I met George at an old age (not at the time when the first friendships of our lives are formed) and for a few years. However, he won my heart with his unapologetic nature and integrity.
He was not what the housewives call with admiration «a good boy». He was one of the first four Red Dragoons. A tireless walker on the vast and largely uncharted continent of the Left. And if he lost his way at some point, I wonder who among us could blame him?;
He resisted the ‘merchants of patriotism‘ (as he called them), the vassals of symbols and the demagogues of our national imagination. In an age of nationalist insanity, fear-hatred of foreigners and flag-worship, he stood steadfastly opposed; perhaps, not always, convincingly and correctly, but nevertheless honourably and bravely.
He knew, after all, that the love of life requires greater heroism than the disciplined pursuit of heroism. For he loved his Nicola, Kythera and freedom; that is, what constitutes the true homeland for everyone. Because he loved life, company, conversation and competition. He left early, suddenly, without warning. And we still had so many good fights to have....
- Dimitris Koutrafouris
—-
Mature child
«I am a child of necessity and a mature child of rage», wrote Kostas Varnalis.
We said goodbye to a son who was always there for the needs of his family, his friends, even unknown fighters, but above all to his «Antraki» as he called his son, Nikola.
We bid farewell to the child of rage and anger against the world of injustice and all forms of social oppression and repression.
We will always remember you George.
- Dimitris Kontoleon
—-
My friend the enemy of the state
Oh, George. How much we've said and said and said and said. I remember when we first met I was grumbling about the length of the Piraeus-Kythera ferry trip and you smilingly told me you did it so often you were used to it. You made me think I should grumble less. Since then we've had many conversations. And you always had a special way of awakening the conscience. Especially when you'd had one too many beers, you became so honest I didn't know if I wanted to listen to you. I thought you were being unfair. Swing and a miss.
You were talking about the lies and hypocrisy of society, the comfortable people, the housewives, the fascists around us. Sometimes you got a pang of complaint about all those who resist making our world a better place. A genuine complaint that makes you bleed. A true comrade. We got ahead of ourselves and started an internet blog. We think we'll keep it. We should keep it for talking and dedicating songs. I'm sending you the following...
They say the law is to always wake up early,
from fatigue and if you want to, you can't get up.
The law is to go to work
that you say there to be consumed
without getting paid
and obey the bosses.
Find out, man, how, scientifically.
the true law is the only law,
is the following in brief,
The right of the worker who works all the time.
The law, they say, is to never react,
with your head bowed, always saying yes.
They say the law is to always be silent,
and nothing to claim
and if you say get up,
then be an enemy of the state.
The law is always to row, they say,
if you don't have enough money then you should pray.
Law say you will never be loved again,
because love has its time
and if she's left alone,
you'll be on your own eventually.
(LAW IS - lyrics: Fanis Margaronis - music: Christos Hadjispyrou)
- George Didymiotis
—-
Now that he is gone and I recall the moments I spent with George, I realize that there was not a single time when I was relaxed and comfortable with him. Even when I would bump into him by chance and sit for a beer in the sun outside the Astikon, the conversation and the - not so unusual - silence carried weight. Because George had such a forthrightness that it immediately activated your self-criticism mechanism, like a voice of conscience. Perhaps it was ignorance of the conditions in the small province, where we all meet everyone and the need for harmonious coexistence trains us in tolerance, in inexpensive superficial disagreements, in techniques of avoiding direct confrontation. And he brought with him this immediacy in the expression of opinion, easy in the city where one has the latitude to associate exclusively with like-minded people and answer only to them. And even though George, a man of strong political awareness and deep love, also hung out in Kythera with people who were politically completely indifferent or opposed, he never gave them chestnuts. It was this difference with how we locals behave that took away my ability to relax next to him. And occasionally he would cause unprecedented, funny for the island situations, like the time he wanted to take the blame for the destruction of the staircase in Kalami without even knowing who did it, upset that some snitch had turned in our blog to the Cybercrime Squad as being responsible. Or when drunk at midday in midsummer he proudly scribbled on the rock painting of the Greek flag in Diakofti and then grappled with the surprised tourists passing by.
The truth is that in the last few years we have rarely met. But his importance in my life was - and is - much greater than people I see every day. It's not common in Kythera for someone to say «good morning, what the fuck did you go and write?» instead of «well said, that's the way to go, keep it up». Maybe that's what I miss the most and I will always thank George for that legacy.
Andreas Mariatos
—-
Republished from Dragonera Rossa
