Come the revolution: A freedom fighter leads marchers in national costume
THERE was a real sense of something big about to happen in Kalamata on Friday, March 23. As we walked towards the square in the historic centre of the city we kept being overtaken by kids tripping along in national costume (the white flouncy skirt and black pom-pom shoes) and young men in the same, but with antique pistols stuck into their belts.
In a kafeneion near the square, members of a brass band, in bright red jackets, were drinking tiny cups of Greek coffee, watching a dramatic line-up of priests, including Kalamata’s ample Bishop Chrisostomos, walking down the road from the city cathedral.
Men in black: Bishop Chrisostomos with priests from Kalamata’s cathedral
Not long after this, the festivities really kicked off for this annual event, which recognises the fact that the seven-year War of Independence against the Turks in 1821 really began in Kalamata, when local freedom fighters (part of the clans of the southern Peloponnese) liberated the city from the Turks, thus sparking the war. Although the rest of the country has its Independence Day on March 25, Kalamata still celebrates its original day of victory.
This was our first taste of the March 23 celebration in Kalamata. We expected a procession, dancing and flag-waving, but as we lined up on the pavement with the crowds, including our Kalamatan friend Babis and his lovely daughter Angeliki (who come to the celebration every year), it was clear there was a greater spectacle brewing.
Local hero: A Kalamatan man plays the role of war legend Theodoros Kolokotronis
There was a hush among the crowd seconds before a cavalcade appeared at the top of the road, in front of the cathedral, and cantered down towards the square – men on horseback, huge ghosts from the past. Leading them was Theodoros Kolokotronis (who led the army assault against the Turks in 1821), then Petrobey Mavromichalis, Mourzinos Troupakis, and assorted other freedom fighters, all in the traditional white skirt, waist coat, a clutch of pistols stuck in their belts. There was a ripple of applause as they passed.
After them came waves of marchers in national costume and school kids in uniform. Okay, locals have seen this display many, many times before but the excitement and awe seemed heartfelt all the same. And the guys who were dressed as the three historic freedom fighters are famous in Kalamata, and much loved by the crowds.
Our neighbour Kostas, who grew up in Kalamata, says the local guy who takes the role of Kolokotronis, wearing his distinctive red helmet, has been playing this hero every year without fail since Kostas was a boy (which is a little while ago), and there’s no signs of him reining back yet.
Girls aloud: Youngsters block their ears as canons are fired. Above: Other scenes from the parade
The celebration had special meaning this year with Greece having negotiated another EU loan to shore up its economy. The speeches by local dignitaries and the bishop were upbeat and dovetailed nicely with the spirited re-enactment in the square of the original March battle complete with sound effects – battle charge, blunderbuss and canon fire, and decibels pumped to the max.
Austerity measures be damned! There is no chance that Greece will ever cut back on these occasions, no matter what the EU bean counters say. The country that has survived earthquakes, wars, occupations and a military junta, isn’t too worried about cheque accounts that don’t quite balance.
Bird on a wire: This small brown owl has become a frequent visitor to our garden
Hootin’ in the Mani
FINALLY after the coldest winter since 1918 – or so our favourite Kalamatan waiter, Adonis (from the Argo at the marina) tells us – we have sun in abundance. The olive groves and mountain tracks are sprinkled with purple and red poppies, jonquils, freesias, daisies and lavender. And more importantly, the hot chilli peppers we planted last year are growing again.
For a few weeks recently we have had a regular visitor in the form of a small brown owl who comes and sits on the power lines near our front balcony just as the sun is slipping down behind the Messinian peninsula opposite, and whom we managed to snap a (slightly grainy) picture of.
On one of his latest visits he brought along his mate, probably to check out the antics of the small crazy white dog, jumping up and down on the balcony, barking. The fact they were not fazed in the least by Wallace’s daft antics says a lot for the composure of this tough little Greek owl.
Hot turkeys: Strutting their stuff in a Mani olive grove
Turkey fizzlers
CREATURES of all shapes and sizes have squeezed out of the woodwork suddenly. On a recent walk to an old monastery, hidden away in olive groves (but shut, which is often the case here where churches have splendid frescos inside) we passed a turkey farm, where two fat specimens were engaged in a heavy courting ritual, only they looked more like a couple of effeminate Sumo wrestlers in fluffy body-warmers. And I now know after gazing at these two why the prospect of a ‘turkey neck’ in later life is such a dismal prospect.
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