Based on true events – a story in sequels

Rooms for rent

― When I was a seventh grader in 1947, there were no apartment buildings, only rooms for rent. Rooms weren’t just for vacations like they are now, entire families used to rent these rooms and live in them. There were five rooms in our yard, but our family had the right to use the kitchen, and that was an advantage. The others kept their kitchenware on the side of the shared yard and used it when they needed it. Each family would take a corner of the yard and set up tables to wash dishes with the shared water supply we had.

I remember we moved into that house before my brother was born, in 1937. Another woman was pregnant when my mother was pregnant with my brother, and they had the children together. They were born ten days apart and both were boys. They grew up together and became close friends. My brother was called Nicholas and the other child was called Philip, and people called them Philip and Nathanael, like Jesus’ apostles who were very good friends and encouraged each other in their faith.

One day, when they were three years old, they were holding hands and pulling each other, walking towards the horizon. They lost their bearings and got lost. Their mothers went crazy with anxiety and looked for them everywhere, in all the alleys, until they reached the police station and reported that two small children had disappeared. They had gone out onto Vouliagmenis Avenue, but they were walking on the sidewalk, one behind the other. They were walking crying because they had realized that they were lost.

An old man found them and said, “Where are you two going?” They said, “To our house.” And he said, “Where is your house?” and they said, “We don’t know.” So he picked them up and took them to the police station. We didn’t have many police stations back then, so they just sent a kid to our house to let us know they had been found. These kids had been together their whole lives.

Philippou's mother lost her husband young, he died when she was 49, leaving her with no income or anything, only two small children and she only had the room she rented in our yard. I used to visit her even recently and she was always happy when she saw me, because she liked me from the old days. I was the eldest among the children in the yard and because I was active, I ran errands for her and even helped her get a small pension. She didn't know anything about pensions; she was from a village in Markopoulo, but at that time I was going to high school and I could help her with the papers.

She had to raise her children. She rented a second room in our yard and put two barrels in it because they had grapes from Markopoulo, so she started selling wine, and everyone knew that the best wine was made by Mrs. Marika. Then she bought a loom and started selling rags, and my mother was her first and best customer. My mother would bring her pieces of fabric and she would weave her carpets. When I got married, I even got a dowry from her, because rags are always in fashion. She raised her children on rags and wine and the small pension I made for her. When the children got a little older, she put everything in one room and left the second room empty, so it was available for rent.

At that time, rooms for rent in Athens were in high demand and there were no rental advertisements, only word of mouth. My father was the manager of the yard because the houses belonged to his older brother. But the older brother was now financially secure and had raised his own family and he didn’t mind that it took my father a long time to find a tenant for the second room. One reason my father didn’t rent the room right away was because I was seventeen at the time and my sister was about fifteen. At that time, young students from the provinces would come to Athens and look for a room to rent. So when my father saw young men, he wouldn’t rent it to them because he was afraid that his daughters would get involved with them.

Your grandfather Telemachus was also young, he was not twenty or twenty-seven, but thirty years old. Because he was well-built, however, he seemed older. He had gone to the village at that time and had brought his sister Helen, who was older and unmarried as there were no men in the village. It was then that he learned that his sister was still unmarried, because there had been no communication until then and he had not heard from his family all this time.

Your grandfather was born in 1918, he left his village in the Peloponnese when he was 18 to come to Athens. Someone convinced him to join the Gendarmerie in Athens, because they would provide him with free education. They also told him that if he joined the Gendarmerie he would do his service there and would not have to go to the front as a soldier if there was a war. However, he had not finished high school in his village, which was a prerequisite for entering the service. He told them that he was homeschooled and took exams at the Evangelical School and passed.

The Evangelical School was the most famous school for the Greek Orthodox of Smyrna. After the destruction of Asia Minor, the school was moved to Athens. They say that they literally transported pieces of the building on ships and it was re-established in an area of ​​wealthy Greeks from Turkey, called Nea Smyrna. The exams must have been difficult.

When World War II broke out, Telemachus was sent to the border in Macedonia, but because he was in the Gendarmerie, he had a double capacity and specialty. That is, he patrolled the cities and was also a member of the army which meant he could have a gun. Police Forces existed in only four cities in Greece, Athens, Piraeus, Corfu and Patras. So, the Gendarmerie helped police the cities during the war.

Your grandfather didn't want to go to war. He was devoted to his country, but he didn't want to risk his life, he didn't want to kill people. But he wouldn't like me to say that... He was proud of his country, loyal to Greece and very brave. Because whatever his country ordered him to do, he would do with zeal and self-denial, not for any party, but for his country. He never got involved in politics, nor did he ever get into arguments about such matters. After all, I knew more about politics than he did!

And even though he avoided the front lines during World War II, he couldn't avoid the Civil War. His job was to hunt down communist gangs, and I don't think he ever forgave them for that. During the Battle of Makrigiannis, he was here. He had shown up for duty, and the battle found him inside the building.

Imagine that someone had told his mother that her son had died in the civil war and that they had given him a funeral and that they had already held a memorial service for him when he showed up. It was a mistake, but the old mother believed it. Imagine the joy she would have felt when he returned to the village alive, in flesh and blood. She went crazy with joy, she thought she was seeing a ghost. Imagine your grandfather's surprise when he learned that a memorial service had been held for him while he was still alive.

So when he returned to Athens, he took his sister, Eleni, with him, hoping to find someone to marry her. She had beautiful features, but she was from a village, she was old and overweight, and at that time all of these were considered problems for marriage. But your grandfather had acquaintances with many people, and someone would always be there to help him marry her.

But the first thing was to find her a room to stay in Athens. Where he served as a gendarme, they weren't allowed to stay outside because of the civil war, so they slept in their service. He couldn't put her in the service. He had a cousin in Agia Paraskevi and he went and left her there for a few days until he could find her a place closer to him. 

In Makrygiannis, where he served, there was the headquarters and right next door, on Hatzichristou Street, there was a shop, a barbershop. At that time, there were many houses on Hatzichristou Street, which the state expropriated to build the Acropolis Museum. The hairdresser at Hatzichristou, named Theodosis, was a friend of your grandfather, but right across from our yard there was another hairdresser, whose owner was someone named Michaelides, I don't remember his name. Theodosis and Michaelides knew each other since they were colleagues. My father used to go to Michaelides and his barber knew that there was an empty room in our yard.

One day when my grandfather visited the hairdresser Theodosis, he said to him: “You know, I brought my sister from the village to get married, but I left her temporarily in Agia Paraskevi. Let me know if you find out about any available rooms.” The hairdresser said to him: “I don’t know about anything in Koukaki.” At that time, in Koukaki, in the area next to Makrygiannis, there were only single-family houses and the aristocracy. It was a much better area than Kolonaki.

As for Theodosis, he told your grandfather that he would look in Neos Kosmos to find a room. They didn’t have telephones back then, so he went to visit his friend at the hairdresser in Neos Kosmos to ask. In the neighborhood, there was only the phone number of the baker and the grocer. When we needed something, the grocer would send a kid and say: “Go to Mr. Giorgis’ house,” imagine how few of us were that everyone knew the houses! 

Theodosis went and told Michaelides that your grandfather was a friend of his and wanted to rent a room and the two of them went to find and ask the owner. My father was not the owner, he was the manager, but everyone saw him as the owner. “Okay,” said my father, “let this tenant come so we can see who he is.”

It was a Saturday afternoon. I had been going to school all this time, because even on Saturdays we had school. In that empty little room I had set up a small table to study in peace. There were six of us in our backyard room and the house was filled with things that belonged to my father who at the time made slippers himself at home. That Saturday, when I finished school and we had lunch, I put water to boil in a small pot and put my tub in that room to take a bath, as I did every Saturday.

I had just finished my bath and hadn't had a chance to empty the water yet, when a group of people arrived - Michaelides, Theodosis, a friend of Theodosis and your grandfather in his uniform, since at that time guards were not allowed to wear civilian clothes off duty. I had just come out of the bath and my hair was wet. It was long at the time and I had tied it up in a ponytail and I was wearing my black school apron. I had nothing else to wear, so after the bath I wore the same clothes. My father did the relevant checks and trusted your grandfather, because it never crossed his mind that I would get involved with him. He saw him as big, serious, as a grown man. He said to him: "Okay, I'll give you the room for your sister."

This room connected with the kitchen and my father said: “Sergeant,” I went out, “bring a chair for the gentleman.” Everyone else except my father was standing and the four of them were standing over my father, like Charos. There was also a window, half of them were sitting on the outside of the window and the other half on the inside. The second chair was needed for both parties to sit and sign the agreement.

I brought a chair from the room and said to him: “Sit down, sir,” and then he turned his head for the first time and looked at me. But I will never forget that look… When he turned to say “thank you” after I brought him the chair to sit down, he fixed me with his green eyes from top to bottom. What an impression I must have made on him! Okay, a woman, even a budding young lady, has the intuition to understand when someone is looking at her in what way.

(goes on)

photo by purpleivy, https://pixabay.com