Occasionally, up by chicken-chasing, the cackle, the sounds, all of a sudden a village woman would appear and start to curse in her own heavy(difficult) macedonian language.The soldiers offered her money, and searched for whom they should compensate for the damages, and also to buy bread, wine, tsipuro,
butter, cheese and other eatables. Instead they got in return the same stereotypical answer, that they first heard outside Nausa where they met the first slavic speaking villager, who answered us
with his head bent down, the answer we got wherever we went, from the outskirts of Thessaloniki and all the way to Florina, it was the same melancholic answer to all our demands: Nema, there is none.
Taken from "Oi Polemoi 1912-1913" by Spirou Mela from 1972.