April 2022

What a month March has been! The Ukrainian situation has only become worse, and is now in its fifth week of death, destruction, and general upheaval. The statistics are hard to take in: ten million people are now displaced, and more than three million have left Ukraine altogether, with the vast majority of those being women and children, as men aged 18-60 are forbidden to leave the country. The one bright spot is the reaction of people in the neighbouring countries to which Ukrainians have fled, for the latter have been met with offers of help too numerous to mention, with aid being forthcoming on a very large and organised scale. But of course the pressing question is: how long can this huge effort be sustained? There are now more than two million refugees in Poland alone.

And how long can the brave efforts of the Ukrainian armed forces be maintained? They have already given the Russians many a shock, and seem determined to keep on fighting, while many foreigners, such as three ex British Army men documented by the BBC last week, are going to Ukraine to help the war effort. Civilians seem determined to resist, despite desperate hardship, bombardment and general slaughter. But the harsh fact remains that, despite great effort and the tremendous leadership shown by President Zelensky, Russia has superior fire power and a huge reservoir of resources that will be inevitably directed against Ukraine. So here’s hoping that the peace talks to be resumed in Constantinople will bear some positive fruit.

I often wonder about types like President Putin. What makes them tick? Putin is a father, yet he remains indifferent to the fate of thousands of children. He believes that Ukraine should be part of a greater Russia, but has no compunction about punishing a whole population when it resists his plans. The great nineteenth-century historian, Lord Acton, had firm ideas about the corrupting influence of power, and I’m sure he was right. Nina Kruscheva, the great-granddaughter of Nikita Kruschev, is also persuaded by Lord Acton’s thinking, and is of the opinion that Putin has been corrupted by his 22 years in power.

It is a truism that childhood never goes away, and it is a significant fact, I think, that many tyrants spent their early years in an atmosphere marked by poverty and brutality: Putin certainly did. I think children contending with such circumstances cultivate indifference as a defence mechanism. Of course millions of people have miserable childhood experiences, and do not become tyrants or dictators, but in cases such as Putin’s, circumstances combine to make such a career possible, if not inevitable.

Well, I didn’t escape: today I tested negative after having Covid for ten days. Thank goodness for vaccines, and my triple dose, as I’m sure I got off comparatively lightly, without chest pains or breathing problems. But I couldn’t stop sneezing, and had a hacking cough, along with a high temperature, which fortunately didn’t last long. The worst thing was an almost total lack of energy, which had me feeling like a piece of chewed string, as my mother would have said. Or like a penn’orth of God-help-us, which was another of her favourite expressions. Although I’ve never minded solitude, quarantine is quite another matter. I was helped by the weather, as it happened. There was quite a lot of rather treacherous spring sunshine, but it was accompanied by a truly brutal north wind. (When I remember my earlier life and mention a hot north wind, the locals are considerably bemused.) So I had no great desire to be outside, even though the wild flowers continue to bloom in mad profusion.

Independence Day (March the 25^th) has come and gone. Had I been able to, I would have gone to see and hear my youngest grandson and elder granddaughter recite their patriotic poems at school. This excursion was of course forbidden, but I was able to view the children’s performance per courtesy of Messenger. There they were with their flags and dressed appropriately in blue and white, the colours of the Greek flag. At their age, my mates and I celebrated Empire Day at school: May the 24^th, Queen Victoria’s birthday. That memory really dates me, and it is also a long time since Empire Day evolved into Commonwealth Day, although I don’t imagine it is remembered the way Empire Day was.

The next event marked on the family calendar is that of my youngest grandchild’s christening, which is to take place on the day after Orthodox Easter. I am the one who is amused and bemused to note that this is also Anzac Day: nobody else will register this (why would they?) unless I tell them. But I’m pleased, as I have the sense of my two little worlds meeting in a significant way.

And the wattles are forming an avenue of bright yellow along Kalamata’s waterfront.