Monday, October 18, 2010

THE SEVEN DAYS OF JOSH MURRΑY IN KYTHIRA DAY 1 ''HORA''

''..Strolling through my great aunties’ olive grove near Mylopotamos, with her dressed in dowdy traditional widowing black chatting away cheerfully in Greek like it’s my first language, sporting a serious face grating moustache and her ‘happy to have family here’ tearful smile. It is only now I realise how important these memories are, how close they are to my life. Only now do I have the time to try and connect with this existence being my grandmother’s youth… milking herds of goats, picking and pressing the olives, fermenting the cheese, baking bread, cleaning up after toilet-anywhere donkeys and a strict Orthodox upbringing. Had it not been for her being shipped away to Australia for an arranged marriage at the tender age of 17 to my grandfather 14 years her senior, not speaking a word of english, probably only a suitcase of simple possessions with her and scared shitless… I would not be here today..''
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