If you don't, you risk more

The state of things

What could I have done differently to prevent this?

I have been watching my country sink in the abyss for almost ten years. Like a huge accident happening in slow motion before my eyes and I'm not lifting one finger to stop it.

1997, England: I was watching those cheap ads about loans on television. 'Every one else has said no? Come to us!' I was thinking, how nice, that in Greece we have own our homes, we don't use credit cards, we don't get bank loans. Once, an English girl from uni bragged about how much higher the standard of living in England was, compared to that of Greece. Silly girl, I muttered. I hadn't imagined poverty and misery in a European country before going to the UK. Homeless men and women on almost every corner. Racism. Muggings. Stabbings. Squalid student houses. Filthy streets. Break ins. Crappy constructions. University students who couldn't even spell. Men peeing in alleys. Vomit on the pavements. Alcoholism. Teen pregnancy. Greece, at that time, was a safe and happy place compared to England. Everything that mattered was cheap: food, rent, petrol.

2004, Greece: Even if many of us didn't want the 2004 Olympics, we nevertheless felt a sense of pride at the opening ceremony of the games, we found ourselves in a hype by the totally unexpected win of the UEFA Cup, and thought we were really on a roll when we won the 2005 Eurovision song contest (yeah, I know...).

From 1996 until 2004 I had been visiting Greece only for short periods of time. Every time I returned, another myth of mine was shattered. Suddenly everyone could and did have a credit card. In fact they had several credit cards and weren't afraid to use them. Banks enticed people into all kinds of loans: loan to buy a house, a car, loan to renovate a house, loan for you business, heating petrol loan, holiday loan, extra cash loan. Suddenly, the streets were filled with big black blocks on wheels. Hummer, Cayenne, Lexus, which cost as much as an apartment and probably cost to run as much as the rent of that apartment. Not so suddenly,  the ghettoisation of certain areas in the city centre had begun.Whole neighborhoods became no-go zones, because of muggings, the drug dealing, the drug using, the prostitutes and their pimps.

2004 was also the year that I left England to come back to Greece.

The price of a ticket for the metro went up to 0,80 euros in 2006. It is now 1,40  euros and in compliance with the new terms that we signed, it will go to 1.75 euros within a year, an increase of almost 120% since 2006. The price of petrol has more than doubled in the last three years. And since we joined the euro, the prices of all basic goods have gone and keep going up.

2012, Greece: Pay cuts, pension cuts, more increases in utility bills, direct and indirect taxes, cuts in money spent on health and education, to the degree of hospitals shutting down, merging with other hospitals, schools also merging with other schools, thus increasing the number of students per classroom. And let's not talk about how many people were fired from their jobs in the last year and how many businesses went bust. And let's not talk about the increase of homelessness, people looking in the garbage for things they can sell or eat, the increase of violent street crimes and the spiral increase in suicides, either.

But you know all these, don't you? And of course you know that Greeks work the longest hours in the EU. Of course you do. Because you are an informed citizen of the world. And you wouldn't label a people lazy without having done your homework first. You wouldn't laugh at what is happening to Greece now, because you are a human being and you don't find the suffering of others entertaining. You wouldn't just say, 'they lied in order to join the monetary union', as if that justifies the terms on which we are made to borrow money now. When other countries have larger debts than ours. You wouldn't say that. And surely you would be outraged at the suggestions that we should sell our islands. And because you are not ignorant, surely you don't sleep very comfortably at night, a part of you knowing that your country might be next and that you might find yourself asking the exact same question: What I could have done differently to prevent this?

The presses have stopped.

When the new coalition government was formed, I stopped following the news. I was deeply shaken and disgusted by the fact that there were now far right extremists in the government, with a percentage in the last election of 5.63%. Ridiculously high anyway, but under no circumstances high enough to justify them being in government, even if it is a well known fact that at times of social turmoil some people affiliate themselves with the nationalists (oh, why be kind, when fascists is what they are). The extreme right, from here on referred to as the fascists, hadn't had any active role in parliament, other than occupying the occasional seat, and talking the occasional nonsense, since the fall of the junta, in 1975. That was before I was born, but lucky me, in my lifetime I was granted the privilege to see them as ministers and vice ministers. Scary and ludicrous at the same time.

Shortly after the new government picked up where the previous had left off, signing all the ridiculous terms the troika posed, and, as I said I stopped following the news, the newspaper I used to read the online version of, at the office, while having my morning coffee, went bankrupt. In the olden days, the closure of ελευθεροτυπία would have constituted major news. It wasn't just any newspaper and it's not a coincidence that it was founded in 1975. Until the end, it was where some of the more radical voices were allowed to express their views. On a much more personal level, it provided a common pool of information for me and my sister who lives abroad, with a daily exchange of links to articles that we would discuss at length during our weekend phone call. Refusing to believe that what had appeared to be a strike was actually the end of ελευθεροτυπία, I keep returning to their home page with my coffee in hand, only to be met by the same frozen news of December, 21st: the homeless die 30 years early, a lack of ethics in politics, what films to expect in 2012. Since then, as the situation around us becomes grimmer and grimmer, as we become utterly helpless and hopeless, I get a sense of comfort, knowing that somewhere is always December 21st 2011, there is still some hope for an uprising, and I can pretend to care about the imminent release of Men in Black 3.

Then later a movie, too.

'Tis not a good time to be Greek. We've been poor before, although certainly not in my life time, but this is different. There had always been some dignity in our misfortunes before. Now we are the laughing stock of Europe. I've even heard of Greek doctors who work abroad receiving racist comments from their patients.
And today I read the synopsis of a Channel 4 programme that nearly gave me a stroke. I felt humiliated, deeply offended and angry.

We have failed. I feel we're in a sinking ship. We all know it but pretend there is still hope. Or perhaps we're all tired of the constant influx of bad news. Perhaps, in a way, we've given up trying to keep up with the never ending developments. I doubt any of us understands what's going on any more. I, for one, have no idea what is happening and I don't care that much, either. If something really important happens, I trust someone will tell me. Whether our Prime Minister resigns, or which European leader bullied us today is insignificant. We have put ourselves in a situation we will never be able to get out of.

Despite it all, it was a sunny day yesterday. A day for holding hands, for a walk in Monastiraki, for buying old books for 50 cents each. People seemed eager to enjoy the sunshine. A father who sold second hand clothing on the street was burying his giggling son under piles of jackets. He then pulled him by the leg to lift him up and the kid burst out laughing.

I know things will get even worse. Because poverty in such urban environments breeds a very ugly kind of despair. Maybe Sunday was the calm before the storm. (Does a part of me yearn for that storm?) In any case, it was a perfect day for holding hands. At least that is something they can never take away from us.

A New World (and it's not brave at all)

My work takes me places. Other jobs take their employees to conferences or training seminars in London or Madrid. Mine does something way cooler than that. Almost like in a Stephen King novel, every once in a while it transports me to a parallel universe.
Because of my work, I go to places I would never, ever, not in a million years, have gone to. I see things that I never knew existed. And some times, a whole new world expands before my eyes.
A world of nymphets, drug addicts and sociopaths. Of very high heels, very firm breasts, very heavy make up. A world of STDs, low self esteem and big muscles exploding through tight T-shirts. Cocaine sniffers (I haven't been round long enough to know the slang for this), social climbers, alcoholics. Of young boys and girls blinded by some second rate, faux, limelight. Airheads, dickheads, fathers introducing their barely legal sons to me in the off chance that I might be someone who could help boost their career. Somebody get me a bucket.
It makes me sad. I don't want to know all this. I don't want to feel like a complete stranger in my own city, in my own skin. I don't want to feel there's no hope at all. I liked my little bubble. What the hell am I doing here? I'm afraid I won't get work elsewhere and thus I'm selling my soul -ok, not my soul, but my time- to the raised collars, the low cleavages and the cheap thrills.
But most of all, I'm afraid that it will be so much easier if I just join them.

London's Burning

It is wrong to burn people's properties. Looting is also wrong. Smashing police cars, very wrong. But -and I'm almost ashamed to say it- destruction and mayhem are so exhilarating! They seem to be carrying the possibility for change. What kind of change, who knows! We want it when we become fed up, as we are now, in the belief that change is good. Even though time and time again we've seen little or no change at all after similar outbursts, the recent riots in the Arab world have offered a glimpse of renewed hope for the rest of us.

Perhaps it is indeed just a bunch of brats who destroy and pillage just for the sake of it (with Prodigy playing in the background). This is certainly the impression one gets from the media. But this is in no way any less significant than if they had organized themselves around an ideology. It could, in fact, be much more significant, as it is raw, spontaneous, uncontrolled and by the look of it, uncontrollable. The timing is no coincidence, either. We can't ignore what's happening by simply labeling it antisocial or criminal behaviour. Why in England? Why now? Could these people have a profile? Is there something that unites them? Is this another indication that the era of capitalism has passed and we're carrying its rotting corpse on our backs? I'm eagerly waiting for the political and sociological analyses in the Sunday papers. 

It's also kind of nice to be reading about riots that are not happening in Greece for a change. It makes me grin. Smugly. I know this doesn't make me a very nice person. I do have some rather radical ideas sometimes (I might share them with you one day), but I'm generally very meek. I'd be like one of those people who go on a killing rampage one day and their neighbours say 'she was such a sweet girl, very quiet, never bothered us or anything'. Not my neighbours, though. They're evil. (I should move them up a notch on my list)

mayday

Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard.

I’m a 32 year old single woman, and quite often I feel I’m under attack from all directions.

On the personal sphere. I’ve trained myself in avoiding any contact with my parents’ friends. When I fail, my behaviour borders on the aloof, the rude, the sarcastic. ‘Yes, there aren’t any men’. ‘Yes, it appears that my parents will have to live without grandchildren’. “No, I’d rather pull my eye out with a fork than meet your nephew the pharmacist/civil engineer/economic analyst’.

Some of my friends advocate casual sex. They are unaware of the curse my mum placed on me when I was still in elementary school: You shall have sex only with people you love. Every time I’ve tried otherwise, it has been a disaster.

So I try having relationships. They all start off wonderfully. And as I am a great romantic, I think this is it, I found my companion. And then the ridiculous demands begin. ‘I’m abusive, jealous and I drink. Stick with me, I’ll change’. ‘Are we going to get married or should marry the cousin my mum picked out for me?’ ‘I love you, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be faithful’. ‘I love you more than anything in the world but you didn’t tell me you ran into your ex boyfriend and I can never trust you again. Let’s stay friends, though.’

My hair turns white, I stop eating, I can’t sleep, but eventually I start trying to pick up the pieces after every insane break up and hope I’ll be stronger for the next one. Meanwhile, there is always psychotherapy.

I’ve been a privileged daughter. I can’t complain. But now my parents need me and I feel inadequate to cope with the cancer and all the other health problems, the bureaucracy, the money issues. I can’t spend more than ten minutes talking to my father even though I know he’s lonely and I avoid seeing my mother as much as I can because I can’t stand her showing how worried she is about me. She brings me food, it rots in the fridge.  

Work requires more diplomatic manoeuvres than actual skill. Plus the crisis has ensured that employees now live in a reign of terror. At least you have a job, people say and they are right. Soon people who have a job will be the exception. Where I work, one can never predict who is going to get fired and why. You show up for work and you’re told to pack your things and go. Just like that. It’s the crisis. It can’t be helped. Human decency, employment law, they have nothing to do with it. It’s the crisis. It’s difficult for all of us. Bye now.

But the hardest thing of all is coping with this insane country. The fear that all that my grandparents and parents worked for will have to be sold off just to pay the taxes. Year after year they have to pay taxes for the luxury of ownership. It hadn’t occurred to me how ridiculous this was until a friend who grew up in a different country and system pointed it out. 

The fear that if you do take to the streets and protest for all that is going wrong in this place (and assuming you don’t get fired for doing so) you’ll end up in hospital for having been within the range of a policeman’s glob. If you go out night or day in the city of Athens, chances are you’ll be robbed (I thought all this was an exaggeration until it happened to me), mugged, stabbed, or see someone else get stabbed for being dark skinned, or carrying a camera with him, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You might see, in the middle of the day, as you’re doing your grocery shopping in the open market, a woman on fire because some of the petrol aimed at the police motorcycle by some dickhead was spilt on her too, and you might see a man set alight as he’s trying to help her.

You have known for years it was going to come to this and you were hoping that someone else, the mayor, the members of parliament, your fellow citizens, were seeing it, too. But there was never any plan. And now the people, humiliated by the IMF, disgraced by the EU, unemployed, scared, betrayed by government after government, have turned into angry sheep, an angry mob, and there is no way to contain them.

And you know it is not going to get any better.