Memoirs of George Bizos

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For more information about Aluka, please see http://www.aluka.org/. Page 1 of 60 Author/Creator Bizos, George Contributor Karis, Thomas, Gerhart, Gail M. Date 1989-10 Resource type Memoirs Language English Subject Coverage (spatial) South Africa, Greece Coverage (temporal) 1941-1989 Rights By kind permission of George Bizos. Description The memoirs of George Bizos, with emphasis on his legal career, as related to Thomas Karis and Gail Gerhart in New York, October 1989. Page 2 of 60 Memoirs of GEORGE BIZOS(With emphasis on his legal career)As related to Thomas Karis and Gail GerhartNew York, October 1989____________________________________________________________________Day 1: October 7, 1989[Nonverbatim: At the time the Germans occupied Greece in 1941, I was at school inKalamata, which is near my home town of Vasilitsi, near Koroni in the southofGreece, where my father was a prominent citizen, having been the mayor at onetime. In 1941 I was thirteen. Seven allied soldiers from New Zealand were beingsheltered in our home town, and we were warned that there might be reprisals againstmy father. He arranged for someone to get a permit to take a boat out of the harbor,and with others we set out for Crete. My mother was reluctant to see us go, but wehad always heard tales of how the Turkish janissaries pressed men from the conqueredterritories into their armies, and she feared the Germans might do the same. Therest of the family came to join us in South Africa only in the l950s.Whilst preparing to set out to sea, we saw German aircraft going over. They had blackcrosses painted on their undersides. We didn't know that they were heading forCrete. On the third day at sea we saw a large fleet of war ships, and one of thesoldiers on our boat signalled to them with a mirror. We were off course to thewest. One of the ships veered over and picked usup. It was the British fleet. Theytold us that Crete was about to fall to the Germans.They took us to Egypt, where we stayed about two months in mid-1941. My father washoused in a camp at the sports club on Gezira [Zamalek] island in Cairo, and I wassent to stay at a Greek orphanage in Alexandria, where I stayed for about a month.Refugees were being moved out, with single people being sent to India and familiesbeing sent to South Africa. We went by train to Suez and travelled on the Ile deFrance toDurban. I had a taste of violence on the train when some Gurkha troopsthrew one of their officers out of a window and the train had to back up to get hisbody. I was impressed by the sight of strange men with turbans.When we landed at Durban there wereAfrican men at the docks with rickshaws. To methey seemed like men doing beasts' work. Later when my children were small and weholidayed in Durban, the rickshaw men were all dressed up for tourists and my sonswanted to go for a ride, but I refused to let anyone go. Somehow I could not bringmyself to tell my sons then what I have said to you now.We were taken by train to Johannesburg. Some Greek families looked after for us for afew months. I still remember the imposing facade of the Johannesburg station, thoughthe place where we got off the train was in Braamfontein. I went for a few days to aschool where I was laughed at because I couldn't speak English, so I quit andstarted working behind the counter in a Greek shop. My father got a job at an ISCORmunitions factory in Pretoria, while I remained in Johannesburg, living first in aYMCA, then in a small room near the shop. I worked in the shop for about a yearbefore I went back to school.Nearby there was a bicycle shop, and the daughter of the owner was a sixth gradeteacher at a predominantly Jewish school. Her name was Cecilia Feinstein. InSeptember 1941 the Sunday Times had run a story on my fatherhelping allied troops out of Nazi-occupied Greece. There was a photo of myfather and me (in a cap); the title of the story had the word "Odyssey" in it. Thisteacher had seen the picture and took an interest in me. I started in her school. ](Verbatim transcription now begins)I had missed six months of school in Greece, and almost eighteen months in SouthAfrica, so I was about eighteen months to two years older than the rest of theclass. But it didn't matter. I continued to live in the room and work after schoolin the shop. I caught a tram to school everyday. My English by then was enough tobeable to participate. In fact, her concern over me was so great that my relationshipwith the class was such that I was viewed as the teacher's pet. I was held out as anexample of what a chap could do if he really tried. This was a school in a poorarea. Most of the students' ambitions were to become tradesmen. The school only wentup to Standard eight.I remember Miss Brown taught us English, an emotional woman, in retrospect I think agreat admirer of the British Empire. One time she was reading aloud to us from The Prisoner of Zenda , and she read out a sentence "I'llbet you a crown he'll never be crowned." And I laughed. She threw the book down andshe said she's sick and tired of teaching this class. Here is the only foreigner inthe class and he's the only one to catch the pun. She had to explain it to the restof the class. This didn't make me popular with the rest of the class.Cecilia Feinstein gave me lessons. She lived on top of a hill between the school andthe shop where I was working. I would go for math and English lessons. She wouldgive me a light slap when I would lapse into Greek in reciting the multiplicationtables.It's very hard when you learn them by heart in one language to then recitethem in another. Later she got married and left the area. But meanwhile she arrangedfor me to go to a predominantly Jewish high school, Athlone Boys High School, whereI did my last three years of school. My English improved, and I even almost got apart in a play, The Barretts of Wimpole Street. I had a lotof self-confidence. I was also a sort of a hero in that school because I was arefugee from the Nazis. I was happy there. I was still working in the shop.While I was at school, my father left his job and did what all Greeks do in SouthAfrica and tried his hand at business. Though he had no experience. He opened acafe. But what was significant about it was that it was directly opposite to theoffices of Die Vaderland . It was on Plein Street inJohannesburg, near the corner of de Villiers, near the station. My father's shop wasdirectly opposite the loudspeaker which broadcast during the l948 election campaign(in Afrikaans): "Come vote, ladies and gentlemen, vote for a white South Africa!Vote National!"My father's business didn't go well. I finished school in l948. My father wanted meto do medicine, but when I applied I didn't get in. The places were being givenfirst to returning soldiers. So it was decided that I would first do a year in arts,then reapply when the pressure from the ex-servicemen was lower.[ How did you first become politically conscious?] In Greece I remember politicalrallies with my father and his friends participating and throwing their caps in theair when the local MP came. But I did not really understand much. Zionist socialismwas probably the first political activity that I came across. Most of my schoolmateswere Zionists, and the establishment of Israel was very high up for them. In fact mybest friend left South Africa as soon as he got his matric certificate and went toIsrael. There were meetings held regularly at the school, and I sometimes wentthere, about the plight of the Jewish people. And these same people were interestedin South African questions; they were very concerned about the plight of the blackpeople.[When did you first meet a politically Page 3 of 60 articulate black?] Only later. But perhaps myperspective should be seen in the context of that time. My generation was too youngto fight in the war, but old enough to know and understand what we were told the warwas being fought for, equality and self-determination, and so on.

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