A STORY AS TOLD BY MARIA KASSOS
Translated by Dr. Beulah Castan
I can recall the stories my parents told me when I was a child of the hardships they suffered at the hands of the Turks while living in Asia Minor. As I listened to them, I empathised so much that even now I find it painful to retrieve those memories.
My father was born in Kislam in Asia Minor and he and his dad had fields where they grew crops and collected fruit from their orchards. The father of my father was a miller and he had his own windmills. Both wind and water mills had been inherited from their fathers. The Turks captured and took my grand-father, because he was a Greek citizen, but they left my father as he was only fourteen years of age. He was working at the flour mill when a Turk who was an assistant to an Army Lieutenant came in to have some of his wheat milled. My father let him wait his turn to get his wheat milled and he objected but my father insisted that he wait his turn. This offended the man who told his superiors of my father’s actions. The order was given to capture and take my father on a march. The Turks had the habit of taking the Greek men and making them march for days on end. My father went on such a march and as he walked bare footed, after a while he could not keep walking as his feet were blistered. The Turk who was astride his horse would strike him with his whip. As they passed through villages, the Turks would let them to beg for some bread to survive. One day, they told them they could go further into a village and drink some water from a well. My father was limping behind the adult men and therefore arrived last at the well. The Turk was so angry because he arrived late that as he was bending to drink some water the Turk pushed him and he fell forward on to his hands. Because my father responded with the polite statement “Thank you very much, Sir” he was told he could now drink. My dad was so distressed that he forgot his thirst. On this march, he saw his father ahead of him, but the Turk would not let him go near him nor give him any bread to eat nor to talk to him. On these marches, some would survive and some would not. Shortly after, an agreement was made for the Greeks to leave and we became refugees and left Asia Minor for Greece.
My mother at that time was very young and she cannot recall too much except for the stories her parents told her. My mother was born in Stadia. She was only six years of age when the Turks shot her father. All my mother can remember about her dad was that he had blue eyes. My mother was the youngest of six siblings. One day a good neighbour who was Turkish came to the house, and told my grandmother Maryo “give me your daughters to safe keep at my house because I have heard the Turkish men were going to go to all the Greek homes to rape the young girls”. She was certain that they would not go to her home as she was Turkish. Grandmother, accepted the offer and let the two oldest girls go to the Turkish neighbour’s house.
When the Greeks were told to leave Asia Minor, they took with them only a few personal belongings, like many refugees of that time. My mother told me that one man who owned some windmills in a village that they were marching past, climbed up and lit fire to the wings of the windmill so that they could see where to go in the dark and avoid falling into the wells or over the dead people in the paths. My father also told me that he not only endured the long marches but also the horror of seeing the Turks cut off the fingers of ladies to take their rings.
These are but a few stories that I can recollect my mother telling me.
My father’s name was Emmanuel Kelis and my mother’s name was Sevasti Angeli Mihailou.
Mr Emmanuel Kelis and Mrs Sevasti Angeli Mihailou – Mrs Maria Kassos’ father and mother with their grandson Arthur Kassos and his wife.
Mrs Sevasti Angeli Mihailou - Mrs Maria Kassos's mother
Mr Emmanuel Kelis and Mrs Sevasti Angeli Mihailou – Mrs Maria Kassos’ father and mother