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6

The Teacher

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Why

lobalization,” his teacher had said during their last

meeting. And he had wondered, “Globalization?! What in

the world does it mean?” “It means that we will all become one,

whites will marry blacks, Jews will marry Germans, cockroaches

will mate with octopi and I’ll end up with Kiki!”

He was trying to spot Kiki among the crowd that had

gathered on the pier to meet the boat arriving at Poros. He

was coming home from his last trip. “Home at last!” Mimis

was a nautical engineer and after thirty years of travelling by

sea, he had decided that it was time to retire. He would start

receiving his pension and planned on opening a small boiler

sales and repair shop that would service the island homes. He

and Kiki had come up with the plan over the phone a few days

ago, while he was still in Africa. But where was Kiki now to

help him with his luggages? He wanted to give her a hug and

celebrate his return home for good. They may not have been

most compatible couple, but his long time absences only made

the heart grow fonder, and every time he returned it was her

warm bosom that he always thought of as his true harbor.

He had brought her presents and other little things that she

had requested for herself and the children, but she was nowhere

to be seen. He piled his boxes and suitcases into Kostas’s cab all

by himself. Kostas was the only one on hand to welcome him

home. They had known each other since they were boys, having

grown up on the island together.

His sister-in-law Roula was at home to greet him when he

got there. She had been recently widowed and had come to live

with her sister to help out with the children. He scooped his two

children into his arms and held them tight. He embraced Roula

as well, whose bosom was as warm as his wife’s. The children

hung off him as he tore open the boxes to give them the toys he

had brought them, while asking Roula:

“Where’s Kiki?”

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Why

“Mimis, Kiki went to Athens to visit a gynecologist there,”

Roula said.

“Just like that, out of the blue? I spoke to her yesterday and

she didn’t mention anything to me.”

“Kourtis the gynecologist came to the island . . .”

“The son of Kourtis who owned the pharmacy?”

“Yes, that’s him Mimis.”

“And he’s my teacher Kourtis’s nephew right?”

“Yes Mimis, exactly,” Roula said nervously. “Kiki had

been having some trouble while you were gone and she went

to see him to get his opinion. As you know, there’s no other

gynecologist on the island.”

“Kiki’s been having gynecological problems while I

was gone? How’s that possible?” Miki asked, furrowing his

brow. “Why didn’t she say anything to me? We spoke just

yesterday . . .”

“I know Mimis but you can’t talk to men about things

like this, and especially not over the phone. Don’t you

understand?”

“Alright, she went to see the doctor and where is she

now?”

“Last night she was in pain again and experienced some

bleeding. She went to see Kourtis early in the morning and he

told her to go to Athens immediately so that he could examine

her in his clinic. She caught the eight o’clock Flying Dolphin

boat to Piraeus this morning and didn’t have time to let you

know. Sit down and I’ll make you some coffee. She should be

calling any minute now. I’m anxious to hear how things went

too,” Roula said kindly, trying to get him to show that he had

understood.

Roula was younger and prettier than her sister. He had

chosen Kiki because she was the wilder of the two and knew how

to swear! Mimis had just graduated from the Naval Academy

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Why

when he first saw her on the road with her friends as they were

on their way back from the beach. As Mimis was driving by on

his motorbike he reached out and undid her bikini top. Kiki

suddenly found herself topless in front of everyone, who broke

out in cheers and spontaneous applause.

“Go to hell you rookie bastard,” she yelled.

“We’ll go there together,” he answered back, celebrating his

prank.

And they did. A little while later he went to her parents and

asked for her hand in marriage. Her mother didn’t like him, but

her father appreciated Mimis’s Navy job because he knew that

he would have a steady income and future because of it. And so

he agreed. Kiki was coy at first but she didn’t want to end up an

old maid either. She knew that he would be away at sea most of

the time anyway and so she said yes.

“Why hasn’t she called yet?” Mimis asked glancing at his

watch.

At that moment the phone rang. Roula answered and then

passed him the receiver.

“It’s for you Mimis,” she said.

As soon as he put the phone up to his ear he heard the

excited voice of one of his old classmates shouting:

“Hey Mimis, my man, It’s me, Vangelis the shipping tycoon,

remember me?”

Vangelis the “tycoon” was one of his former classmates who,

after leaving the Navy, had invested some of his wife’s money

in a business that rented out a small number of yachts. That’s

how he had earned the nickname “tycoon.” He lived in Kastela

all year long and had taken it upon himself to round up all the

boys from their class of the Naval Academy each year, usually

in summer, for a reunion.

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Why

“You’ve got to come to the Skouna tavern tonight—no

excuses. Lots of people are going to be there. Kourtis and

Argyriou the gym teacher said they’d show up.”

These kinds of reunions happened frequently. For some

reason, the experiences that they had shared during their youth,

at the Naval Academy of Poros, had created a strong bond

between them and they saw each other more like brothers.

Those who didn’t run into each other in the course of working

on the ships never missed a night of wine and merriment at

the tavern. If it was mentioned that “Kourtis would be there,”

even more of them showed up. Kourtis had been their math

teacher but he had bonded with most of the boys outside of

class as well, because as they said, he taught them to live. For

this reason his students still called him “Teacher” even until

now, or “Bobby,” which was his first name. Back then he was

young and intelligent with a thirst for knowledge; he was a man

of philosophy whose lesson extended far beyond the school

subject that he was teaching. Just imagine that although the

military Junta was governing the country then, he dared to slip

other books into the math textbook and sneak them into the

classroom undetected. He introduced them to Kazantzakis,

Cavafy and Kavvadias. Mimis agreed with most of what he

taught them, but he had observed him carefully from the

beginning and he saw something in him—some small aspects

of his personality that he considered to be strange. Most of

his classmates swore by his advice and he too had gone to ask

his opinion at crucial junctures in his life, even after having

graduated. When he was thinking about leaving the Navy and

going to work as an engineer for commercial ships, he sought

him out. He called him up and asked him if they could meet up.

Kourtis responded by saying:

“Come by the racetrack on Wednesday afternoon.”

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Why

“The race track? What are we going to do there?” Mimis

had asked.

“What do you think people do at the racetrack Mimis? I go

and bet on a horse or two, it adds a little spice to my life.”

That wasn’t all. As a school boy he had heard rumors

that the headmaster wanted to fire him because he played

poker with the dock workers and kept company with some

women—English tourists—who would end up staying all winter

on Poros. Mimis would think, “just a second there, buddy. You

teach us these supposedly profound life lessons every morning,

and then you’re off to gamble at the race track and the poker

table?” Those were the doubts he had about the Teacher, but

would never miss a reunion nonetheless.

So even today, he confirmed that he would be present at

the gathering even though he had come in late and Kiki was

still not back yet nor had she called. Both he and Roula were

starting to get worried. She wasn’t answering on her mobile

phone and the doctor wasn’t picking up at his office either. He

went down to the tavern to say a quick hello but wanted to get

home early. Mimis mentioned in passing to his friends that his

wife had gone to visit the Teacher’s nephew but that she wasn’t

back yet and was worried.

“Weren’t you the one who was always off at sea?” the

Teacher asked him.

“Yeah sure, I’m a sailor, where else would I have been?”

Mimis said. “That’s why Kiki married me in the first place.”

“Then listen up, it was Kazantzakis who said that ‘a woman

who sleeps alone brings shame on all mankind’.”

“So now you tell me Teacher, after I’ve given up the sea!”

Mimis responded.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard Mimis’s quip.

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Why

“You’d better watch out because my nephew the doctor is

quite a rascal,” the Teacher said suspiciously. “Don’t say I didn’t

warn you!”

What could he say to that? He got up and ran out. They

badgered the police and everybody else they could think of, but

Kiki did not appear not even the next day, or the next week, or

the next month. Why? Because she had abandoned her husband

and children to run off with the gynecologist.

The thing that bothered him the most was the timing of

Kiki’s betrayal. He didn’t waste any time before falling into the

next available pair of arms, that of his sister-in-law. She gave

in without making much of a fuss and was pleased even more

than him. She was jealous of her sister and had always liked

Mimis.

If the truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he had strayed

from Kiki and was unfaithful. Every summer when he returned

from the ship for vacation, Kiki—who was particularly social

and outgoing—would gather all her friends from Athens to

Poros and invite them to stay in their home. He in turn, the

young and handsome sailor, would show them Poros’s beauties

as well as some of his own. As if he could pass up an opportunity

like that! Once, his mother-in-law, who didn’t like him, caught

him in the act just as he was planting a kiss on a pretty blonde.

Mimis didn’t let it go by without defending himself. He cleared

his name only as sailors know how. A few days later he took

the kids swimming along with the old bag. She was in the sea

when his son came running up to him saying, “Dada, come

quick! Grandma’s drowning!” He ran into the sea and instead

of pulling her out, he dealt her a blow to the head that sent her

right back under. When he saw that she had stopped moving,

he started to shout for help and everyone came running to

save her but, to no avail. Nobody could bring her round and

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Why

the poor old woman suffered from asthma to boot! That was

Mimis’s way.

* * * At the next class outing, Mimis sat across from the Teacher

who asked him at some point:

“So what was the story with your wife and the doctor,

Mimis?”

He bit his lip at first, but then decided that he had to get

even with this smart-ass. The Teacher was married now and

lived the quiet life of retirement, outside of Tripolis, tending to

his father-in-law’s olive grove. The best man at his wedding had

been one of his former students. The boy had never been strong

academically but was a great football player. The Teacher was a

huge football fan.

“Teacher, I have a parrot that I brought back from Africa.

Do you know what I taught him to say? That line that you used

to quote from a poem by Cavafy: “another city will be found,

better than this one.”

“Mimis, that’s not the exact meaning of the poem, you have

to read the before and after . . . It’s about a person who’s looking

for happiness in all the wrong places,” the Teacher corrected

him.

“Don’t start lecturing me on happiness now Teacher! What

is happiness anyway? Wasn’t it you who told us that ‘happiness is

living all of life’s sorrows,’ just as Kazantzakis says in Asceticism?

Well that’s what I’m doing!”

Mimis’s father, who was born and bred on Poros, had

enrolled him in the Naval Academy when he was thirteen

years old. Around that time he had started to blow off school

for friends and motorbikes. His obsession with motorbikes was

the reason that his father decided to send him to a boarding

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Why

school so that he could become a nautical engineer. According

to Mimis, he was the greatest martyr of all time for enduring it.

He didn’t see it as a school, but as a prison. He thought about

running away; he planned to swim across to the Peloponnese

and disappear. There was nowhere he could go on the island

without someone he knew recognizing him. His second plan

was to be so unruly that they’d kick him out themselves. His

mother intervened by saying, “listen up kiddo, you had better

behave because if you don’t, your father’s going to load you

straight onto a commercial fishing boat as a deck hand.” He

wasn’t sure if that would be worse than what he was currently

living, but his mother’s tone scared him into submission. He

crouched into a corner and decided to submit to his fate. He

dreamed of wearing a Navy uniform and travelling to foreign

countries and cities. He would find other ports as well as new

people, who were quite different from the harsh brass hats that

were giving him a hard time now.

Everyone outside of the Navy Academy called Mimis “rice

pilaf,” even when he left school for a day, because that was

mostly what they ate in the dreary dining hall, day in, day out.

Well sometimes they did get some oven-baked cod or over

boiled potatoes. The punishing army drills had knocked the

stuffing out of him, leaving him humiliated beyond belief. The

school may have tried to enforce military-style discipline but

the boys were young—thirteen to sixteen years old—and many

of them found it difficult to cope. For no apparent reason, they

might find themselves measuring the running track with a

matchstick, or jumping like a kangaroo, or walking like a duck.

It was absolutely mortifying. Mimis could remember hellish

nights when, after the boys were already in their pyjamas, they

would have them hold out their pillows like shields. Then they

would shout “one, two, three, down,” which was an order for

them to jump three times then sink into a low squat, and then

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Why

the sequence was repeated, for as long as they could possibly

keep going.

To make matters worse they had assigned authority to

the older students who took great pleasure in torturing the

new recruits, or “fresh fish” as they were called. Other than

making sure that they had a good time themselves, the older

boys cruelly singled out the weaker kids and picked on them

to the point where they sometimes even left the Academy. If

one of the younger recruits got on their bad side they assigned

punishment, which usually meant doing hard manual labor

three times a day. The tasks were usually scrubbing pots in

the mess hall, cleaning the school and mainly cleaning the

“John”—there was no getting out of that. It was not uncommon

for the older boys to occasionally choose a victim whom they

would terrify in a manner befitting the victim’s character and

sometimes even at night when he was trying to sleep. They

would back him into a corner and beat him to a pulp. In terms

of harshness, the beatings dealt out by navy boys surpassed

even that which would be dealt by the most wicked warship

officer or captain. It far surpassed the logic and substance of

military regulation. Squealing, betrayal and cunning tricks were

part and parcel of most of the older students’ behavior, of those

had been assigned authority. These horror stories would spread

throughout the school to the other students, who constantly

experienced fear and panic, and remained stiffly alert at all

times. One drill followed another: parade drill, deck call drill,

drill with a weapon, without a weapon, there was no end to the

ordeal. And when they were getting ready to get on-board a

ship as part of their training, the suffering of being in uniform

began. They had to wash and iron their clothes, crease their

pants, and press their pea jackets. Their sword belts had to be

buffed and their hats starched, their shoes polished until they

shone.

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This situation exceeded the limits of military training and

education. The thirteen year old boys felt that they were being

tormented and had terrible nightmares while they slept. And

yet the Teacher, Bobby, whom everyone adored, had not said

one word about it; he had not done a thing to put an end to this

wickedness.

However Mimis had conceived a way of dealing with this

from the very beginning. It had to do with some of the younger

students who had banded together to form a clique. Or perhaps

it was really the Teacher who had formed this clique from a

select group of students whom he had chosen in accordance

with his own inclinations—students to whom he gave

preferential treatment and responsibilities. One of the most

significant privileges, for those chosen few, was that he gathered

them at the house which he had rented on the island during the

Sundays that they were on leave, and permitted them to smoke.

Smoking was strictly forbidden both in the Academy and

outside it. Anyone caught smoking was automatically given the

manual labor punishment or even expelled. Despite the harsh

rule, most of the students smoked. Even the older students

smoked, despite the fact that one of their duties was to punish

anyone caught smoking. That is how the Teacher’s little group

of students—who called him Bobby—during their Sunday

discussions, felt special and privileged. They felt invincible,

going so far as to say that Bobby offered them smokes himself.

Whatever plans they talked about or concocted during these

meetings was never known. There may have been some covert

dalliances with girls, because some of the boys returned to

school looking awfully pleased. Bobby bent the rules for them

and this is why they loved him.

Mimis himself never smoked, but then again he wasn’t the

Teacher’s first or even second pick. Once, when one of his select

group of students was caught smoking and brought before the

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Why

teacher’s board, Bobby advocated the toughest punishment.

The other students reacted, asking him, “why were you the one

demanding that he receive the strictest punishment?” His reply

was unbelievable.

“I fought for the boy to be allowed to come before the

Teacher’s council and I fought for him to be given the chance

to defend himself before the final ruling and punishment was

assigned. Meaning, we can’t teach you about what’s fair and

democratic as well as about the rights of each person, and then

make decisions that don’t follow the same ethic. What I did

was stand up for your rights. After having convinced the other

teachers of this, the boy came in to testify and said: “I don’t have

anything to say about what I did.” That’s all the numbskull had

to say, the first time we let a student defend himself! Now do

you understand?”

They understood but they didn’t forgive him for it. He was

telling this story to Roula, with whom he had started a new life.

She listened attentively, “tsk tsking” in moments of indignance

and saying “oh oh oh” when what she heard unsettled her. It had

been some time since Mimis had started his boiler repair and

sales business but he wasn’t very busy. Poros didn’t have much

cold weather so the boilers were not in need of repair that often,

not to mention that the older houses didn’t even have boilers. In

moments like these, he would come down with an awful case of

“cabin fever.” This was a condition—a kind of boredom—that

befell sailors trapped in the steel cabin of the ship’s belly on the

fourth day of their journey after having left the port. But “cabin

fever” on dry land had a somewhat opposite effect; it made one

want to leave. This arose from the feeling that only sailors made

sense and people on dry land were boring and tedious.

Roula, who had learned to read his moods, understood this

and one day she said to him, “why don’t you sell our parrot?”

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Why

“Why would I sell the African parrot who knows how to

recite Cavafy? Do you know how much that bird is worth?”

“That’s why you should sell it, because he’s worth something.

People ask you for him all the time in any case.”

“And then what? I’ll be left without a parrot,” Mimis said

dejectedly.

“Get another parrot,” Roula said simply.

She was a smart woman who had a way of convincing

him to do things. She was especially persuasive when she said,

“Ithaca has already given you the beautiful journey . . . but it

doesn’t have anything more to give.”

“Where’d you hear that?” he asked her one day.

“In one of the books you have of Cavafy’s poetry,” Roula

said. “Even though I’m not very fond of him and “his sort,” I still

like what he has to say. Wasn’t Kazantzakis an atheist too?”

“That’s what they say. He probably had his own God, as the

Teacher used to say.”

“Well that’s nice! What a great teacher you had! He picked

out such lovely books for you children to read at home, written

by homosexuals and atheists!”

* * * The fact was that Roula had toiled long and hard to

finish high school. She wanted to be either a hairdresser or a

beautician. She had heard “Ithaca” recited by some bimbo on

a gossipy afternoon television talk show, and it had struck her

as noteworthy. Mimis loved her because of the fact that she

wasn’t as hysterical as Kiki had been. She had a mild-mannered

temperament combined with a naturally sweet and polite

demeanor. She didn’t talk much, but when she was upset she

ate a lot of sweets. That was all—no shouting matches or angry

scenes. Her habit resulted in her being a bit plump, but no one

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Why

would say she was fat. She was cute, fleshy and round, normally

shy, but a volcano in bed. She dressed in an attractive, simple

way, always stylish, with lipstick and eye shadow to complete

her look. Her hair was brown and her hairstyle was a bit

old-fashioned with the ends flipping out above her shoulders

like Jackie Kennedy’s. Her skin was smooth, translucent and

very pale because she never sat out in the sun and she wore

big, round sunglasses all year long. What she said got through

to Mimis and he thought about it. The next day he went online

and found the shop where he had bought his parrot in Cape

Town, South Africa. Once he confirmed his order to have

another parrot sent to him, he sold the one he had which knew

how to recite Cavafy.

Mimis arranged for his new parrot’s transport to Greece

through friends and colleagues who sailed to Africa often.

When he went to go pick up his new parrot they gave him an

additional box from the same sender. He opened it up and what

did he see? Three scorpions, a spider, a few beetles and a snake

in a plastic box. They were all definitely alive, quite frisky, and

obviously hungry.

He sent a message to the dealer asking him, “what are these

things that you’ve sent me?” The dealer replied that he sent along

a few other creatures as samples. He suggested that Mimis sell

them to pet shops or whoever else was interested. Roula was

excited by the idea because there weren’t many people in this

kind of business. Mimis found buyers right away for the rare

and original creatures. That wasn’t all; he began receiving orders

for other animals, including parrots and other birds, as well as

snakes and spiders. He managed to set up a little business that

considerably improved their financial situation. After a while

the African merchant sent him a catalogue with larger animals

for sale. There was everything from pythons and monkeys to

lions and elephants, which he could sell directly to circuses and

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Why

amusement parks. He managed that as well. He sold a lion and

monkeys and a tiger, he even discussed the potential sale of an

elephant! He travelled around Greece, catalogue in hand, taking

orders. He even sold an enormous python to a cabaret show

because a dancer wanted it wrapped around her neck while she

did her striptease number.

The first thing he bought with his profits was a Rolex watch

for Roula. He gave it to her, reciting a line by the poet. “Roula,

my dear, ‘for some people there comes a day when they must

say either a big YES or a big NO’.”

Roula immediately responded with, “let’s see when you’ll

say ‘Yes’ to me in front of the priest!” He had been with Roula

all these years without marrying her, as if she was his wife since

she took care of the children. He bought her a car and they

fixed up the house by installing a fireplace and a pergola out

back. They were able to help out the children financially, who

had grown up in the meantime.

* * * He wasn’t sure whether the things that the Teacher had

taught him were very useful, since from the very first day that

Mimis set foot on a ship as a young sailor, they handed him a

mop and had him swab the deck for hours on end. It took him

a long time before he finally got a good look at an engine room

and held a flashlight in his hand. A flashlight is a necessary tool

for any mechanic and for him it was his scepter. He used it to

examine the level of water in the bilge, the pressure dials and

valves, as well as the bolts in the dark recesses of the engine

room. It’s what he threw and smashed when he was angry. He

had learned to live in the dark of the engine room, many levels

below the sunlight, in temperatures of forty five degrees Celsius

or even hotter, drenched in sweat and smudged black with coal.

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The rhythmic humming of the engines calmed him and when

he couldn’t hear it he would wake up abruptly, fearing that

something was wrong. He had learned to use his time in the hot

cavern for musing and nostalgic thoughts, he would dream of

his wife and whisper sweet, hot erotic secrets that only sailors

can say out loud, into her imaginary ear. He held onto her

scent, the smell of the house and the warmth of the living room

during festive moments with the children, nostalgia . . . It was

the nostalgic longing that could drive one mad on long trips. To

see another ship with a Greek flag made him feel crazy with joy.

Ships have only two places that mattered to him; the stern which

symbolized farewells, departures, and wishes for a safe journey;

and the bow, which reminded him of the harbor and the joy

of homecoming. And then everything changed. The bread, the

water, his woman—they all tasted differently. Just imagine how

humans have entrusted their riches, their children, even their

gods to the thin shell of a boat’s hull.

“How do you come up with all the wonderful things that

you say?” Roula would ask who liked it when he spoke sweet

words of love to her in sailor talk.

“It’s all Kazantzakis’s and the Teacher’s fault,” he’d tell her.

The sea was his catalyst, and moments would come when

his “other self ” would awaken—that part of him that was

created out of his experiences as a young sailor. This medley of

ideas, writings, and thoughts would churn in his mind, going

round and round in a way that made it impossible for him to

arrive at any logic.

“I was kicked, beaten to a pulp, and stepped on like a

worm. They took every ounce of pride and dignity away

from me. They moulded me into a machine of war, a faceless

tin soldier. They made me give up every comfort that I

carried with me—God, my country, my mother, my family,

the truth, my value system—not so I could carve out new

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Why

responsibilities for myself, but so that I could carry out their

orders. “Salute cadet, salute sir, salute commander, salute, salute,

salute . . . Clarinet—ATTENTION—About face—Forward

MARCH—Incline RIGHT—HALT—never look them in the

eyes—never tell them who you are—what you want—if you’re

hungry—if you’re in pain . . . Kneel, bend over, bend further,

deeper, as deeply as you can . . . The deeper, the better!” I just

couldn’t take it anymore, Roula. On the first voyage I saw

the Naval Officer rubbing and polishing a sharp knife on his

uniform. When we got to Morocco I went out a bought one

too, just like in the Kavvadias poem. It’s a good thing I read it

because, “since I have no one I hate enough to kill in this world/

I’m sometimes afraid I’ll turn the blade on myself.”

“Every time you go out with your old classmates you come

home different,” Roula told him as she took away his glass of

whisky.

“You know what the Teacher said to me? I’ll tell you Roula,”

Mimis said as he reached out and got his drink back. “‘What is

our duty?’ asked the old curmudgeon. Then he said: ‘If you’re

a wolf you eat, and if you’re a lamb you get eaten! God is the

biggest wolf; he eats lambs and tigers alike, whole!’”

“Did he say this to you recently?”

“Yeah, when I saw him the other night during our gathering

at the tavern and he even invited me out to his house in Tripoli.

He said I should come down and we could do a little betting on

football. You know what that reminded me of? A time when we

were in the middle of the Red Sea and our ship hit a Chinese

container late at night. The force of the collision threw me out

of my bunk and I ran up on deck to see what was happening.

I saw the bow going up in flames because of the fuel tanks up

front. We all grabbed the hoses to put out the fire. The Chinese

ship drifted away but we saw three or four of our Filipino

sailors, who had been out front, becoming trapped by the fire.

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They didn’t know where to go. We doused them with water

but the water only pushed the fire towards them. “Jump into

the sea,” ‘an officer yelled out. Having no choice, they jumped.

Someone started yelling, “Sharks! They’re going to be eaten

alive by the sharks!” We all flew to the railing and pointed the

spotlight to see what was happening while tossing them life

preservers. The unlucky men who had jumped off the port side

began to scream in terror because sharks had already started

to circle around them in the water. The men on the starboard

side weren’t in danger yet. We got word to the captain to stop

the ship so that we could lower the lifeboat and save them. The

Captain said: “Impossible. I have to keep on course because

there’s damage to the boat and the water has started leaking

in.” We yelled back that the men were about to get mauled by

sharks. “I called the coastguard to come pick them up,” said the

second in command. “What can we do? Let the boat sink to save

four Filipinos?” I looked down at the water. One of the men

was already being ripped apart by the savage shark. I ran up

to the bridge to find the Captain. “Captain, have mercy, by the

grace of God,” I said, shaking him. “Those men are going to be

devoured by the sharks! One already has been, nobody’s going

to survive . . . stop so we can lower the lifeboat.” And do you

know what his response was? “God protects me when everyone

else drowns and only I survive. God protects me even when

everyone else survives and I’m the only one to drown.” The

Teacher had quoted the same line to us at school. I remembered

it being from the Last Temptation. Enough was enough . . . I told

him that Kazantzakis wasn’t for sailors. I told the Teacher the

same thing, the last time I saw him.”

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* * * Mimis had been tormented by his doubts about the Teacher

for years now. These thoughts were now becoming even more

intense as Roula added to fuel to the fire with her questions; she

could see that something was eating away at him.

“You shouldn’t let things like these make you become

bitter,” she told him, stroking his salt-toughened arms. “Nothing

should poison our lives.”

Over the days that she was saying such things to him,

Mimis appeared one morning clutching in his hand a paper

that had been delivered from court by the bailiff.

“That’s all we needed, Kiki has finally woken up,” Mimis

said, waving the piece of paper in front of her. “Your lovely sister

has filed a law suit demanding half of my assets. She claims that

since she was married to me for so long she has a right to a fifty

percent share.”

Roula wiped off her hands on her apron and snatched the

piece of paper from his hand. She read it over before throwing

it on the table and saying loudly and angrily:

“I was the one you kept you on dry land, I made you what

you are, I took care of her children like they were my own after

she abandoned them and now that fool thinks she’s going to

throw us out onto the street? Where is she? Is she on Poros?”

“She’s here from what I know,” Mimis answered.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to straighten her out once and for

all,” she told Mimis confidently.

He had never seen Roula so upset before. He had never

seen her break into a sweat and wipe her forehead. He had

never seen her eyes wet with tears, because she had never cried

in front of him before. He had never seen her hands shake out

of anger and frustration. He hadn’t seen anything yet . . . After

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taking a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly,

she approached Mimis, looked into his eyes and said:

“Remember that I said that I won’t allow anything to poison

our relationship? Make sure you do the same. Leave Kiki to me,”

she said decisively, putting her hand over her heart.

A few days later, Mimis was getting ready to leave for a

short trip. He was going to Patras and Pyrgos to show a few

shops some specimens of parrots, fish and lizards to see if they

wanted to order from him, as well as a few snakes and a monkey

at a circus in Tripolis.

“I’ve been thinking Roula, since I’m going to be in Tripolis

anyway, I might pay the Teacher a visit. He lives there now and

he’s invited me so many times. I gave him a call and he asked

me to stay over but I’ll be back the next day.”

“When are you leaving?” Roula asked, bringing no objection

to his plan.

“I was thinking of leaving this afternoon so that I can get

to Patras tonight, sleep there, and after finishing my work there

in the morning, go to Pyrgos. From there, I would head up to

Tripolis to spend the night at the Teacher’s house and have a

glass of wine with him. The next day I’ll visit the circus to do

whatever I have to do there and come home.”

Roula looked at him for a moment without saying anything

as if she was contemplating something. Then she said:

“You should go but don’t let him get to you again, that’s

all.”

“I feel sorry for him, Roula. He’s retired and helpless and

he doesn’t have any children of his own. He tells us that we’re

his children.”

“Alright,” Roula said.

Mimis went down to the basement where he kept a few

spare cages, baskets and special glass and plastic containers with

a few snakes, lizards and other creatures. In a beautiful, large

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cage he had an African Grey parrot that he had also trained to

recite Cavafy. “As if you’ve been ready for a while and are brave

Mimis,” the parrot said, making him laugh. He repeated the line

a few times, as he always did when he saw him.

He prepared the cages with some of the creatures that

he was taking with him: lizards, two red scorpions, a spider,

a potable aquarium with a few fish and a big basket that

contained the snake—an African mamba. Lately his customers

had been requesting more dangerous and aggressive creatures,

which is why he was taking these specimens along with him.

He kept them under double locks and was careful about who

he sold them to. Since they were what the customers wanted,

why not bring them with him. The more dangerous the species,

the bigger their adrenaline rush they said; why should it matter

to him? Mimis raised the price accordingly. At that moment

Roula came halfway down the stairs and paused. The light that

filtered through the door into the dark basement illuminated

half her face, transforming its round sweetness into something

cruel and hard.

“Before you go, I would like for us to finish a task,” she said

coldly.

“What task? Mimis asked.

She approached him and pointed at the clear plastic

container that held the spider.

“Put that in here,” she ordered, holding out a small square

cardboard box.

“What do you want the spider for Roula?” Mimis asked.

“Isn’t it a Black Widow?” she asked dryly.

“No, I sold the Black Widow. This one’s even worse, an

Australian spider that a customer traded in. He didn’t want

it anymore because it was too deadly. Do you see these two

fangs? They can slice right through your fingernail if it bites

you. It has a neurotoxic poison that paralyzes the body’s central

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nervous system,” Mimis said proudly, as if he were showing her

a precious gem. “Just look at her,” he said holding the box up.

“She can kill a man in ten minutes flat. The poison causes the

glands to go crazy, destroying the body’s cells!”

“Good. Put it in the box. I’m going to turn your ex-wife

into your dead ex-wife,” Roula said like a real shrew.

Mimis carefully picked up the spider, with a touch of

revulsion, and put it in the box.

“Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t let anything poison us?”

Roula asked sternly. “Now come with me,” she said firmly as she

pulled him out of the basement.

They got into her car and drove down to the port from

their home in Askeli. They parked the car next to the school

and walked the rest of the way to the town square where the

city hall was located. It was four o’clock in the afternoon at the

beginning of summer. The shops were closed and everyone was

taking their afternoon siesta. Carrying the box containing the

spider, the couple walked down an alley and came out onto the

square, then they climbed up a narrow pedestrian street with

broad cobblestone steps. They quietly approached an old house

where Kiki, Roula’s sister, lived. It was Kourtis the doctor’s

house and Kiki was asleep in the ground floor bedroom that

looked onto the street. Roula was well aware of all this already.

She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the gaps of the

shuttered window. She saw Kiki sleeping alone on the bed. She

already knew that she would be alone. She had gone to see the

lawyer who was working on the case to take their money and

the house.

Roula took the box and tipped the spider through a gap in

the shutters, letting it fall into the room. She turned and nodded

her head that it was time to go. They hurried away down the

same steps they had climbed just moments before. They were

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almost running by the time they got to their car. They made it

home without anyone noticing a thing.

“Now get in your car and go,” she told Mimis.

Mimis loaded his things into the car without speaking. He

took the boxes containing all the creatures, the aquarium and

the snake basket and got ready to leave. “As if you’ve been ready

for a while and are brave Mimis,” the parrot repeated once more.

He kissed Roula goodbye, got into his car and departed.

Mimis finished up his business pretty quickly. He gave

Roula a call when he got to Pyrgos the next day.

“Make sure you’re back by Sunday because we have a

funeral to attend,” Roula said, without going into detail.

He reached the Teacher’s house around dusk. It wasn’t

what he expected at all. It was a very old village farmhouse with

whitewashed stone walls and a wooden roof that was sagging

under the weight of its shingles. His host was waiting for him

in the open doorway, smiling. As the Teacher led him inside,

Mimis noticed how small and spare it was. There was only one

room which served as both a living room and bedroom. The

wooden furniture was very old. There was a chest of drawers

with a marble top which a television set sat on, a bed with a

metal frame and a table with four wooden chairs around it.

A bare light bulb hung down from the ceiling by an electric

wire. Some old photographs of his peasant ancestors hung on

the walls, there was a fireplace and a little mirror with, “Good

Morning” written across it. Around the fireplace, wooden

boards balanced on bricks served as shelves, on which stacks

of books were piled. Across from the fireplace, on the opposite

side of the room was a small, low door that led to the kitchen.

A second bed was also pushed against this wall along with a

little table, a refrigerator, a built-in oven, a woodstove, and a

stone sink.

The Teacher welcomed him and showed him the house.

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“This is where I practice my own Asceticism,” he said,

smiling. “Now go bring in your things. I made up your bed in

the kitchen because I sleep in the other room.”

“Isn’t your wife here, Teacher?” Mimis asked him.

“My wife’s in Athens. She teaches at a high school there

and hasn’t retired yet. She comes to see me on the weekends.

I live here to take care of the olive grove and the animals that

my father-in-law left us. This is all hers, I don’t have anything.

I’m just a clump of mud, as Kazantzakis would say,” he said,

laughing.

They had a pleasant evening together. His host grilled him

lamb chops and poured him some lovely red wine. He laid out

olives, sliced tomatoes, onions, and a fresh loaf of buckwheat

bread. Mimis shared his news and took him out to the car to

see the exotic creatures that he imported. The Teacher was

impressed by the African snake.

“It’s one of the most lethal snakes in the world,” Mimis said

proudly, showing off the mamba. “The venom released in a

single bite is strong enough to kill between twenty and forty

people! It’s very aggressive and can stand straight up, even up

to a full meter tall. It’s fast too; it can move at speeds of up to

twenty kilometers an hour.”

“Take a look at the animals,” the Teacher said, “and believe

me—you too were once like that too.”

As usual he went off on his own tangent. But this time,

Mimis wanted to corner him.

“Teacher, I was wondering if you could tell me . . .” he

interrupted as some point, “ . . . when you were teaching at the

Academy, why didn’t you do anything when we complained

about being beaten at school? We were only thirteen years old

and they humiliated and terrified us.”

“Me?” he asked, surprised. “I . . . lived outside the Academy

and didn’t know what went on while I was off the premises.”

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“You didn’t know what went on?” Mimis asked in disbelief.

“How could you not? The whole place was buzzing with the

news. We came to class bruised and so exhausted from our

manual punishments that we would fall asleep on our desks.

There were boys who ran away and never came back and you

mean to tell me that you didn’t know what was happening in

that hellhole?”

“No, I didn’t know that the older students would beat

you. Besides you all honored your code of silence and no one

reported any abuse. It was a military school after all, it was

bound to have a few hazing rituals. The rules that applied there

are different from the rules of real life!”

The Teacher saw that Mimis didn’t believe what he was

telling him and thought he was making excuses, but there was

nothing else he could say. After staring at his wine glass for a

few minutes he suddenly said:

“Listen up, Mimis. You’re a grown man, don’t dwell on what

happened to you when you were a thirteen year old boy. It’s

doesn’t do you any good to go around saying that you were

beaten. You know what the poet says? “If you can’t make your

life what you wish it to be/ than at least try/ not to disgrace it.”

The Teacher had found an easy way out. If he was ever in

a tight spot and couldn’t find anything else to say, he would

come up with the wise words of someone else, a saying, or a

line of poetry and would end up giving another life lesson.

He overlooked his own life and his own actions, conveniently

forgetting his mistakes and vices; he slithered around the issues

he didn’t want to face, like a snake. Mimis remembered that

he had told them that the mind “had to be agile and quick,”

mimicking the movement of a snake with his hand as he spoke.

He had said, “don’t punch a knife because you’ll hurt your

hand.” He was just as loathsome and dangerous as a real snake.

Once he had bitten you with the poison of his mind, you didn’t

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know if it would cure you, or kill you. “Oh god, where’s my little

Moroccan dagger now so that I can stab him in the heart and

be done with it?” Mimis thought. “I loved him up until now

because the others loved him but I can’t stand watching him

play dumb. No, it has to stop! I didn’t know who to kill with

my little African dagger but now I do. I hate him. He deserves

to have his heart ripped out of his chest, if only just to see if

it’s filled with blood or oil like the kind he squeezes out of the

olives. I need to see if it works like a human heart or like a ship’s

engine instead—humming and thumping inside of his chest!”

“Do you want a little more wine, Mimis?” the Teacher asked,

after seeing that Mimis’s head was tottering from fatigue.

“No, I’d better go to bed, Teacher” Mimis said, getting up

abruptly.

He pushed away the chairs and took a few of the plates

and glasses into the kitchen. He fell fast asleep, without taking

off his clothes or saying goodnight. He was thinking of snakes

and he even dreamt about them. He stepped on their bodies

and they wrapped themselves around his arms and neck and

everywhere. They had shiny eyes, poisonous forked tongues

and sharp fangs, but they spoke to him. They spoke in human

tongue, like the parrot. The same thing, over and over . . . but

he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Roula suddenly

appeared among them, holding some of them in her hands like

an Egyptian goddess. She whispered the words softly in the hiss

of a snake, and then he understood.

“Don’t let others poison you . . .”

He woke up from his nightmare, his eyes wide with fear. He

knew that phrase—his mistress had said it to him. He looked

around in the dark, trying to figure out where he was. His head

hurt from drinking too much wine. He looked down at his

watch. It was past three in the morning. He slowly got up and

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gently pushed open the door, which separated his room

from the Teacher’s. He saw him sleeping motionlessly on

the bed.

“Snake,” he whispered with hatred, through clenched

lips. He looked around once more, standing there in his

socks before softly stepping outside into the garden

through the kitchen door. He went over to his car and

took the basket that held the African mamba out of the

back seat. He brought it into the kitchen and set it down in

front of the door that led to the other room. He silently

pushed the basket into the room where the Teacher was

asleep. He grabbed a long-handled wooden spoon from

the kitchen and opened the lid of the basket. Then

he quickly shut the door.

He wouldn’t have to wait long. The snake’s

neurotoxin would cause paralysis and asphyxiation within

ten minutes of its injection into the bloodstream. The

nervous system shuts down and the heart stops beating.

He sat in a chair and rested his head on his hands while he

waited.