The Lace Tablecloth

by Anastasia Gessa-Liveriadis

  ‘You must be visiting someone,’ the strange woman said. ‘I’ve been here eight months and I’ve never seen you before.’

  ‘No. I’m from here,’ Tasia answered startled. ‘I was in Ptolemais, attending high school and I’m back in the village waiting for the results.’

  ‘I thought so. You don’t look local. You look different. How can I say: more refined.’ She paused. ‘Let me introduce myself: my name is Olga, and I’m your new, qualified midwife. What is your name?’

  ‘Tasia,’ she answered timidly.

  ‘Pleased to meet you Tasia,’ Olga offered her hand. ‘What level are you?’

  ‘I’m in the final year. I hope to graduate.’

  ‘I wish you all the best. When will you know?’

  ‘The results will be out in four weeks. I’ll then have to go to Ptolemais to get the results and the certificate of social convictions.’

  ‘Oh yes! The essential certificate. And after that?’ she prompted.

  ‘After what?’ Tasia looked at her.

  ‘What are you going to do? I mean are you going to stay here in the village; are you going to leave; or are you going to study?’

  ‘I have no idea. It depends,’ Tasia answered lowering her head.

  ‘I advise you to leave. If you can, leave. This place is not for a girl like you.’

  Tasia was mystified.

  ‘Why do you say that? You came here, yet you are telling me to go?’

  ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I’m saying that if there are possibilities for you to live somewhere else, to explore other places, to broaden your horizons, do it. Don’t take me as an example. I’ll only be here for a short time. My contract is for one year and I’ve already been here eight months. I have no intention of renewing even though my salary is good and I get extra pay for working in the country. Financially, I’m doing well.’

  ‘Really?’ Tasia’s voice had a sarcastic tinge.

  ‘I didn’t come here for just the money. I wanted to offer my services and to change the world. But let’s forget about that now. I have to go. I haven’t slept all night and I must get to bed. See you again very soon,’ Olga said, and walked away.

  Tasia stood there watching her turn the corner and disappear. There was something intriguing in the tone of voice and the general demeanour of that woman that left Tasia impressed. The fact that a young girl could become a midwife was something new to her. The only kind of midwives she knew were some old and wrinkled village women in black dresses. There was something else a young woman could study besides teaching. Next time she met Olga she would ask her how could one became a midwife and what the work involved.

  She kept watching the street below, ready to run out to Olga the minute she appeared. They met again early in the morning a few days later when nobody else was around.

  ‘Good morning, Tasia,’ she greeted her from a distance.

  As soon as Olga arrived, she washed her hands and face and, bending over, she drank from her cupped palms. She sat on the trough’s edge and passed her wet hands over her flushed face. She looked very tired. She gazed directly at Tasia’s dress, moving her head disapprovingly, forcing an embarrassed Tasia to inspect the front of her dress, expecting to see a hole or stain or something similar.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s not you who makes me shake my head,’ Olga assured her, realising Tasia’s discomfort. ‘It’s me. I’m amazed at my stupidity and gullibility and I’m disgusted with myself.’

  ‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?’ Tasia asked with genuine interest.

  ‘I came here to supervise young pregnant women, to teach them what to do during pregnancy, to assist young mothers in labour and to teach them how to take care of their babies. But I’m wasting my time.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Tasia asked, again alarmed.

  ‘I’ve just come back from the village next door. Two men came late last night and asked me to go with them to see a sick baby. By the time I arrived the baby was dead. From what they told me I guessed the baby died from tetanus. A seven day-old baby boy. That’s tragic. It’s an inexcusable waste. Do you know how a baby dies from tetanus?’

  She stopped and looked at Tasia as if expecting an answer.

  ‘No,’ she answered apologetically. ‘Tell me how?’

  ‘It’s a germ. It’s widespread in the countryside, particularly where there are horses. If it finds it’s way inside the body, it multiplies and that’s it. You’re dead.’

  ‘Well, how does it get into the baby’s body?’ Tasia asked, genuinely interested.

  ‘From the infected hands of the midwife or her scissors. These women don’t follow the rules of proper hygiene. They don’t wash their hands; they don’t sterilise their equipment.’

  ‘Well, that’s not your fault!’ Tasia tried to reassure.

  ‘Of course not. But let me tell you, giving birth to a baby is not easy. A woman goes through hell. She suffers unbearable pains for hours. And to loose the baby after all this is unfair. But what irritates me most is their reaction. “It was God’s will” they say. What has God to do with that?’

  ‘But if that makes them feel better?’ Tasia commented.

  ‘You’re right. If everything is God’s will, you don’t have to think for yourself or accept responsibility for your actions. There’s no need for learning and changing your ways.’

  Tasia found herself defending them.

  ‘But that’s how the village midwives always worked.’

  ‘Yes, and if things have worked like this for thousands of years, why change them now?’

  Olga talked fast, as if her anger and her disappointment had reached its limit. Abruptly, she got up, walked up and down along the trough a few times, stopped, absent-mindedly glanced at Tasia, turned around and, before Tasia had time to reply, waved her goodbye and walked away. It was also time for Tasia to go, just in time to avoid Agnoula coming from the side street with her empty pots.

  After that brief encounter with Olga, Tasia went into deep thought. She was supposed to know about the things Olga had spoken of because they were part of everyday life. But she had never heard anybody talk about them before. They were taken for granted. They just happen.

  Still, as a person who had finished high school, she ought to have been better informed. She ought to have learnt about the structure and function of the human body, but she hadn’t. That was why she found many of Olga’s words confusing. That didn’t mean she didn’t know the words. To be more specific, she had never paid any special attention to them and never bothered about their broader meaning. What’s the use of trigo-nometry and logarithms, of Latin verbs and ancient syntax, she questioned herself? What was the relevance between the knowledge she acquired at school and real life? And if there was any relevance, how was she supposed to make the connection?

  Nevertheless, Tasia took as a compliment Olga’s readiness to confide in her, at the same time feeling ashamed for her own ineptitude and ignorance. They had only spoken to each other twice, but Tasia felt as if Olga was her life-long friend, someone she could open her heart to and confide in — without any hesitation — all her dreams and feelings, even the ones she didn’t want to acknowledge or didn’t know she had.

  Why couldn’t she feel the same way with her parents? Tasia thought. Why couldn’t she talk to them? She had a faint suspicion they wouldn’t understand her and that in many areas their knowledge was even more dismal than hers. The fact they had not asked her how she did at school and about her future plans was their way of protecting her, or perhaps protecting themselves from likely disappointment.

  Something else crossed her mind. Ever since she was a child, she had observed how servile her parents were towards educated people like the priest and the primary school teacher.

  Maybe her parents looked at her as an educated person too, an idea that disturbed her enormously and made her feel even more alone.

  Tasia went to fetch water very early the following morning, eager to meet Olga and ask her
several questions. It took her some time to realise the strong rhythmic thumping that appeared to be coming from some distance away was her own heartbeat. She was restless and loitered around impatiently, washing and rinsing her pitchers over and over, watching the road and hoping to see Olga appear. But Olga was nowhere to be seen. When finally she bent over to lift the full pots, their weight seemed impossible.

  Olga didn’t appear the following morning, either. In vain, Tasia watched from her window, trying to spot her among all the people who were passing by.

  So, Olga, too, had disappeared. Just like George, the man she waited for in vain one Sunday afternoon at the tee intersection. In fact, she was still waiting for him. Every time she passed this particular intersection her heartbeat sped up and her eyes kept searching down the road, expecting to see him appear. Every time she passed this particular intersection she felt the same pain, disappointment and desperation as then, with the same or even increased intensity. Could it be, Tasia wondered, I’m so naive and stupid as to give to every casual acquaintance more significance than is warranted?

  Tasia finally saw Olga again one Sunday morning. Most people were in church, the village square was empty and the coffee shop was closed. She found Olga sitting on the edge of the trough with her head deep in the pages of a book. She smiled warmly at Tasia when she saw her, folded the corner of the page she was reading, closed the book and placed it on her lap. Then she indicated to Tasia to come and sit by her side.

  ‘I came here early hoping to see you not knowing if you go to church,’ she said.

  ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ Tasia answered, obviously pleased, and sat next to Olga.

  ‘It’s been a long time since we spoke last.’

  ‘Yes, five days. Where have you been?’ asked Tasia full of curiosity.

  ‘I haven’t stopped. I visited five of the surrounding villages as part of my duty. People know which day I’ll visit, and they wait for me.’

  ‘Do you walk to each village?’ Tasia asked, amazed.

  ‘Only to the near ones. I go to the others by mule. I hire one from Vasili, your neighbour. But I’m not used to riding, so ride side-saddle. My bottom is raw from the rubbing and all my bones hurt.’

  ‘Well, what do you do there? In the villages I mean?’

  ‘I take care of pregnant women and their babies. Infant and maternal mortality are very high in the provinces. That’s why the government opened these services and is paying good money. The funny thing is that when I arrive in a village, I usually find a queue of people with different ailments waiting for me. One wants to show me his wounds, another to tell me he has a pain somewhere and others ask me to take their blood pressure. They’ve heard about me and they think I’m a doctor. What can you say? Amongst the blind the one-eyed man is king. No doctor is willing to come to these impoverished villages. But if any doctor hears that I dress wounds and take blood pressures, they’ll make my life hell.’

  ‘You have an interesting life!’ exclaimed Tasia with admiration.

  ‘Yes, it’s interesting. Come and see for yourself. Tomorrow I’m doing to Deltachori. If you have nothing better to do, come and keep me company.’

  ‘Really? Can I?’ ask Tasia full of excitement.

  They left very early in the morning, to avoid the heat. They walked on the narrow dirt path framed by low shrubs and climbers and scarred in two straight parallel lines by the cartwheels. The blackberries were getting ripe and the aroma of honeysuckle was intoxicating. Birds and all sorts of bugs and insects filled the air with the most enchanting sounds. Surely the world couldn’t have been more pristine the day it was created, Tasia thought.

  The road was empty and the fields deserted, several of them uncultivated and neglected. It was close to a year since the devastating civil war was over, leaving signs of its passing everywhere: destroyed villages, burnt-out and demolished houses, unde-veloped fields, decimated flocks and herds and thousands of orphaned children. Sad widows dressed in black were left to bring up their children alone. They worked day and night trying to put bread on the table. Like a twister, the insane war had flattened everything in its path, leaving misery and deep scars in people’s hearts.

  So far, very few people had managed to get out and take care of the uncultivated fields. The few cultivated tobacco fields were left with only straight, long stems, crowned by a tuft of white flowers, as the tobacco leaves had already been collected. Like big yellow blankets the cultivated wheat fields stood out among the open plains, the heavy spikes of the almost-mature wheat heads swaying gently in the breeze. The corn plants had grown tall and, in the few melon patches, the watermelons and cantaloupes were swelling and ripening under the hot sun. As the orchards were left unattended, the trees were almost choked by weeds, nettles, thistles and blackberries.

  Tasia walked on the cool path, feeling every fibre of her body bathe in a primeval sea of harmony and completeness. She took off her sandals, carried them in her hand and walked barefooted on the lush, moist grass in the middle of the path, absorbing deep inside her the healing energy of mother earth. Under the magic spell of nature and the warmth of the sun, she felt the ice inside her melt.

  ‘I’m so glad you invited me to join you. I’m so happy to be out here in the open air. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!’ she said with a childlike enthusiasm, almost ready to embrace and kiss Olga.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. The pleasure is all mine,’ Olga replied. ‘Look, I want you to know that I’m not haughty and snobbish. Honestly, I love and respect those hard-working people who are devoted to the land. They are decent and honest. In my opinion they form the backbone of our society. However, that’s not enough to make me want to stay here forever. There are not many things I have in common with them. Maybe it’s my education or because I grew up in another part of Greece but, believe me, outside my work there is nothing else I can talk about with them. That’s why I was so excited when I saw you. You are different and it shows. You look gentle and refined. It’s obvious you are educated. At the same time you are spontaneous, straight and pure like a child, as if you are from some other place, from some other planet.’

  A sweet exhilaration bathed Tasia as she listened to Olga. Yes! That’s exactly how she was: different from everybody else. She didn’t belong to this place. She didn’t belong to this planet. No one else had understood that; no one else had spoken to her that way. Like a magician, Olga had read her mind, got inside her heart and analysed its beats. She understood her to the core. Walking next to Olga, Tasia felt uplifted by her words, her feet not touching the ground. She was floating on a lofty dimension, insulated from the humdrum of everyday existence.

  The sun was fast climbing up through the clear, blue sky. The cicadas had begun their monotonous and persistent song as the two girls left the main street and took a smaller, meandering path. It was running parallel to a crystal clear stream that flowed peacefully over rounded pebbles. As the morning sunrays fell on dewdrops resting on the tips of grass and leaves, the whole place gave the impression of being awash with precious stones. The humble chamomile and blue cornflowers welcomed them, their happy faces turned towards the sun. The earth covered in luxuriant growth was tempting them to stop and lie on the grass, to bend over and quench their thirst in the crystal clear water, to wash their sweaty faces. It had been a long time since Tasia had enjoyed such peace and harmony within herself in the embrace of nature.

  ‘Nature in all its glory, bewitching you with its grandeur and beauty, stealing your heart,’ Olga murmured as if reading Tasia’s thoughts. ‘That’s the picture I’ll keep forever in my heart when I’m in far-off places.’

  Olga’s last words alarmed Tasia, jolted her whole body as if she were struck by lighting. She stopped.

  ‘What did you say? You’ll leave us? You’ll leave Greece?’ she asked panting and shaking.

  ‘Well, don’t fret like that,’ Olga teased her. ‘We’ve just met. Why are you worried about my leaving Greece? After all, I�
�m not your closest friend.’

  You are, you are! Tasia wanted to scream but, embarrassed, she remained silent.

  ‘Look,’ Olga continued. ‘The world no longer contains me. It’s very small. I have no parents or close relatives. I’m a single reed in the middle of a marsh. There is nothing to tie me to anything.’ She stopped and looked at Tasia. ‘You are different. You have your parents, your people, your home. You belong here, not in the village, of course, but in this country.’

  ‘What happened to your parents?’ Tasia wanted to know.

  ‘My mother died when I was ten years old. And my father left one morning during the war to go to work and never came back,’ Olga answered looking far into the distance.

  ‘That’s awful. I’m very sorry. How did you manage?’ Tasia was shaken.

  ‘Oh, that was a long time ago. Somehow we are more resilient than we know.’

  ‘So, why do you have to go?’ Tasia persisted. ‘You have a good job; you’re paid well; you’re alright, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you one thing. Every time I assist a woman giving birth I pray nothing goes wrong. As you know, there are no doctors around here and the hospitals are miles away. There are no taxis or telephones and, if there is an emergency, only God can help.’

  ‘Oh, my God! Being a midwife is not that easy then!’ said Tasia.

  ‘Not easy at all. You carry a lot of responsibility. That’s why I’ve made a pact with the local midwives. They have a lot of practical skills and I learn from them. I only have to watch that they follow the rules of basic hygiene. But don’t expect me to spend the rest of my life here. What would I do?’

  ‘Get married and settle down,’ Tasia volunteered.

  ‘Easier said that done! Marry who? You know what annoys me most with men around here? The less they know the more they try to convince you how much they know. And the behaviour of some towards women leaves a lot to be desired.’