The Lame Mule

During the war the Italians requisitioned all the mules on Karpathos and said we must take them to Pigadia. I started from Olympos with our mule and was weeping all the way. My sister, Marou, was working in Piles. All the way I was praying to Ayios Minas because they would take our mule – please do something so that the Italians won’t take our mule. I got to Pigadia and we all gathered together. The Italians called out the names and one by one we took our mule so that the officer could look to see if it was strong enough. The officer would take the mule on a rope and walk it around three times. It was here that my brother Nikias gave honey and many other things to the Italians so that he could keep his mule. When they called our name, I pulled our mule to the Italian and it was as if his legs were paralysed. I pulled it and pulled it - it was a big, strong, beautiful mule but its hooves didn’t move properly. I gave it to the Italian and was crying. He took him round one time and I could see he was limping. The Italians didn’t even want him to go round twice and the officer, a very tall man, gave the mule back to me to take away. I put the samari ^note on the mule and started home. Just after we left Pigadia, it was almost as if the mule was light and flying. So I mounted on his back and went to Piles and found my sister. I loaded cheese, flour and other things on the mule and we came back to Olympos. I ordered a tama ^note and took it to Ayios Minas.