Η επιδημία χολέρας στην Αθήνα του 1854 και ο Παπαδιαμάντης

 

Η επιδημία χολέρας στην Αθήνα του 1854. Θέρισε 3.000 άτομα!

THE ATHENS EPIDEMIC OF CHOLERA IN 1854

Η ΧΟΛΕΡΙΑΣΜΕΝΗ Διήγημα Αλέξανδρος Παπαδιαμάντης   Τὴν κατωτέρω διήγησιν, καθὼς καὶ τὴν ἄλλην, τὴν ἐπιγραφομένην «Τὸ Θαῦμα τῆς Καισαριανῆς», ἤκουσα ἐκ στόματος τῆς παθούσης, ἥτις εἶναι ἡ κυρα-Ρήνη Ἐλευθέραινα, τοῦ ποτὲ Ροδίτη, σεβασμία γερόντισσα Ἀθηναία. “Μὲ εἶχαν παραιτήσει ὅλοι οἱ δικοί μου, ὁ ἄνδρας μου, ὅπως κι ὁ ἀδερφός μου… Εἶχα πανδρευθῆ μικρή, μ᾽ αὐτὸν τὸν μπαρμπα-Λευθέρη, ποὺ βλέπεις, ποὺ κοντεύει τώρα τὰ ὀγδονταπέντε. Θὰ ἦτον ὣς εἴκοσι χρόνια μεγαλύτερος ἀπὸ μένα. Τόσο μικρὴ καὶ τόσο ἄκακη καὶ ἄγνωστη* ἤμουν, κορίτσι δεκατριῶν χρονῶν. Ἐκεῖνος μ᾽ ἔπαιρνε στὰ γόνατά του, καὶ μ᾽ ἐφίλευε καραμέλες. Θὰ ἦτον τριαντάρης τότε. Ἐγὼ οὔτε ἰδέαν εἶχα ἀπ᾽ αὐτὰ τὰ πράγματα. Σὰν ἦρθε ἡ φοβερὴ χρονιά, ποὺ ἔφερε τὴν κατοχὴ τῶν Ἀγγλογάλλων καὶ τὴν χολέρα· ποὺ βάσταξε τρεῖς μῆνες, κ᾽ ἔπαψε τὴν ἡμέρα τοῦ Ἁγίου Φιλίππου, ὕστερα ἀπὸ μεγάλη λιτανεία καὶ δέηση ποὺ ἔκαμε ὁ λαὸς μὲ τοὺς παπάδες, μὲ τὰ εἰκονίσματα, μὲ Σταυροὺς καὶ μὲ ξεφτέρια· κ᾽ οἱ Ἀγγλογάλλοι φοβέριζαν τὸν βασιλιά μας, τὸν Ὄθωνα, κ᾽ ἐκεῖνος ἦτον κλεισμένος στὸ Παλάτι, μόνο γιὰ νὰ παρηγορῇ τὸν λαὸ ἔβγαινε, καὶ δὲν τὸ κούνησε ἀπὸ τὴν Ἀθήνα, μ᾽ ὅλη τὴν χολέρα καὶ τὸ θανατικό. Κ᾽ ἔβγαιναν τὸν ἀνήφορο οἱ Ἀγγλογάλλοι, πλῆθος πολύ, καβαλαρία, Δραγῶνοι τοὺς λέγανε, καὶ φαντάροι, ποὺ φοροῦσαν κάτι πουτούρια*, καὶ τοὺς λέγανε Ζουάβους· κι ἄλλοι μὲ κατακόκκινες γιακέτες, κάτι φοβεροί, θεόρατοι, ἄνδρες ὣς κεῖ πάνω, μὲ ἄντζες γυμνές, ποὺ φοροῦσαν κάτι σὰ φουστανέλες· κ᾽ ἔβγαιναν κατὰ τὴν πλατέα, κ᾽ ἐφοβέριζαν τὸν Ὄθωνα. Κι ὅσο τὸν ἐφοβέριζαν οἱ Ἀγγλογάλλοι, τόσο τὸν ἀγαποῦσε ὁ λαός. Κι ὁ βασιλιὰς ἐπονοῦσε τὸν λαό, κ᾽ ἐσκορποῦσε ἐλέη καὶ ψυχικὰ πολλὰ ἀπ᾽ τὸ Παλάτι. Σὰν ἦρθε ἡ χρονιὰ ἐκείνη, ἐμεῖς ἤμαστε πανδρεμένοι τρία χρόνια μπροστά. Ὁ μπαρμπα-Λευθέρης μὲ τὶς καραμέλες μὲ εἶχε καταφέρει. Θὰ ἤμουν δεκαπέντε, ἂς ἤμουν, τὸ πολύ, δεκάξι χρονῶν, ὅταν ἔγινε ἡ στεφάνωση. Ἐκεῖνος θὰ ἦτον παραπάνω ἀπὸ τριάντα. Τότε, σὰν ἦρθε τὸ κακό, χολεριάσθηκα κ᾽ ἐγώ. Εἶχα γεννήσει ὀλίγους μῆνες μπροστὰ τὴν μοναχοκόρη, τὴν Κατίγκω μου, αὐτὴ ποὺ βλέπεις. Σὰν μ᾽ ἔπιασαν οἱ ἐμετοί, καὶ τ᾽ ἄλλα τὰ συπτώματα, Θεὸς νὰ φυλάῃ ―μακριὰ ἀπὸ σᾶς― ὁ Λευθέρης, αὐτὸς ποὺ βλέπεις, μ᾽ ἀπαράτησε κ᾽ ἔγινε ἄφαντος. Πέρασαν πολλὲς ὧρες καὶ δὲν ἐφάνη. Ὁ ἀδερφός μου ὁ Θύμιος, κι αὐτός, οὔτε θέλησε νὰ μὲ ζυγώσῃ. Ἐκαθόμουν στὴν ἐνορία τῶν Ἁγίων Ἀποστόλων, σ᾽ ἕνα στενὸ σοκάκι, στὴν Ἀκρόπολη ἀποκάτω. Εἶχα τὸ παιδὶ στὴν κούνια, κ᾽ ἔκλαιε. Ἐγὼ ὑπόφερνα ἀπ᾽ τοὺς πόνους τῆς ἀρρώστιας, κ᾽ ἐδίψαγα φοβερά. Ἐφώναζα νά ᾽ρθῃ κανένας. Ἐζητοῦσα ἕνα ποτήρι νερὸ γιὰ ἔλεος. Κανένας δὲν ἤρχετο. Οἱ γειτόνισσες, ἄλλες εἶχαν φύγει, μὲ τὴν ὥρα τους, στὴν ἐξοχή, κι ἄλλες ἔκαναν τὸν κουφὸ καὶ δὲν ἄκουαν. Μόνον ἕνας γείτονας, ὁ κὺρ Μικέλης ὁ Φουλδάκης, πέρασε τὸ χέρι του ἀπ᾽ τὸ παραθυράκι, καὶ μοῦ ἔρριξε  ένδεκα σβάντζικα*. Ἐγὼ τοῦ φώναζα νὰ μοῦ φέρῃ νερό. Ἀλλά, μοῦ εἶπε, δὲν εἶχε, κ᾽ ἔφυγε. Ἢ δὲν εἶχε ἀληθινά, ἢ φόβος τὸν ἔπιασε, καὶ δὲν ἤθελε ν᾽ ἀργοπορήσῃ σιμά μου, μὴν κολλήσῃ. Καλὰ καὶ τὰ δέκα σβάντζικα. Λεφτὸ δὲν εἶχα. Μὰ εὐχαρίστως θὰ ἔδιδα τὰ δέκα σβάντζικα, γιὰ νὰ μοῦ ἔφερνε κανεὶς ἕνα ποτήρι νερό. Μιὰ ἁρμάθα κυδώνια εἶχα κρεμασμένη στὸν τοῖχο ἀπὸ ἕν᾽ ἀραφάκι. Σηκώθηκα, ἐπῆρα ἕνα, καὶ τὸ μάσησα, γιὰ νὰ ξεδιψάσω. Ὕστερα, σὰν καλύτερα μοῦ φάνηκε νὰ ἦταν ψημένα. Ἔκαμα κουράγιο, ἄναψα φωτιά, κ᾽ ἔψησα δυὸ-τρία καὶ τά ᾽φαγα. Εἶχα κουράγιο. Ἡ καρδιά μου γερή. Ὁ ἐμετὸς μοῦ εἶχε πάψει ἀπὸ ὥρα. Σὰν εἶχα φάγει τὰ κυδώνια, μοῦ φάνηκε πὼς μοῦ ἐκόπη κάπως ἡ δίψα. Ὕστερα πάλι ἐδίψασα χειρότερα. Σηκώθηκα, κ᾽ ἐβγῆκα ἔξω. Ἔκαμα ὀλίγα βήματα στὸ σοκάκι. Ἡ γειτονιὰ ἔρημη. 〈Ὁ〉 κόσμος εἶχε φύγει. Αὐλόπορτες κλεισμένες. Παράθυρα κλειδομανταλωμένα. Ψυχὴ δὲν ἐφαίνετο πουθενά. Ἐπῆγα παραπέρ᾽ ἀκόμα. Ἤξευρα πὼς ἦτον μιὰ βρύση κάπου ἐκεῖ. Ἔφτασα, μὲ μεγάλη ἀδυναμία, μὲ κομμένα γόνατα. Ξέστριψα μὲ κόπο τὴν κάνουλα τῆς βρύσης. Ὤ, συφορά μου! Τὸ νερὸ εἶχε κοπῆ. Σηκώνομαι, σέρνουμαι ἀκόμα παραπέρα… Δὲν θυμᾶμαι ἂν εἶχα πάρει μαζί μου τὸ κορίτσι μου ἀπ᾽ τὴν κούνια…!” Ἐδῶ ἡ ἀφηγουμένη διεκόπη, καὶ προσεπάθει ν᾽ ἀναπολήσῃ. Εἶτα ἐπανέλαβε: “Ναί… ὄχι, δὲν τὸ πῆρα μαζί μου. Εἶχα βγῆ ἔξω γιὰ προσωρινά. Τὸ ἕνα πρῶτο γιὰ νὰ βρῶ νερό, κ᾽ ἔπειτα μὲ τὴν ἐλπίδα ν᾽ ἀπαντήσω κανένα γνώριμο… νὰ τὸν ἐρωτήσω ἂν εἶδε τὸν ἄνδρα μου πουθενά. Χωρὶς ἄλλο, εἶχα σκοπὸ νὰ γυρίσω γρήγορα πίσω, στὸ σπιτάκι μου. Ἐπῆγα παραπέρ᾽ ἀπ᾽ τὴ βρύση, ποὺ δὲν εἶχε νερό. Ἐκεῖ ἀκούω σὰν μουρμουρητό, σὰν σιγανὴ ψαλμῳδία. Ἔφτασα ἀπ᾽ ἔξω ἀπ᾽ τοὺς Ἁγίους Ἀποστόλους. Βλέπω μιὰ μικρὴ καρότσα μὲ τ᾽ ἀλογάκια της ποὺ ἔστεκε παρέκει, σὲ μιὰ γωνιὰ τοῦ δρόμου. Ἡ πόρτα τῆς ἐκκλησιᾶς ἦτον ἀνοικτή. Βλέπω μιὰ γριά. Ἦτον ἡ κλησιάρισσα. Σὰν μὲ εἶδε, φοβήθηκε, κ᾽ ἠθέλησε νὰ κλείσῃ τὴν πόρτα ἀπὸ μέσα. Θὰ κατάλαβε ἀπ᾽ τὴν ὄψη μου πὼς ἤμουν μολεμένη. Σπρώχνω τὴν πόρτα, φωνάζω. ― Λίγο νερό!… δὲν εἶστε χριστιανοί; Εἶδα ποὺ εἶχε δυὸ στάμνες ἀκουμπισμένες ἀπὸ μέσ᾽ ἀπ᾽ τὴν πόρτα, σιμὰ στὸ παγκάρι. Ἡ γριὰ μ᾽ ἐλυπήθηκε, ἐσήκωσε τὴ μιὰ στάμνα, ποὺ φαίνεται νὰ εἶχε λίγο νερό, κάτω ἀπ᾽ τὴ μέση, καὶ μοῦ εἶπε: ― Κάμε τὶς χοῦφτες σου. Ἔκαμα τὶς χοῦφτές μου, τὶς παλάμες μου, βαθουλές, ἔσκυψα, αὐτὴ μοῦ ἔρριχνε ἀπ᾽ ὀλίγ᾽ ὀλίγο νερὸ μὲς στὶς χοῦφτες, κ᾽ ἐγὼ ἔπινα. Μοῦ φάνηκε σὰν ἁγιασμός. Ἀναστήθηκ᾽ ἡ ψυχή μου. Ὕστερα ἡ γριά, σὰν ἐτράβηξε τὴ στάμνα μέσα, ἔκαμε πάλι νὰ σπρώξῃ τὴν πόρτα, γιὰ νὰ μὲ κλείσῃ ἀπ᾽ ἔξω. Ἐγὼ ἔπιασα μὲ τὰ δυὸ χέρια τὸ φύλλο τῆς πόρτας κ᾽ εἶπα: ― Τί κάνουν μέσα; Ἄκουσα σιγανὴ ψαλμῳδία καὶ διάβασμα παπᾶ. ― Βαφτίζουν, μοῦ εἶπε ἡ καλόγρια, μὲ τρόπον ποὺ ἔδειχνε πὼς ἦτον στενοχωρεμένη ποὺ δὲν μποροῦσε νὰ μὲ ἀπομακρύνῃ. Ἐπέρασα τὸ κεφάλι στὸ ἄνοιγμα τῆς πόρτας. Ξαφνίστηκα. Ἔβαλα μιὰ φωνή. Ἐκεῖ μέσα, στὴν ἐκκλησιά, γνώρισα δικούς μου ἀνθρώπους. Ἦτον ὁ Λευθέρης, ὁ ἄνδρας μου, ὁ Στάθης, ὁ αδερφός του, κ᾽ ἡ Στάθαινα, ἡ ἀνδραδέλφη μου, ποὺ εἶχε πάρει εὐχή, καθὼς φαίνεται, πρὶν σαραντίσῃ, κ᾽ ἐβάφτιζαν τὸ μικρό τους, τὴν πρώτη κόρη ποὺ τοῦ εἶχε κάμει ἡ γυναίκα του ἡ νιόνυφη. Ἕνας ἄλλος ἄνθρωπος ἦτον μαζί τους. Αὐτὸς ἦτον ὁ ἁμαξὰς ἐκείνης τῆς καρότσας, ποὺ εἶχα ἰδεῖ νὰ στέκῃ ἀπ᾽ ἔξω ἐκεῖ. Κατάλαβα τί ἔτρεχε. Εἶχαν σκοπὸ νὰ φύγουν ὅλοι τους μαζί, γιὰ κανένα περιβόλι, κ᾽ εἶχαν ἕτοιμο καὶ τὸν ἁμαξὰ μὲ τὴν καρότσα, κι ὁ ἄνδρας μου ποὺ ἔκανε καὶ τὸ νουνό, θὰ πήγαινε, καθὼς φαίνεται, μαζί τους. Πρὶν φύγουν, ἠθέλησαν, σὰν καλοὶ χριστιανοί, νὰ βαφτίσουν τὸ μωρό τους. ― Πῶς ἦρθες; μοῦ ἐφώναξε ὁ ἄνδρας μου σὰν μὲ εἶδε· ποῦ ἄφησες τὸ παιδί; ― Ἐσύ, πῶς μ᾽ ἄφησες ἐμένα; τοῦ λέω. Ἐκείνη τὴ στιγμὴ εἶχε τελειώσει ἡ βάφτιση. Ἐγὼ τοὺς ἔγινα κουνούπι καὶ δὲν ἔφευγα ἀπὸ κοντά τους. Ὁ ἄνδρας μου ἦτον συλλογισμένος. Μ᾽ ἔβλεπαν πὼς μοῦ εἶχε πάψει ὁ ἐμετός, κ᾽ ἐβαστοῦσα καλὰ στὰ πόδια μου. Ἑτοιμάζοντο γιὰ νὰ φύγουν. ― Θά ᾽ρθω κ᾽ ἐγὼ μαζί σας ὅπου πᾶτε! εἶπα ἐγὼ χτυπώντας τὸ κοφτερὸ τοῦ χεριοῦ ἐπάνω στὴν παλάμη μου. ― Σῦρε νὰ φέρῃς τὸ παιδί, μοῦ λέει ὁ ἄνδρας μου. ― Πᾶμε μαζί, τοῦ λέω. Ὁ Λευθέρης ἄρχισε νὰ ξύνεται. Ὁ ἁμαξάς, χωρὶς νὰ τοῦ προτείνῃ κανεὶς τίποτε, ἄρχισε νὰ φέρνῃ δυσκολίες. ― Συφωνήσαμε γιὰ τρεῖς νοματαίους, καὶ τὸ μωρὸ τέσσεροι, καὶ μοῦ δώσατε τί μοῦ δώσατε, τὸν ἄκουσα νὰ λέῃ στὸν ἀνδράδελφό μου. Τώρα οἱ τέσσεροι θὰ γίνουν ἕξι. Δὲν μᾶς παίρν᾽ ἡ καρότσα. Ὁ ἀνδράδελφός μου, τὸν εἶδα ποὺ τοῦ ἔγνεψε μὲ τρόπο, σὰν νὰ ἤθελε νὰ τοῦ πῇ: «Ἡσύχασε, καὶ μή σε μέλῃ… θὰ εἴμαστε ὅσοι εἴμαστε…» Τότ᾽ ἐγὼ ἔβγαλα τὰ ἕνδεκα σβάντζικα, ποὺ μοῦ εἶχε ρίψει ὁ γείτονας ὁ κὺρ Μικέλης, καὶ δὲν εἶχα ξεχάσει νὰ τὰ δέσω καλὰ στὸ κλωνὶ τῆς μανδήλας μου. Σὰν ἄκουσε τὸν κουδουνισμὸ ὁ καροτσέρης, ἐγύρισε κατὰ μένα. ― Νά, ἔχω ἕνδεκα σβάντζικα, εἶπα. Σοῦ τὰ δίνω ὅλα νὰ μὲ πάρῃς κ᾽ ἐμένα μαζί. Ὁ καροτσιέρης ἐζύγωσε πρὸς τὸ μέρος μου. Ξέχασε πὼς ἤμουν χολεριασμένη. Ἔβγαλα τὰ σβάντζικα καὶ τὰ μετροῦσα. ― Νά, πάρε τα καὶ τὰ δέκα, εἶπα, καὶ νὰ μὲ πάρῃς μαζί. Τὴν πρώτη φορὰ εἶχα εἰπεῖ ἕνδεκα· ὕστερα, στὴ στιγμή, τὸ μετάνοιωσα, κ᾽ εἶπα μὲ τὸν ἑαυτό μου: «ἂς κρατήσω κ᾽ ἕνα σβάντζικο, δὲν ξέρω τί γίνεται». Μὰ ὁ ἁμαξὰς εἶχεν ἀκούσει τὰ ἕνδεκα. Ἐπάσκισα ἐγὼ νὰ τὸ κρύψω, τὸ ἕνα, μὲς στὴν παλάμη μου, μὰ ἐκεῖνος τὸ εἶδε. ― Εἶπες ἕνδεκα, εἶπεν ὁ ἁμαξάς. Φέρ᾽ τα ἐδῶ, καὶ θὰ σὲ πάρω. ― Δέκα, εἶπα ἐγώ. ― Φέρ᾽ το καὶ τ᾽ ἄλλο, ἐπέμεινεν ὁ ἁμαξάς. Μοῦ τὰ πῆρε καὶ τὰ ἕνδεκα. Ὁ ἀνδράδελφός μου γύρισε καὶ τοῦ εἶπε: ― Τώρα δὲν ἔλεγες πὼς θὰ πέσουμε πολλοί; ― Μά, ἀφοῦ μᾶς παίρν᾽ ἡ βάρκα! ἀπηλογήθη ὁ ἁμαξάς· ἡ βάρκα χωρεῖ, ἐσᾶς τί σᾶς μέλει; Εἶχαν ἰδεῖ πὼς δὲν εἶχα πλέον ἄσκημα συπτώματα, ἡ ὄψη μου φαίνεται νὰ εἶχε σιάξει, καὶ δὲν ἔδειχναν μεγάλο φόβο. Ἡ ἀνδραδέλφη μου μοῦ ἔρριξε μιὰ ματιά, σὰν νὰ μ᾽ ἐλυπήθη. ― Ἂς ἔρθῃ κι αὐτή, ἡ καημένη, Στάθη, εἶπε τοῦ ἀνδρός της. Κοντολογῆς, ὁ ἄντρας μου, ὁ Λευθέρης, ἔκαμε κουράγιο, ἐπῆγε μόνος του ὣς τὸ σπίτι, ηὗρε τὸ παιδί μας ποὺ ἔκλαιε, τὸ ἐπῆρε καὶ μοῦ τὸ ἔφερε, κι ὀλίγα ρουχικὰ μαζί. Μπαρκάραμε ὅλοι ἀντάμα στὴν καρότσα. Ἐμείναμε δυὸ-τρεῖς μῆνες, μὲ τὸν ἄνδρα μου, σ᾽ ἕνα περιβόλι μιανῆς συγγένισσάς μας, κοντὰ στὸν Ἁι-Γιάννη τοῦ Ρέντη. Ἐκεῖ ἤρχοντο συχνὰ Ἀγγλογάλλοι. Εἶχαν σταθμοὺς ἐκεῖ κοντά. Τοὺς ἔπλυνα τὰ ροῦχα, καὶ μοῦ ἔδιναν ἀσημένια φράγκα. Ἔβλεπαν τὸ κορίτσι μου, τὴν Κατίγκω μου, ποὺ μεγάλωνε σιγὰ-σιγά, κ᾽ ἐκόντευε νὰ χρονίσῃ. Τὴν ἐχάδευαν κ᾽ ἔλεγαν: «Πίκκολο*! πίκκολο!». Ὣς τόσο, ὅταν ἦταν ὅλοι τους μαζί, καβαλαρία, μὲ τὶς περικεφαλαῖές τους, ἐφαίνονταν φοβεροί· χωριστὰ κι ὀλίγοι-ὀλίγοι, ἐφαίνονταν κι αὐτοὶ καλοὶ ἄνθρωποι. Περάσαμε καλά. Ἡ χολέρα ἔφυγε σὲ λίγο. Κοντὰ στὰ Χριστούγεννα, ἤρθαμε στὸ σπίτι μας, στοὺς Ἁγίους Ἀποστόλους, τὸ ηὕραμε ἀπείραχτο, κ᾽ ἐκαθίσαμε μὲ ἀγάπη καὶ εἰρήνη. Ὄχι μόνον εἴχαμε περάσει καλά, ἀλλὰ καὶ κάτι λεφτὰ μοῦ περίσσεψαν ἀπὸ τὶς ὑπηρεσίες ποὺ ἔκανα στοὺς Ἀγγλογάλλους. Ὅταν ἐγυρίσαμε στὴν Ἀθήνα, μέσα, εἶχα σωστὰ ἑκατὸν δέκα φράγκα ἀσημένια. Μοῦ φάνηκε, τὰ ἕνδεκα σβάντζικα, ποὺ εἶχα δώσει τρεῖς μῆνες μπροστὰ στὸν καροτσιέρη, πὼς τὰ εἶχα σπείρει στὴ γῆς κ᾽ ἐκαρποφόρησαν τὸ δεκαπλάσιο.” (1901)

A CHOLERA AFFECTED WOMAN Alexandros Papadiamantis Rendered by Bασίλης Μηλίτσης/ Vassilis C. Militsis Foreword  The epidemic of cholera in Athens (1854) belongs to the third cholera pandemic (1839-1856), which started from Bengal (India) in 1839, spread worldwide to Middle East, Russia, struck the Western Europe and furthermore North and Latin America. In 1854, the pandemic moved from France to Greece and Turkey, by French troops returning from the Crimean War. Cholera first affected the port of Piraeus and soon reached Athens. In 1854–59, following the Crimean War, Piraeus was occupied by the Anglo-French fleet allegedly to forestall Greek expansionist intentions. I have heard the following story, and another one, known as The Kaissariani Miracle, from the mouth of madam-Rini Eleftheraina, the disease victim and the wife of an inhabitant of Rhodes, now a venerable Athenian matron. “I was deserted by all my kin – my husband, my brother… I got married to this man, uncle-Leftheri, who, you see, is nearly eighty-five. He must have been twenty years my senior. I was so young, naïve and obscure – a thirteen year-old girl. He used to make me sit in his lap and treat me to sweets. I was completely ignorant of such things. ”Then that horrible year of 1854 during the British-French occupation of Athens and Piraeus brought the cholera. The bane persisted for three months and petered out on St Philip’s feast after a big religious procession of both clergy and laymen praying and bearing the Holy icons, the Crosses and the church standards; and the British-French troops threatened King Otto, who was shut up in his palace and came out only to comfort the people. Despite the cholera and the deadly plague, he would not budge out of Athens. And the troops and the cavalry – they were called dragoons – were marching up, in multitudes; the Zouaves, foot soldiers, wore large, baggy trousers, and others again were dressed in scarlet jackets. They were giants of men, wearing kilts and leaving their calves uncovered. And they were always threatening King Otto. And the more the British-French troops raged at the king, the more the people loved him. And the king felt for his subjects and was generous and charitable from the Palace. Zouaves I had been married to uncle-Leftheris three years before that time. Uncle Leftheris had seduced me with his sweetmeats. I must have been around fifteen or sixteen at most at the time of our wedding; he must certainly have been over thirty. ”When the scourge of the disease broke out, I contracted the cholera. A few months before I had given birth to Katingo, my only daughter, the one in front of you. As soon as I started throwing up and felt the symptoms of the disease, God help us – and far from you – Leftheris, my husband, left me and disappeared. I’d waited long hours for him, but he never came back. Not even Thymios, my brother, dared come near me. ”I was staying in a narrow alley, right under the Acropolis, in the parish of St Apostles. I had to look after the child in the cradle; she was crying. I suffered from the pains of the illness and I was horribly thirsty. I was shouting for help, but none came. My female neighbors had left for the countryside, and those that had stayed behind turned a deaf ear.  Vibrio Cholerae ”Only master Michalis Fouldakis, a neighbor put his hand through the small window and threw eleven svanzicas to me. I was begging for water, but he said he didn’t have and left; either he had no water or he was afraid of catching the disease if he lingered by me. ”Anyway, I was grateful for his svanzicas, because I was skint. But I would gladly have given them away for a glass of water  Svanzicas ”Then I saw a string of quince that hung from a small shelf. I rose, took one and chewed on it to quench my thirst. Then I thought they’d have tasted better roasted. I mustered my courage, built a fire, roasted two or three and ate them. ”I had stamina. My heart was healthy. I hadn’t vomiting for some time. After eating the quince, it seemed to me that my thirst had somehow been appeased, though later I was all parched. I got out of my bed and went out. I walked a short distance in the alley. The neighborhood was deserted. Not a soul; the gates were shut and the windows locked and barred. Everybody had left. ”I ventured a bit farther. I knew there was a public tap around there. I reached it totally exhausted on shaky legs. I turned it on with difficulty, but alas! The water supply had been cut off. I trudged on still further… I don’t remember if I had taken along my baby girl from her cradle!” At this point she stopped and tried to retrace her recollections, and then resumed her story: “Let me think… no, I hadn’t taken her with me. I only went out in the hope of finding some water to drink and meeting somebody I knew so I could ask him if he’d seen my husband some place. Then I was about to go back home; yet I walked on a little more from the dry tap when I heard a kind of murmuring chanting. I was outside the St Apostles Church. I saw a small coach with two horses harnessed to it way off in the corner of the street. The church door was open. I saw an old woman. She was the verger. As soon as she saw me, she got such a scare as she was about to shut the door on me from inside. She must have seen my face and realized I was infected. I pushed the door and cried out: ‘some water! On your Christian mercy!’ I saw two clay pitchers by the door near the candle counter. The old woman took pity on me, lifted the pitcher that appeared to be half-full and said: “Cup your palms.” I cupped my palms together, stooped, while she poured and I drank in handfuls. That water was an elixir to me. I was revived. Then the old woman pulled the jar in and she had nearly closed the door on my face and in order to leave me outside. ‘What’s going on in there?’ I asked as I had heard a soft chanting and the priest’s reading. ‘There’s a christening,’ replied the old woman anxiously because she couldn’t drive me away. I put my head through the gap was taken aback at what I saw. I couldn’t help shouting. There, inside the church there were my people; my husband, Leftheris, his brother, Stathis with his wife, who, though still in confinement after her childbirth, was allowed by the priest to be present at the christening of their first born daughter. There was also another man with them: the cabby of the coach that was waiting outside. Then it dawned upon me what they had in mind. They were going someplace in the country [apparently to flee the epidemic] and as my husband was the godfather was also going with them. That’s why they had hired the coach. Before they left, they were duty-bound, like good Christians, to christen their baby. ”‘How come you’re here?’ my husband scolded me; ‘where have you left our child?’ ‘How come you’ve left me all alone?’ I answered back. At that moment the service was over, but I wouldn’t leave. I stuck to them like a leech. My husband grew thoughtful. They could all see me that I wasn’t queasy and I could stand on my feet. They were about to leave. ” ‘I’m coming with you where you’re going!’ I said banging a fist on my palm. ‘All right,’ said my husband. ‘Go fetch the child.’ ‘I won’t unless you come with me,’ I replied. ”Leftheris began to scratch his head in hesitation. The coachman raised objections: ‘I’ve been hired to carry three passengers plus the baby,’ I heard him say to my brother-in-law; ‘now the passengers will be six. The coach can’t take in so many.’ I saw my brother-in-law wink at him as though he meant: ‘Don’t worry; we’ll stick to our agreement.’ ”It was then that I produced the eleven svanzicas master Michalis, the neighbor, had thrown to me, which I hadn’t failed to make a knot of them in my kerchief. On hearing the jingle of the coins, the coachman turned to me questioningly. ‘Here,’ I told him,’ I’ve got eleven svanzicas; they’re all yours if you take me with you.’ The cabby drew near me, ignoring the fact that I was infected by the cholera. I took out the coins and was counting them. ” ‘Here,’ I said; ‘you can have all ten provided you take me along.’ At first I admitted having eleven but immediately I regretted saying it, telling to myself: ‘I’d better keep at least one coin in case of something extra comes up.’ The coachman, however, had heard me saying about eleven coins, and I was trying real hard to hide one in my palm, but he saw it. ‘You said you had eleven,’ he insisted; ‘hand them over and then I’ll take you along.’ ‘Then,’ I started bargaining. ‘Give me the other, too.’ He was adamant. ” So he took all eleven. My brother-in-law turned to him: ‘Haven’t you just said,’ he complained, ‘that we’re too many?’ ‘The boat can take us all!’ the coachman recanted. ‘As long as there’s enough room in my boat, what’s your problem?’ ”The others saw that I no longer had bad symptoms and my countenance appeared to have greatly improved, so they weren’t so much afraid. My sister-in-law took a pitiful look at me and said to her husband: ‘Let the poor woman come with us, Stathis.’ ”To cut a long story short, Leftheris volunteered to go home himself, found our daughter crying, and brought her to me with some clothing. ”We all embarked on the coach and drove off. My husband and I stayed at a farmhouse for a couple of months. The house belonged to a woman, a relative of ours, near St John of Renti [a suburb of Piraeus]. The Anglo-French soldiers would often visit us as their camp was nearby. I used to do their laundry and they paid me with silver coins. They would also look at Katingo, my daughter, who was growing up – she was nearly one year old – and say: ‘Piccolo! Piccolo!’ when, however, were all together, on their horses and wore their helmets looked awesome. As individuals, they appeared to be ordinary, good people. We made the most of our time in the country. The cholera epidemic ebbed away and died out. Around Christmas we went back to our St Apostles house, which we found intact and made home in love and peace. ”Not only had we enjoyed our time in the countryside, but also I’d saved some money – one hundred and ten silver coins in all – working for the Anglo-French soldiers. ”It seemed to me that the eleven svanzicas, by giving them to the cabby three months before, were so in reality sown in fertile soil and they yielded tenfold. (1901) Cholera  ΠΗΓΗ ΑΝΑΡΤΗΣΗΣ/SOURCE  : http://diiphilo.blogspot.com