Ptolemy
12-14-2005, 02:58 PM
Taken from another forum...
A TRIAL
by George Modis.
The scene was taking place in the Special Tribunal of Monastiri during the summer of 1906.
Because of the heat, or for better because of the architecture in Themis' Building, a semi-destroyed construction, made out of wood,old as much as the High Empire, that famous Tribunal that so many souls had sent to Hades, was forced to come down the stairs and move into the open.
A big piece of heavy canvas, tied up with ropes,sitting atop wooden poles was extending its beneficial protection above the heads of Judges, Attorneys, Defendants, Gendarms, and few Officials.
The rest of the people had as roof the sky, no matter if it was raining rain, or July's lava. Yet a massive, vivid, noisy crowd in which all the tribes and different ways of dressing from Western Makedonia and Albania were represented, was encircling the Tribunal, making comments, debating, smoking, drinking tea or lemonades in such a way, that it could be said that was depicting the exact happening in those famous peoples courts in ancient Athens.
The day of our trial the Court had come,since early, in its full composition.
In the back of the tent, on top of a tall arm chair was enthroned the President, someone with a large face, a large belly a sagacious Easterner of
Turkish-Kurdish origins.
On his right was sitting very comfortably a fat Hodja and to his left a local Bey with lots of property, who had become a Judge in order to administrate better justice to his workers.
The last two of them Judges were armed with black glasses and all three of them were growing beards trimmed roundly on their faces according the tradition of the old Sultans. The ends of the court were occupied by the two Christian Judges. On the right-end a naive, elderly Greek, who spoke the Turkish language, from the same land as Saint Basilios, who the only relation he had with Hellenism was that he was the most regular patron of our Greek Church, and to the left-end the Bulgarian, a figure of a genuine revolutionary, for whom those speaking bad about him were saying that if Turkey wanted really to get rid of the Komitadjdes she should have first hung that flamboyant Judge of hers.
His Bulgarian audacity was showing in his whole-black Patriarch like beard, which he was cultivating, in order to prove his superiority in everything,
especially with that cataract in front of which were turning pale the poor half-moon beards of his Turkish colleaques.
To his left was sitting, bended over papers and legal briefings, the District Attorney, having a profile like Abdul Hamit, for whom they were saying that sometimes he was holding back his thunders, and he was offering his speaking ability in auction, sometimes in favor of the Greek Kommittee, and others in favor of the Bulgarian Kommittee.
Across from him were his two secretaries. They were making preparations to write, instead of bending over on their desk, to do it on top of their left hand, sitting very comfordable with their legs crossed according to the original Turkish tradition.
During the breaks the hand that was issued as desk was relaxing massaging their legs, of which few toes were showing their revolutionary tops between their socks full with holes.
The entire picture was completed by the two Court-bailiffs that at the same time were acting as interpreters for the different dialects of the area. Their linguistic ability was so great, that many were honoring with their presence the Court, in order to hear from them and enjoy the inestimable beauties of their translations.
Few hats of Consular employees or European organizators were constituting the anorthography within this pure Turkish surroundings.
In front of the Court and between lines of gendarmes were standing with an attitude of infinite devoutness the accused ones, ten peasants from Lisolai a village on the road from Monastiri to Perlepes. They were accused as collaborators of a gang, which in Turkish uniforms came
down suddenly one day in their village and slaughtered eight peasants.
The Ethnicity of the gang has not been verified,or which demon or God the gang was serving.
However the public opinion wanted it to be Greek.
----- Whats your name? the president of the court asked thru the interpreter the first in line among the accused ones, a middle-aged farmer with bended shoulders.
----- Petros Gruios.
----- Where were you born?
----- In Lisolai.
----- How old are you?
----- 55.
----- What kind of work you do?
----- Farmer.
----- What are you?
----- Christian.
----- Yes Christian: But of which Ethnicity?
----- Uhm,,,,, I don't know ! the farmer replied stammering.
----- What do you mean you don't know ? ! How such a thing could be possible ! Not knowing what you are! Greek-Orthodox (roum), Bulgarian Schismatic, Vlach, Serb, Papistanian, Protestant, what are you? Thank God you, the Christians in this part of the country are very rich in these things.
The farmer raised his shoulders one more time.
----- Lail Allah ! The President exclaimed. This is the first time in my life
that I meet a man not knowing his Ethnicity.
----- Shame! Shame to you! What kind of a man are you! You are not a Turk, neither Christian, nor a Bulgarian, or Jew....... Reis-Bey Efendi (the
president) will become really mad at you, and he'll let you die like a dog in jail.........was saying on his own the naive bailiff---interpreter, which with all of his wise ability of knowing the linguistics he didn't have a very clear understanding of the diversities between a Greek and a Bulgar, and between them and a Jew or a Turk.
His sacred indignation and his rhetoric diarrhea was interrupted by the local Judge, whom wasn't in need of using his illumination in order to communicate with the accused.
----- Abre child of mine, he told to the dizzy by now farmer, in his own language, starring at him above his black glasses. How come you are saying that you don't know what you are? Don't you have a priest in your village?
----- No.
----- And how come?
----- Because, because he is in..............jail.
----- Before he went to jail how was he reading in the Church? In Greek or Bulgarian? Which Bishop was he worshipping?
----- I don't know............You better ask him.
----- Didn't you have a teacher in the village?
----- We had one but he left right after the slaughtering.
----- What was he? Bulgarian or Graikos? I don't believe that you have no idea what the teacher was.
----- I think he was Bulgarian.
----- Finally so........... I almost lost my soul to you; so....you were Bulgars.
And turning towards the President.
----- Reis Bey Efendi, they are Bulgarians, he told him, with an expression
that even Archimedes didn't have on his face when he discovered his hydrostatic laws.
The secretaries bended over and and notated: Bulgarian.
Suddenly the long-baired Bulgarian Judge step upon.
----- Forgive me, Mister President, he said. My colleaque Bey Efendi, even knowing the language very well he was unable to communicate with the accused, because he doesn't know the understandings and the cleverness of the Christian peasants. I am asking your-highness to allow me to ask myself directly a few questions.
----- Ouf........You are overdoing it, my brother! replied instead of the President the representative of Justice for Hellenism from Kaisareia..........
Some times you are complaining because we don't admit that all the inhabitants of Makedonia are Bulgars.
to be continued..
A TRIAL
by George Modis.
The scene was taking place in the Special Tribunal of Monastiri during the summer of 1906.
Because of the heat, or for better because of the architecture in Themis' Building, a semi-destroyed construction, made out of wood,old as much as the High Empire, that famous Tribunal that so many souls had sent to Hades, was forced to come down the stairs and move into the open.
A big piece of heavy canvas, tied up with ropes,sitting atop wooden poles was extending its beneficial protection above the heads of Judges, Attorneys, Defendants, Gendarms, and few Officials.
The rest of the people had as roof the sky, no matter if it was raining rain, or July's lava. Yet a massive, vivid, noisy crowd in which all the tribes and different ways of dressing from Western Makedonia and Albania were represented, was encircling the Tribunal, making comments, debating, smoking, drinking tea or lemonades in such a way, that it could be said that was depicting the exact happening in those famous peoples courts in ancient Athens.
The day of our trial the Court had come,since early, in its full composition.
In the back of the tent, on top of a tall arm chair was enthroned the President, someone with a large face, a large belly a sagacious Easterner of
Turkish-Kurdish origins.
On his right was sitting very comfortably a fat Hodja and to his left a local Bey with lots of property, who had become a Judge in order to administrate better justice to his workers.
The last two of them Judges were armed with black glasses and all three of them were growing beards trimmed roundly on their faces according the tradition of the old Sultans. The ends of the court were occupied by the two Christian Judges. On the right-end a naive, elderly Greek, who spoke the Turkish language, from the same land as Saint Basilios, who the only relation he had with Hellenism was that he was the most regular patron of our Greek Church, and to the left-end the Bulgarian, a figure of a genuine revolutionary, for whom those speaking bad about him were saying that if Turkey wanted really to get rid of the Komitadjdes she should have first hung that flamboyant Judge of hers.
His Bulgarian audacity was showing in his whole-black Patriarch like beard, which he was cultivating, in order to prove his superiority in everything,
especially with that cataract in front of which were turning pale the poor half-moon beards of his Turkish colleaques.
To his left was sitting, bended over papers and legal briefings, the District Attorney, having a profile like Abdul Hamit, for whom they were saying that sometimes he was holding back his thunders, and he was offering his speaking ability in auction, sometimes in favor of the Greek Kommittee, and others in favor of the Bulgarian Kommittee.
Across from him were his two secretaries. They were making preparations to write, instead of bending over on their desk, to do it on top of their left hand, sitting very comfordable with their legs crossed according to the original Turkish tradition.
During the breaks the hand that was issued as desk was relaxing massaging their legs, of which few toes were showing their revolutionary tops between their socks full with holes.
The entire picture was completed by the two Court-bailiffs that at the same time were acting as interpreters for the different dialects of the area. Their linguistic ability was so great, that many were honoring with their presence the Court, in order to hear from them and enjoy the inestimable beauties of their translations.
Few hats of Consular employees or European organizators were constituting the anorthography within this pure Turkish surroundings.
In front of the Court and between lines of gendarmes were standing with an attitude of infinite devoutness the accused ones, ten peasants from Lisolai a village on the road from Monastiri to Perlepes. They were accused as collaborators of a gang, which in Turkish uniforms came
down suddenly one day in their village and slaughtered eight peasants.
The Ethnicity of the gang has not been verified,or which demon or God the gang was serving.
However the public opinion wanted it to be Greek.
----- Whats your name? the president of the court asked thru the interpreter the first in line among the accused ones, a middle-aged farmer with bended shoulders.
----- Petros Gruios.
----- Where were you born?
----- In Lisolai.
----- How old are you?
----- 55.
----- What kind of work you do?
----- Farmer.
----- What are you?
----- Christian.
----- Yes Christian: But of which Ethnicity?
----- Uhm,,,,, I don't know ! the farmer replied stammering.
----- What do you mean you don't know ? ! How such a thing could be possible ! Not knowing what you are! Greek-Orthodox (roum), Bulgarian Schismatic, Vlach, Serb, Papistanian, Protestant, what are you? Thank God you, the Christians in this part of the country are very rich in these things.
The farmer raised his shoulders one more time.
----- Lail Allah ! The President exclaimed. This is the first time in my life
that I meet a man not knowing his Ethnicity.
----- Shame! Shame to you! What kind of a man are you! You are not a Turk, neither Christian, nor a Bulgarian, or Jew....... Reis-Bey Efendi (the
president) will become really mad at you, and he'll let you die like a dog in jail.........was saying on his own the naive bailiff---interpreter, which with all of his wise ability of knowing the linguistics he didn't have a very clear understanding of the diversities between a Greek and a Bulgar, and between them and a Jew or a Turk.
His sacred indignation and his rhetoric diarrhea was interrupted by the local Judge, whom wasn't in need of using his illumination in order to communicate with the accused.
----- Abre child of mine, he told to the dizzy by now farmer, in his own language, starring at him above his black glasses. How come you are saying that you don't know what you are? Don't you have a priest in your village?
----- No.
----- And how come?
----- Because, because he is in..............jail.
----- Before he went to jail how was he reading in the Church? In Greek or Bulgarian? Which Bishop was he worshipping?
----- I don't know............You better ask him.
----- Didn't you have a teacher in the village?
----- We had one but he left right after the slaughtering.
----- What was he? Bulgarian or Graikos? I don't believe that you have no idea what the teacher was.
----- I think he was Bulgarian.
----- Finally so........... I almost lost my soul to you; so....you were Bulgars.
And turning towards the President.
----- Reis Bey Efendi, they are Bulgarians, he told him, with an expression
that even Archimedes didn't have on his face when he discovered his hydrostatic laws.
The secretaries bended over and and notated: Bulgarian.
Suddenly the long-baired Bulgarian Judge step upon.
----- Forgive me, Mister President, he said. My colleaque Bey Efendi, even knowing the language very well he was unable to communicate with the accused, because he doesn't know the understandings and the cleverness of the Christian peasants. I am asking your-highness to allow me to ask myself directly a few questions.
----- Ouf........You are overdoing it, my brother! replied instead of the President the representative of Justice for Hellenism from Kaisareia..........
Some times you are complaining because we don't admit that all the inhabitants of Makedonia are Bulgars.
to be continued..