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  • Makedonska_Kafana
    Senior Member
    • Aug 2010
    • 2642

    #31


    http://www.makedonskakafana.com

    Macedonia for the Macedonians

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    • Makedonska_Kafana
      Senior Member
      • Aug 2010
      • 2642

      #32
      Originally posted by UMDiaspora.org
      - Bulgarian FM Visits St Cyril Methody Macedono-Bul. Church in Toronto

      Makedonska_Kafana was there...did you do anything to protest?
      I wasn't there, who told you that? Just for the record I have NEVER been inside that church and only once in St. George Macedono-Bulgarian Eastern Orthodox Church in 45 years.

      Who posted that BS - do you have a name?

      Meto, if this wasn't posted by you (professional organization) then you better stop letting several people use that user name to post on other forums because these things add up and will come back to bite the UMD.

      YouTube - MTO UMD 1 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSaJIjs1N8E&feature=player_embedded) YouTube - MTO UMD 2 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jJbPJch9dM&feature=player_embedded) http://macedoniantruth.org/forum/showthread.php?t=2631 :macedonia
      http://www.makedonskakafana.com

      Macedonia for the Macedonians

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      • Makedonska_Kafana
        Senior Member
        • Aug 2010
        • 2642

        #33
        New World Order - Tesko na sveto - Blind leading the blind again
        Last edited by Makedonska_Kafana; 10-01-2010, 09:26 AM.
        http://www.makedonskakafana.com

        Macedonia for the Macedonians

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        • lavce pelagonski
          Senior Member
          • Nov 2009
          • 1993

          #34
          makster is you forum still running I cant log in
          Стравот на Атина од овој Македонец одел до таму што го нарекле „Страшниот Чакаларов“ „гркоубиец“ и „крвожеден комитаџија“.

          „Ако знам дека тука тече една капка грчка крв, јас сега би ја отсекол целата рака и би ја фрлил в море.“ Васил Чакаларов

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          • Makedonska_Kafana
            Senior Member
            • Aug 2010
            • 2642

            #35
            Originally posted by lavce pelagonski View Post
            makster is you forum still running I cant log in
            yes, register with another name and see if that works. it's not really a forum, a message centre.



            http://www.makedonskakafana.com

            Macedonia for the Macedonians

            Comment

            • Makedonska_Kafana
              Senior Member
              • Aug 2010
              • 2642

              #37
              YouTube - Risto Stefov - Republic of Macedonia
              http://www.makedonskakafana.com

              Macedonia for the Macedonians

              Comment

              • Makedonska_Kafana
                Senior Member
                • Aug 2010
                • 2642

                #38


                http://www.makedonskakafana.com

                Macedonia for the Macedonians

                Comment

                • Makedonska_Kafana
                  Senior Member
                  • Aug 2010
                  • 2642

                  #39
                  Nikola Stefou’s Life
                  September 20th, 1927 – October 9th, 2010

                  Nikola Stefou, son of Risto Stefou and Sofia Bajovska, was born on September 20th, 1927 and passed away peacefully on Saturday, October 9th, 2010 at his home at 3:30 pm . He was brother to six siblings; Lazo, Dafina, Sevda, Vasil, Leftera and Aleksandar, husband of Sofia, father of Risto, Katina and Lazo and grandfather of Philip, David, Gordon, Laura, Nikolis and Luke.

                  Nikola was born in the village Oshchima located in Lerin Region, Greek occupied Macedonia . He lived through turbulent times including the Second World War and the Greek Civil War. When most of his brothers and sisters were called upon to join the liberation movement against the occupiers he was left behind to look after his parents and the household. At age nineteen, to prevent him from joining his brothers and sisters, the Greek regime in 1947 took him away and jailed him for five years in the Greek island concentration camps.

                  Nikola’s life was hard being in jail but was even harder after he was released as he found himself all alone with his family all gone and his home abandoned. The Greek Civil War had taken its toll on the entire region in Greek occupied Macedonia and those who fled the country in 1949 to save themselves became permanent war refugees as Greece would not allow them to return, most to this day.

                  After being released from prison Nikola tried to make a life for himself at his father’s home and in 1952 married Sofia Mavrou from Zhelevo with whom he had three children, Risto, Katina and Lazo. But when he found out that his children too would have no hope of a good future in Greece , he decided that he had had enough of Greece and left for Canada in 1965 to join his siblings, most of whom had done the same. Nikola left his home and after establishing himself in Toronto , in 1966 he brought the rest of his family to be with him.

                  He and his family had a peaceful and prosperous life in Canada for which they are grateful.

                  Following is a message from the Macedonian military officers stationed here at Canadian Forces Base Borden who send their condolences.

                  The message reads;

                  “When this world sends a Macedonian away he is not an island all alone but a part of a stronger force called Macedonia . That is why the parting of a Macedonian pains everyone as if breaking away a piece of mother Macedonia .” Colonel Metodija Velitskovski, Commander of the 2nd Macedonian Mechanized Infantry Brigade, CFB Borden.


                  The Greek Prison Camps - Nikola’s Story

                  By Risto Stefov
                  [email protected]
                  September 2009

                  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 first person just the way I head it myself. Nikola is my father.

                  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 Oshchimians 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 food and water. 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 drahma a day (four drahmas 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 P’pli to avoid the Greek police that was stationed there. When we arrived we met up with Mito Tupurkovski, a Partisan officer and fellow Oshchimian, 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 Epirus 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 Ljubojno. 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 Ljuboijno. 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 for home. 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 Epirus. 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 we were both alive and 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 Epirus, Anadol (Anatolia Turkey) and even worked in 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 in 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 prison 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 drahmas 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.
                  Micronisos 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. 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 canned 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 drahmas 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 drahmas 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 see 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 they said 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 day’s activities, 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 keep an eye on you.” His smart remark made me mad so I sarcastically said “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 turn 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 more 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 my house one more time. My father had built this house, I was born and raised here, 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.
                  http://www.makedonskakafana.com

                  Macedonia for the Macedonians

                  Comment

                  • Makedonska_Kafana
                    Senior Member
                    • Aug 2010
                    • 2642

                    #40
                    Bog da go prosti
                    http://www.makedonskakafana.com

                    Macedonia for the Macedonians

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                    • makedonche
                      Senior Member
                      • Oct 2008
                      • 3242

                      #41
                      Bog da go prosti! Zdravia do familiata!
                      On Delchev's sarcophagus you can read the following inscription: "We swear the future generations to bury these sacred bones in the capital of Independent Macedonia. August 1923 Illinden"

                      Comment

                      • julie
                        Senior Member
                        • May 2009
                        • 3869

                        #42
                        Bog da go prosti

                        OziMak, did you read this story? Then spout your verbal diarrhea to the deceased man's son , about the wonders of giving up the Macedonian name, like a common whore. How dare you shit on Macedonian blood and suffering
                        "The moral revolution - the revolution of the mind, heart and soul of an enslaved people, is our greatest task."__________________Gotse Delchev

                        Comment

                        • Makedonska_Kafana
                          Senior Member
                          • Aug 2010
                          • 2642

                          #43
                          Originally posted by julie View Post
                          Bog da go prosti

                          OziMak, did you read this story? Then spout your verbal diarrhea to the deceased man's son , about the wonders of giving up the Macedonian name, like a common whore. How dare you shit on Macedonian blood and suffering
                          what did he say?
                          http://www.makedonskakafana.com

                          Macedonia for the Macedonians

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                          • Makedonska_Kafana
                            Senior Member
                            • Aug 2010
                            • 2642

                            #44
                            Falsity of Greece vs Reality of Macedonia

                            By Risto Stefov
                            [email protected]
                            October 17, 2010

                            On many occasions we have looked at Greece from the outside in, the way outsiders and insiders of non-Greek origin perceive it. But we have yet to look at Greece from the inside, the way it sees itself. What makes Greece , Greece and Greeks, Greeks and what makes them claim that they are “pure” and “homogeneous”?

                            In this article we will examine the conditions under which Greece became or claims to have become “pure” and “homogeneous” and what it has done and is doing to protect its claims.

                            It seems that somewhere down the line Greeks developed amnesia and forgot their real past, the true roots from which they sprung prior to the formation of their Greek state in the early 1800’s. Somewhere down the line Greeks decided to adopt a fictitious but permanent national identity with a 2,500 year old bloodline. Thus it was decided that Greeks were Greeks because they were “Greeks by birth” and because “Greek blood” flowed through their veins. But that was not all; to be fully “Greeks” and members of the so-called “Greek nation” they also needed to demonstrate their loyalty to the Greek state. Otherwise they could not be full members of the Greek nation and could not be full citizens of the Greek state. In addition to being “born Greek”, being of “Greek blood” and being loyal to the Greek state, “prospective Greeks” needed to also speak the imposed Greek language and be of the Greek Orthodox faith.

                            If a person did not meet all of the above conditions they could not be “fully” Greek! But that was not all! Besides not being fully Greek, people who lacked even one of the above criteria posed a threat to the Greek concept of a “pure and homogeneous” Greek nation. Anyone lacking any of the above mentioned criteria was treated as a security threat to the Greek state. So to defend the integrity of the Greek nation and of the Greek state, Greece declared that such people did not exist and those not meeting all the above mentioned criteria were either “traitors”, “foreigners” or “agents” working for the interests of a foreign state and enemies of Greece!

                            To discourage people from openly expressing sentiments other than those prescribed by the Greek state, Greek authorities encourage their loyal citizens and the Greek legal system to publicly identify and vilify such people. So instead of protecting their rights as citizens of Greece , as prescribed by European and International law , Greece , a member of the United Nations and the European Union, continues to practice authoritarian traditions violating peoples’ human rights.

                            Unfortunately Greek political authorities are not the only culprits involved in abusing people in Greece . Greek judiciary and the Greek Orthodox Church also take the side of the state and instead of protecting the rights and freedoms of individuals they punish those who do not fully conform. As instruments of the Greek state, Greek courts and Greek Churches have always supported repressive regimes and military dictatorships, which promoted the “purity” and “homogeneity” of Greece .

                            Violations of human rights of various ethnic groups in Greece are justified by Greece ’s need to defend its “purity”, “homogeneity” and territorial integrity. So anyone who disagrees with this “Greek myth” is automatically labeled a non-Greek and therefore a potential enemy of Greece . Such “institutionalized discrimination” can be found in Article 19 of the Greek citizenship code. Here the code is specific about who is Greek and who is not and those who are not will have their Greek citizenship stripped if they leave Greece with no intention of returning. Many Macedonians and Turks have lost their Greek citizenship and properties in this way.

                            According to Article 25 in the 1975 amendment of the Greek constitution, Greece has the right to ask all its citizens “to fulfill the duty of social and national solidarity”. Why is this clause so important if everyone in Greece is Greek? A clause such as this implies that not only Greek citizens of non-Greek ethnicity exist in Greece but by definition they pose a threat to the “Greek myth”.

                            Article 25 also says that “abusive exercise of rights is not permitted”. Who decides what the limit of “exercise of rights” is? Apparently this clause was put in the Greek constitution to give the courts power to significantly restrict and limit human rights of individual Greek citizens. This includes freedom of religion, freedom of expression, freedom of association and freedom of movement. While on one hand the Constitution provides for all these freedoms, at least in theory, on the other hand it takes them away by giving the courts power to act against them.

                            As I stated earlier, the Greek Orthodox Church is an essential component of the Greek national identity. People who are not Orthodox Christians therefore cannot be fully Greek. Again, even though the Greek constitution officially supports “other religions” in Greece many non-Greek Orthodox Christians are denied their religious rights because they belong to so-called “unrecognized” by Greece churches or religions.

                            Although Greece , in 1963, ratified the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, it has ignored the convention’s provisions. When the Council of Europe reached a resolution that Greece , while under the junta, was guilty of violating the convention, its military rulers considered the resolution “an infringement on Greece ’s sovereignty”.

                            So looking at Greece from the inside out we see that Greek political authorities, in conjunction with the Greek legal system and the Greek Orthodox Church, have done everything in their power to promulgate the “Greek myth” that only “pure Greeks” live in an ethnically and nationally “homogeneous Greece”. This inflexible and monolithic approach to Greece ’s identity, unfortunately, leaves no room for diversity and therefore excludes everyone who does not fully conform. The biggest losers because of this are the Macedonian and Turkish people who live in Greece and who are still not recognized by Greece .

                            In practical terms then, how does Greece maintain its “pure” and “homogeneous” façade?

                            To explain the “unconformities” or what the Greek state calls “anomalies” Greek authorities have taken certain precautionary measures. For example, Greece calls the Macedonians “Slavophone Hellenes with a Greek national consciousness”. In other words, Macedonians are “Greeks” who speak a Slavic language. The Turks, Greece calls “Muslim Greeks” or Greeks who are of the Muslim religion. Neither Macedonians not Turks in Greece are allowed to call themselves Macedonians or Turks!

                            To bring itself to an acceptable state of “pureness” and “homogeneity” Greece , over the years, “Hellenized” everything from place names to peoples’ personal and surnames!

                            Right after the Greek state was created for the first time in 1829, Greek authorities changed all place names to correspond to ancient names and for those that it had no ancient names it invented new ones. As Greece , over the years, continued to physically grow and annex more territories it continued with its policies of “Hellenization”. After annexing Macedonian and Thracian territories in 1913, Greece continued with its well established assimilation and Hellenization policies; “Hellenizing” everything and everyone. In Macedonia for example, to remove all traces of the existence of Macedonians, it banned the Macedonian language and renamed all Macedonian personal and place names with Greek ones. After that the Greek Orthodox Church became the “Hellenizer” of the Macedonians by making sure that all Macedonian babies were baptized with Greek names.

                            Afterwards the Greek state continued to implement repressive policies and, through strict laws, punishments and oath taking, made sure that the population conformed and Greece retained its “purity” and “homogeneity”. Those people that Greece did not trust were placed on watch and made sure that their lives were made uncomfortable so that they would one day permanently leave Greece . Their properties and other assets would then be confiscated and awarded to “loyal Greeks”.

                            To discourage people from feeling “non-Greek” Greece introduced even more repressive measures. The Turks of Thrace, for example, were not allowed to purchase new properties or new machinery to farm their lands. In time as families grew they would not be able to support themselves and would have no choice but to leave Greece . Also many who decided to vacation in Turkey found themselves permanently exiled.

                            Macedonians on the other hand were equally oppressed by having their properties reduced through land re-distribution acts and through the denial of higher education and good paying jobs. Repressed economically, many Macedonians left Greece and became permanent refugees. Many civilian Macedonians, who left Greece as war refugees during the various wars, including the Greek Civil War, also became permanent refugees. After leaving Greece they were all permanently exiled and their properties were confiscated.

                            In short, Greek political authorities, with help from the Greek judicial system and the Greek Orthodox Church, have created a very rigid climate in Greece where a person can only be Greek if they fully accept the following conditions;

                            1. they are born Greek,
                            2. are of pure Greek blood,
                            3. are Orthodox Christians,
                            4. speak the Greek language, and
                            5. demonstrate their loyalty to the Greek state.

                            In other words, anyone who fully prescribes to these conditions can be a good Greek. Looking at this another way, anyone who does not meet even one of the above conditions would not be “fully” Greek and would be open to scrutiny at the Greek state’s discretion!

                            So where does that leave the Macedonians in Greece ?

                            There is no room for Macedonians or for any other ethnicity in Greece for that matter because of the rigidity of the Greek method by which the so-called “Greek identity” has been constructed. In addition to that, the existence of a Macedonian ethnic identity (or any other identity beside the Greek one) in Greece threatens Greek purity and homogeneity and therefore cannot be allowed to exist.

                            This however does not mean that “Macedonians do not exist” as Greece has claimed at every opportunity. Quite the opposite, unlike the fabricated Greek identity which was created by the Philhellenes and supported by the Greek state and its institutions, the Macedonian ethnic and national identity does exist. It is real and thriving. The fact that no state or institution has come to its aid or has given it its support means that the Macedonian identity is natural, supported by ordinary people at a grass roots level!

                            How long will Greece continue its charade of pretending to be “pure” and “homogeneous”? For as long as it can! As long as Macedonians and other people around the world continue to give the Greek myth credence then the charade will continue and the “fake” Greeks will continue to pretend to be “pure” Greeks! But worse than that, because of this, the Macedonians and other people living in Greece , including the Turks, are being denied their human rights.

                            Other articles by Risto Stefov:




                            Free electronic books by Risto Stefov available at:



                            Our Name is Macedonia

                            http://www.makedonskakafana.com

                            Macedonia for the Macedonians

                            Comment

                            • Makedonska_Kafana
                              Senior Member
                              • Aug 2010
                              • 2642

                              #45
                              YouTube - Macedonian Minister of Defense Reception Oct 8, 2010 (Toronto)
                              http://www.makedonskakafana.com

                              Macedonia for the Macedonians

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