We didn’t even have to write anyone’s name. All we had to do was to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ which in itself made no difference, as it came out ‘Yes’ anyway. The major rivalry of that campaign was between the mayors of Athens and Piraeus as to who could construct a bigger ΝΑΙ on the slopes of Kastella and Lykavittos.
In spite of the huge number of ‘yes’ ballots printed, they were enormously outnumbered by the ‘yes’ leaflets. Fourteen million were scattered over the country mostly by airplane — in the Greece of Christian Greeks it is hardly surprising that all the angels voted ‘yes’. These leaflets are still turning up in the rose bushes of the ‘garden cities’ around Athens.
It is interesting to note that the 1,700,000 posters printed for that ‘campaign’ cost two million drachmas, while glueing them up cost four and a half. Since most of these were devoted to the President of the Democracy of Substance, it is another proof that no matter how big he got, he could never stick…
Galloping Poll
THERE IS a nasty rumour circulating that Gallup has come to Greece and that his representatives are busy canvassing the country, pressing questions on innocent citizens in the hope of predicting the outcome of the forthcoming election. When we heard this we decided it was time for our own unofficial poll.
Down we went once again to Zonar’s to find Kyrios Stelios but he turned us hands down and declared that how he would vote was none of our business. Glancing up and down Panepistimiou Street to make sure there were no policemen in sight, he suggested we take off quickly before we got him and ourselves into trouble.
We refused to be daunted and hopped a bus over to Platia Amerikis where we knew we would find Kyrios Stefanos who has uncensored opinions on all subjects. Sure enough he rose to the occasion. First he treated us to a long dissertation on the follies of today’s youth, explained that he is a committed fascist, and then unblinkingly announced that he would vote for Andreas Papandreou because he is ‘strong’ — like Papadopoulos. We stumbled along behind him through his labyrinthian reasoning for several minutes but finally gave up in despair and took ourselves off to our friend the Patrician Lawyer.
We found him deep in thought in his office. ‘Who are you planning to vote for?’ we asked. Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, Ί shall decide when I have made up my mind which party I’m running with.’ Remembering that we vote in his constituency he reminded us that he would expect our support. We countered by asking if he would guarantee that our son gets into the university. As he began to phrase his promise, we hastily took our leave before he remembered that we do not have any children.
Back home for a break we turned to Maria, our maid from Kastoria. ‘Who will you vote for Maria?’ She explained very carefully that out of respect for her late father she and her sister would vote as he always had. Unfortunately they were not sure how he had voted but they had written home to find out. She had no plans to run herself, however.
We next made a phone call down to our friend Yiorgos in the Morea. After explaining that women are inferior and that his wife would do precisely what he told her, he declared that he was confident Papadopoulos would put together a party before election date and that he would vote for him. Having heard that morning over the BBC that Papadopoulos had just been placed under arrest we signed off hastily and phoned another friend in Salonika.
Our call was transferred to a small town in some remote mountain area where the local operator told us to hang on while she found ton Kyrion Voulefti (Mr. Deputy). Our friend got on the phone and explained in whispered English that he is running on the Karamanlis ticket but he would be voting PASOK because he is a socialist. Why was he running on Karamanlis’s ticket? Because he was a cinch to win: it was his father’s old seat and the entire area always voted solidly for Karamanlis. We weighed making another phone call to Crete but after a moment’s thought decided to leave the job to Gallup after all.
Advice to Candidates
MS. HARA KIOSSE, a contributor to Ta Nea, recently cast some pearls of wisdom on the pages of that newspaper which we loosely translate here for the benefit of our readers:
Now that we are in the middle of the election, and are determined to enjoy the remainder of it, we wish to give our politicians a word of advice.
After so many years of inactivity, we have begun to look back to the years before the junta with a nostalgia somewhat out of keeping with reality. The fact remains that our politicians did have weaknesses as well as virtues, and we have not forgotten either. So, democracy being by its nature a criticism and a dialogue, it might be a good idea to remind our statesmen of some of these weaknesses.
It is impossible for you all to say that you are progressive and socialist. Some of you have to remain conservative. Though the world has shown progressive tendencies in the last seven years, our democracy has plenty of space for Left and Right. Ignoring the Right just because it is unfashionable can only confuse the conservative voter.
Don’t slyly slip in old photographs among your new ideas. We are a small country. We all know each other, and we all know very well how old you are. You are ten years older than you were at the last election’— just like the rest of us. Furthermore, if we wanted students in the new parliament, we could easily find some.
Don’t dye your hair. It doesn’t come out well in photographs. Besides, women not only can detect it, they prefer statesmen with greying sideburns.
Stop the old koumbaros business. Spending most of your time baptising and marrying people is a public admission that you are buying votes. We are sick of rousfeti.
For the same reason don’t attend every funeral and memorial service. We have been in political mourning long enough. Forward-looking political programmes are more impressive than elaborate eulogies. Furthermore, in this election (unlike others we’ve had) the dead are not going to vote.
Don’t press yourself up close to celebrities to get your picture taken. It just emphasizes how unknown you are.
Don’t speak in the first person, much as we like your personality and admire your individualism. The fact is that for seven years we have been forced to listen to the personal impressions of military men and would be refreshed by some objective talking.
Lastly: Don’t give us any song-and-dance about your heroic acts of resistence. We already know who resisted and who didn’t, and we won’t hold it against you if you did nothing. Neither did most of us. Right now we need people with political ability, and let’s hope we do not need resistance groups again.
Despina Papadopoulou, CIA or The First Lady of Peinirli.
UP IN DROSSIA, that hotbed of peinirli, there is an attractive taverna from which hangs a sign reading: ‘The Nest — Despina Papadopoulou and Company’. A nest is depicted at the centre of this sign in which several chicks engagingly reach up to peck at a luscious worm dangling from the beak of their mother. One cannot imagine a more cheerful and carefree place, but in fact things are not quite as they seem, as is so often the case in Greece.
In the .first place ‘madame la patronne’ shares a name with a lady of greater fame, and secondly ‘company’ in Greek, syndrofia, is shortened on the sign — as is usual — to ‘Sia’, which happens, in Greek, to share its name with the United States Central Intelligence Agency.
Although Mme. Papadopoulou has been in the restaurant business for thirty years, the last seven have given her nothing but trouble. For most of them she was harassed by sympathisers of the junta, who either congregated at her establishment in the hope of contacting fellow agents or because they imagined her to be engaged in satirical anti-social activities. Even her robin’s nest was suspected of being a parody of the Immortal Phoenix rising from its Revitalizing Flames.
With the restoration of democracy things, if anything, grew worse. Not only was she suspected of being pro-junta, but her C.I.A. (that is, her partners who happen to be her brother and her sister-in-law) were thought to be her accomplices. Even the Turkish origins of peinirli did not pass unnoticed. In the unlikelihood of Dr. Kissinger’s passing through Drossia to solve her problems, we recommend that she rename her specialty Byzantine Pizza.
Meanwhile at the nest of the other Despina Papadopoulou, former First Lady of Neo Psychiko, things aren’t going well either. Indeed, there is nothing sadder than an empty home. Neo Berchtesgaden, as it is locally called after Hitler’s famous Bavarian chalet, lies a thousand metres up on the pine-clad slopes of Mount Parnes.
Such loving effort has gone into this delightful hide-a-way! Built on seven hundred and fifty stremmata re-quisitioned by the Ministry of Agriculture from forest preserve, this recreational villa was designed by architects doing their military service and constructed by army contractors and soldiers, thus saving the country a good deal of money. OTE and DEI generously brought in utilities free. Luxuriously furnished and decorated by Sandis, it is, we hear from those who have been so fortunate to visit it, absolutely ‘dernier-cri’ with much emphasis on ‘boiserie’ and the most fashionable ‘style rustique’ — indeed all in all in that faultless taste we grew accustomed to from Our Former First Lady.
Not only is the villa empty, but so are the many observation posts, the four dormitories made to house a staff of one hundred and twenty guards, the telecommunication centre, the elaborate garage meant not only to house but fully service the family limousines, and the helicopter port equipped with the most up-to-the minute equipment.
In the new democracy it is difficult to say what should be done with Unwanted Stately Homes. A museum along the lines of the Victoria & Albert is an idea. It might be called the Despina & George and feature the pens with which the latter signed various constitutions and it should certainly include a collection of the shoes and hats for which Despina was so famous.
Let Freedom Sing!
THEATRES, movie-houses and cafes all over town complained on the evenings of October 11 and 12 that they had very little business. Little wonder! These were the evenings of the two Theodorakis concerts at the Karaiskakis Stadium.
At 2 p.m. on the 11th the stadium was already half-full. By the time the concert began the audience had grown to between 45 and 50,000. The next night the stadium was just as full. The enthusiasm was enormous, but perhaps more surprising was the self-control of the audience — in spite of a deliberate provocation: it was revealed that some of the wiring of the microphones had been cut.
Although youth predominated, there were many middle-aged and old. It was also a unique gathering of the popular and the famous. Andonis Kaloyannis, Maria Farandouri, Manolis Mitsias, among many others, performed. Ritsos read poetry, Mangakis sang, Iliou and Pezmazoglou were present.
The purpose of the concert was to raise money for the sake of Cyprus but it was above all a celebration of freedom.
Freedom, yes — but not riotous or unbridled. This was not only true of the Theodorakis concerts but of the various demonstrations that have taken place in Athens recently. As public acts they have shown responsibility, organization and discipline. Let us hope that this is their significance for the future.
