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Sphakia – Impressions
There is a sequel. Some time later a blight fell on her brother’s sheep
in the hill-pastures. They were dying, two of them every day. He was
sceptical but intrigued by Antigone’s experience, and he was persuaded
to take the icon of Nektarios up the mountainside and bless the sheep
with it. From that moment on they flourished.
(There are fashions in saints just as in clothes and pop singers; and
Nektarios is popular at the moment, being fresh in the people’s memory.
I met a woman a few days later who had a three-month-old baby, as
yet unbaptized. When she bore him in Canea, there were complications.
It was thought she might die. So: ‘I prayed to God, since He is the
greatest, and then to Nektarios, and the baby is all right.’
I also saw a boy in Kandanos wearing a Nektarios badge on his
lapel – a plastic badge with a picture of the saint, as if he were a Beatle
or a film star.)
2 June. We had seen a donkey three days before. Georgioudakis’s
animal up in Lakki was much too expensive, although sweet and mild-
tempered. I think the old man was really a little reluctant to sell him
to us; as he said, charmingly, ‘Men are of many kinds – some good,
some bad, some steal animals, some are honest. I don’t know you, you
don’t know me. One must take care.’ The second donkey belonged to a
store-keeper in Meskla, a morose, weary man with asthma – one shelf
in his store was devoted to his own medicines. As soon as this donkey
saw us he rolled on the ground. A sign of healthy disrespect. We made
test runs up the village street on his back.
Today we bought him for 1000 drachmas (about £12). After
deliberating on Ajax, Jason, and Bellerophon we called him Alexander;
Aleko for short. He has a mealy nose, white belly, brown body
with black patches where the hair rubs off. He is very healthy and has a
rigidly straight back. The saddle is a wreck. His voice is tremendous and
rises to a tormented shriek on the breathe-in; he gives sound when he
sees another donkey. Their voices are all different. He likes sniffing
donkey mess. He has to be pulled sometimes. He nips.
(In the end he had to be pulled almost always. We were too soft with
him; the Greeks were much tougher.)
3 June. Overnight near Lakki Aleko was tethered to a sturdy root.
At about 2 a.m. he tore free and clattered off through the vine terraces.
Julie woke up, felt that something was wrong, got up and inspected
the root; by which time Aleko had disappeared. I woke up, and im-
mediately went to sleep again, having ungallantly decided that nothing
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