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In the meantime, Leo had to leave Salonica. At first he had to hide in the villages of Aghia Triada. My brother knew a boatman whom they called ‘black,’ because he was very dark. So Leo went to Aghia Triada and there he rented a room. He spoke German, went openly to coffee shops and the Germans didn’t know he was a Jew. On the other hand the peasants watched him speaking German with the Germans and thought that he may be a German spy and they brought him figs and grapes so he would not turn them in to the Germans. He was scared.
Leo was audacious. Once we went on a boat to take a ride to the big Karabournou. We never reached it. In the meantime it became dark and there was a blackout. The peasants got worried. We were still somewhere in the Thermaic Gulf, and to think that all we wanted to do is take a ride.
I had two Armenian girlfriends, who were acquainted with the Italian consulate, Rosel and Meliné, and they told us that if we gave a sum of money to the Italians – I don’t know who took the money in the end – he [Leo] could go to Athens which was under Italian occupation, and the Germans hadn’t reached it. Indeed, one day they called on Leo and handcuffed they took him out of the Italian consulate and to the train station. On the train to Platamon they took of the handcuffs and told him he was free. We considered the Italians our friends not enemies: ‘Una faccia una razza’ [Italian proverb commonly used in Greek, meaning ‘one face, one race’].
This is how we moved to Athens, to Nea Ionia. We were led there by a woman who agreed being promised a loaf of bread as a reward. But when we finally went there I also gave her beans and wheat. She was overwhelmed with happiness. There was serious hunger in Athens. Almost every week I had to bring them food provisions from Salonica.
It was in Athens where the two brothers of Leo were hidden. This is where they accidentally met in the street. At first Leo stayed in the house of an uncle of mine called Notis Papadopoulos. His wife, Christina Klonaridi, and he had a son called Mimis from Dimitris, which was his grandfather’s name. This child from the time he was four years old had a heart and kidney problem because of his tonsils. When this bad thing happened Mimis didn’t want to play, go to school, he couldn’t get excited or laugh.
I went to visit them regularly to take provisions to them, but Leo had to leave from there because one evening a friend of my uncle’s came and said, ‘Quickly, Kostas has to leave this place.’ He had issued for him two false identity cards in the names of Nikos Raftopoulos and Kostas Mavromatis. The Raftopoulos one was real, it belonged to my aunt’s husband. The other one was issued from the 2nd Police Precinct of Salonica. It was a false name on a false identity card. They knew he was a Jew, but they wanted to help him. Many Jews issued false identity cards at the time. Someone who wanted to get back to my uncle, turned in Leo. Of course I was surprised because my uncle was a good person, a saint. It could be that it was a bad neighbor.
A little while before the Germans showed up to blockade the area, my uncle’s friend came and told them to leave. I remember it was at night just before curfew time. Luckily the house had two doors, one good one and another one that led to a small passage that led to a small bridge that took you to Patission Street [the longest street in Athens]. So we both left in the dark, there was a blackout and there was no moonlight either. My husband held me, and we walked very slowly so that I wouldn’t fall into the river. That’s how we, step by step, got to the little bridge; it was the first time we took this road. It was completely deserted, not a soul on the road.
Where should we go? Should we go to Adela – her father and mother were siblings of my husband – her surname was Mano. She lived with her Christian husband. Adela was a Spanish citizen. For us to get to Athens was very difficult, a long way and there was no road from Nea Ionia to Skoufa Street in Athens. We did not have anywhere else to go.
Zermain with her brother Jacko, Leo’s nephews – they too lived in a house, they were the children of Albertos Abravanel. I used to take some food to the people we knew in Athens. Luckily while on excursions or swimming, or in the Langada Thermae with friends, my husband had met someone called Sotiris Christianos, who lived in Athens, on Koliatsou Street and my husband had once gone to his house. Luckily, he remembered the house, even though it was in a small street, and we knocked at the door – it was past midnight.
We had set off to go to Adela’s house but ended up in the house of Christianos, that was his family name. We knocked on the door, someone from inside jumped out and asked, ‘Who is it?’ ‘Leo,’ my husband answered. As soon as he heard the name he opened the door and took us inside.
He started asking how come we were there at this hour, and says to Leo, ‘This is where you will stay.’ He kept him there for a long time, two months. I was commuting. He lived in a house of two rooms with his wife and daughter. And he gave Leo his daughter’s room; he pulled her out of bed literally to give it to us. Sotiris, he is the one who saved us.
Leo was audacious. Once we went on a boat to take a ride to the big Karabournou. We never reached it. In the meantime it became dark and there was a blackout. The peasants got worried. We were still somewhere in the Thermaic Gulf, and to think that all we wanted to do is take a ride.
I had two Armenian girlfriends, who were acquainted with the Italian consulate, Rosel and Meliné, and they told us that if we gave a sum of money to the Italians – I don’t know who took the money in the end – he [Leo] could go to Athens which was under Italian occupation, and the Germans hadn’t reached it. Indeed, one day they called on Leo and handcuffed they took him out of the Italian consulate and to the train station. On the train to Platamon they took of the handcuffs and told him he was free. We considered the Italians our friends not enemies: ‘Una faccia una razza’ [Italian proverb commonly used in Greek, meaning ‘one face, one race’].
This is how we moved to Athens, to Nea Ionia. We were led there by a woman who agreed being promised a loaf of bread as a reward. But when we finally went there I also gave her beans and wheat. She was overwhelmed with happiness. There was serious hunger in Athens. Almost every week I had to bring them food provisions from Salonica.
It was in Athens where the two brothers of Leo were hidden. This is where they accidentally met in the street. At first Leo stayed in the house of an uncle of mine called Notis Papadopoulos. His wife, Christina Klonaridi, and he had a son called Mimis from Dimitris, which was his grandfather’s name. This child from the time he was four years old had a heart and kidney problem because of his tonsils. When this bad thing happened Mimis didn’t want to play, go to school, he couldn’t get excited or laugh.
I went to visit them regularly to take provisions to them, but Leo had to leave from there because one evening a friend of my uncle’s came and said, ‘Quickly, Kostas has to leave this place.’ He had issued for him two false identity cards in the names of Nikos Raftopoulos and Kostas Mavromatis. The Raftopoulos one was real, it belonged to my aunt’s husband. The other one was issued from the 2nd Police Precinct of Salonica. It was a false name on a false identity card. They knew he was a Jew, but they wanted to help him. Many Jews issued false identity cards at the time. Someone who wanted to get back to my uncle, turned in Leo. Of course I was surprised because my uncle was a good person, a saint. It could be that it was a bad neighbor.
A little while before the Germans showed up to blockade the area, my uncle’s friend came and told them to leave. I remember it was at night just before curfew time. Luckily the house had two doors, one good one and another one that led to a small passage that led to a small bridge that took you to Patission Street [the longest street in Athens]. So we both left in the dark, there was a blackout and there was no moonlight either. My husband held me, and we walked very slowly so that I wouldn’t fall into the river. That’s how we, step by step, got to the little bridge; it was the first time we took this road. It was completely deserted, not a soul on the road.
Where should we go? Should we go to Adela – her father and mother were siblings of my husband – her surname was Mano. She lived with her Christian husband. Adela was a Spanish citizen. For us to get to Athens was very difficult, a long way and there was no road from Nea Ionia to Skoufa Street in Athens. We did not have anywhere else to go.
Zermain with her brother Jacko, Leo’s nephews – they too lived in a house, they were the children of Albertos Abravanel. I used to take some food to the people we knew in Athens. Luckily while on excursions or swimming, or in the Langada Thermae with friends, my husband had met someone called Sotiris Christianos, who lived in Athens, on Koliatsou Street and my husband had once gone to his house. Luckily, he remembered the house, even though it was in a small street, and we knocked at the door – it was past midnight.
We had set off to go to Adela’s house but ended up in the house of Christianos, that was his family name. We knocked on the door, someone from inside jumped out and asked, ‘Who is it?’ ‘Leo,’ my husband answered. As soon as he heard the name he opened the door and took us inside.
He started asking how come we were there at this hour, and says to Leo, ‘This is where you will stay.’ He kept him there for a long time, two months. I was commuting. He lived in a house of two rooms with his wife and daughter. And he gave Leo his daughter’s room; he pulled her out of bed literally to give it to us. Sotiris, he is the one who saved us.
Period
Interview
Eugenia Abravenel