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Authors: Kerry Greenwood
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did not come back to us. I am afraid that we have lost him. My Turkish is good enough to ask for directions so I suppose we do not need him but I am sorry, anyway.
August 9th
Out on the road again. The lady of the house gave me a message for a man in the next village which I will deliver and we can get a lift in a cart. This one was carrying hay, which was an improvement on fish. Abdul joined us at breakfast. He is sulking and wonât talk to me. I canât imagine what is wrong with him.
LATER After a very hot and bumpy journey we got to this village. I saw Father into the barn where we are staying and went to the house of Mr Rahman. I was shown into a small sitting room while Mr Rahman was fetched. He was a fat, busy man and the room stank of tobacco (which he wasnât supposed to be smoking because of the fast). I gave him Rachelâs message. It was a simple one, asking about the price of oranges. He behaved very strangely. He took my hand in his fat paws and whispered, âHow goes the struggle?â and when he saw that I did not know what he meant, he slapped me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy, gave me a silver lire and another message to deliver in the next village. Then he practically shoved me out into the street. I went back to the barn very puzzled. I wouldnât have thought that the price of oranges was so important. I said so to Abdul. He was odd too. He told me never to mention the price of oranges to anyone. I hope we get to the border soon.
August 10th
Father seems better after our rest in the garden pavilion. He actually called me Evan today. We travelled in another hay truck. This was mechanical rather than horse-drawn. It was just as hot and bumpy, however. This is another village just the same as the others. White houses, red roofs, olive trees, sunflowers. But we are approaching the sea again. I can almost hear it. In my bones, perhaps. We were lodged in another barn. It was fine after I herded the goats to one side and swept the floor. This is a rich family. They have two horses, as well as the goats. I love horses. These are well fed and shiny and very friendly. Abdul does not like horses and says the future of transport is in mechanical vehicles like trucks and cars. After I bought food for Father and myself I was allowed to currycomb the gelding. He nuzzled me. I wished I could ride him. I wonder if I have forgotten how to ride? Then I went out for a little walk. I wandered into the market. Not much for sale. Not even oranges. Something is going on, but I have no idea what it is.
August 11th
We are getting near the sea. Todayâs conveyance was a very black and shiny motor car which belongs to some bey or other. I have no idea how we are being moved around and I donât know if I like it, but it is getting me and Father closer to the border. I wish I had paid more attention when Major Western was telling me about the situation in Thrace. He said that there was a war between the Balkan League in 1912 or â13, I remember that, and that Greece kept Salonika and Bulgaria has Thrace. I donât know anything about Bulgarians except a rude joke that the soldiers used to tell. I think it was Bulgarians. Bulgarians are no friends to Turks, said the major. Also, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I wish I could talk to him again. Heâd be able to tell me what is happening. But whatever it is, we are covering much more ground than we could on our poor feet. The car went past several army trucks and ambulances full of wounded. We are not staying in a village tonight. We are in the garage of a big villa. It has a wonderful garden, with fountains. The sun has gone down and a servant has just brought a tray with our dinner. Iâm starving.
LATER Abdul says we are in the house of an important man. I could tell from the food. The chicken dish was highly spiced and there was a lot of oil in the beans and the eggplant. Father ate a good dinner and actually started
August 9th
Out on the road again. The lady of the house gave me a message for a man in the next village which I will deliver and we can get a lift in a cart. This one was carrying hay, which was an improvement on fish. Abdul joined us at breakfast. He is sulking and wonât talk to me. I canât imagine what is wrong with him.
LATER After a very hot and bumpy journey we got to this village. I saw Father into the barn where we are staying and went to the house of Mr Rahman. I was shown into a small sitting room while Mr Rahman was fetched. He was a fat, busy man and the room stank of tobacco (which he wasnât supposed to be smoking because of the fast). I gave him Rachelâs message. It was a simple one, asking about the price of oranges. He behaved very strangely. He took my hand in his fat paws and whispered, âHow goes the struggle?â and when he saw that I did not know what he meant, he slapped me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy, gave me a silver lire and another message to deliver in the next village. Then he practically shoved me out into the street. I went back to the barn very puzzled. I wouldnât have thought that the price of oranges was so important. I said so to Abdul. He was odd too. He told me never to mention the price of oranges to anyone. I hope we get to the border soon.
August 10th
Father seems better after our rest in the garden pavilion. He actually called me Evan today. We travelled in another hay truck. This was mechanical rather than horse-drawn. It was just as hot and bumpy, however. This is another village just the same as the others. White houses, red roofs, olive trees, sunflowers. But we are approaching the sea again. I can almost hear it. In my bones, perhaps. We were lodged in another barn. It was fine after I herded the goats to one side and swept the floor. This is a rich family. They have two horses, as well as the goats. I love horses. These are well fed and shiny and very friendly. Abdul does not like horses and says the future of transport is in mechanical vehicles like trucks and cars. After I bought food for Father and myself I was allowed to currycomb the gelding. He nuzzled me. I wished I could ride him. I wonder if I have forgotten how to ride? Then I went out for a little walk. I wandered into the market. Not much for sale. Not even oranges. Something is going on, but I have no idea what it is.
August 11th
We are getting near the sea. Todayâs conveyance was a very black and shiny motor car which belongs to some bey or other. I have no idea how we are being moved around and I donât know if I like it, but it is getting me and Father closer to the border. I wish I had paid more attention when Major Western was telling me about the situation in Thrace. He said that there was a war between the Balkan League in 1912 or â13, I remember that, and that Greece kept Salonika and Bulgaria has Thrace. I donât know anything about Bulgarians except a rude joke that the soldiers used to tell. I think it was Bulgarians. Bulgarians are no friends to Turks, said the major. Also, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I wish I could talk to him again. Heâd be able to tell me what is happening. But whatever it is, we are covering much more ground than we could on our poor feet. The car went past several army trucks and ambulances full of wounded. We are not staying in a village tonight. We are in the garage of a big villa. It has a wonderful garden, with fountains. The sun has gone down and a servant has just brought a tray with our dinner. Iâm starving.
LATER Abdul says we are in the house of an important man. I could tell from the food. The chicken dish was highly spiced and there was a lot of oil in the beans and the eggplant. Father ate a good dinner and actually started
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