THE MIRACLE A True Story concern. This, too, he ripped apart, tearing the feathers from inside until all that was left was a piece of rag. He continued to do the same with the third and fourth pillows. When he had finished, the whole place was covered in feathers; it is a scene I shall never forget.    The customs officer appeared irritated; he had been hoping to find something valuable hidden in the pillows which he could confiscate. He picked up a pair of my trousers and held them up in the air while he searched the pockets. Glancing at me, he said: "These trousers are too big for this child. They're staying here." And he put them on the side of the bench where all the things we were not permitted to take with us were to be collected.    My mother could no longer hide how upset and frightened she was. She had gone red in the face and was on the point of tears, as was my sister. I looked at her anxiously and wished fervently for the ordeal to be over as quickly as possible.    Every single item in the trunk was subjected to a rigorous check; not even the tiniest thing was passed without being thoroughly scrutinised, even though it was of trivial value.    The things which we were to be allowed to take with us - thanks to the generosity of the Turkish customs authorities - were packed back into the trunk. Those items that they did not consider we should take were placed in a pile at one end of the bench.    Suddenly the officer pounced on a piece of cloth, held together with safety pins, in which we had wrapped four precious icons from the family icon stand. My mother had been given them by my grandmother and looked upon them as her most cherished possessions. She never let the oil run out that burned in the little dish in front of the icons and she never went past that part of the house without crossing herself devoutly. My grandmother had told her:    "Look after these icons, my daughter. They work miracles and are very valuable."    My mother froze as she saw the customs official undo the four safety pins and examine the contents of the cloth.    "What have you got in here?" he asked, eyeing my mother enquiringly.    "Just some icons which we always keep in our house," she whispered.    He looked at the icons one by one. Then without hesitation he wrapped them up again in the same cloth and put them with the pile at the end of the bench, snarling: "These icons aren't going anywhere! They're staying here!" At the same moment he raised his hand and called over a younger colleague who happened to be passing and was smoking a cigarette.    "Come here, you!" he said. "You're younger than me and don't need to rest. I need a break, and anyway I have to leave a bit earlier today. You can stand in for me!"    The other man objected loudly: "Do what?! Stand in for you? You must be joking! I work like a dog for ten hours a day and I don't take orders from you."    At this, the official dealing with our case grew livid. A fierce row broke out before our very eyes and they almost came to blows. Finally some other customs workers intervened and our official said: "We'll go the manager and get him to resolve our disagreement. I'll teach you to respect your elders and betters!"    Then he ordered the soldier standing behind him: "You make sure nothing's touched while I'm out - if it is, you'll be responsible!" 95 and 96 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 (97th of 204) © For Internet 2001 HEC and Leonidas Koumakis. Updated on 19 June 2001.