Chapter 22 Chapter 21

After the baptism, the crowd poured out of the two church doors and out into the sunlight, with Giorgis last.He wanted to get a closer look at his granddaughter, and also to talk to her mother.Until now, Anna had not thought that her father was here, but when she turned to leave the church, she saw him.She jumped over the surging crowd around Giorgis and waved to him enthusiastically.People continued the conversation before the ceremony.It took her almost a century to get to him. "Dad!" she said happily, "I'm glad you're here." Ana spoke to Giorgis as if he were an old friend or relative whom she hadn't seen in a long time, and she was happy to be back in touch with him now.

"If you're so glad I'm here, why haven't you come to see me for over a year? I haven't been anywhere," he added pointedly, "except Spinalonga." "I'm sorry, Daddy. But I wasn't very well when I was pregnant and when I was about to give birth. The summer months are too hot to be comfortable." Criticizing Anna is pointless.It's always been like this.She always has a way of turning criticism around her and making her accuser feel guilty; the only thing he can expect is her insincerity. "Can I see my granddaughter?" Manoli loitered in front of the church, surrounded by a crowd congratulating his goddaughter.The child was still tied to him with the white ribbon, and it looked as though he had no intention of letting her go.It was love, but also possession, that made him hold the child so tightly.Finally, he walked down the aisle toward the man who had almost become his father-in-law.They greeted each other.Giorgis looked at the little granddaughter, who was wrapped in layers of lace and fell asleep again.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Manoli said with a smile. "In my opinion, yes, she is beautiful," Giorgis replied. "Like her mother," continued Manoli, glancing at Anna with a smile in his eyes. He hadn't thought of Maria for a long time, but he thought it necessary to greet her politely. "How's Maria?" he asked, his voice caring enough to fool anyone who might overhear into thinking he still cared about her.It was Anna who was supposed to ask that question, and she stood there quietly listening to his answer, wondering if Manoli still had any passion for her sister.Giorgis is more willing to talk about his youngest daughter.

"She's fine, she hasn't gotten worse since she's been there," he said. "Most of the time she helps patients who can't take care of themselves. If they need help, shopping, cooking, she helps them." Do, and she heals people with her herbs." He didn't mention that people on the island are now receiving treatment.It was useless to say too much, because he himself did not know what it meant.He understood that the injections they received would alleviate symptoms, nothing more.He certainly did not believe that leprosy could be cured completely.That the world's oldest disease could be eradicated was a fantasy, and he couldn't allow himself to indulge in such a dream.

He had just finished speaking when Andres came over. "Good evening, Giorgis. How are you?" he asked formally.After the parties had greeted each other with decency, it was time for them to leave the church.Alexandros and Elevatoria Vandoraki hesitated behind.Aleftria was still ashamed of the distance between them and Giorgis Petrakis, and privately she sympathized with the old man.However, she did not have the courage to speak out, which would have made her defy her husband, who still felt it a shame that he should have had such close ties to the leprosy colony. The family was the last to leave the church.A bearded priest, wearing a red-trimmed robe and a tall hat, looked very solemn. He stood in the sun, and a group of people followed with smiles.All around him, women in flowered dresses chirped, and children ran around, avoiding adults, jostling and chasing each other.There is a party tonight, and the air is filled with excitement as if charged.

Giorgis emerged from the shade of the marble of St. Giorgis Church, feeling dizzy as the heat hit him like a wall.He squinted in the bright light, beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks like cold tears, and the collar of his woolen coat poked uncomfortably at the back of his neck.To stay here and celebrate all night with the crowd, or to go back to the village?He is familiar with every winding street and every dilapidated gate there, which makes him at ease.When he was about to sneak away, Anna appeared beside him. "Father, you must come and have a drink with us. I must," she said. "If you don't come, it will bring misfortune to the child."

Giorgis believed in fate and believed in the importance of fending off the evil spirits and their evil forces as much as possible in the name of the Holy Father and the saints. He did not want to bring bad luck to this innocent child, and he could not refuse his daughter's invitation. The party had reached its climax when he parked under a lemon tree on the side of the long drive to the Vendorakis.On the outdoor steps, musicians are playing.The sounds of flutes, lyres, mandolins and Cretan bagpipes mingled with each other, and although the dance had not yet begun, one could feel the eager anticipation.Rows of glasses lined a long table, and people poured themselves from wine barrels and ate mosers on plates, bits of feta cheese, plump olives, freshly baked domanazzi.Giorgis stood for a while, then went to find something to eat.He knew a couple of people and talked to them politely for a while.

The dancing started, and those who wanted to dance did, and the others stood by and watched.Giorgis held a glass of wine and watched Manoli dance.His natural and elegant figure, lively and powerful footsteps make him the center of the ball. He smiles, shouts instructions, and sends out encouraging slogans.During the first dance, he turned his partner around until everyone who watched was dizzy.The rhythmic drums and the passionate lyre have a charming power, but what fascinates the audience most is the appearance of a person ecstatic to the rhythm of the music. They look at the man in front of them. He has the extraordinary talent to live only for the moment , whose fanaticism shows that he doesn't care what other people think.

Giorgis found Ana standing beside him.He could feel the heat radiating from her, even before she came to him.But they couldn't talk until the music ended.Too noisy.Ana folded her arms, then lowered them, and Giorgis could feel her excitement.How desperate she was to be part of the dance, and when the music stopped and some joined the dance circle and others unhurriedly withdrew, she slid in and took her place, next to manoli. Another tune played.This time the music should be gentler and more dignified. The dancers raised their heads high and shook them back and forth.Giorgis watched for a moment and saw Ana through the jungle of arms, spinning body, relaxed, smiling and talking to her companion.

Ana lost herself in the dance, and Giorgis took the opportunity to leave.His pickup truck chugs and chugs along this road for a long time, and when he reaches the road, he can still hear music in the distance.On his return to Plaka, he stopped for a while in a tavern.There he could easily find the camaraderie of old friends, a quiet place to sit and think about the day. Later, Giorgis did not describe the baptism to Maria, but Fotini and her brother Antonius told her the whole baptism process in detail. "Obviously, he's not going to let the baby down for a moment!" Fotini yelled, hating the guy for his brazenness.

"Do you think that makes Andres angry?" "Why?" said Fotini. "He's not suspicious at all. Besides, he has time for his neighbors and guests. You know how much he cares about the estate—what he loves to talk about is crop yields and tons of olives.” "But don't you think Anna wants to hug her?" "To be honest, I don't think she has that much motherly love. When Mateos was born, if he left my arms, I couldn't bear it for a moment. But people are different, and it seems a little bit unreasonable not to have a baby in my arms. It doesn't affect her either." "I guess Manoli had the best excuse to keep her alone. Everyone expected that to be the godfather's move," Maria said. "If Sophia was his child, there was only one day in his life when he could do that to a child." Care and concern, and no one else would suspect." The two women fell silent.They sipped their coffee, and finally Maria spoke. "Do you really think Sofia is Manoli's child?" "I don't really know," Fotini replied, "but he definitely felt a strong connection between him and the child." The birth of Sophia made Andres very happy, but in the next few months he began to worry about his wife.She looked as if she was ill and had no strength, but whenever Manoli came to visit, she cheered up.At the baptism, Andrés hadn't noticed the turmoil between his wife and his cousin, but over the next few months he grew suspicious that his cousin was spending too much time at his home.He was part of the family and now Sophia's godfather, but that was one thing, but being in and out of the house too often was quite another.Andres began to observe Anna's emotions when Manoli left, from frivolous to frowning, from happy to irritable, and found that she left her most enthusiastic smile to her cousin.Most of the time, he tried to put these thoughts out of his mind as much as possible, but something else aroused his suspicions.He came home from the estate one night to find the bed unmade.This had happened several times, and on two other occasions, he noticed that the sheets were just smoothed out. "What's the matter with the maid?" he asked. "If she doesn't work hard, she should be fired." Anna promised she would tell the servants.For a while, Andres couldn't find any reason to complain. Life on Spinalonga goes on as before.Dr. Lapakis came and went every day, and Dr. Kritis was approved by Heraklion Hospital, and his visits increased from once a week to three times a week.One autumn evening, on his way back from Spinalonga to Plaka, he was struck by a powerful shock.It was night and the sun was setting, robbing the entire coastline of light and leaving it almost in darkness.But looking around carefully, Crittis saw that Spinalonga was still immersed in the last golden rays of the setting sun, and in his opinion, the scenery was really beautiful. Plaka has many of the qualities that only an island can have – detached, reserved and isolated, while Spinalonga is full of life, energy and activity.Its newspaper, Spinalonga Star, also edited by Iannis Solomenides, carried summaries of world news, plus commentary and opinions.There is also a review of the new film that will be released next month, and a selection of works by Nikos Kazantzakis.Week after week, they serialized his idealistic work, Liberty and Death.Residents of the quarantine devoured every word, looking forward to the next reprint every week, and then discussed it in the small restaurant.That June, when the Cretan writer received the World Peace Prize, they reprinted his acceptance speech. "If we don't want the world to fall into chaos, we need to release the love trapped in the human heart," Kazantzakis said.These words resonated with readers of Spinalonga, who knew only too well that only by being imprisoned in permanent exile on this small island would they be spared the pain and harm of the Greek mainland, and would be spared The disaster of war.Some relished the opportunity to exercise their intellect, sitting for hours on end chewing over the latest utterances of the literary and political Goliath, as well as the works of other writers.A few Athenians sent books every month to the already sizeable island library, which was now larger and available to everyone.Maybe they dream of leaving, they don't just focus on the place where they live now, but always focus on the outside world. The taverns and tavernas are full in the evening, and now there is even competition from a second tavern.The plots of land behind the island looked as if they would have a good harvest that summer, and there was plenty to buy and sell at the fortnightly market.The island had never been so prosperous, not even when the Turks made their homes here. Sometimes Maria would vent to Fotini. "Now I know we might have a chance to heal, but I seem to be more annoyed," she said, clasping her hands together. "Can we dream? Or just settle for the status quo?" "Contentment is not a bad thing," Fotini said. Maria knew Fotini was right.If she is content with the status quo, she has nothing to lose.However, there was one thing that gnawed at her heart, and that was what would happen to her if she recovered. "What happens then?" she asked. "You'll come back to Plaka with us, won't you? Just like we used to." Fotini didn't seem to understand.Maria stared down at her hands, then up at her friend, who was crocheting the hem of the baby's dress as they talked.She is pregnant again. "But if I leave Spinalonga, I'll never see Dr. Crittis again," she said. "Of course you can still see it. If you don't live here, he's not your doctor anymore, it's a different situation." "I know you're right, but I'm scared," Maria said.She pointed to the newspaper spread out on the table, which happened to be a serial excerpt from Kazantzakis's book. "Look here," she said, "Liberty and Death. That's the most accurate summary of my situation. I might be free, but if I were free and never saw Dr. Crittis again, I'd still Better to die." "Has he not said anything to you yet?" "No, nothing was said," Maria confirmed. "But he comes to see you every week, isn't that enough?" "Not enough," Maria said bluntly, "although I understand why he didn't say anything. But it's not right." But when Maria saw Kritis, she showed no signs of anxiety. Instead, she took the time to ask the doctor for advice on how to care for the patients in those "blocks."These people desperately need relief from the pain they suffer on a daily basis.For some people the condition is irreversible, while for others the pain can be alleviated with the right physical therapy.Maria wanted to make sure she was right in advising them to exercise, since some of them rarely go to the doctor.She puts more energy into her work than ever before.She was not going to dwell on the distant possibility of leaving Spinalonga.Repatriation brought such complicated emotions not only to her, but to most people.Spinalonga was a safe network for them, and the thought of leaving was bittersweet.Even when they were no longer contagious, many were left with scars, strange pigmentation of the skin, twisted hands, deformed feet.The recovery of these can only be hoped for in the afterlife. Unbeknownst to Maria, the doctors were examining and re-examining the first patients treated a year ago.In five of them the bacilli appeared to have completely disappeared.Among these was Dimitri Limonias; another was Theodoros Majridakis.Majridakis had been politically opposed to the Athenians, who had been effortlessly in charge since Papadimitrio defeated him for the leadership position many years earlier.Now he has gained weight, his hair is gray, and he is still running for elections.But each year, as Papadimitriou's supporters grew, Majridakis's votes dwindled.He didn't mind either.Why should he care?Since his arrival on the island, everyone's living conditions have improved exponentially, he knows as well as everyone, and this is mainly due to his Athenian friends.His attitude toward them softened slowly, but he still objected, so that he could speak eloquently with the Athenians in the tavern. After a long and tiring day, Krittis and Lapakis sat down to review the results.Some things are obvious. "You know, it won't be long before we have every reason to let these patients go, don't we?" Krittis said, showing a rare smile. "Yes," Lapakis replied, "but first we need the government's approval, and they may not be willing to agree so quickly." "I would ask for their release, as long as after that they continue to receive treatment for a few months and then a few more medical exams over the course of a year." "Agreed. Once we have the authorization from the government, we can tell patients, but not until then." A few weeks later, they received a letter saying that patients would only be allowed to leave Sponalonga if they tested negative for a full year.Crittis was rather disappointed by the delay, but despite this, the goal he had been pursuing was finally dawning.After another few months, the test results are still negative, and it appears that the first patients will be able to go before Christmas. "Can we tell them?" Lapakis asked early one morning. "It's hard for me to put off some patients who keep asking when they can leave." "Yeah, I think the time has come. I believe these patients are no longer at risk of relapse." The first batch of patients who received treatment received their health reports of their recovery with tears of joy in their eyes.Although they pledged not to tell anyone for a few days, Lapakis and Krittis had no illusions that they could keep the secrecy even for a moment. At four o'clock Dimitri arrived and sat waiting.The patient ahead of him, a woman who worked in a bakery, emerged, tearful, wiping her scarred face with a large white handkerchief.There must be some bad news for her, Dimitri thought.At two minutes past four, Crittis stuck his head out the door and told him to come in. "Sit down, Dimitri," said the doctor, "we have news for you." Lapakis leaned forward, a smile on his face. "We have the approval to release you from quarantine." Dimitri knew how he was supposed to feel, but the numbness that seemed to afflict his hands was returning, only this time it was his tongue.He didn't remember much of his life before Spinalonga.This is his home, and the people in the quarantine area are his relatives.His real family has long since cut him off, and he doesn't know how to find them.One side of his face was so deformed that no one would think there was anything wrong with him here, but in the outside world, it certainly made him stand out.What can he do if he leaves here?Who will run the school? A hundred questions and doubts raced through his mind, and it took several minutes before he could speak. "I'd rather stay here, I'm still useful here," he said to Kritis, "I don't want to leave everything here and go to an unknown world." He wasn't the only one who didn't want to go.Others also fear that the visible remnants of the disease will follow them, setting them apart from the crowd, and they need to be assured of reintegration into society.It was like being a guinea pig all over again. Despite the patients' misgivings, this was the most important moment in the island's history.For about fifty years, the lepers kept coming, but no one left!There were thanksgivings in churches and celebrations in taverns.Theodoros Majridakis and Panos Scolavones, the Athenian who ran the thriving cinema, were the first to leave.A small group gathered at the entrance of the tunnel to say their goodbyes, both of them trying desperately to hold back tears, but without success.They shook hands with the men and women here who had been friends and companions for so many years, and mixed feelings weighed heavily on their hearts.No one knew what life awaited them on the other side of these waters when they stepped into the boat where Giorgis was waiting, from the known to the unknown.They could go as far as Heraklion together, where Majridakis would try to resume his old life, and Skravones would board a boat for Athens, which he knew was impossible. career as an actor.Not to mention the way he looks now.Both clutched the diagnostic reports declaring them “clean”; on some occasion in the coming weeks they would be forced to produce them as evidence that they had been officially declared recovered. A few months later, Giorgis brought Spinalonga a letter written by the two men.Their letters describe the difficulties of trying to reintegrate into society, describing their deportation when they were found to have lived in a leprosy colony.It was not an exciting story, and when Papadimitriou received the letter, he didn't tell anyone else.Others of the first group to be treated are now gone too.All Cretan, they will be welcomed by their families and find new jobs. The next year, the recovery mode continued.Doctors keep detailed records of how many months each person has received a new treatment since day one and tests have come back negative. "By the end of the year, we're going to be out of a job," Lapakis said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I never thought unemployment would be my goal in life," Athena Manakis replied, "but now it's true." By late spring, in addition to the dozens of patients who had reacted so badly to the new therapy that they had to discontinue treatment, and some who hadn't responded at all, it was clear that there would be another wave of "clean" health bills by summer.By July, in Spinalonga, the doctors were discussing with Nicos Papadimitririo how to manage it all. Giorgis, who had ferried the first recovered men and women from Spinalonga, was now counting the days until Maria could board his boat again.The unthinkable had come true, yet he feared there would be a delay, some kind of problem that he hadn't anticipated until now. He kept his excitement and anxiety to himself, holding back several times when he heard the usual inappropriate jokes in the bar. "Well, for me, I wouldn't fly a banner to welcome them back," said a fisherman. "Oh, forget it," replied another, "have some sympathy for them." Those who had been openly hostile to the leprosy colony recalled with guilt the night when their planned attack on the island nearly got out of hand. One evening, in Lapakis' office, the island owner and three doctors discussed how to celebrate the event. "I want the world to know that we're gone because we're healed," Papatimitrió said. "If people leave in twos and threes and sneak away at night, it's sending the wrong message to people on the continent. , why are they running away? They will ask. I want everyone to know the truth." "But what do you want us to do?" Kritis asked calmly. "I think we should leave together. I want a celebration. I want a feast of thanksgiving on the mainland. That shouldn't be too much to ask." “We also have to think about patients who are not cured,” Manakis said. “They have nothing to celebrate.” "They are facing long-term treatment." Kritis said tactfully, "We hope that they will also leave this island." "What do you mean?" asked Papadimitrio. "I'm currently waiting for government approval to transfer them to a hospital in Athens," he replied. "They will receive better treatment there. I am worried that there are too few patients here, and the government will not allocate funds to Spinalonga." .” "In that case," said Lapakis, "may I suggest that the patients be allowed to leave the island until they are cured? I think that would make them feel better." All agree.Papadimitriou will go out to announce this new discretionary decision, and those patients who have not recovered will be subtly transferred to the Santa Barbara Hospital in Athens.Those who stay must make relevant arrangements.It would take a few weeks, but at last the date was settled: August 25th, St. Titus' Day.St. Titus is the patron saint of all Crete.Spinalonga's days as a leprosy colony were numbered, and the only one among the people who feared it was Critius. He may never see Maria again.

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