The Disadvantages of a Multi-Cultural Nature

Dear Gray


10 years ago, if I would have thought about it consciously, I would have concluded that I should consider myself amongst the lucky ones of my generation.
Born in dual nationality, that meant I was bilingual before I went to primary school. Attending a British school, I was exposed to students from a multitude of nationalities and cultures. This made me tolerant, seeing the endearing charm of personalities from different backgrounds, however this also cultivated a thirst within me to learn more and more. I guess this is the backbone of why I enjoy travelling as much as I do, when the means allow.


At 18 I arrived in Southampton, UK in the midst of a Gray October; oh what a glorious first semester that was!  I learned about Law & Politics, about my coeval Brit students, their alcohol thresholds and their nutritional choices (cereal, butter on toast, and kebabs make the Top 10 any day, any time), about how the University gives you every opportunity to fail, about boys versus men, about how you can find something that is 110% right for you, but in another point of your life.
Over the years I met many people from different backgrounds, people with different ‘tastes’ in music, in food, in forms of entertainment, I completed my Politics degree, I took on 3 different jobs before ‘landing’ at the Airport where I stayed for a total of 3 years. I enjoyed every bit of my stay abroad, maybe less towards June 2009 when I had made a decision that I did not want to turn into a plant from the overly wet wet weather of the UK.
I craved the sun, the warmth, the rhythm and beat of Athens once again. Little did I know that my timing to pack my 22 boxes and 7 suitcases was far from a welcoming one.

All Hell broke loose! And I use Hell as a figure of speech as I am quite convinced that the souls in Hell get lost in rockin’ revelry whilst head-banging to Black Label Society’s ‘Suicide Messiah’ as opposed to the souls in Heaven that stare into the vastness of green, moist, dewy meadow. Yuck!


Slowly the reality of a degenerated Athens kicks in. Corruption to the core, fuelled and propagated by the ways of governments since the fall of the junta in the 70’s, is the dance of the Greek. Nothing can be done unless you have the ‘connais’ in French meaning ‘knowing’ but in the Greek context it actually refers to ‘the right person, in the right place’ who, of course, will do you a favour or a ‘rousfeti’ in exchange for…well, let’s not generalise , every deed has it’s own ‘price’.


Yes, it was about time to set things right. Expose the system, cut the incessant spending, sew up the long pockets, and drain the culprits, at least those who have been named as having taken part in politico-economic scandals. The equation to solve the 'Greek-Guck' has an inherent flaw; no, not one, actually many, and the result is that the public is experiencing civil unrest. Protests, riots, injuries, deaths, smoke devices and rocks, police clubs and guns, molotofs  and hooded agent provocateurs parade on the global news, as our central square is the battlefield where the general public collides with the servants of power.

The International Monetary Fund and Democracy are large words, both meanings and motives of which have been questioned in our time. One thing is for certain: things are going to get a whole lot worse before they can get any better. Cruel times call for tight measures and Greeks do not mix well with ‘tightness’. The easy prediction is that life in this country will gradually become more and more constricting, oppressive, bleak and dangerous as the lack of cash flow will not immediately result in people becoming OK about living with less, and thus re-defining the poverty level , but rather resorting to criminal activity to sustain the remnants of a previous comfortable lifestyle.


People do not favour limitations; restrictions constrict our being, they baffle the mind, and curb creativity. The control they levy on emotions, on thoughts, on actions is frightening and a riotous assembly of temptation emerges; temptation to break free, to be unbound by rules, regulations, and the shackles of society. History is full of incidents where people strive to protect their freedom, to widen their borders, to be free from oppression.

So, how can one aspire to thrive in the bleakness of this prospect? I welcome suggestions. The only thing that comes to my mind is that I envy the cockroach that apparently is the most resilient creature known to man.


No, I do not want to envy a cockroach.

The future is Gray. I feel a hemp rope like a lasso tightening around me; its radius is approximately 1 meter away, and at its centre, me. It’s still not within my grasp, but I can see it, it no longer is invisible.

What will it take for me to take me life into my hands and make a gamble of it with the aspiration of investing in a brighter, more appealing future than the bleakness that surrounds me?  Am I a gambler? No, I wouldn’t say so. Or at least I’m not a sober one.  I want to do everything and anything, I want to suck the marrow out of life, to create, to leave something behind, to do good or bad, but do something! My high-school teacher once wrote in my yearbook: “The world is your oyster”. Agreed. But I think I’ve been eating the wrong kind. You know, the ones that give you the stomach flu. Where do I begin, this search of the oyster? This pursuit of happiness?


Damn my multicultural nature, I am not happy having seen a glimpse of the world and having to feel restricted in my motherland, yet to start afresh is a gamble I am yet too ‘poultry’ to take, the main reason being that the depression is global and not specific to Greece.


In addition to envying the cockroach, I also envy Dostoyevsky’s ‘Idiot’: in a world obsessed with money, power, and sexual conquest, a sanatorium may be the only safe place. Grab your straight-jackets, my generation, and let us march. Destination Unknown.


                                                                                                                x Rarachka x