or listen or understand. N o one talked so I had to answer. N o
one knew m y name. It was a cocoon surrounded by
cacophony. I liked not knowing anything. I was quiet outside,
never trying. There was no talking anyw ay that could say I
was raped more now and was broke for good. If it ain’t broke
don’t fix it and if it is broke just leave it alone and someday it’ll
die. Here, Andreus is a m an’s name. Andrea doesn’t exist at
all, m y m om m a’s name, not at all, not one bit. It is monstrous
to betray your child, bitch.
F IV E
In June 1966
(Age 19)
M y name is Andrea but here in nightclubs they say
M y dear but more romantic. Sometimes they say it in a sullen
way, sometimes they are dismissive, sometimes it has a rough
edge or a cool indifference to it, a sexual callousness; sometimes they say it like they are talking to a pet dog, except that the Greeks don’t keep pets. Here on Crete they shoot cats.
They hate them. The men take rifIes and shoot them o ff the
roofs and in the alleys. The cats are skeletal, starving; the
Cretans act as if the cats are cruel predators and slimy crawling
things at the same time. N o one would dare befriend one here.
E very time I see a cat skulking across a roof, its bony, meager
body twisted for camouflage, I think I am seeing the Jew s in
the ghettos o f Eastern Europe sliding out o f hiding to find
food. M y
French except for the few words I have had to pick up in the
bars. The high-class Greek men speak French, the peasants
only Greek, and it is very low -brow to speak English, vulgar.
N o one asks m y name or remembers it if I say it. In Europe
only boys are named it. It means manhood or courage. If they
hear m y name they laugh; you’re not a boy, they say. I don’t
need a name, it’s a burden o f memory, a useless burden for a
woman. It doesn’t seem to mean anything to anyone. There is
an Andreus here, a hero who was the captain o f a ship that was
part o f the resistance when the Nazis occupied the island. He
brought in guns and food and supplies and got people o ff the
island who needed to escape and brought people to Crete who
needed to hide. He killed Nazis when he could; he killed some,
for certain. N o occupier has ever conquered the mountains
here, rock made out o f African desert and dust. Andreus is old
and cunning and rich. He owns olive fields and is the official
consul for the country o f N orw ay; I don’t know what that
means but he has stationery and a seal and an office. He owns
land. He is dirty and sweaty and fat. He drinks and says dirty
things to women but one overlooks them. He says dirty
words in English and makes up dirty limericks in broken
