'STORIES FROM MY MOTHER'

This is an excerpt from the book entitled 'Personal Maps'

PERSONAL MAPS - SENSE OF PLACE AND IDENTITY. A COLLECTION OF PRINTS

'STORIES FROM MY MOTHER'

All your stories

I now carry

Sometimes I retell them to my children.

Now that you are gone

I listen more carefully.

Yes, I am still listening

Your voice

In a time of not knowing

Knew

Everything.

'STORIES FROM MY MOTHER'

Some time ago, I completed a series of prints which were grouped under the title 'Songs from My Father'. My father used to sing a lot to us when we were young, and I still remember the lyrics and melodies as if it was yesterday.

My mother had stories of the family and of past times. Sometimes she told us fantastical tales of monsters and heroes, of historical happenings and myths. It was hard to gauge the historical validity of some of the reminiscences, and as I grew older, I was not always as ready to accept them as fact. It was to my surprise that my mother's recollection of a significant and traumatic event during the German occupation of Crete proved to be a fact.

The Germans were shipping most of the Jewish citizens of Crete to Thessaloniki and then, over land to concentration camps. My mother recalled that the vessel was destroyed in the Aegean, resulting in the death of everyone on board. Years later when I was researching a related topic, there it was: "While sailing in convoy for Piraeus, 33 miles northeast of Heraklion, the Tanais was torpedoed and sunk by the British submarine HMS Vivid. Of the hundreds of victims, more than one hundred were children".

Not all her stories were as painful as that one. She had many happy stories too and many anecdotes which still make us laugh. Most importantly, my mother was the main source of cultural knowledge and held on to traditions and customs from her own upbringing. I was worried that when she passed away, all those beautiful things would disappear from our lives. Although some things have gone with her, her recepies, love of food, stories and folk tales have remained with us and now live within her grandchildren.

The text in red is from my favourite childhood writer, a communist (Menelaos Lountemis) who sadly spent his later years in exile. Greece was gripped by a right-wing regime in the late 60s and early 70s. The tender sensibilities and warm, humane tone of his works depicted a just world and filled my heart with hope. Menelaos Lountemis (real name Takis Valassiadis) was born in Istanbul a year after my father, and he too escaped with his life in 1922.