CHAPTER 89

I Am Philothei (15)

When the committee came to value our property none of us was very concerned. We didn’t think we would be deported anyway, because we didn’t speak Greek. Only Leonidas Efendi knew Greek, and Father Kristoforos.

And we said, “We aren’t Greek, we are Ottomans,” and the committee said, “There’s no such thing as Ottoman any more. If you’re a Muslim you’re a Turk. If you’re Christian and you’re not Armenian, and you’re from round here, you’re Greek.”

We said, “We ought to know who we are,” and they just ignored us and carried on valuing our property.

So when the gendarmes arrived with an official firman, and we were given almost no time to get ready for leaving, it was a terrible shock to all of us, and no one knew what to do, and what to take with them, and I can’t describe the panic.

Most people were looking for neighbours to sell their property to, but because everyone was trying to sell, no one could get a good price. My father Charitos was walking about like everyone else, laden down with pots and carpets, trying to sell them. My brother Mehmetçik was an outlaw because he’d deserted the labour battalion, and there was no way to get a message to him. My mother Polyxeni was weeping and clutching at her head with both hands even as we tried to sort out our possessions and gather provisions. In the end she decided to leave her trunk with Ayse, widow of Abdulhamid Hodja, in the hope that one day she could come and get it. I helped her carry it to Ayse’s house, and Ayse Hanim was very upset and we had to reassure her.

The worst thing for me was that I was torn in half because I was betrothed to Ibrahim, and he was far away in the rocks with the goats and Kopek, his dog. I was a Christian, but if I married him I would be a Muslim. I didn’t know what to do. I loved him but I knew he was still not in his right mind, but I also knew that he very nearly was. I loved my father and mother and wanted to leave with them to our new home, but I also wanted to stay and be married to my beloved if he got better.

I was revolving these problems in my mind until I couldn’t bear it any longer, and I thought I was going to go mad with the distress, and when my mother wasn’t looking I ran away up the street, past the grand houses that used to belong to the Armenians, and then I ran through the thorns and the tombs, and I came across the Dog and I said to him, “Please, Dog Efendi, where has Ibrahim taken the goats?” and he pointed over the hill towards the sea, and he wagged his finger at me as if to say “Don’t go,” but I went anyway.