Even Greeks who have been arbitrarily stripped of their citizenship for political reasons have been known to spend years getting their rights restored. But if you happen to be an Argentinian football player who happens to have caught the eye of a Greek shipowner who, in turn, happens to be the president of a leading local football team, you can become Greek as quickly as it takes to issue papers declaring that your parents were born in Aigaleo even if they have never set foot in Greece, Such appears to be the case of Juan Roman Rocha, a player for the Panathinaikos team, who has earned that most Greek-savoring name, Boublis.
Although professional Greek football teams can employ as many foreigners as they like, in championship matches only two per team are allowed to participate. As Panathinaikos already had two with whom it did not wish to part, it was necessary to supply Boublis with papers proving Hellenic descent. As the 1981-2 season reached the rabid stage of the semi-finals for the Greek Cup, with Panathinaikos at the head of the pack, an apple of discord was lacked onto the desk of the Undersecretary of Athletic Affairs, George Katsifaras, when a rival team challenged the claim that Boublis was Greek. After much fuss, the matter was brought before the court which arbitrates athletic disputes. Early in April, the court declared that Boublis’ papers contained irregularities, that the management of Panathinaikos had acted with deliberate duplicity, and that the team stood to be docked enough points to prevent it from winning the championship, and be eliminated as a contender for the cup.
The reaction to the court’s decision was in keeping with the fiery spirit of Panathinaikos fans, who rank with Leonidas’ Three Hundred for their close-to-suicidal esprit de corps. On April 4, hundreds gathered in protest before Parliament and burned a portrait of Katsifaras at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Then the crowd ran amok. Throwing rocks through the windows of the Hotel Grande Bretagne, setting off molotov cocktails in Zonar’s and Floca’s, they cut a swath of destruction through central Athens to Omonia Square where the mob was finally dispersed by the police, who made a number of arrests.
Meanwhile, Panathinaikos appealed its case to the Supreme Council and late in April, the higher decision was still pending. Although some people regretted that such a passionate display of protest was not directed towards a more significant issue, like nuclear weapons limitations or air pollution, and others suggested that Boublis be sent back to Argentina, or even to the Falkland Islands, for the majority, Boublis, basking in the glare of publicity, had taken on the stature of a hero whose cult, at least, was one hundred percent Greek.
The “Saint” of Aigaleo
The only out-of-the-ordinary religious news that occurred at Easter time this year was a sudden, State-ordered investigative swoop just before Holy Week on a foundation called Panagia Faneromeni (The Virgin Manifest) which is situated in a rural location not far from Athens. It is not the first time that the institution and its founder have been made into a center of controversy. Whatever the church may think of this foundation, the career of “Saint Athanasia’Of Aigaleo, as she is often called, has always been a popular subject for those who like to believe that a conspiracy exists between religious foundations and high-powered, right-wing interests.
Of the “Saint” of Aigaleo there can’t be much said without arousing preconceived prejudices. Athanasia Kriketou was born forty-three years ago in a remote village in the Peloponnesus. This illiterate shepherd girl, it is said, at the age of twelve had her first vision of the Virgin who impressed her initials upon her breast. Unschooled and ignorant, she came to Athens as a young girl, married, settled in the poor, working-class suburb of Aigaleo, was widowed, and became increasingly famous as a faith healer.
Or, if you prefer, she’s a fraud who goes about in a Mercedes donated by some secret benefactor ripping off the elderly and the hopelessly ill by giving them a home and care in exchange for their property. It is true that the foundation flourished at the time of the junta, that it was looked upon favorably by figures in high places and that a broad, paved road was constructed from the village of Mandra out to the institution which was paid for by — well, nobody really knows who paid for it, but there are always some people who insist it was the military regime.
The state investigation of the premises was carried out swiftly and without warning on the morning of April 9, presumably as a result of some “tip” that there were irregularities to be looked into. The investigating team consisted of doctors, coroners, psychologists and court officials, accompanied by two journalists who, by chance, had already prepared a two-part television program on the institution, one of which had already been presented to the public a week earlier.
The first thing that impressed the investigators was the immaculate condition of the institution, which was understandable, given the usual state of similar establishments in this country which is, to say the least, untidy. Secondly, there was the unmistakable devotion of the two hundred gray-clad girls who nurse the aged and ailing without any remuneration whatever. The doctors did, however, notice a general lack of medicine without considering, perhaps, that the premiss of the institution is healing by faith.
Under cross-examination, the “Saint” herself was described as nervous in behavior and vague in speech. On being closely questioned about her “powers”, she denied having any but those that came from outside herself. She was, however, quoted as saying, “The Virgin does not like to answer crafty questions.” The investigation concluded, the officials were dismissed with the words, “I forgive you all”.
As a result of the investigation, the tabloids blared out that the “Saint” had been unmasked and that even the Virgin could not offer her protection now. The following week passed, however, during which the Passion, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection were all celebrated with appropriate solemnity and joy, and still another week passed, during which no formal charges were pressed upon the “Saint” of Aigaleo.
