For all the ages the crossroads of civilization at the eastern end
of the Mediterranean – the “middle of the world” – is a
place called Asia Minor. National borders may be drawn, but
nationalities exist across them. Sometimes the intermingling
of Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Syrians and others has been peaceful
and beneficial to all of humanity. But there have been
terrible times too, and even today this part of the world faces
both hope and ethnic conflict.
In
the years following World War I Turkey experienced tremendous
upheaval. The once-mighty Ottoman monarchy was overthrown
and a new Turkish republic led by the western-oriented Mustafa
Kemal Atatürk embarked on a campaign that a later time might call
“ethnic cleansing”. Among the most unfortunate of groups
to be banished from Turkish soil were Greek Christians who lived
in the Pontian Mountains near the Black Sea.
Although
the story of the banishment, death marches and dispersal of Pontic
Greeks was reported at the time, this tragic history has been
often overlooked or denied. But one of the most powerful
accounts came eighty years after the fact in the book Not
Even My Name by Thea Halo. It is the story of
Thea’s mother, who was originally named Themía, from the
village of Iondone. At about the age of ten she was forced from
her happy home and childhood and sent off on a death march with
the rest of the Pontic Greek population. Her parents and
siblings died but somehow she survived and was given shelter and
sustenance under both caring and harsh circumstances.
“Bint
[Arabic for ‘girl’],” Ruth said to me…, “You must have
a real name. I can’t pronounce that name you have now.
I have decided to call you Sano. It’s a good Kurdish
name. I think it suits you.”
“But
I have a name,” I said.
--from Not Even My Name
Sano
arrive in exile in Syria where, at the age of 15 she was married
to a man she hardly knew who was three times her age. Her
husband, Abraham Halo, was an Assyrian who had been living in
America and in 1925 he took his new bride back with him. Not
Even My Name is really a sequence of stories: Sano’s
horrendous experience during the persecution of the Pontic Greek
people and her life as an immigrant in America. Bracketing them is
the account of Sano’s return to Turkey with Thea in a pilgrimage
to find a remnant of Iondone and the Pontic Greek land. Thea
Halo tells the whole story in the first-person, so it is her
mother’s spirit that dominates the pages.
I found my voice with Abraham, the voice I had lost when I found
myself alone in a strange land, surrounded by strangers.
It was not a strong voice at first, but at least I could speak
my mind. I belonged somewhere, or at least to someone.
And someone belonged to me.
Sano Themía is now 95 years old. She and Abraham were
together for 45 years and raised ten children. Thea
Halo is an artist, poet and broadcaster, whose book Not
Even My Name has become an important testimony of
ethnic cleansing and a valued document within the Pontic Greek
community. Thea joins Bill
Jaker on OFF THE PAGE to share her mother’s life and her own
experiences, and to discuss the tragic history of the Pontic Greek
people. To join in the conversation, call during the live
broadcast to 1-888/359-9754 or post a comment to WSKG.Radio@Gmail.com.
Listen
to the program now
Thanks to
Mr. Gregory Keeler and WSKG Radio
for the permission to reprint this article.
