If I stayed upright, I felt the knife on my back, but if I leaned forward, I did not feel it. It poked me, but I never bent. I kept my chin always up.
I was sitting in the front row, being one of the two women who, in 1952, succeeded in the tough entrance exams of the Agricultural University in Athens.
The knife was in the hands of a student behind me. I could hear how he chuckled and all the guys behind him, but I remained calm, looking straight at the board and focused on the lecture. The professor never knew what was happening. My fellow students wanted me to scream, to cry, to run away, but I never gave them the pleasure.
Ignoring them was the best shield against their bullying. I was too young, barely sixteen years old, and thank God, they did not know it. The school officials did not know either because my mother had to falsify papers several years ago for me to be accepted to secondary school when I was only 10.
They believed I was eighteen, still younger than everybody else being twenty or older. I was a baby but not a Barbie for sure, but they did not think that.
One day, one of my fellow students brought to my home a book that I left behind in the classroom. When he arrived, my mother called me from another room, saying, “Bebeka”. That was enough. In school, they all started to call me Bebeka, a baby in Greek. I hated it. I wasn’t a baby; I was a young woman—one of very few admitted to the university.
I was living in a nice upper-middle-class neighborhood in Athens. I first took a tram during rush hours to go to the university. The trams were so crowded that, if I were lucky, my hand could grab an available handrail while my entire body would dangle in the air. Rarely my foot could stand at the edge of the entrance platform. Sometimes, I could not even grab a handrail because 6 or 7 people were already hanging from the precious handrail, and I had to wait for the next tram.
After this ordeal, I had to squeeze into an overcrowded bus where I could hardly breathe. My small hands worked hard, grabbing the handrail in the tram and pushing hard to make a space in the bus.
Despite my classmate’s unfriendly welcome, the situation slowly calmed down, and with Carnival coming up, parties started, and girls became necessary. There were only seven girls in all five classes, and the other girl in my class never got invited, probably because she had an unpleasant personality and was always shabbily dressed.
Girl scarcity and being a good dancer made me quite popular. I was a young woman with joie de vivre who loved dancing and enjoyed flirting with different boys.
Still, I was way too young, a baby, a Bebeka, so I pretended to be older: I smoked but only at parties. I really hated smoking and never finished a cigarette. I tasted it and put it off as soon as possible without being seen. Soon, I realized that smoking or not smoking, I get enough attention, so I stopped pretending, I only needed to be me.
During the election of the class president for the second-year class, I met one of the attractive candidates. He did not win, but he gained my favors. We started dating. How innocent we were, just going to the movies or walking in the park. I only let him kiss me. We enjoyed each other’s company until I realized he became uncomfortable when his sister saw us walking on a country road. I felt his high nose and super well-dressed sister disapproved of me. She cast a contemptuous glance at my sneakers and the clean yet old clothes my aunt had given me. She knew I did not belong to their high class. I clearly read the meaning of her look and showed my strong character by ending the relationship.
After exam results came out at year-end, I was overjoyed. They showed that I had the highest grades in my class. Being the best student granted me the Ministry of Agriculture’s Scholarship. So, the Minister himself came to class one day to announce the scholarship winner. But the first thing he did was to scold my classmates, saying. “A girl secured the scholarship, and none of you boys can put it off?” Only after that he proceeded to congratulate me.
In this heavy class atmosphere, I was picked as the leader, so I had to perform specific duties. One of which was to set the afternoon 4 hours of laboratory. It was great that we had a choice but misery for me to determine the best time. At first, I asked the entire class for the preferred time. Everyone wanted a different time. Democracy, in that case, was a bad idea. Thinking on the most rational option, I wrote on the board: Laboratory starts after a single lunch hour.
Worried that my success and my status as class leader made me unpopular. I never bragged about it. I tried hard to fit in. I played cards with some of them even during critical days before exams when I was supposed to be studying. And even one day, I joined a class strike when nobody wanted to go to class after a tough midterm exam. We all went to watch a cheap movie instead. Democracy worked in this case.
Even though I did well with my male classmates, with my professors was another thing. One day, I raised my hand to ask for further explanation, and my professor replied in a harsh tone, “If you can’t understand this, you should not be in this class.” Clearly, I represented an anomaly in a predominantly male universe.
Becoming a second-year student brought additional tasks. I was assigned a plot at the university garden to plant and take care of. This considerably changed my life because I had to work on this plot at least 45 minutes before classes started at eight. This translated to having to wake up at least half an hour earlier than before, which was at six, to also deal with the hour and a half of transportation misery.
Arriving at 7:15 at the university, I had to dig a hole in the ground, plant, and water the seeds. When they sprouted out, I had to clean, fumigate, and weed them. I did all that wearing a skirt, flat sneakers, and nylon stockings, following the university dress code for girls. Pants were not allowed!!! But I had to wear feeble nylon stockings that were quite expensive at that time. They were torn off all the time, and with no money to buy new ones, I had to hire a special seamstress to mend them.
The courses, the labs, and the plots needed my constant attention and kept me busy. But boys were still around all the time, so I dated a couple of them. But when they demanded more than kissing, I broke up with them. One of my fellow students, five years older than I, having already served in military service, fell in love with me. God knows why. I had never encouraged him. He was a nice and rather good-looking guy, but I only liked him as a friend. He followed me everywhere like my shadow and often came to my house. It was impossible to discourage him.
I only got rid of him once I fell for Giorgos, a nice boy, and a good student, second after me. Everything happened during one of our school excursions that somehow mitigated the rigor of the daily classes and studies. Giorgos had come with a high school girl who was not beautiful or intelligent. She was entirely out of place in our company, and Giorgos ignored her. Instead, he was talking with me all the time. It must have been hard for the poor girl.
This was the beginning of the end of his relationship with the girl and the blooming of ours. From there on, we saw each other as much as possible, except during summer when we did not see each other because we had to spend our fieldwork in different places.
After the second year, I got the best grades again, so I was once more the class leader during the third year. I thought that by then, it had been accepted that I was the best student, but an incident showed me I was wrong: in a lab, we had to recognize the names of plants by their leaves. Most of my fellow students grew up on farms and had no trouble recognizing plants by looking at leaves. But I missed most of them. I was shocked to see the happiness in their eyes caused by my failure. Their true feelings were still negative. It was painful to realize it.
During my third year, I undertook an internship in Spata, a village in close proximity to Athens. Through a thorough analysis of soil composition and water availability, it became evident that cultivating a diverse range of vegetables was not only viable but also promised favorable prices in the nearby Athens market. However, the cultivation of such crops required great labor input.
Enthusiastic with the results, I asked the village president to talk with the local inhabitants. I told them the good news while drinking coffee or ouzo. They listened and mentioned how hard they would have to work if they followed my suggestions. And, of course, they did nothing. They were not ready to listen to a young woman on this matter. However, I got an A on my report.
When, after six years, I came from the U.S. for a short visit, I found the Spata peasants were cultivating vegetables they sold at the Athenian markets. Their wealth had transformed the village into a lovely town.
I visited Giorgos’s home several times in the fall of my fourth university year. I met his parents, and he often came to my apartment and met my mother. By now, we were recognized as a couple.
As I had my own room, we spent time talking and kissing. My mother liked him and did not interfere. In fact, she gave me an inkling that it would be okay to have sex with him. I was tempted but did not yield. I sensed that sex would tie me more to him, and I realized I did not want this to happen. I wanted to continue my studies in the U.S.
During the fifth year, each of us picked an area of specialization, and we selected different areas. In this way, we had fewer opportunities to spend much time together. I realized that I was glad. I needed free time. Although I did not want to admit it openly, he started to bore me.
Whenever possible, I enjoyed tremendously attending concerts with my good friend Thanasis, who had already graduated from the agricultural university and had a postgraduate fellowship. He was an intellectual. Discussing with him broadened my thinking and understanding. We could talk about art and ideas and future aspirations. I treasured every moment of our talks. Comparing Giorgos to Thanasis, I found Giorgos’s personality flat and uninteresting.
As soon as we graduated, Giorgos had to serve military service. I was relieved that he would be confined in the barracks for a month, and nobody could see him. I was delighted to regain my freedom.
At that time, Thanasis was engaged to a girl who was not in Athens, so we started seeing each other more often than before. Both were delighted to temporarily feel free of our formal commitments, which seemed to oppress us.
We were getting closer, and for the first time, we started kissing and caressing each other. However, we both knew that having sex was a line that could not crossed. It seemed that both having made a serious commitment to others, our relationship provided us with added enjoyment.
When the time came to visit Giorgos in the army, I didn’t feel like going. When I saw him, I kissed him briefly. I did my best, but I could only be lukewarm. He did not sense it because he did not want to see anything negative in me. I was pleased that military rules made the meeting short. Fortunately for me, this was our last meeting. They were sending Giorgos to army reserves in Macedonia. I was relieved that I would not have to see him again. This was the first and only time I pretended to care for someone because I did not want to hurt him.
Free of emotional burdens, I was ready to leave for a long journey and a new life. I was incredibly fortunate when an older American woman, a friend of my uncle, visited us in Athens. Impressed by my consistently high grades over the five academic years, she generously decided to cover all my university fees, as well as room and board for a year in the United States.
Fantastic news but I still needed assistance with the high travelling costs. But first, I had to apply to several universities searching for acceptance. I wanted to apply to universities in California where the weather was mild and comparable to the Athenian weather. But my mother did not want me to go to California, far from Greece, as if she could travel back and forth.
Not wanting to upset my mother, I applied to good Midwestern universities that offered human genetics, the field I wanted to specialize. Of several universities that accepted me, I chose Ohio State University.
Having secured acceptance into Ohio State University’s Master’s program, I applied to the Greco-American Foundation, hoping to obtain travel costs. They asked me what I would do if I were not awarded travel expenses. I answered that I was confident the Foundation would pay for my ticket. They liked my confidence, and I received the money for my trip on a transatlantic ship to take me to the United States.
Before leaving Greece, the last bureaucratic procedure was meeting with the female American Ambassador, which was held in English. She wanted to make sure that I could handle coursework in English. I sweated it out, and I do not know to what extent I convinced her. She was confident that the entry exams in the U.S. would accurately determine my language ability and whether I needed additional training. Then, before her, I had to take a solemn oath that after completing my studies in the U.S., I would return to Greece. I sword, but I remained living here until today.
The End