By Kathy Karageorgiou.
Resilience is the main word that comes to mind when I think of my ‘special’ Aunts. Special, because they were inspirational – a part of the Greek Australian migration experience.
Theia Maria (a sister of Dad’s), Theia Eleftheria (one of mum’s sisters) and Theia Rena (Mum’s brother’s wife) played a pivotal role in my life and still do, even beyond their lifetimes (unfortunately all three passed away a few years back).
Theia Maria:
Theia Maria migrated to Australia with her husband and young son in the 1950s. Unlike her husband, she never liked it there. After years of patience in Australia, working hard and saving money, she gave my poor uncle the ultimatum: “I’m going to Greece with our son, even if you don’t want to.”
The family did return to Greece in 1966. Theia Maria bought an apartment in Ambelokipi, Athens, then a well-to-do area. Utilising skills she learned working in a clothing factory in Australia, she and her girlfriend in Greece, Nitsa, opened up a small haute couture business, making clothes for Athenian upper-class ladies.
After decades of hard work, bent over a needle and thread so to speak, Theia Maria sent their son to study in England. This sassy lady also managed to buy her own holiday apartment with a beautiful view of the sea and the Rio Antirio Bridge.
Her sense of style and poise reflected not only in her appearance, but manifested in all she was and did. For example, she would glide round her small kitchen on fleece cloth pads under each foot, polishing the floor while stirring her delicious food. Simultaneously, she’d turn up the radio when a Greek song of her liking came on, while reaching for her ouzaki aperitif. And the trapezia she’d put on were monumental: served with leisurely grace and good cheer.
It was Greece’s relaxed way of life she missed while in Australia. The long lunches, the siesta, the weather; a local taverna meal with live musicians and an often impromptu sing along and dance. Dressing up for a walk to a nearby cafe to enjoy a coffee and cake.
Theia Maria taught me much: To be wise with money, to appreciate every moment (she grew up during active war in the 1940’s). She taught me to be independent by working, and to have self respect by taking care of one’s appearance. She practiced not preached, and I was in awe of her example, with her shrewd humour, her abstinence from gossip, her overall dignity. She lives on.
Theia Eleftheria:
My other aunt Theia Eleftheria, migrated to Melbourne with her husband in the 1950s. She too worked in a factory, but Theia Eleftheria loved her years in Australia.
Fascinated by the Australian people, she considered them polite and inspiring, forgiving some of their misgivings such as drunkenness outside the local pubs. She liked to talk about Fitzroy, her suburb in Melbourne, and her kind boss at the factory who always greeted her and got her name right.
Prompted by her husband, they returned to Greece, to his village in 1965, when not long after he passed away. She was 30 years of age and remained a widow. Her children moved on, and she lived alone for the remainder of her life in her humble, village house among her extraordinary, garden including even a banana tree.
She was a wonderful cook, and an avid reader ranging from newspapers to books of all types and poetry. Theia Eleftheria had confided in me that she loved poetry and had composed her own poems. She read them to me in her gently, shy voice.
A quiet, sensitive woman everyone loved, yet tough: living by herself and tending to her husband’s olive groves alone.
Appearances weren’t important to her. Her house and self were always clean and minimal. The neighbours and their children would visit her regularly, for a post siesta coffee and her home made περγαμόντο (bergamot) spoon sweet, on her porch surrounded by her beautiful flowers, plants and trees.
Theia Eleftheria taught me how to make a mean kritharaki (small pasta shapes) and chicken in homemade tomato sauce. How to appreciate poetry and nature. How in kindness and gentleness there is such power. How patience is a virtue, reflected in her face – a picture of peace and yes, saintliness.
Forever in my heart my dear Theia Eleftheria.
Theia Rena:
My Theia Rena was an extraordinary, beautiful, eccentric woman. She had a sweet, high pitched, little girl sing-song voice, and beautiful, porcelain, plumpish skin. Such charisma exuded from her that I blushed when I secretly heard my Dad and another uncle referring to her as ‘η φράπα μας’ (a juicy fruit).
Theia Rena would naturally giggle and wiggle a lot. She and her husband were childless, though as
fate would have it she adored children, but had her cats.
She spent 15 years in Australia (1964-1977), before building a lovely house in Athens incorporating all her home belongings from Australia. Cups and saucers, record players, a laminate table and chairs, Australian themed serving trays and tea towels, and even tins of International roast coffee and Ponds beauty creams.
Theia Rena grew up poor in a village and appreciated the opportunities Australia gave her. She too had worked in a factory and never complained; just put her head down at work. Yet at home she was the belle of the ball, as she and my uncle put on many parties in Australia. But there was a dark side, particularly pronounced when she lost her beloved husband, my uncle.
Proud and diplomatic, she rarely opened up emotionally, stressing “do not trust anyone.” Although in words she was measured, in actions – she was all encompassing, always hugging and kissing me.
Theia Rena taught me the power of expressing affection, of touch. She taught me that you just have to push through and make the most of things. She taught me to refrain from naivete and opening up to people too soon. She taught me to enjoy every aspect of being a woman.
All three, iconic women: I am deeply honoured to have known them.
