THE MIRACLE A True Story we should take with us: clothing, bed linen, a blanket or two.    There were of course, many things we could not take because they had been recorded for confiscation. There were also things which the authorities would not allow us to take with us; these were carefully packed up and given to the Church. There would no doubt be some Christian who needed them.    My mother gathered together all the absolutely essential things that she wanted to take and packed them into a large trunk. Bit by bit the trunk filled up.    "Let's see how much of this those monsters will let us take!" she said.    And indeed, the Young Turks, having confiscated both the fixed and movable assets of their victims, carried out one last attempt to plunder what few items had been left behind by the Greeks who were being deported. It was well known to those leaving that the final act of plunder was carried out at the Customs: it was an act that I was to experience for myself at first hand.    Towards the end of August we received a last letter from my father.    "I am almost ready for you to join me. I finally decided to rent the little apartment I told you about in my previous letter. Life here in Athens is hard. It is difficult to earn a living, but God is great. Those who are not afraid of hard work will never go wrong. I work as a labourer in the construction industry, putting in electrical installations. Of course you'll tell me what a come-down this is! But didn't we say - work is nothing to be ashamed of? I have also met the family of Sideris and Evangelia. They have three children, the oldest of whom, Evgenia, is about the same age as our Angeliki. So she will have company and shouldn't cry (as I am told she does). Be ready to go as soon as I have booked your tickets at the travel agency here in Athens; they will let you know when to leave. Take care, all of you - and see you soon!"    We were in a constant state of turmoil and apprehension waiting for the day of our departure.    Every two or three days from the middle of August on, the caretaker of the next-door apartment block would knock at our door and ask when we were leaving. He told us he had "bought" the house and wanted to move in immediately. The man had always been very courteous and smiled at us - until the day he learned my father had been deported. From then on he watched us with the eye of a hawk, impatient to devour its prey.    We did not dare ask when and how he had bought the house. My mother kept repeating to him that we were expecting to hear word of our departure at any time now. He would go away, only to return the next day or the one after. We lived in fear that something bad might happen in those last few days.    In the afternoon of the day that we received my father's last letter, Mr Kleopas, the invalid teacher who lived upstairs, asked to speak to my sister and me. We could not refuse. His wrinkled face and forbidding presence had always instilled a kind of fear in us, but his outward appearance concealed a tender heart.    My sister, who was in the depths of despair at the uncertain future we faced, could barely summon up the courage to move, so I went upstairs alone. Mr Kleopas' sister, Miss Alexandra, who had devoted her life to looking after her invalid brother, greeted me sadly.    "What shall we do now, without your cheery voices to listen to?" she asked, leading me into the room where her brother was sitting in his wheelchair by a kind of bay window that jutted out, affording an excellent view of 73 and 74 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 (75th of 204) © For Internet 2001 HEC and Leonidas Koumakis. Updated on 19 June 2001.