Can you think of a worse start to your week? – a dull, rainy
Monday morning (what my mum called a ‘dirty, wet day’) and, with the farmers’ tractors blocking arterial roads country-wide, you have no
guarantee you will reach your destination.
In vast fields from a distance some of them can look like
Dinky Toys. I loved this cute, little red one parked between two great green monsters. Linguistic observation: did you know that
‘tractor’ comes from the Latin verb, trahere
to draw or drag, dragging as they do behind them implements?
I have great sympathy for farmers. In Zissis’ home area,
Evros, the once major crop of high quality garlic is no longer cultivated on a
large commercial scale. Greek merchants sold out to, or rather bought in from,
cheaper Turkish and Chinese markets, dealing a death-blow to the livelihoods of
local suppliers.
Every one of us is suffering to some extent from the
austerity measures. So , yes, we sympathise, but the farmers have made
their point. Their antics are disrupting the smooth flow of essential supplies
and deliveries, adversely affecting business concerns already struggling with
capital controls and a shrinking market. After nearly 40 days of this, It’s time to break the blocks and literally move
on.
One further pressing problem here is that of the migrant/refugee influx. In the
background of this TV screen, you can see tents set up to afford them some
degree of refuge; you can see the newscasters wear expressions of concern as
they outline the current conditions. Our Mr Mao also seemed to show
unprecedented interest in the solemnity of the situation.
And it is no joke. Today a reporter announced that between
20,000 and 30,000 people of such status are currently in Greece. Our country
simply cannot cope with this turbulent sea of humanity, arriving daily in their
thousands in a quest for a better life.
What is curious and
concerning is that they come with a very
clear idea of where they want to go and how, ignoring the local efforts to ease
their route. In Athens they refuse to sleep in camps set up for them. Fearing
they will be locked up or sent back, they sleep rough in squares with no
facilities and sometimes in harsh weather conditions.
Here in Diavata, just outside Thessaloniki, in
the face of great local resistance, local authorities converted a disused
military facility to be used as a refugee reception camp. Where previously
locals had broken into the camp to prevent the work from taking place,
ironically, shortly after arriving there, the refugees themselves mirrored
those actions by breaking out of the camp. Similar exits were made at
the Schisto camp near Athens. Many are
now refusing even to travel in the coaches offered them, preferring to continue
this relentless trek north to the Idomeni
crossing-point into FYROM and
beyond to Northern Europe. Now that these borders have been closed – allegedly
at the behest of one of our European ‘partners’ – there are currently over 3,000 stranded souls there with thousands following that same route on foot. These
are hot spots ready to conflagrate.
Europe has to take a consolidated stand and rapidly find a humane solution to their
plight. Many of these people are without any real hope for their future. If we
don’t cater for their needs in some acceptable way, (and I know that’s the hard
question: how?) this tsunami of the
helpless and the needy can easily be turned against the western world in
its entirety. Malevolent forces are already committed, motivated and powerful
enough to set such a strategy in motion and to use these hapless people as
pawns in their evil game. How we deal with this now may have momentous repercussions.
Topic change required!
Our prunus is always the first to produce its bright blossom
to lift our spirits. Or how about this vibrant bouquet of irises?
Yet there is little to match the unassuming daffodil as one of nature’s marvels. She pokes her
sturdy stem through rock-solid soil, then displays her delicate bloom which
manages to withstand the strongest of spring storms.
Last year I made an
elementary attempt at capturing their beauty in water colour. This year,
unfortunately, tendonitis – after over-vigorous work in home and garden –
prevents me from making the clearly necessary attempt to improve on that!
So instead of the artistic mode, I’ll
access the verbal, literary mode.
In his
opening stanza of ‘To Daffodils’, Robert
Herrick regrets their withering:
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
And compares
their brief time on earth with our short lives.
But for a more upbeat tone and a delightful
daffodil appreciation, there is none better than William Wordsworth’s (
1770-1850) lyric poem, ‘Daffodils’.
Let’s enjoy it together:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and
hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the
breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly
dance.
The waves beside them danced; but
they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had
brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure
fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
I leave you
with a visual image: a display of golden splendour in our garden.
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