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October 8, 1983

Eleni’s cousin met her future husband at a disco four months ago. Saturday night we drove with Vassilis and Eleni to the cousin’s engagement ceremony in a nearby mountain village. Leslie and I were invited because I'm Baby's godfather, which makes us members of both Vassilis' and Eleni's families.

Couples seldom break engagements in Greece, although Vassilis says that the breaking of engagements is becoming more frequent because of the "westernizing" influence. An engagement ceremony gives the families a chance to meet and begin a harmonious relationship. Also, the celebration makes public the engagement. At the typical engagement party the families dance to a record player turned up full volume so the village actually hears the family rejoicing. But this ceremony was supposed to be subdued because the groom’s mother had died recently.

The party began at the bride’s parents’ home at 7 pm. We arrived on time to find the house almost empty. The bride’s family arrived between 7:45 and 8:00. None of the groom’s family had come yet. Vassilis explained the groom and his family usually show up late. He told us that he had kept Eleni waiting an hour because he didn’t want to look “over-anxious”.

The attractive 18 year-old bride, tall, shapely, fair-skinned, with long black hair and large brown eyes, glowed as she calmly welcomed guests and helped her mother with the minute details. The guests, mostly older couples, were led into the hot pink “best room”. Long tables had been arranged near three walls of the room. By 8:15 all of the bride’s family were sitting at the tables, talking and laughing. Like Eleni’s parents, most of her cousins tend sheep and/or farm. One man in a plaid shirt had a green sprig of basil tucked behind his ear and as he talked he’d frequently hold the basil near his nose. A few times he passed it to the men near him and they’d sniff it too.

A little after 8:15 the bride started to look nervous and humiliated. She stopped talking and all the other conversation grew hushed. At 8:30 the wine was served and the room filled with talk and laughter again. As it neared 9:00 the guests, some already tipsy, became more animated. We all sneaked glances at both the door and the dejected girl in white. She looked miserable.

At 9:05 the groom’s party arrived. The groom, a tall handsome young man, followed his family through the doorway, hurried over to the bride and was deferential, even sheepish, as he whispered to her. She glowed again. They stood together in the center of the room beaming at each other, and the priest stepped in front of them. The groom’s father is a trim, good-looking man, about 55, with deep lines in his face which make him look severe. He gazed somberly at the couple. The priest called him forward to perform the blessings of the rings.

The groom’s father held the two rings, made the sign of the cross on the bride and groom’s foreheads, repeated this gesture many times before placing the groom’s ring on the bride’s hand and the bride’s on the groom’s hand. He solemnly said a vow, switched the rings back and forth as he recited the vow two more times and then left the rings on the correct fingers. The priest uttered a few words, everyone kissed everyone else, and the bride and groom exchanged gifts with each other, and then gave gifts to each other’s families. The groom’s father made a serious, thoughtful toast. Other people toasted the couple as the small glasses were filled with wine and emptied, filled again and again. The bride’s family brought us pastries and Jordan almonds. Soon we were served lamb and potatoes, along with salad and bread.

As we finished the main course a heavy man near us started making loud noises, which became recognizable as the beginning of a song. Almost half the guests, all from the bride’s family, took up the folksong. Vassilis whispered that the man who had started singing was the bride’s brother-in-law, a policeman in Athens. Impressed by his own voice, the policeman stood and performed. The groom’s father, grandmother and uncles looked grieved and sat with mouths firmly shut. Greeks have many rituals and beliefs about mourning; the widower obviously felt the singers showed no respect for his late wife. After the first song concluded the policeman melodramatically began a solo. He looked around the room proudly as he sang. The groom’s father's face, which had frozen into a tense mask, began to glisten with sweat.

The second song was ending when an old man on the other side of the room rose, earnestly addressed the whole room and then spoke gently to the groom’s father who nodded his thanks. Another old man across from Leslie and me, who had continued downing wine through the two songs, jumped up and turned to the groom’s father. He started a song loudly and stopped to tell the groom’s father that nothing can stop a man who wants to sing. The groom’s father looked at him sternly but the old man sang with renewed conviction. A minute later the bride’s relatives joined the song and the room was again divided between singers and stiff quiet figures. Vassilis said softly it was as if the bride’s family had told the groom’s family to "fuck off".

During all this the engaged couple, next to the groom’s father, silently stared straight ahead of them at the hot pink wall across the room.

The songs followed each other with no break. Finally Vassilis whispered that we should leave. It was 11.00 and we were the first to go.

On the drive back, Vassillis said the bride's mother had disapproved of the marriage but was finally persuaded to allow it. Everyone in both families knew of her opposition.

February 11, 1984

I scheduled my lesson with the twins this Saturday morning for 7 a.m.  so I could get back to Meligalas and drive Leslie and Vassilis’ mother up to Revmatia for the slaughter of the pig Eleni’s family had been raising. Vassilis said if we got there too late they’d kill the pig without us.

Eleni’s mother had built a fire under a large cauldron of water outside. Everyone was wearing winter coats, the day was cloudy and chilly. The men stood together on the concrete porch. The view down the mountain and over to the other mountains was magnificent. Leslie and I have sat on this porch many times, often eating delicious foods Eleni’s mother prepared. But now someone had taken away  the wooden chairs.

Eleni’s mother led the huge sow out of the pen. As the sow came down towards us she saw the six men, all visibly excited and nervous, some of them holding knives. The sow began to fight and the men rushed her, pulled her over to the porch and flipped her on her back. Her legs kicked out with dangerous power, her tongue twisted and extended full length, she screamed with incredible volume, a hoarse bellow more piercing than anything I’ve ever heard. Themen couldn’t hold her still and had to dodge her violent kicks. The bellowing continued, the men’s cursing sounded feeble in comparison. Efiniki began to wail and was led inside. Finally the men were able to overpower the sow and Eleni’s father cut her throat.

Eleni’s brother Theodoros threw water onto the slit throat to clean the wound of blood: the sow’s knee jerked. He did it again and the corpse shuddered. Everyone laughed. Other men started prodding or kicking the body. It had been a hard fight, I think everyone needed relief.

Vassilis told me that last year, less than two years old, Efiniki laughed when they slit the pig’s throat. This year her crying lasted a few minutes after the sow’s death and then she hurried out. She started hitting the sow’s back and laughing.

February 19, 1984

The sow screaming, ridged roof of mouth, tongue stretched out, reminded me of the horse in Guernica.

July 4, 1984

Nightmare last night: I was in bed at nigh and woke as I was lifted by two big arms, one grabbing me between the legs and the other around the neck, like I was some animal. I knew I was going to be killed, stabbed, and was helpless, could only scream, bellowing, and realizing in the horror of it that I sounded just like a pig about to be knifed, and that made it even worse.

The most horrible thing about the nightmare was being a scream, all of me a terrible bellow of fright and protest, as if that would save me though at the same time I knew it would not.