The Silent Minority

by S. Poulos

gentlemen, we all know how irresponsibly the previous chairman handled the hearing of the so-called Teacher's case.

  "It would be an under-statement if I say that we became the laughing stock of the world, because it is not a laughing matter anymore. If we don't tackle this case head on, it will have serious repercussions for the whole world in the future.

  "In order to do that, we'll have to declare the recommendation of the previous administration of the WCFET void. We will claim, with good evidence that the ex-chairman acted against the charter of the WCFET by issuing a recommendation without submitting it to the committee for approval. It will be a legal challenge, which I am sure we are going to win.

  "This is basically the way we shall tackle this matter. If we achieve this, then we will reconvene in order to issue a new recommendation. Has anybody else any other suggestion?"

  "Yeah, and in the meantime he'll be crisscrossing the country stirring up our kids. I already heard that he is going to lecture at a university," said someone.

  "Have you another suggestion? Has anybody else any other suggestion?" There was a silence. "Well that's that then," said the new chairman. "We will reconvene after the results of the appeal."

  PATMOS I

  When Adam Clarke the chairman heard about the elections to be held in the WCFET, he did not mind at all. In fact, he was glad that this page of his life was over.

  He was enjoying his days with his wife as never before. He started to notice little things in her that made him appreciate her company more and more, and in return, she responded to his acknowledgment, with gusto and pleasure; whether it was the way she served dinner, the arrangement of the flowers that the chairman would bring home occasionally, or rearranging things around the house. It seemed she did not want anything to become stale during this beautiful time.

  In return, he would appreciate her more and more, and show it in every opportunity, with a sweet smile, an appreciative word, or a gesture. This spontaneous behavior of both evolved into a wonderful catch twenty-two, in a never-ending delightful merry-go- round situation.

  They were so happy; they hardly noticed that the day for the trip to Patmos had arrived. That was also the day that the chairman learned he was no more the chairman of the WCFET, but the ex-chairman, as the elections were held smoothly, and the treasurer won the vacant seat. Well, he thought, what better way to start the new page of my life?

  Rhodes was fading behind them as they headed for Patmos on a small ferryboat. They spent two beautiful days there, wandering in the old city, with its cobblestone pavements, the old shops, and the nice little restaurants with the checked tablecloths. The cool gentle breeze on the ferryboat soothed their faces as it smoothly cut the waters on the Mediterranean Sea, leaving behind a line of white froth as far as the eye could see. The seagulls that had begun to accompany the boat the last half hour or so multiplied, which it meant the island would not be far away.

  The island started to appear, like a fairy-tale land, popped up in the middle of the blue sea of the ancient times, ready to be explored by the modern invaders. The ex-chairman beamed from happiness and satisfaction. His wife was even more excited. Her eagerness and expectation were drawn all over her face, in her glittering eyes, in her pleasant movements.

  Patmos was a modest island, an island for reflection. And that was exactly the reason the ex-chairman, and his wife were excited. They wanted to be alone. It seemed that they needed time by themselves to catch up for all the beautiful moments they lost during the chairman's term in the WCFET. For the Adam Clarke was honest with what he was doing. He would give hundred percent of his inner being to whatever occupied him. He was not merely a figurehead in an organization. But that was not without consequences. He would bring all the worries, all the agonies, concerns and anguish home, and his wife was just the buffer zone, absorbing everything he would throw at her every night. He was aware of that, and tried to make it up to her now, while she was enjoying every minute of it.

  They settled in a nice, small, clean hotel, with panoramic views of the blue sea in front, and the fortress, where John wrote the apocalypses in the cave, imposing over to the right.

  They would stroll along leisurely in the little streets, browsing into the small shops, and mingle with the locals, and the few tourists.

  It was far from the renowned islands with the cosmopolitan and jet set colorful people that flock to islands like storm troopers, leaving behind the pieces to be collected again by the locals when it is all over.

  No, this island was much more intimate. It was a place to get close to the locals, and cherish their warmth, and friendly smiles and friendship, regardless of the language barriers or culture. It was a place to know the baker, to become friendly with the owner of your favorite cafenio. It was a place to become acquainted with the locals, or the tourists that frequently visit your favorite restaurant. People here start to call you with your first name, and you start to become a part of the whole. That is a warm feeling.

  The days were passing carelessly, in an uninterrupted indescribable enjoyment, until Mr. Clarke decided to ring home, to see if things were all right. Since they did not have a mobile phone, he went to the post office and made some calls.

  A friend informed him that the new administration of the WCFET was trying to overturn in court the recommendation issued by him, and if he wanted to challenge it, he should not waste one hour.

  He went to a cafenio, which was next door, and sank into a chair wondering what to do. He ordered ouzo, and became absorbed in his thoughts.

  They were in the mist of their third week of their vacation, and there were still nearly ten days left of a beautiful dream. Did he have the right to do this to his wife? What else could he do for this man? He had lost his job and many of his friends and professional associates, and had being ridiculed all over the world for someone he hardly knew. But should he stay here enjoying his holidays as though nothing happened? And this entire sacrifice; should it all be for nothing? What about the aim of the council? It was called, the World Council of Freedom of Expression and Tolerance. If the council could not tolerate something, just because it was inconceivable to them, then what was the reason of its existence? And what about this; should he allow an injustice to take place? And who was he to tackle the whole world? After all, there were others paid to solve this problem. He was just a civilian who happened to be on his vacation with his wife, and nobody was going to spoil it.

  These kinds of thoughts were bubbling in his head when his wife started to look for him. She knew he went to the post office to make a telephone call, so that was where she went. She saw him outside sitting in a cafenio under a tree. She knew straight away that there was trouble brewing.

  She approached him with care and asked him, "What is wrong, honey?"

  "I told you once before, a man wants to sanctify, but the devil won't allow him."

  His wife knew straight away that this was really something serious which could even jeopardize their vacation.

  "Has it to do, with the WCFET case?" she asked.

  "You guessed right."

  This time, it was she who sank into the chair next to him. Sensing what was coming, she swallowed the half empty glass of ouzo on the table and then she got up, walked into the cafenio's premises, and returned with a bottle of five stars Metaxas in one hand, and two fresh glasses on the other. She sat down, and after a while she said, "I suppose all good things must come to an end sometime."

  The chairman did not answer. His body was there, but not his spirit. Then he said with a convincing tone in his voice, "Dear, don't worry. I won't allow anything to spoil our vacation."

  The tone was convincing, but it sounded as if he tried to convince himself rather than her.

  His wife had hardly touched a drink before, apart from the occasional liqueur with a coffee after dinner, but now she was already in her second glass of Metaxas. As the night progressed, they changed their conversation to other things, laughing merrily, and reminiscing on momen
ts far from the problem looming in the corner. Finally, holding and helping each other, they managed to find their room, and collapsed on the bed, both of them with their clothes still on.

  In the morning, when they awoke seeing themselves in this state, they burst into laughs, with the chairman's wife holding her head, and complaining that this was the first and the last time ever that she ever going to touch a drink in her life, while the chairman whispered to himself that it would be worthwhile, if at least it had helped us find a solution for the problem.

  Without talking much they walked to the little restaurant that they both enjoyed, to have brunch. During the coffee his wife said gently, "Now honey, let's see if the problem we face is as difficult as it appeared last night. Either way, we will have to face it."

  "I would rather leave it as it is my dear. I don't want to spoil our vacation."

  "I could not possibly enjoy a minute of it, my honey, if I know something is bothering you. You know that."

  "I am in such mess, I feel schizophrenic. One side tells me I don't have the right to spoil my wife's vacation, and the other side tells me my duty is not here, but to defend what I stand for, and to fight against injustice and prejudice."

  "But honey, you still did not tell me what happened!"

  "The new administration of the WCFET is