all, he said.
      About 9 am we reached the check point, Medzitlija. He told me to wait in the taxi and he would test the ground for me. A few minutes later he returned and said it was successful.
      When I saw the stamp in my passport, I was surprised that I would be allowed to pass the border, as I could clearly remember not being allowed to pass through in 1994. I could not believe the situation. I was overjoyed.
      As soon as we started the car, I said to the taxi driver “The ice is broken, the times are softer, and even the Greeks can see that the Macedonians are people too. This is probably because of criticism and pressure from human rights organizations and the European politicians and community.” The young taxi driver said “Do not be so happy until the job is done and we reach your village.” The driver said that although he had been to many villages, this was the first time he was going to Neret. We would need to ask directions from somebody and, as there were a lot of Greek agents in plain clothes, to be on the safe side we would need to ask in the Greek language and to ask for the village using its Greek name. “Pujse to Polipotamos” he said to me in Greek to show me how, as I was on the footpath side of the car.
      And that is what happened. When we met a women, I said the above words and she answered something in Greek which I did not understand. But the taxi driver told me even if I do not understand what she is saying, she was showing with her hand that we need to turn right at the T junction.
      We continued on for another 10 minutes. But to ensure we were going in the right direction, we stopped again and asked a man who was plastering a house - using the same Greek words above. His short answer - in perfect Macedonian - was that we were on the road to the village Neret (“pa Vie patuvate za selo Neret”). With a similar short reply - also in Macedonian - I said to him with a smile “Yes, we are going there.” ("Da, tamu odime.”) He gave us precise directions. “Turn left at the third bridge. It is the last village. You cannot miss it.”
      In 15 minutes we arrived at the village Neret. At once I was greeted by my relatives, my aunty Elefterija and my cousins Dimitrios and Vasili Tolis.
      The wedding was underway when we arrived. The band played Macedonian and Greek music. But there was only music - no singing. Even well known Macedonian national songs, such as “Mariche Le Lichno Devojche” (Maria You Pretty Girl) were only played by the band but no one sang to the music.
      Until 4 pm the ceremonies were only in the centre of the village. Around 3 pm I went to the church to speak with the priest. There was no sign of the name of the church - not in Macedonian nor in Greek. I asked the priest but he refused to answer. He seemed frightened. I asked one of the guests near me “What is the name of this church?” The lady replied “Sv Bogorodica” (St Mary). I asked why there is no name on the church? Why it is blank? She said “We know the name”. When I asked the priest if the church is called Sv Bogorodica he said “Yes” in Macedonian, but made no further comment. But the service in the church was entirely in the Greek language.
      Outside the church and in the village, when there were no Greeks present, the people generally spoke Macedonian, so my impression was that the Macedonian language at least is no longer forbidden. However, it is a shame that there is no Macedonian school and that the Macedonian language is not used or taught at school.
      That evening in the nearby town of Lerin, in the hall where the wedding celebrations continued, the band played Macedonian music but the words were sung in the Greek language.
      After the wedding we returned to Neret and I stayed with my cousin Dimitrios.
      The next day I awoke about 10 am. I was alone in the house. I looked at the photograph albums, which my cousin had already pointed out to me.
      Most of the photographs were of my relatives, and I saw photographs of my dead grandfather, Hristos Strezos. I also saw photos of his son, my uncle, Kosta Strezov, who now lives in the town of Burgas in Bulgaria. It was Kosta who had originally told me about this wedding and suggested I try to enter Greece to attend. Kosta had previously not been allowed to enter Greece and so on this occasion had not tried to enter to attend the wedding.
      I also saw a photograph of my grandfather’s other son, my father, Giorgi Strezovski. I was in the photograph, a child of about four sitting on his knee. The photo was taken in Bitola in about 1948. I was born in 1944 and my family had left Neret and gone to Bitola while I was a baby. My father was a patriot. He had told my mother that if we stayed in the village we would become Greeks but if we left we would have a chance to remain Macedonians. Many other Macedonians in Greece had felt the same.
      I believe that as a Macedonian intellectual my father was persecuted by Serbian nationalists. My father was a professional musician, a clarinet player and composer, but in the photograph he was wearing a Yugoslav army uniform. Because of the split between Tito and Stalin, he was imprisoned for about three years in Serbia during the time of the “Informbiro”. His health deteriorated through maltreatment, and the prison doctor diagnosed that he would soon die. They let him free so that he would not die in the prison hospital. From Serbia he moved to Bitola and then Skopje but no doctor could help him and he passed away.
      I also saw my mother, Paraskeva Strezovska, with her sons Lenin and myself, Atanas, photographed in Ohrid, although I do not know in what year. I was about 10 years old.
      I also saw a photograph of myself as a Serbian soldier in the Yugoslav National Army. The photo was dated 25.10.1964.
      I also saw a photograph of my cousin, Toli Dimitrios, dressed as a Greek ‘Evzon” guard.
      At my request, my cousin, Vasili Tolis, took me to the monastery Sv Naum, where there are the graves of my relatives, including that of my grandfather Hristos Strezos, who died in 1975. The family believes this was from beatings by Greek agents whom the Macedonians call “andarti”. We believe the reason is that he received a letter from Australia which was addressed to Risto Strezovski and not Hristos Strezos, the Greek version of his name.
      I also saw the graves of my cousin Hristos Tolis and his wife Fane Filippoi, for whom I lit candles.
      Again, in this monastery also, I could see no writing to indicate its name.
      In the village cafe, I met with a group of Macedonians who spoke in Macedonian. I joined the group and they accepted me. I told them I was born in the village but had left as a baby and this was the first time I had come back in 59 years.
      They asked to see my passport and when they saw written the word “Neret” they were surprised and said how good it was that I could successfully enter Greece. I told them the story of the taxi driver.
      They mentioned that even a letter which has Macedonian script or names and surnames is not delivered. They believed such letters are returned to sender but I believe they could be kept by the Greek authorities or even destroyed.
      After three days the time came for me to leave for Bitola. Around 5 pm I said my goodbyes to my relatives, and my cousin Vasili took me to the border at Medzitlija.
      On the way my cousin said he would bring me to Lerin to see my grandfather’s old shop where he practised as a tailor. My father also worked there as a boy before he became a musician. The shop has been closed since the late 1920s or early 1930s when my grandfather travelled to Australia to look for work. The shop looks as it was then and I took several photographs.
      We started again for Bitola and my cousin said to me “Oh cousin, Tanase, if you had stayed here instead of emigrating you would have a house in Neret, a farm in Neret, and a shop in Lerin. Because your family was not here your grandfather Hristos gave everything to us and made us promise we would not sell the shop to anyone.” I did not have a comment to this, except to say “Good luck to you for your inheritance and may you have a happy life. If I have another chance in my life time I will come back again. All I want is for us to be healthy and happy.”
      At the border, I wanted to make my farewells and to continue alone, in case there was some problem at the check point which I did not want my cousin to suffer. But my cousin said he would take me to the Macedonian border.
      At that moment I had a feeling that something unexpected could happen.
      But my cousin insisted with the words “Don’t worry. I was an evzon guard here and everyone knows me.”
      When I gave my passport to the Greek official, he opened it and carefully read every part. He looked aghast and said “Selo Neret”.
      As he said the Macedonian word “Selo”, which is nowhere in the passport, I immediately realized that he may be of Macedonian background. The possibility that he could be reminded me of a “Janichar”, a Turkish word from the Ottoman period that meant a Macedonian child who had been confiscated from their parents and raised as a soldier to kill Macedonians.
      I got a feeling that I would have a problem. I was mostly worried about my cousin Vasili as I would be returning to Australia but he would remain there.
      The official asked me in Greek “What is Neret?” and what is “MKD?”. I shrugged my shoulders and as I do not speak Greek I answered to my cousin in Macedonian so that he could translate “I do not know”, even if I did know.
      He rolled the passport nervously in his hands. He made a phone call and looked up some books, ostensibly to find out what “Neret” and “MKD” mean, although I believe he already knew what they meant. I waited for about an hour at the counter. Meanwhile a number of people with Greek passports passed through trouble-free at the same window. As I waited on my feet I began to feel I was being punished. The officer held his head with both hands and looked as if he could not believe what he was reading. I wondered how a person including myself could have passed the check point and not have been checked properly. Clearly there had been some sort of “error” by the officer who had allowed me to enter Greece. I felt that the officer could get into serious trouble for allowing me in, and I felt sorry for him as what he had done was right from a humanitarian point of view. Meanwhile the officer I stood before still could not believe what he saw and continued to fidget with the passport. Finally he asked me when and how I entered Greece and who had let me in? My answer through my cousin who translated was that I did not know which officer it was but that I passed through the same road on which I now wished to leave. I told him the date and the time and that now two days later I am waiting patiently to leave as relatives of mine were on the Macedonian side of the border with a car.
      The officer seemed exhausted from asking me the same questions over and over and did not know what else to ask me. Finally he gave back the passport. I thanked him and quickly left the building.
      As I opened the car door and was about to sit, I saw an officer, a large man with a uniform, coming towards me. Unlike the other officer, he had a pistol on his hip. He spoke in rapid Greek, of which I could only understand the word “passport”. Immediately I understood the problem and gave him the passport. He entered the checkpoint office from which I had just left.
      I waited on the footpath for about seven minutes. The large officer then returned and gave me the passport. I thanked him in English.
      We entered the car and left immediately for the Macedonian border.
      I wondered why the large officer had taken my passport when the first officer has already cleared me to leave. As we were driving I opened the passport to see if there had been any changes. I saw that the stamp for my entry into Greece had been badly smudged with blue ink so that the Greek words were no longer identifiable. There was also some new handwriting - the word “AKYION”, presumably a Greek word.
      I also noticed that there was no stamp for my exit.
      In those moments I asked myself what all this meant? Whether that by destroying my entry stamp it made it look as if I had entered Greece illegally, perhaps by jumping the fence or crossing some farmland or bush etc, rather than having passed through the checkpoint? Was that the reason for defacing the passport - to destroy the evidence that I entered Greece legally? However I did not believe that they could fully destroy the evidence of my legal entry as surely the information would have been entered in their computer system?
      I decided I would take action to make these events known to various Macedonian human rights organizations in Bitola and Sydney and to the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs in Canberra.
      A year later I am still asking myself - what is the real problem? Is it that I entered Greece under my original Macedonian name and surname; is it that I entered Greece under the original Macedonian name of my village - Neret, instead of the Greek Polipotamos as they have renamed it; or is it that I with entered Greece the international abbreviation for Macedonia - MKD. I think it is that any or all three of the above would signify official recognition for the Macedonian people and country.
      Sydney, June 30, 2004
      The author can be contacted at PO Box 179, Ramsgate NSW 2217 Australia, or [email protected]
      The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

      Comment

      • The LION will ROAR
        Senior Member
        • Jan 2009
        • 3231

        #4
        Life in the Greek Concentration Camps: Nikola's Story

        by Risto Stefov
        [email protected]

        April, 2002
        select a printable version HTML or .pdf stefov3.pdf" stefov3.pdf"
        This is Nikola's story, a Macedonian man who at nineteen was snatched from his family and sent to the Greek prison camps where he endured five years of isolation, humiliation and beatings at the hands of the Greek authorities.
        I will be telling Nikola's story in the first person.
        It was April 17, 1947, an ordinary spring day when the serenity of the village was broken by a man's loud voice calling everyone to gather at the village square. I was overtaken with curiosity as I rushed to get there as soon as I could. Something important must be happening I thought when I heard the church bells ringing. Nothing had prepared me for what was about to happen.
        When I got there I saw soldiers, about thirty of them, in Greek military uniforms. One of them was an officer with a piece of paper in his hand looking anxious as he paced back and forth waiting for everyone to arrive. "What's going on I asked?" All I got were shrugged shoulders, no one knew. The whispers from the crowd went silent when the officer asked loudly if everyone was there. "Yes." replied a man from behind the crowd.
        The officer read a list of names, including my own. When he finished he told us to immediately report to the main road at the bottom of the village and wait there. Fourteen of us stepped forward and joined the patrol. "Is this all of them?" the officer yelled out. "Yes." replied the man again from behind the crowd. We all walked in silence as I looked around and saw my friends and neighbours. We were men of mixed ages from boys younger than I to grandfathers. When we reached our destination we were moved into the meadows away from the road and told to lie flat on our stomachs, face down. It seemed like hours had passed when I heard a familiar voice calling my name. It was my little sister. My mother, worrying about me going hungry, sent some food.
        The silence was broken again when I heard sounds of trucks coming. "Everyone on your feet, we are going to Lerin," announced the officer. No one dared speak, as we all boarded the trucks.
        On the way to Lerin we saw people from the village of Oshchima walking on the road and called out to them not to go home, they too were in danger.
        As the trucks rumbled through the dusty meandering roads to Lerin I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen to us. I couldn't understand why they were taking us and for how long. What had we done?
        It was evening when we arrived. The soldiers escorted us into the yard of Tole's hotel. The area was crowded with about two hundred men of all ages. I recognized some of them from neighbouring villages. By dusk we were escorted at gunpoint into the boarded up hotel and locked up for the night. All through the night I could hear silent whispers of men asking questions wondering what would happen but I heard no answers. The night was long and cold and I didn't get any sleep. Through the cracks of the boards I could see the sky becoming lighter. Suddenly, I felt my heart pounding as the serenity of the night was broken by a loud noise from behind. The door flung open and a couple of guards loudly proclaimed it was morning and time to get out. We were all escorted out to the yard, divided up into teams of a dozen and driven out to various locations to work. Some of us were sent to dig bunkers and others to lay barbed wire fences. We worked from dawn to dusk that day without provisions. We were thankful to the generosity of fellow Macedonians who took pity on us and gave us some provisions. After we got back from work I sent word home for clothes, blankets and money to buy food.
        Three days later two men from Oshchima came and brought me a pair of shorts, a blanket and some food. My family had no money so I relied on the generosity of others to support me. Some of the captives were leaders of organizations and were able to obtain provisions for those that couldn't afford any. No one was left to starve. By law we were entitled to one tenth of a drachma a day (four drachmas bought a loaf of bread) but even then we were cheated by the commanding officer who bought himself a radio with our money.
        As the days passed we spent the daytime working building bunkers and stretching barbed wire or in lockup in the dark rooms of the hotel. We spent the nighttime in the outdoors sleeping in the crowded yard of the police station. The police station was surrounded by a three-meter high barbed wire fence, to keep us in, and was guarded from the rooftop by guards armed with machine guns. A notice was posted at the front door warning the Partisans that "we would die first" if they dared attack the police station. We were being used as human shields. I remember one dark rainy night in May the police escorted us inside the hotel (out of the rain) when the shelling started. It was too late to take us back, so they quickly locked us up in the hotel for the night. Three or four policemen, upset about the Partisan attack, tried to get in and turn their guns of us. But the officer in charge offered them a different option. He told them, "If you want to kill someone go where the fighting is." No one died that night. The next night the rain returned and again we were rushed into the hotel. The day after we found out a shell had landed and exploded in the police station yard that night. Many of us would have died had we stayed there.
        Months passed and no word as to why we were still held prisoners. Lawyers came and went and still no one was released. People told us not to waste our money on lawyers, as they couldn't do anything for us.
        As the days passed, some of the captives were taken from lockup and executed. We found out some were accused of collaborating with the Partisans and others of sabotage. As I learned more of their fate I began to worry about my own future. Not too long ago I too was involved in some deeds that could have brought me the death penalty. I was involved in cutting communication lines and removing telephone wires from Orovnik to Zhelevo. I helped cut up and burn the wooden bridge at Kamenlivada. Before that I helped the Macedonian Partisans escape an attack from the Greek Partisans. I remember that day well. A friend of mine and I were cutting shuma (oak branches) when a man from Oshchima saw Greek Partisans advancing towards Prespa. With axes in our hands and torbi (food sacks) over our shoulders we ran from Oshchima to Rambi to warn the Partisans. We were smart to bypass Publi to avoid the Greek police that were stationed there. When we arrived we met up with Mito Tupurkovski, a Partisan officer and fellow villager from Oshchima, and gave him the news. The Partisans in Prespa (Rambi) were all Macedonians and were being chased by the Greek Partisans for disobeying orders. The Greeks wanted them to go south and defend Ipirus but the Macedonians refused the order and stayed where they were to defend their homeland. For that they were branded traitors and chased out of the country.
        Mito immediately gave orders for the brigade to assemble. The bugler sounded the alarm and the men tanning and relaxing in the sun assembled and were ready to march. I remember it was before dinnertime and beans were boiling in a large cauldron. There was no time to eat so two men tipped the cauldron sending the soup rolling down the slope like a flood. The brigade was too large to be accommodated in one village so it split up into three groups. Some went to spend the night in Dupeni and Nakolets and the rest went to Lubiano. We spent the night in Nakolets. The next day my friend and I crossed over the Yugoslav border and went with Mito's group to Lubiano. We asked Mito for advice on what to do. He recommended we arm and join his Brigade, if not to fight then to defend ourselves. Having prior engagements and obligations at home, we declined the offer, said our good-bye and left. On the way back when we caught up with the enemy patrols, they saw us with axes in our hands and food bags over our shoulders and they naturally assumed we were coming back from work. They let us pass without a hassle and we arrived home safely.
        That was not all I had done in my time that could have landed me in hot water. During the occupation (1940 - 1945) I operated as a Partisan in Oshchima. With the outbreak of the Greek-Italian war and later the German invasion (April 6th 1941), living conditions in the region became harsh and Partisan activities began to escalate. Later (1943) as Partisans became more organized, activities intensified and drew assistance from the local population. Like many boys and girls my age, I joined the youth organizations voluntarily. Because I was too young for combat I was given non-combat duties. My activities were confined to Oshchima and the surrounding region. For the most part, I was responsible for guard duty, delivering messages between command posts and smuggling people through the German lines. I remember one time while walking through a German camp, stationed near Oshchima, I overheard two men speaking in Greek. I approached them and found out they were Greeks from Ipiros. A number of them were caught and imprisoned by the Germans. They wanted to escape but were afraid. They didn't know the terrain well enough to do it on their own. I agreed to help them and gave them instructions to meet me at the base of the camp after dark. To my surprise, twenty-seven of them were waiting when I showed up. I took them through the back of the village and by secluded paths to Mount Gomnush. From the hilltop I showed them the road to Statitsa and left. A few weeks later a column of men walking out of the forest approached me. They called me over to see if I could identify someone among them. I said I didn't know anyone. One of them with a big smile on his face then told me that he was one of the men I had helped escape that night and he had just joined the Partisans. One by one the men shook my hand and congratulated me for my deeds.
        Twenty years later I recall sitting in a cafe in Kostur where I overheard a man telling a story. I couldn't believe my ears. It was my story, and the man telling it was one of the men I had helped twenty years ago. I went over to his table and politely asked if he would be able to identify the boy in his story. He said he wouldn't, it was so long ago. After introducing myself we were both happy and thankful that fate had brought us together again.
        As I sit there, locked up in the dark room of the God-forsaken hotel, I worry about the fate of my family. My father is sixty-four years old and sick, he can't look after the farm anymore. Besides he was never a good farmer, he always depended on us (his children) to do the farming. He was good at making money though, as a petchalbar (migrant worker). In his quests for work he traveled to Ipiros, Anadol (Anatolia Turkey) and even visited Canada a few times, but he was most famous for his excellent painting and stone laying work. Everyone in the region especially in Prespa knew Barba Risto from Oshchima as the best chimney builder in the region.
        My oldest brother is dead. He died in 1943 from a burst appendix. He was only twenty-two years old, just barely married when he died. He was the hardest worker in my family.
        My oldest sister too has her own tragedy. At age thirty-seven with five children she lost her husband (Partisan) at the hands of the Greeks.
        My older brother and sister are both Partisans now. My brother is a courier running correspondence between Gramos and Vitcho. My sister, married with two young girls, is a field medic transporting dead and wounded Partisans between battlefields and field hospitals.
        I am Nikola, Risto and Sofia's fifth child. I was born in Oshchima in 1927 and I am in jail now and I don't know why.
        Later, I would learn that my youngest sister and brother were both taken by the Partisans, leaving mother and father all alone. My youngest sister was only sixteen when she was taken in 1947. In 1949 she fought in the unsuccessful and bloody battle to occupy Lerin. My youngest brother was twelve when he left with the refugee children in 1948. After spending a year in Romania he was brought back by the Greek Partisans to fight. Many like him, young and inexperienced, died fighting against the battle seasoned Greek army. My brother was only saved because many brave mothers, in protest, stood up to the Greek Partisans and stopped them from sending innocent children to slaughter.
        I miss my family very much as I lie here in this overcrowded, stench ridden dark hellhole. I can only dream of freedom, of enjoying the serenity of village life, of enjoying my mother's cooking and of drinking cold crystalline clear water from the springs of Oshchima. My dreams are often interrupted by the harsh reality of hunger pain, thirst, aching muscles and my own anxiety. As if that is not enough, I also have to endure the cruelty and humiliation of the police and soldiers who blame us for their own miseries.
        To make our lives even more miserable, the police one summer day hung twenty-three decapitated human heads on the fence where we slept. The heads hung over us, reeking of the stench of death, for three long days. They were placed there out of hatred for the Partisans and to remind us of what would happen if we tried anything. The guards told us the dead men were traitors and blood thirsty Partisans, but it was not the truth. I recognized a couple of them and they were innocent farmers who probably crossed paths with the bloodthirsty Greek police.
        Months have passed since we were first detained and still we are here and don't know why. Families, the community and concerned citizens often protest demanding our release but nothing is done.
        After months of complaining, finally one day we got an answer. We were told we were being detained because we are "a danger to the security of the Greek State". No reason was disclosed as to how and why we are a danger.
        After being detained for one hundred and five days, without a trial, we were sentenced to prison for an undisclosed prison term, to be served at the Greek concentration camps.
        With that they took us from Lerin to Solun, first by train (part way) then by trucks. I remember the train tracks were damaged and we had to get off in the middle of a watermelon farm. The workers wanted to give us watermelons but were not allowed to come near so they resorted to throwing them at us.
        It was early morning when we arrived in Solun. We drove around the city from jail to jail looking for space. There was no space for us anywhere. All the jails were full. By the end of the day we were taken to a nearby camp just outside the city limits. There, we were merged with a less fortunate group who told us that they were used as human shields by the Greeks. The military often traveled in convoys and loaded lead trucks with prisoners from this camp in case the road was mined. This served as a reminder for the Partisans that if they dared to do something they would be killing their own people.
        We spent two days in Solun waiting for prisoners to arrive before we were loaded up in ferries and shipped out to the concentration camps.
        Twelve hundred of us were sent to the island of Aistrati (Agios Evstratios) located in the center of the Aegean Sea. When we arrived, there were already two thousand captives settled, which made the camp look like a city of tents. We spent the entire day floating in the harbour waiting to offload. It was a hot, sunny August day and the ferry was overcrowded, lacked facilities, food and drinking water. When we disembarked they dumped us among the others and left us without provisions. We were entitled to 1.5 drachmas a day but it took months before we saw any of it. In the meantime we relied on those already settled to feed us. Luckily, we were allowed to grow vegetables within the confines of the camp, which helped relieve the food shortage. We were also allowed to work during the day for pay within the locality of the island.
        For a while we were allowed to roam within the confines of the island unabated. After the authorities got organized they were determined to encircle our camp with barbed wire. We angrily protested and after pleading to the United Nations they abandoned the plan. After that, they selectively separated about three hundred of us, myself included, and relocated us in a valley next to the main camp and placed us under armed guard. We were grouped twelve people to a tent. Twice a day one person from each tent was allowed to pick up provisions from the main camp. Three times a day we were required to report for roll call. Without exception, three times a day the roll call alarm was sounded just as we would start eating.
        No one could have survived alone with the meager allowances they gave us. To survive we had to pool our resources and negotiate prices to purchase provisions wholesale from the mainland. We did our own cooking, cleaning and improvements to the camp.
        In February 1949, all prisoners under the age of thirty-two were mobilized from the various concentration camps and shipped out to a military camp on the island of Makronisos located south east of Athens. There, about six hundred of us formed the first battalion. Living conditions in Makronosos were much worse that in Aistrati. We were under the constant watch of the military police who used agitation, abuse, beatings, starvation, and humiliation to control us. They were ordered by higher authorities to break our spirits. Many of the guards even enjoyed their jobs. I remember one particular guard who took pleasure in torturing. He was a small and loud man who loved to use his heels on the bodies of his victims. He frothed at the mouth as he exerted himself kicking prisoners and screaming profanities at them in the service of his country. I also remember one day when he came back from vacation, a changed man. We found out that he had spent a month in the hospital in Athens after meeting up with some of his former victims.
        Microniso was by far the worst experience in my life. No one and nothing deserves to be treated the way we were. Routinely in the hottest hours of the day, we were forced to run up hill single file between two rows of policemen, while they beat us with sticks to unconsciousness. Rarely did anyone make it to the top standing. It was a sad sight to see especially the streams of blood running downhill painting the sand red. What was even sadder was the aftermath, the humiliation of being forced to sign false confessions of acts we never committed and on top swear loyalty to the same regime that imprisoned and beat us.
        After a while many of the captives became crazed with fear and had to be isolated in wire cages. Even a glimpse of a uniform threw them into a frightful screaming fit.
        On many occasions we had visits from the Greek and sometimes the foreign (French and English) press but no one dared complain. The same policemen that tortured us were walking among us exchanging uniform for prison clothes every time we had visitors. The press was reporting fair treatment and compared our prison to paradise with our blessings. In fact we were so afraid that we would have agreed with anything. If the guards said pigs fly we would agree. At one point the authorities were so convinced of our rehabilitation that they allowed us to vote in the national elections. To their surprise we didn't vote the way they expected.
        The elections however, brought change and improvements to our situation. We could finally complain without the fear of retribution. Unfortunately, everyone was so convinced by the exemplary reports in the press that no one believed us. Even the minister of corrections who paid us a visit in person one day refused to believe us. He found the mere mention of abuse preposterous until some of the men, one by one, dropped their drawers to show him their mutilated genitals. He and his visitors were so shocked at the sight that they brought up charges against the general in charge.
        The abuses inflicted upon us were not limited to our bodies, we were forced to work for free like slaves and on top of that we were robbed of our prisoner entitlements. With our money they purchased building materials and with our labour we built them sleeping quarters, offices and recreational facilities. Even after we complained, not even a drahma was returned to us. We had to do with very little to survive. We survived because we were able to organize the people into a skillful labour force willing to work for anyone and for whatever they could afford to pay us.
        After almost two years of enduring life in the military camp, it was time for some of us to be released. To qualify however, each had to sign a statement admitting to crimes and swearing loyalty to Greece (the ruling regime). We were given two choices. Sign a confession and leave or remain a prisoner. We were allowed to withdraw previously signed confessions given that most were signed under duress. Macedonians received the most abuse. How could one tell a Macedonian from a Greek, by his confession? Without exception all Macedonians, even the uneducated farmers, were accused of being members of the Communist Party (NOF). To the Greek regime at that time it was the worst crime one could ever commit.
        In time, one by one we abandoned our ideals and gave in to the pressures of our captors. I remained loyal to the end. I roamed the campgrounds alone for three months often wondering what wrong I had done to deserve this.
        In 1950 all remaining captives (about fifty) were rounded up by armed guards, tied up at the hands in pairs and shipped out to the port of Lavrion located on the mainland near Athens. Three of us were civilians, the rest were captured Partisans (prisoners of war). When we arrived we were taken off the ship and left tied up. Without provisions in the outdoors, we waited for two days before the authorities came to pick us up. We were driven to the port of Piraeus and from there were taken to Crete to a place called Souda near Khania. We spent the first night in the local jail with some local criminals before we were released to the streets.
        I must mention that at the same time we arrived in Crete a crisis was brewing in the community. It involved the kidnapping of the daughter of a politician from the right wing party, by the son of a prominent man from the left wing party. We were left to fend for ourselves for forty days before the crisis was diffused and the authorities turned their attention to us. We spent two days hungry on the streets before a woman, in passing, showed some interest in us. She wanted to know where we were from. We told her most of us were from Lerin. She too was from Lerin, married to a civil servant in the local government. She took pity on us and got her husband, who had access to army-surplus supplies, to help us out. She gave us some pots, plates and utensils while her husband provided us with canned beans, canned meat and sardines. Through family connections she also found us some work at a government construction project. Even some of the local people took pity on us and occasionally donated food and clothing.
        When the kidnapping crisis was over the authorities split us up into three groups. Twelve of us were sent to Dafnes a village near Iraklion located in the center of Crete. When we arrived we were dumped in front of the police station and told to set up quarters in a wet basement. We refused to stay in the wet and for a while we lived on the streets. To keep us from causing trouble, the authorities offered our services to the locals in exchange for room and board. I took on a job as a cobbler's assistant but I was no good at it so the boss fired me. He said he hired me to make profit, not to support me. Another man offered me a job digging ditches in his vineyard. After I finished one ditch he took me to another place. There I met a couple of young men my age that were working for a neighbour. Out of curiosity I asked how much they were making? Eighty drachmas a day was the going rate. Discouraged by the fact that I was working for nothing, a few days later I quit. As well as working for nothing, the farmer hardly cared about me and often left me without provisions. After that I joined four others who had done the same. We pooled our resources and rented a run down warehouse for forty drachmas a month. We did odd jobs in the community to earn money for expenses.
        By now I was getting desperate about going home and seriously began to look at ways to get out. Of all the civilian people from the community that I asked for help only two showed any interest. They advised me to retain a lawyer and recommended one in the city of Iraklion. One day, together with another man I went and met with the lawyer. Before he would help me though he recommended I bring him letters of character reference. With those, he would make appeals on my behalf through official channels. I did as he asked and then waited. Months passed and no reply. It appeared that all my inquiries were ignored, my pleas fell on deaf ears. At one point I got so upset that I stormed into the police station and demanded to see the police chief. He was kind enough to see me and offered to answer my questions. Without hesitation I got to the point and bluntly asked, "Why am I still here?" He was honest enough to tell me that as far as my record was concerned his office had nothing against me, the problem was at the Lerin district. He told me, "Your neighbours don't want you back." On his advice I then petitioned the Ministry of the Interior.
        A month later, the local police sent me to the Iraklion office where I got news of my release. The same police chief I visited earlier gave me my papers to freedom. I was so happy I decided to spend the night in the city. I rented a hotel room and even went to a movie.
        The next day walking down the street I was stormed by the police and arrested for skipping town without permission. I showed them my release papers but they refused to recognize them. They had papers of their own and I had to serve more time.
        Locked up in a cell I pleaded with them to talk to the chief but they refused. Finally, one of them went to the post office (the police station had no telephone) and called the ministry. When he came back he apologized and released me. My papers superceded those from the Lerin district and I was a free man. The next day I got my ticket and left. I was eligible for free transportation but I had to go back to the police station to obtain it. I didn't want to go back so I paid my own fare. I took the ferry from the port of Piraeus to Solun then the train from Solun to Lerin and arrived in Oshchima on January 17th, 1952, penniless and with no material possessions.
        I found my home empty, looted of all our possessions. Everything was gone, my father's tools, our farming tools, furniture and clothing, everything. My parents, along with ninety-percent of Oshchimians, abandoning everything and fled the country in a hurry to avoid death by Greek bombs. When the war was over no one was allowed to return. My entire family was now gone and I was left all alone.
        The day after my arrival, as required, I reported to the police station in Zhelevo. I showed the authorities my release papers and in return I received my identification card and travel pass which restricted me to a radius of thirty kilometers.
        Three days later I received a summons to report to the military headquarters at Zhelevo. The moment I walked into the office, the man in charge looked at me and said, "You will die at a blink of an eye." He then told me to turn around and go home. To this day I am still pondering the meaning of his remark.
        A day later I received another summons to report to Zhelevo for an interview with the plain-clothes police. When I inquired why I was summoned, one of them asked me what was happening in Oshchima. To this I recounted my days events, i.e. what I did that day, which fields I visited, and so on. He then asked me not to be naive and to tell him what he was interested in, i.e. my neighbours activities, not my own. After telling him that I didn't associate much with my neighbours, he got upset and told me to leave and come back the next day. When I asked why I had to come back his reply was, "To can keep an eye on you." His smart remark made me mad so I asked, "Why don't you give me a bed next to yours so that way you can keep an eye on me all the time, even when I am asleep?" He became furious and told me off. He then changed his mind and told me to see him once a week on Sundays.
        The next Sunday he again asked me, "What is happening in your village?" Again I gave him the same answer. This time he told me to get lost and never come back, which suited me fine. I think he was trying to make me into a collaborator to spy on my neighbours.
        A little while later, the police again summoned me to Zhelevo. This time they gave me a letter with instructions to report to the military authorities in Maniuk, Kostur. After I arrived there and showed them the letter, they told me to go back home. They said there was no need for me to be there, as they hadn't asked for me. I didn't even care to speculate about what games the police were playing with me.
        A couple of years later, the plain-clothes police again summoned me to Zhelevo. This time they confiscated my travel pass. They also informed me that until further notice, I was under house arrest and confined to the borders of Oshchima. No reason was given except that I now needed permission from the chief of police to travel.
        One day I got sick and needed medical attention so I went to Zhelevo and paid a visit to the police chief. The chief got furious about my leave without permission. I explained my situation that I needed to see a doctor and the closest one was in Lerin. He refused to give me a pass and made all sorts of excuses about how I could escape if he was not careful. I told him again that I was sick and needed to see a doctor. He said he needed to see a doctor's report first, to prove that I was really sick, before he could issue me a travel pass. So I asked, how was I to do that when there is no doctor in the vicinity? He said that was my problem and not his. I asked again, what am I supposed to do now, die? He said yes! Die! That will solve both our problems. I did see a doctor but without permission. A truck driver helped me out.
        Another time I was going back to Oshchima from shopping in Zhelevo when suddenly a jeep screeched to a halt. It was the plain-clothes policeman. He jumped out of the jeep and started yelling at me in front of another man sitting in the jeep. "How dare you leave Oshchima without my permission?" he exclaimed. My temper was rising and I had had enough of this man so I yelled back at him. In front of his companion I said, "If you think I am so dangerous then why don't you arrest me right now, and put me away for good?" Without a word, he stormed back to his jeep and left. Two years passed before I got my travel rights back.
        I left Greece in 1965 and immigrated to Canada. I went back to visit family in the Republic of Macedonia in 1975 and decided to visit Oshchima one more time. I found my house all locked up. When I inquired, I found out a Vlah family was using it, as a barn to store winter-feed for the sheep. The new owner told me the Greek Government gave him the house and he refused to let me in. I pleaded with the man and told him I just wanted to see it one more time. My father had built this house, I was born and raised here, also my children were born and raised here. Still he refused to let me in.
        I got upset and complained to the authorities in Lerin who couldn't help me either. They said, if I wanted a house they would be glad to give me one down south in Greece proper. When I showed dissatisfaction, they told me if I didn't like their answers I could sue the Greek Government. From there I went to see a lawyer who firmly advised me to drop it before I ended up in jail. He said, "You know they are perfectly capable of sending you to jail and they will do it if you don't stop right now." I was still upset and after returning to the Republic of Macedonia I made a point of seeing the newspaper editor of Nova Makedonija. I asked him to write a story about my ordeal but he too refused me. The editor told me he wanted to, personally, but his country couldn't risk upsetting relations with Greece.
        Nikola is the author's father. You can contact the author via his e-mail: [email protected]
        The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

        Comment

        • The LION will ROAR
          Senior Member
          • Jan 2009
          • 3231

          #5
          Ilija Dimovski – Gotse’s Story
          Part 3
          War on two Fronts
          By Risto Kirjazovski (Nova Makedonija)
          Translated from Macedonian to English and edited by Risto Stefov
          Besides fighting against the Fascist occupier, the fighters from Aegean Macedonia were leading an exhausting fight against the armed counter-bands (local bands organized and armed by the Italians), particularly in the Lerin and Kostur Regions, which were eventually disarmed with help from the Macedonian fighters from Vardar Macedonia.
          On account of Ilija Domovski – Gotse’s participation and contribution in the National Struggle for Liberation in Vardar Macedonia, Ilija earned a Partisan memorable mention in 1941.
          After long indecisions, the Communist Party of Greece during its Second World Conference held in December 1942, reached a decision to lead a massive armed struggle against the occupier.
          Based on that decision, in early 1943 a number of Partisans were deployed in groups in Lerin Region among whom was also Ilija Dimovski – Gotse.
          The First Detachments
          According to one source, on February 28th, according to another on March 1st, 1943, the Partisan detachment “Vicho”, led by Ilija Dimovski – Gotse, was formed in the village Lagen. A few days later Bitola Partisans from Vardar Macedonia also joined the Vicho detachment. Among those included were the brothers Anesti and Gavro Panovski, Trajche Gruevski and Kole Stefanovski. The Vicho detachment represented a practical expression of the brotherly cooperation between the freedom movements in Aegean and Vardar Macedonia, a detachment formed by Macedonians from two regions and by Greeks.
          Here is what Lazo Hadzhi Popovski had to say: “During the winter of 1942 when a number of Macedonians from Vardar Macedonia belonging to the “Pelister”, “Dame Gruev” and “Yane Sandanski” detachments, illegally crossed the border into Aegean Macedonia and spent the winter there, a connection (a brainchild of the Lerin Region Organization, B.M.) was made between these people and the Greek party which resulted in cooperation and joint operations.
          This was of great political and military importance and resulted in the formation of the first Partisan detachment in the Lerin Region in the spring of 1943 with Ilija Dimovski – Gotse as its commanding officer.”
          In mid-1943, the Bitola-Prespa detachment “Yane Sandanski” which, by orders from general headquarters of the Peoples’ Liberation Front in Macedonia was sent to Lerin Region, near Lerin, to form close ties with “Vicho”, the Lerin partisan detachment.
          United in the Fight for Liberation
          During one of the leadership meetings between the two detachments the following items were discussed:
          1. The detachments will remain separated and will be lead by their own commanders unless emergency defensive action is required in which case the detachments will be coordinated by central command.
          2. The detachments will strive to gain the trust of the Macedonian population in Greece and elicit its support to fight against the Italian and German occupiers.
          3. The detachments will declare war against the Greek and Bulgarian propaganda in the territory of Lerin and Kostur Regions.
          4. The detachments will be responsible for the disarming of the counter-bands organized by the Italians.
          5. The detachments will be responsible for leading a propaganda campaign designed to bring the Macedonian and Greek people closer together and to further isolate them from the Greek and Bulgarian propaganda.
          6. All communications between the detachments and the local people should be done in the Macedonian language because the people in the Lerin and Kostur Regions are predominantly Macedonian.
          7. How the Macedonian question is answered (with emphasis) will depend on the Macedonian people alone. The drawing of borders will be determined later. The most important actions to be taken today will be jointly waging a war against a common enemy. The Macedonian Partisans will be fighting to free Macedonia and the Greek Partisans will be fighting to free Greece in a united effort. Together we can defeat the enemy.
          All detachment meetings held with the people in the Lerin and Kostur Region villages were conducted in both Macedonian and Greek. As planned, the meetings served as platforms for gathering and informing the people on current politics and the war situation. As a result of these activities more and more armed Macedonians (armed by the occupier), surrendered their arms and joined the ranks of the partisans.
          On May 22nd, 1943 in the village Prekopana, Lerin Region, the “Gotse Delchev” detachment was formed by combining fighters from the “Dame Gruev” detachment and from the newly recruited fighters.
          The Disarming of the Counter-Bands
          The formation of the “Gotse Delchev” detachment was welcomed by Naum Shupurkovski - Leon, the political commissar of the Lerin Region partisan detachment “Vicho”. In his speech he emphasized the importance of the help offered by the partisans from Vardar Macedonia against the disarming of the counter-bands in Lerin and Kostur Regions.
          On July 1st, 1943 the detachment “Dame Gruev” broke away from the detachments “Vicho” and “Gotse Delchev” and crossed over the border into Vardar Prespa. The “Vicho” and “Gotse Delchev” detachments, commended by Ilija Dimovski – Gotse continued with their mission in disarming the counter-bands with much success. Without resistance the counter-bands surrendered their arms and joined on masse the peoples’ freedom movement.
          Around July 18th and 19th, 1943, after a twenty day mission in the Lerin and Kostur Regions, the “Gotse Delchev” detachment also crossed over into Vardar Macedonia.
          The military and material aid provided by the Macedonian Partisans and the common military actions between Aegean and Vardar detachments, in spite of all Greek Communist Party obstacles, were of great importance in the awakening of the freedom movement in Aegean Macedonia.
          Here is what Andreas Dzimas, member of the Central Committee of the Greek Communist Party and commissar of the main headquarters of the Greek National Liberation Army of Greece, had to say:
          To be continued…
          The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

          Comment

          • The LION will ROAR
            Senior Member
            • Jan 2009
            • 3231

            #6
            Kosta’s Story

            RAINBOW is the political organization of the Macedonian ethnic minority living within the boundaries of the Greek state, and engaged in the country's domestic political scene

            Greece continues its discriminations against ethnic Macedonians from Northern Greece
            “He was born in Kelli/Gornitsevo in 1951, he lived there for 18 whole years, then he immigrated to Canada. Last August he was informed that his Greek citizenship was revoked”.
            One more case regarding removal of Greek citizenship from ethnic Macedonians became known this summer. Mr. Konstandinos (Kosta) Ilias from the village Kelli/Gornitsevo, Florina/Lerinsko, economic emigrant in Toronto, Canada was informed some days ago that he had lost his Greek citizenship.
            It all started when Mr. Ilias went (in the beginning of August) in the municipality of Amindeo/Surovichevo in order to apply for a birth certificate. Full of irony and sarcasm an employee of the Municipality told him: “I cannot give you the certificate sir … your Greek citizenship is taken away”.
            After such a statement, Mr. Ilias started questioning the town clerk about what happened and why he was not informed about it.
            According to Mr. Ilias, the town clerk, wishing to get rid of him, literally threw an application form in his face, telling him that no matter how many requests he would do to regain his Greek citizenship, they would all be in vain.
            In addition, Mr. Ilias was informed that both of his brothers, also economic immigrants to Canada, had also lost their Greek citizenships.
            Three adults, ethnic Macedonians, Greek citizens left Kelli/Gornitsevo – Florina/Lerinsko seeking a better life in Canada.
            The only thing they did there was to continue living according to the customs of their birth place. They were married in Greek Orthodox churches in Toronto, they baptized their children in the same churches, but they speak Macedonian, a HUGE “crime” they’re continuously committing.
            Therefore, Greece decided to exemplarily punish them, by removing them their citizenship.
            In theory, Greece is a very democratic country, a county, which in every occasion claims it fully respects human rights, including those of self determination or one’s right to use his/her mother language.
            This is one more case proving that Greece doesn’t really respect these rights. This method (removing citizenship) is implemented by the “deep state” and its secret service to the Greek citizens who are “found” abroad to have expressed a different identity. Apparently, then, the secret services inform the Ministry of Interior and the final outcome is the removal of citizenship.
            We expect an answer from the Greek authorities on how many ethnic Macedonians from Greece are black-listed and how many of them have lost their Greek citizenship.
            EFA-Rainbow is fully aware that for many years (see Misalis, Markou and many other cases), Law 3370/95 (article 20, par. 1G) is implemented against members of the Macedonian minority in Greece.
            Ultimate goal of the Greek authorities, except of course removing Greek citizenships from ethnic Macedonians, is to intimidate all Macedonians from Greece who live inside and outside the country, their families and close relatives. In other words, to keep them off from expressing their different, Macedonian, ethnic identity.
            The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

            Comment

            • The LION will ROAR
              Senior Member
              • Jan 2009
              • 3231

              #7
              My First Visit to Macedonia, or Jewels Memory of Zhelevo

              September, 2005

              by Jewel S Stoyan


              It is mid August and I am still on my journey around Europe but I am stopping to reflect on my memory of my first visit to my grandparents village. A village they left 100 years ago for a new life in Canada.

              I believe my grandfather made the right decision. I believe he had a vision for a better life and could see there would be nothing but oppression, repression, and battles for freedom, which ultimately would result in the loss of more lives.

              The first time he left Zhelevo, it was under Turkish occupation, at the turn of the century and by the time he was able to get his young family out safely and into Canada, Zhelevo had undergone much strife through freedom battles, but sadly, at that time, in 1920 they were under Greek rule.

              I believe he had, had enough of the degradation and humiliation he experienced as a young man and decided to seek a new land with new ideas. Although no one wants to give up their roots or homeland, but.... when it does not seem like your home anymore, and your human rights are taken away without hope of a better future it is time to move on.

              I believe he thought he could raise his new family in a new land teaching them to be proud of their heritage. Teaching them to never forget who they are and where their roots come from, he felt it would be better to have your family alive to be able to carry on their heritage in a new land.

              Enthusiasm turns to Frustration

              The anticipation of visiting my ancestor's homeland was exciting and I looked forward to this time with enthusiasm. I thought people there would greet me with the same excitement to meet me as I them. I had hopes of seeing the remains of my family home.

              I was hoping for more, but what I found was a mostly deserted ghost town. Empty old houses, barred buildings, deserted schools, blocked stores, streets that were once going concerns with lively youth and bustling townspeople were now in ruins, taken over by the birds, and rodents of the land. I walked the streets with a disappointed frustration, thinking why and how this could happen to such a beautiful place. This town could have been so much more.

              Although, I think the countryside is lush and beautiful with mountains spouting fast flowing water that is pure and cold, with air that is clean and fresh......... the people who I met seem to be either old die-hards stuck in the past afraid to speak of their Macedonian identity, middle age people convinced of their Greek identity or the very young generation confused about their identity.

              The old village of Zhelevo built on the side of a beautiful lush mountain with a river running through it could have developed into so much more, but alas..... its destiny is to continue only through the hearts and memories of the ones who left it.

              Who Are You?

              Some people who I met, who were in my age decade (over 50) called themselves Greek and proclaimed they were proud of it because the Greek government had given them so much.

              How unfortunate for them, in my view, to have grown up there under these circumstances. These were the people whose grandparents did not emigrate to Canada after the uprising of 1913.

              Of course the Greek government gave them an education like most countries in the world, education is provided....but what kind of education are they getting? That is the question, going to school learning the history of the land and people but what history is it? Education through books written by the Greeks are going to be the history they want the students to know not necessarily all the truth.

              As a teacher, I know the books were definitely going to be biased.

              The young minds of the last 85 years were taught exactly what the government in power wanted them to learn. Most of them have immigrated to North America now and some have come back to rebuild the family home for a summer residence of retirement. How nice for them but how unfortunate for the history of the town.

              In my estimation they had not only been brainwashed but they had been the puppets of the Greek government. The people I met were actually afraid to acknowledge the idea that they were of a Macedonian culture that was different than Greek.

              I know they were not of a Greek heritage because one old family I met was actually distant cousins of mine. But, as far as they were concerned, they were Greek and proud to say they were. In fact, I was ordered not to print their name or picture. In fact, it was very difficult to take any pictures of anyone after they found out I proclaimed to be Macedonian.

              What a shame for my people to have erased their ethnic heritage so easily. They did not seem to have the backbone of their forefathers. I feel very sorry for those who choose to think in such a narrow way and very angry that the Greeks have tried to erase all traces of the Macedonian culture and people. Such a selfish and egotistical way of thinking.

              Those Greeks who are of this way of thinking, and I know it is not all of the Greeks, are a disgrace to their race. The only chink of hope in this scenario is a group of courageous people Macedonian, Greek, Canadian and American and many other countries who are fighting for the basic human rights of the Macedonian minorities in countries such as Greece, Albania, and Bulgaria. The Vinozhito political party of the Macedonian minority in Greece is what I will talk about in the next issue.

              After visiting what is left of Zhelevo, I know my grandfather made the right decision. After meeting some of the people in the village, I am very happy my grandparents made a new life for their family in Canada.

              For comments or concerns contact [email protected]
              The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

              Comment

              • The LION will ROAR
                Senior Member
                • Jan 2009
                • 3231

                #8
                Seeking Information on Lazar Temelko from Sveta Petka



                Lazar Temelko

                As you are aware, Macedonia has experienced many conflicts in the past which left her scarred with wounds that will not heal. The violence and turmoil shattered the lives of many families whom to this day, are still trying to reconcile and bring closure to their loss of loved ones. Recently I received the following letter from a young man who is looking for his grandfather and needs your help in finding him. Here is his story;


                --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Lazar Temelko was born in Sveta Petka (renamed - Agios Paraskevi), Lerinsko, in 1920. We know that he was very active throughout the German occupation, working with British commandos at times, to sabotage German supply lines and convoys. When the civil war broke out in Greece, we know he travelled to Skopje with other partisans where he received special training. The photo above was taken in Skopje, in early 1946.




                He spent a lot of time coordinating partisan activities from Dragosh, which is a small village close to Sveta Petka on the Yugoslav side of the border. He was a lieutenant in the Greek Democratic Army by 1947. We know that he fought in Mechevo, in Epirus, in October 1947. He fought again in the battle for Konitsa, which started on December 25, 1947, and ended on January 4, 1948.

                Those who were with him during this battle say that he was badly wounded on his left side and above his left eye by shrapnel. He was evacuated to a hospital in Koritsa, Albania, where people say he died. Things become complicated here.

                People continued to say that Lazar was alive and that he was actively fighting the Greek Army. Because of his wounds, he had to get around on horseback. They say he was killed in an ambush in 1949 after a bitter fight, and men in his own unit buried his body in the woods.

                Then in 1959, a distant family relative who was living in Poland visited our village. She told my family that she had seen and spoken to Lazar in a town called Lesnik. My family tried to get more information from the Red Cross, but these efforts were met with resistance from the communist government in Poland.

                Eventually, my family gave up. I would like to know if anybody has any new information about my dedo.

                --------------------------------------------------------------------------------


                If anyone has any information about Lazar Temelko please contact me at [email protected]
                The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

                Comment

                • The LION will ROAR
                  Senior Member
                  • Jan 2009
                  • 3231

                  #9
                  A Soldier Lost - Lazar Temelkov's Story
                  By Risto Stefov



                  From left to right, Blazhe Dimev (holding the Sten),
                  Todor Apotev (Lazar's brother in law),
                  Lazar Temelko (holding the Schmeiser)
                  and Evda Temelkova, Lazar's wife.


                  It has been fifty-six years since Para last saw her brother Lazar, whom she affectionately calls "Lale". Her last contact with him was in the cornfields of Sveta Petka in August 1946 and since then she has not known his whereabouts and whether he still lives or died in battle.

                  This is the story of Lazar Temelkov, a husband, father, brother and grandfather who has been snatched by fate and needs to come home. His family is looking for him and needs your help to locate him and bring closure to his life.

                  Lazar is the son of Yosif and Boiana Temelkov. He was born in 1920 in the village Sveta Petka located about 12 kilometers north of Lerin and a stones throw away from the Greek-Macedonian border.

                  As a young man, Lazar finished grade six in the Sveta Petka public school after which his father enrolled him in the Lerin Gymnasium. Unfortunately, Lazar had no interest in learning and soon afterwards quit school and went to work on the family homestead.

                  As was traditional in those days, and labour was in great demand, Yosif and Boina encouraged Lazar to find and bring home a wife. Lazar was only fifteen when he married Evda, a young lady from his village. Life was harsh but peaceful and Lazar, along with his siblings Blazhe and Para, enjoyed the relative quiet of the Sveta Petka countryside.

                  At age 21, Lazar was drafted by the Greek Military and sent to Kalamata in Peloponisos for training. Before his training was over however, his draft was cut short due to Greece's capitulation to Nazi Germany in April 1941. According to Mihail (Para's husband), after the Germans occupied Greece, the Greek army was disbanded and the soldiers were released on their own accord. There being no other available transportation at the time, Lazar had to walk all the way home.

                  During the German occupation Lazar became active in the local Partisan movement. Later, after coming into contact with the resistance fighters from Vardar Macedonia, he joined Gotche's Cheta (freedom fighters) and in 1944 crossed over into Yugoslavia.

                  During the next two years, Lazar was sent to Bulkes (a Partisan military base) for officer training where he achieved the rank of Captain (Lohagos). During his training, on many occasions, Lazar was dispatched to Aegean Macedonia to conduct propaganda missions. During one of these missions in June 1945, he was recognized by a local collaborator and reported to the Greek authorities. Unaware of this, Lazar was caught and arrested. While being arrested, the officer tried to club Lazar on the head with his rifle. Being much stronger however, Lazar overpowered the man and took his rifle from him. Lazar could have shot the man and fled if he wanted to but fearing that harm may come to his family, he gave back the rifle and surrendered. Fortunately, his actions worked to his advantage and after spending a month in the Lerin jail he was released unharmed. The authorities could pin nothing on him especially after the officer's testimony about the rifle.

                  When he was released from jail, Lazar was escorted home and after obtaining a guaranty from his father that he would not leave again, he was placed in Yosif's custody.

                  Unfortunately, Lazar broke his promise to his father and soon afterwards left again. According to Para, he had to go back to Bulkes or his entire family would have been at risk of being harmed.

                  The moment Lazar left, the local spy wasted no time and reported him to the Greek authorities. Yosif was quickly called in by the police to report on the situation and was immediately arrested. According to Mihail, "the old man was beaten all over his body until he turned black and blue". It was truly a horrible experience for the entire family. After spending a month in jail, Yosif was released but his ordeal was not yet over.

                  After Lazar fled, he returned to Bulkes to complete his training. He graduated as Captain (Lohagos) in the Greek Democratic Army. When word of this got around, the local authorities back home became furious and erased his name from all government records. Also as a consequence of this, a one million drahmas bounty was placed on his head, for his capture dead or alive.

                  As a result of Lazar's activities, Yosif paid the ultimate price. On August 1946 Yosif was arrested, charged, and sentenced to 101 years (exoria), his sentence to be served in a prison camp on the desert island of Yura in the Aegean Sea. Eventually, he was put in isolation in the "Edi Kule" prison in Solun. Edi Kule was one of the worst jails in Greece, left over from the Turkish era.

                  Before leaving for Canada in 1951, Para went to the Solun jail to visit her father. This would be the first and last time she would visit with him while he was in jail. The guards told her that Yosif was in isolation and they had strict orders not to allow visitors. After pleading with them however, she got her wish. Unfortunately, her experience was a sad one and would last her a lifetime. High walls surrounded the prison and the cells were devoid of any sunlight. Her father spent his time in isolation away from human contact and in total darkness.

                  As fate would have it however, the political situation in Greece began to improve. In 1953 by a general amnesty, all political prisoners, including Yosif were released from the dreaded jails.

                  As for Lazar, the last time he was seen by his family was in August 1946. He dropped by the village for a quick visit and under cover of the Sveta Petka cornfields, he briefly met with his sister Para and Mihail her husband.

                  Another piece of evidence places Lazar in Dragosh in October 1946. I have a copy of a letter that Lazar wrote to his first cousin John Simons in Detroit USA. The letter was mailed from Dragosh.

                  All other information received beyond this point came from second hand sources who claim to have either seen or been in contact with Lazar.

                  There are claims that Lazar, code named "Sandanski", was with Gotche's Cheta in October or November 1946, when they crossed over from Vardar Macedonia into Prespa and joined the Greek Partisans there. There are also claims that Lazar fought in Mechevo, in Epirus in October 1947, Gramos and again in the battle for Konitsa, which started on December 25, 1947, and ended on January 4, 1948. Those who were with him during this battle claim that he was badly wounded on his left side, and above his left eye and after being evacuated to a hospital in Korcha, Albania, they say he died.

                  What makes Lazar's story complicated is that some claim to have seen him alive, after he was reported to be dead.

                  People continued to say that Lazar was alive and that he was actively fighting the Greek Army. Because of his wounds, he had to get around on horseback. They say he was killed in an ambush in 1949 after a bitter fight, and men in his own unit buried his body in the woods. According to Naum Dimov, who heard the story from other people, a Partisan was found wearing Lazar's American-made watch and unique boots. When the Partisan was questioned as to where he got the watch and boots, he replied "from a dead man who was about to be buried."

                  Then in 1959, a distant family relative from Armensko who was living in Poland visited Sveta Petka. She told Lazar's son Pane that she had seen and spoken to Lazar in a town called Lesnik in Zgozelets, Poland. The information seemed to be authentic because the woman was able to accurately describe Lazar's wounds on the leg, arm and head.

                  After that encounter, Lazar's family tried to get more information through the Red Cross, but their efforts were met with resistance from the communist governments in Poland and Albania.

                  Frustrated by the inaction, eventually, the family stopped looking.

                  If anyone has any information about Lazar Temelko please contact me at [email protected]

                  To read this article in Macedonian click here
                  See Related Article: Lazar Temelko from Sveta Petka
                  The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

                  Comment

                  • The LION will ROAR
                    Senior Member
                    • Jan 2009
                    • 3231

                    #10
                    My apologies that it has allot of reading...
                    And I'm sure many have read these articles..
                    If anyone has more stories to tell please post them on the forum..
                    I believe that not only the Macedonians but the rest of the world should know...

                    Pozdrav
                    The LION will ROAR
                    The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

                    Comment

                    • osiris
                      Senior Member
                      • Sep 2008
                      • 1969

                      #11
                      good posts lion keep roaring, i have a cousin whose father was also lost in the haze of war and never again found.

                      Comment

                      • The LION will ROAR
                        Senior Member
                        • Jan 2009
                        • 3231

                        #12
                        Originally posted by osiris View Post
                        good posts lion keep roaring, i have a cousin whose father was also lost in the haze of war and never again found.
                        .
                        Thanks OSIRIS,
                        There are thousand of stories that we need to tell and document them.... so we never forget?
                        The Macedonians originates it, the Bulgarians imitate it and the Greeks exploit it!

                        Comment

                        • Venom
                          Member
                          • Sep 2008
                          • 445

                          #13
                          Man, Risto Stefov's dedo was born in Sveta Petka, which is where my family is from. I am sure he would of known my Dedo, who was also a Partizan in and around Sveta Petka, Kladorabi and Lerin.

                          osiris, you're from Egej too aren't you?
                          S m r t - i l i - S l o b o d a

                          Comment

                          • Bill77
                            Senior Member
                            • Oct 2009
                            • 4545

                            #14
                            Thank you TLWR. This is exactly what i wanted. Actual faces and stories just makes it more real for our and future generation. Please keep it up and i encourage others to build this libary of stories and pictures up. Evan if people can find Newspaper articals will be handy. I recently discovered some gruesom images of heads that were decapitated and displayed with proud looking Greeks beside them. I need to search again see if i can find them and then i will ask for advise from the Administrators if i should post them or not.

                            I strongly beleive they should be put up evan if they are disturbing, Because the world must whitnes what our people went thrugh and the images should never get lost or forgoten.

                            I never realised that this thread exisited before opening a new one on this subject. so there is no confusion, we will keep this one alive. cheers.
                            Last edited by Bill77; 10-22-2009, 05:03 AM.
                            http://www.macedoniantruth.org/forum/showthread.php?p=120873#post120873

                            Comment

                            • Bill77
                              Senior Member
                              • Oct 2009
                              • 4545

                              #15
                              Originally posted by Venom View Post
                              Man, Risto Stefov's dedo was born in Sveta Petka, which is where my family is from. I am sure he would of known my Dedo, who was also a Partizan in and around Sveta Petka, Kladorabi and Lerin.

                              osiris, you're from Egej too aren't you?
                              Kladorabi????? Man this is getting realy interesting. The story and image of my relative on my next post was from kladorabi and its where they ambushed him killed him and paraded him. wow small world.
                              Last edited by Bill77; 10-22-2009, 05:04 AM.
                              http://www.macedoniantruth.org/forum/showthread.php?p=120873#post120873

                              Comment

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