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At
that time there was a great deal of railway-related construction going on in
the Kilimanjaro area of Deutsch-Ostafrika
(present-day Tanzania), and a lot of
cargo was being landed in Mombasa, British East Africa (present-day Kenya) , and
transported by train to Voi. From Voi cargo was hauled by ox-wagon over a
rough track through thick bush to Moshi (present-day Old Moshi),
Deutsch-Ostafrika, as
there was no road or railway line connecting the two towns. But the
ox-wagons couldn’t haul very bulky or heavy loads. Meimaridis had
purchased a steam traction engine, or road locomotive , and intended to take
over the heavy transport business between Voi and Moshi , a distance of about
90 miles. He offered a
partnership to Grandfather, who accepted.
Sometime
in the early 1900s the
two friends sailed from Alexandria to Mombasa, where the dismantled and crated
steam engine waited. (They became two of the first
Greeks in East Africa, and many of the Greeks who later settled in Tanganyika were their relatives
and friends from Tenedos). The two men loaded everything on the
train and went up the line to Voi, where they established themselves and
assembled the large machine with the help of an Indian mechanic. The machine
was named Tinga-Tinga , a phonetic Swahili nickname derived from the pinging noises the large flywheel made as it turned. But
Tinga-Tinga was just too heavy and cumbersome to negotiate the primitive
track. It often sank through the soft sand and got stuck , or it would smash
through the crude wooden bridges at stream crossings, and in the rainy
season it would get thoroughly bogged down in the viscous African mud. The
number of successful trips made are unknown and we have no descriptions of these trips.
Around
1908 The plan to revolutionize the cargo hauling business in East Africa was
given up and the partnership dissolved. As compensation, Meimaridis gave
Tinga-Tinga to Grandfather, who put it to good use. For the next two years he hauled building materials and other
heavy freight around the Moshi
area, and sometimes used it as a tractor, contracting with farmers to plough
their fields. Tinga-Tinga was eventually sold to a German settler in the Moshi area,
who dismantled it and mounted the boiler and engine on a permanent base to power a
saw-mill, where it operated until the end of its useful life. In
West Kilimanjaro, Tanganyika, a short distance north of Engare Nairobi, there
is a place marked on the maps as Tinga Tinga. The origin of the
name is unknown, but perhaps some other steam traction engine met its end
at that location.
After
the Tinga-Tinga venture, Grandfather became a contractor for the
Dar-es-Salaam to Kigoma (on Lake Tanganyika) railway construction project ,
where he made good money. In early 1920 he returned to the Moshi
area and, after borrowing money from another Greek from Tenedos, Nicholaos
Christofis, he bought two farms from the original German owners and so became
one of the first Greeks to settle permanently in Tanganyika. Christofis
became Grandfather’s silent partner. Also, he was my father's (Costas) godfather. He was
bought out by Costas, Dimitri, and Nikos Emmanuel in 1946. Both
farms were located in the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro, just north of Moshi.
Chombo was a fairly well developed coffee estate at Uru, while Lambo
had been
abandoned for some years and had just a few scraggly coffee trees in it, at
Machame.
Grandfather
lived at Chombo, where his first house had mud walls, an earthen floor, and
a grass thatched roof. The house at Lambo, which was built of large river
stones with a corrugated metal roof, was much smaller then than it is now. There
was no verandah at the Lambo house; instead, a huge bougainvillea covered
the whole front of the building and part of the roof. When Grandfather went to take
possession he
found a large male lion snoozing under the bougainvillea. Fortunately it ran
off into the bush when it realized there were people about.
In
1920, when he was 45 years old, Grandfather returned to Tenedos to find a
bride and get
married. On that trip he wrote a postcard to a friend in East Africa,
telling him how hard it was to find a
bride. However, on September 9, he
married Irini D. Perrou , my grandmother, who was 24 years old at the time . She was a refined, cultured woman,
who spoke French and played the piano. She was also very high-strung, a contrast
to Grandfather, who was calm and quiet to an extreme.
Sometime
after their return to East Africa, probably in 1921, Grandfather tore down
the mud house at Chombo and built a new one, of cement blocks with a metal
roof. For the next four years Grandfather and Grandmother were busy having
children; in 1922 they had a daughter, my aunt Eleni Lekanidou, in ‘23 my father,
Constantine (Costas), was born , and in ‘24 and ’25 they had two more
sons, Dimitrios (Dimitris) and Nicholas (Nikos), my uncles.
In 1922
Greece’s initially successful campaign
to recapture Constantinople and the formerly Greek
lands of Asia Minor ended in disastrous defeat. With the 1923 Treaty of Lausane, Tenedos and the Moskhonisia, the Emmanuels' ancestral
homelands,
were formally ceded to the newly formed, ultra-nationalistic and militant Turkish
state which had replaced the moribund Ottoman Empire. During the pogroms and the
exchange of populations between Greece and Turkey that followed, about 1.3 million Greeks left their homes in Asia Minor and sought
refuge in mainland Greece
and other countries. As a result, during
the 1920s the Greek population of East Africa grew dramatically. A large
number of Greeks, many from Tenedos, came to Tanganyika,
where Greeks became the second largest expatriate European community (Germans being the largest group).
In both Moshi and Arusha there were thriving Greek communities and the need
arose for a Greek school. As the house at Lambo was vacant, Grandfather leased it to the Greek community and it became the first Greek
school in East Africa. It was a
boarding school and was
the first school attended by my father, Costas. (He told me that a student who
sleepwalked
was taken during the night by a leopard.)
Sometime
in the 1920s Grandfather acquired his first car. Being a thrifty person, he
economized on fuel by shifting into neutral and freewheeling all the
way from his farm down to Moshi, a distance of about 10 miles. Of course,
this played hell with the brakes. Also, it is
said that the grevillia trees that lined the narrow, potholed dirt road on
both sides bore scrape marks as evidence of his passage.
My
father, Costas, told me this story from the early 1930s:
One
night all of us were piled in Father's car, a Ford Model A,
returning to Chombo in a heavy rain sometime in the masika (rainy
season).
There were Nikos, Eleni, Dimitris, your grandmother Irini, myself, and
your grandfather Gregory, who was driving. There was also another Greek in
there with us. Well, at some point we got stuck in the mud and we all got
out while the old man, my father, tried to jack the car up. But there
was too much mud and the jack wouldn't work. So your grandfather asked the Greek
fellow to go find a block of wood to put under the jack, and off the
fellow
went into the coffee trees to look for a suitable piece of wood, in total
darkness, in the rain. He didn't have matches or a torch (flashlight) with him.
After a while he came back holding something big
and shiny, and
it looked heavy. When he got close to us the thing he was carrying
started to move and he dropped it and ran yelling back to the car. It turns out
that in the dark he
had picked up a large coiled python, mistaking it for a block of wood.
Grandfather
and Grandmother wanted their children to have a Greek education,
but as the school at Lambo offered only a primary education, they decided to send the children to Greece. In 1933,
Grandmother Irini and her four children left for Greece
on the Deutsch-Ostafrika Linie ship S.S.Usukuma. In Athens the boys were enrolled in the Athens College, considered to be Greece's best
school at the time. They leased a house at 163 Kifisias Avenue in Ambelokipi,
a suburb of Athens. Grandfather came to see them for short visit
in 1937 and then returned to Tanganyika. Three
years later, on October 28, 1940, war came to Greece when the Italian Army invaded
through Albania. Grandmother wanted to return to Tanganyika and, after a lot
of searching, she found tickets on a ship leaving for Egypt. On their way to
the harbor to board it, the
ship was bombed and sank, so Grandmother Irini and her
children were trapped in Greece for the duration of the war
and for part of the Greek civil war which followed, enduring incredible hardships. Irini and
her three sons were finally able to leave
and rejoin Grandfather in Tanganyika in 1945
,
after a separation of 8 years. Their daughter Eleni and her family arrived
in Tanganyika the following year. At
that time Grandfather worked the coffee farm at Chombo. His partnership
with his nephew, Stelios, to develop the property
at Lambo had just ended with the completion of agreed-upon work. So his
eldest son, Constantine (Costas, my father), took over as manager at Lambo. After
the war the price of coffee was very high and Grandfather was able to pay
off all the debts incurred by Grandmother during the occupation fairly
quickly. (Paying off these wartime debts was an accomplishment; many people refused to
do so, instead accusing their lenders of taking unfair advantage of them
during the war). Since Grandfather was now financially solvent, his sons
persuaded him to end the one-sided partnership with Christofis.
Grandfather agreed and his son Dimitri went to see Christofis at his
residence in Cairo. Christofis agreed to the dissolution, so the four brothers bought
him out and in partnership with their father became the outright owners of
Lambo
and developed it as a sisal estate. My
mother told me that when I was born in 1953 Grandfather was very excited
because I would be the first grandson who would bear his name. During the few
weeks after I was born, he would visit every day to make sure that my eyes
stayed blue, like his. Grandfather
continued working the coffee estate at Chombo until 1960. That
same year
Grandmother
Irini passed on at the age of 64. Chombo was then sold and Grandfather retired; he was then 85. He left East Africa and returned to
Greece for good in 1964 , the same year as his son Dimitri.
In Athens he lived in an apartment at Spartis 7 Street, in the
same building as his daughter Eleni, who lived on the 7th floor. Grandfather's
life
in Athens was radically different from his way of life in Tanganyika . He
usually wore a dark suit and a tie, and sometimes a hat. Every
day his routine was exactly the same. He got up, shaved, had a healthy
breakfast, and would go for a walk which ended at Platia Amerikis. He always patronized the same
kafenio, where he sat with his friends
discussing the news of the day, reading the paper, and watching people go
by. Then lunch with some
wine, a nap, and in the afternoon another walk and another kafenio
session. Back to his house for dinner and some more wine, and then he would read and go
to sleep. He ate a lot of yogurt, vegetables, and fruit, loved
fish, and always drank wine with his meals. His habits were so regular
you could set your watch by him. His children paid a housekeeper to
clean and cook for him. In
Athens, Grandfather had a tan Peugeot 403 car and a hired driver, Anestis,
who was a Greek refuge from Asia Minor. In the 1960s, when I was in
boarding school at the Athens College, Grandfather would sometimes come to school to pick me up for the weekend and deliver me to my aunt Eleni, my
guardian (as my parents were in in Africa). One time he took me to see the war
movie "The Sands of Iwo
Jima" just to please me. When
my family moved to Athens and lived in the apartment at Spartis 3, Grandfather would often
come to visit. He would sit quietly, not saying much at all, and not hearing
much either because he was losing his hearing, while we would try and make
shouted, uneasy conversation. But Grandfather was
quite content to sit quietly, just enjoying the companionship. A few hours
later he would slowly get up and wander on home. When
TV first came to Greece in the late 1960s Grandfather bought one and spent
most evenings watching terrible, black and white Greek movies or the news.
Sometimes
my sister, Elli, and I would go over and watch the Lucy Show or Lassie. We
would leave with our ear drums ringing as the volume was always too loud. Grandfather
spoke Greek, Turkish, English, Swahili, and some French. He was a tall, good looking man. One summer in the 1970s he came to visit us
on his way to his afternoon kafenio session. He had just returned from a
week-long holiday at Loutraki, a popular seaside vacation spot, and he
looked great; he was deeply tanned and his blue eyes sparkled, and he was full of
humor. As he left for the kafenio he chuckled and said, " Well, I
guess I'll go to the kafenio to see which one of my friends died while I was
gone, and which one is left." He was in his late 90s then and had just
started to use a walking stick. Once,
my uncle Dimitri and I were talking to Grandfather about his days on Tenedos and
about the sailing ship that his family owned. To our great
surprise, he easily drew a remarkably accurate outline of it on a
piece of paper.
In 1977
Grandfather Gregory fell in his bathtub and broke his hip. He was
taken to the KAT hospital in Athens and to everyone's amazement the
broken bones healed. Unfortunately, the prolonged period of immobility and
lying on his back required to heal his hip led to pneumonia. On May 24
he passed away from complications due to pneumonia, at the age of 102. My Uncle Dimitri says that he was
"blessed to the end of his long life
with an amazing clarity of mind and remarkable memory."
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