6-The Teacher-piec
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Transcript of 6-The Teacher-piec
247
6
The Teacher
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Why
lobalization,” his teacher had said during their last
meeting. And he had wondered, “Globalization?! What in
the world does it mean?” “It means that we will all become one,
whites will marry blacks, Jews will marry Germans, cockroaches
will mate with octopi and I’ll end up with Kiki!”
He was trying to spot Kiki among the crowd that had
gathered on the pier to meet the boat arriving at Poros. He
was coming home from his last trip. “Home at last!” Mimis
was a nautical engineer and after thirty years of travelling by
sea, he had decided that it was time to retire. He would start
receiving his pension and planned on opening a small boiler
sales and repair shop that would service the island homes. He
and Kiki had come up with the plan over the phone a few days
ago, while he was still in Africa. But where was Kiki now to
help him with his luggages? He wanted to give her a hug and
celebrate his return home for good. They may not have been
most compatible couple, but his long time absences only made
the heart grow fonder, and every time he returned it was her
warm bosom that he always thought of as his true harbor.
He had brought her presents and other little things that she
had requested for herself and the children, but she was nowhere
to be seen. He piled his boxes and suitcases into Kostas’s cab all
by himself. Kostas was the only one on hand to welcome him
home. They had known each other since they were boys, having
grown up on the island together.
His sister-in-law Roula was at home to greet him when he
got there. She had been recently widowed and had come to live
with her sister to help out with the children. He scooped his two
children into his arms and held them tight. He embraced Roula
as well, whose bosom was as warm as his wife’s. The children
hung off him as he tore open the boxes to give them the toys he
had brought them, while asking Roula:
“Where’s Kiki?”
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Why
“Mimis, Kiki went to Athens to visit a gynecologist there,”
Roula said.
“Just like that, out of the blue? I spoke to her yesterday and
she didn’t mention anything to me.”
“Kourtis the gynecologist came to the island . . .”
“The son of Kourtis who owned the pharmacy?”
“Yes, that’s him Mimis.”
“And he’s my teacher Kourtis’s nephew right?”
“Yes Mimis, exactly,” Roula said nervously. “Kiki had
been having some trouble while you were gone and she went
to see him to get his opinion. As you know, there’s no other
gynecologist on the island.”
“Kiki’s been having gynecological problems while I
was gone? How’s that possible?” Miki asked, furrowing his
brow. “Why didn’t she say anything to me? We spoke just
yesterday . . .”
“I know Mimis but you can’t talk to men about things
like this, and especially not over the phone. Don’t you
understand?”
“Alright, she went to see the doctor and where is she
now?”
“Last night she was in pain again and experienced some
bleeding. She went to see Kourtis early in the morning and he
told her to go to Athens immediately so that he could examine
her in his clinic. She caught the eight o’clock Flying Dolphin
boat to Piraeus this morning and didn’t have time to let you
know. Sit down and I’ll make you some coffee. She should be
calling any minute now. I’m anxious to hear how things went
too,” Roula said kindly, trying to get him to show that he had
understood.
Roula was younger and prettier than her sister. He had
chosen Kiki because she was the wilder of the two and knew how
to swear! Mimis had just graduated from the Naval Academy
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Why
when he first saw her on the road with her friends as they were
on their way back from the beach. As Mimis was driving by on
his motorbike he reached out and undid her bikini top. Kiki
suddenly found herself topless in front of everyone, who broke
out in cheers and spontaneous applause.
“Go to hell you rookie bastard,” she yelled.
“We’ll go there together,” he answered back, celebrating his
prank.
And they did. A little while later he went to her parents and
asked for her hand in marriage. Her mother didn’t like him, but
her father appreciated Mimis’s Navy job because he knew that
he would have a steady income and future because of it. And so
he agreed. Kiki was coy at first but she didn’t want to end up an
old maid either. She knew that he would be away at sea most of
the time anyway and so she said yes.
“Why hasn’t she called yet?” Mimis asked glancing at his
watch.
At that moment the phone rang. Roula answered and then
passed him the receiver.
“It’s for you Mimis,” she said.
As soon as he put the phone up to his ear he heard the
excited voice of one of his old classmates shouting:
“Hey Mimis, my man, It’s me, Vangelis the shipping tycoon,
remember me?”
Vangelis the “tycoon” was one of his former classmates who,
after leaving the Navy, had invested some of his wife’s money
in a business that rented out a small number of yachts. That’s
how he had earned the nickname “tycoon.” He lived in Kastela
all year long and had taken it upon himself to round up all the
boys from their class of the Naval Academy each year, usually
in summer, for a reunion.
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Why
“You’ve got to come to the Skouna tavern tonight—no
excuses. Lots of people are going to be there. Kourtis and
Argyriou the gym teacher said they’d show up.”
These kinds of reunions happened frequently. For some
reason, the experiences that they had shared during their youth,
at the Naval Academy of Poros, had created a strong bond
between them and they saw each other more like brothers.
Those who didn’t run into each other in the course of working
on the ships never missed a night of wine and merriment at
the tavern. If it was mentioned that “Kourtis would be there,”
even more of them showed up. Kourtis had been their math
teacher but he had bonded with most of the boys outside of
class as well, because as they said, he taught them to live. For
this reason his students still called him “Teacher” even until
now, or “Bobby,” which was his first name. Back then he was
young and intelligent with a thirst for knowledge; he was a man
of philosophy whose lesson extended far beyond the school
subject that he was teaching. Just imagine that although the
military Junta was governing the country then, he dared to slip
other books into the math textbook and sneak them into the
classroom undetected. He introduced them to Kazantzakis,
Cavafy and Kavvadias. Mimis agreed with most of what he
taught them, but he had observed him carefully from the
beginning and he saw something in him—some small aspects
of his personality that he considered to be strange. Most of
his classmates swore by his advice and he too had gone to ask
his opinion at crucial junctures in his life, even after having
graduated. When he was thinking about leaving the Navy and
going to work as an engineer for commercial ships, he sought
him out. He called him up and asked him if they could meet up.
Kourtis responded by saying:
“Come by the racetrack on Wednesday afternoon.”
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Why
“The race track? What are we going to do there?” Mimis
had asked.
“What do you think people do at the racetrack Mimis? I go
and bet on a horse or two, it adds a little spice to my life.”
That wasn’t all. As a school boy he had heard rumors
that the headmaster wanted to fire him because he played
poker with the dock workers and kept company with some
women—English tourists—who would end up staying all winter
on Poros. Mimis would think, “just a second there, buddy. You
teach us these supposedly profound life lessons every morning,
and then you’re off to gamble at the race track and the poker
table?” Those were the doubts he had about the Teacher, but
would never miss a reunion nonetheless.
So even today, he confirmed that he would be present at
the gathering even though he had come in late and Kiki was
still not back yet nor had she called. Both he and Roula were
starting to get worried. She wasn’t answering on her mobile
phone and the doctor wasn’t picking up at his office either. He
went down to the tavern to say a quick hello but wanted to get
home early. Mimis mentioned in passing to his friends that his
wife had gone to visit the Teacher’s nephew but that she wasn’t
back yet and was worried.
“Weren’t you the one who was always off at sea?” the
Teacher asked him.
“Yeah sure, I’m a sailor, where else would I have been?”
Mimis said. “That’s why Kiki married me in the first place.”
“Then listen up, it was Kazantzakis who said that ‘a woman
who sleeps alone brings shame on all mankind’.”
“So now you tell me Teacher, after I’ve given up the sea!”
Mimis responded.
He continued as if he hadn’t heard Mimis’s quip.
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Why
“You’d better watch out because my nephew the doctor is
quite a rascal,” the Teacher said suspiciously. “Don’t say I didn’t
warn you!”
What could he say to that? He got up and ran out. They
badgered the police and everybody else they could think of, but
Kiki did not appear not even the next day, or the next week, or
the next month. Why? Because she had abandoned her husband
and children to run off with the gynecologist.
The thing that bothered him the most was the timing of
Kiki’s betrayal. He didn’t waste any time before falling into the
next available pair of arms, that of his sister-in-law. She gave
in without making much of a fuss and was pleased even more
than him. She was jealous of her sister and had always liked
Mimis.
If the truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he had strayed
from Kiki and was unfaithful. Every summer when he returned
from the ship for vacation, Kiki—who was particularly social
and outgoing—would gather all her friends from Athens to
Poros and invite them to stay in their home. He in turn, the
young and handsome sailor, would show them Poros’s beauties
as well as some of his own. As if he could pass up an opportunity
like that! Once, his mother-in-law, who didn’t like him, caught
him in the act just as he was planting a kiss on a pretty blonde.
Mimis didn’t let it go by without defending himself. He cleared
his name only as sailors know how. A few days later he took
the kids swimming along with the old bag. She was in the sea
when his son came running up to him saying, “Dada, come
quick! Grandma’s drowning!” He ran into the sea and instead
of pulling her out, he dealt her a blow to the head that sent her
right back under. When he saw that she had stopped moving,
he started to shout for help and everyone came running to
save her but, to no avail. Nobody could bring her round and
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Why
the poor old woman suffered from asthma to boot! That was
Mimis’s way.
* * * At the next class outing, Mimis sat across from the Teacher
who asked him at some point:
“So what was the story with your wife and the doctor,
Mimis?”
He bit his lip at first, but then decided that he had to get
even with this smart-ass. The Teacher was married now and
lived the quiet life of retirement, outside of Tripolis, tending to
his father-in-law’s olive grove. The best man at his wedding had
been one of his former students. The boy had never been strong
academically but was a great football player. The Teacher was a
huge football fan.
“Teacher, I have a parrot that I brought back from Africa.
Do you know what I taught him to say? That line that you used
to quote from a poem by Cavafy: “another city will be found,
better than this one.”
“Mimis, that’s not the exact meaning of the poem, you have
to read the before and after . . . It’s about a person who’s looking
for happiness in all the wrong places,” the Teacher corrected
him.
“Don’t start lecturing me on happiness now Teacher! What
is happiness anyway? Wasn’t it you who told us that ‘happiness is
living all of life’s sorrows,’ just as Kazantzakis says in Asceticism?
Well that’s what I’m doing!”
Mimis’s father, who was born and bred on Poros, had
enrolled him in the Naval Academy when he was thirteen
years old. Around that time he had started to blow off school
for friends and motorbikes. His obsession with motorbikes was
the reason that his father decided to send him to a boarding
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Why
school so that he could become a nautical engineer. According
to Mimis, he was the greatest martyr of all time for enduring it.
He didn’t see it as a school, but as a prison. He thought about
running away; he planned to swim across to the Peloponnese
and disappear. There was nowhere he could go on the island
without someone he knew recognizing him. His second plan
was to be so unruly that they’d kick him out themselves. His
mother intervened by saying, “listen up kiddo, you had better
behave because if you don’t, your father’s going to load you
straight onto a commercial fishing boat as a deck hand.” He
wasn’t sure if that would be worse than what he was currently
living, but his mother’s tone scared him into submission. He
crouched into a corner and decided to submit to his fate. He
dreamed of wearing a Navy uniform and travelling to foreign
countries and cities. He would find other ports as well as new
people, who were quite different from the harsh brass hats that
were giving him a hard time now.
Everyone outside of the Navy Academy called Mimis “rice
pilaf,” even when he left school for a day, because that was
mostly what they ate in the dreary dining hall, day in, day out.
Well sometimes they did get some oven-baked cod or over
boiled potatoes. The punishing army drills had knocked the
stuffing out of him, leaving him humiliated beyond belief. The
school may have tried to enforce military-style discipline but
the boys were young—thirteen to sixteen years old—and many
of them found it difficult to cope. For no apparent reason, they
might find themselves measuring the running track with a
matchstick, or jumping like a kangaroo, or walking like a duck.
It was absolutely mortifying. Mimis could remember hellish
nights when, after the boys were already in their pyjamas, they
would have them hold out their pillows like shields. Then they
would shout “one, two, three, down,” which was an order for
them to jump three times then sink into a low squat, and then
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Why
the sequence was repeated, for as long as they could possibly
keep going.
To make matters worse they had assigned authority to
the older students who took great pleasure in torturing the
new recruits, or “fresh fish” as they were called. Other than
making sure that they had a good time themselves, the older
boys cruelly singled out the weaker kids and picked on them
to the point where they sometimes even left the Academy. If
one of the younger recruits got on their bad side they assigned
punishment, which usually meant doing hard manual labor
three times a day. The tasks were usually scrubbing pots in
the mess hall, cleaning the school and mainly cleaning the
“John”—there was no getting out of that. It was not uncommon
for the older boys to occasionally choose a victim whom they
would terrify in a manner befitting the victim’s character and
sometimes even at night when he was trying to sleep. They
would back him into a corner and beat him to a pulp. In terms
of harshness, the beatings dealt out by navy boys surpassed
even that which would be dealt by the most wicked warship
officer or captain. It far surpassed the logic and substance of
military regulation. Squealing, betrayal and cunning tricks were
part and parcel of most of the older students’ behavior, of those
had been assigned authority. These horror stories would spread
throughout the school to the other students, who constantly
experienced fear and panic, and remained stiffly alert at all
times. One drill followed another: parade drill, deck call drill,
drill with a weapon, without a weapon, there was no end to the
ordeal. And when they were getting ready to get on-board a
ship as part of their training, the suffering of being in uniform
began. They had to wash and iron their clothes, crease their
pants, and press their pea jackets. Their sword belts had to be
buffed and their hats starched, their shoes polished until they
shone.
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Why
This situation exceeded the limits of military training and
education. The thirteen year old boys felt that they were being
tormented and had terrible nightmares while they slept. And
yet the Teacher, Bobby, whom everyone adored, had not said
one word about it; he had not done a thing to put an end to this
wickedness.
However Mimis had conceived a way of dealing with this
from the very beginning. It had to do with some of the younger
students who had banded together to form a clique. Or perhaps
it was really the Teacher who had formed this clique from a
select group of students whom he had chosen in accordance
with his own inclinations—students to whom he gave
preferential treatment and responsibilities. One of the most
significant privileges, for those chosen few, was that he gathered
them at the house which he had rented on the island during the
Sundays that they were on leave, and permitted them to smoke.
Smoking was strictly forbidden both in the Academy and
outside it. Anyone caught smoking was automatically given the
manual labor punishment or even expelled. Despite the harsh
rule, most of the students smoked. Even the older students
smoked, despite the fact that one of their duties was to punish
anyone caught smoking. That is how the Teacher’s little group
of students—who called him Bobby—during their Sunday
discussions, felt special and privileged. They felt invincible,
going so far as to say that Bobby offered them smokes himself.
Whatever plans they talked about or concocted during these
meetings was never known. There may have been some covert
dalliances with girls, because some of the boys returned to
school looking awfully pleased. Bobby bent the rules for them
and this is why they loved him.
Mimis himself never smoked, but then again he wasn’t the
Teacher’s first or even second pick. Once, when one of his select
group of students was caught smoking and brought before the
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Why
teacher’s board, Bobby advocated the toughest punishment.
The other students reacted, asking him, “why were you the one
demanding that he receive the strictest punishment?” His reply
was unbelievable.
“I fought for the boy to be allowed to come before the
Teacher’s council and I fought for him to be given the chance
to defend himself before the final ruling and punishment was
assigned. Meaning, we can’t teach you about what’s fair and
democratic as well as about the rights of each person, and then
make decisions that don’t follow the same ethic. What I did
was stand up for your rights. After having convinced the other
teachers of this, the boy came in to testify and said: “I don’t have
anything to say about what I did.” That’s all the numbskull had
to say, the first time we let a student defend himself! Now do
you understand?”
They understood but they didn’t forgive him for it. He was
telling this story to Roula, with whom he had started a new life.
She listened attentively, “tsk tsking” in moments of indignance
and saying “oh oh oh” when what she heard unsettled her. It had
been some time since Mimis had started his boiler repair and
sales business but he wasn’t very busy. Poros didn’t have much
cold weather so the boilers were not in need of repair that often,
not to mention that the older houses didn’t even have boilers. In
moments like these, he would come down with an awful case of
“cabin fever.” This was a condition—a kind of boredom—that
befell sailors trapped in the steel cabin of the ship’s belly on the
fourth day of their journey after having left the port. But “cabin
fever” on dry land had a somewhat opposite effect; it made one
want to leave. This arose from the feeling that only sailors made
sense and people on dry land were boring and tedious.
Roula, who had learned to read his moods, understood this
and one day she said to him, “why don’t you sell our parrot?”
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Why
“Why would I sell the African parrot who knows how to
recite Cavafy? Do you know how much that bird is worth?”
“That’s why you should sell it, because he’s worth something.
People ask you for him all the time in any case.”
“And then what? I’ll be left without a parrot,” Mimis said
dejectedly.
“Get another parrot,” Roula said simply.
She was a smart woman who had a way of convincing
him to do things. She was especially persuasive when she said,
“Ithaca has already given you the beautiful journey . . . but it
doesn’t have anything more to give.”
“Where’d you hear that?” he asked her one day.
“In one of the books you have of Cavafy’s poetry,” Roula
said. “Even though I’m not very fond of him and “his sort,” I still
like what he has to say. Wasn’t Kazantzakis an atheist too?”
“That’s what they say. He probably had his own God, as the
Teacher used to say.”
“Well that’s nice! What a great teacher you had! He picked
out such lovely books for you children to read at home, written
by homosexuals and atheists!”
* * * The fact was that Roula had toiled long and hard to
finish high school. She wanted to be either a hairdresser or a
beautician. She had heard “Ithaca” recited by some bimbo on
a gossipy afternoon television talk show, and it had struck her
as noteworthy. Mimis loved her because of the fact that she
wasn’t as hysterical as Kiki had been. She had a mild-mannered
temperament combined with a naturally sweet and polite
demeanor. She didn’t talk much, but when she was upset she
ate a lot of sweets. That was all—no shouting matches or angry
scenes. Her habit resulted in her being a bit plump, but no one
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Why
would say she was fat. She was cute, fleshy and round, normally
shy, but a volcano in bed. She dressed in an attractive, simple
way, always stylish, with lipstick and eye shadow to complete
her look. Her hair was brown and her hairstyle was a bit
old-fashioned with the ends flipping out above her shoulders
like Jackie Kennedy’s. Her skin was smooth, translucent and
very pale because she never sat out in the sun and she wore
big, round sunglasses all year long. What she said got through
to Mimis and he thought about it. The next day he went online
and found the shop where he had bought his parrot in Cape
Town, South Africa. Once he confirmed his order to have
another parrot sent to him, he sold the one he had which knew
how to recite Cavafy.
Mimis arranged for his new parrot’s transport to Greece
through friends and colleagues who sailed to Africa often.
When he went to go pick up his new parrot they gave him an
additional box from the same sender. He opened it up and what
did he see? Three scorpions, a spider, a few beetles and a snake
in a plastic box. They were all definitely alive, quite frisky, and
obviously hungry.
He sent a message to the dealer asking him, “what are these
things that you’ve sent me?” The dealer replied that he sent along
a few other creatures as samples. He suggested that Mimis sell
them to pet shops or whoever else was interested. Roula was
excited by the idea because there weren’t many people in this
kind of business. Mimis found buyers right away for the rare
and original creatures. That wasn’t all; he began receiving orders
for other animals, including parrots and other birds, as well as
snakes and spiders. He managed to set up a little business that
considerably improved their financial situation. After a while
the African merchant sent him a catalogue with larger animals
for sale. There was everything from pythons and monkeys to
lions and elephants, which he could sell directly to circuses and
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Why
amusement parks. He managed that as well. He sold a lion and
monkeys and a tiger, he even discussed the potential sale of an
elephant! He travelled around Greece, catalogue in hand, taking
orders. He even sold an enormous python to a cabaret show
because a dancer wanted it wrapped around her neck while she
did her striptease number.
The first thing he bought with his profits was a Rolex watch
for Roula. He gave it to her, reciting a line by the poet. “Roula,
my dear, ‘for some people there comes a day when they must
say either a big YES or a big NO’.”
Roula immediately responded with, “let’s see when you’ll
say ‘Yes’ to me in front of the priest!” He had been with Roula
all these years without marrying her, as if she was his wife since
she took care of the children. He bought her a car and they
fixed up the house by installing a fireplace and a pergola out
back. They were able to help out the children financially, who
had grown up in the meantime.
* * * He wasn’t sure whether the things that the Teacher had
taught him were very useful, since from the very first day that
Mimis set foot on a ship as a young sailor, they handed him a
mop and had him swab the deck for hours on end. It took him
a long time before he finally got a good look at an engine room
and held a flashlight in his hand. A flashlight is a necessary tool
for any mechanic and for him it was his scepter. He used it to
examine the level of water in the bilge, the pressure dials and
valves, as well as the bolts in the dark recesses of the engine
room. It’s what he threw and smashed when he was angry. He
had learned to live in the dark of the engine room, many levels
below the sunlight, in temperatures of forty five degrees Celsius
or even hotter, drenched in sweat and smudged black with coal.
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Why
The rhythmic humming of the engines calmed him and when
he couldn’t hear it he would wake up abruptly, fearing that
something was wrong. He had learned to use his time in the hot
cavern for musing and nostalgic thoughts, he would dream of
his wife and whisper sweet, hot erotic secrets that only sailors
can say out loud, into her imaginary ear. He held onto her
scent, the smell of the house and the warmth of the living room
during festive moments with the children, nostalgia . . . It was
the nostalgic longing that could drive one mad on long trips. To
see another ship with a Greek flag made him feel crazy with joy.
Ships have only two places that mattered to him; the stern which
symbolized farewells, departures, and wishes for a safe journey;
and the bow, which reminded him of the harbor and the joy
of homecoming. And then everything changed. The bread, the
water, his woman—they all tasted differently. Just imagine how
humans have entrusted their riches, their children, even their
gods to the thin shell of a boat’s hull.
“How do you come up with all the wonderful things that
you say?” Roula would ask who liked it when he spoke sweet
words of love to her in sailor talk.
“It’s all Kazantzakis’s and the Teacher’s fault,” he’d tell her.
The sea was his catalyst, and moments would come when
his “other self ” would awaken—that part of him that was
created out of his experiences as a young sailor. This medley of
ideas, writings, and thoughts would churn in his mind, going
round and round in a way that made it impossible for him to
arrive at any logic.
“I was kicked, beaten to a pulp, and stepped on like a
worm. They took every ounce of pride and dignity away
from me. They moulded me into a machine of war, a faceless
tin soldier. They made me give up every comfort that I
carried with me—God, my country, my mother, my family,
the truth, my value system—not so I could carve out new
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Why
responsibilities for myself, but so that I could carry out their
orders. “Salute cadet, salute sir, salute commander, salute, salute,
salute . . . Clarinet—ATTENTION—About face—Forward
MARCH—Incline RIGHT—HALT—never look them in the
eyes—never tell them who you are—what you want—if you’re
hungry—if you’re in pain . . . Kneel, bend over, bend further,
deeper, as deeply as you can . . . The deeper, the better!” I just
couldn’t take it anymore, Roula. On the first voyage I saw
the Naval Officer rubbing and polishing a sharp knife on his
uniform. When we got to Morocco I went out a bought one
too, just like in the Kavvadias poem. It’s a good thing I read it
because, “since I have no one I hate enough to kill in this world/
I’m sometimes afraid I’ll turn the blade on myself.”
“Every time you go out with your old classmates you come
home different,” Roula told him as she took away his glass of
whisky.
“You know what the Teacher said to me? I’ll tell you Roula,”
Mimis said as he reached out and got his drink back. “‘What is
our duty?’ asked the old curmudgeon. Then he said: ‘If you’re
a wolf you eat, and if you’re a lamb you get eaten! God is the
biggest wolf; he eats lambs and tigers alike, whole!’”
“Did he say this to you recently?”
“Yeah, when I saw him the other night during our gathering
at the tavern and he even invited me out to his house in Tripoli.
He said I should come down and we could do a little betting on
football. You know what that reminded me of? A time when we
were in the middle of the Red Sea and our ship hit a Chinese
container late at night. The force of the collision threw me out
of my bunk and I ran up on deck to see what was happening.
I saw the bow going up in flames because of the fuel tanks up
front. We all grabbed the hoses to put out the fire. The Chinese
ship drifted away but we saw three or four of our Filipino
sailors, who had been out front, becoming trapped by the fire.
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Why
They didn’t know where to go. We doused them with water
but the water only pushed the fire towards them. “Jump into
the sea,” ‘an officer yelled out. Having no choice, they jumped.
Someone started yelling, “Sharks! They’re going to be eaten
alive by the sharks!” We all flew to the railing and pointed the
spotlight to see what was happening while tossing them life
preservers. The unlucky men who had jumped off the port side
began to scream in terror because sharks had already started
to circle around them in the water. The men on the starboard
side weren’t in danger yet. We got word to the captain to stop
the ship so that we could lower the lifeboat and save them. The
Captain said: “Impossible. I have to keep on course because
there’s damage to the boat and the water has started leaking
in.” We yelled back that the men were about to get mauled by
sharks. “I called the coastguard to come pick them up,” said the
second in command. “What can we do? Let the boat sink to save
four Filipinos?” I looked down at the water. One of the men
was already being ripped apart by the savage shark. I ran up
to the bridge to find the Captain. “Captain, have mercy, by the
grace of God,” I said, shaking him. “Those men are going to be
devoured by the sharks! One already has been, nobody’s going
to survive . . . stop so we can lower the lifeboat.” And do you
know what his response was? “God protects me when everyone
else drowns and only I survive. God protects me even when
everyone else survives and I’m the only one to drown.” The
Teacher had quoted the same line to us at school. I remembered
it being from the Last Temptation. Enough was enough . . . I told
him that Kazantzakis wasn’t for sailors. I told the Teacher the
same thing, the last time I saw him.”
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* * * Mimis had been tormented by his doubts about the Teacher
for years now. These thoughts were now becoming even more
intense as Roula added to fuel to the fire with her questions; she
could see that something was eating away at him.
“You shouldn’t let things like these make you become
bitter,” she told him, stroking his salt-toughened arms. “Nothing
should poison our lives.”
Over the days that she was saying such things to him,
Mimis appeared one morning clutching in his hand a paper
that had been delivered from court by the bailiff.
“That’s all we needed, Kiki has finally woken up,” Mimis
said, waving the piece of paper in front of her. “Your lovely sister
has filed a law suit demanding half of my assets. She claims that
since she was married to me for so long she has a right to a fifty
percent share.”
Roula wiped off her hands on her apron and snatched the
piece of paper from his hand. She read it over before throwing
it on the table and saying loudly and angrily:
“I was the one you kept you on dry land, I made you what
you are, I took care of her children like they were my own after
she abandoned them and now that fool thinks she’s going to
throw us out onto the street? Where is she? Is she on Poros?”
“She’s here from what I know,” Mimis answered.
“Don’t worry. I’m going to straighten her out once and for
all,” she told Mimis confidently.
He had never seen Roula so upset before. He had never
seen her break into a sweat and wipe her forehead. He had
never seen her eyes wet with tears, because she had never cried
in front of him before. He had never seen her hands shake out
of anger and frustration. He hadn’t seen anything yet . . . After
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taking a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly,
she approached Mimis, looked into his eyes and said:
“Remember that I said that I won’t allow anything to poison
our relationship? Make sure you do the same. Leave Kiki to me,”
she said decisively, putting her hand over her heart.
A few days later, Mimis was getting ready to leave for a
short trip. He was going to Patras and Pyrgos to show a few
shops some specimens of parrots, fish and lizards to see if they
wanted to order from him, as well as a few snakes and a monkey
at a circus in Tripolis.
“I’ve been thinking Roula, since I’m going to be in Tripolis
anyway, I might pay the Teacher a visit. He lives there now and
he’s invited me so many times. I gave him a call and he asked
me to stay over but I’ll be back the next day.”
“When are you leaving?” Roula asked, bringing no objection
to his plan.
“I was thinking of leaving this afternoon so that I can get
to Patras tonight, sleep there, and after finishing my work there
in the morning, go to Pyrgos. From there, I would head up to
Tripolis to spend the night at the Teacher’s house and have a
glass of wine with him. The next day I’ll visit the circus to do
whatever I have to do there and come home.”
Roula looked at him for a moment without saying anything
as if she was contemplating something. Then she said:
“You should go but don’t let him get to you again, that’s
all.”
“I feel sorry for him, Roula. He’s retired and helpless and
he doesn’t have any children of his own. He tells us that we’re
his children.”
“Alright,” Roula said.
Mimis went down to the basement where he kept a few
spare cages, baskets and special glass and plastic containers with
a few snakes, lizards and other creatures. In a beautiful, large
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cage he had an African Grey parrot that he had also trained to
recite Cavafy. “As if you’ve been ready for a while and are brave
Mimis,” the parrot said, making him laugh. He repeated the line
a few times, as he always did when he saw him.
He prepared the cages with some of the creatures that
he was taking with him: lizards, two red scorpions, a spider,
a potable aquarium with a few fish and a big basket that
contained the snake—an African mamba. Lately his customers
had been requesting more dangerous and aggressive creatures,
which is why he was taking these specimens along with him.
He kept them under double locks and was careful about who
he sold them to. Since they were what the customers wanted,
why not bring them with him. The more dangerous the species,
the bigger their adrenaline rush they said; why should it matter
to him? Mimis raised the price accordingly. At that moment
Roula came halfway down the stairs and paused. The light that
filtered through the door into the dark basement illuminated
half her face, transforming its round sweetness into something
cruel and hard.
“Before you go, I would like for us to finish a task,” she said
coldly.
“What task? Mimis asked.
She approached him and pointed at the clear plastic
container that held the spider.
“Put that in here,” she ordered, holding out a small square
cardboard box.
“What do you want the spider for Roula?” Mimis asked.
“Isn’t it a Black Widow?” she asked dryly.
“No, I sold the Black Widow. This one’s even worse, an
Australian spider that a customer traded in. He didn’t want
it anymore because it was too deadly. Do you see these two
fangs? They can slice right through your fingernail if it bites
you. It has a neurotoxic poison that paralyzes the body’s central
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nervous system,” Mimis said proudly, as if he were showing her
a precious gem. “Just look at her,” he said holding the box up.
“She can kill a man in ten minutes flat. The poison causes the
glands to go crazy, destroying the body’s cells!”
“Good. Put it in the box. I’m going to turn your ex-wife
into your dead ex-wife,” Roula said like a real shrew.
Mimis carefully picked up the spider, with a touch of
revulsion, and put it in the box.
“Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t let anything poison us?”
Roula asked sternly. “Now come with me,” she said firmly as she
pulled him out of the basement.
They got into her car and drove down to the port from
their home in Askeli. They parked the car next to the school
and walked the rest of the way to the town square where the
city hall was located. It was four o’clock in the afternoon at the
beginning of summer. The shops were closed and everyone was
taking their afternoon siesta. Carrying the box containing the
spider, the couple walked down an alley and came out onto the
square, then they climbed up a narrow pedestrian street with
broad cobblestone steps. They quietly approached an old house
where Kiki, Roula’s sister, lived. It was Kourtis the doctor’s
house and Kiki was asleep in the ground floor bedroom that
looked onto the street. Roula was well aware of all this already.
She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the gaps of the
shuttered window. She saw Kiki sleeping alone on the bed. She
already knew that she would be alone. She had gone to see the
lawyer who was working on the case to take their money and
the house.
Roula took the box and tipped the spider through a gap in
the shutters, letting it fall into the room. She turned and nodded
her head that it was time to go. They hurried away down the
same steps they had climbed just moments before. They were
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almost running by the time they got to their car. They made it
home without anyone noticing a thing.
“Now get in your car and go,” she told Mimis.
Mimis loaded his things into the car without speaking. He
took the boxes containing all the creatures, the aquarium and
the snake basket and got ready to leave. “As if you’ve been ready
for a while and are brave Mimis,” the parrot repeated once more.
He kissed Roula goodbye, got into his car and departed.
Mimis finished up his business pretty quickly. He gave
Roula a call when he got to Pyrgos the next day.
“Make sure you’re back by Sunday because we have a
funeral to attend,” Roula said, without going into detail.
He reached the Teacher’s house around dusk. It wasn’t
what he expected at all. It was a very old village farmhouse with
whitewashed stone walls and a wooden roof that was sagging
under the weight of its shingles. His host was waiting for him
in the open doorway, smiling. As the Teacher led him inside,
Mimis noticed how small and spare it was. There was only one
room which served as both a living room and bedroom. The
wooden furniture was very old. There was a chest of drawers
with a marble top which a television set sat on, a bed with a
metal frame and a table with four wooden chairs around it.
A bare light bulb hung down from the ceiling by an electric
wire. Some old photographs of his peasant ancestors hung on
the walls, there was a fireplace and a little mirror with, “Good
Morning” written across it. Around the fireplace, wooden
boards balanced on bricks served as shelves, on which stacks
of books were piled. Across from the fireplace, on the opposite
side of the room was a small, low door that led to the kitchen.
A second bed was also pushed against this wall along with a
little table, a refrigerator, a built-in oven, a woodstove, and a
stone sink.
The Teacher welcomed him and showed him the house.
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“This is where I practice my own Asceticism,” he said,
smiling. “Now go bring in your things. I made up your bed in
the kitchen because I sleep in the other room.”
“Isn’t your wife here, Teacher?” Mimis asked him.
“My wife’s in Athens. She teaches at a high school there
and hasn’t retired yet. She comes to see me on the weekends.
I live here to take care of the olive grove and the animals that
my father-in-law left us. This is all hers, I don’t have anything.
I’m just a clump of mud, as Kazantzakis would say,” he said,
laughing.
They had a pleasant evening together. His host grilled him
lamb chops and poured him some lovely red wine. He laid out
olives, sliced tomatoes, onions, and a fresh loaf of buckwheat
bread. Mimis shared his news and took him out to the car to
see the exotic creatures that he imported. The Teacher was
impressed by the African snake.
“It’s one of the most lethal snakes in the world,” Mimis said
proudly, showing off the mamba. “The venom released in a
single bite is strong enough to kill between twenty and forty
people! It’s very aggressive and can stand straight up, even up
to a full meter tall. It’s fast too; it can move at speeds of up to
twenty kilometers an hour.”
“Take a look at the animals,” the Teacher said, “and believe
me—you too were once like that too.”
As usual he went off on his own tangent. But this time,
Mimis wanted to corner him.
“Teacher, I was wondering if you could tell me . . .” he
interrupted as some point, “ . . . when you were teaching at the
Academy, why didn’t you do anything when we complained
about being beaten at school? We were only thirteen years old
and they humiliated and terrified us.”
“Me?” he asked, surprised. “I . . . lived outside the Academy
and didn’t know what went on while I was off the premises.”
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“You didn’t know what went on?” Mimis asked in disbelief.
“How could you not? The whole place was buzzing with the
news. We came to class bruised and so exhausted from our
manual punishments that we would fall asleep on our desks.
There were boys who ran away and never came back and you
mean to tell me that you didn’t know what was happening in
that hellhole?”
“No, I didn’t know that the older students would beat
you. Besides you all honored your code of silence and no one
reported any abuse. It was a military school after all, it was
bound to have a few hazing rituals. The rules that applied there
are different from the rules of real life!”
The Teacher saw that Mimis didn’t believe what he was
telling him and thought he was making excuses, but there was
nothing else he could say. After staring at his wine glass for a
few minutes he suddenly said:
“Listen up, Mimis. You’re a grown man, don’t dwell on what
happened to you when you were a thirteen year old boy. It’s
doesn’t do you any good to go around saying that you were
beaten. You know what the poet says? “If you can’t make your
life what you wish it to be/ than at least try/ not to disgrace it.”
The Teacher had found an easy way out. If he was ever in
a tight spot and couldn’t find anything else to say, he would
come up with the wise words of someone else, a saying, or a
line of poetry and would end up giving another life lesson.
He overlooked his own life and his own actions, conveniently
forgetting his mistakes and vices; he slithered around the issues
he didn’t want to face, like a snake. Mimis remembered that
he had told them that the mind “had to be agile and quick,”
mimicking the movement of a snake with his hand as he spoke.
He had said, “don’t punch a knife because you’ll hurt your
hand.” He was just as loathsome and dangerous as a real snake.
Once he had bitten you with the poison of his mind, you didn’t
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know if it would cure you, or kill you. “Oh god, where’s my little
Moroccan dagger now so that I can stab him in the heart and
be done with it?” Mimis thought. “I loved him up until now
because the others loved him but I can’t stand watching him
play dumb. No, it has to stop! I didn’t know who to kill with
my little African dagger but now I do. I hate him. He deserves
to have his heart ripped out of his chest, if only just to see if
it’s filled with blood or oil like the kind he squeezes out of the
olives. I need to see if it works like a human heart or like a ship’s
engine instead—humming and thumping inside of his chest!”
“Do you want a little more wine, Mimis?” the Teacher asked,
after seeing that Mimis’s head was tottering from fatigue.
“No, I’d better go to bed, Teacher” Mimis said, getting up
abruptly.
He pushed away the chairs and took a few of the plates
and glasses into the kitchen. He fell fast asleep, without taking
off his clothes or saying goodnight. He was thinking of snakes
and he even dreamt about them. He stepped on their bodies
and they wrapped themselves around his arms and neck and
everywhere. They had shiny eyes, poisonous forked tongues
and sharp fangs, but they spoke to him. They spoke in human
tongue, like the parrot. The same thing, over and over . . . but
he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Roula suddenly
appeared among them, holding some of them in her hands like
an Egyptian goddess. She whispered the words softly in the hiss
of a snake, and then he understood.
“Don’t let others poison you . . .”
He woke up from his nightmare, his eyes wide with fear. He
knew that phrase—his mistress had said it to him. He looked
around in the dark, trying to figure out where he was. His head
hurt from drinking too much wine. He looked down at his
watch. It was past three in the morning. He slowly got up and
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gently pushed open the door, which separated his room
from the Teacher’s. He saw him sleeping motionlessly on
the bed.
“Snake,” he whispered with hatred, through clenched
lips. He looked around once more, standing there in his
socks before softly stepping outside into the garden
through the kitchen door. He went over to his car and
took the basket that held the African mamba out of the
back seat. He brought it into the kitchen and set it down in
front of the door that led to the other room. He silently
pushed the basket into the room where the Teacher was
asleep. He grabbed a long-handled wooden spoon from
the kitchen and opened the lid of the basket. Then
he quickly shut the door.
He wouldn’t have to wait long. The snake’s
neurotoxin would cause paralysis and asphyxiation within
ten minutes of its injection into the bloodstream. The
nervous system shuts down and the heart stops beating.
He sat in a chair and rested his head on his hands while he
waited.