Straight From the Donkey’s Mouth: A Tail of a Greek Island, its People, their Politics - and their Donkeys!

By Eleni Trataris Cotton

What is life like on a Greek island? Indigo and turquoise seas, white sands, wine, salads and cheese? Yes, and handsome dark-eyed waiters too! But why not delve deeper and discover the passions, feuds and exuberance of the islanders. Be ready to be charmed, captivated and maybe shocked!
Join Peter and Serena, an English couple, drowning in a quagmire of bureaucracy as they try to start a new life on the island and struggle to get a licence to open a business. Will they make it?
Meet Apollo (brown) and Hortensia (grey), two island donkeys owned by the sadistic Aristides whom Apollo has named Arsie . They see everything as they go with Arsie on his rounds, the effects of draconian government measures to raise money for the country’s debt, the rabid tax evasion, the manipulation of EU grants - everything. Unhindered by human logic their comments are pithy, straight on the mark, acidic even. But will Apollo be able to save himself and Hortensia, and Eleftheris, another farmer, from Arsie’s cruel plans?
Stay awhile with the warm, earthy inhabitants of Paradisaki island and join in the rollicking lifestyle, the fun, the laughter and the tears. Cheer them on in their struggle as they use all their wits to survive the political climate and never lose that determination to live, and live well, come what may.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Nov 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781784628420

Book preview

there?

PROLOGUE

It was a cold January evening and Serena stood at the front door of her home, fumbling for her keys. It was dark, although it was only five o’ clock in the evening and a blustery wind was showing signs of working itself up into a tantrum. A fine rain danced on her face and made everything glisten in the subdued light of the street lamps; Serena turned the key in the lock and hurried in out of the cold. Her cheeks glowed with the gentle buffeting from the wind and the rain and she shivered a little as she put down her bulky briefcase and pulled off her gloves.

I should have come in the back door, she thought as she tugged off her boots and noticed the wet trail she had left through the hall. She went into the cloakroom, turned on the light and put her boots on the shoe rail, then pulled off her coat and scarf and draped them across two clothes pegs. The central heating will soon have those dry, she thought.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the long, narrow, gold-framed mirror. What a mess I look, she thought, and pushed her silky bob away from her face and tucked it behind her ears. Her big brown eyes, shadowed now with fatigue, stared back at her. A tough way to make a living, she informed her reflection before walking back into the hall. She looked down at her briefcase with disgust. That’s this evening gone on marking, she sighed as she picked it up and took it to the large open-plan family room, with the kitchen on one long wall, the dining area to its left and sitting area to the right. The wall opposite the kitchen had French windows which opened onto a large patio and Serena walked across to peer through the window. She grimaced at the patio, now drenched in rain, the plants and the stone floor shining wetly in the light from the family room.

She had barely started a quick supper when there was the sound of a key in the back door and she heard Peter come in shaking the rain off himself, hastily hanging up his wet coat and putting his boots to dry in the back vestibule.

Hello, he called out before bursting into the family room, his large and vital presence making the room seem smaller than it had been a few minutes before. His rugged, good-natured face beamed at his petite wife as he joined her at the cooker and planted a smacking kiss on the top of her head.

You look as though you’ve had a perm, Serena said. Unlike my hair which just goes into rats’ tails when it gets wet.

Never mind my hair, he said, green eyes crinkling at the corners as he sniffed appreciatively, Something smells good! Spag Bol, isn’t it? Can I help?

Serena turned to smile up at him. Yes it is and you could lay the table. Food will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Oh, and could you grate some cheese please?

I’m on it! replied Toby. I’m starving and fifteen minutes sounds great.

A short while later they were sitting across from each other eating their evening meal and commenting on the fact that for five days of the week they didn’t see each other or their home in daylight.

It’s awful when you think about it, said Serena. We leave the house in darkness and we come back in darkness.

Peter nodded. I was thinking that this morning when I set off for work.

Serena twirled some spaghetti round her fork. And most people seem mildly depressed now that Christmas is over.

Peter was matter of fact. It’s the usual thing. If it was a good Christmas you’re sad that it’s over and there’s nothing else to celebrate on the horizon. And, if you’ve over-spent, as very many have, you’re worried about paying it back.

It was at that moment that, as Peter put it later, a flash bulb went off in his mind, exposing an idea that had darted across his thoughts for many months. He put down his fork and spoon.

Serena, he said, let’s go to Greece. Let’s open an English language school!

Serena looked at him, startled.

Peter, are you serious?

Yes, I am. Let’s do something exciting whilst we’re still young and before we start a family. We both love Greece and the Greek people. We love the lifestyle. We save all year to holiday there; let’s make it our home for a few years. And let’s do something worthwhile while we’re there.

Serena put down her fork. Her eyes were alight with excitement as she leaned towards her husband and smiled at him.

"That’s been my secret, impossible dream for months. Yes, yes and yes!

CHAPTER ONE

It was a dark night, the path barely discernible as a lighter strip than the shadowy bushes on either side. The hills ahead were huge dark mounds without a flicker of light anywhere. It was the hour before dawn, a black sky overhead and a chill in the air, a time when most people slept their deepest sleep.

Apollo’s tail swung from side to side in irritation and his long ears lay back, flat with tension. Riding him was Aristides, a local farmer who sat sideways on a wooden saddle, his shoulders hunched, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Alongside was Hortensia, a little grey and white donkey who walked stolidly, her eyes sleepy, her gait weary. Behind them followed a flock of sheep, docile, bumping into one another, the lambs bleating as they tried to keep up with their mothers in the crush. At the rear rode Stephano, Aristides’ son, on another donkey. He led a fourth donkey by a rope tied around its neck.

Aristides started drumming his heels impatiently into Apollo’s sides.

Hurry up, you fool, he hissed to the donkey. Move! Move! He slapped his rump for emphasis.

Apollo marginally increased his pace then stumbled heavily, almost unseating Aristides, who cursed him and whipped his rump.

Apollo showed Hortensia his yellow teeth in a grin. Almost unseated him that time.

Hortensia was concerned. Yes, but you got whipped. Was it worth it?

You bet it was! he replied with a little neigh. I’m sick of this. Two nights in a row we’re woken up when we’ve barely gone to sleep and hustled with all the sheep, first to one farm and now to another. I’ve had enough.

Hortensia was sympathetic. Such a waste of time. I can’t imagine why they do it.

It’s because the inspectors are coming to check that the farmers have told the truth to the government about the number of sheep that they have. They get money for each sheep, you see. It’s called a grant from the EU but the way these three are doing it, each sheep will get three times the amount. What a laugh!

Hortensia walked daintily around a cow pat in the middle of the path, which a sixth sense rather than the available light warned her was there.

I’m sure we’ve discussed this before Apollo but I can’t for the life of me remember what the Eeyoo is!

Apollo was patient Don’t worry about it now. I’ll remind you later when we’re not so tired.

Yes, all right. Hortensia was thoughtful. Anyway, you’d think the inspectors would have wised up by now. After all, it does happen every year and surely someone has noticed that it’s the same sheep and donkeys that are inspected at every farm. I don’t mean to sound vain but I am often complimented on my looks, as you know, but I’m counted three times every year without a flicker of recognition. It’s disgusting.

I agree, old girl, but the thing is that the inspectors just pretend not to notice.

Hortensia’s eyes were wide with surprise. Why’s that then?

Well, their price for keeping silent is a cut from the grant. I heard them bargaining with my own ears. The inspector wanted a third, but our old Arsie here gave him what for and they settled on five percent. Watch! Let’s see if I can get him off now.

He stumbled and swung hard to the left, Aristithides lost his balance and slid from the saddle onto the ground, landing hard on his backside. He got up swearing and Apollo took the opportunity to lash him swiftly with his tail, catching him on the back of his neck.

You stupid useless donkey, howled Aristides, kicking and whipping Apollo until Stephano cautioned him to stop.

Calm down, father, he said, a lame donkey wouldn’t be any good to anyone and it won’t qualify for the special donkey grant. It’s the dark that’s doing it; we need to take it more slowly. It’s not far now.

Atta boy, commented Apollo to Hortensia. We have value it seems. A quiet chuckle then That felt so good. I’ve paid him back for the last week’s treatment and, yes, it was well worth the whip!

Half an hour later they had reached Christo’s little farm, which lay at the foot of a small hill; the seventy-odd sheep were herded into the prepared pen together with Christo’s fifty-four. The four donkeys were tethered to two olive trees a little distance away from where Christo’s two were tethered to a metal stake driven into the ground. A faint pink glow in the eastern sky crept in to lighten the darkness and became the cue for early birdsong and a subdued buzz of activity. The sheep decided they were hungry and started to nuzzle at the dry grass in the troughs, while the donkeys nibbled at the sparse grass around the trees. Cats of many shapes, colours and sizes appeared from nowhere and sat, eyes half closed and heads held up to catch the warming rays of the expanding sun.

Christo and Aristides, both short and bandy legged, disappeared for their first coffee of the day, into the little shed which housed the farming implements, insecticides and medicinal stocks. A door at the back led to an adjoining room which was brick built and held a small fireplace, a kitchenette, a dining area and two camp beds. From there a door led to a shower room with lavatory. Since it was against the law to have living accommodation on farm land, the exterior walls were carelessly camouflaged with sheets of corrugated iron and the roof was spread with swatches of dried grass. In this way it qualified as a temporary structure and attracted no taxes or planning permission.

Stephano stood in the yard, his lithe muscular form stretched upwards with arms spread wide as he breathed in the crystal-clear morning air. In the far distance the spreading flame of light caught the crests of distant waves, so that the sea seemed to be littered with scattered diamonds. How he loved his island, Paradisaki, with its wooded hills, tumbling waterfalls and fertile valleys. Way off the beaten track, it nestled in the Aegean, an oasis of green, and he raised his hand to his eyes to see if he could see Rhodes and some of the Turkish mainland in the east. No, the early morning haze was like a gauze veil with just a suggestion of outlines of land. Just north of Crete, Parasdisaki was one of the southernmost islands of Greece, a pearl of an island where the population were mainly farmers, fishermen and shop owners. Tourism had not yet strangled all other industries and a living could be made all through the year.

He strolled over to the donkeys.

"Kalimera, Apollo, kalimera Hortensia!" he said stroking their necks. Good morning.

What the devil got into you this morning, Apollo? he said with a playful smack on his rump before moving on to the other two donkeys which had been borrowed for the day’s count from a neighbour on the other side of the farm. As he’d said to his father, No point in passing up another grant, it all adds up.

Lovely lad, commented Hortensia.

Yeah, pity about the father, ignorant bastard.

Watch your language.

Sorry, but he is, and lots of other things as well, none of them good.

Ah well, the boys have turned out well, although they are merciless to the cats. Poor mites. The farms would be overrun with rats without them.

As though understanding what was being said, a kitten, white with a ginger eye, ear and socks bounded over, crouched and launched itself onto Hortensia’s back, where it sat purring raucously. Its other eye was an empty socket, some young boy’s sadistic legacy.

There was the sound of a motorbike coming up the rough rutted track and both donkeys stopped their munching to see who it was. Hortensia recognised him first.

It’s the inspector, Dimitri I think he’s called. This should be interesting.

There was panic as the farmers recognised him.

What’s he doing here so early? Blessed Virgin, it’s too late for us to disappear! Aristides was looking anxiously at Christo.

Christo was derisory. So what? He knows the situation. Calm down, mate.

Aristides wasn’t convinced. We should at least make it look real! I mean, he has his pride. Then, resignedly, it’s too late anyway.

Dimitris dismounted, parked his motorbike and unstrapped a well-worn briefcase from the carrier. He was a portly man with a ruddy complexion, below average height and dressed in a tight-fitting dark suit that was shiny with age. He hailed Christo and Aristides, who stood in front of the hut to greet him. Stephano walked across to join the small party. After the mandatory pleasantries were over and the families and relatives of the four men had been enquired about and wished well, Christo suggested that a table and four chairs should be brought out and put under the shade of a fig tree which grew, boisterously green, in front of the shed. The sun rose rapidly in this part of the world and the early morning crispness was already giving way to sultry heat.

This done, and a bottle of ouzo and glasses set on the table, the men sat down to talk business. Dimitris became grave as befitted the occasion and removed a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. He put on his glasses. In the silence that ensued he perused sheet after sheet of documentation then tapped them into a neat pile, cleared his throat and commenced the proceedings.

He looked questioningly at Aristides and Stephano.

You will stay while we do business?

Aristides smiled ingratiatingly. Sure, if it’s all right with you. We took our sheep out to graze and just stopped by to pass the time of day with Christo.

Ah. And you walked?

Aristides looked speechlessly at his son, willing him to explain somehow, anyhow, why they apparently had no donkeys. They couldn’t say that they were lent to Christo for the purpose of the tally. Yes, they all knew the game but appearances had to be kept up. Stephano stepped into the breach effortlessly.

No, but we passed some good grazing about a kilometre away and left our donkeys there to graze.

Apollo put his mouth close to Hortensia’s ear. See how he’s upping the ante by asking awkward questions. He’s got them wondering if he’s going to cover for them or not. They’ll be sweating with fright now.

So, how many sheep have you here? Dimitri asked.

Christo’s reply was prompt. One hundred and twenty-four.

And donkeys?

Six.

Area of land?

Fifty-two acres.

Apollo snorted. That’s rich. He’s only got two!

Hortensia giggled. I know. I heard them saying at the market last week that they’ve added up the declared acreage of the island and it turns out that it’s the size of Australia, which is apparently a huge nearby island!

Both donkeys collapsed into snorting giggles. You’ve got to hand it to them, chortled Apollo. I like it! Australia! And this island’s only fifty-five kilometres in length!

But, sitting in a huddle a few metres away, the men were deadly serious while Dimitris wrote slowly and carefully: ‘52’.

Finally, the papers had been completed and there remained only the signatures to be affixed. Dimitri appeared to be choosing his words carefully.

Christo, these assets will attract an estimated €35,000 in grants for you this year. In recognition of the work that I have done in order to bring this to a successful conclusion I am not prepared to accept a cent less than 10%.

Told you, muttered Apollo.

There were gasps from the other men. Ten per cent? That’s far too much! Dimitri, for the sake of the Blessed Virgin Mary, please rethink.

I think that’s blasphemous, whispered Hortensia through the side of her mouth. Blessed Virgin indeed.

Without a word Dimitri got up and started to collect his papers. The farmers sat up and glanced at one another in despair and then, at a slight nod from Aristides, they settled quietly back into their chairs. As you will.

It took five minutes for the signatures, another ten for a tot of ouzo and then Dimitri was on his motorbike bumping down the path, briefcase once again strapped to his carrier. The farmers consoled one another.

Look, it’s over €30,000 for each of us.

We won’t have to work this year.

It’s fair when you think about it.

Aristides got up wearily. It’s time we collected our animals and headed home. It’s been three long days.

We’ll stop by Othissea’s place to tell him the new terms, volunteered Stephano as he left the table to start rounding up the sheep and donkeys.

It had indeed been three long days. Profitable ones, sure, but long and stressful.

CHAPTER TWO

Twenty kilometres away in the island’s largest town, Kastro, Serena and Peter were trying to put an optimistic light onto a difficult situation. Passers-by turned to look at the good-looking couple, she petite and strikingly pretty, with a flawless lightly tanned complexion and sherry brown hair that fell in a gleaming bob to her neck, he tall, bronzed and ruggedly built.

They stood outside a freshly painted white building which proclaimed itself to be Education Headquarters, Department of Education, Paradisaki, Borough of Liandros. The sign was in two languages, Greek and English. The building stood on a relatively quiet street just outside the busy central area of the town. It also housed a small museum and a gymnasium and, opposite, was a pretty park where brilliantly-coloured flowers and leafy shrubs struggled gamely to flourish in the island heat. Cars crawled past, dodging pedestrians, illegally parked vehicles and scrawny stray dogs, tails tucked in. Cats were of course fair game. The ubiquitous motor bikes roared past, exhaust pipes tampered with so as to produce the maximum sound. This was illegal but the police had never been known to do anything about it.

Well, I suppose we’d better go in and see what surprises they have for us today, she said, her eyes dark pools of anxiety as she reached for her husband’s hand. He grasped it in his and smiled down at her.

Now, don’t get yourself worried, he said softly. We’ve managed to field every question and demand so far. He paused. Well, almost every one and there’s not much more that they can ask us for, I don’t think, that’s relevant anyway.

But that’s just the point. They don’t seem to consider relevance relevant – if you see what I mean.

I do. So they’ll probably want our great grandparents’ inoculation certificates today, he drawled and they both laughed as hand in hand they walked to the main entrance.

They had been struggling for well over a year to obtain a licence to teach English and it seemed to them that obstacles were deliberately being tossed in their way. Each time they visited the licence issuing department, there were further requirements to be met, many of which were apparently irrelevant and obscure, like a demand for verification that Peter’s father had completed his national service in England in the 1950s. No one could explain why.

Inside the building it was much cooler and as they approached the long desk opposite the door three cheerful faces looked up to greet them with a smiling "Kalimera". Michael rose from his desk and came to the counter to greet them. Of average height, with shining black hair swept back and pale skin, he was a helpful young man, well used to their visits and always apparently happy to see them. He was invariably smartly dressed and happy to answer any queries.

How are you? he asked.

Peter replied in Greek which was competent thanks to his determined study of the language during the year and a half that they had been on the island. Serena’s was not as good as Peter’s; she hadn’t taken it as seriously and was content to know enough to get her through simple daily transactions with the public and have uncomplicated chats with her Greek friends.

Fine, thank you, but I suspect that I shan’t be in a few moments when you’ve told me what you require next!

Michael immediately looked concerned and the girls on either side of him looked up anxiously. Peter kicked himself for forgetting yet again that the Greeks tend not to recognise the off-the-cuff quip so typical of the British.

No, I’m joking, he assured them with his friendly grin and they visibly relaxed.

Michael shook his head as he laughed. This British humour, it’s very sharp! So, what have we today?

Peter passed across a folder of papers. I think that you’ll find everything that you asked for in there.

Serena took the opportunity to exchange a few words with the two young women in the office, whom she had grown to know quite well during their many visits, but a sharp exclamation from Michael grabbed her attention.

But which one of you is going to teach? he was asking with a frown.

Both of us, replied Peter.

Ah, in that case your wife is also going to have to fulfil all the requirements. I had thought that it was only you, Mr Ellis.

Is that a problem? Serena was looking worried.

"Well, as you know, in order to teach