When the Past Awakens: A Mother’s Pain

By Helena Kidd and Maria Avraam

Victorian Community Historical Awards,
Victorian Public Records Office in conjunction with Victorian Historical Society of Victoria.

When the Past Awakens’ is Maria Avraam’s real and brutally honest account of her life and thoughts, straight from the heart, with emotional intensity. If it wasn’t for Maria documenting her internal suffering in her diaries, her story, I believe, would not have been told. Her domineering mother was a constant battle of the mind and spirit. Maria endured mental and physical abuse from an arranged and forced marriage to a stranger. Arriving in Australia from her village in Cyprus presented even more challenges especially when she found herself alone, a deserted wife, with three small children to raise. Maria triumphs through the odds and proves to be a survivor. Following on, is ‘The Richmond House’ written by Helena Kidd, Maria’s first born. Helena brings a lighter tone, with her snippets of family life growing up in her uncle’s home. ‘The Richmond House’ is set in the 1960s and 1970s, overlapping in part to ‘When the Past Awakens’.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Dec 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796003161

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Copyright © 2019 by Helena Kidd.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/23/2021

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CONTENTS

DEDICATION

FOREWORD

COURAGE AND ENDURANCE

PREFACE

CHARACTERS

PART ONE

A MOTHER’S PAIN

THE ACCIDENT

MY ENGAGEMENT

MY HUSBAND

MY SHIP SAILS WITHOUT ME

LEAVING CYPRUS

THE RAPE

PAIN

MARRIED LIFE

A STRANGER

CHILDREN

RETURN

END OF MY MARRIAGE

LONELINESS

FAMILY CONFLICTS

YOU

HELENA

MY CHILDREN’S CAREERS

MY TRIP TO CYPRUS

CYPRUS

BACK HOME

MY MOTHER’S RETURN

LIFE WITH MOTHER

LEAVING RICHMOND

SETTLING IN MY HOME

THE QUIET HOUSE

MOTHER

PART TWO

REFLECTIONS AND EMOTIONS

A CHILD IS BORN

FATHER

THE YEARS I HAVE LEFT

AFTERWORD

PART THREE

‘SOMEONE CALLED ME TODAY’

INTRODUCTION

POST-WAR IMMIGRATION

AUSTRALIAN AND CYPRIOTS

THE HALF-WAY HOUSE

MEMORIES

ALONE IN THE RICHMOND HOUSE

THE SHOE REPAIR SHOP

MY EARLY YEARS

DOMINEERING GRANDMOTHER

BEYOND THE RICHMOND HOUSE

REUNION

FAMILY OUTINGS

HIGH SCHOOL YEARS

INTOXICATED

HAIRDRESSING APPRENTICESHIP

OVERSEAS

ADDENDUM

DEDICATION

My true story

When the Past Awakens

A Mothers Pain

I sincerely dedicate my very personal story to

my three loving and caring children.

They are my life.

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MARIA AVRAAM was born in Cyprus in 1923. Schooling in her village of Skarinou was limited, and being female was always against her. Maria is self-taught in the art of writing and poetry; her skills are from a place deep within her soul. Unlike many others of her generation, Maria wrote her memoirs down over many years, along with her poems, a rare skill indeed. We are fortunate Maria has left us with this unique story of her life ‘When the Past Awakens’.

Maria’s spare time in Cyprus was spent creating fine crochet lace and embroidery. She spent whatever time she could reading Greek novels, which was one of her great passions and an escape from her daily chores. The Cyprus she knew has long gone while her life was being lived in an entirely different way, in another land: Australia.

Maria enjoys living in Australia and spending time with her three children and four grandchildren.

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HELENA KIDD is a Greek Cypriot-Australian born to migrant parents; and first generation Australian. Helena is the proud mother of two adult children, both in their twenties. This is Helena’s first foray into publishing; as author of ‘The Richmond House’ and editor in the reworking of her mother Maria Avraam’s story ‘When the Past Awakens’.

Helena left school early to pursue a hairdressing career, at age sixteen, then on to study event management later in her life when her children were teenagers. Helena had to prove to herself that she could be academic. Helena, like her mother Maria, kept diaries of her early life and was able to draw from these memoirs the inspiration to produce her story ‘The Richmond House’. The craft of writing and storytelling has now become an integral pursuit of Helena’s.

Author quote: ‘Both stories needed to be told side by side to fully understand what growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, with a single mother and no father, was really like. This way a deeper insight to both authors is created for the reader.’

Helena Kidd is planning a second publication in the future.

FOREWORD

Helena Kidd

This is the story of our mother, Maria Avraam. Her story is one of angst, despair, betrayal and many dark moments. Raising three children under three years of age, alone, in the 1960’s was not what Maria thought she would be doing. Nor did she think that she would still be domineered by her mother Dimitra, when she herself became a mother.

Born the only female in a family of six children was her burden to bear whilst growing up in the small village of Skarinou on the island of Cyprus. Although her life in the small village wasn’t easy or fair, Maria’s childhood did consist of some fond memories, in particular, being free to roam around the island and playing with the other children. Her father, George, the village cobbler, was a quiet man who was well-respected by everyone. Unlike her mother, George showed his daughter love. Maria’s mother, Dimitra, despite her cold demeaner, did teach her only daughter how to cook, crochet and tend to the house as this was seen to be a daughter’s duty. Being female required her to tend to her five brothers’ needs: washing their clothes by hand after boiling the water over an open fire; sewing and repairing their clothes; cooking and serving their meals; and so much more.

Maria’s story is about a woman not giving up, even when the psychological and physical pain was excruciating. It’s about a woman migrating to a foreign land, Australia, with no money, no schooling, no career prospects and no English language skills. It’s a story about a woman who just had hope; hope for a better life and to be reunited with her husband Andreas after six years apart. Maria’s story is also about mental and physical abuse by her husband.

With the help of her three children Maria eventually bought a house in Brunswick and finally moved out of her brother Miles’ house in Richmond. This was not only the start of a new chapter in her life but also a time of reflections of the old. It is how this book came about.

Maria’s story, ‘When the Past Awakens’, is not new. It is one that has been told many times over in different countries by different people of varied backgrounds and over many generations. Maria is unstinting in nature and behaviour towards others. This is our mother’s story as she recollects her experiences.

COURAGE AND ENDURANCE

Constantinos Emmanuelle

Author of Tales of Cyprus

When I interviewed Maria Avraam in 2014 for my ‘Tales of Cyprus’ project, I was most impressed with her calm demeanour as she carefully told me about the struggles she had endured throughout her life. Like so many Cypriot women of her generation, Maria has demonstrated a resolve and resilience that have enabled her to overcome the obstacles placed in her path. She is testament to the incredible strength of character required to deal with a very traditional and patriarchal Cypriot society that at one time imposed a strict moral code on its women.

Maria’s story seeks to remind us that Cypriot women often had to sacrifice their own needs and wants to satisfy the men in their lives, from their brothers and fathers to eventually their husbands. It’s a remarkable feat to have survived a life of servitude, but Maria has also achieved something else that is quite rare by Cypriot standards: she had the fortitude to write down her life story.

Maria’s story not only serves as a testament to her survival – but it also helps preserve her living memories for future generations. I feel privileged to have met Maria Avraam, as I firmly believe that she is truly the last of her kind. They don’t make women like her anymore.

PREFACE

How did my mother, Maria Avraam’s, life story get to be this book? The journey was long, emotional on many levels, sad in parts and a privilege for me, her daughter, to be a part of giving voice to Maria’s story.

As I write this in 2019, Maria, is ninety-six years of age and still living in her own home in Brunswick. Her situation today is far removed from her early life. Her schooling was almost non-existent in a village of Cyprus and being a female didn’t help. She is very much self-taught in the arts of writing and of poetry. I think she is a remarkable woman.

Maria started keeping a diary when she was at the lowest point in her life. Although she did not know it at the time, she used writing as a form of therapy – to help her cope with her life. Poetry provided another form for her to express her pain and her grief.

Maria didn’t have anyone to confide in about her pain and the stigma of being a ‘single parent’. In the 1960’s being a single parent wasn’t as common as it is today. I remember never telling anyone at primary school that I didn’t have a father, I just pretended I did. My mother did the same, always wearing her wedding band and never mentioning to her co-workers that she didn’t have a husband.

I don’t know when it happened; what year it was when I came across my mother’s writings on an A4 note pad which had been stuck in a drawer for years and was starting to fall apart. Luckily, my mother had numbered the pages. Her diary was hand-written in Greek. I speak Greek but unfortunately, I cannot read Greek.

‘Midera’ (mother), I said, ‘this hand-writing, what is it?’

My mother replied, ‘It’s my life story – I wrote it years ago, but I can’t write anymore, I have no ‘orexi, no drive or words left, I don’t know if I can even read it again.’

Persisting I said, ‘Midera, can you read some of your story to me please?’

My mother proceeded to read the first chapter and I was transported to another time and into her pain which was raw and very real. This started me thinking that I needed to translate her story from Greek to English for our family. Her scratchy writing should not be left in a drawer any longer.

Again, I’m not sure how long it was after that day, but I managed to find a Greek lady through one of my mother’s friends to translate the Greek into English. The lady who did the translation was just given my mother’s A4 pages by my mother’s friend. We had not met her at this stage, only spoken to her on the telephone. When I think back, I didn’t even photocopy the original manuscript.

The translator called me after she had finished the work and said: ‘I must meet your mother, the woman who wrote this story, she is amazing.’

I replied ‘Yes of course, please come and join us for coffee’ which she did soon after.

During her visit, this lady we just met, sat holding Maria’s hands in hers and listened as my mother told her more about life in Cyprus and the hardships she had endured.

The next step was getting my mother’s story and some of her translated poetry bound in a book – one in Greek and one in English. Finally, the English version was ready for my siblings and me to read in our own time. It was a very raw translation which didn’t read very well but that didn’t matter. Growing up and as adults, we only had glimpses of our mother’s life through her spoken word, which was not too often. I read her story one night in bed, from start to finish, with tears through most of it. There was so much about my mother that I did not know – melancholy was just one of the emotions I felt afterwards.

Many years have passed since that early copy. Maria’s story has been reworked since then to what it is today, and in that process, I have tried to retain her voice. We all feel lucky to have our mother still here with us and to finally tell her story to a wider audience. And that is how my mother, Maria Avraam’s, life story became a self-published book.

This book is divided into three parts; the main being Maria’s story ‘When the Past Awakens’. It reflects Maria’s pain and her need for emotional escape during the most difficult times of her life.

The second section contains Maria’s reflections and emotions about her life. She presents a raw and honest expression of a woman’s pain and loneliness but also a woman’s strength, courage and love towards her three children.

Part three contains my memoirs; my recollections of life in the Richmond house in the 1960s and 1970s, and being raised by my single mother, Maria. I write about how life was then, from my perspective, in the suburb of Richmond.

CHARACTERS

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Maria with her original story in her Brunswick home

PART ONE

WHEN THE PAST AWAKENS

A MOTHER’S PAIN

Maria Avraam

A MOTHER’S PAIN

A valiant man battles with hell

He is burning with fever

But he remembers

The love he left alone in town

And his mother beside his bed

Protects him like the virgin Mary

She speaks words of love

To give him comfort

In the bed of pain

His body melts like wax

And death awaits

To take him from this life

His end is here

And has spread everywhere

He cares not that he will die

Because he will no longer hurt

The mother cries by the bed

She cannot be consoled

He is her only child

And she is alone

Like the Madonna in solitude

THE ACCIDENT

The day was a Friday in March 1975, at two minutes after midday, when the accident occurred. Bad luck comes easily, but it takes a long time for things to get better or to put luck back in its place. If bad luck can be corrected.

I was employed at a factory in the suburb of Blackburn, where I helped make: pies, pasties, sausage rolls, quiches, cakes and classic tarts.

I remember it was a day of immense heat, the air still and silent. In the hotter months my workload was less, I was bored that day and looking for extra menial tasked to busy myself. I was washing some bowls, when my manager approached me, a kind Australian man in his late fifties.

‘Maria you may finish work early today,’ he instructed me.

I nodded in agreement, that’s all I could do, and did as I was told. Knowing, I needed the extra hours of income to make ends meet, and didn’t really like to leave early, who was I to question authority. So, I finished up working before my days end. I had to catch the train home and then walk to my house, which took approximately fifteen minutes. On my way to catch the train, I slipped and found myself flat out, seated in the middle of the footpath. With my hands placed onto the hard concrete, I tried to lift myself up and stand, but my arms gave way. I thought I had broken some bones. When I was certain that I was fine, I slowly eased myself up from that uneven pavement; I was dazed, so I had no memory of onlookers or anyone helping me to stand up. Then I took off to the station.

When the train arrived at the station, I boarded; still feeling a little stunned. I felt some pain in my back. I was so distracted by that pain that I did not realise I had reached my destination, and when I heard the speakers announcing that the train was departing from Richmond, I jumped up and got off quickly. As I was walking, my head started to hurt, and I wanted to be sick. I was thinking of all the things that I had to do at home. Luckily, Monday was a public holiday, and I would be off work. I thought that I had not hurt myself too much, just that I was bruised. However, I was very wrong as I was later diagnosed with a dislodged disc at the tail of my spine.

I lay down for a few hours when I arrived home, something I never did. I knew I had lots of housework and cooking to do, and I told myself ‘I cannot rest.’ I did the necessities with a lot of difficulty and went to bed that night in great pain.

On Tuesday, I went to work and told the manager and the boss that I fell in the street and was in pain but that I could work. Again, I was not being honest with myself. I worked like a robot, lifting heavy items. It was hard work that day, and I was progressively getting worse.

I visited our family doctor the next day. He examined me carefully; he frowned and told me I needed X-rays to determine where the damage was done. I went and had the X-rays but forgot to ask what had happened at the X-ray clinic, as I could not think straight. The doctor rang me to come in and see him to discuss the results. The news was very bad.

‘Unfortunately, Maria, you have a bad injury to your back.’

I looked at him and replied, ‘Can I still work?’

‘It’s best you stop working and rest,’ was his answer.

I had to stop work and apply for worker’s compensation, as I was told that this would cover my doctor’s bills and anything else, I may require. However, this was not to be the case; the money did not cover very much at all. Stopping work was very hard because of the situation I was in. I had three children, without a father, to raise by myself. I went against the doctor’s orders, and with pain medication, I continued to work until July 1975.

I eventually had to stop working because the pain was unbearable. I remember my last pay was ninety-three dollars. That was all I had. I did not even have any savings.

The troubles now began.

I had no money. I was visiting doctors and physiotherapists and going to chiropractors secretly in the hope of getting better. After two months, I went to see a lawyer; my brother advised me to do this. The lawyer gave me some forms to complete, and I received a small allowance, around sixty-nine dollars a week.

I was also taken to numerous doctors and specialists to make sure I was not faking my injury.

After some years and a lot of pain and suffering, the lawyer decided to take the matter to court so that I might receive some compensation. I went to court with two lawyers, a male about thirty-five years old and an older female. They had brought along an interpreter. I was so confused. They spoke in English. She translated in Greek, what was happening. I still did not understand. The result was that I received six thousand dollars out of the twelve thousand dollars awarded to me. The lawyers, doctors, physiotherapists and all the other liars who took on my case received the other six thousand dollars.

That was on 6 August 1988, thirteen years after the accident.

When the lawsuit was over, I took a taxi home. I was emotionally drained and plainly not happy with six thousand dollars and my thoughts of no future. I was home at three o’clock in the afternoon. I went upstairs and lay down on the rug on the floor and let the tears flow; it had been years since I cried. When I finally stopped crying and was totally calm, the past awakened within me, and it all come back to my mind.

MY ENGAGEMENT

I was engaged in May 1951. I remember it was hot; we had plenty of fruit