THE MIRACLE A True Story out of here! We've been living in this country for six generations and you can't touch us!"    They were the last words he ever spoke. The rabble fell on him; within a few minutes his shop was completely demolished and the old man was the first victim of that dreadful night. His wife managed to save herself by huddling in a corner but she died of shock shortly afterwards.    The mob proceeded in similar fashion to destroy all the Greek stores located on Pera Street: the famous cake-shops known as "Kervan", "Baylan" and "Sehir", and the splendid shoe and dress shops. Here the demonstrators pulled out clothes and footwear, selecting silk shirts, suits and new shoes for themselves and putting them on then and there before continuing with their mission of destruction.    At Frangoulis' magnificent jewellery shop the mob charged in, fighting with each other to see who could grab the most valuable pieces. It took them only a few minutes to pocket the expensive gold jewellery.    When the crowd reached the Church of the Holy Trinity, it hesitated for a moment. But this quickly passed when the cry went up "Curse the infidels!" and the mob invaded the church. Anything in the building that could be moved was destroyed or desecrated: icons, holy chalices, priests' robes - everything. The pews and the bishop's throne were overturned by another group of demonstrators who burst into the church with a can of kerosene to set fire to it. We shall never know why, in the end, the Turks were unable to burn the church.    In just a few hours, Pera Street had taken on a totally different appearance. The road surface had acquired a curious extra layer composed of a mixture of the items that had been destroyed: bits of machinery, furs, watches, shoes, oil, cheese, dress materials, smashed crockery, various foodstuffs and items of clothing - all mixed up and gradually trampled down by the rabble passing over it till it resembled a greasy sea of mud.    At around seven o'clock that evening my father was in his shop when he heard the shouting of the group of demonstrators far in the distance. With his heart pounding, he remembered the words that Ahmet Buldur, a Turkish neighbour who was very fond of him, had said to him only the previous day:    "Gerasimos, don't go out tomorrow evening - stay at home with your family."    "Why, Ahmet Bey?" my father had asked.    "Don't ask questions -just stay at home. Information has reached me which may not mean much, but may be very serious."    For a moment my father was puzzled. He connected Ahmet Buldur's words with a number of other "curious" signs: for example, the shutters and walls of the houses and shops belonging to Christians had suddenly been daubed with strange, distinctive markings or Turkish letters. Many stores belonging to Turks had displayed the Turkish flag as if to convey a message of some kind, which remained a mystery to my father. Groups of Lazes and various other people belonging to tribes which came from the far east of Turkey had appeared in the centre of Constantinople in the last few days, dressed in rags and starving.    How was my father to know that a few hours later these people would be posing as "outraged citizens" and embarking on a spree of looting, desecration, rape and destruction?    Despite giving the matter serious thought, in the end my father failed to interpret the words of Ahmet Buldur 43 and 44 Leonidas Koumakis THE MIRACLE A True Story If you prefer a hard copy of the book, please send an email to HEC-Books@hec.greece.org Previous Page | Initial Page | Site Map | Next Page (45th of 204) © For Internet 2001 HEC and Leonidas Koumakis. Updated on 19 June 2001.