A Feuilleton

BY PILO ZYBA

The economic level and the unstable situation are pushing Greece into its dance on the edge of the abyss. Who are the ones actually leading this great dance to which the Greek economy and the Greek people themselves must step? A tragedy, but true! This mad dance is led by the two major Greek parties, New Democracy and Pasok; playing the instruments for their dance are the Communist Party led by Papariga, and the People's Party (may death take me for the name) led by Karatzaferis. The quiet, measured Greek people just watch their dance and do not grab a stick to drive them like cattle and kick them out of the stable of parliament. Because only a stable can it be called at this moment, as it has lost the people's trust. With or without aid, the politicians cannot find a common language. When there is nothing, they fight over poverty; when there is something to take, they fight over chairs, to climb into power and snatch it all.

A certain journalist from the state television ERT named Tasos Kouloglou (I remind you that Kouloglou means severed hand). But in truth, the gentleman doing the journalist's job should have his tongue cut off, not his hand. Because from the crack of dawn he goes out and beats the drum of propaganda, claiming that Greece is supposedly becoming like Albania! These are comparisons that suit neither the situation, nor the time and the problems for which the Greek people themselves have risen up and are protesting. They protest rightfully, because the downward slope they are being led down is steep; with this fall into the abyss, every citizen feels the pain as their head slams against endless taxes and skyrocketing prices, and there is nothing left for them to do but go and pray to God himself. But God's envoy in Greece these days is deaf in that ear, because neither his kamilavka nor his cassock will let him hear. United Europe reaches deep into its pocket and gives... gives so that Greece can emerge from its state of economic coma. It forgave massive debts to lift the weight of suffering from the shoulders of the Greek people, but the brides of the house cannot get along. When one takes, the other criticises; when the other wants power, she demands they take the money, then climb into power. The father of the brides, the president of today's Greece, with power but without strength, ponders, despairs, and grieves over the dire situation. When he was foreign minister, it was the time of “plenty”. This is the situation in Greece today. The Communist Party demands elections, the People's Party just watches, Synaspismos—another party—demands roast chickens. And the drums are never-ending; they start in Europe and are heard in the farthest islands of the Aegean. The party that wants to marry power has Samaras as its groom, the former foreign minister in Mitsotakis's government. George Papandreou does not want to hand over his bride, the chair... he grips it tightly, even though he sees for himself that it is being snatched away from him. The political chair, normally, is a whore that wanders from door to door, but this time she is reduced to a pitiful state. She is uncombed, has no money for makeup, and wears torn clothes. Such a bride is one you shouldn't even go near, but even in these times the grooms are not just one or two, but plenty, from several party leaders.

The bad thing is not that they want to marry her, but rather, after finding out that many of her debts were forgiven, they are now asking for her hand. Papandreou, the groom in power, who also lifted a heavy burden of debt from the bride's shoulders, does not want to leave his lover in the hands of others. But Samaras of New Democracy, now that the bride is waiting to receive a fat dowry from Europe, wants at all costs to snatch the bride and her dowry right out of George's hands. And so the two grooms, one pushing and the other pulling, are ready to leave the bride without her underwear. And it is somewhat strange because the two grooms are also old friends and pals; they grew up and studied together in America. But it seems they studied not to solve the people's problems, but how to snatch the beautiful bride of power from one another. And knowing the duels and the tricks of the Trojan horse, they lay aside their weapons and throw the Trojan horse cards on the table. They demand the creation of a provisional government (otherwise the bride gets no dowry from Europe, and without a dowry, no one wants her). The government that is expected to be announced at any moment is a game, since the government will be formed not by the people's chosen, but by those the people have elected. Woe to the people for those they have elected. They hung a cowbell around their necks that they never rang, ringing instead only the keys to the drawers and cash registers for their own profits. The sound of this bell has long been leading the flock into the wolf's den, into a great den called crisis. It does not eat you like the wolf does, once and for all, but eats you slowly and makes your life a misery. But what do the grooms care? Their own lives are bright; it is the flock whose life is blackened, and they are not after the flock, but the bride of the sheepfold, to live in orgies and pleasures for themselves, while the flock is left to its fate. In my country, Albania, they say, “one hits the nail and the other the horseshoe,” but the bride in question has neither nails nor horseshoes left; she has been left naked and has gone out begging at the doors of the world. And this amazes me: the bride of power, even as a beggar, is loved by everyone. But why do the grooms demand that Europe's money be taken by a provisional government, when the old mother, United Europe, has prepared the dowry for the old bride, Greece? Mother Europe is trying to rejuvenate her, to beautify her, to relieve Greece of her troubles! Today's grooms now demand that this European dowry be taken by a provisional government, and then enjoyed by one of the permanent grooms. And when he climbs into power and abandons her granaries, he will have the right to say, we did not take this loan (dowry), but the provisional government of national salvation did. The poor nation, the poor thing, that these grooms who never left it alone have become a knot in its throat, and for years have been choking it with taxes, with abuses, with thefts. When you hear them speak, your soul fills up; when you see them work, your pocket is left empty. And when your pocket is left empty, you apparently have no personality, no power, and no economic value, nor any authoritative or personal value. You become like the cue ball in billiards, which they always strike with the cue to knock it into the pocket. Bad players ruin the taste of the game not only for those watching, but also for the owner of the bar himself, who set it up for entertainment, but mostly for profit. My grandmother was right, God rest her soul, when she used to tell my father, “You should give your daughters to a noble and wealthy house,” but back then I laughed at her words, because I was young, in love, and believed in love and beauty. To tell the truth, I don't know where I go wrong, because from my grandmother's words I understand that the politicians of Greece are from a high political clan; Papandreou and their clan have been taking turns with the beautiful bride of the seat of power for 100 years, and the same goes for the Mitsotakises, the Karamanlises, the Venizeloses, the Pangaloses... If my grandmother were alive—the poor thing died three or four years ago and was 110 years old when she passed—she left me a dying wish that I often remember: “Where the house has no master, neither give a daughter nor take a bride,” but I have been a live-in son-in-law at the world's door for 20 years, and a lot of good this matchmaking has done me. hahahahahhaha!