Zenovia’s secret (Consolidated text )

Posted by: Maria Atalanti

Published on: 25/03/2023

This novel is the product of fiction. None of the characters described are real.

(Chapter 1)

Melbourne – Australia, June 2019

Zena had just buried her father, Demetrios Vassilopoulos from Alexandria of Egypt. For the first time in her life, she had felt so much sadness. Her heart was uprooted.

She was sitting in her apartment in central Melbourne, staring at the panoramic view of the Yarra River. Tears were coming out of her eyes; she, who never remember having cried in her life. At least no one sees her, she thought ironically.

Her father had come to Melbourne in 1952 – 1953, when the ethnic revolution in Egypt, nationalized his cotton processing factory in Alexandria. He had inherited it from his father and he from his own father. It was his fate to lose it.

In Melbourne he worked hard, in whatever job he could find, but his own knowledge was limited to cotton processing. However, with his education and his experience in business, he soon became active in the construction sector, with great success.

The intense effort to build his professional career from scratch, did not leave him time to think about marriage. At the age of 46, in June 1978 he met her mother. She was called Jane; she was Australian and much younger than him. They lived together for some time and Jane became pregnant. She did not want to keep the child, but Demetrios was adamant. So, in January 1979 she was born. Her mother, Jane, disappeared soon after her birth and never appeared again. Demetrios called her Zenovia, as his grandmother was called, a dynamic woman, who had left behind many questions, as his own father used to say.

So, Demetrios undertook entirely her upbringing. He was a loving, affectionate father. Zena grew up happily with him, even without a mom.

She remembered, smiling bitterly, how much she was tormenting him when he tried to set some limits or impose a punishment on her. Not only did she escape him, in the end she did hers. But he always forgave her.

A typical example is when he tried for years to send her to the Greek school to learn Greek. Not only she did not want to go, not only she did not study, but she also refused to answer him in Greek when he was trying to speak to her in that language.

-Poor, sweet father, she thought. You had a daughter so untamed and uncompromising! Maybe this, I took after my mother!

Nevertheless, her father was the man of her life. She had reached the age of 40 and did not have a single serious relationship. She never understood if this was because she was attached to her father or because she found all the men she knew unimportant and insignificant. Maybe it was both.

She, professionally, would characterize herself as a free journalist. She wrote political articles, but mainly environmental, and sold them to various newspapers and magazines in Australia, but also in America. She had worked for National Geography for a short time, but her uncompromising character did not let her commit permanently somewhere. She had traveled to many parts of the world, mainly in Australia, America, and Asia. From her job she had a significant income that ensured her a comfortable life while she lived in Melbourne. Most of the time, however, she was on the road, looking for new issues and passionately supporting the rights of the planet itself.

Now she was sitting on the couch of her living room, with a box full of letters, at her feet. On the top was a black and white photo of a very young woman – she would not be over 18, and an elderly gentleman. One would think she was his daughter, but her dad had told her that it was her great-grandmother, Zenovia, and her great-grandfather Demetrios Vassilopoulos, a cotton merchant from Alexandria.

-The unfortunate little girl, Zena thought, she should be poor, to get married to the old man!

She looked more closely at the photo, looking into Zenovia’s inexpressible face to find a sign of her feelings, a message from the past. In an instant she was trapped by her eyes, large, almond-shaped eyes, with dense eyelashes. She was surprised to realize that they had the same eyes, although they did not look alike in anything else.

Zena was tall, hair brown to blond, with black eyes. This made an impression on those who meet her. Her eyes, her gaze in general, were unusually intense and piercing. One would expect that with such light hair and white skin her eyes would be green or blue, even brown. On the contrary, her black eyes and strong eyebrows captivated those who looked at her.

-Who knows, what strange combination of genes gave me these eyes, she thought. Surely great-grandmother Zenovia played her part!

She remembered her father’s last days at Royal Melbourne Hospital, when he struggled with cancer. She was trying to be with him all the time. First time they had spoken so much. He, in a situation between this life and eternity, was trying to draw from his memory and pass on, to his always indifferent daughter, the story of the family. He talked to her about Alexandria, this most ancient city on the shores of the Mediterranean, with its glorious history, about his father, Evangelos Vassilopoulos, his mother Antigone and about her great-grandmother, Zenovia. His parents had died in a car accident in Alexandria, in July 1950 and since then, he has basically been alone. He had devoted himself to his business until the ethnic revolution of 1952 in Egypt, which resulted in his factory having been nationalized by the State. Then he decided to leave for Australia and make a fresh start. Nothing kept him in Alexandria anymore.

For the first time Zena learned that her great-grandmother was from Cyprus. A beautiful island near Alexandria that had a strange history, with conquerors succeeding each other. The last invaders on the island were the Turks. This happened in 1974 and no solution has yet been found. The Cyprus problem was played for 45 years at the tables of international poker unsuccessfully, because it seems that the special interests of the big ones did not favor the solution or rather favored the preservation of the situation.

-I would be interested in exploring it from a journalistic point of view, she thought. After all, my great-grandmother came from there.

But the most important thing – and the most difficult for Zena – was when her father told her about the box with the letters, title deeds, photographs, and relics of the family. He asked her to read carefully all the letters and do everything she can to find her roots in Cyprus.

Zena was amazed.

-I imagine that everything will be written in Greek. I, as you know very well, do not speak Greek. Why didn’t you do it, Dad?

-I’ve never had enough time. I was working almost 18 hours a day and I had to spend time with you as well. You can afford not to work for a few months and search for the traces of Zenovia. And to prevent your thoughts, the letters must not be given to someone to translate them. You must learn Greek so that you can read them yourself. There are family matters and must be managed by the family. That is, you, he said with bitterness. There is no one else left.

Her father’s voice, so weak and broken, was stern and imposing. She did not react. She felt guilty for the first time for her indifference.

Zena, born in a multicultural country, never felt the need to search for her family’s past. The inhabitants of this country came from everywhere in the world and the only thing that separated them was their past. Together they could create a new culture and inspire it in the rest of the world. Why did they have to cling to the past? Why should they know a story or a language that would separate them? That was her own philosophy.

Then, the fact that she had never met her mother, and as much as she did not want to admit it, this was a big emptiness in her life, that limited her interest to the present. She did not want to know about the past.

But now, she was entangled in this situation and did not know how to get out of it. Despite the promise she had made to her father, she had not given up her thought of giving the letters to someone to translate them. She would be looking for a trustful person, after all.

On the other hand, she was obliged, anyway, to retire from work for a few months. With the death of her father, she would have to manage her financial and inheritance rights. Her father had assured her that his business was lucrative and that she would earn a significant amount of capital if she sold it. She knew that the State would get a respectable amount, but there would be enough profits left for her. These situations were complicated, required time and patience, and it would certainly have been better if she were in Melbourne, rather than travelling.

-Maybe, she thought, it’s an opportunity to review some things in my life. I am now 40 years old, and I could stop running. I may focus more on political reporting. I will also read about Cyprus because it seems that this case is interesting.

Tears began to come out from her eyes again. She could not restrain herself. Her father is gone! In fact, he was the only person she had in her life. She did not have close friends. Most of them were her professional associates that she did not have much to do with them. On the other hand, her relations with men were brief and superficial. She had never shared her heart with anyone. She was independent and felt self-sufficient. But was it so? There has been always her father. The rock in her life, the anchor of her ship. Now, he was gone…

She got up to prepare a tea. While drinking her tea she began to look at the photos that were inside the box. In addition to photographs of Zenobia, there were photographs of grandfather Evangelos’ and his wife Antigone. To her surprise, Evangelos was a very handsome man. Tall, blond, he did not look much like the Greeks she knew. Maybe she looked more like him. Her father looked like his mother, Antigone. Brunette, with Greek distribution. Her attention, however, remained in Zenovia. She looked at her and looked at her again. She was a very beautiful woman, with harmonious features and bright eyes. How did she get married to this old man? Strange.

She realized that inside the box, there were, in addition to the photographs, letters written in Greek, with two different graphic characters and some official documents, which would be title deeds. These were written in English. They referred to some lots of land in the province of Paphos in Cyprus. There were some other documents in Arabic. These should be from Alexandria, she assumed. She tried to sort them out and put the letters in chronological order. They were written between 1922 and 1930.

-Zenovia, it seems, would correspond with her son, she thought.

As she was looking at the photos thinking, she slept on the couch. Her sleep was restless. She saw Zenovia coming out of the photo and trying to push her back in the frame, with her. She resisted, while Evangelos laughed and told her not to worry. She woke up sweaty and suddenly exclaimed:

-I know what I’m going to do. I remember that in the gym I go, there is a Greek who everybody calls “teacher”. I ‘ve never paid attention to him, but I think he is a teacher of the Greek language. First, I will speak with him and then see how I proceed. If he seems reliable I will ask him to translate the letters. I will never be able to learn Greek. Sorry father!

With this thought she relaxed and went to lie down on her bed. She slept relatively calmly, but in the morning she woke up with a headache. She took two painkillers and set off for the gym. She remembered seeing the teacher, usually in the mornings, there. It seems he would work in the afternoons and evenings.

She began to exercise and look right and left, lest she spotted him. At first she did not see him anywhere, but when she was about to leave, he showed up. He stepped on a treadmill and began to exercise. Although she herself was exhausted by what she had already done, she went up the treadmill next to him and greeted him.

-Good morning. I am Zena Vassilopoulos, she told him. Are you a teacher of the Greek language?

He looked at her in amazement. Never had this impressive woman looked at him. What has changed now?

-Good morning, he told her. I am Alexis Ioannou. I didn’t know that you were of Greek origin. I understood it from your last name, he explained.

-Yes, I have Greek origin on my father’s side and that’s why I would like to talk to you, if you have time after you finish. Are you really a teacher of the Greek language?

-Yes, I am, he replied with a laugh. I can see you in an hour in the gym cafeteria. If you can wait, of course.

-I will wait, Zena replied and greeted him.

To pass the time, she entered the sauna. There she relaxed and tried to put the issues that preoccupied her in order.

-Handsome man, it was the first thought that came to her mind. I have never noticed him before! And charming! He has black eyes, black hair, harmonious features, a toned body. He’s perfect!

She got angry with herself and her thoughts. I have a different purpose now, she concluded. And she prepared the words she would like to say to him about the issues that concerned her.

In an hour they met in the cafeteria of the gym. She was shining after the sauna and he was cool, after the shower he had taken. Both looked fresh and beautiful.

They ordered a freshly squeezed juice and sat on a coffee table near the window.

-I am listening, Alexis told her.

Zena explained to him about the problem that concerned her and concluded:

-In a few words I would like you to translate the letters of my great-grandmother and her son to me – I think so at least, because as you understand I can’t learn Greek at this age. I will pay you what you think appropriate.

His response was succinct:

-I disagree. This is the address of the institute I work for. I give Greek language lessons to adults every Tuesday and Friday, at 8.00 in the evening. Please come to try. You owe it to your father.

And leaving Zena dumbfounded, he left. An anger was stirred up in her for his audacity.

-Who, after all, thinks he is? I did not ask for his opinion. I suggested him to do a job.

To her surprise, however, she had decided to go the next day to the address he had given her. It was obvious. Something had changed inside her.

(Chapter 2)

Alexandria 1900

Zenovia looked at herself in the mirror and was once more surprised by her image. She, Zenovia, who was born in Statos, Paphos, who grew up in poverty, with a mother who forced her to wear only black clothes to look like an old woman, lest men fall in love with her and “spoil” her, as she used to say, stood here, beautiful, with the most elegant clothes that existed.

-How extraordinary life is! She thought.

She remembered her life in the village. She was born in 1874 in Statos, Paphos. Her mother was called Eleni and her father Kostis. She spent her first years, as far as she could remember, in the mountains of Paphos grazing goats with her other friends. They were happy in those years. In 1885, at the age of eleven, her father died. The blackness of mourning that covered her mother and herself could not be described. Her mother was constantly lamenting, and that was justified. On the one hand poverty, on the other hand the lack of a protector to take care of them, seemed in her eyes like a future without hope.

The only close relative they had was her father’s brother Onoufrios who lived in Ktima, the largest city of Paphos. He was involved in trade and whenever he could, and this was not often, he would come to the village to see if they needed something to help them. Her mother placed all her hopes in him so that she could marry her only daughter as she was: without a dowry.

Growing up, Zenovia became beautiful. Her mother, instead of rejoicing, was terrified. A feeling of insecurity possessed her that someone would “spoil” her before the wedding. She forced her to wear black clothes and a scarf on her head so that her face would not be visible. On the other hand, she was pushing Onoufrios to find her husband as soon as Zenovia turned fifteen.

So Onoufrios took her to Ktima to stay a few days with him and his wife. They themselves had no children and it was their pleasure to have Zenovia. Her aunt, Elpiniki, made sure a nice dress was prepared for her, so that she would not be presented with the miserable clothes that her mother forced her to wear. There, she was also seen by Demetrios Vassilopoulos, a merchant from Alexandria, who had dealings with her uncle. He fell in love with her immediately and asked her uncle to marry her.

Demetrios Vassilopoulos was over fifty, while Zenovia was only fifteen. Despite his age, he was well-built and quite presentable. He was tall, with a fit body, gray hair, grey mustache, and brown eyes No matter how much Onoufrios tried to convince Zenovia and her mother that, in addition to being wealthy, he was also an extremely good person, both refused.

Her mother took Zenovia back to the village and make her ware her black clothes again. The events that followed, however, and their wretched poverty, forced Zenovia to accept, and in 1890 they got married and left for Alexandria. This wedding looked like a funeral for the mother and daughter.

Throughout the journey, Zenovia was crying. She did not know if she could ever see the mother and her village again. Demetrios was kind and loving with her and assured her that they would come and visit her mother and she could come and stay with them if she wished.

When they arrived in Alexandria and Zenobia saw their house, she was stunned. She had never seen anything more beautiful and bigger. It was a two-storey, stone-built house, with a garden, four bedrooms, two living rooms, a library, a dining room, a kitchen, toilets, warehouses, stables for the horses and rooms for the servants.

-It’s a palace, she thought.

But what impressed her the most was the love and kindness of her husband. Close to him she had begun to feel security, which slowly turned into gratitude, happiness and then into deep, constant love.

With the birth of their son in early 1891, her happiness was fulfilled. They named him Evangelos, at Zenovia’s wish. It was then that she realized that she was very uneducated and clumsy in relation to the aristocratic society of Alexandria, with which she interacted. So, she asked her husband to help her get educated, to learn how to dress and behave.

At that time, the Greek community, which numbered around 60,000 inhabitants, flourished in Alexandria. It was an organized community, holding the economy of the city in its hands. They had established banks, hospitals, schools, theatres, controlled industry, and commerce. The social gatherings of Alexandria had nothing to envy from those of the most important cities of Europe. An uneducated girl from the mountains of Paphos, did not fit in this environment.

Demetrios did not hesitate for a minute. He brought home the best teachers. Soon Zenovia learned to read and write, while at the same time she indulged in the world of fashion and savoir vivre of the time.

The unpolished village girl who grazed goats in the mountains of Paphos, became an elegant Alexandrian, worthy of her husband’s place in society. But what pleased Zenovia most of all, was when in the evenings they both sat in the living room and Demetrios talked to her about his day and the problems he faced. Through the conversation she always tried to help him make the right decisions. These hours, which brought them closer together, were for both the real happiness.

One such evening, Demetrios talked to her about his life. He was not always the wealthy Alexandrian businessman. In fact, he was not even an Alexandrian. He was born in Limassol, Cyprus, mid-1830s. He did not know exactly when. His parents had died when he was at a very young age, probably from malaria. The mistreatment he received from his relatives and his almost permanent hunger, forced him at the age of about ten to sneak into a ship that was in the harbor. This ship brought him to Alexandria. He did not know where he was, but he did not care. He was simply far from the crappy life he lived.

He initially managed to get a job for a Greek merchant, as the child for the errands. He slept on the floor of the shop and ate only the leftovers of his boss. That was his reward. Slowly, slowly, as he was carrying out the merchant’s orders, he met various Greek businessmen and accepted better offers. Everyone liked him because he was polite and hardworking. He learned on his own how to read and write, so as not to be disadvantaged compared to other children of his age. After passing by various bosses, he ended up at the age of 16 to ask for a job from the cotton merchant, Emilios Vassilopoulos.

The first question that Vassilopoulos asked him was:

-What is your name and surname?

-My name is Demetrios, I don’t have a surname, he replied.

-A child without a surname, anonymous in the crowd, Vassilopoulos commented philosophically. Your life has no value in this phony society my child.

-It has value for God, who brought me into the world, Demetrios courageously replied.

This phrase impressed Vassilopoulos, who not only hired Demetrius, but he also began to trust him for his personal matters. So little by little as the years went by, Demetrius entered deeper into the cotton business and in the end Vassilopoulos, who had no children, named him his heir, with the only condition to keep his name. Thus, the child from Limassol, without identity, inherited the glamour, the name, and the property of a merchant from Alexandria, originating from Constantinople.

At first when he took over the business on his own, things weren’t that good.

-I worked hard to bring it to where it is today, Demetrios added. And I am so glad that that I can shared it with you and our son. Since I did not get married while I was young, I was afraid at some point that Vassilopoulos’ fortune would be extinguished. But now, I have both a child and an excellent partner by my side!

He looked at her with adoration and took her hand to his. Zenovia felt a tear in her heart. How much she loved this man!

At home, Zenovia had servants and very little she needed to do herself, other than to run the household. This gave her time to read, to be very involved with her son and his education, and whenever she could she went to her husband’s business. Demetrios greatly appreciated this, although it was not a common occurrence in their time. He informed her about his transactions, he met her to his associates and soon Zenovia proved to be a very smart businesswoman. Her opinion mattered and Demetrios trusted her. He himself, even an experienced businessman, as a particularly good person, sometimes could not suspect the danger. Zenovia, however, taught by her mother that all people are potentially dangerous, was more careful and protected her husband from pitfalls.

She found the involvement with business interesting. It was a challenge that gave her the opportunity to develop skills she never knew she had. On the other hand, it helped her keep her thoughts away from her homeland and her mother. No matter how well she spent her life in Alexandria, nostalgia was a wound in her heart.

Demetrios, aware of this deprivation, he bought an area, just outside Ktima, overlooking the sea and had a house built there. Of course, it was not as luxurious as their home in Alexandria, but there they could spend their summers and Zenovia see her mother. Zenovia loved this house very much. The beautiful view it had and its size, which was to the extent that she knew, made her feel it more her own than the mansion in Alexandria.

In this way Zenovia and Evangelos spent all their summers in Paphos. When his work allowed it, Demetrios joint them.

During the cold months of winter, when there was snow in the mountains of Paphos, her mother came and stayed in the house in Ktima, where the climate was mild and sweet. She had brought with her some goats and hens and Evangelos enjoyed rural life when he came to Cyprus. At the same time, her mother cultivated various seasonal vegetables and had planted fruit trees, such as apple trees and fig trees. So, the house in Ktima had been transformed into a normal farm with all the good things for Zenovia and her son and at the same time it was the paradise of her once so destitute mother.

Ten years have passed since Zenobia had married Demetrios and left for Alexandria. Her life had changed drastically. She had never dreamed of such luck for her and her mother. She was only 26 years old and gorgeous. Her hair was brown and her eyes wide and black. Her skin, now that she lived in Alexandria, away from daily exposure to the sun, shone alabaster, with rose cheeks and red lips. She was aware of her beauty. She could see it in her mirror, but above all she could see it in the eyes of the men who were looking at her erotically. Some even had the audacity to flirt with her, believing that having an old husband she would be ready for adventures. Those she put angrily in their place. The education she had received and her affinity with the world and society had opened other horizons that she did not even know existed. Zenovia was happy. And she was complete.

Her involvement with her husband’s business was another chapter in her life, which like salt and pepper made her everyday life spicy. She found women’s gatherings and gossip meaningless and thought about how unfair it was for women not to work when they had that fluency. Oh yes, Zenovia did not want anything else in her life.

However, there was a thorn that preoccupied her and at times it tarnished this fullness that she was experiencing. Her husband showed great weakness to their son to the extent that he was not able to impose any discipline on him. Evangelos knew it and knew that when he wanted something extravagant, Dad was the right person to ask for it. Demetrios adored Evangelos and tried to offer him all that he never had in his childhood. This worried Zenovia, who grew up with an absurdly strict mother.

-Don’t worry, Demetrios told her. Love never harmed anyone.

The truth was that their Evangelos was a very handsome, intelligent, and capable boy. In his lessons he was very good and if he did not have so many demands and if he did not ask for so many favors from his father, Zenovia would have no complaints. But he grew up knowing that he might have whatever he asked for, and that was what worried Zenobia. The complete ignorance of the possibility of not satisfying all his desires, simply put him in a very fragile position. What if at some point he did not have the means, nor the favorable conditions to satisfy his desires?

Zenovia, unable to prevent her husband’s unstoppable offer to their son, at least tried to admonish him, talking to him about the lack of goods and poverty in the world.

-I know, Mom, he replied one day. Many times, I donate the gifts that dad buys me to the kids on the street, who have nothing. I’ve made a lot of friends like that. What should I make so many gifts for?

Zenovia was stunned. Maybe Demetrios is right, she thought. Maybe a lot of love doesn’t hurt anyone. But she was still careful and talking to her son. Life is not just about laughing and pleasure. It’s full of twists and turns. She knew this very well. And she wanted her son to be prepared for all eventualities in life. A life that no one knew how it will be developed.

Bibliography

(Chapter 3)

Melbourne – Australia, June 2019

The next day, Zena, at 7.45 in the evening, was outside the Institute where Alexis Ioannou was teaching. Even though she was concerned that she could not understand Greek at all, and how she would be able to follow the lesson in a class, that had been going on for a long time, she decided to enter.

She walked into the class, before Alexis came, and began to observe the other students. They were a total of ten at the time and they were talking to each other. The four seemed Greeks, three others of European origin and to her surprise they were three Asians. That made a big impression on her. All of them were adults, between twenty-five and forty years old.

-What Asians are doing in a class of Greek language? she thought.

Alexis joined along with two or three others, probably Greeks. As soon as he saw her he popped a bright smile and went to greet her. He took her hand and said to her:

-I’m so glad you came! Today we will study a poem by Elytis, one of the greatest Greek poets of the 20th century. He has also been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. Don’t worry if you don’t understand. It doesn’t matter. We can talk later, after class and see how I can help you reach the level of this class. I’m sure you’ll remember even those few Greek you learned from your father. It’s like someone who doesn’t know how to swim and is thrown into the deep. He will be forced to swim.

Then he introduced her to the other students. She was surprised to realize that one of the Asians was a professor of Chinese at the University of Melbourne and the rest quite educated people.

-What am I doing here! She thought.

Buts she decided to stay for the first lesson.

Alexis took a book, opened it on a page and gave it to her.

-Try to follow the text, even if you don’t understand he said. I’ll explain to you afterwards.

He sat down among his students and began to read:

Greek the language they gave me;

poor the house on Homer’s shores…

My only care my language

on Homer’s shores…

There breams and perches

wind beaten verbs,

green streams in azurre ones

what I saw in my inwards

sponges, jellyfishes,

with the first words of Sirenes

rosy oysters,

with the first black chills…

My only care my language,

with the first black chills…

There pomegranates, quinces

Dark haired Gods, uncles and cousins

emptying oil into the huge vessels

And breaths from the ravine

scenting wicker and lentisk

broom and ginger root,

with the first singing of finches

sweet psalmodies,

with the very first Glory to Thee…

My only care my language,

with the very first Glory to Thee!..

There laurels and palm leaves

censer and incense

blessing the swords and muskets

on the soil paved with vine leaves,

the smell of roasting lamb,

glass clinks and “Christ is risen”

with the first fireworks of the Greeks!

Secret loves,

with the first lyrics of the Hymn…

My only care my language,

With the first lyrics of the Hymn! *

Of course, she did not understand a word. Only the phrase ” Greek the language they gave me” had any meaning for her. She felt a lot of discomfort. She wanted to leave. But for the first time in her life, she was embarrassed to do so. Her classmates commented in Greek on the poem, as much as they could, and then she realized that they did not speak Greek very well either.

When the time passed and the lesson was over, Zena did not leave to talk to Alexis. He was conversing with some other students, so she proceeded to the Chinese professor and asked him how he decided to attend Greek language courses. Why?

-Because Greek, along with Chinese and a few other languages in the world, are the first languages and the oldest cells of civilization, he replied. Do not forget that the fathers of our philosophies, Confucius and Socrates lived around the same time and taught similar things in a different way.

Zena thanked him puzzled.

-Is there any other culture than the one I knew so far? She thought. Has my obsession with dealing only with the present, distance me from other interesting topics?

-What are you thinking and you’re so troubled? Alexis teased her. Come, let’s go and have a coffee and talk about the lesson.

Soon they both sat in a café, sipping hot chocolate, since in the southern hemisphere it was winter, Alexis asked her how she felt today in class.

-How do you want me to feel? Zena wondered. I didn’t understand a word. The only phrase I understood was: The Language Given to me was Greek… If I wasn’t embarrassed I would have left.

-That’s all I’d like you to understand. It is a phrase spoken by a very great poet, wanting to declare the greatness of his language. Then, in simple words, he describes the poor country of Greece, its antiquity through the reference to Homer, erotic love, without even mentioning it, simply with the sound of words, the Greek landscape, the struggles for the freedom and the religion of the Greeks, Christianity. You don’t have to understand more now. What I would like from you is just to study the lyrics: Greek the language they gave me; poor the house on Homer’s shores…. You can find the online translation for the whole poem, but it doesn’t matter. It is important to understand these two verses and read about Homer as well. We will study more the poem in the next lesson.

-It seems strange to me that I am sitting here with you and having this conversation. My own philosophy, so far, is that everything that has to do with languages, history, and religions, etc., divides people and causes hostility and wars. Now, in the 21st century we live in, our concern must be our planet to have something to bequeath to the next generation. In the way we act, we will destroy the land that gave birth to us.

-I agree with you completely. But the study of languages, especially ancient languages, brings us into contact with the structural components of our culture. It helps us to understand who we are and having this knowledge to be able to correct the mistakes of the past. It is not history and religions that cause wars. It is their exploitation by the skillful megalomaniacs of all times, who seduce the crowds with big words and pompous expressions, as, we fight for our country or our religion and become heroes – a very popular argument to convince people to kill each other, while they are left untouched. But let’s leave that. It is a big issue that we cannot solve. What we can do is educate ourselves. Education broadens the horizons of a person, helps them to see behind the pompous words and gives them discernment. And to somehow discharge the atmosphere, I am asking you: do you know what your name means: Zenovia?

-You find me completely unprepared. I’ve never thought about it. It’s just a name. I imagine there would have been some great person with that name and people continued it to honor her.

-You’re right about that. Zenovia was the queen of Palmyra, an ancient city in Syria. There was also a saint with this name, but the origin of the name did not start from them. It existed. Your name is ancient Greek and is a word composition. The first synthetic comes from “Zeus”, which is the name of the Father of gods and humans, according to the ancient Greek mythology. It is an ancient Indo-European name, and a relative root exists in many ancient languages. It was originally related to heaven and light. Inclined this name, it changes completely and becomes: Dios. This perhaps correlates it with the Latin “dies”, which means day. The second synthetic is the word “vios”, i.e., life. In short, your name means the life of the one who dominates the sky and the light. And seeing how much fire you have inside you, it suits you perfectly!

Zena did not know what to say. This was a new world for her.

-You managed to impress me! I admit it. And your own name? Alexis. Does it mean anything?

-Of course. Initially, it is nickname for the Alexander. And that’s a word composition. It consists of the dictionary prefix “alexi”, which means to repel and protect, and the word “anir” which means man. In short, he is the one who protects men. It is an ancient Greek name with Mycenaean origin. And of course, it is the name of the great general Alexander. Do you know about Alexander the Great?

Zena laughed.

-Your name suits you, too! You have the power of protection within you. Even me, you make feel safe. I know, in fact I have heard of this great general, but as I told you I am not interested in wars. Neither those which are won, nor those which were perished.

Looking at her watch she added:

-It’s too late. I must go. I’ve enjoyed our conversation very much! But one more thing: Does the name Demetrios mean something?

-The original name was Demetra, i.e., the female of Demetrios. Demetra was the goddess of agriculture and in her, our ancient ancestors, saw the cycles of the seasons. It is also a word composition and has as a second synthetic the word metir (mother) and as the first synthetic the word Da (Earth). In a few words, the name Demetra means mother earth.

-I am speechless. Demetrios was my father’s name and he raised me with so much affection and care! For me he was mother earth. How much it all fits in! But I must leave. Good evening Alexis.

-Good evening. Will you come for the next lesson?

-Of course, I will come. I want to explore the world of the Greek language! It’s very interesting.

Arriving at her apartment, Zenobia felt light and alive. A new horizon had opened in front of her.

-Ah father, even after death you guide me! She said aloud. And what a man this Alexis is! Too interesting guy. Let’s see where this trip will take me.

She sat down on her computer and began to read her messages. The one that caught her attention was one of her father’s lawyer. He advised her to start the process for the sale of the company “Dem. Vas. Construction Co.” and suggested to her several ways to do so to have the greatest benefit.

She did not hesitate at all. In her mind it was clear what should be done. She wrote:

Dear John

Thank you for your advice and I am sure that all you have in mind is my well-understood interest. My father always told me to trust you because you are an honest lawyer and a good man.

My instructions to you are the ones below. I know you probably don’t agree with me, but that was my father’s wish and mine:

You will start negotiating with my father’s associates and key executives of his company, Mr. Nick Georgiou, and Mr. Jacob Papadopoulos. These people have worked hard for the company for many years and supported my father when he was sick and could not perform. They deserve to be the ones who will manage the company in the future.

At first you will approach them, and you will see if they are interested, them or their children. We will be flexible with the price and the ways of repayment. They certainly do not have much capital to make available. You, I am sure, know how to do the negotiation. The only condition I am putting in place is to keep the company under the name given to it by my father, until it is dissolved.

I will always be here and discuss with you whatever comes up. For some time, I will not travel, I will remain in Melbourne, to settle various family matters.

My decision is final and there is no point to try to dissuade me.

Thank you for always being a good friend for my father and for me.

Greetings

Zena

She looked at the message for a few seconds, made sure she wrote what she wanted to say, and pressed SEND.

She got up and walked into the bathroom. After taking a hot shower she prepared a cup of tea and sat in her favorite armchair, looking at the River Yarra. She could see the lights of the cars that were moving and the colorful lighting from the buildings that were reflected in the river. She loved this city! This was her town; this was her homeland. Why should she add to her life names like Alexandria and Cyprus?

-It’s too late, she thought. That box of letters and photographs, her father’s wish, but above all Zenovia’s eyes had put her on the road. The journey had begun.

When she lay down to sleep, two phrases, she had heard today, sounded in her mind:

… but Greek along with Chinese and some other languages in the world, are the first languages and the oldest cells of civilization,

… the study of languages, especially ancient languages, brings us into contact with the structural components of our culture.

-“Ancient civilization cells”, “structural components of civilization”, she whispered. A new world for me. I will explore it.

And she slept as those phrases sounded in her mind.

* Translation in English

Bibliography

Babiniotis Dictionary of the Modern Greek Language

(Chapter 4)

Alexandria 1905

Fifteen years had passed from the time Zenovia went to Alexandria. She had joined society for good and had met all the important Greek merchants who worked with her husband. One family with which they had frequent contact, was the Benaki family. People very rich with aristocratic origins and strict principles. Zenovia, despite the huge leap forward she had made in her education and cultivation, knew that she could not reach the members of the Benaki family. These were highly sophisticated individuals, associated to music, poetry, literature, could talk about any subject and their point of view was important. So, she was careful in her conversations with them so as not to seem ignorant or misinformed.

In 1905, the middle daughter of the family, Penelope, returned to Alexandria. She had married in Athens in 1895 the wealthy Phanariotes merchant Stefanos Delta. Together they had three daughters, Sophia, Virginia, and Alexandra. They were the perfect couple, according to the social norms of the time.

Zenovia and Penelope were of the same age. They were both born in 1874. The first in a mountainous village of Paphos and the second one in a rich house of Alexandria. The first did not receive any education in her childhood and the second had received, at home, the best education that existed in her time. They both grew up with strict principles, to the standards of the societies they had lived in.

Their first meeting took place at the Benaki’s house, in an event organized for the return of Penelope and her family to Alexandria. In an environment, where everyone was talking and no one was listening to what the other was saying, the recommendations were made, and a spontaneous sympathy was born between the two women. Zenovia invited her to her house and Penelope did not refuse.

Thus, a friendship began between them, from those that are rarely created. Zenovia saw in her an extremely refined woman, full of sensitivity and richness of spirit, while Penelope saw in Zenovia an authentic, unpretentious, and dynamic woman.

Soon, Penelope’s return took an unexpected turn. Alexandria’s society began to buzz with gossip. Penelope had fallen in love with the Vice Consul of Greece in Alexandria, Ion Dragoumis! Benaki’s daughter, a married woman with three daughters, in love with a flirtatious young man. Scandal! Disgrace!

Ion Dragoumis was the son of the politician and Prime Minister Stefanos Dragoumis. He was a deeply politicized person and together with his father and son-in-law Pavlos Melas organized the Greek Orthodox communities against the Bulgarians, contributing to the Macedonian Struggle. He was also a poet and a writer.

The meeting was fatal for both. She fell madly in love with him, and he surrendered to the charm of this, so beautiful and cultured woman. Penelope was desperately divided. Her love gave her wings and energy and her place in society kept her tied to the earth. Because of her honesty and the principles with which she grew up, she confessed her love for Ion to her husband in the hope that he would free her from their marriage. But that did not happen, and she kept being trapped in an unresolved dilemma.

Zenovia heart anxiously the gossip about her friend, without ever taking part. One day when they were alone, she spoke to her:

-You know very well that the society of Alexandria is buzzing about your relationship with Ion Dragoumis. I am not concerned about all this, and I don’t care. But if you want to talk to me and open your heart, I will always be here to listen to you, without judging you.

-My good friend, it’s not easy to talk to. But I know the purity of your heart and your confidentiality. And I need to talk about it. I have always had a conventional marriage with a man who was approved by my family and fulfilled the conditions of society for my class and origin. I can’t say that I didn’t love him in the past or not loving him now, but what happened to me when I met Ion was something that I didn’t know a person could feel.

-I thought that love is the relationship that a married couple has with each other. I had never fallen in love before. The magnetic force that drew me close to Ion, started from deep inside me and extended to every pore of the body, to every hair of my head. This man represents for me the food that pervades the cells of my body and the water of my spirit. I wanted and I want to be with him all the time, to talk to him, to listen to his voice, to learn his thoughts and to share my own with him.

-But I am tied with chains called marriage, called children, called origin, called Benaki family. My father has become furious, with the gossip that circulates. I did not try to mislead him, nor do I have the power to abandon Ion. My life is a vicious circle. It’s the most powerful and the most magical thing that has ever happened to me.

-Despite the longing of my soul, I have so far respected my marriage. Our relationship is platonic, but I don’t know how long this can last. I am afraid that this dilemma, this disease, will shatter my existence. But I’m happy it happened to me. I would have spent my life without getting to know erotic love. And erotic love is perhaps the ultimate emotion that a person can feel.

Zenovia remained silent for a while. She did not know if there were any words that could rest her friend.

-I have no intention of judging you, nor of admonishing you. I recognize the fire that burns your soul and I can see your face lit by its flames; My dear friend, with all the privileges that life gave you, beauty, riches, intelligence, education, an excellent family, you chose the fire of love, which can destroy you. My own life is exactly the opposite. I live happiness in a marriage that began without love, but was built on love, giving, and understanding. Perhaps this is a safer recipe for happiness. But it certainly doesn’t catapult you into heaven. Still, you could be right. In this short life we live in, it is worthwhile to experience the ultimate, even if we risk setting ourselves on fire. I, probably, would n’ t chosen it. But I don’t reject your choices. And above all, I do not dispute the fact that it is the fate of person to fall into the traps set by the gods during one’s life.

-Sometimes you don’t choose. You follow. She continued thoughtful.

On that day Penelope may not have left vindicated, but perhaps relieved. She spoke to someone who did not judge her, to someone who may not have agreed, but she understood. That was very important to her.

Zenovia was constantly thinking about her friend and her dilemma. She could not decide what was the right thing to do. And maybe there was no right or wrong. The course of life would shape the future. And she knew that very well herself. Deep down she knew that the future consolidates and shapes the present. What today is incomprehensible, tomorrow it will make sense in the order that governs the universe.

But her concern was not only that. Now Zenobia was 31 years old, and her husband was around 70. His health was no longer so good, and he easily got tired. They had visited the best doctors that Alexandria had at the time, and they all prescribed: rest and healthy diet. Zenobia did everything to help him. She would go to work with him every day, make sure he was healthy eating and was rested as much as he could.

Demetrios was overwhelmed with the care of his young wife. He often teared up when he thought about how much he owed her.

-It’s me who owes you to you she told him. You gave meaning to my life and filled the absolute void with interesting action.

One day Demetrios asked her to sit down because he wanted to speak to her seriously.

-Please, he told her when he started talking, don’t interrupt me until I’m done. I want you to listen carefully to what I am going to tell you. When I decided to marry you, everyone was telling me that it was nonsense to take a girl for a wife, at my own age. Deep down I understood that they were right, but I had already fallen in love with you and when you finally accepted, nothing could stop me from taking you for my wife. With such a young wife I expected many joys in my life, but I’ve never imagined that this girl could stand up to me like a mother.

-When I talked to you about my childhood, I didn’t analyze much the issue of deprivation that I always carry, for the fact that I didn’t have a mother to take care of me. This lack is perhaps my biggest complaint in life. And you, such a young woman, you give me what I was deprived of, so generously, that not even my own mother could give me. I can’t describe my emotion and gratitude for that.

-Zenobia started to say something here, but Demetrius stopped her.

-Please don’t interrupt me. Listen to the end of what I’m trying to tell you. Although no one knows God’s thoughts, chances are that in a few years I will die. When this happens, I want you to know that it is my desire to marry a younger husband so that you can live your life as you deserve. I will transfer all my assets to you, so that you are rich and independent and can make your choices, without restrictions; You already know very well how to run our business. I believe that you will be the best guardian for our son, and you will direct him correctly, as you have done so far.

Zenovia was upset by this conversation. She did not even want to hear what Demetrios was saying. She really loved him and the prospect that she would lose him terrified her. However, she controlled herself and replied:

-You talk about your approaching death as if it is at the next turn of the road. I do not accept that! I will do everything in my power for you to live many more years. Since you are referring to it, however, I would like to clarify a few things for you. If for you I am a mother, for me you have been a father, the best, the most affectionate, loving father that has ever existed. You don’t owe me anything. I owe you everything.

-Although I would not like to discuss the macabre issue of a possible death of yours, it is nevertheless important to clarify this to you: if you pass away, Demetrios,, I will also leave Alexandria. My life is in Cyprus. You may transmit the house and factory to our son. I will go to live at our home in Ktima. This house is the most precious thing you have given me so far. I am happier to milk the goats than to live in luxury and take part in glamorous dinners. With you, all this makes sense. Without you it doesn’t. So, take these thoughts out of your mind. Your property belongs to our son.

The whole conversation brought tears to the eyes of both. But deep down they knew that all this was an imminent possibility. Zenovia got upset, but Demetrios began to think. He took his wife’s words very seriously. He had to find a way to secure her financially, wherever she wanted to live. Nothing would be left to chance. Her desire to spend the rest of her life in Cyprus complicated things somehow, but he would find a solution.

The next morning, he visited his friend, the banker, Antonios Papadopoulos. He asked him if there were banks in Cyprus and if there was a way to deposit an amount in his wife’s name. His friend promised him that he would investigate the matter and inform him. Demetrios left relieved.

Zenovia, after that day, took more care of Demetrios. The thought of losing him terrified her. She would never have expected that a relationship so important to her, would be born from a marriage, which she was forced to have. Although Evangelos had not yet turned fifteen, she would take him with her to the factory, whenever he had no school. He had, as well, to start being trained in the secrets of the job.

The involvement with the company did not particularly excite Evangelos. He was a very handsome teenager, tall, blond, who preferred to go out with his friends instead of learning about the cotton trade. But here Zenovia was adamant. No one could soften her. Neither Demetrios, nor Evangelos. The child needs to learn the basics of the job, now. And so Evangelos, despite his protests, had begun to receive his first lessons in the complex world of the commerce.

No matter how much Zenovia was concerned about organizing her own life, she did not forget her friend and the drama she was experiencing. In the evenings, when she lay down to sleep, she tried to imagine Penelope and her feelings. She did not know how, but she found, in a way, that her friend’s life looked like an ancient tragedy she once attended to. They had gone with Demetrios to one of the theaters to see a performance presented by a troupe that came from Greece.

Oedipus Tyrant was called. It was the most shocking thing she had seen or heard in her life: The son who killed his father and got married to his mother, not knowing who they were. That is how the gods wanted it. They led his footsteps and created the circumstances of life for him to unknowingly commit these crimes. Her friend, the so moral and honest Penelope, was caught in this net and did not have the strength to take a decision. And any decision was fundamentally damning.

-Do we choose in our lives, she wondered?

She thought of her own life. Who could have ever imagined that she would take such ways when she was a little girl in the mountains of Paphos? And who still knows where she will be led?

She shuddered. It is so irresponsible to judge each other when no one knows which is the next crossroads they will encounter and how fate will be waiting for them there.

She sent all her love to Penelope and fell asleep. Tomorrow would dawn a new day. And she had to be strong.

Bibliography:

Penelope Delta

Ion Dragoumis

(Chapter 5)

Melbourne – Australia, November – December 2019

Five months have passed since the death of Zena’s father. Her life had changed drastically since then. Her acquaintance with Alexis and the lessons of Greek had added another dimension to her world. This had brought diversity to her daily life and made her realize that there are unexplored worlds waiting to be discovered.

Since she had stopped traveling abroad, she had time to study the Greek language. Beginning in this not-so-conventional way, the study of a difficult poem, she had a challenge that suited her temperament. It was much more interesting to approach the language like this, compared to the method they used in the Greek school, when she was a child.

She used to read the words loudly and tried first to pronounce them correctly and then to enjoy their sound. At first it was very difficult, but little by little she began to enjoy it. Then she translated each word to understand the meaning – that’s where Alexis helped her in – and in the end she felt that she possessed the message that the poem or text wanted to express. The most difficult thing of all was to try to speak in Greek herself. She did not dare to do that.

The method she followed, and the research she did for every word, introduced her, in addition to understanding the language, into the world of history and Greek culture. The whole process was an additional challenge, which did not leave her indifferent. She studied with interest and passion the subject she had a complete denial of, a few months ago.

Alexis had played an important role in the whole effort. After class they often went out to dinner or even to gatherings of the Greeks in Melbourne, where they listened to Greek music, poetry, and even lectures. In a city where more than 110,000 Greek-speaking people live, which according to some is after Thessaloniki the city with the largest number of Greek inhabitants, Zena met her father’s compatriots. She found this meeting interesting and with the encouragement of Alexis began to make friends.

She often took the letters that were in the box left to her by her father and tried to read them. She still found it difficult. She did not want to give them to Alexis. She wanted to do it by herself. Apart from her initial impression that the letters were only between her grandfather Evangelos and her great-grandmother Zenovia, she had realized that there was also a letter to her, written by her father. She would definitely read this first once she would be able to do so.

In the months that passed she was exclusively engaged in the study of the Greek language, her outings with Alexis and some contacts with her lawyer on the issue of the sale of her father’s company. For the first time she stayed so long away from her job. But she felt that from this change she would come out stronger and with wider horizons.

What troubled her was Alexis’ attitude towards her. He was friendly and discreet. Even though she saw in some moments something erotic in his gaze, he never made a more daring move. She, who was used to ephemeral relationships, which began easily and ended painlessly, felt uncertain about this attitude.

Once, when she asked him about his love life, about his relationships, he replied generally and vaguely, clarifying, however, that he was not interested in ephemeral love affairs. As strange as this may seem to her, somewhere inside she felt respect for this man, who cared more about her spirit, rather than her body. It was a noticeable change in her life.

But nothing stands still. The winds, which begin to blow from other dimensions, intruding into the material world and dragging in their path the order and harmony that we think we have built around us, turned life in Australia upside down and shook Zena’s pleasant living.

The seasonal fires that burn in Australia every year, this year took on uncontrollable proportions and proceeded, destroying everything in their path. The fire brigade forces could not intercept them, and the ecological disaster was enormous. Forests, dwellings, fauna, and flora were lost at breakneck speed, while the sky was filled with toxic gases.

In the face of such an event Zena could not remain indifferent. She left the study of the Greek language and her relaxed daily life and left for the places where the battles with the fires were taking place. She initially joined forces with the volunteers who were fighting to save the animals, especially the koalas, and fought with them. But she soon realized that her own role could have been more meaningful and interventional.

She began writing articles and sending them to various newspapers, magazines and websites in Australia, the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and wherever the readership was English-speaking. Through an extremely vivid writing, she presented to the reader the battles that were taking place with the flames, the agonizing effort of the volunteers to save wildlife, but above all their self-sacrifice.

She gave to the word “heroism” another dimension and separated the role of volunteers from the term as it is commonly used: “heroes, she wrote, are not the ones who are mandated to kill or be killed for a controversial idea. Heroes are those who voluntarily abandon their daily lives and fight to save life and nature, anonymous, without any benefit, for a universal cause. That’s what heroism means.”

Her articles awakened in the readers feelings of solidarity and brought to the surface the sleeping instincts of generosity that every person possesses. Many donations arrived in Australia from all over the world, thanks to Zena’s writings. Some people also came as volunteers.

Zena had been carried away by the fever of this need and this purpose and had almost forgotten about Alexis. They only exchanged some scattered messages. But she herself was identified with the work she was doing. Growing up in a multicultural society, her ideals were universal and the love for our planet and nature was the driving force for her actions.

However, in mid-December she was forced to return to Melbourne because her lawyer had reached an agreement to sell her father’s company to his associates Nick Georgiou and Jacob Papadopoulos. The deal was not exactly what her lawyer would have wanted, but Zena was completely satisfied. The company would stay with people who cared about it and that was what mattered to her. She was sure that her father would be happy.

On December 19, 2019, at 11 a.m., everyone met at her lawyer’s office in central Melbourne. Messrs. Nick Georgiou and Jacob Papadopoulos, dressed in their suits and with their faces all a smile, could not hide their joy at the deal. They both embraced Zena with fervor and did not know how to thank her. They knew very well that the company could be sold much more expensively on the free market, and they recognized the generosity of the daughter of their former boss.

-Don’t think that I don’t recognize the power that money has, Zena told them. It may not bring happiness, but it can bear some of the burdens of misery. However, my father and I have always believed in the success that the creative power of people, who care about a business, can bring. This company encompasses all the work of my father, since he arrived in this country. And you both helped him with that. It is worth the company to become yours. I hope you continue to love it and work together in the future for the good of the company and for a rich future for your children.

On behalf of both, Nick Georgiou spoke:

-We really thank you for this attitude and we assure you that we will continue with the company as we worked when your father had been alive and even with more enthusiasm, since it will be ours! As you probably know, our parents came to Australia, refugees from Cyprus after the Turkish invasion of 1974. They started working in your father’s business as simple builders and later we were employed here. So, we care about this business because it supported our parents in a foreign country and contributed to our own education. Be sure that your father’s name will be preserved as long as this business is in our hands.

-It is with this conviction that I hand over to you the work of my father and I am sure that you will be able to take the company even further. You don’t have to thank me. I am simply responding to my father’s wish, but also to my own view of life.

Jacob Papadopoulos looked at her smiling, took her hand in his hands and without further ado invited her:

-Our dear Zena it would be a great pleasure for both of us, but also for our families, if you come to our house at Christmas to celebrate together. We will all meet in my own house, and we will have a Cypriot feast.

Zena’s first reaction was to find an excuse to refuse. She had never agreed to attend such gatherings, but something told her that it would be very rude. So, she replied:

-Thank you very much for the invitation. I’ll try to be there. Could I bring a friend with me?

-Bring as many friends as you like. Everyone is welcome. I will send you the address by message.

After leaving, Zena felt light and happy. Much happier than she would have expected herself to be. It was not just this job had ended. It was a job that had ended well. So well that it would make her father happy.

She was surprised at this metaphysical disposition she acquired after the death of her father. She was talking to him, she felt like he was alive, and she was trying to please him.

-These are not for me, she whispered to herself. What has happened to me lately, I do not understand!

Then she remembered the Christmas party. She should not have accepted, but how could she tell them? Luckily she thought about asking to bring a friend. She would talk to Alexis.

-And I hope Alexis doesn’t have other plans, she said loudly.

In the evening she called Alexis. He was very happy to hear her after so long. They talked about the work she had done for the fires, about some downturn they got lately after some heavy rains, and in the end Zena told him about the invitation.

At first it seemed that he had arranged something else, but he was willing to change his plans to be with her. Zena felt very flattered. He would take her in his car, around 12 noon on Christmas Day.

Fortunately, she thought about it and texted Mr. Jacob Papadopoulos to let her know how many children both families had together. In fact, how many grandchildren, because the children of the new owners of the company had grown up. So, she bought gifts for everyone, wore a very elegant blue dress, and waited for Alexis.

When he arrived, Zena appeared with a bunch of packages, which took them some time to sort out. As soon as they were finished Alexis took her in his arms and Zena expected them to give the kiss of Christmas wishes. But he gave her a passionate love kiss and said to her:

-You can’t imagine how much I have missed you!

Zena, although waiting for this kiss for months now, was so surprised that she could not speak.

-Why now, she whispered at some point. For so many months you have been aloof and indifferent. A completely different person from the men I had met in my life.

-Because of that, he replied. I’ll tell you a few things about me so you can understand. But this time I have missed you so much, that I couldn’t hold back myself any longer.

-My parents are from Cyprus. Specifically, from a village of Messaoria called Marathovounos. In August 1974 the Turkish troops occupied my village and my parents left only with the clothes they were wearing. I was only a few months old at the time. You can’t imagine how difficult it was for a young couple to be with nothing, with a baby in their arms. After staying some time in a tent, in a camp in the free part of Cyprus, they decided to leave for Australia.

-They stayed in Melbourne until 1989. I was then 15 years old then. I had grown up here, I considered Australia my homeland, but they wanted to go back. At first things were very difficult. We all had to adapt again to the new homeland: Cyprus. For them it was easier. Hard for me. At school I almost didn’t understand anything. But I was lucky enough to have an excellent Greek language teacher who helped me a lot. She made me love the Greek language. Because of her, I studied at the Department of Classical Studies and Philosophy of the newly established University of Cyprus. As soon as I finished I wanted to come back.

-You see, when I was at school I had met an Australian, Helen, was her name, and I wanted to find her again. We were constantly writing, but my desire was to see her. At the begging, we stayed together, and everything was fine. But then she left. She wanted to get to know the world, she told me. I suffered a lot. You see it was my first love. Then I was very wary of women and especially those I really liked. I also lived in ephemeral relationships, so much so as not to commit myself and not suffer.

-At the University of Melbourne I had, in the meantime, studied in a field on how to teach a foreign language to adults and so I began to teach the Greek language as you have met me.

-I had noticed you from the first moment I saw you in the gym. But you didn’t even look at me. You were the successful, independent Australian, without inhibitions and commitments. I wasn’t looking for that. When you spoke to me, I must admit it, I did my best to keep you close to me and get to know you. That’s why I asked you to come to my class. And luckily you came!

-You scared me that day. But you magnetized me at the same time. You have a charm Alexis; I must acknowledge that. And I did not regret it. I have been waiting for this kiss for a long time, she said with a laugh. And much more… But you? A rock!

-Zena, I have fallen in love with you! I wouldn’t want to start a relationship with an expiration date.

-I’ve never committed myself. But you are different. All my relationships were ephemeral. I wouldn’t want one similar, either. All this has left me a void. And since my father has died, everything around me has acquired another substance. I’m ready to start something serious if you’re ready for it too.

-I have fallen for you!

In the meantime, they had arrived in the area, Balwyn North, outside Melbourne which was the address given to them by Jacob Papadopoulos. Following the instructions of the GPS, they arrived outside the house. Before they came out of the car, they squeezed each other’s hand and looked into each other’s the eyes. In this way, they made a deep promise.

They took all the gifts and got out of the car. Both families were waiting for them cheerfully and excitedly. They were in the garden, baking barbeque. A Cypriot Christmas custom! The children were diving in the pool and Greek music was heard.

-Welcome to our home, my daughter, an old lady told her and kissed her. God bless you.

And for the first time in her life, Zena shuddered with emotion and happiness.

-Father, she thought. Thank you!

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