December 1, 2010, Constantinople/ Istanbul, Turkey
I finally got hold of Panagioti, the authorized tour guide for the Patriarchate and told him I was serious about renting a car and driver to take me to my ancestral village in Thrace.
The names that were known to my family were Ganohora and Milio. I know that Fr Germanos Stavropoulos told me that it was now called Hoşkoy. Through a little research by Panagioti we learned that Ganos was now known as Gazikoy (flat village), Hora was know as Hosköy (enjoyable village) and the village were my family came from, Milio, is now known as Güzelköy (beautiful village). These two villages of Ganos and Hora were on the Sea of Marmara and Milio up from them. Its like they make a triangle. The whole region was known as Ganohora.
Of course, Panagioti could do nothing without authorization from on high. So I went by the Chancellor’s Office and luckily he was in and I explained that I wanted to go see my ancestral village before I left Turkey, not knowing when I would have the opportunity to do this again. Father Stefanos gave permission for Panagioti to make arrangements and be my interpreter.
So we set a date for the trip two days later trip on December 3.
I was going back to the village were my great-grandparents were forced to leave around 1912-1913 after the region suffered an earthquake. The Ottoman Turkish government thought it best that they inhabitants of the area be forced to leave. Of course, this was beginning of the policy that resulted in the forced exchange of Greeks an Turks in 1922.
In the family history, Yiayia (Grandmother) Yvonne Balasakis said that she and Great Grandmother Efrosini (Frances) came in 1914 and that Yiayia was about 2 years old when they came. The presumption was that Great Grandfather Anastasios Balaskais was already in the US by that time to prepare for their arrival.
Great Grandmother Panayiota Konstantinou arrived at Ellis Island with Daughter Daphne and Son Prodromos (Grandfather Bill) in 1914. In the family history, Great Grandfather is never mentioned as coming to the US.
In the historical record the Population of the Village of Milio was
(1911) 1,130 Greeks and 134 Turks;
(1912) 1,470 Greeks and 0 Turks;
(1913) 193 Greeks and 152 Turks;
(1922) 235 Greeks and 200 Turks
After 1922 – 0 Greeks
And a walk through Riverview Cemetery in Richmond have quite a few residents who were born in Milio. When people came to the US they generally went to places where members of their immediate or extended families were or where some neighbors ended up. Who was the first from Milio or Ganohora to end up in Richmond, Virginia? Who knows? The fact remains is that the Both sides of Pop’s family ended up in Richmond, Virginia from the village.
December 3, 2010
PHOTO GALLERY: Milio, Ganahora
We left the Patriarchate in early morning. Panagioti had gotten an Armenian driver (who spoke no English naturally). To communicate I spoke to Panagioti in Greek who translated in Turkish so that the Armenian could understand! Getting out of Istanbul was no problem but it would be about a 3 hour trip to the Village a little over 200 km away. We had made it to Silivri in Terkidag which to us Greeks is known as Selyvria, the birthplace of Saint Nektarios the Wonderworker.
A little while after Silivri the road suddenly changed from a modern road to a dirt road and just a paved road with no markings. We were on the coast of the Sea of Marmara and a very beautiful sight with all the vegetation and the sea.
Suddenly we were in a very curvy area that was taking us down to sea level. No guardrails or anything of the sort. Just sheer drops to the sea. Yokes!
Eventually we got to sea level and it was a two lane roadway. Heading west, the Sea at our left and the cliffs on the right. Eventually we made it through a small village and in front of us the sign that told us we were on the right track... Like there was another track to follow....
Gaziköy 6 km
Hosköy 10 km
Before long we were at the outskirts of Gaziköy. There was a restaurant right there with the name “Ayiasma” which is Turkish for the Greek “Agiasma” which is “Holy Spring”. We stopped there to see what it was all about. Panagioti has never been to this area and he’s lived in Istanbul all his life and he is always looking for archeological things. And boy did we see a lot of relics from the times that the Greek Orthodox Christians were here. Remnants of tombstones, fonts and other types of marbles. For it to be an agiasma means that there was once a church or chapel built here which is long gone. Probably replaced by this restaurant. I sis go down to the what may have been the spring and yes, there was a pool of water with pipes.
We left a before long we got to the center of the town- the town square and did find another indication of the Greek presence here many years ago.
It does make me wonder why after all these hundred years, our presence in this area has not been totally obliterated. Even in Agia Sophia, the Ottoman Turks could never totally obliterate the fact that it was THE Cathedral of the Orthodox Church.
We got in the care and 4 km later we were in Hosköy. Compared to Gaziköy it was Big City! At least there was some life here. Coffee shops, stores, houses, schools. It seemed as this was the hub of the area. Looking at the historical record there were, in the 1910's around 2,500-3,000 Greeks in Ganos and about the same in Hora.
We were after Güzelköy. Seems that we had missed the turn as we passed the dry river bed. We got back on track and turned up to go to my ancestral village. As we were going up the road I realized that here I was, a descendant of those who were forcibly removed from this area, coming back to my origins, to pay my respects. How many of my unknown ancestors went up and down this road. Who were they? What did they do? How did they live? How many generations lived here? Questions with no answers. All I know it was beautiful going up. Apple trees lined the road. Milio- from the Greek Milo- which is Apple! Finally we stopped. We were on the outskirts of the village. And saw a small mosque. It wasn’t modern but you can tell that it was pretty old. Was this the mosque of the old village of Milio. After all back then it was a Greek village with a very small Turkish population.
Everything was stone and wood. Stone for walls, stone for houses. Old wood. Walking around I could feel that one gust of wind and all this would be tumbling down. Houses looked like they have been there at least a hundred years with no one coming back to unlock the door. Were they inhabited? Were any of them my family houses. It was very quiet. No one walking around except for one old lady with a cane as she slowly ascended the steep stony path. Could be anyone’s grandmother. Did manage to chuckle though as she was walking she passed a satellite dish. Modernity in the midst of a time machine.
We rode around the village. Not many options where you could go- a lot of stuff crumbling. We saw no one until we came upon the village square- the social point of the village right across the square was a mosque. A pretty modern one. But at the time of the Greeks in this place, it was probably the site of the Church of Saints Theodore. (At least that was the name my Grandmother said it was) .
Looking around the square there were not one but two coffee/tea shops. Even a small village like this an there are two coffee shops. We thought that we had seen and heard all that we would. We had not sat down but I went to all them men there, shook their hands and said “Testicular” which is Turkish for “Thank you!” Bas soon as I finished with the last one, the first gentlemen who engaged us in conversation, beckoned us to sit down and brought out some tea. We continued to talk and found out he was babysitting his granddaughter and that he was the mayor of the town.
Being “Rum” (Greeks from Asia Minor- Roman) rather than “Yunan” (Greeks frm Greece) is a subtle distinction that I think makes a lot of difference to the Turks. I feel that the Turks are a little warmer to you when they find out that you are “Rum.” It means that you are part of the history whether they acknowledge or not.
When I finished my tea, the Mayor took his granddaughter by the hand and beckoned Panagioti and me to follow him. We went up the rocky path to a building that had 1913 on its stone face. He explained that it was a Greek owned building where they used to make wine and Raki (similar to ouzo). Of course, it was not used for that purpose now. It wasn’t used for anything- it was just there.
Then he led us to a field. It was a peaceful place overlooking the Sea of Marmara.
Whether Panagioti told him or he discovered it himself- he realized that I was a Priest. After all when you’re dressed in a white shirt and black pants and the deference given to you by your translator, you sometimes can put two and two together.
This field contained the origins of half of my DNA. It was the village Cemetery. The tombstones were taken and used for the walls of the city. Most of the graves were dugs up in decade gone by. Over the years I’m sure the ground was used for other purposes. But the mayor told us, they still dig up bones every once in a while and they accumulate them. When the river runs fast they take them, put them into a sack and let the river take them to the Sea where they dissolve over time. Looking at it from Western culture it seems barbaric and disrespectful, But looking a this practice its no different from what they do in Greece when for lack of burial space, the exhume the remains, place whatever is left in an box for as long as you pay the fee. And when that stops, they put it in an ossuary until time returns them to dust. I think that what these folks do is more respectful than just throwing them away in the garbage.
The mayor left us there for a while and I did the memorial for my great-grandfather who was probably buried in this place along with my unknown ancestors. This may have been the first memorial in 90+ years at this very place. It was very moving.
On the way to the village square, there was a young boy looking through a window. I just had to snap a picture. Will he have a future in this village? Or his destiny elsewhere. Making it to the Village Square, we said good bye to them and when I tried to pay for the tea, the owner/Mayor refused. Such is hospitality. The only response is a heartfelt “Insallah”= “God willing”
We went back to Hosköy- Hora. We went to the seashore and there was a Wine Butik. We met Cem Cetintas and his wife, Funda. Cem is from Milio and Funda is from Ordu on the Black Sea where my Maternal Grandfather was born and lived until the population exchange in 1922.
WEBSITE: Melen Winery
The Çetintaş family can trace its roots in Thrace back to the Turkish land owners who came from Konya to Rumelia 500 years ago. Melen or Güzelköy, as it was then known, was synonymous with the cultural values and traditions of their own background.
Ganohora has a recognized history dating from the 1st century; it was a religious center for Christians during the Middle Ages with its many churches and monasteries. In Ganohora alone there were 6 monasteries. In 1955, when the Turkish Treasury auctioned off the site, the Çetintaş family bought it and the ruins of the Monastery of St. Ioannis are now all that remain of the church’s influence in the region today.
The monastery was built by Friar Dionysuis (Kalafatis) in 1865. He built over the remains of an older Byzantine monastery which, although the date of its building has not yet been discovered, is believed to pre-date the conquest of Istanbul (1453). It is known however, that before the Byzantine monastery was built, the land was used as a cemetery during the 5th and 6th centuries. (Ecclesiastical records from the Patriarchate of Constantinople).
The Çetintaşfamily had its own special reason for wanting to acquire the derelict monastery and land. During the disturbed and lawless times of the early 1920s, they received word that one of the gangs roaming the country side intended to attack the Çetintaş house in Melee. Grandfather Ahmet Çetintaş, realizing that he couldn’t defend the house and family, fled to the St. John monastery, believing it to be the safest place around. The family were received and given shelter by the Abbot. That night their house was attached and destroyed. The memory of these events was firmly in Ahmet’s son Hussein's mind when he bought the land from the Treasury.
What was not in the website was that when the Abbot was told to leave the Monastery at the population exchange of 1923, the Çetintaş family returned the favor and sheltered the about
It is now one of Melee Winery’s projects to restore the remains of the Monastery of St. John the Theologian. They were very generous of their time to show me the remains of the Monastery, the vineyard. Of course, I had to buy wine to give as going away gifts to members of the Patriarchal Court for their friendship and hospitality during my month long sojourn there
