Kostas focused on clearing the grass and weeds outside, fixing the roof so it was secure from the weather, and unloading the beds and other household items to make the cabin a home for his family.
Finally, the cabin was a home—a very cosy home.
Each of the girls had a room to themselves, Kostas and Aphrodite had a room, and Katerina took the annex to ensure that the family was free from her presence and possible interference. They were soon to find out that the town had a small school with a teacher who was irritated with life and was always ratty.
There was a church, St Nicholas, a cemetery next to the church, and a town square with a coffee lounge, where the men would meet.
There was an office for official business and a small store to buy supplies from; it transformed into a general marketplace twice a month so that the locals could sell their goods.
As time passed, the children went to school, the family and Katerina would attend church on Sundays, and to a large extent, the family accepted their new life. After much cleaning and some paint and hard work, the cabin became their comfortable home.
Kostas continued to make hats but had to sell them at much lower prices compared to the prices he sold the hats for in the market in Athens. He would sell the hats at the marketplace twice a month, when villagers from all around the area would congregate to buy wares, goods, and produce.
The demand was more for caps than hats. Kostas worried that the income from the hats was insufficient to feed his family.
As part of the estate of his father and grandfather, there were several parcels of land. He was slowly shown the land by the prefect, who knew where the lands were positioned. It took Kostas about a year to truly familiarise himself with the lands.
Some of the land was hard to access in the mountains; some were in the fields. Some were unusable land, and other lands were fertile.
Kostas was also a very keen hunter. He would venture into the forest and the mountains and shoot wild hare, wild goats and pigs, rock partridges, common quails, and common pheasants.
The family was usually fed well in meat from Kostas’s hunting trips. In winter, the meat would keep well. In summer, however, the game had a short life.
It was now 1890, and the family had been in Vrostena for three years. They were happy and settled in the village.
In Athens, things had worsened. Poverty had taken its toll on the people who had no food to feed their families. Kostas and Aphrodite were pleased they had made the choice to leave Athens but were very sad that their countrymen were starving and in dearth.
Kostas now proceeded to sow currants and raisins and plant cherry and olive trees and tobacco and sold his goods at the local and outside markets. This venture by Kostas was producing much-needed money to take care of his family. Kostas continued to make hats and the popular caps, but at a much-smaller scale.
When the men met with Kostas at the coffee lounge, there was heavy discussion concerning the state of affairs in Athens.
The villagers of Vrostena were quite isolated from the politics of the country. The news was that Greece was bordering on bankruptcy.
The village of Vrostena was fortunate that it had a teacher up to sixth class and that there was a junior high school up to fourth form in the town of Akrata about twenty kilometres away by the sea. For the obvious academically minded students, there was a senior high school to obtain a matriculation certificate from the skolarhio in Patras about eighty kilometres from the village. Other villages had no schools given the parlous state of Greece’s economy.
The king of Greece did nothing but promote emigration of his people to the United States and elsewhere. Yet the king approved the building of grand public buildings, statues, and other public enterprises whilst the people starved.
The king also placed his royal hand in the public purse to have the revival of the ancient Olympic Games take place in Athens in 1896. Greece simply could not afford these extravagances.
It came to a point that political corruption, bribes, and thieving of the public purse brought the country to its knees. The country spiralled into sovereign insolvency, and foreign controllers took over the country’s finances to pay the debts. It was an embarrassment that Kostas and the men of the village could not fathom.
The prefect had been advised that the prime minister, Trikoupis, had put in place the building of roads and railways, the digging of the canal of Corinth, and other projects that did not commence or had started and could not be finished because of a lack of funds.
Rather than employ local Greeks to do the work, French, Italian, and British contractors were brought in to work on the projects. Many thought the king did so to find favour with foreign leaders.
Other believed this occurred because large sums of money exchanged hands to bribe the politicians and, in turn, a percentage of that money received by the politicians was funnelled into the pocket of Trikoupis to fund his next election campaign and his lifestyle.
Aside from his questionable practices as a politician and leader, his lifestyle consisted of much wine, women, and song.
In the summer of 1893, Trikoupis stood before parliament and said, ‘Regretfully, we are bankrupt.’
That declaration by the prime minister wounded the nation, a disgrace for all that believed in the Greek flag. He died in Cannes, France, after he left Greece ill and himself almost bankrupt.
Although he was remembered romantically as a reformist building roads and infrastructure, it was befitting that his last breath was taken in France and not in Greece. He was buried in Athens, but many thought this was inappropriate.
The twentieth century was fast approaching, and the war with the Ottomans was still flaring up at the borders.
Kostas and his family could survive the poverty with their own garden, fresh mountain water from the wells on the land they owned, the successes of Kostas’s hunting campaigns, the sale of hats, and the sale of their produce. It was a generally careful lifestyle.
Their children were happy and well fed with eggs from their chickens and milk, yogurt, and cheese from their goats and sheep.
The family celebrated the incoming year, 1900, bringing in the change of the century with great hope.
They were also fortunate that Katerina was still alive, and she too enjoyed the New Year, 1900, with a vasilopita (sweet bread) and yaourtopita (yogurt bread).
The family also enjoyed the new century with a lamb on the spit, fresh garden vegetables, hard-boiled eggs, wine, and sweets.
Where was Greece at the change of the century?
King George was still the king. He had to allay the complaints of the Greek people concerning the language spoken in Greece.
There were riots. The people wanted a simple language because of their lack of education. The church and the wealthy wanted a cleansed upper-class language to parade their education, superiority, and status in life. The Greek people loathed any distinction in the classes.
This dispute caused the government to fall, and the king’s position was again fragile.
In February 1900, Aphrodite approached Kostas and said, ‘I am pregnant with your child.’
Kostas was surprised but glad as he regarded any child as a gift from God. Kostas had three daughters and was curious to see if he would be blessed with a fourth daughter or he would finally have his son.
On 15 August 1900, the celebration of the Holy Virgin Mary and a significant religious celebration in Orthodoxy, Kostas and Aphrodite were blessed with a son.
Katerina took one look at him and said, ‘My child, you have the whitest of skin, the smile of a soul that has been here before, and the bluest of eyes. I love you.’
Kostas looked at Aphrodite and said, ‘May I please call my son Andreas?’
She nodded and smiled.
The child was blessed and christened in St Nicholas Church in the village of Vrostena.
As he was the first child to be born from the Kapelis family in the paternal home for over a century, there was a party at the Kapelis house for the entire village. It was a joyous event.
In the next ten years, Andreas grew into fine, healthy child. He played happily both at home and in the forest surrounding the village. Andreas also accompanied his father to tend to the farm animals and to the land that produced raisins, currants, cherries, and tobacco.
Above all, Andreas was a clever child with raw intellect. He would listen to his grandmother Katerina tell him tales and stories of her time in Odessa with his namesake grandfather. He also learnt to speak some Russian.
Andreas’s sisters tended to household chores, learnt sewing, knitting, cooking, cleaning, and childcare duties.
One by one, Andreas’s sisters married and started their own lives—one in the village, one in Patras, and the final sister in Athens.
Kostas also slowly taught Andreas the skill of hat-making. Andreas was learning the trade but preferred to be educated and had a hunger for learning.
In 1910 Katerina died, and Andreas was left heartbroken. Although she was an old woman, she was the well of knowledge for Andreas to quell his thirst. Katerina was buried in the village cemetery.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
VROSTENA 1912-1917 (WORLD WAR I)
In 1912, Andreas was in his final year of primary school in the village. Andreas loved his school and the teacher. The school in the village was alive and passionate with the history the children were taught.
The teacher, Mr Mavros, was a man who, for a teacher, said very little.
He smiled with the side of his mouth and placed his hand on his moustache to not offend the young audience when his booming voice would tell the tales of their homeland to his young pupils.
Every morning, after the daily prayer, the children would discuss the achievements of their ancient race. Mr Mavros would teach the learning of the Greeks in the areas of democracy, philosophy, and politics.
In the afternoons, he would quietly and powerfully influence the children’s enquiring minds with the notion of freedom, justice, and the ills of power.
The Greek flag furled outside the main wooden window, displaying the colours of the sea and the snow.
Mr Mavros reinforced the powerful blue-and-white spirit of the nation’s proud history with words that, in due course, would last forever in the mind of Andreas throughout his life and, ultimately, his soul.
Mr Mavros would start the final lesson of the day by saying words that were deliberate and full of pain. ‘Our flag tells us of the blood spilt on our soil. The nine stripes represent each of the letters spelling the word freedom [elefteria]. Who in the class can tell me what freedom means?’
Andreas was busy signalling through the window to his friend Aspros to get the guns ready and the dogs keen so that the friends could go hunting for wild hare after class was finished.
Aspros had left school at eight years old and lived the life of a rural man, touching the earth and living under the unspoilt and forever skies of the Hellenic sunset. He rejected words and learning for the pleasures of growing food and wine and hunting the wild hare to eat the fresh meat of nature.
He was illiterate and could not write nor read. He had one hunting dog of Laika pedigree, who was as loyal to him as Andreas was to him and more useful than Andreas.
Andreas knew Aspros could not read the newspaper. When he asked Andreas what was the news of the day, Andreas would sit back in the cane chairs with the soiled pillows against the frail mud-brick walls of Aspros’s small shack and mislead him with fancy nonsense.
Andreas did not have access to the papers, although he pretended he did. Aspros was none the wiser of what was going on to the far north of the nation’s border, and Andreas loyally refused to tell him.
The year 1912 was well under way.
Aspros was anxious to continue to adore all that his Greek ancestors had left for him to enjoy now that he had left school for a rural life.
Mr Mavros spoke again in an authoritarian and black tone, repeating his questions ‘Can someone tell me what freedom means?’
Andreas’s thoughts were racing in anticipation of the freedom of leaving the class to join Aspros in youthful pleasure and play. Without the break of reality burdening Andreas’s duties as a pupil to define the word freedom for Mr Mavros, his mind was free of all that was happening around him.
‘Kapelis!’ boomed Mr Mavros.
He had now come to Andreas’s desk at the back of the classroom near the tired wooden window and placed his regal yet unworked large hands upon Andreas’s desk.
Andreas noticed that his fingers and the apex of his hand were full of the hair of maturity, suggesting that his maturity meant that his views were fixed and would not change.
‘Sorry, sir,’ Andreas said in a cheeky and youthful voice. ‘In my silence, I defined freedom by looking out the window.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mavros said. With his authority now challenged, Andreas detected an elevation in his usually deep voice.
‘I am suggesting that my silence represents a philosophical approach to responding to your task,’ Andreas replied defiantly.
‘You were signalling to Aspros through the window. How is that defining the word freedom?’ he said desperately.
‘You see,’ Andreas commenced, ‘you have me trapped inside this place of learning and the only way to freedom was to let my thoughts run with Aspros.’
Mavros did not immediately respond. He remained silent and stared at Andreas in contempt. The silence remained until the end of the class for that day.
After the children sang the national anthem to mark the conclusion of the class, the children commenced to exit the grand hall.
The grand hall was a classroom during school hours and was used for village meetings and businesses and was extended to a courtroom in the evenings and at other times.
As Andreas rose to his feet to leave, Mavros finally broke his silence. ‘Andreas Kapelis, you embarrassed me in the presence of your peers. Your punishment is exile. Do you understand?’
‘Exile!’ Andreas was bemused by the remark, and his body betrayed his inner thoughts. ‘That is what I want—to leave this place and go to the fields to start my life.’
Mavros was visibly upset by the insolence displayed by Andreas, and he placed his head into his manly hands. He pointed to the door and told Andreas to leave. Andreas did as he asked.
As Andreas stood under the large open doorway, Mavros quietly stated that he would visit his home that night to discuss his behaviour with his parents.
The teacher’s threat to visit Andreas’s parents did not dampen his spirit in anticipation of meeting up with Aspros.
It was well before night, and Aspros and Andreas hunted for wild hare along the side of the mountains amongst the tall plane trees until darkness forced their quest to cease.
From a young age Andreas had accompanied his father and their workers to the fields far from his home in the village.
They attended also to the grapes that made the wine, the pine trees to take their sought-after sap, and the olive groves to nurture the gift of Mother earth, the oil, the lifeblood of the village.
The many single animal tracks and man-made paths were etched like a grid in the memory of Andreas, leading to his destinations and a source of comfort in returning home after each task was completed.
After each voyage, Andreas returned to his village of Vrostena. The air surrounding the village was crisp and clear with the sweet smell of pine trees all year around. At any point in the village, the senses were entertained and satisfied.
In the near distance, one was relaxed by the bluest Sea of Corinth following its old path to the Aegean towards the east and the Adriatic towards the west.
The streetscape in the village was the rugge
d mountains and relative hills of the Peloponnese, always there to protect its people.
In the far distance to the north, sketching along the dark horizon was mainland Greece or, as it was known, Roumeli.
The people of the Peloponnese were the peoples of Morea (the site of the mulberry trees), the keepers of Greek culture, tradition, religion, and most importantly, the Hellenic language.
The expulsion of the despots had been seeded in the Peloponnese assisting the revolution, which matured in 1821 and commenced in the near mountains.
The main area of the village, or the platea, was active with friends and relatives that Andreas knew and who also knew Andreas well. When a villager met an acquaintance, the smiles and the greetings were genuine and warm.
Surnames were announced rather than first names in a sharing moment with a touch on the shoulder, a slap on the back, or the holding of the hand. The mention of nicknames meant that trouble was brewing between the men.
Aspros was Andreas’s dearest friend, and they often shared a small cup of strong Turkish coffee together in the Kafeneion with a piece of Turkish delight.
The coffee shop was not merely a place to drink strong hot beverages. The men in the village would always meet to discuss the business of the village, play cards or backgammon for pleasure or for the hope of financial gain, pass on information, and share rumours and scandals.
There was no other way. Andreas’s actions, behaviour, and conduct had been infused by the lifestyle and ethics of living from, by, and with the land. At that time, Andreas was still pure in mind, spirit, and soul.
Aspros and Andreas bid each other good night and a healthy start to the new morning. Andreas ventured down the last track leading from the town square to his home.
The path consisted mainly of pebbled stone and the odd growth of foliage, half eaten by the ever-hungry goats and sheep that grazed on the mountaintops on their return to their respective homes.
Andreas held a great respect for the goats and sheep of the mountains.
These animals needed little care as they ate what they found and were loyal to their keepers.
Kapelis- The Hatmaker Page 7
