| THE LONELY MAN'S EASTER (from Stephanos Lepouras book : "Tales from the island of Tzia" Go on for Christ’s sake, dress up for once and go to church like a man, on a day like the one today !
The black-clad old sextoness of St.Spyridonas continued on walking, hunched over, half limping and turning back to look at him now and then. She looked rather frightened at the man with the dirty jacket and greasy hair, who was yelling, swearing and threatening. His house was down below the front entrance, a covered roof called a steghadi, distinctive of local island architecture, and the door to his house was right on the street. The top half of the door, practically always open, gave passers-by the chance to look inside and see the mess and filth of this bachelor’s room. The house of the Mangoufis! The kids walking by would hit the door or throw tin canisters inside and he would come out and chase them. He never went to the cafes or to church and had nothing to do with anyone. Only every now and then he’d go for a walk in the afternoons as far as the Lion, always deep in thought and with a tired and abstracted gaze. Most people didn’t know who he was or where he came from, but nobody even cared. They didn’t even know his name. Mangoufis had stuck and that’s what everyone called him. One of life’s castaways who came and settled himself down near the steghadi. The sextoness, satisfied that she had finally given him a piece of her mind for once, arrived at the church and immediately began her work. It was still early, but there was a lot to do until the bells rang for Easter mass. In the church courtyard, chambers and in the streets the children were setting off fire-crackers, sparklers, and other similar festive things. Happy faces walked by over the newly whitewashed tiles. All of Chora was smiling under the Easter sun, which as it was setting towards the west, sent the final messages of the great day and prepared the faithful islanders for the Easter tidings. In Messada they were preparing the Judas. Everyone was joyful and only Mangoufis out of the whole village did not notice anything special on this festive day. With sadness written, as always, on his face and familiar indifference he began his usual walk towards the Lion. Some of the kids who were ringing the bells of St. John’s started to poke fun at him, but he didn’t even turn to look at them. He continued on with his vacant stare. On the way back his eye caught something down near the Channel in Sancarlo’s olive groves. He could see far away and despite the fact that nightfall had begun, he could clearly make out a tall kid who was tying something to a lemon tree. He didn’t give it much thought and returned to his lodgings. Kostis measured 5 full spreads of the arms of fuse and laid it down, on top of the dug up soil, from the lemon tree all the way to the wooden fence. There he made a pretzel with the fuse which was more than enough and hid it behind a rock. All afternoon he struggled, locked up in the basement making the bomb. He worked fixing streets and had learned quite a bit about explosives. He stole a stick of dynamite and fuse from his bosses' storage room and without telling anyone anything, he got ready for the big blast. The sweet sunset gave away to pitch darkness. The serene Easter night continued calmly until the hour that the bells rang. A crowd spilled out onto the streets and started to gather at the churches. Kostis had thought everything out exactly. He got dressed and went to St. Spyridonas. He went inside, lit a candle, crossed himself and after a while went out into the courtyard. The olive groves in the Channel sent out an intoxicating scent. Inside the darkness nothing could be seen, but Kostis could make out in his mind the lemon tree across from Sancarlo’s olive groves, with the dynamite tied to its trunk and the fuse laid out all the way to the wooden fence. All that was left for him to do was go, cut a piece of the wick with a pocket-knife, light it with a match and return to the church. He timed the moment and when the priest was ready to pass the holy light he slipped into the darkness and descended for the Channel. In a short while he was back. No one noticed him at all. The priest with the chanters exited the church and after a while the church bells of all three parishes started ringing. The buzz in Chora was explosive. Easter! Kostis waited for the big moment. His blast was not going to be like the others. However, time was going by and the blast did not go off. He began worrying. The priest and his chanters repeated several times "Christ has risen" and came bach inside. The parishioners with their big candles in their hands started conversing in the courtyard. Wishes, kisses, the breaking of eggs. The explosive atmosphere had stopped. But Kostis looked anguished. Maybe the fuse had burned out, he thought, or maybe it got tangled somewhere. And how could he go and look ? What if it caught fire then ? And if he left it there and the next day the man from the groves nearby or some passer-by saw it ? His anxiety didn’t last long. All of Hora rattled, the church quaked, its windows shattered. The priest appeared in front of the altar panic-stricken.
Soon the police inspector with two policemen arrived at St.Spyridonas. As soon as the people saw them in the courtyard, they gathered around them, to find out what had happened, who was responsible for this blast, which nearly drowned all of Hora. But even the police were asking the same thing. Kostis saw his chance and yelled out :
The police inspector told the policemen to go find Mangoufis. They started to look for him in the church but everyone told them that he would be at home because he never set foot in church. The two policemen brought him after a while to St. Spyridonas. The crowd fell on top of him.
He looked all around like a bird being chased. But for one moment his eyes glistened. Kostis was yelling louder that anyone, but from his pocket a piece of fuse was showing. Mangoufis threw himself on him.
Everyone froze. The inspector approached Kostis and pulled the fuse from his pocket. Then he stuck his hand inside and found a pocket-knife and a box of matches. Kostis was shaking all over. The policemen left Mangoufis and grabbed Kostis, who started snivelling as they took him away to the Castle. The people pulled away and Mangoufis was left alone in front of the iron gates of St. Spyridonas. The chanting from the beautiful Easter hymns reached his ears. The scent of the incense, the illumination, the people, woke up inside him all these old forgotten emotions. His eyes swelled with tears. He came to his senses and went to leave. But his feet were stuck. Then he became calm. He made a decision and walked towards the church. He entered, frightened, and crossed himself. Everyone turned and looked at the door. Even the priest came out from the altar onto the beautiful portal because he understood something unusual was happening. He saw Mangoufis walking as if lost, but with a sure step and a calm face. He decided to take advantage of this moment and signaled to the chanters to stop. Then he addressed the people :
The priest said a few more words and everyone watched in silence. It was the first time they heard that Mangoufis’ name was Antonis and they began to look at the old dirty man, who was standing in the center of the church, with sympathy. And when the service was over, everyone shook his hand, telling him : "Christ has risen, Antonis". And from that day on, no one ever called him Mangoufis again.
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