Greek Girl's Secrets. Efrossini AKA Fran Kisser
from the earthquake it was customary to go to the cellar which was constructed with huge stones. This time it was not good protection. The huge supporting beam fell and killed the father and in his loving arms the youngest of the children. My mother described the horrible day to me. It was like a night mare she said when even the pillars from the basement were falling, and many beams broke that killed both her father and her youngest sister, the baby.
And, as if that was not enough, the two countries Greece and Turkey had an exchange of refugees. The Greek people who still lived in Constantinople and other parts of Turkey went back to Greece and the Turks from Greece were sent back to Turkey. There was no transportation, people found themselves homeless, in the streets. They could only take what they could carry, and my poor grandmother now had no husband and seven children to mother and take care of. It is mind boggling to even begin to comprehend the situation.
After many days of suffering they ended up in Serres. There, Greece gave them a piece of land, a little building lot and it was up to them to get a house built. Luckily with my grandmother’s jewelry a couple of rooms were built. So, when my mother met my father, he was really a God send, to this tormented family. He needed to be loved and they needed him desperately in so many ways.
Achillea was very talented. He had the mind of a builder. He was self-educated, and he knew about measurements and even algebra he had taught himself. He was not afraid to use his hands and his mind. He was on the streets for eleven years.
So, all together my grandmother and her kids, by now they were old enough to help build a decent house with many more rooms. These people were not on a farm, so I have no idea what they did for a living when they found themselves in Greece. Somehow, they survived.
Right now, if you ever had a terrible accident or some catastrophe, say a prayer and count your blessings.
My mother was fifteen and my father was seventeen when they got married. Achillea and Malama had a total of 11 children born to them. The very first one was Carollina, named after my father’s mother in Austria. She only lived a few months and then the baby died.
Then, they had Niko. Two years later Soultana and we called her Soula. Two years later Carolos was born. Two years later Zafiro was born, and we called her Roula. Then they had Demetrios and we called him Taki.
Those were the older children. Then the pattern changed. My parents had children every four years. Stelios was born along with a dead twin boy. Four years later, Panayiotis was born. Four years later I was born and last my sister Anna was born again four years later.
Now the year of 2019, only Panayiotis, myself, and Anna are still alive. Panayiotis lives in Australia for about 50 years. Anna lives in Greece and I live here in the US.
1915 Austrian Mother Karollina
CHAPTER 5
MALAMA - EFROSSINI’S MOTHER
In Greek the word malama means gold. It is also a female name, Goldie. Malamatenia, Malamati, Tenia, Toula, Malamatoula are all versions of MALAMA. This was my mother’s name, Malama. Now that I think about it, I understand this name fits this awesome lady, perfectly!
Recently, I read a book on the only incorruptible money on earth which is GOLD. While digesting the information I thought about my wonderful mother. She had a heart of gold, she had golden hands, she wore golden handmade little heart earrings with rubies, she obeyed the golden rule, she collected English 22 karat gold sovereigns (lira), she saved two lives of innocent little children, she guarded her children during the war all by herself with her very life. She deserved and truly earned the name Malama.
I was over 53 years old in 2001 when I went back to Greece the third time and that is when I learned of the ultra-sacrifices my mother had made during that terrible war, before I was born.
She was born November 1908 in Constantinople. That city today is called Istanbul. This used to be Greek until the Turks stole it from Greece. Constantinople which means the city of Constantine was after all, the capital of the Greek Byzantine Empire that lasted for over 1,100 years. It was called Byzantium then.
King Constantine was a Roman ruler who later became Christian along with his mother Helen. They are both saints now in the Christian religion.
I remember it like a fairy tale. My mother was a great story teller. She told me her personal real stories to connect me with my past. I don’t know about my siblings if they wanted to know the family’s history. All I know, I loved hearing about our past.
There was a great earthquake in Constantinople when she was around 6 years old. The whole family of eight children and the two parents rushed to their sanctuary to brace themselves against the warned earthquake. Their sanctuary was their cellar. Those days their homes were built on huge stone foundations. The cellar was the place to go for safety. It was truly their sanctuary.
Unfortunately, this time that cellar became a death trap, once a huge column fell and crushed the father and in his loving arms, the youngest one of the family, their toddler. She was Agapoula. It translates to Little Love.
So, my yiayia (grandma) became a young widow and now she had seven children to mother by herself in uncertain times. And if that loss was not enough a few months later they were notified to leave Turkey and go to Greece as refugees. It was an exchange between Greece and Turkey. The Turks left Greece and went back to Turkey, and the Greeks left from Turkey and went to Greece.
My mother was almost school age by then. They began on their torturous, dusty journey to the north part of Greece, Makedonia.
When this great exchange took place, her family took what they could carry on the long, exhausting, dusty, journey to Greece. The family Roussou ended up at Serres. This city is in the north part of Greece.
I try to imagine their hardships. This was a time over one hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no electricity. They must have either walked or rode a horse drawn wagon.
For sure, the fatherless family had suffered. This was not a poor family by then definition of poor. They had a beautiful stone house in Constantinople and the father was a merchant, a captain of olive oil, olives and such staples. I do not know what kind of resources they had after his accidental death and the refugee exchange. I understand Turkey kept all their possessions. My grandmother with now seven children ends up in a foreign place. Yes, they spoke Turkish and Greek which was very helpful.
In Serres the government sponsored a building lot to the new refugees. They built a couple of rooms, with the gold jewelry my yiayia was wearing. She gave up her golden earrings, her rings and her necklaces. These were all mementos from her departed husband.
My grandmother learned how to raise her own vegetables, in their little back yard. Serres was land locked, so they could not go fishing. Greeks are seafood eaters but there was no money to buy it with. Somehow, they survived bitter cold winters. Children walked for hours picking up usable sticks to light a fire with, for cooking and for heating.
These people were city people, not farmers. This primitive life was a new painful experience for them. They found out how resilient they were.
If they were all together, life was bearable yiayia would tell her kids while hugging them and kissing them to ease their suffering. The children were loved. That is one thing that poor family had, it was genuine love.
CHAPTER 6
INEVITABLE FAMILY CHANGES
As the teenagers were getting older and their housing got smaller and smaller they started to look for work. There was no work to be found anywhere. The oldest daughter Paraskevi (Friday) got married and so did my uncle George. They moved out. But the second male child Manolis (Immanuel), the third female child Efrossini, and the fourth female child Fotini left for America, to seek their fortunes, right before the American great depression in the early 1920’s.
They came to America