The Refugee Tree Katerina Charisi - Gordana Mudri - Natasa Tsitsiridaki the refugee tree Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki An Ovi eBooks Publication 2023 Ovi Project Publication - All material is copyright of the Ovi magazine & the writer C Ovi books are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book The Refugee Tree Katerina Charisi - Gordana Mudri - Natasa Tsitsiridaki the refugee tree Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki The Refugee Tree the refugee tree Introduction 7 The Sea of Tears Katerina Charisi 9-13 From the South with Love Gordana Mudri 14-18 Just Do Something 19-26 Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki Introduction The Refugee Tree T here are no words to describe the refugees’ sit- uation unveiling the last few months in Europe. There are no words to describe the pain, the des- peration that leads these people to risk their children lives and in the end for many of them to die in the waters of the Aegean Sea. In the meantime there are no words to describe the dis- gust for the governments and the people who see threat and danger on these unprotected and hunted souls. Three ladies, three beautiful ladies express and fight through their writing their support to these dispirit fellow humans and their disgust to the inhuman voices. three la- dies with their stories become the voice of the quiet many who act and help instead of hiding behind their prejudice and racism. Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki are not only speaking for Ovi, they are speaking of all of us and the call is simple: act, help, wherever you are, feel these people’s pain and empathize with their struggle. To- day is theirs, tomorrow it might be yours. Read their stories, embrace their feelings, feel their anger and their compassion but most of all share their passion to help. Thanos Kalamidas The Ovi Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki The Refugee Tree I filled the bathtub with water and now I just stand there, staring at the motionless transparent liquid while the kids are excited thinking that they are going to have a bubble bath. So they run to their room and come back with all their toys on hands. No! The water is cold. I filled it with cold water. I take my clothes off and get in. The minute my toes touch the water a deep shiver runs down my spine and like a sudden awakening I feel my senses alerted. The muscles tighten and for a second I even feel my vision and hear- ing sharpening like an animal that senses the upcoming danger. I hate that cold water and a rough sigh as I sit in the tub that comes out makes my older son ask nervously, what’s wrong? Is it that cold? Why did you get in there? The Sea of Tears By Katerina Charisi Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki Go away. I can’t explain. But none of them move. They stand right there in the doorframe side by side, looking at me all confused with their eyes wide open and their rub- ber ducks in their hands, coloured towels laying on the floor. They don’t talk, or move. I don’t look at them. For an infinitesimal moment something crossed lighting my mind. It never took a real form in words to shape into a complete thought, but the moment was enough to create the image. I put the kids in the tub and watch them as they try in surprising fear to understand where all this wrong doing came from. That cold feeling, the shuddering, the knocking teeth, the incapability to make it end, the parent who just sits there, looking, doing nothing. They don’t understand why mommy can’t do anything, since mommy can make ev- erything possible. The devastating awareness that mom- my and daddy are not the super heroes they thought they were. The awful awareness that this is not a bad dream from which they can wake up in their warm blankets, rub their eyes and run to the kitchen for their fresh toasted bread with honey and the warm milk watching cartoons. It is real and now they are in there, helpless, hopeless and frightened. It’s something totally stupid what I did. I thought I wanted to see how it feels to be in the cold water, having The Refugee Tree your children writhing in the cold water while the dark mass of the seabed beetles like a black hole ready to suck you forever in its silent deadly depth. Behind my firmly shut eyes I can see me letting off their hands and watch them sink, thousands of unanswered whys in their eyes and not a single word comes out from my mouth, I try to think of what to choose among of our family’s memories that scatters right now and gets lost forever, their voices, their baby cries, their laugh or their tiny hands in mine, there are thousands of memories to hold tight in me but so many others that I was waiting for to come but I am not going to see them growing up, God, I am not going to see them growing up, I’ll have nailed in front of my eyes their sinking bodies that still fit in my arms and their last deep breath of Death instead. I will have to struggle all my life finding ways keep reliving this image until I die, with an eternal and des- perate voice inside me that screams MURDERERS!!! To any direction, to all directions. Politicians, governments, simple human beings as I. Because all I see around me is just murderers, everyone is an accomplice in their horri- ble murders, by watching us dying in their monitors and changing the channel when they get bored, they are all murderers that still have a wonderful life waiting for them in safety, raising their kids, raising their grandkids, they are all murderers in my eyes for just being alive. Someone had told me once death is a part of life too, but I can’t ac- Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki cept that in any way, death has no place in any child’s life, death has no place in my children’s life. But this is not the open cold black Aegean sea, it is not a runaway from a dissolved home in flames, it is only a harmless stupid bathtub in a safe warm house and the wa- ter might be cold but reaches only below my knees, I can get out any time I want and I am too blench to put my kids in there and stay unmoved in their look, I am too terrified to even let the thought complete in my mind. I open my eyes and I pull the cap off and watch the wa- ter flow down and disappear. There is something from me going down there and lost. The kids are still there in the same position, rubber ducks in their hands, the little one steps awkwardly on his towel, staring at me worried, confused, with a question in their eyes that will never be asked because there is no answer and I shake my head to drive out the horrible worries, I get off the tub, put my clothes on. They can see that I am back, my normal again; they can tell that whatever I had is just gone, so the older one asks with a bit doubt in his voice, can we go and play? Yes, of course we can. Murderers, I whisper. Not only you take innocent lives, not only you take children’s lives, you make us your accomplices for putting on our shoul- ders this unbearable weight of help and support we must give to this people and we are going to do it in every way The Refugee Tree we can because WE ARE humans, while the whole coun- try and most of us can’t do anything anymore even for our own lives. You turn us all into accomplices to murder, I feel a kill- er like you are, because you made me turn my head away when I see all this pain around me, you made me pretend that I don’t see the begging hands, I don’t see the raggedy bodies sleeping on the cold, dirty streets, you made me pretend that I don’t listen to their voices begging for a bread loaf, the shame in their broken voice begging for a bottle of milk while I can see and hear VERY WELL, but in every home now live 4 and 14 people struggling with half salary and I have nothing else to give except of the clothes I wear, I have nothing else to share except of my own food ration and I am sick of APOLOGISING, I am so sick of apologizing that I don’t know how to help, so I pretend that I don’t see and don’t listen and then I hate myself for acting like a monster as you are. Curse you. Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki T he windows of the spacious, elegant room were shaded by thick curtains, providing a pleasant shade. The summer months were tolerable inside the thick walls with good wine and food. The men around the table didn’t have to think too much about everyday life. They were sitting around a large table, relaxed, enjoy- ing a game of cards and jokes. For a long time they were living sheltered from the everyday problems. The decision was common: escape from the stress for a while. They didn’t count days. They just enjoyed it and the only effort they invested was to outwit their opponents in a game of cards. And occasionally listen to the complaints coming from the women in the next room. True, women didn’t obstruct them much. That was the deal. Holidays for all and returning to reality when the male part of the compa- ny decides to. And man were not in a hurry. They had ev- erything they needed, with the wine the most important. From the south with love... By Gordana Mudri The Refugee Tree - A good year - concluded one while filling a glass for the umpteenth time. - Wasn’t bad - a man a bit absently nodded from the opposite side of the table. - I can’t remember you ever having a bad harvest. What’s the reason of your success? - A good soil and the sun - he smiled nonchalantly - and effort, of course. The first man roared with laughter. - I don’t remember you ever bending your back in the vineyards. Without those islanders, there would be no wine! - I never said it depends on my effort. I’m rarely in one place, but it is important that they know who the boss is. After all, they benefit from a good harvest too. - That’s fine ... If they were not there, who knows what we would drink now. A satisfied smile flickered over his face and he trium- phantly laid his cards on the table. Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki - You old bastard! - Cried the winemaker, angrily throwing his own cards - You don’t care for wine! You’re distracting us! - Your own wine hit your brain and now you’re blaming me - laughed the first one - Is it just me or you could en- dure any more drink earlier? - I challenge you to find out! I’m sure you can’t surpass me! - We’ll leave that for another time. I need a break - he lazily rose from the table and stretched himself and then walked toward the door. - I’m going to check what’s going on in the female side. For a long time none of them said anything toxic - he smiled - It’s better to let them anticipate and give them some attention. He stopped near the curtained windows. - What’s that noise outside? - It’s summer and it’s full of tourists. What did you ex- pect? - It doesn’t seem to me that was like that before... The Refugee Tree He pulled back the heavy curtain and strong sunlight blinded him for a moment. He blinked several times and looked out the window. - I see nothing but trees. Is it not supposed to be a pro- tected location in a secluded place? Without hustling and bustling around? I’m going to see what’s going on! He moved to the door. In a room filled with sunlight their wives were resting, reclining on sofas. Some of them were reading, some were entertained with embroidery. Only one was anxiously standing by the door, wide open to the terrace. - Hello ladies! - He spoke to them with a smile on his face - Anyone knows what that noise is coming from out- side? A woman close to the door threw an angry glance at him. - Finally - she murmured, without moving her eyes. - What’s happening, darling? - What is happening?! I warned you it would happen! I told you that break should not take too long! - I told you! I told you! Does every of our conversations Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki must start and end with this?! - He was angry. He went out to a spacious marble terrace, staring at the trees on the slope in front of the villa. - This was supposed to be a protected place - he mut- tered to himself - without a lot of visitors. - It was! Once! - Cried the woman behind him - If all of you, there in that room, took care about something else; not only wine and entertainment, you would have seen what is happening, long time ago! I told you that we can’t leave everything unattended for so long! He looked at her in amazement, scratching behind his ear. He didn’t want a fight. After all, it seemed to him that they really had no contact with the outside world for a long time. - Come on, tell the others and let’s see what happens. They left the shade of the luxurious villa and headed through the tree-alley, toward the valley. The voices that entered discomfort in their idyllic world were becoming stronger and more chaotic. - What the hell?! - He stopped appalled, staring at the mass of people - Who are these people?! What language is that?! The Refugee Tree - One of the languages of the Middle East - replied the young woman behind him. - Well, how many of them are here?! What are they do- ing here? These are not tourists! - They’re coming from across the sea... - They come here? Why? There are too many of them! - They cannot go any further ... The guards are at the borders. Puzzled, he looked at the young woman behind him, and then again he looked at the crowd of dark-skinned people, slowly walking among them. The rest of the group followed him in silence. They circled through the squares and streets. The city they remembered had change. There was no joy and joyful faces; there was no feasting and drinking in the taverns. Only sorrow and misery and a bunch of desperate people scattered in neglected streets. - We have to solve this! - He was resolute. - It’s that so? - Mockingly replied his wife. - Athena, you said they were coming across the sea ... Poseidon, move your ass there immediately and stop them. Or at least slow them down... Katerina Charisi, Gordana Mudri, Natasa Tsitsiridaki - What do you want me to do? To soak them together with the ships?! - Do what you want, but stop them! Dionysus, how much wine is left? - How much do you need? - Take everything we have and go to the northern bor- der! Hephaestus, go with him! Get the soldiers drunk and trick the guards, let the people pass. Their accumulation here doesn’t make any sense. Apollo, you will follow these people on their way! Take care of them. - On the way where? - Refer them to the north. - Are you crazy! - Cried his wife - Do you think that Æsir in the north will just stand watching while you send all those people their way? Do we need a quarrel with them? Odin will freak out! - Do you have a better idea, Hera? It’s time to awake them. After all, we’ll send Asgard gifts - he continued un- flinchingly. - You don’t think he will lead them up to Asgard?! You