Mom always said we came from a long line. In the village, we
had unending numbers of cousins to roam the ancient paths with, and to play along
in the orchards and olive groves planted by our kin.
I never paid much attention to her and grandma’s chattering
about the ancestors and genealogical lines. Yet, perhaps by osmosis, some of
that precious history infused my soul and filled my head with stories of
castles and Reginas.
Pappou Konstantas, Father’s father, an imposing giant of a
man, whose palm could crush a newborn’s head, yet gentle in his toothless grin,
recited old folksongs to me in the night and whispered superstitious stories.
“There’s the diamond-headed snake in the ravine,” he would say
to me every time we hiked by.
“Really Pappou? Have you seen it? ” I would ask wide-eyed.
“Yes,” he would nod.
As much as I searched for the glint of the diamond on a
slithering snake’s head in the reeds, I never managed to spy one, but in my
mind’s eye where I still see it.
Stories ran across the fabric of my DNA and I snatched as
many scraps as I could gather and folded them deep in my heart.
When that fateful day when clocks stopped and the war
separated me from my storyline, these became my inspiration and my lifeline
that connects me to my severed past. The child of war held tight to the red
ribbon of the ancestors and thirty years later reunited with the adult me. No
longer fractured, I now write, unspooling the silk my grandmother spun at night
when she talked with my mother by the light of the kerosene lamp. The long
shadows danced around the room, a puppet show of our souls, and I sat, without
cellphone, radio or TV, mesmerized by the lullaby of their stories.
Oh, what I would give to be there again, on the land of my
ancestors, soaked with the sweat of generations before me.
It became strikingly clear to me while traveling in South
East Asia, where people worship their ancestors, that my history makes me
whole. It’s not a worship like for a god. It’s an acknowledgment and gratitude
for those who paved the way.
Enjoy!
Maria
