The Onion Pie

Note: This story is not in Manolis Makris’ book but was told by his mother Marinia Hartofylakas-Makris.

It was during the war. We lived in Oxokamara (on the western slope of Olympos). It was shortly after my mother and sister died. I was baking bread. I did not have any koulouri (circular rusks). To not waste the small pieces of bread dough left over I made a kind of onion pie.

At that moment a woman, Morfini Fundis, passed by in the street above our house and greeted me “Ora kali Marinia” (literally good hour but a greeting that implies good wishes).

“Kalos tin Morfini” (literally good to you) I replied.

“What a pity, Morfini! I just put the bread in the oven and it is not ready to give to you. Here I have this onion pie and this must be baked.”

The woman took the pie and said words of thanks and blessing.

In the night, I saw in my dream that my mother came and was coming down the steps and she sat on one step and I said to her “You sit on the stairs my mother. I have cooked food. Come close so that we can eat together.”

She said “No my child. I have eaten. Don’t you remember that you sent me food?” and she opened her folded apron and showed me the pie I had given to Morfini with burnt onion on it.

It was war. People had nothing. Maybe the woman was hungry.