“I do not want to talk about it or hear about it – it’s enough that we lived through it”
Testimony of Kyriaki Tsapas (Athens)
I was born in Sakalva, in 1900. My father was a priest. He was born there too, but his ancestors came from a village called Madeni. I did not go to school. I do not know a letter of the alphabet, nor even alpha. I worked in our fields.
In 1916 things worsened. The Turks became aggressive. At the start of the year 1916, they came and arrested the men. We had news of their coming, and my father was hiding in another village. We slept elsewhere too, but one night we decided, by whim, to stay at home! I will never forget it. My hair stands on end when I remember. The Turks started knocking on the door, almost breaking it down. My mother left through the back door. We children stayed with our grandmother. They came in and started beating us. “Where is your father, where is your mother?” They did not harm us in any other way, aside from the beating.
After a short time, we were exiled. First, we had to face the rain, and then the cold, the snow, the hunger, the nakedness. The children, the sick and the elderly were dying. I do not want to talk about it or hear about it—it’s enough that we lived through it. I lost my father, I lost my grandmother, I lost my mother, I lost my brothers.
We were no more than a month in the place they had taken us, and they told us, “You will go back.” How should we know whom to ask for the proper papers? We returned to Kerasounta. They arrested us and put us in jail. They gathered many of us and took us back to Tokat. […]
In Tokat, we earned a living doing errands. My sister had a friend, a girl whom a Turk forcibly took as his wife. She found a way and wrote to the Diocese. “This is what happened, and it was against my will. Send someone to get me.” She wrote that four other girls—me among them—were with her. So, they sent and took us all four.
From our village, only five people returned to their homeland. What do you know! A hundred and fifty-nine people went into exile, and three secretly left for Russia while in exile.
Nine of us returned to the village. Let me count them for you. 1. Kalliopi Moisoglou. 2. Sofia Xanthopoulou with her son. 3. Zografa Xanthopoulou with her daughter. 4. Simella Amanatidou. 5. Despoina’s daughter. 6. Kyriaki Tsapa. 7. Anthi Karakasidou. All in all, nine people. Of these nine people, Simella Amanatidou and Anthi Karakasidou went to Russia.
Kalliopi Moisoglou was killed in the village by the Turks. Poor woman! She had just returned from exile and went to her house. She found Turks inside. “Is this house yours or mine,” she asked. “You dare to come back, filthy infidel?” They tied her hands, tied her upside down on a horse and killed her. Once more, we learned about her death from some Turks. They also killed the priest’s wife, my mother. She was returning to the village with one of her children. They were both hungry. The child dared to reach for the cherries of a cherry tree. How fast did the children of the Turks gather in the place? They killed the child with stones. The mother was some distance ahead. She entered the village. She went to her home, found Turks in there, and begged for some bread. They hung her […] and then threw her body away. […]
So, the three other girls and I came to Kerasounta. We were orphans, so the orphanage commissioner took care of us, and they took us in and gave us work to do. I left and went back to the village, but I found all houses deserted and dark. I had no reason to stay. I went back to the orphanage and then they found a man for me to marry. […]
In that way, I was not in the village on the day of departure. We were all waiting for that day. Because, I must tell you, the Turk is good as long as he is not fanaticized. Even if he is your best friend, when they tell him, “in the name of Allah, go and kill Kiriaki Tsapa,” he will do it. But what about us? Christ does not want us to kill other people.
When they announced the Population Exchange, we were in such pain, we had gone through such suffering, that we were sure we would never laugh again. Things had calmed down, but we were never sure about the Turk. Now, we hoped to be saved. All came down from the village to Kerasounta. They gave us passports and we left. We were all together, mixed with others, helter-skelter. It was war, and whoever could was trying to save his or her life.
One here and another there, we disembarked in all kinds of places. We were taken to Corfu. They were planning to send us to the villages. I refused. “I do not have children,” I said. “Why should I go through more hardships?” So I came here. […]
They took us to Gazi, to the settlement. We took a room made of adobe, covered it with a tin roof and lived there. I and my husband worked on Giannakakis’s tobacco factory. I was breaking my back working, until a compatriot advised us, and we came here, in Ampelokipi. We took this plot, built these little rooms and we rent them and get a living.