In the mid-70s, when Nikos Diamantis was studying in Thessaloniki, no one, according to him, talked about Islahan. “The Physics Department of the Aristotelian University was located diagonally opposite the historical complex. Every day for many years I climbed Vizinou to visit the Forty Churches. Years of silence covered the history of the first orphanage and technical school built in the last period of Ottoman rule in Thessaloniki,” says the director and founder of the Simeio Theater today. In a few days, with a special tour performance and visual installation, she will acquaint the general public with the history of this historic boys’ home, which has operated from 1874 to the present day. Today as a modern cultural center.

Following the route since the founding of Islahan by the city’s Muslim community to receive orphans of all religions, the facilities it acquired as well as its use changed after 1912 (when Thessaloniki joined the body of the Greek state and the complex passed to the Greek state), Nikos Diamantis also tells us about the change in his ownership status. For his transformation from an Ottoman technical school for orphans to a refugee asylum and then to a Greek public school (of which the writer Giorgos Ioannou and the writer and scholar Ilias Petropoulos were also students). Until 1992, it also functioned as a site for industrial private facilities, in recent years the building housed the Axilitioti machine shop. At that time, the former laboratory building was classified by the Ministry of Culture as a historical monument with its equipment. The project for the restoration and reuse of the monument as a multicultural site was included 11 years ago in the Macedonia-Thrace Operational Program of the NSRF and completed in 2015. Today it belongs to the Ephorate of New Monuments of Central Macedonia.

What is the history of these first vocational schools in Islahan, which were not prisons, but polytechnic schools and operated from Damascus to Skopje? Their goal was the technical education of orphans and disadvantaged boys aged 5 to 13. “At the school in Thessaloniki, we know that the study lasted five years, that it was not a prison, but a rehabilitation home, and most importantly, in addition to the Muslim students who made up the majority, they also accepted Jewish children. so do Christians.” All children were taught typography, lithography, carpentry, woodcarving, weaving, shoemaking, tailoring, and also attended lessons on the Koran, the basics of religious studies, Turkish reading, spelling and calligraphy, arithmetic, Ottoman grammar, geometry, geography, painting, even French, Arabic and Persian.

Nikos Diamantis mentions the comments of the traveler Alfred Van de Brühl, who, under the impression, wrote in 1904 that this school was better than in the monastery and in Skopje. “This is one of the best examples that can be obtained through the cooperation of European technical specialists, in addition to political views, in the Macedonia region,” he describes.

From August 1922 to March 1923, about 120,000 refugees from Asia Minor and Eastern Thrace arrived in Thessaloniki and the main building of the Islakhan shelter. The Central Bureau of Exchange, which has taken over its management, is responsible for the resettlement of families of Greek refugees. Today, this area is a monumental reserve: nearby are the cemeteries of Evangelistria, the Protesters, the Armenian community, the hospitals of Agios Dimitrios and Gennimata, Pasha Gardens, the house-museum of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the eastern walls of the city, the Byzantine church of Agios Nikolaos Orfanos…

“Historian Eleni Kiramardgiou told me about Islahan for the first time,” Nikos Diamantis tells “K” during a break in the preparation of the theatrical-visual intervention, which will involve ten writers, the same number of actors and three visual artists, on September 5 and 6 in the historical place in Thessaloniki. As well as an open discussion that will follow on the second day under the title: “Why don’t I know Islahane?”.

“An impressive mosaic of orphan boys who choose to fight honestly for their lives and work hard.”

He characterizes it as an example of the reforms undertaken by the Ottoman Empire during the Janzimat period (1839-1876) and the modernizing educational trends of the time. “Researching the history of the school in Thessaloniki, I saw that it was a systematic educational policy and actually in line with the norms of the Enlightenment.”

As for his performance, he says that it is about modest stories in the great river of History. Stories of people who meet in this shelter. “I began with the need to illuminate the humble, nameless, dishonest people, the shadows of life that will be forgotten if someone does not see their great struggle and great tragedy behind a small picture. When discussing 22 years, I was interested in the future, the vision and the common good. The emergence of the future, which is the result of the continuous evolution of the historical moment, the unexpected thread, the repetition that characterizes the human adventure.

Islakhan acquired the character of a meeting of religions, communities, hunting. “An impressive mosaic of orphan boys who decided to honestly fight for life and work hard. Today more than ever, when the concept of toil, manual labor and sweat is lost behind screens and networks, Islahane’s history as a place of meeting rather than separation is impressive. Moreover, the same original concept of the institution, which goes back directly to the Enlightenment throughout the Ottoman Empire, gives us in the Eastern Mediterranean an example of how to improve the situation of poor orphans, helpless to gain a future and a social position.

The underground thread that binds cultures in Thessaloniki is also of interest to the director. Such as the connection with Agios Nikolaos Sirota, the patron saint of orphans, a small church of extraordinary beauty with a parallel life that begins with the politics of Basil the Great, and a school in Cappadocia that were essentially schools to support orphans or the needy. A small church not far from the Islahane area, where his speech will begin.

Nikos Diamantis asked the authors Aki Dima, Isidoros Zurgos, Michalis Makropoulos, Glykeria Basdekis, Sophia Nikolaida, Giorgos Skabardonis, Tsimaras Tzanatos, Stelios Hatziadamidis, Christos Chrysopoulos and Giannis Chrysoulis to talk about the “ghostly canvas” in the historical Ottoman shelter. . And from Dimitris Maramis to prepare a hymn-prayer. It will replace the lyrics by Isidoros Zurgos, which will be played on a ten-minute walking route that the public will follow until they reach the Islahane multi-purpose hall that is in operation today. There he will listen to the rest of the stories of the actors until they are all in the courtyard of the complex. “The performance lasts two hours, and there will be breaks for rest,” says the director.

To what does he himself attribute years of silence about Islachan in Thessaloniki? “In fear and conservative thinking, endure, accept, discuss anything else at the level of religion and perception. This often happens in society and fuels hatred even today. And this is evident in the visual intervention we are making under the direction of Phoebus Sakalis, thanks to the bold work of Eva Stefanis, as well as Dimitris Antonitsis and Giorgos Lappa, who talk about the social system that fuels violence. Islahane is an example of cultures finding ways to promote goodness.”

“Islakhane” will be presented within the program of the Ministry of Culture “All Greece is culture”. Editor: Ioannis Makris, scientific advisors: Eleni Kiramargiou, Arethi Kondylidou.

Tough winter

Speaking with Nikos Diamantis, one cannot help but ask how the theatrical winter, which is already planned, will go on: “Due to problems with energy, the season is predicted to be a failure! But we are also a country that has learned to live on benefits and now, in the midst of a terrible war, we are suffering the consequences on many levels. In this climate, people cannot choose repertory theatre. And this will further widen the gap between state theaters and repertory theatres, the lifeblood of theater in Greece. These theaters are in decline. The growth is disproportionate, and, unfortunately, the theater did not take care of updating its audience in time. I learned about it in the summer, too, when I saw a lot of great performances.” The theater eats his flesh. Pandemic, complaints, accusations, outbreaks: “It all started 40 years ago with educational poverty and also with the immobility of the people who control public money,” he replies. “Look how the face of public money is changing: National, KTHBE, Athens Festival. This is the real me of theater: power. The big problem is that those in power did not interact with the public quantitatively and qualitatively. Train it, make it better, breed it.”