‘The
moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden
wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of
the trees.’
This is the first
verse of Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem The
Moon. This was one of the first poems I ever learned by heart, encouraged
by my much-loved primary school teacher, Miss Ferguson. Mind you, there were nights when sleep evaded
me as I worried about robbers coming into our garden!
The poem came to mind the other day as I listened to the
public reaction related to ‘gift giving’.
Euphemism is clearly at play here for the reference is to fakelakia, small envelopes, containing
bribe money and passed on to someone to procure his ‘good offices’. This was in the context of a proposal for
discussion in the Greek parliament, claiming that this method may not be
unlawful since ‘the mere material inducements of no monetary value do not
constitute bribery, but an expression of gratitude.’
That this proposal came from a member of the government, that
has pledged to eliminate bribery, scourge of our system, beggars belief. Fortunately,
good sense prevailed and the proposal was rejected. So far, so minor, I hear
you say, but the whole topic of bribery is one worthy of focus. Here for me it
is the term ‘inducements’ that intrigues
- both in the sense of engaging my interest and in the sense of implying
underhand scheming! How can any MP have
the gall to spend time producing such documents instead of actively moving to
eradicate corruption from the civil service system?
We still hear of people in dire need of immediate attention,
being left unattended in the corridors of state hospitals. Medical services
were immediately ‘resumed’ once palms were crossed with currency. The pragmatic
sense of ‘inducements’ in such cases is that some public employees would not
operate without payment. My trusted Chambers dictionary says the meaning ‘to
steal’ is obsolete for the verb ‘to bribe’. I see the expectation of a fakelaki as theft on so many counts, as
well as an expression of loss of personal integrity, leading to loss of faith in
public services.
And this practice has been deeply engrained long-term. When I
first came to work in Greece in the late 70’s, I was informed my rail-freighted
luggage had arrived, was asked to identify it, but was not allowed to take
receipt of it. The railway employee explained this was because it was Friday
midday and it would take him too long to process before the office closed. How
could I have known then that a ‘backhander’ would have magically expedited this
process?
And all this, it must
be said, was in the context of a Greece that was virtually crime-free. Theft
was so rare that my boss left my hand-luggage unlocked in his car boot on a
main street; in response to my queries about the wisdom of leaving it there, he
said, ‘Relax – you are in Greece now! No one will steal anything.’ And so it
was. Houses in villages remained unlocked all day, usually all night too. Some
doors had no locks at all.
Well we can’t go back
to the past. Nor by any means have all public employees succumbed to such
practices. But it is heartening to see
the new generation of civil servants, with different perspectives and
expectations, dignifying their posts and their clients. And there is evidence
of this happening on a broad front. Through them we can see green shoots of the
state infrastructure of tomorrow. Let us hope that old habits and die-hards are
phased out quickly and we can see flourish the brave new system that Greece and
the Greeks really deserve.
My topic of theft
continues, but moves from institutionalised to horticultural! In the first picture
it’s almost impossible to see our fruit filcher, our nut nabber, our
bird-burglar. So our thief is not on the garden wall, nor is he quietly asleep
in the forks of the tree. Picture two, thanks to the marvels of digital
technology, catches him red-beaked, pilfering the almonds, which are still
nicely soft-centred. He’s one of several rose-ringed or ring-necked parakeets
that survive in the wild locally. Originally an Afro-Asian breed, they have feathers
of beautiful hue – this one cunningly blending with the fresh green foliage. You may wonder why this one has no rose or
black neck-ring. That’s because our visitor was the more modest, plain-plumaged
female. We’ll allow her a few visits, but we are also looking forward to
harvesting some almonds for ourselves to make kurma, strudel and frangipane sweets.
Continuing the tree theme ….did you identify the one shown in
my last posting? It was, in fact, the diospyros
kaki or persimmon. Native to
tropical regions, it is relatively hardy and heat-tolerant and in the Katerini
region, tempered by the sea and protected by the mountains, these trees thrive.
The closely related diospyros
lotus or date plum is said to be
what made Odysseus’ men reluctant to return home after the Trojan War. Borne
off course in stormy weather, they landed in an area of N. Africa inhabited by
the Lotophagi, the Lotus eaters. The
fruit was said to be so delicious - and to possess narcotic qualities - that Odysseus had to forcibly remove them to
get them back on course.
I cannot vouch for the veracity of the tale but I can claim
to being a lotus-eater! The unripe fruit is unappealing with a texture that
wants to absorb all your saliva – which I suppose makes it a sort of
fruit-sponge! It ripens, however, into a deliciously sweet, rich-amber jelly. I
collected some lotus fruit from a local garden where they were just left to
fall and rot. I unearthed an old recipe for cookies which I spiced up a little.
Our next-field neighbours enjoyed them so much, they returned from a Katerini
trip with no fewer than three crates full of them. So I learned to deal with
with lotsa lotus : simply clean out the fruit, process the pulp and pop into
freezer bags in cookie-batch quantities.
Here is my recipe……..
Ingredients
200 gr white sugar, 100
gr butter/ margarine, 1 egg, 250 gr plain flour, pulp of 3 or 4 pieces of fruit ,
300 gr sultanas, half teaspoon of salt, half teaspoon of
baking soda, generous dusting of both cinnamon
and nutmeg to taste. ( Makes at least 20 cookies, depending on
dollop size!)
Method
- Preheat the oven to 180oC . Lightly grease a large baking sheet.
- Cream sugar and butter/marge. together until light and fluffy. Gradually add and beat in egg. Stir in flour, b. soda, salt and spices. Finally mix in the lotus pulp and sultanas.
- Drop spoonfuls of the mix onto the baking sheet – they will spread out a little so leave space between each dollop. Bake for about 15 minutes or until they brown and spring back to the touch. Allow to cool on the tray for a little before transferring to a cooling rack.
…..and here are my cookies :
Persimmon puddings used to feature in mediaeval banquets.
There is something deliciously decadent about the lotus in whatever form. If
you do come across it, I recommend you try the cookies.
Make sure the fruit is ripe and you, too, can become a
confirmed lotus-eater!
