Because he had seven children he worked hard to provide for his family. He owned a business where he made things from timber. He could make almost anything, starting from building a house, making furniture, barrels, tools and other equipment that people used. He was a very kind and brave man, willing to help anybody at anytime.

My father survived World War Two and he used to talk about it a lot with his friends and younger brothers. But because I was very scared to listen to the misery he went through, I made sure I was not there to hear those things, there for I don't really know much about his suffering.

I don't really remember the houses he used to build either, because that was happening before I was born. My mother had enough of that business and she told my father to build one proper house for his family and to leave it alone, because the children were growing up and they needed a proper house to live in.

The last house he built was in 1958 and I grew up in that house. The house used to have a kitchen, 3 bedrooms, bathroom, hall, storage room and a veranda. In the kitchen in the right corner we used to have a white combustion stove with a big chimney. Every winter the chimney man used to come to clean the chimney and he used to be all black and look like a ghost. We use to be so scared of him, and mum used to say, " If you are naughty the chimney man is going to come and take you away".

My mum used to cook on that stove and at the same time it also warmed up the house. Every morning she used to bake fresh bread. Throughout history bread is the most important part of our daily food. In our culture bread is very respected because of starvation during the wars. Bread is not supposed to be thrown away when you think how many people die each day from hunger. Bread is made basically from flour, yeast, salt and water, which was a very economical way to feed the children at that time. Mum use to wake up about five o clock in the morning, walk slowly through the house up to the kitchen, where she would open the  fire in the stove and then she would  start to make bread. In the  winter time she prepared the dough the night before and left it overnight to rise. Mum would  knead the dough in the morning and bake a loaf of fresh bread. That beautiful smell used to wake me up every morning. For breakfast we used to have fresh bread with homemade jam or butter with a cup of hot milk.

In the other corner of the kitchen was a cabinet where mum used to put her dinnerwear and other kitchen equipment. In the middle of the kitchen was a dining table and chairs which were built by my father. We used to do our homework on the table and some time drawing and calculate mathematics on the table. Very often we had to scrub the table with brush and soapy water and polish it with bees wax. Under the window there used to be a wooden bench where mum put her pot plants. There were a few tapestries on the wall, mostly made by my sisters. We used to have timber floors which we had to scrub every Saturday, and on special occasion mum used to put her special rugs that she made herself on the floor. 

The bedrooms were much simpler, more like a hospital with lots of beds in there. My bedroom used to have three single beds a wardrobe and table and chair in the middle of the room. My brothers room was much the same, but my parent's bedroom used to have a bedroom suite and baby cot, because of my youngest brother who is four years younger then me.

The store room was downstairs. It was dug under the house to be cool in summer and warm in the winter. We didn't have a refrigerator so my mum stored all her food downstairs.

Most people in the village were ether part of our family or  friends of my parents so they didn't  worry about  us children, where we were, or what we were doing. My auntie and her husband used to live next  door. When I was small I was terrified of my uncle. He was a big and strong man who never had a smile on his face. He always worked hard and screamed at all children. He even used to make loud noises when he ate his lunch, especially soup. My brother used to say it sounded like he was going to suck up the whole lake. All  the children in our village used to be scared of him. To them he was like a big bad giant.

One summer my brothers and I went to steal fruit from my uncle's garden. He used to have nectarines and peaches in his garden and when they were ripe we couldn't resist  going to get some, even though we knew we would be finished if he caught us. One day my brothers put me on their shoulders to grab the fruit and we didn't realise that uncle Nickels was hiding behind the tree and watching us. He came out waving his hands and started to scream, " You rascals". My brothers dropped me down and ran off, but I was left alone to confront my uncle. He was furious , I saw his angry face, he grabbed  me and shook me and said. " You little devil child, now I am going to give you a lesson". I started to cry and pleaded with him to let me go. " Please uncle, don't hurt me. I will never do this again". For a moment we stood staring at each other fearing what might happen next. He realised from watching me that I was absolutely terrified and that we were both getting out of control. He let me go but he kept shouting after me that he was going to tell my parents and how they were not looking after their children properly. My parents didn't care much what he said because they never liked that man themselves. They did tell us however not to take his things. He was a man who couldn't understand children because he never had his own, and because of his own bad experiences during his childhood. 

My village was big and it was divided into East, West, South and North. At the centre of the village we used to have a school, supermarket, church, cemetery and Town Hall where people socialised. Because in our tradition we celebrate Saints day, the villagers would come together very often for religious festivals. The villagers were rich because of the rich soil and they were able to grow everything they needed for every day life. They worked hard because at that time they didn't have technology, so most of the work was done by hand with the help of horses. My father always used to have two beautiful horses, one black and the other red with a white line down its face. My older brother worked with the horses, and my father had a business at home where he made most of the equipment for working in the fields, and around the house, furniture and of course the houses that he build. Most of the villagers relied on him. He was very busy with his work so that he had to work at night sometimes. I used to try to help him so at night I would hold the petrol lamp for him while he was working, because we didn't have electricity at the time. He used to sing me songs so I wouldn't fall asleep.

My mother was very busy with us seven children, cooking, cleaning and washing. I used to play soccer with my brothers and we would come home so dirty which upset my mum very much. She didn't have a washing machine or drier at the time , and in winter, in Europe, it took you a week to dry clothes, so I can imagine what I did to my mother then.

My first memory in my childhood was when I was about 3-4 years old. I couldn't speak properly so I called my niece crazy one. I was 6 months older then her so when we were small we always played together. We used to play a lot around the lake across the road from my father's house. My father used to go fishing a lot and he had a small pedaling boat in the water, just opposite the house. 

One day while me and my niece were playing around the lake she wanted two of us to go for a ride in the boat. I told her that I was too scared of the water and didn't want to go, but she went on her own without me. She was so little that she couldn't possibly pedal the boat. She moved off in the boat and I stayed playing with the mud, making mud biscuits. While I was playing I kept checking on how my niece was going on the water. 

At one moment I looked up and I saw an empty boat swinging around and she was nowhere to be seen. I started to scream and call her name, "crazy, crazy where are you". My father heard me screaming and he ran from the house towards me to see what had happened. While he was running he saw the empty boat on the lake. I told him that crazy one was some where in the water. My father ran into water up to his waist to rescue her. When he got close to her he saw my niece lying on her back on the bottom of the lake with open mouth and eyes, and bubbles coming out of her mouth. He grabbed her by the legs and shook her until she brought all the water out. I was standing at the edge of lake screaming, jumping and calling for her, " Is she all right?". I saved her life and everybody praised me, but I was too small to understand what was going on. 

Later on we were the best of friends. We went to school together. I got married six months before her, and my son is ten months older than hers, but both boys were born in 1973. Many times since my niece has thanked me for saving her life. But some times, when she had problems, she used to say that I should have left her to drown in the lake at that time long ago when we were young. But really we both know that my father was the hero of this situation. 

There are many ways to be hero, but my father proved to me he was a hero on a number of other occasions, one example was when I saw him catch a snake with his hands. Nothing on earth scares me more than snakes, so that was the most physically heroic thing someone could do to show me his hero nature. He never killed snakes, because he believed there was a reason for every creature on the earth to live.

People in the town used to call my father when they saw a snake around the house, so he would catch them and take to the nearest forest and let them go free.When he caught snakes he used to show us how he did that dangerous job. First if you don't have a special stick with which to catch the snake by the neck and pin it to the ground, then you must wear proper shoes so that you can step on its neck before catching it behind the ears. This way  it can't move its head and be a danger to you. Watching my father catching a snake by the neck was the worst thing for me; seeing the body curling around his arm, that terrified me, but also made me so proud of my dad, that he could do something like that.  

When I was a little girl I always thought that my father was the best person in the world, until I grew into my teenage years. I started to see my father differently. Not because he changed, but because I was the one who started to make problems, and started to fight with him. Sometimes I was furious at him. I couldn't understand his other responsibilities, I thought he didn't care for me any more.  When I had my own children I realised and began to understand my parents much better, and that what we used to fight about was because they loved me.

Sadly my father had a heart attack and he died just before his sixty-ninth birthday. That was the biggest tragedy in my life, but the worst thing of all was that I never had a chance to say sorry to my dad. That guilt is going to stay with me for the rest of my life. When I think of my father I now know what kind of man he was, that he was, and he always will be, my hero.
When I think of my childhood my father features very strongly in my memories, but also my village which has changed completely over the years. When I was growing up life was much simpler and seemed happier than what it is now. Maybe because I was young and I saw things differently. It doesn't mean that life was easier for adults at the time. Technology and standard of living has changed everything but the past will always stay in my memory
 
 
 
 
 

Nada (1996)