Exit Lines

By Justice

One thing I detest in this life is injustice, and certainly I see much unfairness in my life. My second name is Justice! As far as I am concerned, the greatest injustice of all is the forced uprooting from my own home and the ensuing Turkish occupation of Cyprus. We need to break down the wall of hatred and unite that little island so that its people can live together in peace. Make my wish come true! Break down the dividing line of hatred in Cyprus!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493115266

Justice

A child growing up in the city of Chicago finds Himself in the most peculiar situations. Author Uriah, aka Cool Man “U” lived the majority of His childhood on the trying streets in the Austin area of the Chicago’s west side. As a middle child with three older brothers and one younger brother raised by a hard working single Mother, life was quite interesting to say the least. Despite many, many setbacks including being kick out of high school, Uriah manage to recuperate with a vengeance by getting back into that very high school almost two years later and graduating early with honors. Finding that life was still very challenging in spite of a high school diploma and various technical and vocational college certifications, He decided to pursue one of the many passions that burned within Him in the imaginative written form of His childhood experiences.

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by (Maria Fenner) Justice.

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.

Rev. date: 10/16/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

[e-mail]

504394

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Family Matters

Chapter 2 The Early Years

Chapter 3 Starting School

Chapter 4 Teenage Years

Chapter 5 High School Years

Chapter 6 Senior School Years

Chapter 7 Into The Big Wide World

Chapter 8 Changing Times

Chapter 9 Unplanned Events

Chapter 10 Turning Upside Down

Chapter 11 Shattered Dreams

Chapter 12 Unwelcomed Reality

Chapter 13 New Horizons

Chapter 14 No Turning Back

Chapter 15 New Role

Chapter 16 Widowed Mother

Chapter 17 Migrating to Australia

Chapter 18 Life in Australia

About the Book

About the Author

Chapter 1

Family Matters

Image%200004.tif

Aerial view of Karmi village.

It was a cold January day. By 2:30 p.m., the shadow of Pentadaktylos (five peaks) mountain range was cast on my charming little Greek village of Karmi. Nestled in the foothills of Mount Pentadaktylos, you could see my little village, Karmi, with its whitewashed little houses dotted amphitheatrically around the slopes, looking like sheep grazing in the distance.

The winter sun was playing hide-and-seek with the pale grey and white clouds. Eleni was gathering twigs and logs to light the fire for the family to warm up and at the same time cook the evening meal. Dinner on that day was not ready by sunset, as usual. Chick peas with celery and silver beet, sautéed in tomato paste, were cooking in the pot to feed five children and two parents. It was a hard life, no choice to eat anything else. Most of the daily nutrition consisted of pulses and vegetables that the majority of the villagers used to grow in their gardens. All the children had to sit round the square wooden table, covered in plastic ‘tablecloth’, to start eating out of one big bowl positioned in the centre of the table. Soon after dinner, Eleni, 42, felt unwell and a little dizzy. She didn’t pay much attention to it since she had always worked hard and was permanently exhausted by the end of a hard day’s work.

A few days later, olive picking was in full swing. It may be winter, yet the days are usually blissfully warm, perfect for the olive harvesting. At this time of year, Cyprus becomes a nation of olive pickers as the precious olives are harvested to produce the all-important olive oil.

Parents and children were walking in line long distances in the dirt roads and pathways, with two donkeys and goats in tow. Father Athanasis was sometimes sitting on the donkey, taking it in turns with wife Eleni. Children had to go on foot and, if any one of them complained of sore feet or anything else, perhaps would get a sit on the donkey saddle for a while. Eleni’s youngest sister, Eugene, was sometimes working in the adjacent fields of olive groves, which were nestled between the mountain and the deep blue Mediterranean Sea. She was also a short, thin-built woman with sky blue eyes like Eleni’s. Eugene had already eight children—six boys and two girls, including one set of twins. However, she was again pregnant with number nine!

The two sisters came together at lunch break to share their food consisting mainly of bread, olives, and tomatoes. Eleni, by this time, was feeling a little dizzy and nauseous.

‘Perhaps you should see a doctor’, Eugene encouraged, ‘in case you are pregnant!’

‘Shut up, sis,’ said Eleni. ‘I am over 40; I don’t want any more kids!’

The next day, Eleni, out of curiosity, visited Anna, the village midwife. She could not believe her ears when she heard the extraordinary news. Indeed, her sickness was pregnancy! Eleni was shocked to hear this news. It was neither planned nor expected. A new baby brother or sister for the three brothers—George, Michael, and Kosta—and the two sisters, Eve and Despina. More than eight years since her last baby was born, poor Eleni had to start all over again, just when she thought her production line ceased!

Working around the house, trying to keep all the children clothed, fed, and happy was a Herculean task for Eleni. In contrast, Maroula, her younger neighbour, was also expecting her first in line baby, just a couple of months after Eleni. Now Eleni, sister Eugene, and neighbour Maroula were all expecting!

Eleni’s family home was an L-shaped structure, with whitewashed internal and external walls. It consisted of three longish rooms—kitchen, middle bedroom, and parents’ bedroom/lounge room. One side of the house was facing the mountain, whilst the other side in the far distance was overlooking the deep blue Mediterranean Sea stretching in the distance below. There was plenty of land around the house for children and animals to work and play. Tree-lined boundaries were acting as fences around the house and land. Olive, almond, and carob trees were lining the edges of the house, offering their fruit and nuts to the family. Chickens were roaming free around the house all day long, rewarding everybody with their beautiful and nutritious free-range eggs. Two goats kept their supply of milk, and the two donkeys were transporting the father to and from work each day.

Nine months after the initial shock, Eleni—an expert in producing babies by now—was in labour pains. The two girls, Eve and Despina, hearing their mother painfully calling them, ran to fetch Anna, the only midwife and saviour of the village’s production! It was Sunday morning, the tenth of October, and the village clear church bell was ringing, calling the faithful to come to God’s home. During this time, a new baby girl made her entrance into this world! The family brood consisted now of equal numbers of three boys and three girls. Being God-fearing and faithful, the new baby girl was named Maria, after Panagia, Jesus’s mother. Maria was also her godmother’s name. Maria and Eleni were the most common and popular names in those days. Every family in the village had either a Maria or an Eleni or both. My own family had both.

The oldest boy, George, loved his tiny new sister. A few days after baby Maria was born, George sneaked clandestinely near the baby cradle and placed a lolly under the baby’s head! When his mum found it later on, she asked 13-year-old George if it was him who put it there and why.

George replied, ‘I love my new baby sister and this is my gift to her. It is also my wish to her for a sweet life!’

Chapter 2

The Early Years

With the addition of baby Maria, the family was now equally distributed between males and females. Eleni and Athanasis were the proud parents of three boys and three girls. Maria, being the baby of the family, was doted on by the seven family members. It was definitely an innovation, a life-changing event. With the love and adoration came the responsibility from the older ones, especially the older girls—Eve and Despina—who had to help their mum with all jobs around the house as well as with work outside the house and in the fields. There was no party or bell ringing for the new arrival. Life in the village was tough, but enjoyable. You could not find any modern amenities in a small sleepy village such as Karmi, nestled at the foot of the mountain. A mother would wrap her newborn baby round and round her little body, hands and feet tucked inside a large capote white cloth. Only their little head would be visible to the outside world. It was customary in those days for all new mothers to avoid going out visiting friends or relatives for forty days. All relatives and close friends were visiting the lehona and her brand-new baby. A basket full of goodies was the customary gift to the new mother and baby. To sweeten the mother up, you could always find some sort of sweet delights such as dhaktyla (fingers) rolled in ground almonds and dipped in syrup, or pishidhes (fritters) sprinkled with sugar or honey. Another custom also was for the new-born baby to be taken to church by a young virgin, between the first and before the sixth week of birth, so that the new baby will be blessed by the local priest and welcomed into the Church of God. Eleni, with her big family of eight, had no time to scratch herself or visit anybody. Home duties and work outdoors in the fields were the order of her day. The chickens and goats had to be fed and cleaned. As soon as the children were old enough, they had no choice but to help their parents in the fields and around the house. Many times the older girls had to look after the little one whilst their mother was tending to the garden, busy cooking, fetching water from the spring, washing, picking olives and carobs, and doing a thousand other jobs. Working from dawn to dusk was very common for everyone in the village. Eve, being the oldest girl, was over 17 at this stage. She never completed primary school nor did she go to high school. Since she was not at all academic, her mother decided to send her to Michael Morfakis, a reputable dress designer in Kyrenia town, so that she can learn sewing and dressmaking. Michael was her mother’s nephew, a well-known and respected name in the fashion industry in this town. Eve, a slow learner, spent three years learning the fashion trade! In this way, she escaped somewhat the house chores of looking after her siblings or helping the parents in the fields. The onus was now falling on the middle girl, Despina, who had to do everything—help her older sister as well as her parents and her other siblings.

One day when Despina was about 11, her mother left her in charge of toddler Maria while she went to fetch water from the running spring. Maria was playing happily in the backyard, splashing in a bucket of water. Suddenly, as soon as Despina took her eyes off her little sister, alarm bells started ringing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Maria upside down with her head inside the huge half-full tin bucket of water and her feet sticking up in the air. Despina was horrified and alarmed. Overcome by panic, she started crying. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she called the neighbour: ‘Ah, Maroula, come over, quick! Maria is drowning… my mother is going to kill me…’ Maroula tried to calm her down by telling her to lift her out of the bucket, hold her upside down, and pat her on the back. While Des was doing as she was told, Maroula came down to help with reviving the toddler. Luckily, Maria was still breathing and Des gave a sigh of relief. She asked Maroula not to mention anything to her mum, as she was terrified of the consequences.

Time was passing and baby Maria was now over 3 years old. In the meantime, neighbour Maroula had a girl named Elly, who was just two months younger than Maria. The two little girls were playing together sometimes. As Maria was growing up, she was happily playing with other children of the neighbourhood. They were playing games of marbles, hopscotch, and many others. The girls of the neighbourhood were gathering under our old olive tree during hot summer days playing on our tree swing that Dad made. Two pieces of thick rope were hanging from two thick branches and a piece of flat piece of hardwood in the middle for children to sit and swing. Life seemed to pass at a slow pace whilst both parents and all children were trained in the art of helping in every facet of daily life. They were learning to help their parents in everything they did, and at the same time, all siblings help one another. Here are some of the jobs for children over the age of 5 that were expected to do: Domestic animals, such as goats and chickens, had to be fed and cleaned on a daily basis. There was no water in the house or taps to turn on and get a wash. Water was a very precious commodity and had to be fetched from the spring, nearly a mile away near the centre of the village. Dad had to look after his very important four-legged friend and helper—his faithful donkey! Together they worked from morning till sunset.

Chapter 3

Starting School

Memories of myself, Maria, started with my first year at school.

I do not remember my eldest sister, Eve, being part of my family. By the time I was 5 years old, she had married and left home. Luckily, she did not go far, but if you asked our mother, it would have been a blessing if she did! Only a neighbour’s house across the road was bordering the line between mother and daughter! Soon after her wedding, she had a baby boy, but I cannot remember exactly when he was born. All I remember is that I became an auntie at 5 years old!

Eve’s actual wedding day is a foggy picture too. All I remember of this significant event is that I was her flower girl, dressed in a summery white long silky dress with a lacy bodice. My hair was done up in a top roll. At least this is what I could see in the only photo of myself—in black and white—as it was hanging on Eve’s lounge wall some months later. Another memory that stayed with me all the ensuing years of life is how I kept stepping on to my long dress while I was trying to hold the giant thick white wedding candle that flower girls traditionally had to carry whilst walking behind the bridal party on the way to church. I had to share my task between myself and Rena—the groom’s cousin—who, being a year older, was naturally a bit stronger and more able to succeed in this wedding duty!

Eve loved making little dresses for me and showing them off to the family. When the time came for me to start school for the first time in my life, it was Eve who had sewn my first school uniform—a chequered blue-and-white dress. On that first school day, the first Monday after the eighth of September (Panagia’s birthday), I walked to school with my little neighbour Elly. Church and school were traditionally next to each other, and in my village, this was no exception. Next door to the village church, we found our school, in two small buildings. The schoolyard was almost an extension of the churchyard. One of the two buildings was situated on one side of the yard, while the other one lay on the other side. There was a small garden at the side of each building. The church stood almost in the middle of both school buildings looking like a United Nations ‘peacemaker’. The first day of school was customarily blessed—in a brief ceremony—by the local priest so that the year ahead can proceed smoothly and prosperously. The first three years of primary schooling would be spent on the junior building where three steps were leading towards it from the yard. The latter three years would be completed on the senior school on the opposite side.

I took to schooling like a duck to water. I was happy learning and playing. I made a few friends too.

One teacher was teaching us every subject we had in the programme. Mrs Theano was a very strict spinster who was passionate about achieving goals through hard work and perseverance. In our little heads, a word with a capital R for ‘Respect’ was instilled at regular intervals. Respect for our teachers, parents, and elders were not allowed to be forgotten. She would not hesitate in giving a student who misbehaved in class a good hiding! At the start of each week, Monday morning, all children had to go through the ritual of standing in line like soldiers on parade, ready for inspection by the principal. He would check each one of us to see if our fingernails were cut and our shoes cleaned and polished.

As usual, time was flying by. Before long, my first year at school was coming to an end. June was the month of the school final year. Summertime would last for at least three months until September where the new school year would start again. On my last day of school in June, we all stood in line for collection of our school reports. My first school report had A (for Arista), meaning ‘perfect score of 10/10’. I passed my first education hurdle with flying colours! As soon as I took it in my hand, I ran excitedly home to show my mother. Waving my precious report in front of her face, I jumped with joy calling, ‘Mum, look at this, I have A in my report!’

‘Bravo, my girl, you are a smartie!’ she would say.

Summer and school holidays meant that my young life was focused on family and indoor and outdoor activities. As a child who was doted on by my large family, leading a carefree life was not always easy. If I showed no interest or obedience to my mother’s or sisters’ demands, I would be in trouble. In such situations, being the youngest in the family was not always a blessing. I was ordered about to do things and run errands for everyone! My eldest sister, Eve, who was already married, was the biggest consumer of my time than anybody else. By the time I was around 5 or 6 years old, Eve had her first baby, thus making me an auntie to her first son. His name was Thasos, short for ‘Athanasis’, named after my father and his granddad. He was a cute little boy, mentally developing into a bright child. Unfortunately, as time was going by, we could not see an equally fine physical development for him. Eve was worried sick about him, but despite taking him to every doctor in the land and even resorting to visiting some well-known individuals gifted with some superficial power, there was no cure for him. By the time he was 3 years old, he lost his battle for life. Despite my young age, willingly or otherwise, I was by her side in every step of the way.

By the time Thasos was 2 years old, another boy, Kostakis, came on the scene. With two little boys under 2, Eve’s hands were full and she certainly needed all the help she could get. As her little sister, I was becoming more and more her saviour! I could hear my name called daily from a stone’s throw away. It was hardly any pleasant surprise, but an order for chores to be done. It could be anything from running to the village corner shop to buy her something or fetching water, or cleaning, or looking after babies. Sometimes, my mother resented my doing so many chores for Eve, as this meant that I had no time to do things for Mum. My time was spent mostly at Eve’s place rather than Mum’s. Despina, the middle daughter, was equally resentful of my helping Eve every day, as this again meant that I could not help her around our house!

In fact, I was forced to help in every facet of Eve’s life that, in my young life, I was feeling already tired.

I remember an incident when I was about 8: I had to bathe the boys one by one. When this was done, I was ordered to fry some pieces of chicken that Eve wanted to cook for her family. As I was turning the meat in the frying pan to be cooked on the other side, the frying pan with the hot oil accidentally fell on my foot. Ouch! I screeched with pain. I fried a large part, about seven centimetres, of my right foot, near the toes. Obviously, I was not holding the handle of the frying pan, so the whole pan tumbled down. Eve put some cold water on my foot, but the burning pain was unbearable. It felt like needles stuck into my foot. In the afternoon, when brother Costas came home on his motorbike, Mum ordered him to go to Kyrenia town to a chemist to buy something for burning. I remember a tube of yellow ointment that I had to put every day to relieve my pain. I could not walk with my right foot for a month. I was hopping on one foot to school each day.

What I remember most from that terrible experience is that burning is the worst pain anybody can have.

Soon, three months of summer school holidays, from June to September, came to an end. Being so busy with family chores during my school holidays, time could not go any faster. Traditionally, after Virgin Mary’s birthday on September 8, it was time for the commencement of the new school year.

Life was passing by in a busy, but rather joyous fashion. Satisfaction did not need to appear from a gigantic source. Little things would make a big impact on our life. In fact, it would lift our spirits in such heights that quite often the whole village community would be delighted to participate.

For example, I was extremely excited when every Christmas or Easter my godparents, Maria and Kyriakos, would come from Limassol (a big seaside town in the south side of the island) to visit us. They would give me twenty cents as a gift to buy something! At other times, I would be given a piece of fabric so that somebody can make a little dress for me. I could not contain my joy when Mum was given a piece of yellow flowery fabric for me to make me a dress. Eve, as a seamstress, was very happy to make little frilly dresses with smoky tops for me to wear at Easter. She loved to have a little girl of her own so that she could make beautiful dresses for her and dress her up like a doll every day. In fact, she loved dolls so much that in every panygiri (religious festival) we went to, she had to buy one. You could find a beautiful doll sitting on her bed, or perhaps on her settee, or just hanging on the wall. As a child, I never had a doll or a toy to play with. I remember once when I tied two tiny bottles I emptied from the chemist’s tablets on a string and I was pretending they were my little goats taking them for grazing into the surrounding fields! Another instance that comes to mind is when my mum made me a rag doll from cut-up strips of old fabrics she had around the house. Then she had sewn a dress for it and little shoes from a black leftover material. I was very excited with my new toy!

As an auntie from around the age of 5, I was more connected with my young nephews than my own brothers and sisters, due to the closeness of my age to theirs! Whenever I had to babysit for them, they were treating me like a big sister and I felt like one too. As we were all growing up, we were becoming closer. Every time the cheeky boys were annoying me, teasing or disobeying me, I would just chase them down the street in an attempt to bash them! At times, when they were annoying or disobeying me, I would catch and slap them. Occasionally, they would threaten me by throwing little stones at me! In revenge, I would refuse to do errands for their mother until they apologised to me!

Time was passing by in a rather carefree fashion, and my school report at the end of each primary school year was the same—A (for Arista, top report). By the time I was near the end of my primary school final year, Eve had two more boys and one girl. What a wonderful feeling to finally produce a girl after three boys! Andrea was an adorable baby girl with a pair of deep blue eyes and a beautiful smile. She was a happy baby, growing into a lovely little girl. When Andrea was 10 months old, the unthinkable happened. I cannot remember the exact time of this terrible incident, but on a warm summer day, late afternoon, Eve went to fetch some water from the neighbourhood, leaving the baby sleeping in her bed. She asked her 8-year-old eldest son, Kostaki, to keep an eye on her. While Mum was away, the baby had fallen from her bed onto the concrete floor. Kostaki put her back to bed where she continued her sleep. He did not tell his mum about the incident. The following day, all that was obvious from the baby’s fall was a bruise near her temple. On the third day since her accidental fall from bed, baby Andrea was playing happily on the floor while Eve was busy with her dressmaking. I was there too on that day as well as my mother and Despina, playing with the baby and enjoying her beautiful cheeky smile.

In late afternoon, we heard loud screams coming from Eve’s house. ‘My baby… my baby is not waking up, my baby is dead…’ The whole neighbourhood ran towards her house where Eve was yelling hysterically. When we got there, she was beside herself. She was rubbing the baby to wake up, but she seemed motionless. It was very scary and depressing. Where can you go in a remote village? There were no doctors or cars or telephones nearby in those days. When my father heard of the tragic news, he was shocked. I never saw him showing any emotion or feelings for anybody, but this time, for the first time in my life, I saw tears streaking his face. He loved that little girl, who now was taken away from us so abruptly on the very day she seemed to be doing so well and playing so happily. It was incomprehensible. Three days after she fell off her bed, she was dead. None of us in the family could believe this terrible event that had just taken place. The following day, police arrived to question every family member. It was revealed to us that nobody imagined that an accidental baby fall would turn out so sinister. Apparently she died from internal injury to the brain on the third day of her accident. After all the police enquiries were completed, I remember a little white coffin brought in to Eve’s house. Baby Andrea looked like a sleeping doll in that tiny coffin. For the second time, I had to make the dreadful journey to the cemetery for yet another loss for sister Eve. She now had to mourn for her precious one and only baby daughter as well as beautiful little first son. I felt her pain.

As usual, Eve busied herself with the rest of her brood and her sewing. She even had some girls—trainees—who were coming to her house every day in order to learn her trade. Every summer school holidays, I was quite happy to help Eve with dressmaking so that I could learn how patterns were designed and then how to make a dress or anything else we could wear. If my mother and the rest of the family needed a new clothing item to wear, we simply had to provide the fabric and the rest would be done by Eve and her team of trainees, including myself!

Living in a village and a farming community where everything had to be done by hand, there was never any time where I could say I was ‘bored’! Boredom was never a word that existed in our vocabulary! In fact, we were experiencing quite the reverse. Too many jobs to be done and not enough time to do them.

On the political scene in Cyprus, I remember a kind of guerrilla war going on from 1955. I was about 6 years old when it started, and my memory of this terrible time is like a game of hide-and-seek! A voice over the loudspeaker was calling everyone in the village: ‘Προσοχή, προσοχή, κατ’οίκον περιορισμός. Όλοι στα σπίτια σας.’ ‘Everybody go home, the curfew would start again before darkness. If anybody comes out, he will be shot.’ As a young girl, I could not understand what was this all about. Sometimes I would just get out of the house to play in my back or front yard. I would even walk to Eve’s house across the dirt road just to see and get a better idea what was happening, since her house was close to the main road. When the British soldiers would see me breaking the curfew restrictions, they would just throw me a few lollies and I would then happily run back home to tell Mum!

I still have the mental picture of British soldiers coming to our homes, searching and talking in a language I could not comprehend! This lack of freedom