baking, always make enough for the village; always make enough to share. Baking for the holidays is usually a group effort when the ladies in the village get together to socialize and make hundreds of cookies for the upcoming feast. Each person usually has her own family recipe, which was handed down to her through the ages, so it’s always an interesting affair to hear the debate: “Add more sugar.” “No, don’t add any more sugar.” “We use more cinnamon.” In the democracy that is Greece, indeed, everyone has their say.
One might say the Easter feast is the largest celebration of the year, but that is only if one hasn’t been to a local wedding that year, especially on the island of Crete where wedding parties in the city can grow to over a thousand well-wishers. It’s not uncommon to have large wedding parties with more than sixteen people in the bridal party because, after all, everyone is a cousin! It’s not unusual to go to the taverna and invite everyone in the whole village to the wedding and to put an open announcement in the local newspaper. It is the community that celebrates the wedding. There will be enough bread and cheese for everyone. There will be lamb on the spit and enough food to feed the army of wedding guests. Yes, food from many homes will be emptied onto platters and passed down the long tables set up in the village square or plateia. When, thousands of years ago, Cleobulus advised that moderation is best, he certainly wasn’t referring to the food at a Greek wedding!
“Food brings us together around the table,” explained Stavros as we shared the community table with him in a local taverna in the hillsides of Crete. “We never eat alone and we never eat in silence; well, except for the monks at Mount Athos,” he continued with a twinkle in his eye. As we looked around the rustic taverna we saw tables occupied by people of all ages—young children with their great grandparents and workmen in their overalls, covered with evidence of a hard day’s work, sharing the table with people whose attire signaled a more leisurely life.
On the community tables were a variety of large platters of appetizers (mezes or mezedes) and salads next to baskets brimming with freshly baked whole-grain breads and bottles of local olive oil. Everyone appeared to be savoring the food—sharing from common platters, not individual plates and portions. Everyone appeared to be savoring the conversations. The food and laughter were plentiful, symbolizing the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with friends in the presence of community.
The tradition of kerasmata, the buying of drinks for others, also united the taverna. The two men sitting off to the side, tossing their komboloi (worry beads) and watching a game on the television, stopped to share in a drink of ouzo or raki offered by some men at another table.
“Yamas (to our health),” said the pair as they raised their glasses. Giving a nod to the other men, they drank and resumed watching their game. Twenty minutes later, it was their turn to order a round of drinks for themselves and the other table, and the yamas exercise continued.
Interdependence
During our most recent travels throughout Greece, we observed a positive and meaningful albeit unintended result of Greece’s economic crisis: the rediscovery of the importance of the village! We’ve talked at length with both young people and older adults who not only are spending more time in their family’s village (horio), but also are investing considerable energies and resources to renovate structures and community infrastructure in the village. Besides seeking a reprieve from the chaos associated with living in highly populated areas, which are most negatively influenced by the current economic situation, these returning villagers are focusing more on the things that truly matter to them by essentially returning to their “roots.”
We asked many Greeks: “Why do you seem so resilient during this economic crisis?” More often than not, their responses centered on the beliefs that they could always go back to their villages, and that their grandparents (especially their grandmothers!) and extended families would care for them, and that they, in turn, would do the same. They knew that, at the very least, there would be food in the villages for all so that they all could survive.
Most of the food is grown or raised locally. Eggs, milk, cheese, fruit, vegetables, wine, olives, olive oil, and meat (sheep or rabbit) are all items traded amongst the families in the village. As our cousin Elsa told us, “We never bought eggs, there was always someone who had eggs to share.” For other items, they rely on traders who travel between villages in the area with large cars filled with bread, fish, and household items.
Relying on others is a shared value of the village. A woman we visited in Elounda, Crete, told us that she was going to Athens for a month. “But what about your child?” we asked. Her reply was telling, “There are many people in my village to look after my child while I am away,” she said with confidence. Her reply reminded us of the time we were in church when a small boy, probably age three or four, insisted on blowing out some of the small candles people were holding during the service. No less than three older women, all dressed in black, told him to behave. They didn’t hold back; they were active participants in shaping the character of this child and in creating the type of village they wanted. They supported the notion that it takes a village to raise a child.
The spirit of cooperation was alive and well when we visited the small, more modern village of Kalives. We were enjoying a late afternoon coffee at the kafenio on the narrow street that flows through the village, leisurely watching both time and people go by. The noise of the regional bus coming down the street broke the silence. Suddenly, the bus stopped and we realized that it was unable to pass by because a motorcycle was jutting out into the road. Three local men jumped into action. One helped the bus driver back the large bus up a few feet while the other two moved the motorcycle off the road. Then, inch-by-inch the bus moved forward and around the motorcycle and eventually was able to be on its way. The event provided ten minutes of excitement before we all went back to enjoying our afternoon coffees, reflecting on the knowledge that life requires a group effort.
—XENOPHON
Today, instead of being connected to the others we know for the necessities of life, we rely on strangers and institutions for our survival. We seldom barter with a neighbor or even know where our food is grown or comes from; we usually rely on a weekly transaction at a supermarket for everything, including our eggs! We seldom rely on others for our news, we rely on the internet. Elders seldom stay in the family home; they are checked into “old age” homes. We also now rely more on ourselves, resulting in a false sense of security. Instead of borrowing tools from our neighbors, we simply buy our own. Instead of asking others to help us, we simply do the chore ourselves. In doing so, what have we lost? Have we tried so hard to be self-sufficient that we cut ourselves off from one another? Perhaps if we had less financial wealth and material possessions, we would have to rely on others more, like the Greeks in the village do. Survival in the traditional Greek village depends on collective strength of the villagers, not the strength of one individual. This structure gives each villager a sense of comfort; villagers know that their family and village will be there to care for them. This mentality arose out of their historical struggles—throughout many wars, foreign occupations, and changes in government regimes, they had to rely on one another for survival.
An old man gave each son a stick. “Break them,” he said to his sons. Each son easily broke his own stick. Next the old man took several sticks and tied them together in a bundle. He handed the bundle to his first son and commanded, “Break it.” Unable to do so, the first son passes the bundle to the second son. One by one each son strained to break the bundle but was unable to do so. Union gives strength. Divided we are weak and vulnerable; but together we are strong. There is strength in numbers if we “stick” together.
—Aesop’s Fables (Greece,
