October 14 – The downfall of the donkeys

(A Lesvorian donkey)

Donkeys have never scored highly in the scientific world. Even though they have existed for thousands of years they have always been in the shadow of horses and only a few have become famous. Lots of people will not know his name, but the best known donkey is Nestor. He was the one who carried Maria to the stable of Bethlehem, where he and an ox patiently waited atthe manger. The most well known donkey in literature might be Eeyore, a friend of Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne).

A search for different donkey breeds worldwide came up with only 185. The problem is that there are only few people that keep the donkey species pure: they are working animals and the mostly poor owners have never given a shit with whom a donkey was bred. Germany and France do have a considerable list of fancy donkey breeds; Greece officially only has the Arcadian, the Ellinikon and the Cyprus ass. But most Greek donkeys are of mixed breeds.

Donkeys originate from Africa and slowly found their way up north. For centuries they were indispensable as a working animal, until in the modern world their functions were taken over by machines and cars. Only in very poor countries they remain a trusty ally to work with.

When in the Sixties the mass tourism to the South European countries started, donkeys with a flowery straw hat and big sunglasses on postcards became a big hit. Now donkeys as well as postcards have become a rare sight: their numbers decrease rapidly. In 1955 there were still 508,000 donkeys in Greece, in 2007 there were only about 15,000 (I do not know the numbers for postcards).

Ten years ago you could find most Greek donkeys on the Peloponnese, about 5000, the Aegean islands had about 1700. I have no idea how much donkeys now still roam Lesvos. You see them less and less on the roads and since Michaelis, the Donkey King of Molyvos died last year, you will no longer run into a donkey safari. Some donkeysare still used for the olive harvest in the mountains, or by an old farmer, who has no car or driving license, to go to his plot of land. Even the garbage in Molyvos nowadays is picked up by a horse, since the last garbage man collecting the garbage with his donkey died. 

However, there might be future hope for donkeys: donkey milk! In Ancient times this product was praised by Hippocrates and Pliny the Elder, being healthy, especially for people with a milk allergy. Also the beautiful Cleopatra loved donkeys: she bathed in donkey milk, just like Pauline Bonaparte (yes: the sister of Napoleon) to get rid of her wrinkles. Nowadays donkey milk has become popular in the cosmetic industry proving that Cleopatra and Pauline were not so mad: donkey milk seems to smooth wrinkles.

You would say that we should exchange all cows for donkeys, but a donkey can only give 0.5 to 1.3 liters of milk a day, and only for 6 to 7 months a year. So I am wondering if a donkey farm could be profitable.

Slowly slowly the world begins to take interest in the donkey: in 2000 Europe made a new law that all donkeys should be registered and given a passport. Countries with most of the pure breeddonkeys obeyed, but I wonder how many Greek donkeys have a passport. Just imagine an old farmer from Skoutaros going on his donkey all the way to the capital in order to validate the papers for his old donkey.

Also Greece is finally taking interest in the fate of donkeys: not long ago they passed a new law that forbids donkeys to transport more than 100 kilo's a ride. On Santorini donkeys are still used as working animals: daily they drag thousands of tourists some 400 meters up to the village. Now the not so thin tourists have to drag themselves up. Also on Hydra, where donkeys are the only mode of transport, scales are required.

Taking a scale with you during the olive harvest is no option, so the life of a donkey here on Lesvos will not change. Lesvorian donkeys will slowly become extinct and soon Lesvos might be an island without donkeys.

Maybe all those donkeys without a passport must feel happy that they are not allowed to travel: in China the product ejiaois in great demand: a jelly made from the skin of donkeys, used in the still very popular Traditional Chinese Medicine. For ejiao about 4 million donkeys a year are slaughtered. We all know that these Oriental medicine practices lead to the endangeringof many a wild animal like elephants, tigers and rhinoceros. Nowadays donkeys are also very much wanted in China. Let's hope that Chinese people will not start poaching donkeys here, to smuggle them to China through the ports along with other things they buy in Greece. That way the Greek donkeys will stand no chance at all. So never sell your donkey to a Chinese!

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2018

September 27 – Where have the olives gone?

(Olive trees)

September 27 – Where have the olives gone?

These days the Greeks mainly talk about the medicane, a rare hurricane on the mediterranean sea. Just a few days ago a big storm prevented the ferries from functioning and, in a few hours, blew the summer completely away, while temperatures dropped considerably. Combined with a warm sea this makes ideal circumstances for the birth of a storm -like a hurricane. 

Crete and the southern mainland (including Athens) got code red weather alarm, but also here in the north of Lesvos the wind keeps on blowing, contrary to the weather forecast. They also predicted rain that has not fallen. The island is longing for some water from the heavens, but except for a little local shower, all serious black clouds sailed across the island in search of the land of the sultan (where, for the last month, there was a lot going on in the sky). 

At least the storm blew all the almonds out of the tree, save me the trouble of batting the poor tree in order to get the nuts. Now I just have to collect them from the ground. However the rain for the olives will be too late, because most olive trees have already lost all their fruit. There are only a happy few that wave in the wind with branches filled with light green olives. Lesvos awaits another crisis: an olive crisis.

For centuries olives and olive oil provided the main income for Lesvos. Until the Ottoman Empire fell, there was lively international commerce in olive products, but since then the island is only an empire with small farmers, who manage thanks to the olives to survive the Greek crisis. Now they do not have one olive!

Most owners of olive fields I spoke say the source of the empty trees was the mediocre summer without a real heatwave and with some serious rainfall in July. Ideal weather for the dakos, a fruit fly that prefers to lay its eggs in the olives, this way killing the fruit. These insects had the time of their lives last summer, without being killed by high temperatures or without dying from thirst.

At least the island is not besieged by the olive pest Xylella fastidiosi, a bacteria causing great havoc in the olive grows of Italy and Spain. This bacteria comes with a spitting bug and prevents food and water from reaching the branches. Entire groves have been dug up because of this lethal illness. This pest-epidemic has not yet reached Greece. Which is lucky because the island has even more olive trees (12 million) than Greece has inhabitants (nearly 11 million). Imagine how the island would look without the green silvery trees. 

Although there will be not much to harvest this year, some people still have olive oil — last year having had such a good harvest — the price however was so low that lots of people did not sell their oil and kept them in their containers. Anyhow, the mayor of the island has already asked the government for compensation for the farmers who will see their income decline this winter due to the lack of olives. Likewise, there will be a minimal number of people hired to harvest those rare olives, a number that already decreased because of the crisis.

In Europe you can find several very old olive trees, some said to be thousands of years old, like The Olive Tree of Plato, in a field a bit out of Athens. According to the story this was one ofthe twelve direct ascendants of the first olive tree that the goddess Athena gave the capital. Plato settled his academy under this huge tree where he taught his pupils. Last century the tree was a kind of tourist attraction, until 1976 when a bus ran over it. Part of the large trunk was acquired by the agricultural academy of Athens. The lower trunk remained in the soil and even grew new roots. In 2000 when the price of heating oil was so high due to the crisis, many people took wood illegally, including the trunk of this famous trees, now disappeared into thin air.

Lesvos does not have such a famous tree, but some parts of the island have trees that certainly are hundreds of years, maybe even thousands of years, old and will have much to tell, if they could only talk. Lesvos without olive trees is unthinkable. It must have been a horrible sight when in 1850 most of the trees died during the Great Frost (when, in just a few hours, the temperature dropped below zero). The island overcame this disaster quickly by importing and planting many new trees.

However we can live with a Lesvos without olives for a year. The owners of the trees will have time to clean their olive fields: repairi walls and fences and dig over the surrounding land. A friend has even said that it is good for the trees to not have fruit for a year: this way they have a rest, which can only lead to a better harvest next year. But then they certainly don’t need the medicane raging over them. The hurricane (now called Xenophon*) seems to be heading towards Lesvosin the direction of Turkey, but hurricanes are impetuous and difficult to predict. So now we can just wait for this rare Mediterranean phenomenon.

*The hurricane now has become a cyclone called Zorbas)

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2018

September 14 - The small dependance of the Open Air Graffiti Museum of Vatera

(The Smoking and Drinking Octopus at Eftalou)

After the refreshing rain I took a walk along a little road that I hadn't been on for some time. Shimmering in the distance I saw an enormous red octopus. For a few seconds I thought I was hallucinating, because I have often passed the little old deserted military camp and there was nothing to be seen. But now on one of the buildings there was a huge fat red octopus with a cigarette and a glass in two of his hands.

The dilapidated hotel Sarlitza in Thermi, the ruined Hotel Arion at Molyvos, the nightclub at Skala Sykaminia and the never finished hotel in Vatera are icons in the Lesvorian landscape. Not such good ones, because they all are reminders of a tragic story.

I do not know the story of the night club at Skala Sykaminia. In the Sixties the Hotel Arion had been open to clients for one year and then the bank took it because of bills not being paid. Hotel Sarlitza was a Turkish spa hotel and I guess that after all Turks were thrown off the island in 1923, the hotel started to slowly die. Now the beauty of the building is being recognized and there are calls for it to be restored. Each year I read in the papers that the building will be put back to its glorious old state, but each year nothing happens. Then last week I saw a photograph of the garden being restored. But I wonder if we will ever see a time when the lights will be lit again in the Sarlitza.

Lesvos Palace has another tragic story, showing how the island ‘welcomes’ grand hotels. In the Seventies Aris Skafidas bought the land at the end of the long beach of Vatera and started building on this dream location. Sometime in the Eighties the 1000 bed hotel was nearly ready: missing was a proper road, that would cross the river (that is very full in winter) and link the hotel, some two kilometers away, to the main road. Building a road and a bridge is peanuts for someone who was once a friend of Onassis and had built plenty of buildings on the Greek mainland. But first the road needed a permit from the municipality. However, no license ever came and even when Skafides’ company offered to build the road and bridge no papers ever showed up. And again the same situation recently when a Swiss, German and Chinese consortium tried to lay hands on the buildings. Lesvos Palace has never opened. 

The only time the hotel has been used was during a music-graffiti festival, a few years ago in Vatera. Artists from all over the world created a tribute to Theophilos and painted great art on the naked walls of the spacious, empty lower floors. The artists also had a great time putting paint on the walls in the upper floors. I now call this hotel the Open Air Graffiti Museum of Vatera.

According to the organizers the festival was ready to take off another year. However they did not get renewed permission and the second event had to take place in Mytilini: not such a success - because the graffiti was spread all over the city. Now the festival has disappeared, but has left a great amount of beautiful wall paintings, which is better than the numerous modern Greek ruins we see, of which the most ugly is to be found at Gavathas. I do not know the story but I am amazed that somebody got the permission to squeeze a hotel complex between a few houses at the entrance of the beautiful village, buildings that – by accident? - resemble anotherlost building complex on the Petra boulevard, in the direction of Molyvos. 

I am honoured that now we see the legacy of the Vatera Graffiti Museum in Eftalou on a deserted military camp. Along with the smoking and drinking octopus in another little building there is a beautiful white horse lead by two doves, on its back a sleeping girl. On another shed there are two signatures. 

Graffiti has been used to communicate since ancient Egyptian, Greek and Roman times. In the Seventies when the punks stood up, graffiti became very popular and was recognized as art. I hope that graffiti artist soon will go to Gavathas to turn that ugly concrete building into lively art. These days there are messages enough to be distributed, even if it is to tell the municipality of Lesvos that they should reconsider their licensing policies around hotels, that could - or not? – bring more allure to the island. 

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

©Smitaki 2018

September 6 - Night fever at Eftalou

People cheering, people chanting

on a merry Greek evening

crickets chirping in the trees

the moon hiding in the dark

The song Night fever loudly

gliding over the hills

people celebrating and cheering

dancing the night away

the music echoing in the night

along with the crickets

while a string of lights

glitter far away on the Sultan's land

Dark are the hills and the sea

against a starlit sky

people sitting on the street

chatting the quiet night away

A war ship, his motor joining

the rhythm of the lapping tiny waves

as a black sphinx anchored in the sea

to wait and to watch

it's every day now on duty

running the motor all night long

fuming fuel like toxic clouds

guarding the island or the sea

Out of the endless blackness

settled over the seven hills

suddenly steps a group of people

good evening to you all

as if they stroll each night

along the paths of a Greek island

pushing a wheelchair with a women

wearing a decent scarf around the head

You realize where they came from

they slipped silently over the water

passing that noisy fuming sphinx

so big she clearly saw nothing

Escaping war and bombs

now quietly walking through a black night

along a dark seaside

as on a sunny afternoon

No people for them waiting

when they stranded alone and unseen

all ending dry and safe

the wheelchair still rolling

walking through the night

towards the night fever song

towards the lucky people

not born amongst the bombs

I wonder if they know

about the next hell to come

a camp totally forgotten

with far more people than it should

too tight is the space for living

for enemies and friends alike

too small for decent people

to deal with what they have lived

A beautiful night in Eftalou

a safe heaven for tourists and alike

night fever all over the place

a Greek night in peace

They call it also Europe

but Europe is not here

Europe still chooses to ignore

what fever takes the Greek night

Well, it does not make a noise

the people silently walking

towards their destiny

the wheelchair rolling on

They come by sea daily

they are thrown into the camp

an island prison in Europe

with no night fever in sight

I wonder how you dare

a woman amongst men

how terrible life must have been

to take your wheelchair and run

Welcome, Lady on the Wheels

and all your travelers that night

Europe will not be found

but I wish you well and sound

I did not see you well

but I will remember you, mylady

rolling into safety

in the night fever night

August 19 – Writers' paradise

(Photo: internet. Marc Chagall - L'echo; lithograph for Daphnis and Chloe)

With majestic grand pianos, whining violins, some brass instrumentsand otherinstruments that make up an orchestra, some international musicians have for four days tried to reach out to the stars. The 4th Molyvos International Music Festival, whose main program was played out in the medieval castle above Molyvos, has again moved hundreds of people. 

There has always been music on Lesvos, but mainly folk. Or it is the wind, descending from the mountains, rushing over the treetops, looking for other murmuring instruments. Lesvos does not have a tradition of classical music. The island has produced more writers than musical stars.

Terpandros lived in the seventh century BC. He was born in Andissa, not far from the place where the head of Orpheus along with his lyre washed ashore. That might have been what inspired Terpandros to go into music. Other sources say that he was summoned to write music by the Oracle of Delphi. He added some strings to the lyre, changed some things in the traditional rhythm of the songs and thus he became famous for drinking and party songs. 

Around the same time there was Arion. Born and brought up in Molyvos, he became a successful and beloved singer and zhiter player at the court of Corinth. One day, sailing back to the court after a round of performances, the sailors stole all the money he earned and wanted to throw him in the sea. He begged to sing one last song, which was a song in praise of Apollo. The Gods listened and when he was thrown into the waves a dolphin saved him and brought him to land. Coming back to the court, the king did not believe Arion, but when the sailors returned, telling the king that they 'lost' Arion, the king realized Arion had told the truth and he richly compensated him for his misfortune.

Tambouri Ali Efendi was born in 1836 and raised in Mytilini, in those times still part of the Ottoman Empire. When he became 18 he went to Istanbul, to expand his musical gift as a tamboura player and became one of the best of Turkey. The tamboura is a Turkish string instrument, the resonance box as big as a water mellon, with a long neck and two strings. A famous pupil of Ali Efendi was Tambouri Cemil Bey, who became the greatest composer of Ottoman classic music.

Lesvos did not progress any further in the history of classical music, until now with the Molyvos International Music Festival. The island instead has a rich history in literature, starting with Sappho, whose poems are translated and known all over the world

The island is the cradle of a Novel Prize winner: Odysseas Elytis, who received this prize in 1979. Although born in 1911 in Crete, both his parents came from wealthy families on Lesvos. The airport at Mytilini is named after him.Elytis' poetry might be a challenge for novel readers. They might enjoy better the books of Stratis Myrivilis, who was born in 1890 in Sykaminia(he died in Athens in 1969). Myrivilis fought in the Balkan war (1912-1913), that inspired him to write his most famous book: Life in a tomb. Later he wrote two socially inspired novels, both situated on Lesvos: The Mermaid Madonna, about refugees from Turkey in Skykaminia and a foundling who grows up into a more than beautiful girl. The other novel, The School Mistress with the Golden Eyesis about a teacher in Molyvos, the harsh traditions and village gossip. Even though those entertaining books were written about half a century ago, their topics are still relevant: refugees and gossip. 

Another lovely book situated on Lesvos, but with no actual topics, is considered as the first pastorale novel in literary history: Daphnis and Chloe, a touching Greek Romeo and Julia, played out in the times that Mythimna (Molyvos) and Mytilini were at war with each other. Marc Chagall made colourful lithographs for this lovestory.

Molyvos is said to be a paradise for writers. Lots of them are inspired by the medieval little city, like William Golding, who stayed for a bit on the island and seeing children play, got his idea for his famous novel Lord of the flies. Fingers are still dancing over the keyboards to write stories, inspired by village life or the magic spell. You may even find courses given by prominent writers such as the South African Rahla Xenopoulos, also from South AfricanMarita van derVyver and the Canadian writer and excellent teacher of creative writing David Layton. (see: The Talking Table.)

Now that the music has died down in the castle, it is time to start writing again. Since Myrivilis' sad story about the teacher, in the narrow streets the tongues have not stopped gossiping. And the island has been caught in the refugee crisis, where not only terrifying stories are heard, but also strong moving ones about people reaching out to help. The island remains a bubbling source of inspiring stories.

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

©Smitaki 2018 

A small, devilish plant

(Tribulus terrestris)

My garden is beset with problems. They grow in the midst of the summer and the disaster spreads pretty fast. It is like a herd of constantly growing pushpins. The only defence is to wear proper shoes. Worn-out flipflops just don’t do and even in your house you are no longer safe.

The summer has many advantages, but the Devils thorn is a returning plague, — worse than mosquitos or wasps. I am talking about a stupid little plant, with teeny-tiny yellow flowers and strong thorny fruit that you will only notice when it sticks into your foot or flipflop.

Tribulus terrestris is the latin name of Devil’s thorn. The Greek name, τρίβολος, has something to do with water chestnuts, according to Theophrastus. But maybe he mixed up two plants: that is for the scientists studying the Old Greek language to figure out. The translation of its Latin name is more to the point: ‘problem on the ground’ and that is what I have. 

The little branches with long leaves at both sides are rampant within the grass and other surviving weeds, as well as on and along the sandy paths. The alarm bell tolls when the little yellow flowers appear. Within a week the fruit with 2 to 5 razor sharp thorns is ready to fall. They vaguely look like a bull or goat’s head — reason for more names: Bullhead or Goat's head. A field with Goat’s head is the same as a bed of nails: you do not want to venture into it. 

Its now the time that you hungrily reach for the figs that hang, ripe and sweet, in the trees. Also this year the grapes are early and their juicy ripeness seduces you to pick them. They are the-end-of-the-summer fruit that comforts you because this warm season has had its best days. But here in the garden they look more like forbidden fruit: to reach the fig tree you have to pass a Devil’s thorn field, so as soon as you reach out for a fig it is: Ouch, a needle in your foot!

No need to pick the fruit of the Bullhead. They roll or propell themselves toward you. They stick onto shoes and feet and this way they also invade your house. Riding a bike or walking bare foot is not done anymore; it's best to avoid a punctured tyre or holes in you feet, but especially the merciless pain. They even can cause a real plague. In a town in Oregon, America, you can earn a dollar when you deliver a garbage bag stuffed with Tribulus terrestris. I can send them a shipload. 

However there are also people who gather this prickly fruit for the herbal industry. Surely they use machines? With a big aspirator to collect those devilishly thorny things? I’d like such a machine sent over to the field here. Because this herb is worth its weight in gold: those stinging seed-boxes can be ground into a blessing aphrodisiac, proven by more than one scientist. They should plant plenty of these herbs in China and Vietnam: there people are so desperate that they pay fortunes for elephants’ tusks and rhinoceros’ horns that may improve their libido. This way those animals would not have to become extinct and people would pay far less money for their pleasure. 

In the grapevines it also is said that the herb increases testosteronelevels. Athletes and other people pimp their bodies to deliver better performances. For this reason this nasty prickly herb is now popular amongst sports people. Obviously, as a powder or a drink; I don’t think those agitated people would like to have a bed of nails in their garden.

The thorny fruit has more positive medical uses. In the ayurveda for example it is called the ‘Cow’s hoof’ and is used for the wellbeing of kidneys, bladder and urinary tract. In Kashmir they believe that ‘Cow’s hoof’may slow down fevers.

Maybe I should seriously consider turning this misery into something positive and start to collect this nasty herb. When I walk over an area rich in Bull’s heads - after just few steps there are already hundreds of Goat’s head stuck to my thick-soles shoes. Who wants to buy them?

(with thanks to Mary Staples)

© Smitaki 2018