Using these simple yet harsh words, 66-year-old George confessed to me one afternoon, that despite my feelings of nostalgia towards our homeland and its people, he didn’t share the same feelings with me, and in actual fact he felt no need and had no intention of ever returning to Greece.

“How can you even say that?” I asked as his comment disappointed me to say the least.

“How could someone like you, a person who was born and raised in Greece like I have, make such a comment about our mother country?” I asked him noting that this was the first time in my eighteen years living in Australia that I had come across someone who appeared to loath Greece.

My thoughts were interrupted by a tear that I noticed running down George’s cheek; a tear he made sure he wiped away quickly as if he had mastered the art of suppressing any emotion that came out to potentially threaten his darkest secret.

THE WHY

George was born in 1954 at a village near Mikri Prespa.

Growing up in a very poor family, George experienced the absolute horror in the hands of his grandfather, who forced the young boy to work day and night in the fields to put food on the table for the family.

He says he endured constant physical, verbal and emotional abuse by his grandfather.

PHYSICAL VERBAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE

“I don’t have good memories from my life in Greece and I am not ashamed to say it. I love the country and its people, but my grandfather poisoned everything inside me. The few times I think back to my childhood, the only thing that comes to mind is the unbearable poverty, the constant abuse I endured from my early years and the overwhelming fear I felt each morning as my grandfather came into my room to wake me up and take me to work with him.

“I can still recall vividly the bedroom door opening abruptly, the floor creaking as my pappou stormed in, the insults and his breath stinking of alcohol and cigarettes.

“I was only five years old and yet I was treated worse than what someone would treat an animal. I will never forget the day my grandfather grabbed me by the legs and threw me into a cold lake so that I could learn how to swim and become a “real man”. I didn’t know how to swim, and I would have probably drowned had I not grabbed onto a tree branch hanging over the lake while my grandfather was watching and laughing at me. I was only six years old,” says George, who immigrated to Australia in 1966 at the age of 12.

“For me Australia and the ship Frederica were a real blessing and although Australia had its challenges, nothing, absolutely nothing, no hard work, no racism and no difficulties could ever compare to the hardship and abuse I experienced growing up in Greece,” says George who after arriving in Australia, settled in Melbourne, married and had four children of his own.

In 1979 the family moved to Adelaide where George worked as a welder.

Today, despite the fact that George is adamant about not wanting to ever return to Greece, the 66-year-old is still an active member of one of the largest Greek communities in Adelaide, he volunteers his time assisting the committee and fellow members with their events, he speaks fluent Greek and in his spare time he reads Greek literature.

Sadly, he says he is still trying to forget the past that damaged him.

“I have decided that I will die in Australia, and frankly I am grateful about that.

“I know it is hard for you to fathom, but I already died once in Greece,” he concludes.