April 2021

Another month has gone by. Greece seldom rates a mention on the international scene, so that not too many people know that this week the nation will complete five months of its second lockdown. Restrictions vary in severity, but even here in the Deep Agricultural South we are forbidden to leave our particular dimos, or local area, while Athenians are not allowed to venture more than 2km from home. In the meantime the Covid situation shows no sign of improvement and the hospitals, especially in Athens, are under a great deal of pressure. Most of us are suffering from Covid fatigue and what I call Lockdown Lethargy, marked, at least in my case, by a sense of futility. Still, most of us muddle on somehow. But I still haven’t been able to see granddaughter Aphrodite.

Western Easter is here again, but Orthodox Easter is late this year: May 2^nd is Easter Day in the Orthodox world. (I have had the difference in dates explained to me several times, but the explanation has never stuck: well, it’s complicated.) Last year the government cancelled Easter, but they do not want to go down the same path again. Naturally not. So the whole country is in suspense.

As I have mentioned before, in normal times the month of March would have been one of great celebration in Greece and throughout the diaspora, for March the 25^th marks 200 years since the Greeks rose in revolt against the Ottoman Turks, who had ruled them for 400 years. Of course there had been many attempts at revolt before, but all had met with failure. And the Greece that became free in 1821 was not the Greece of today. Parts of northern Greece were still under Ottoman rule until 1883, while Crete and Thessaloniki did not become Greek until 1912.

It is fair to say, I think, that every society has a chain of race-memories clanking along behind it. But in the case of white Australian society the chain is broken, or has a few links missing. I have a vague idea about villages in Northern Ireland and in Scotland, with firmer notions of Acle in Norfolk and Wendron in Cornwall, but they are still very sketchy. My half-Greek children, however, grew up just down the mountain from their ancestral home, from which place seven men of their line joined the rebels in 1821. It is documented fact that their great-great-grandfather fought in the Battle of Tripoli. And what a bloody battle that was.

Even when we were still in Australia their father would hire national dress for the boys to wear on March the 25^th, and tell them about rebels in Kalamata leading the way on March the 23^rd. (Kalamata was the first city to fall to the Greeks.) In Greece they took it in turns to wear the outfit that their great-grandfather had bought by dint of walking his donkey, loaded with oil, through the mountains to Tripoli, which is about 80km away. This costume has now been worn by four generations. It consists of the pleated kilt, the fustanella, all nine metres of it (and a devil to iron), an embroidered waistcoat, and a very elaborate leather belt, tucked and folded: it was in one of the pockets that the old man’s will was found after his death in 1940. The boys recited poems, joined school marches, sang patriotic songs and danced traditional dances every year. And now my grandchildren do the same.

But not this year. Some celebrations did go ahead, however. The military parade was held in Athens, albeit in modified form. There was a mounted contingent of evzones , and a group of children dressed in regional costumes marched along, waving little Greek flags. The original flags, those used by the revolutionaries, were also paraded, along with the mandatory tanks, armoured vehicles, and the equally mandatory fly-past. I confess I am not much interested in these conventional military displays, but the brass bands were good! Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall were in Athens for the occasion, and the relevant people were very appreciative of the fact that the former spoke a few words of Greek at the official reception. He didn’t do too badly, either, in expressing the fervent wish Long Live Greece!

Famous Cretan writer Nikos Kazantzakis quoted the idea of Hellenism being like a warm and mighty river. As such, it has flowed into 140 countries around the world, with 700,000 people of Greek origin being resident in Australia, the first coming to New South Wales in 1829 as convicts. They were seven sailors, who had been sentenced by a British naval court to transportation for piracy. Now there are Greek communities in every capital city in the land.

Celebrations were of necessity subdued in Greece this year, but the Blue and White was flying from every flag-pole. I’m sure it was also flying in many parts of Australia, including the place I remember best, Lonsdale Street, Melbourne.