LOOKING BACK…

When an era passes you can’t help but sift through all the memories…our common yard with the three houses once bustling with activity has gradually become very quiet. The whole thing seems rather surreal with the passing of the last family member of a bygone era. Yiannis’ mother passed away after living a full life of 97 years… There’s a Greek saying that aptly defines the kind of person my mother-in-law was…` then to bazei kato’… What it refers to is a person who never gives up, who perseveres against all odds. That was exactly the kind of mettle she was made of.

She cooked, sewed and cleaned with unrelenting passion and unwittingly showed us up for our insufficiencies, especially mine when it came to running a house. In our younger days, she ran a `soup kitchen’ all on her own…for our extended family. My father-in-law did all the food shopping, making several trips on a single day to the grocer’s, butchers and baker’s and Yiannis’ mother would churn out these delicious traditional Greek dishes and come knocking on our door bearing trays of them. We all received a fair share…even the widow next door who lived with a big bony dog called Rudy. Sometimes there were huge wedges of moussaka… fried potatoes and aubergines with a layer of creamy bejamel and a topping of cheese, cooked in the oven to a golden brown…on other days, steaming dishes of stuffed tomatoes, courgettes and green peppers, fragrant with herbs. Then there were the courgette pies and cheese pies and spinach pies and in between, cakes and biscuits to dunk into Greek coffee.

Yiannis’ mum was an army wife and ran a tight ship. Rugs were shaken out and aired every morning. Her black marble floor was polished to a slippery finish, much to the horror of older relatives. All clothes were washed starched and ironed to a stiffness. She had a bee in her bonnet about cleanliness and that bee buzzed about so much that my father-in-law used to say that whenever he stepped into the house, after a brisk walk back from town and even before he could catch his breath, she’d pull the shirt off his back and give it a quick wash to sweeten it up. Sometimes this penchant spilled over to our little abode as well. I remember our carefree years when we went on holidays leaving behind an overflowing linen basket…my mother-in-law would slip in as soon as we left, make a bee line for it, drag it out and wash and press everything before we got back. Her sheets and pillow cases were of white cotton with needlework of intricate designs or embroidered delicate white flowers, all executed to perfection. Her Singer sewing machine whirred out dresses and coats and curtains for everyone. She took care of our animals when we were away and adopted two when they refused to come back to us…Louis, the shaggy untrainable dog that sat in her tub and was soaped and showered and dried and came out smelling like a flower… and Pipikos, the white long-haired cat that would crawl under parked cars and drag his furry tail dripping with car oil back to the house, only to be pinned down in the washbasin and his tail lathered and scrubbed with my mother-in-law scolding him in a shrill voice…` WHAT KIND OF TAIL IS THIS???’

One of Yiannis’ mum’s defining characteristics is that, like time and tide, she waited for no man, or woman for that matter. There was always this breathless urgency to get things done… RIGHT AWAY…IMMEDIATELY… or preferably…YESTERDAY. Before any festivity…Christmas, Easter or even birthdays, her sweets and savouries were rolled out and distributed before anyone else could even shop for ingredients. And if we had to take her some place, she would be ready well before time and either ring us or appear at our doorstep, all dressed with a scarf around her neck and a brooch to pin it in place and declare…I AM READY…and we would roll our eyes up and run around in circles to make haste. But looking back, I suppose it was a small price to pay considering her generous and tireless contributions to the family. Even until lately when she could hardly stand, let alone walk, she continued baking and cooking with the help of the woman who looked after her.

This brings me to the day of her funeral, which was in the afternoon on a Thursday. All the preparations had been made and all we had to do was to present ourselves at the church. But in the morning, we felt a sense of restlessness. There was something about her house that kept calling out to us, something that needed to be done. Ever since she was unable to run the house herself, the cleaning was somehow put on the back burner. Her caregiver was devoted to her but cleaning was not a priority. At nine the doorbell rang. It was our cleaning lady, Lena. At that moment a thought occurred to me…` Why don’t we send her to your mum’s to clean up the place?’ I said. Yiannis immediately agreed. He set about emptying out the medicine cabinet and Lena and I cleared out the contents of the two fridges and the kitchen cupboards. We gave her all the food which she willingly accepted. Even when we left for the service, Lena was still hard at work, washing and scrubbing the surfaces. When we got back, she had already left and the house was spotlessly clean…pristine, almost like in the good old days when my mother-in-law was at the helm…`I feel she’s at peace now,’ said Yiannis with a sigh…`Do you think it’s because we cleaned her house?’ I asked. He looked at me curiously but didn’t say a word.

The next day we went back to her house to water the potted plants on the balcony. There were red and pink geraniums spilling out through the rails, a jasmine in a huge pot with pretty sweet smelling white blooms, begonias with bright red flowers and massive pots with huge thick leaved plants climbing up the walls. Yiannis sighed again…a little nostalgic and a little at his wits end…` What are we going to do with all these plants?’ We talked about getting his workers to come round…one of these days…to move them out. We shelved it for the time being. No need to get everything done right away. The next day was Saturday and Yiannis mentioned it to Jimmy while they were planting the vegetables late afternoon. At dusk he walked in smiling…a smile of relief…` You wouldn’t believe it! Jimmy said his nephew happens to be visiting and they could move the plants tomorrow!’ …`Wow things seem to be moving very fast!’ I said. Almost…RIGHT AWAY…I thought. The next day, like clockwork, the two men sweated and panted and heaved the pots down and loaded them on to Yiannis’ truck…and they even cleaned the balcony. Most of them were transported to his sister’s place and on Yiannis’ insistence, we kept a few. At three in the afternoon, the work was done and we went off to one of our luncheon haunts, perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. As we watched the waves rushing in and lapping the rocks below and gulls sweeping over the glinting blue sea, Yiannis sighed…once again…and said…once again…` I think she’s at peace now.’ And I couldn’t stop myself from thinking out aloud…` Do you think she engineered the whole thing?’ He gave me that look again but uttered… not a word.

That Sunday night while we were relaxing in front of the TV, I looked at Yiannis with a frown on my face and asked the question that had been playing in my head for the last few days…` Don’t tell me you’re going to let that stubble grow into a beard! You remember what happened the last time!’ The last time was when his dad passed some eight years ago. Yiannis didn’t shave like most Greek men do, as a sign of respect, when a loved one passes away. I kept making snide remarks but he wouldn’t bend to my heathen ways. I told his mother about it and she summoned him and told him to get rid of it…`Your father would never approve of this!’ His father the ex-General was always clean shaven and not too stuck on such social mores. So off went the stubble. But this time, who was to argue my case? ` I will keep it as long as I need to,’ came his reply, almost defiant as he scratched away at the overgrown bristles…and this could well mean FORTY DAYS…the forty days of mourning…which would mean that as it grew shaggier and more rampant I would wake up in horror every morning to see this scruffy stranger sleeping next to me. I had no idea how to deal with it and my only ally had crossed over to the other side. The next day was Monday, Monday blues and all that. We were both grumpy…he because the beard was getting very itchy but he was still adamant…me because I couldn’t look at him…he looked a fright. He went off to work and I pottered around in the garden, pulling out weeds with a vengeance. Then I decided to pop into town and do some window shopping. It might cheer me up. When I got back it was late, almost two and I started pulling things out of the fridge and chopping vigorously. I kept telling myself…`I need half an hour, just half an hour to boil the pasta, whip up a sauce, grate the cheese and tear some lettuce leaves for the salad’. Just then Yiannis walked in and I, bent over the worktop, shouted over my shoulder…`You’ll have to wait for a bit.’ He grunted…`I had nipped in at twelve. You were not around’…`I was in town…Why did you come back anyway?’…`Hmm…I had to shave.’…`WHAT?’ I screamed out hoarsely and dropped everything to turn around and look at his face. He was clean shaven and smooth just like his good old self. He told me that he had rung the passport office to get his passport renewed and they had promptly given him an appointment for the next day, bright and early and he had to get his photo taken today and…off went the stubble. WAS IT THE WORK OF MY ALLY???? I was speechless…and all that came to mind was…this quote from Hamlet…`There are stranger things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

So cheers till the next time.