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Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Easter. Show all posts

Friday, 14 April 2017

Πάσχα στην Άνω Κορακιάνα - Good Friday

Pietro Lorenzetti Christ's entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday 

It’s Good Friday. What a waste it would be, if people like me, without faith in resurrection, miracles or virgin birth, might be tempted to throw out such an accurate demonstration of human nature; even turning away from witnessing the same population who provided a cheering procession last Sunday as Jesus arrived in Jerusalem on a peaceful donkey, but became, within a week, victim of a blood drenched lynching, incited by a religious hierarchy panicked, in their high offices, by the breach of small regulations; an uneasy imperial governor who for political expediency makes the killing of an innocent man official, ignoring his wife's pleas, and lending wood, nails and executioners; of a dear friend whose uncomprehending disappointment turns to anger and impulsive betrayal, and another, who’s resolution faltered when faced with torchlit darkness, armed soldiery and the dreadful smells and sounds of torture. Caiaphas, Pilate, Judas, Peter. There are many bit parts. Simon of Cyrene who carried the cross part of the way up to Golgotha; Veronica who lent her veil to wipe Jesus’ face; two thieves walking to the same death. Many witnesses.
Andrea di Bartolo Way to Calvary
** ** ** **
It's not that I take Greece for granted now we've been regularly at home here these ten years. Not for a moment. It's that some of the fervent, and to Lin, I suspect, feelings that would overtake me when I touched on Greek ground and heard Greek spoken and saw it written, are not so impulsively expressed. I was in love - am still in love - with this place, but now it's more like an extended friendship. Companionship. I'm at ease here.
Hannah and Oliver on the walls of Kassiopi castle
I hoover the floor. I know the details of dust, the mould on the plaka, the dry shed leaves I sweep from our small garden. I love hanging washing that dries in hours, seeing it blowing in the warm breezes that waft between the village and the mountains; remembering to feed the cats where they've left their shit - after I've washed it away - so we won't tread in it as we go up and down the steps to Democracy Street, whose blemishes I know in my sleep. I change the broken bulb in the municipal light that hangs off a bracket on the side of the house, helping us in and out at night. In the morning the piss-pots emptied on the compost of greenery and dried weeds along with peelings from potatoes and carrots. In the grandchildren's case I enjoy reminding Oliver, as I empty his, that only male wee works on compost. One day Hannah will challenge me on this. Oliver's learning the difference between 'bitch' as a rude word and the description of a 'lady dog'. I don't want him getting into trouble with teachers, but nor do I want him town-ignorant. Five days ago swallows began returning to Ano Korakiana.
There was a problem with our water supply. Strong as usual outside; a dribble indoors. I needed to replace the pressure regulator that moderated the high pressure supply to the village. Bought from a plumber by Sgombou, the new kit wasn't too tricky to fit in place of the old one, blocked and rusted, unwilling to loosen up when tapped with a hammer.

Fiddlier was mending the sink drain inside a cupboard in the utility room. Woeking on bended knees is harder work these days, as I explain to Oliver, watching with pleasing interest.
"Turn on the tap....wili it leak? Yes? No! It's OK. I'll tidy things up later"
Mending the sink drain u-bend in the utility room

...nnd Lin's already resealed a gap that's opened up between the stove and its lid, using thermal filler and sealing rope. 
On Good Friday afternoon we drove to a stretch of empty shore at Sidari, treading on warm cushions of dry seaweed, sat on the jetty.

Friday, 10 May 2013

Summer Song's ready to go back in the sea


A succession of clear skies and proliferating greenery and, with the heat, the steady increase of public voices up and down Democracy Street, among our neighbours and people walking by, sometimes stopping for conversation by the green railing at the top of our shared steps now, as everywhere over this late Easter across Greece, outlined with dazzling whitewash, asvesti, ασβεστή.
Dave has booked the crane to put Summersong back in the water for Saturday - tomorrow. He'd texted me ‘today finally finished the outside paintwork ….’ 

How I relish this sub-plot. It also makes me nervous. Dave got back from delivering a yacht to Trieste last week “a four day job that took a week. We had three separate forecasts from reliable sources predicting light headwinds all the way. We got into the straits opposite Saranda and it blew up force 6, gusting higher, and then steady headwinds for the next 600 miles. The Jeanneau has a broad hull for charter accommodation. Up she went. Down she went, crash, bang, crash, bang, No let up. And the porpoises. They’d come up alongside and look at you. You’d look back. Think they’d gone away and look in another direction. Whoosh it’s standing on its tail saying ‘boo’ and peering in your face eye to eye”
Dave works on Summer Song

Lin and I pursue a procession of jobs in and out of the house, Effi and Adoni next door continue to adorn their garden with more plants brought with them from Thrace before Easter. I’ve drilled holes in the base of make-shift flowerpots for her. Effi paints paint tins deep blue and concrete breezeblocks red before filling them with soil to make them into planters. Lin’s painting doors. 
I’ve helped sand them. I’ve shaved the edges of our wooden front door to make it open and close more freely, tidied the electric cables leading to the municipal light bolted into the side of our house, cleaned the windows of winter grime, transferred a heap of sorted thigh tiles from under our veranda to the apothiki, mended a puncture in the rear wheel of my Brompton...
...rebuilt the wooden carrier on the back of my larger bicycle, tidied out the porch locker and inserted a cut down palette to keep above damp the odd sacks of cement, plaster and the dusty dye that mixes with asvesti to give it a colour, and prepared, with sanding and paint scraper, one side of the house above the side balcony for painting, warning Vasiliki there might be some dust. Her carpets and rugs were coming in anyway, well sun-dried. 
Painting the house
I'm not a good handyman. As Lin, who is, says “You break things”, I’m unco-ordinated, slightly clumsy. My mother, ages ago, said my dad was “all fingers and thumbs” when it came to practical tasks involving building, joinery, electrics or plumbing. My stepfather was quite the opposite, able to drive a desk as well as a workbench, creative in advertising, broadcasting and during the war stripping down the gear box of a tank (I saw his diagrams in an old file) and, later when the war office discovered them, exercising his talents as a communicator, creating propaganda. I didn’t learn to be tidy until I sailed a small boat and was made forcefully aware, by waves, of the consequences of not being ‘shipshape’. 'Spick and span' is not my inclination – in clothes, hair, shoes or any other walk of life – like gardening. It can be done but I have to work at it, hence my struggle with digging and sowing, the essential precursors of growing anything in soil. How I admire and respect people with craft, who have artistry in their hands whether laying tiles, fiddling with circuitry, inserting stitches, turning a pot, tying a fly, making a dove-tail joint and all the myriad brilliances humans do with their hands. What I do succeed in - jobs others would hardly reckon on giving a second thought - gives me pride, though it takes ages, involves endless fiddling, and an inventory of tools that might or might not be needed. The other day I made a typical mistake. Having treated myself to a SDS drill to deal with drilling in stone and brick, I added a conventional chuck in my order so’s I could use my existing wood drills. I wanted to drill through the house wall to attach an outside electric socket. The only masonry drill long enough was a conventional one. I inserted it in the chuck adapted for the SDS; set the drill on hammer – and of course stripped the thread of the adaptor chuck. Later I spent a good few euros buying a sufficient length SDS drill. A craftsman would have known not to make such an expensive mistake. I tell myself I must have some practical abilities. I can change punctures on bicycles. I taught myself simple astral navigation long ago so’s I could use a sextant to find where we were in the Atlantic. I’ve taken down a small mast in the middle of the Bay of Biscay and replaced its broken halliard pulley. I’ve added a veranda to my allotment shed. I can change the inner tube on the back wheel of a Brompton – in the rain. 
And rain, with thunder, was what we got in abundance for one day earlier in the week, even as the village lost its water supply for twelve hours and I borrowed water for washing and flushing....
... from Effi's and Adoni's well just across the path between us.
After what seems like over a year of surface preparation Linda has started painting the outside of the house. I've been filling in small spaces she can't reach, handing up paint pots, and holding the stepladder steady for her.




*** *** ***
Around noon on Easter Sunday, Vasiliki brought around a plate of lamb meat, including delectable kokoretsi κοκορέτσι. Our other neighbours brought us more from their spit (squeaking away through the morning) plus two glasses of raki.
Κοκορέτσι και ρακί από την Μαρία και τον Ιωάννη
We were also given red dyed hard boiled eggs - the ones you have to try and crack by knocking them together with another, like conkers (sort of). In return Lin and I wrote Easter cards and she made chocolate eggs specially decorated and wrapped for our neighbours' children.
For our Easter Sunday supper we were invited to Paul and Cinty's house where, with his parents, Phil and Sheila, and his brother Mark and Sally we enjoyed a balmy evening, buzzed by swallows as dusk settled on us. No lamb on a spit but, instead, a succulent successon of meats off the barbecue - lamb chops, sausages, souvlaki, liver, pork belly draft, a delicately carved wood pigeon...salads and, later, all the strawberries and cream we could eat...

...and and I enjoyed my home made Margarita from a salt-rimed glass.
I'll especially recall a reflective chat about Golden Dawn, Χρυσή Αυγή; the worry that there's a generation in Greece who've not only forgotten the nature of authoritarian rule, but actually think it might be what's needed now. "It means" said C, reflecting her own experience of dictatorial rule even three years after the fall of the Junta, "that the police are in charge and the preferences and prejudices of a particular police officer will determine your case." I recalled that G.K. Chesterton, initially sympathetic to Fascism, in Italy and Spain, as a solution to democratic failure, issued a pre-war warning about Nazism in German; if it happened in England "imagine" he wrote "if in each street the man in charge of the rest of us, with legal authority to boss the rest of us about, is the school bully."

Golden Dawn office in Greece
From Jan D in York:
 …The latest Rich List has been published of the 1000 wealthiest people in Britain. They constitute 0.003% of the population. In the last year alone they have increased their wealth by £35billion, and since the crash four years ago they have increased their wealth by £190 billion (Remember the phrase “we are all in this together").
Their combined wealth is £449billion (the public sector deficit is approx. £120 billion). There are now 88 billionaires in Britain. During the same time there has been a 7% reduction in real wages. This year £19billion has been removed from welfare benefits and just now £320million (an insignificant figure to government finance) has been removed from the Independent Living Fund for 20,000 disabled people. The government has ‘transferred’ this duty to Local Authorities, but there is no money beyond 2015, so effectively they are closing the fund without ever having told anybody. There has been a legal challenge by disabled people which they lost. They are appealing. A good example of ideology triumphing over evidence or rationality let alone morality. Obviously the government sees many disabled people as ‘skivers’ (morally reprehensible) and not the ‘strivers’ (morally superior) the government wants to promote. To be disabled is therefore by definition being a ‘skiver’ in other words ‘undesirable’. They don't dare to say this of course, but the actions speak for themselves. This is getting uncomfortably close to what I read about in Professor Evans’ books on the Third Reich. 
Zoe Williams said the following about this: "What I mind the most is the readiness with which government will now lie. The prime minister lies about the national debt. The secretary of state will lie about immigration. The chancellor will lie about benefit claimants. They will be wrapped over the knuckles by Office of National Statistics or Office for Budget Responsibility, take their punishment and go straight out and lie again". Despite this the government’s ‘narrative’ resonates and is believed by large sections, in some cases, the majority of the population. This would make an interesting study! Surely this provides LAs with an opportunity to offer a different moral vision based on hard evidence – a localism based on transparency, accountability and honesty. Am I being naïve again? On a lighter note, just noticed that after twenty years of a failing austerity regime, Japan has decided to do a U-turn and pump money into the economy. Stock markets immediately shot up! Best Jan
*** ***
On Easter Monday we joined the long happy parade around the boundaries of Ano Korakiana:
Η επανεμφάνιση μετά από πολλές δεκαετίες της εικόνας της Παναγίας της «Δημοσιάνας» στη Λιτανεία της 2ης Μέρας του Πάσχα στο χωριό, επανέφερε στη μνήμη των παλαιοτέρων τα προβλήματα λειψυδρίας και τις σχετικές παρακλήσεις. Πραγματικά, με το πέρας της Λειτουργίας στον Άη-Θανάση και ενώ διαρκούσε η προετοιμασία των τμημάτων της Λιτανείας, ο ουρανός συννέφιασε και άρχισε να ψιχαλίζει για αρκετή ώρα.
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Το γεγονός ξάφνιασε αρκετούς, που προσέτρεξαν σε όποιο πρόσφορο καταφύγιο για την προστασία από τη βροχή, ακόμη δε και κάτω από το μπαρλακί. Λίγο αργότερα και ενώ η ψιλή βροχή συνεχιζόταν η Λιτανεία θα ξεκινήσει.
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Νέο στοιχείο της Λιτανείας, η διπρόσωπη εικόνα της Παναγίας, αφιερωμένη από την οικογένεια της Στάμως Αλεξίου Ιωνά, η οποία συντηρήθηκε πρόσφατα και από τη μια πλευρά εμφανίζει την Θεοτόκο με το Χριστό και από την άλλη τον Άγιο Αθανάσιο. Η εικόνα αυτή, που λιτανεύονταν μέχρι τις αρχές του περασμένου αιώνα και έφτανε έως την Παλαιοκαστρίτσα, βασταζόμενη από γυναίκες θα λάβει θέση κάτω από το μπαρλακί, ενώ η έτερη εικόνα, η γνωστή, της Αναστάσεως θα προηγηθεί, «ασκεπής».
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Η πομπή θα διαβεί τη Νεροσυρμή και από το γεφύρι του Βάρδα θα ανεβεί στη Βενετιά. Η πορεία στα στενά, στολισμένη με σκόρπια δαφνόφυλλα. Εκεί, στα σκαλιά του Άη-Γιάκωβου θα τελεστεί η πρώτη στάση για Δέηση.
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Στο δρόμο της Βενετιάς πλέον, η πομπή θα ανασυνταχθεί σε πλήρη ανάπτυξη. Στο γεφυράκι του Μούλου πρώτα θα μπουν τα παιδιά με το Σταυρό, τις λαμπάδες και τα εξαπτέρυγα και μετά οι σκόλες και τα φλάμπουρα. Θα ακολουθήσει τμήμα του Σχολικού Κέντρου Φαιάκων και μετά η Φιλαρμονική υπό τον Κώστα Ζερβόπουλο και η Χορωδία υπό τον Γιώργο Άνθη. Πιο πίσω το μπαρλακί και οι δύο εικόνες, συνοδευόμενες από άγημα του Ναυτικού (ύστερα από αρκετά χρόνια).Στις δε «γραμμές των επισήμων», ο Πρόεδρος και μέλη του Τοπικού Συμβουλίου, η εκπρόσωπος του Δήμου, κα Καποδίστρια, ο πολιτευτής κ. Γκίκας, ο τέως Αντινομάρχης Τάκης Μεταλληνός, ο Πρόεδρος των Άνω Κορακιανιτών Αθηνών Σπύρος Κένταρχος κ.ά.
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Μετά τη στροφή της Κέκας θα ψαλεί μία ακόμη δέηση προς τον Άη-Γιώργη, καθώς και το «Μεγαλυνάριο» του Αγίου, που ψελνόταν επί εποχής παπα-Κουρίνη.
Η Τρίτη δέηση θα ψαλεί στον Άγιο, στην Αρκούδενα και η πομπή αφού φτάσει στην άκρη της Μουργάδας, θα κατηφορίσει για τον αποκάτω δρόμο και από εκεί για τον Άη-Θανάση.
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Εκεί, όπως πάντα, ένα δροσερό κέρασμα και άρτος θα περιμένουν τους πιστούς.

Sunday, 1 April 2012

Two Easters

Latin Palm Sunday ~ 1 April 2012
We would have set out tonight but we''ve postponed travel to Greece awaiting the birth of our first grandson. We'll not be in Ano Korakiana until the middle of Greek Easter - a fortnight after the Latin; as Mark said when I e-mailed him.
"Well you will just  have to throw your bags through your door and play catch up on the booze and food, on arrival."
At nine this morning Guy phoned.
"Amy's went to the hospital at 3.00. They sent her home. Then we went in again at 7.30"
We said we'd to go and collect Cookie dog to feed and stay with us.
"So we're going to have two Easter's" said Lin
Oliver Sebastian Hollier
In the village yesterday, the Eastern celebration of the prayer to Mary in Ag.Giorgos Church, referred to as Akathistos, Ακάθιστος, meaning 'not sitting'. The church is bright, the anthem one of jubilation, the congregation standing to rejoice...
Ημέρα του Ακάθιστου Ύμνου η χθεσινή για τα εκκλησιαστικά μας και στον Άη – Γιώργη ξεκίνησε από τις 7 το απόγευμα η Ακολουθία των «24 Οίκων». Η φωνή του παπα-Κώστα απλωνόταν έως το περιαύλιο του ναού, με τα επαναλαμβανόμενα «Χαίρε…». Νίκος και Τάκης Σαββανής θα ξεχωρίσουν στην απαγγελία του «Άσπιλε» και του «Και δος ημίν Δέσποτα» αντίστοιχα, ενώ προς το τέλος της Λειτουργίας, ο Νίκος Μεταλληνός θα αναγνώσει κείμενο με την ερμηνεία του Ύμνου και στη συνέχεια το εκκλησίασμα θα περάσει μπροστά από τη μεγάλη εικόνα της Παναγίας για προσκύνημα…
It was Akathistos Anthem Day yesterday celebrated at Saint George's, the sequence of '24 Stanzas' starting at 7 pm. The voice of Father Costa spread through the church, with the repeated call "Rejoice ..." Nikos and Takis Savvani reciting the 'Immaculate' prayer and the Lord's Prayer 'Give us this day our daily bread', respectively, while towards the end of the Liturgy, Nick Metallinos reading an interpretation of the Anthem, after which the congregation passed the icon of the Virgin on pilgrimage ...This isn't a satisfactory translation of Thanassis' words on the village web. At least I'm not trying to translate the actual Anthem which contains rhetorical devices that defy translation' with an alphabetical acrostic for the first word of each hymn, κοντάκιον, and its stanzas - οίκος, house - and the lines beginning ‘Rejoice!’ full of internal rhymes that work in Greek. 
*** ***

Phone call to Lin from Guy just after noon
"You have a grandson"
Oliver and grandparents at Good Hope this afternoon

*** ***
Because our fellow member of Handsworth helping Hands wrote most of this I've managed to slip off a Grant application for Community Chest Funding for this coming year

Distracted I sent it off to Michael Brown of the North West Birmingham Development Agency, who's leading on local Community Development instead of Ken Brown, our Ward Support Officer  ken_brown@birmingham.gov.uk
Mike Tye pointed it out and my mistake was repaired in minutes, with swift apologies and redirection. I've got to print out and sign a hard copy anyway and find a stamp and envelope and write an actual address: Ken Brown, Constituency Ward Support Officer, Perry Barr Constituency, Homes and Neighbourhoods, Perry Barr Constituency Office, Tamebridge House, Aldridge Road, Perry Barr, Birmingham B42 2TX - blimey! No wonder we prefer e-mail.
*** ***
Maria Margaronis' superb documentary programme drawing on a great range of sound archives broadcast on BBC Radio 4 last Saturday (available on BBC iPlayer until 7 April'12)...
...She asks if the spectre of Greece's unstable past is haunting its current nightmares. Culturally at Europe's heart, geographically at its edge, Greece has always been pulled and pushed by the contradictory needs of the big powers. Maria looks back through the turbulent 20th Century that saw Greece suffer multiple national schisms. Beginning with the 1922 crisis of defeat against Turkey and the subsequent mass refugee influx that swelled Greece's population by around a fifth. War brought Nazi occupation that would last from 1941 to 1944 and led to compromise, collaboration and resistance that brought terrible reprisals, the virtual extermination of Greece's ancient Jewish communities and destruction for many villages. Those years would lead directly to the enduring trauma of Civil War. The central event for Margaronis that divided and still divides Greek society and memory. It saw Greek's fighting their former British allies in the streets of Athens in December 1944 and led to atrocities on both Left and Right and finally wholesale repression and exile of the Left after their defeat. Silence and then dictatorship and Junta from 1967 to 1974 would continue to divide society. The return of democracy and the rise of the PASOK party led to a different sort of memory, the unquestioning heroization of the wartime resistance and the celebration of Left wing memory that obscured painful questions of what Greeks had done to Greeks. Entry into Europe was potentially both a celebration of progress and a safe haven for Greek identity. The recent financial crisis has made Greeks once again deeply divided about both Europe and their own history. The divisions remain and consciously or unconsciously, history is informing that debate. Producer: Mark Burman.
The programme is laced with memorable resonant phrases, not only from the mouths of those she interviews or extracts from the archives but her own thoughts - "history is dangerous" "like a piece of crumpled paper Greece is far larger than it looks on the map" "what burns, under the skin, is what we did to each other." I hope a permanent version of this broadcast will be available. I can imagine no better introduction to Modern Greek history, much of it still unwritable - especially in Greece where memory struggles to live - for the reasons so wisely explored here, different sounds smudging a single story, signposts loom out of the mist pointing in several directions or nowhere. We hear the Greek word for the phrase 'the killing of memory' - but I can't find it in my dictionary - it sounded like νεμοκτόνια, nemoxtonia, but I'm not sure. 'History', says the speaker 'is full of silences, some imposed, some chosen'...with 'no version of the past that most Greeks can agree on.' That history should be contested is a general and not unhealthy truth, but, says Margaronis "demons of the past are alive on the streets of Athens."

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Simon Baddeley