On this day, 200 years ago, dark fate cast a heavy shadow over Karitsa

The bells fell silent, and the village turned into a wail of sorrow

By Dimitris Katsambis

Translated from “Karitsiotika Nea”

Thursday, 11 September 

The village’s history turned to its darkest page on 11 September 1825, when fire, fear, captivity and death ravaged its memory and spirit.

In 1825, a detachment under Ibrahim Pasha launched a brutal raid, aiming to exterminate and terrorise the people of Laconia and lay waste to their land. Wherever they passed, they slaughtered civilians, took young men and women captive, and burned villages and homesteads to the ground.

The Battle at Mnimata

Resistance at "Sta Mnimata"

On the morning of Friday, 11th September 1825, a day before they torched Geraki and just four days before the holocaust at Paliomonastiro, a fierce battle erupted between Ibrahim's forces and the Greek fighters under Kolokotronis on the mountain opposite Agios Ioannis in Karitsa. Locals still recount how many villagers ran to help the Greek fighters. In fact, a fellow villager was killed in the fighting; his body was carried back on a ladder to be buried in Karitsa. It's also said that many enemy soldiers fell. From that day on, the slope was named "Mnimata" (The Graves), as it appears the Muslim forces buried their dead there.

Fleeing to the Forest of Tsouka

In a state of panic, the villagers fled to the forest of Tsouka, west of the village. From there, that same afternoon, they watched in anguish as flames and smoke rose from several burning houses in Karitsa. Soon, the fire engulfed the forest around them. Local folklore tells that Georgakis Tsebelis and his wife, Eirini, were captured. In Tsouka, according to accounts, two other young Tsebelis women were also taken prisoner; they were raped and murdered.

The Captives of Karitsa

The village mourned its daughters and mothers

Official records preserved to this day in the General State Archives (GAK) provide a more detailed picture. A list of captives notes that Georgakis, son of Konstandis Tsebelis, his wife Eirini, and his sister, whose first name we do not know, were among 23 captives taken in Karitsa, mostly women and children. The prisoners were taken to a camp in Messenia and from there were loaded onto ships bound for the slave markets of the Middle East, where their fate was forever lost. Recent findings not only confirm but also add to this information. Stelios Hagias, coordinator of the research into the Family Trees of Southern Parnon, cross-referenced the data and reveals that the two Tsebelis women were in fact a daughter-in-law and a sister-in-law.

The Child of Misfortune

Another tragic detail comes to light: a third Tsebelis girl, seven-year-old Chrysoula, the daughter of Georgakis and Eirini, also fell into the hands of the enemy. Stories passed down tell that she suffered horrific torture; the Turks tied her delicate little hands with ropes and dragged her behind a horse. However, the little girl managed to escape and survive, evading the fate of her mother and aunt.

The List of Captives

What follows is a list of names of those captured in Karitsa, in alphabetical order, as preserved in the archives…

Georgakis Kon. Tsembelis (with two children, a son and a daughter of Konstantis Tzapoulis), Irini (his daughter, Irini Georg. Tsembelis),The wife of Dimitrakis Maroudas with her daughter, Panaina Maroudou with her daughter (Panaina, daughter of Pan. Maroudis), The son of G. Lagos, Two children of G. Midis, A small child of Mitros Kanellis, Morfo, daughter of Georgakis Milos, Two sons of Christos Perdis, Aikaterini, daughter of the same, Aikaterini, daughter of Mitros Kanellis, in a cave at Vrontamas, Kanella, daughter of Giannakis Mitroudas, Kanella, daughter of Mitros Bratis, at the castle of Kremasti, Thanasis, son of Kostas Sakellariou, at Velita (the settlement of Velota), Nikolaïna, widow of Polygainas, Diamanto, daughter of Poulitsas, from Apidia, at the castle of Kremasti, Her two daughters.

Memory and Duty

It's clear that several of these names do not belong to people from Karitsa, but rather to refugees from Geraki. This makes sense when you consider that, on that day, many women and children had fled Geraki via Sorbanos to seek safety and were likely captured alongside the people of Karitsa. In any case, it is our duty to remember and honour all of them, whether from Karitsa or the neighbouring villages.

Little Chrysoula: child of calamity, symbol of hope and endurance

Little Chrysoula,

her gaze brimming with innocence and courage,

stands at life's threshold,

a living symbol of hope and resilience

The story of little Chrysoula remains deeply etched in the village's memory. The testimony of her suffering was passed down by word of mouth until Stelios Hagias recorded it from the late Katerina Rozakli, née Malavazou.

Chrysoula was just seven years old at the time, the daughter of Georgakis and Eirini Tsebelis. Along with her mother, whom fellow villagers later remembered as ‘the Enslaved One,’ her father, and her aunt, whose name has been lost, she was taken captive by Ibrahim’s soldiers. Fate was harsh; her mother and aunt were lost, but Georgakis and little Chrysoula managed to escape and return to the village.

Later, her father Georgakis remarried, had seven more children, and died in 1861 at the age of 65.

Chrysoula, the child who knew the horrors of war, lived a long and fruitful life. She married Nikolaos Anastasiou Malavazos, known as ‘Konto-Nikolas’, and they had four daughters together. She lived for almost a century, until she was 95, and in her old age was known to everyone as ‘Giagia Mou-Mou’. She passed away in 1913, leaving behind a whole dynasty; to this day, she has over 150 descendants across seven generations. Among them are Stelios Hagias himself, a fifth-generation descendant, and the author of this piece, Dimitris Katsambis, her great-great-grandson.

And so, little Chrysoula, who was once dragged along tied behind a horse, became, along with her father, a symbol of life, resilience, and continuity for all the people of Karitsa.

Epilogue

Recording these events is not merely of historical importance; it is a legacy and a memory for us all. The tragedy of the people of Karitsa and their neighbours in 1825, but also the salvation of little Chrysoula, are symbols of endurance, faith, and continuity. By keeping these stories alive, we honour not only our ancestors but also the very value of memory that unites us as a Laconian community worldwide.