THE MIRACLE A True Story silence fell on the angry rioters. Making his way over pieces of coal, stones and broken glass which cut into his flesh through his thin shoes and still clutching the Turkish flag, Apostolos Nikolaidis summoned up the courage to speak to the crowd.    "I am Apostolos Nikolaidis," he said, "and I was born in this country, just like all of you. My parents, like your parents, were also born here. So were my grandparents. I have Turkish citizenship, just like you. I served in the Turkish army, like you did. And not just once, not even twice, but three times!"    He paused for a moment, out of breath. Total silence reigned, as if an invisible hand had immobilised the crowd that had been raging so angrily a few minutes before. Speaking in faultless Turkish, he continued, his voice clear and resonant:    "I have nothing to do with Cyprus! I have no connection with what is going on there or anywhere else, for that matter. I live here, like you do. There is absolutely no reason for you to destroy our home. In any case, like you, I believe in God. And in both our faiths, wrong-doing is a great crime. So I would ask you to leave quietly without causing any further damage and remember that my family and I are part of this country, just like you!"    The deathly hush which fell after his speech lasted just a few seconds. Then a voice charged with hatred and fanaticism cut through the silence like a sharp knife:    "What's the Turkish flag doing in the hands of that giavour?"    Some of the rioters who were standing close to Apostolos Nikolaidis pounced on him as though they had been waiting for the slightest provocation. One of them, holding a club, came forward from behind and delivered a sharp blow on the back of his head. As Apostolos Nikolaidis collapsed, unconscious, in a heap, a frenzied cry pierced the air, sounding as if it had come from deep within the entrails of a wild beast that had been injured:    "Kemal abi! Babami öldürüyorsunuz!" (" Uncle Kemal! You're killing my father!")    The cry, which came from 15-year-old Miltos Nikolaidis, had the effect of a high-voltage electric shock directed into the crowd. Everyone stopped in their tracks. They all looked like naughty children caught in the act by their parents. Their leader looked around, embarrassed.    "Let's get out of here!" he ordered, gesturing to the crowd.    After a slight hesitation, the mob began to move away. But it had not gone very far before it started to shout slogans again, rekindling its wrath to be vented on the next Greek target.    Efterpi Nikolaidis and the two children ran to the help of the injured man and dragged him inside the coal-filled house. They secured the doors and windows again as best they could and gathered round the wounded man. His head and feet, lacerated by the broken glass, were bleeding profusely.    The minutes ticked past agonisingly slowly. The danger of another attack was immense. Efterpi Nikolaidis attended to her husband like a real nurse. When at length he began to recover, he asked them to collect a few essential items of clothing and be ready to leave for Tarlabas ļi at first light. They would be much safer in the centre of the city, where there were many houses and lots of people. They had several friends and relatives who would be glad to take them in.    The Nikolaidis family spent the rest of that long night of Saint Bartholomew in a state of restless agitation, listening and watching anxiously for any sign of danger. 57 and 58 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 (59th of 204) © For Internet 2001 HEC and Leonidas Koumakis. Updated on 19 June 2001.