Late on a Wednesday evening I sat down with Mrs Pavlaki in the kitchen in her daughter’s apartment in Potamos. The electricity had been wiped out in the area, so we sat in candlelight, talking and remembering. Mrs Pavlaki must surely be one of the most humorous people I know, her tinkling laughter and sparkling eyes flashed and filled the kitchen, as she burbled over everything from her mother's cooking to the hungry years of '43. The very idea that I had come to hear some stories from her seemed absolutely hilarious to her, and it took a while for her to get started. Soon however, she was deep in '43...

"In '43 when the hounta were in charge we had no bread and no flour, but we were certainly luckier than some because, having animals, we also had enough dairy foods and plenty of meat, and we had wood for the fire. It really wasn’t that bad! (tinkling laughter)

All the Athenian kids who had Kytherian heritage had come back to the island, as things were really bad in the city. I was sixteen. We all used to gather together in the cafes and perform, plays and songs and poetry. I played an island in a play (more tinkly laughter). The older boys were taken by the Germans though, to make barricades and to fight. But we never had any murders. Times were hard but we were young and strong and survivors.

In the war, before the island was taken over, we girls used to knit for the soldiers. Vests and shirts and pullovers and blankets, because the mountains were cold and they weren't holding out in the bad weather.

And then, after four years of hounta the English came and all the bells were rung and we all piled into the churches and sang praises. Many of us had relations in Australia and America and when the war was over they all sent us packages with candy and clothes and food and money. It was wonderful fun! We'll never forget those years..."
Her husband is by now listening, and adds: "We didn’t have light then either!"