I met Marigoula Mastrolean in Chios - exiled like me - in August 1948. Our cots happened to be right next to each other when they rounded us up in the warehouses, the one hundred dangerous ones, as they called us.

How much I truly learned from Marigoula about her life in Chatzikiriakio. About the people in her neighborhood, about the refugees of the Asia Minor Catastrophe, about the rebetiko music she listened to since she was young, and many other things. Marigoula was a lively character, energetic, with a booming voice and always cheerful.

Where did she find the courage to liven up the camp with her jokes, with the satire of camp life, the stories, the proverbs, and the charms, even with the Dodecanesian dances she danced beautifully? She who was cut off from her loved ones and had never received even a small parcel from a relative or friend - the parcel at that time was what connected us with our loved ones, giving us the warmth we missed so much.

[...](from the Note by Elli Nicolaidi)