The Great Decline A Novel By Petre Nakovski (Translated from Macedonian to English and edited by Risto Stefov) The Great Decline A Novel Published by: Risto Stefov Publications [email protected] Toronto, Canada All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written consent from the author, except for the inclusion of brief and documented quotations in a review. Copyright 2013 by Petre Nakovski & Risto Stefov e-Book Edition Any similarity is by chance 2 The Great Decline – Chapter 1 “Are we all here?” asked Vera. “If anyone here is under sixteen then she should go home.” “You, you there in the corner, how old are you?” Vera asked. “In a few months I will be sixteen...” she replied. “Good. Now go home and I will call on you when you turn sixteen. Go home… Today, ladies, I will not talk,” continued Vera in her Kostur dialect, “about the struggle led by our brothers against the Anglo-American imperialists and their Athenian lackeys here at home. I will only say that the mountains are free, Gramos is free and turned into a free territory and every day victory is closer.” Vera’s hands and fists were alive, lightning fast, expressive, leading and threatening. There was a tone of certainty in her voice, resolute and angry. She looked proud, ruthless, angry, destructive, fiery, cruelly profound, victorious and filled with faith. The only thing missing was lightning and fire falling from the sky and turning the enemy into ash. She had the power of persuasion and her every movement, her every word, her every glance, fell on fertile ground... “Ladies, fall is coming and will soon be followed by winter which will bring cold, rain and snow. Our fighting brothers will need sweaters, socks, gloves. Who will give them these things if not we, their sisters? We need to knit day and night. Am I right or am I not?” “You are right!” a number of voices were heard saying. “If that’s the way it is, then let us knit all these things for our brothers so that they can stay warm while they are fighting…” concluded Vera. “You are right Vera, but we don’t have any yarn!” a voice was heard saying. 3 “I know you don’t have yarn. I also know that you don’t even have wool. But please don’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you, we don’t want the spies to know. There, at Gramos, there is a free territory where we have herds of sheep and piles of wool. The piles of wool are high but we don’t have anyone to weave them into yarn... Yesterday or the day before, young ladies from the villages D’mbeni, Kosinets, Labanitsa, Smrdesh and the Koreshta and Prespa villages passed by here. I don’t know if you saw them. No? Too bad! You should have seen how cheerful and full of fighting spirit they were. They are already in Gramos and they have began to weave the yarn and knit the clothing. The young ladies from the Ianovo villages we there even earlier doing the same and were the first to deliver sweaters and socks to our fighting brothers… I hear you were the only ones left behind. Why is that? Did no one come and tell you? When I heard that you were the only ones left behind I said to myself: ‘Shame on those whose duty it was to let you know and didn’t.’ But not to worry, let us not look for faults now, we will find them tomorrow and set those responsible straight. I came here in person to ask you if you want to go to Gramos to weave the wool into yarn and knit sweaters, socks and gloves? I know that the young ladies here knit the best sweaters and socks with beautiful decorations and patterns. Is it like that or not, eh?” concluded Vera. “You are right Vera!” a number of voices were heard saying. “What do you say, will you got to Gramos?” asked Vera. “Yes we will!!!” thundered the crowd. “Good! Very Good! Now that you want to go, please go home and get your spindles and knitting needs and some bread for a day or two. You should be back home in a week or two. Don’t worry about food and cooking, there will be plenty of bread and cheese. You will also receive a cooked meal every day. There will also be boiled, baked or fried meat… Go and be back here in an hour… Go…” ordered Vera. With Vera leading, the women left before sunset. Vera looked dignified, confident, energetic and resolute and with every move she made she looked like she had something military about her. She was 4 well-educated, trained for observation and to show an example... Behind her were the young women with bags on their shoulders, walking in two’s or three’s out of step in crooked lines, stomping hard on the dry soil and raising a lot of dust… “Vera, can we sing a song?” one of the women asked. “Yes we can, why not?” replied Vera. “To battle, to battle, to battle…” a young woman’s voice was heard singing. Then immediately the other women joined in: “Macedonian people! For the people’s holy freedom With songs and joy we proceed…” They arrived in Kalevishta before midnight. Vera asked where the village Board was located, which at the same time served as a kind of Headquarters for receiving young women. When Vera found it, she, along with those responsible, assigned the young ladies quarters in the various houses. Strangers were sleeping together on the bare floor covered with old worn Italian military blankets. Cramped one beside the other, they slept in the fetal position with their legs up on their chests and arms crossed under their chins. The places reeked of moldy hay and rotting leaves. At grey dawn they awakened them and gathered them at the blacksmith shop. They called them up by name, took attendance and lined them up in front of a cauldron. Mountain tea was simmering in the large cauldron used for melting pork fat. Steam was rising and spreading the tea’s aroma. They were given a slice of dark rye bread and a piece of thick marmalade that had an unusual rotten smell. They ate and drank silently with frowns on their faces. Some had red and swollen eyes from crying and lack of sleep. “Line up!” a man’s authoritative voice was heard ordering. They moved slightly and looked around. They did not understand the command and they did not know who the man was. “Line up!” the 5 same voice ordered again, this time louder. Vera suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She stood by the man. He was wearing an officer’s belt, carrying a leather briefcase over his shoulders and holstering a handgun on his hip. Vera and the man spoke but none of the girls could hear what they were saying. “Girls, listen to me. Gather in separate lines according to your villages. All those from Kosinets stand here; all those from Labanitsa stand there and line up, stand one beside the other. When our Comrade Commander says ‘Line up!’ you stand one beside the other just like I told you. Do you understand? Now do as I explained, quickly, quickly, just like that...” ordered Vera and smiled with a satisfied look on her face. She then turned to the commander and said: “You see? This is how it is done. Not like you, suddenly yelling ‘Line up!’ Do you think they came here already trained?” “Ok, ok...” replied the commander. “Don’t worry. We will train them. Come back in a few weeks and you will see. Line up!” he again yelled. “Like that, side by side...” The line was long and curved. “Now turn towards the hill and ‘forward march’ on my command. Walk behind the boys carrying guns.” They left, and as they marched their line broke up. Some moved ahead of others. When they came to an opening they turned left. The narrow, rocky path took them to a forest of tall pines. The place smelled of rot and resin. The front of the line entered the village Ianoveni. The leader ordered rest. The remainder of the line arrived. The girls sat down on the warm rocks or lay down on the baked soil. It was noon and it was very hot. The girls wiped the sweat off their foreheads and shoulders and rubbed their legs and sore feet. They were burning from thirst. Old, bent village women carrying water in copper and earthenware jugs approached them. One after another the girls drank and poured the precious water over their shoulders and chests and washed their arms and necks. All around them and far ahead were tall mountains separated by deep ravines. Alevitsa was on their left. They had heard of Alevitsa when they were little children. There, seven years ago, the Greek army had persistently fought against the Italians for weeks. Alevitsa was bombarded by aircraft and cannons, but the Italians failed to take it. They say the 6 tip of the mountain was demolished but the concrete bunkers held out. Directly ahead, far away was a tall spiky mountain. One of the partisans leading this column said that this mountain was Gramos and behind it was Ioannina in Epirus.