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Yet he was his happiest when we finally organised our family in
March, 2000 to visit Crete. He said May would have been much a better time,
with all the wild flowers blooming everywhere. Nevertheless, it was a wonderful
trip, one of the last he managed to take.
Years ago, when he went to Crete for the first time since 1923, his friend
from the Greek cement industry, Marcos Koseoglou, arranged someone to
assist my parents. Later on, this gentleman introduced his young niece’s
husband, Kyriakos Kaparoumiakis, to my parents. He was trying to locate his
mother’s long lost neighbors from Heraklion who had emigrated to Izmir in
1923. The neighbor’s eldest daughter was his mother’s best friend, Guzin.
Well, Guzin was my aunt, my father’s older sister. At the time, Kyriakos’
mother and my Aunt Guzin were still alive and well. Unfortunately, these two
old friends never met again, but at least a tenuous yet a strong bond was reestablished.
After this miraculous coincidence, Kyriakos and his wife Maro became our
bridge to our Cretan past. And in Crete, they became our generous and warm
hosts and guides to the island and to our until-then-sort-of-vague heritage.
My grandparent’s house had been unfortunately torn down to become the
modern post office, but the family’s store “BON MARCHE” was still very much
there, albeit in this life as a great patisserie! My great grandfather’s name is
still carved on the stone façade both in Greek and in Arabic alphabets.
The climax occurred when my father’s meeting with the mayor of Heraklion
was televised. My great grandfather had been the mayor of the city. When
the current mayor received my father, he showed him documents written and
signed by his grandfather, and offered him his grandfather’s mayoral chair to
sit. The following day, the headlines of the local paper ran as “He is a Turk,
but his heart is Cretan.”.
For the few days we were in Crete, my father became instantly the local
celebrity, which we all enjoyed immensely.
It was quite a surprise to see how well my father spoke Cretan dialect. Kyriakos
loved to recite “madinades” with my father - my father knew the real old ones,
mostly forgotten by now.
Association des Etats Généraux des Etudiants de L’Europe
And the songs we sang in a tavern in Arhannes! I did not know my father new
so many old Cretan songs, though I am sure his repertoire was enhanced by the
songs he learned in the Greek taverns of Beyoğlu many, many years ago as a
student!
And his dialect and choice of words were almost ancient. Language changes
fast, and his was from the early twenties.
Though it was a short trip, it was one of the best we have taken - we saw
the extra sparkle in my father’s eyes, and his step was lighter, and he
was no longer ill. And how well we all related to the land, the people,
the food and the streets - wish the wild flowers had been blooming!
During the Symposium, I had decided to organise my lecture notes and
rewrite them in a brief summary for my father as a birthday present.
However, I failed to do so. And now since we have lost him this past October,
there will be no need for such a birthday present.
A photo
taken during
the visit to
Crete 2000
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From left to right:
Ayhan Somer Moran,
Zeynep Somer,
Erol Moran,
Maro Kaparoumiakis,
Rasih Meral Somer,
Kyriakos Kaparoumiakis
Population Exchange
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