The Fig Tree (23 page)

A book cabinet housed a miniature library; but instead of Yiddish classics I noted volumes on the subject of volcanoes! Names like Stromboli, Lipari and Salina lined the spines. On one of the cabinets there lay a copy of a booklet celebrating the seventieth anniversary of the
Societa' Isole Eolie
. The society had been founded in 1925. The booklet was sub-titled, ‘From the Seven Islands to Melbourne'.

I glanced through an article called ‘The Seven Treasures of the Tyrrhenian Sea'. It begins with a quote: ‘He who wanders in the kingdom of Eolo has the sensation of having fallen, as if by enchantment, into a vague land which corresponds only with the world created by the fantasy of Dante and Ariosto.'

The author, Katie Cincotta, traces life on the islands back to 3000 BC, when they were settled by ‘sea-faring foreigners in search of precious metals'. The history of the Aeolian islands is an epic of enforced exiles and wanderings. A succession of invaders colonised the islands, among them Romans and Normans, Spaniards and Arabs. The harsh terrain was the setting for violent battles matched by volcanic eruptions that generated flows of lava and pumice stone. The islands finally came under Italian rule, but in the past century many Aeolians had moved on from their impoverished villages in search of a more prosperous life.

The Aeolian islands derived their name from a Greek myth. Aeolus, god of the winds, was placed by Zeus on Lipari Island, and given the power to unleash, from its caves, all the winds of the world. This was one of the many ports, some historians argue, that Odysseus, the archetypal wanderer, landed in, on his way home to Ithaca.

Homer depicts Aeolia as a floating landmass surrounded by an unbroken bronze wall. The wall is built upon cliffs that rise sheer from the sea. Aeolus lives in a palace with his six daughters and six adult sons. They spend their days feasting upon countless delicacies, and their nights making love with their spouses upon ornate beds.

Odysseus and his crew come upon Aeolia after their harrowing encounter with the man-eating Cyclops. Aeolus receives them as honoured guests and entertains them in his palace for weeks on end. When the time for departure draws near, Odysseus asks the god of the winds' help in his journey back to Ithaca.

Aeolus presents him with a leather flask, made from the skin of a full-grown ox. In the flask are enclosed the ‘boisterous energies of all the winds'. Aeolus stores the bag in the hold of Odysseus's ship tightly secured with silver wire. He releases one wind from the west to blow the fleet back towards their longed-for home.

For nine days and nights the ships sail in favourable winds. On the tenth night the mountains of Ithaca are finally in sight. The fleet draws so close the men can see shepherds tending their fires. The exhausted Odysseus, certain that his voyage is over, falls asleep.

His crew begin to discuss matters among themselves. Surely the flask contains a fortune in silver and gold, they whisper, a gift from Aeolus to Odysseus for his return home. Their captain would return a rich man, while after all the dangers they had endured, they would arrive back empty-handed.

The greedy crew undo the leather bag, and all the winds are let loose. In the ensuing tempest their ships are pushed headlong out to sea. Odysseus and his men are blown back to the island of Aeolus. The enraged god banishes them from his kingdom, and Odysseus is condemned to wander on. It would be years before he finally steps back on Ithacan soil.

Reading about these islands in the upper room where I had run wild at banquets as a child, I felt at home. The sounds of a community gathering drifted from the hall below. My elders had also arrived in boats, and they too had brought with them tales of epic voyages and aborted dreams. I could imagine a child of Aeolian immigrants, listening enthralled to tales of volcanoes and sea wanderers, and the journeys of their elders from ancestral isles. We shared a common fate.

I moved through the balcony doors and looked out over Lygon Street. I glanced at the cypress enclosed behind the cast-iron cemetery fence. A tram glided by. I pictured the Yiddish poet, Melekh Ravich, back from his wandering ways, climbing the marble steps in triumph, flanked by an excited crowd.

I imagined him standing on the Kadimah stage, with his lantern slides, recounting the story of his journey. Like a modern-day Odysseus he wove tales about this spacious and mysterious land, the most distant of continents, onto which the prevailing winds had blown him.

Author's Note

As I wrote the final draft of
The Fig Tree
in early 2002, I was constantly reminded of contemporary parallels. The drama of migration continues. Greater numbers of refugees are on the move than ever before. Many languish in camps or detention centres for years on end. As a nation, we appear to have become less generous to those who are still caught between sky and sea. We have forgotten what it is to be a stranger, in desperate search of asylum. We have forgotten that our own forebears, in the not-too-distant past, sailed to these shores in search of a new life. We need to retrace their steps to see where they came from. And why they came. Perhaps then we will rediscover our common humanity.

My journals have been a major source for these stories. I have also drawn upon a number of texts for additional information. These include:
Tales of the Hasidim: The Early Masters
, Martin Buber, Thames & Hudson, London, 1956;
In Their Own
Image, Greek Australians
, Effy Alexakis and Leonard Janiszewski, Hale & Ironmonger, Sydney, 1998;
From the Seven Islands
to Melbourne
, Societa, Isole Eolie, 1995
; Inside Hitler's Greece,
The Experience of Occupation, 1941–44
, Mark Mazower, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1993. According to Mazower, a major role in the rescue of Jews in Greece was played by the resistance movement EAM/ELAS whose ‘underground organisation was the most extensive in the country'.

The translations of my father's poems from Yiddish are mine, although I have also drawn upon translations by Andrew Firestone. I have tried to remain true to the spirit of Meier Zabludowki's work. As is often the case with translations, I have taken liberties. I hope they do justice to the originals. Romek Mokotow, as always, assisted with Yiddish terms.

Many people have helped me with the Ithacan tales. I wish to acknowledge the people of Ayia Saranta, Stavros, Exogi and Vathi, who were so generous with their time and hospitality; and the Varvarigos families, both in Athens and on Ithaca, in particular my wife Dora's cousins and their spouses, Eftimios and Aleka, Kaliope and Makis, Yanni and Dionysia, Sevasti and Athanassios, aunt Agelo, Rigo Varvarigos, aunt Georghia and the late uncle Dimitri. I thank them not only for the many conversations, but also for the odd night of plate-throwing. Now that is when one knows things are happening.

Dennis Sikiotis has helped greatly with historical material and language, both on Ithaca and in Melbourne. Jim Vlassopoulos, Eustratia and Demetri Pimenides, Stathi Raftopoulos, George Coutsouvelis and members of the Ithacan Historical Society helped me with Greek terms and Ithacan lore.

Except for Lily Varvarigos and her daughter Dora, all personal names in the story of Lily's passing have been changed to protect privacy. Omeros is also an assumed name.

In Athens, Andrea Demetriou led me to Iakovos Kambanellis. The English-language edition of Iakovos Kambanellis's memoir,
Mauthausen
, was translated by Gail Holst-Warhaft and published by Kedron, Athens, October 1995. For the lyrics of the song cycle ‘Mauthausen Cantata' I worked from a translation by Julie Dennis.

Dimitri Dollis helped with the journey to Thessaloniki. Members of the Jewish community there were generous with their tales, especially Leon Benmajor who told me his story over a number of meetings. The essays of Yolanda Willis Avrams remain an inspiration. She continues to document, and lecture on, the fate of Greek Jewry throughout the US.

There are several versions of the rescue of the Jews of Zakynthos. I have relied on a number of sources, including information provided by the Simon Wiesanthal Center, LA, California. The extract from the ‘Diary of Master Thomas Dallam, 1599–1600', appears in
The Pursuit of Greece
, Philip Sherrard, published by John Murray. The details of the rescue of the refugees on board the
Brenier
are based on newspaper sources, including articles published in the Greek daily
Ta Nea
, 8 November 2001.

The writing of ‘The Treasure' was greatly assisted by discussions with Genia Tigel, Rachel Levita and Rita Gawenda. Moshe Potashinski serialised his memoirs in the
Yiddishe Post
and
Di
Yiddishe Naies
, under the title ‘117654 Tells'. I also relied upon interviews with, and the archives of, Mila's brother David Waislitz;
The Dybbuk and Other Writings
, S. Ansky, edited by D. G. Roskies, Schoken Books, New York, 1992; and
Vagabond
Stars
, Nahma Sandrow, Harper & Row, New York, 1977.

Melekh Ravich's Australian journeys were recreated from an album of his photographs, articles published in the
Australian
Jewish Herald
in the 1930s, and from his accounts of his journey to outback Australia. These travel writings were initially published in Yiddish newspapers in Poland. Ravich's daughter, Ruth Bergner, introduced me to and helped me translate some of her father's work, including his memoir
Continents and Oceans
. Yosl Bergner provided additional anecdotes about his wandering father. Extracts of Peretz Hirschbein's travel journals,
Peoples
and Lands
, were published in Yiddish in
The Australian Jewish
Almanac
, 1937.

Books written by my mother's ‘holy trinity' include:
The
New House
, Herz Bergner, Kadimah, Melbourne, 1941;
Between
Sky and Sea
, Herz Bergner, translated by Judah Waten, Dolphin Publications, Melbourne, 1946;
Light and Shadow
, Herz Bergner, translated by Alec Braizblatt, Georgian House, Melbourne, 1963;
Derzeilungen fun Australie
, Melbourne, 1939;
Collected
Writings
, Pinchas Goldhar, York Press, Melbourne, 1949.

Kevin Brophy and the School of Creative Arts, University of Melbourne, provided support for research into Yiddish writers in Australia and migration. Michael Heyward is an editor and publisher with a sharp insight into the themes that link the stories together, as well as an eye for detail. He knows how to encourage and inspire a writer. Patty Brown read the book in an early draft. Without her enthusiasm I would not have embarked upon the project. Melanie Ostell contributed to the editing process, and Chong Wengho's wonderful cover design helped spur on the writing.

I wish to acknowledge Toula Nikolaou and Yanni Rigos who have their own interpretation, and tales, of what it means to be the children of Lily and Athanassios Varvarigos.

Dora, my wife, has assisted me in many ways, from interpreting Greek conversations to the collecting of tales, and discussions of themes. The Ithacan stories owe much to Dora's insights, support and family stories. We undertook journeys to Ithaca in 1987, 1990, and, with our son Alexander in 1997. We will return again. It has become a second home.

A NOTE ON SPELLING
The spelling of placenames in Greece have many variations. Often it comes down to personal preferences from a variety of choices. The island of Zakynthos is also known as Zante, and Ithaca as Ithaki. The names of towns and villages offer a similar challenge. The name of Lukas Karrer, mayor of Zakynthos in 1944, also has several variations in spelling. I have used
nonno
and
nonna
for ‘grandmother' and ‘grandfather' since they are the terms used in the Ionian Islands, as distinct from most other areas of Greece. I have preferred the terms ‘Annihilation' and its Hebrew equivalent ‘
Shoah
' when referring to the Holocaust.