KRITZALIA or GKRITZALIA
“The girl stood there, motionless”
Testimonial of Theodora Kondou
We went from the village down to Smyrna. We thought we’d be coming back. We went to rest a bit at the church of St. John. There were a lot of people there. An acquaintance of my father’s took us in. We stayed there. He took his family and left without saying a word; he snuck out. The Turks entered; they slaughtered our father, our mother, our uncle, our aunt and my three older siblings. Me and my younger sisters—one was two and a half and the other was three and a half—curled up under a little mezzanine and they didn’t spot us.
We stayed there for twelve full days, with no food or water. The house had some sort of sink, and water ran through it. What was I supposed to do? All I wanted was to wet my lips. I spread the hem of my skirt over it, held my nose and took a sip; it stank so much, I wanted to throw up.
One of my sisters had a bullet wound in her leg.
As the days went by, the corpses would swell up, get bloated and stank to high heaven. The Turkish women came in the house and were unable to go very far. They’d steal anything they could get their hands on: chickens, spoons, copperware and then they’d leave without seeing us.
At some point it was as though God spoke to me and I snuck outside. Then I saw a lot of people leaving, just packing up and leaving. I crossed myself, put my injured little sister on my back and took the other by the hand and got on the street. I was running to catch up to the others, the crowd. Then I saw a girl sitting on a pile of rocks. I gave her a yell; I just wanted someone to help me, to talk to me. That girl, not a thing; she just stood there, motionless. I didn’t pay much attention; I just kept talking to her. I could see her eyes bulging out but didn’t think anything of it; then I looked more closely. And what do I see? They had stuck a stake up her from behind and it was coming out of her mouth. That’s when I started running even faster. What was I to do with two babies? I got inside the church, but we reeked so much of rotten blood, the girl’s leg, our hair, our clothes, that they kicked us out of the church. What were we to do? We cuddled like puppies in a fireplace. It’s been all these years, but I never forget it. It’s as though I’m living it all again right now.
We wept, we mourned, we talked, and we talked about them again! My mother didn’t die right away like the others. Her guts were hanging from her belly, she was all covered in blood and she’d just counsel me, saying: “My child, when the going gets tough, throw yourself into the sea.” She put her hand in her pocket and gave me her purse and a photograph covered in blood; I still have it but can’t show it to you right now…
Finally, wherever the others went, I’d follow. We walked, and we walked, and we walked, until we entered the zone. The Turk wouldn’t let us through. If only you could see me then! So, I put my little sister in, and then I put the other. Then I got in the zone too and after a while we embarked on a ship and got off in Mytilene. They took us from there to Thessaloniki, and then to here. I had a cousin who was a good seamstress. I was put in a home; I was fourteen years old. My mistress knew Mrs Koundouriotis and arranged to have the two little ones placed in the Amalieion orphanage. One of them grew up to die when she was only twenty-two; the other one’s still alive. She’s married and lives in Nea Erythrea. I got married to a meek man of God, from our hometown, but had it very rough.