tubs in my home in the winter. I eat a fresh Meyer’s lemon with the pulp and the peel daily, remembering my dad.
Since I came to America in early May of 1962, I was bringing gifts from the Greek Easter we had just celebrated in Greece. From my father, hard boiled eggs painted with beautiful flowers and his double lemons off his trees. They were long like double yolk eggs. I still do not know how he was able to accomplish this.
Do you wonder who you look like?
CHAPTER 4
THE ROUSSOS STORY
This story deals with my mother’s side of the family. It was around 1850. A young Russian couple on a Sunday afternoon took their three children on an outing to the harbor, on the Black Sea.
The merchant ships would dock there to unload their wares. They would come from Greece loaded full of olive oil, olives, cheeses, citrus fruits, grapes, raisins and wines, mostly food provisions. They would unload there and pick up what the Greeks needed when they left.
On this sunny day the public was invited to board the ship and check it out. A lot of people took the opportunity to see something different. Amongst all those curiosity seekers was also the young Russian couple with their three children.
They boarded the ship. They enjoyed themselves on the ship, checking it out curiously. Many hours later, time came, to get off the ship.
The couple could not find one of their children, the oldest one, Niko. He was 5 years old. Everyone searched for the boy for many hours and he was not to be found. The saddened couple was heartbroken and finally was escorted off the ship with their two children. Over one hundred years ago they had no support services we have today.
The next day the ship got loaded up again and took to the sea. While at sea, little Niko became famished and followed his nose to the kitchen.
He had hidden between the merchandise crates and barrels, as if he was playing a game with some other children. All those hours he was waiting to be found.
The captain of the ship had no children so when they reached the shores of Greece he took Niko to his home and to his wife. Niko became their son.
His name was Niko Roussos because he came from Russia. Niko was my grandfather from my mother’s side. He grew up and went into the shipping business like his father, the captain. Niko Roussos married my mother’s mother, my grandmother Zafiro, I have never met. I had heard so much about this incredible woman’s strength but she died many years before I was even born.
Niko and Zafiro lived in Constantinople, between Greece and the Black Sea. They had a good, comfortable life and they were blessed with eight healthy children. People had many children back then. This couple could also afford them. Their names were: Manoli (Emmanuel), Paraskevi (Friday), Efrossini, Fotini, George, Malama (my mother), Demetrios and Agapoula.
Around the first part of the twentieth century there was an earthquake while everyone was home. For protection from the earthquake it was customary to go to the cellar which was constructed with huge stones. This time it was not good protection. The huge supporting beam fell and killed the father and in his loving arms the youngest of the children. My mother described the horrible day to me. It was like a night mare she said when even the pillars from the basement were falling, and many beams broke that killed both her father and her youngest sister, the baby.
And, as if that was not enough, the two countries Greece and Turkey had an exchange of refugees. The Greek people who still lived in Constantinople and other parts of Turkey went back to Greece and the Turks from Greece were sent back to Turkey. There was no transportation, people found themselves homeless, in the streets. They could only take what they could carry, and my poor grandmother now had no husband and seven children to mother and take care of. It is mind boggling to even begin to comprehend the situation.
After many days of suffering they ended up in Serres. There, Greece gave them a piece of land, a little building lot and it was up to them to get a house built. Luckily with my grandmother’s jewelry a couple of rooms were built. So, when my mother met my father, he was really a God send, to this tormented family. He needed to be loved and they needed him desperately in so many ways.
Achillea was very talented. He had the mind of a builder. He was self-educated, and he knew about measurements and even algebra he had taught himself. He was not afraid to use his hands and his mind. He was on the streets for eleven years.
So, all together my grandmother and her kids, by now they were old enough to help build a decent house with many more rooms. These people were not on a farm, so I have no idea what they did for a living when they found themselves in Greece. Somehow, they survived.
Right now, if you ever had a terrible accident or some catastrophe, say a prayer and count your blessings.
My mother was fifteen and my father was seventeen when they got married. Achillea and Malama had a total of 11 children born to them. The very first one was Carollina, named after my father’s mother in Austria. She only lived a few months and then the baby died.
Then, they had Niko. Two years later Soultana and we called her Soula. Two years later Carolos was born. Two years later Zafiro was born, and we called her Roula. Then they had Demetrios and we called him Taki.
Those were the older children. Then the pattern changed. My parents had children every four years. Stelios was born along with a dead twin boy. Four years later, Panayiotis was born. Four years later I was born and last my sister Anna was born again four years later.
Now the year of 2019, only Panayiotis, myself, and Anna are still alive. Panayiotis lives in Australia for about 50 years. Anna lives in Greece and I live here in the US.
1915 Austrian Mother Karollina
CHAPTER 5
MALAMA - EFROSSINI’S MOTHER
In Greek the word malama means gold. It is also a female name, Goldie. Malamatenia, Malamati, Tenia, Toula, Malamatoula are all versions of MALAMA. This was my mother’s name, Malama. Now that I think about it, I understand this name fits this awesome lady, perfectly!
Recently, I read a book on the only incorruptible money on earth which is GOLD. While digesting the information I thought about my wonderful mother. She had a heart of gold, she had golden hands, she wore golden handmade little heart earrings with rubies, she obeyed the golden rule, she collected English 22 karat gold sovereigns (lira), she saved two lives of innocent little children, she guarded her children during the war all by herself with her very life. She deserved and truly earned the name Malama.
I was over 53 years old in 2001 when I went back to Greece the third time and that is when I learned of the ultra-sacrifices my mother had made during that terrible war, before I was born.
She was born November 1908 in Constantinople. That city today is called Istanbul. This used to be Greek until the Turks stole it from Greece. Constantinople which means the city of Constantine was after all, the capital of the Greek Byzantine Empire that lasted for over 1,100 years. It was called Byzantium then.
King Constantine was a Roman ruler who later became Christian along with his mother Helen. They are both saints now in the Christian religion.
I
