Ancestry - 1 From Melnik: Panayiotis the Ibrişimci

Great-grandfather Panayiotis Ibrişimci, Panayiotis the silker, worked during the prime of his life in the local silk industry, one of the leading and, perhaps, most lucrative activities, along with wine-making and tobacco, in the prosperous town of Melnik of that time: the late 19^th and early 20^th century. A manual worker for a best part, I imagine, in the sense that his hands were capable and skillful, he became an established and well-known artisan in the region, so much so that eventually his trade and skill, as pronounced in Turkish, became his surname. The production of silk threads for local workshops or as an exportable commodity to the advanced textile industry of the West, was founded on generations of experience and personal craftsmanship, developed with patience, perseverence and practical application over time. Then, it required only a few pieces of rather crude hardware and machinery. Panayiotis knew his craft well and his nickname, if one could call it so, was a testament to his skills, a kind of a title of recognition of his craftsmanship by merchants and the local community. Over the years it became the name by which he introduced himself and was identified in the streets of Melnik, addressed in guilds and associations, public gatherings, and business deals, even in written contracts. It was established as the de facto epithet of his family and male descendants’ Christian names, and eventually became the surname registered in register offices in Greece and, for those of us who emigrated, in a couple of countries of the world.

I picture him as a master supervising apprentices in his own workshop or more likely in Melnik’s one silk factory, with good relations of mutual understanding and respect, even of friendship with the wealthier factory owners and merchants, sharing in communal ownership the tradition and intricacies of the silk thread making and trade. Some third and fourth generation descendants of Panayiotis who visited Melnik some decades ago reported that the “mansion” of the Ibrişimci family of silk workers, masters, and tradesmen, built in a prominent position, still stands well preserved and inhabited, and the Ibrişimci name was still remembered among the older folk in the neighborhood. It seems as well that Panayiotis was recognized by the local community as an important factor in the silk trade, and his family must have prospered as a result. He married, possibly because of his worth and status in the community, a noble woman of the town, Ekaterina (Katina) Hadjivantsi, daughter of one of the wealthiest lords of Melnik.

In any case, Melnik was a wealthy community in its historical and geographical context, with the Greek element dominant, economically, and culturally; autonomous and largely self-willed, as much as local and individual “wills” were conceded and freed from their shackles by the Ottoman Porte. Such links, however, with the central Ottoman administration were becoming increasingly loose. The welfare of an advanced community, thanks to its revenues from wines, tobacco, silk and the other goods it produced and exported here and there effected in reducing economic inequalities, regulating national disparities and mending conflicts between ethnicities and religions: Greeks, Slavs and Turks, from the many rulers and ruling nations that took their turn as occupiers and rulers, had lived for centuries in relative harmony, guaranteed by the mingling and civil interaction between diverse cultures in mutual tolerance and even respect and, inevitably, miscegenation; along with and despite of rigidly maintaining intra-cultural traditions and habits, notwithstanding the endogamies and heterogamies, the infidelities and the like, misdemeanours invariably committed by all ethnicities, in any community.

And they lived peaceful lives, for as long as the bandits and the various nationalist rebels or sectarist elements or even revolutionaries operating in the region allowed it. The Sultan and his Empire, despite an apparently increasing inability to keep up with the industrial revolution and industrialisation gathering pace elsewhere in Europe and having to deal with the expansionist moods of the countries where industrialization galvanised and expanded their economies, still offered, at that time, a relative political stability and security, especially from local bandits and Bulgarian nationalist rebels. Melnik, as a relatively affluent city in a sea of poverty and the renowned Balkan rural backwardness had a relatively privileged position in the region, thanks mainly to the taxes and land rents which supplied to the bureaucracy of the Porte, and despite its troublesome, albeit in some respects enviable, geographical location. It was faithfully subordinate to the Porte and, one could say, a small jewel in a still expansive empire. But the latter was now on a path of irrevocable decline, mired in debt and underdevelopment, with the technological gap between itself and Europe widening; feeling surrounded and, thus, its establishment threatened by the economic imperialism of the West, insatiable as ever for oil, raw materials, and markets for its industrial products, and the profits these enterprises would promise. Except of a handful of well-travelled merchants, few locals had a complete picture of what was going on in the rest of the world, or of the machinations and manoeuvring of the great powers in a period of intense political ferment and antagonism in Europe. Panayiotis and his family simply lived their everyday lives, that is, of hard work on the one hand, and of the few afforded material comforts and tranquillity on the other, in a wider world that unbeknownst to him, was changing rapidly, but with changes that historical evolution would eventually manifest in brutal ways, as it usually is the case. For many in the community which raised and established Panayiotis would mean doom and death. However, they were largely oblivious to what was coming.

The apparent calm and security under the ostensibly protective auspices of the Ottomans were to be perturbed in tandem with the decline and eventual collapse of the empire in which they had prospered. The various Balkan nationalisms, Bulgarian, Serbian, Greek, flared up on its ruins, underpinned and encouraged by external forces, namely, the interventionism of the great powers and empires of Europe, which wanted to expand their influence and interests in the region, like vultures anticipating the death the ‘Sick Man of Europe.’  Robberies and murders, attacks by gangs, terrorist acts in surrounding villages and within the town of Melnik itself, intensified to an unbearable degree the insecurity and anxiety of its inhabitants, especially the Greeks who, by and large, held the economic reins of the region. Aid and support from Greece at that multinational and contested corner of Europe, could only be marginal and piecemeal. On the outskirts and rural areas surrounding the town the population was predominantly Slavic. The influence of Bulgarian nationalists was anticipated. They were perfectly capable and with ample means, cultural and material, in transforming allegiances and persuasions and aligning the collective will of the predominantly Slavic rural majority to their objectives and vision -often by handing to the poorest a piece of land and the plundered riches of their alienated rulers thus disrupting the status quo.

Therefore, things would dramatically change for Melnik, no matter how the unfolding historical events were perceived by its people: the impending economic decline in this mountainous region against the backdrop of a disintegrating empire had been visible on the horizon for a while, precipitated by the development of the railway, the emergence of mass production and industrial and commercial centers, and steep increases in productivity and capital accumulation elsewhere in Europe. Melnik was not close to any transport hub or any easily accessible trade routes. Its geographical isolation, at the margins of a crumbling empire, made it easy prey to local national unrest and quarrels. The relatively uneven accumulation of wealth that favored the Greek community had become another obvious target of hostile aspirations. Based on the precedent of conflicts and clashes in the Balkans and the uneasy situation at that point in time, some denouement, a settling and closing of accounts amongst the economic and national actors operating in the region, was something to be expected and were largely predictable. The Treaty of Bucharest of 1913, in the aftermath of the second Balkan Wars, dealt the final blow to the honest, hard-working, and prosperous Greek community of Melnik. Some parts of the broader Macedonia would be allocated to Bulgaria, in exchange – and Melnik was to be one of the rather well sought after towns to be handed over. The announcement by the Greek authorities was laconic, a categorical-imperative, and unequivocal: "Unfortunately, the town has been handed to the Bulgarians." Stomachs felt knotted, hearts pounded fast at the rumors. Despair reigned at the final news. On July 30, 1913, the Greek of Melnik gathered in the town square, deliberated, and decided to leave en masse and as quickly as possible, with as many as of their belongings they could salvage; besieged by Sandanski's Bulgarians, who were keen impose the terms of the Treaty before the agreed deadlines by the force of arms, if necessary. In an August dawn, with the few possessions they managed to pile on carts, they took the unhappy refugee route to Sidirokastron and, further, to Thessaloniki, and other hospitable parts of Macedonia under Greek jurisdiction. For many amongst them, it was the betrayal of their motherland and heritage by the political leadership in Greece, that is, Venizelos’ government. A few, like great-uncle Elias, the older son of Panayiotis and second-in-rank in the family, shifted the blame squarely to Venizelos and to the liberal and progressive sections in Greek politics he represented. The traumatic event of their uprooting pushed them further to the "right", to the more conservative and reactionary end of the political spectrum, and shaped their political views and stance in the turbulent years to come.

This inglorious end, the tragedy as many characterized it, of a remarkable historical community, and the ethnic cleansing and mass migration that ensued, predetermined my own and my generation’s fate in this world: the seconds of life in this infinitesimal dot of the Universe I have been entitled to, the here and the now -amongst the innumerable conjunctures of forces that led to it. For every event, for every statistical insignificance, such as the birth and the death of a mortal and his or her instantaneous presence on the planet, there are myriad causes, impossible for the mind to grasp. But it has become clear to me that if patriarch Panayiotis, the silker, and his children were not uprooted from Melnik at a historical junction into which myriad other causes and forces also led, with their marks, however, attenuated and disappeared over the epochs, I would not be in the world I am now temporarily residing.

Two photos of Panayiotis survived the passage of time. The first must have taken several years before the fin de siècle, in his maturity of more than thirty years of age. Handsome, elegant, and well-dressed –wearing a grey three-piece suit and a bow-tie, the gold chain of his watch appearing discreetly between buttons of his waistcoat, his hair neatly combed with brilliantine and sporting the inevitable mustache of his milieu, he was sitting on what appears to be a grey rock the side of which was covered by a climbing plant, a background thus set up in the studio (proper or makeshift) of the "Lionda Brothers" photographers. His light-colored eyes look devotedly at the lens; with dedication commensurate with the seriousness of the occasion. The index fingers of his hands stood out and pointed to his knees: a unique rather subconscious gesture that I also observed with Father’s hands several times. Great-grandmother Katina stood next to him with her right hand resting on his shoulder and palm casually thrown, a finger touching the white handkerchief in his jacket pocket, the left hand holding an umbrella; accessories likely furnished by the photo studio and created a background resembling that of a silent film setting. Katina’s physiognomy was plain, her features exhibiting no remarkable beauty but dignity. Her hair was tucked behind the head in a barely discernible braid and a rather masculine fringe covered most of the forehead. Her eyes were not looking at the lens but at an oblique direction away from it. (In fact, in most photos of married couples and families of the era the women, apparently at the behest of the photographer, and for unclear artistic or underlying social norms, did not look straight at the lens like the husbands or men dd.) In Katina's outfit, some kind of necklace made of flowers over the chest stood out, likely yet another one of the effects introduced by the photographer and made available to his clients depending on the occasion. The instantané must have been taken during a visit of Panayiotis and Katina to the city of Thessaloniki, the metropolis of broader Macedonia, for business or pleasure; or, perhaps, in one of the tours of the itinerant "Lionda Brothers" which brought them and their camera to Melnik. Who knows?

The second photo, printed on the back of a postcard, like a souvenir, was de facto the last photo of the great-grandfather in his coffin on the way to everyone’s ultimate destination. Placed on a slope of the ground so that the deceased patriarch, lying on the white lining of his slanted coffin, he appears half-standing, looking peaceful. He wore a gray coat, his fedora hat placed next to the head of white hair and a well-groomed also white beard, his face displaying the expressionless countenance that is common to the dead, Beside the coffin stood Katina, now aged, her cheeks sunken, her hair covered by a black headscarf. Next to her, at the head of the coffin, their eldest son Elias, had his head and eyes bowed venerably towards the deceased. The younger offspring of Panayiotis along with a few women dressed in black, were scattered behind the coffin at some distance regarding the deceased with sorrowful faces. A young man amongst them, likely one of my great-uncles, was the only one staring at the lens. On the black coffin, a white cross and the initials Π.H. were inscribed. Παναγιώτης (son) of Ηλίας, perhaps? No visible lamentation, no hysteria, only dignity and emotion pervaded the whole scene despite the professionally discreet intrusion of the photographer, under a dull, perhaps, rainy weather (one of the attendees was holding an umbrella) in front of what looked like a shanty dwelling at some old and poor mahalla. In short, a Chekhovian scene where the repugnance we feel in the presence of death seems absent. In the general numbness, in the solemn countenances of Katina and Elias, there was something stoic that touched the heart: the subtle, fleeting beauty of human sorrow.

I have been unable to specify the date or the location of that second photo. Testimonies from Greeks of Melnik spoke of the “families of Panayiotis and his eldest son, Elias”, as two amongst the 352 families that fled Melnik in that damned day of August of 1913. The first stop for most of the refugees was the small town of Sidirokastron, but several families, after a brief pause, pushed on for Thessaloniki, where they would eventually settle. The city would be their new home for them and the future generations of the Panayiotis’ family. It must have been a refugee camp or a slum in the city, a harsh environment in which the immigrants from Melnik had to endure for a few months and survive, where Panayiotis, the Ibrişimci, the distinguished silker amongst Turks, Bulgarians and Greeks, my great-grandfather, uprooted against his will from his mansion and workshop and hometown, perished. Then and there, in the city I claim as my birthplace, a new, radically different life for better or worse started for his four sons and two daughters.