Τα στίγματα του Κάιν

Τι είναι αυτή η αριστερά!

2012-01-28T05:19:00.000-08:00

Πάντως δεν είναι μία η αριστερά.Και είναι λάθος να αθροίζουμε τα ποσοστά των κομμάτων,που εκπροσωπούνται από αυτούς τους πολιτικούς αρχηγούς.
Και φυσικά,επειδή είναι έλληνες δεν υπήρχε περίπτωση ο ένας να αποδεχτεί την πολιτική ηγεσία του άλλου!
Σκεφτείτε επομένως με πολύ περίσκεψη σε ποιόν από τους τρεις αριστερούς θα δώσετε την ψήφο σας,αν ψηφίσετε αριστερά!
Μελετείστε την πολιτική του πρόταση και αξιολογείστε το ρεαλισμό της,αν πρόκειται να ρίξετε στην κάλπη την ψήφο σας γι'υτούς τους αρχηγούς και τα κόμματά τους.
Διαφορετικά θα πάει χαμένη σε κρίσιμους καιρούς,που η αριστερά μάλλον θα μείνει και πάλι παρατηρητής στις εξελίξεις!

Μόνο στη Βασιλεία των ουρανών!

2012-01-28T04:44:00.000-08:00

a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1Gcei8EbuvA/Srxh0lrwTpI/AAAAAAAAAOw/HJjBrTcLI6M/s1600-h/06-12-PowerofLove.jpg">

Ακούω με ιδιαίτερη προσοχή την άποψη πως το κοινωνικό κακό ως εκμετάλλευση του εργαζόμενου και της εργασίας,οι ανισότητες και εντέλει η εξαθλίωση των κοινωνικών μαζών είναι εγγενής απάρροια του πολιτικού συστήματος που επιτρέπει αυτές τις εκτροπές.Αν επομένως αποκαταστήσουμε τη Λαϊκή Κυριαρχία,τότε θα λύσουμε και το πρόβλημα της κοινωνικής αδικίας σε όλες της τις μορφές.
Με άλλα λόγια μια κοινωνία ισότητας και κοινωνικής δικαιοσύνης ως εσχατολογική προσδοκία στην πολιτική!
Ξεχνώ τι σημαίνει λαϊκή κυριαρχία ως κομματική γραφειοκρατία και κομματική νομενκλατούρα και έρχομαι στην ουσία του προβλήματος.
Και η ουσία είναι η αντινομία της ανθρώπινης φύσης.Το καλό και το κακό που είναι σύμφυτα στον αρχέγονο πυρήνα της ανθρώπινης ύπαρξης.
Όλα τα άλλα έπονται στην ερμηνεία του κοινωνικού κακού.
Δε θα εγκαταστήσουμε παραδείσους στη γη.Θα αγωνιζόμαστε πάντοτε για να κυριαρχεί το καλό ως ηθική και πολιτική έννοια.Συχνά θα αποτυγχάνουμε,αλλά θα συνεχίσουμε ν'αγωνιζόμαστε.Κι αυτό που είναι αδιαπραγμάτευτο είναι η δυνατότητά μας να αγωνιζόμαστε.Εκεί ακριβώς εδράζεται και η ουσία της Πολιτικής Δημοκρατίας.
Άρα το θέμα μας δεν είναι τα κοινωνικά συστήματα αλλά ο αγώνας για παιδεία και πνευματική καλλιέργεια για να ξεπεράσουμε τις αντινομίες της ανθρώπινης φύσης,που οδηγούν στην εκμετάλλευση του ανθρώπου από άνθρωπο,που εξυφαίνουν τον πόλεμο και την εξαθλίωση στο όνομα του κέρδους.
Με άλλα λόγια,δεν υπάρχει κανένας λόγος να βλέπουμε την αριστερά με ""πρωτοχριστιανικό βλέμμα".Ο ρεαλισμός πρέπει να είναι το πολιτικό μας κριτήριο στις επερχόμενες εκλογές!

Η σοσιαλιστική ουτοπία και το άδοξο τέλος της.

2012-01-28T04:35:00.000-08:00

Η Σοσιαλιστική ουτοπία και το άδοξο τέλος της είναι η πρώτη όψη του νομίσματος στο θέμα που αναλύουμε.Το πρώτο βασικό ερώτημα λοιπόν που προκύπτει σήμερα είναι «αν μπορούμε να κάνουμε λόγο για Ανάπτυξη χωρίς την οικονομία της αγοράς».
Έχουμε την άποψη ότι ακόμη κι αν δεν απαντήσουμε καταφατικά στο ερώτημα αυτό είναι σίγουρο ότι η κρατικοποίηση των μέσων παραγωγής ή όπως αλλιώς θα βαφτίσουμε μια τέτοια στρατηγική επιλογή,θα οδηγήσει στην οικονομική στασιμότητα,στην ύφεση και τελικά στην κατάρρευση του κοινωνικοοικονομικού εποικοδομήματος,που στηρίζεται σ’αυτήν την επιλογή.Αν μάλιστα θελήσουμε να επιβραδύνουμε την κατάρρευση με ημίμετρα,όπως για παράδειγμα με την εφαρμογή σταθεροποιητικών προγραμμάτων ισοπεδωτικής λιτότητας,τότε το μόνο που θα επιτύχουμε είναι η περαιτέρω σύνθλιψη των οικονομικά ασθενέστερων τάξεων και η ματαίωση τις προοπτικής για καλύτερες μέρες,που δε θα έλθουν ποτέ και για κανέναν!Επομένως αν κρίνουμε εκ του αποτελέσματος τη σοσιαλιστική ουτοπία του πρόσφατου παρελθόντος,θα καταλήξουμε στο συμπέρασμα ότι πρέπει να ψάξουμε αλλού για νέα ιδεοπολιτικά ερείσματα για να σχεδιάσουμε το οικονομικό και πολιτικό μας μέλλον.Από του σημείου αυτού και εξής η οποιαδήποτε ερμηνεία των δεδομένων που οδήγησαν σ'αυτό το αποτέλεσμα δεν αναιρεί τα ίδια τα γεγονότα και δυστυχώς δεν αφήνει περιθώρια για μια δεύτερη απόπειρα επανάληψης ενός πειράματος,το οποίο από γοητευτικό έως ονειρικό,που ήταν στην αρχή ,κατέληξε να γίνει εφιάλτης με την αλβανοποίηση των οικονομιών των πρώην Σοβιετικών Δημοκρατιών!
Θέλετε να αποδώσουμε ευθύνες στα πρόσωπα;Θέλετε να καταδικάσουμε επιμέρους επιλογές και αποφάσεις;Το βέβαιο είναι ότι η υπεροψία του κεφαλαίου σήμερα εκπηγάζει από την εξαφάνιση του αντίπαλου δέους,που λειτουργεί μάλιστα και σαν «μπαμπούλας»,όταν κάποιοι νοσταλγοί επιχειρούν να το ανασύρουν ως εφεδρική προοπτική για την αντιμετώπιση των τρεχόντων προβλημάτων.Έτσι τα κοινοβουλευτικά κόμματα που συνεχίζουν να έχουν ορθόδοξη μαρξιστική ιδεολογία,μπορεί να έχουν λογικές πρακτικής δράσης,που έχουν και αυτές την αξία τους σαν μέσα πίεσης,αδυνατούν όμως να διεισδύσουν στις πλατιές λαϊκές μάζες,γιατί έχουν χάσει αυτό που λέμε «έξωθεν καλή μαρτυρία».Και για να μη μακρυγορούμε:Χωρίς να αγνοούμε επιδεικτικά το πρόσφατο αριστερό πρόσωπο της ουτοπίας,είναι καιρός να παραδεχτούμε ότι το κοινωνικοοικονομικό μοντέλο ανάπτυξης, που επιχείρησε ιστορικά να εφαρμόσει ο σοσιαλισμός ,ήταν αδιέξοδο!Ο Παράδεισος δεν ήλθε ποτέ «επί γης»!Αντίθετα,οικοδομήθηκε ένα καταπιεστικό πλαίσιο λειτουργίας της οικονομίας,που συντήρησε τελικά τις κοινωνικές αδικίες και αν μη τι άλλο δεν οδήγησε στην ανάπτυξη.Και τι ακολούθησε;Η κατάρρευση,οι συνακόλουθες αποκρατικοποιήσεις,η επιδείνωση της φτώχιας και η επικράτηση των πλέον ανήθικων κονόνων της οικονομίας της αγοράς!

"Kaddish to the life not lived"

2012-01-20T00:19:00.000-08:00

"Kaddish to the life not lived"

The Theatrical Scheme of Leonidas and Eftihia Loizidis presents for

the first time the mourning dialogue of a young soon to die Jew Sarah,

for the life that she would not live next to the man she loved, for

the children she would not hold in her arms, for the simple, everyday

dreams that she will leave unfulfilled at the discrimination camp of

the Jews Auschwitz-Birgenaou by writter Michalis Kokkinaris and

translator Despina Kontaxis,FEATURING OUTSTANDING ACTRESS EFTYCHIA PAPADOPOULOU LOIZIDIS,

DIRECTED AND PRODUCED BY AWARD WINNER LEONIDAS LOIZIDIS

KADDISH TO THE LIFE NOT LIVED (I DID NOT LIVE)

A redemptive monologue, of a young Jewish woman, who was hung at Auschwitz-Birgenaou; a monologue dedicated to the children of Jews who will never be born!

-The Jewish Holocaust during WWII in the Nazi extermination camps and the attempted demise of a nation/ race, (the name of) the Nazi ideology for humans and subhumans, should not be regarded as an isolated event, which deals only with conditions that prevailed in Europe at that time.

The preservation of historical memory of the Holocaust is the only way to protect humanity from the creeping threat of recurrence of the same or similar event because the causes that gave birth to it, have not ceased to exist, and unfortunately they feed movements and behaviors, with extreme views, wearing “the cloak” of freedom of expression.

It is towards this disrespect of the memory of millions Jewish victims of human intolerance (in the literal sense), that we should (enforce) the knowledge on this event, which marred the history of mankind.

The young man, the man of all times has to know what happened then at the extermination camps of the Jews by the German Nazis.

This is the only way one can have an opinion about the Holocaust and fight consciously shouting just "Never again!"

KADDISH TO THE LIFE I DID NOT LIVE

To millions of young children, adolescents, teenagers, young women and men who did not live to have children and see them grow up.

To millions of men and women who died in a brutal way and became ashes to not exist!

But someone must reproduce the distress, the emotional pain towards extermination and death, for us to be able to be redeemed as humans and consciously shout "Never again!"

KADDISH TO THE LIFE I DID NOT LIVE

The wail of a young Jewish woman, who in a few hours will be executed, because she helped in the uprising of the Greek Jews in Auschwitz-Birgkenaou in October 1944, for the life she will not live, for the children she will not have.

A life that will start from the wedding, she will never have, the birth of her first child, she will never give. All of this (will be presented) inside a monologue full of redemption, as the viewer will realize the actual dimension of the Holocaust: The annihilation of millions of people, not enriching humanity with the life that was robbed from them.

KADDISH TO THE LIFE I DID NOT LIVE

A monologue dedicated to the unborn children of Jews who perished in the Holocaust, for the songs that they sang to be heard, and their voices, who were silenced forever.

KADDISH TO THE LIFE I DID NOT LIVE

To bring (make known) a unique resistance event to light of the Greek Jews, who faced their executioners unarmed, blew up a crematorium and disabled another, singing the Greek national anthem and waving the Greek flag from rags.

Candice-life not lived.

The answer and the ideological shield against the blurred ideologies that attempt to deny or alter the size of the crime committed in the Holocaust against the Jews.

THE LEONIDAS & EFTYCHIA LOIZIDIS THEATRE GROUP PRESENTS
KADDISH TO THE LIFE NOT LIVED

BY AUTHOR MICHAEL KOKKINARIS

TRANSLATION BY DESPOINA KONTAXIS

FEATURING OUTSTANDING ACTRESS
EFTYCHIA PAPADOPOULOU LOIZIDIS

DIRECTED AND PRODUCED BY AWARD WINNER

LEONIDAS LOIZIDIS

COMING 2012 OFF BROADWAY AND WORLD TOUR

קנדיס החיים לא חי.

2012-01-15T08:20:00.001-08:00

Michael Kokkinaris
קנדיס בחיים לא חיו.

מונולוג הגואל, צעירים יהודים, אשר נתלה באושוויץ-Birgkenaou המוקדש לילדים יהודים שמעולם לא ייוולד!

, שואת היהודים במלחמת העולם השנייה במחנות ההשמדה הנאצים ניסו להשמיד אנשים, שמו של האידיאולוגיה הנאצית על בני אדם אנושיים, לא צריך להיות כאל אירוע מבודד, אשר עוסק רק התנאים ששררו באירופה באותה תקופה.

שימור הזיכרון ההיסטורי של השואה היא הדרך היחידה להגן על האנושות מפני איום זוחל להישנות של אירוע זהה או דומה כי הגורמים שהולידה לא לעצור שם נמאס לצערי עם תנועות קיצוניות והתנהגויות, לובש את הגלימה של חופש הביטוי.

מעבר הכניסו לתוך זה כבוד לזכרם של מיליוני הקורבנות היהודים של סובלנות אנושית (במובן המילולי) צריך להתנגד ידע על האירוע הזה, אשר השחיתו את ההיסטוריה של האנושות.

הצעיר, האיש בכל עונה יש לדעת מה קרה לאחר מכן למחנות ההשמדה של היהודים על ידי הגרמנים הנאצים.

אז רק אחת יכולה להיות דעה על השואה ונלחם במודע רק צועק "לעולם לא עוד!"

קנדיס החיים לא חי!

מיליוני ילדים, מתבגרים, בני נוער, נשים צעירות וגברים שלא לחיות להביא ילדים לעולם ולראות אותם גדלים.

מיליוני גברים ונשים שמתו באכזריות ואפר לא היו קיימים!

אבל מישהו חייב לשחזר את המצוקה, הכאב הרגשי כלפי ההרס והמוות יוכלו להיגאל כמו אנשים במודע לצעוק "לעולם לא עוד!"

קנדיס החיים לא חי!

יללת יהודי צעיר בתוך שעות ספורות לרוץ כי זה עזר ההתקוממות של היהודים באושוויץ, Birgkenaou באוקטובר 1944, על החיים שתחיה עבור ילדים שלא יעשה.

שהחיים יתחילו מהחתונה, אשר לעולם לא יהיה, לידת הילד הראשון, מי ייתן pote.Ki הלידה כל בתוכך מונולוג הגאולה, כי הצופה יהיה לממש את המימד הקריטי של השואה: השמדת מיליוני אנשים, לא להעשיר את האנושות עם החיים כי נשדד.

קנדיס החיים לא חי.

מונולוג המוקדש לילדים שטרם נולדו של יהודים שנספו בשואה nakoustoun את השירים שהם שרו את קולם הושתק לנצח.

קנדיס החיים לא חי.

כדי להפוך התנגדות אירוע ייחודי ידוע של יהודים, שעמדו התליינים שלהם בלתי חמושים אותם, פוצצו משרפה ולבטל אחר, לשיר את ההמנון הלאומי היווני דגלים היוונית מסמרטוטים.

קנדיס החיים לא חי.

התשובה ואת המגן האידיאולוגי נגד האידיאולוגיות מטושטשת כי ניסיון להכחיש או לשנות את גודל הפשע בשואה של היהודים.
www.loizidis.com

Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα!

2012-01-15T08:13:00.000-08:00

THE LEONIDAS & EFTYCHIA LOIZIDIS THEATRE GROUP PRESENTS
KADDISH TO THE LIFE NOT LIVED

BY AUTHOR MICHAEL KOKKINARIS

FEATURING OUTSTANDING ACTRESS
EFTYCHIA PAPADOPOULOU LOIZIDI

DIRECTED AND PRODUCED
BY AWARD WINNER
LEONIDAS LOIZIDIS

COMING 2012 OFF BROADWAY AND WORLD TOUR

WWW.LOIZIDIS.COM

Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα.

Ένας λυτρωτικός μονόλογος,νεαρής εβραίας,που απαγχονίστηκε στο Άουσβιτς-Μπιργκενάου, αφιερωμένος στα παιδιά των εβραίων που δε θα γεννηθούν ποτέ!

-Το Ολοκαύτωμα των Εβραίων κατά τη διάρκεια του Β΄Παγκόσμιου Πολέμου στα ναζιστικά στρατόπεδα εξόντωσης και η απόπειρα αφανισμού ενός λαού,το όνομα της ναζιστικής ιδεολογίας για ανθρώπους και υπανθρώπους,δεν πρέπει να θεωρείται ως ένα μεμονωμένο γεγονός,που έχει να κάνει απλώς με τις συνθήκες που επικράτησαν στην Ευρώπη εκείνη την περίοδο.

Η συντήρηση της ιστορικής μνήμης του Ολοκαυτώματος είναι η μοναδική οδός προστασίας της ανθρωπότητας από την υφέρπουσα απειλή επανάληψης του ίδιου ή παρόμοιου γεγονότος επειδή τα αίτια που το γέννησαν δεν έχουν πάψει να υπάρχουν και δυστυχώς τροφοδοτούν με ακραίες απόψεις κινήματα και συμπεριφορές,που φορούν τον μανδύα της ελευθερίας έκφρασης άποψης.

Απέναντι σʼαυτήν την ασέβεια στη μνήμη εκατομμυρίων εβραίων θυμάτων της ανθρώπινης μισαλλοδοξίας(με την κυριολεκτική έννοια του όρου) πρέπει να αντιτάξουμε τη γνώση γιʼαυτό το γεγονός,που αμαύρωσε την ιστορία της ανθρωπότητας.

Ο νέος άνθρωπος,ο άνθρωπος κάθε εποχής, πρέπει να γνωρίζει τι έγινε τότε στα στρατόπεδα εξόντωσης των Εβραίων από του γερμανούς ναζί.

Έτσι μόνο κάποιος μπορεί να έχει άποψη για το Ολοκαύτωμα και να αγωνιστεί συνειδητά φωνάζοντας απλά «Ποτέ πια»!

-Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα!

Εκατομμύρια μικρά παιδιά,έφηβοι,έφηβες,νεαρές γυναίκες και άνδρες,που δεν έζησαν για να κάνουν παιδιά και να τα δουν να μεγαλώνουν.

Εκατομμύρια άνδρες και γυναίκες που πέθαναν με φρικτό τρόπο κι έγιναν στάχτη για να μην υπάρχουν!

Κάποιος όμως πρέπει να αναπαραγάγει την αγωνία τους,τον ψυχικό τους πόνο απέναντι στον αφανισμό και το θάνατο,για να μπορέσουμε να λυτρωθούμε ως άνθρωποι για να φωνάξουμε συνειδητά «Ποτέ πια»!

-Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα!

Ο θρήνος μιας νεαρής εβραίας που σε λίγες ώρες θα εκτελεστεί επειδή βοήθησε στην Εξέγερση των Ελλήνων Εβραίων στο Άουσβιτς-Μπιργκενάου ,τον Οκτώβριο του 1944,για τη ζωή που δε θα ζήσει,για τα παιδιά που δε θα κάνει.

Μια ζωή που θα ξεκινήσει από το γάμο της,που δε θα γίνει ποτέ,με την γέννηση του πρώτου παιδιού της,που δε θα γεννήσει ποτέ.Κι όλα αυτά μέσα σʼένα λυτρωτικό μονόλογο,γιατί ο θεατής θα συνειδητοποιήσει την ουσιαστική διάσταση του Ολοκαυτώματος:Τον αφανισμό εκατομμυρίων ανθρώπων,που δεν πλούτισαν την ανθρωπότητα με τη ζωή που τους στέρησαν.

-Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα.

Ένας μονόλογος αφιερωμένος στα αγέννητα παιδιά των εβραίων που εξοντώθηκαν στο Ολοκαύτωμα,για νʼακουστούν τα τραγούδια που δεν τραγούδησαν και οι φωνές τους που σίγησαν για πάντα.

-Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα.

Για να γίνει γνωστό ένα μοναδικό γεγονός αντίστασης των ελλήνων εβραίων,που άοπλοι αντιμετώπισαν τους δημίους τους,ανατίναξαν ένα κρεματόριο και αχρήστεψαν ένα άλλο,ψάλλοντας τον ελληνικό εθνικό ύμνο και ανεμίζοντας ελληνική σημαία από κουρέλια.

-Καντίς στη ζωή που δεν έζησα.

Η απάντηση και η ιδεολογική θωράκιση απέναντι στις θολές ιδεολογίες που επιχειρούν να αρνηθούν ή να αλλοιώσουν το μέγεθος του εγκλήματος που διαπράχθηκε με το Ολοκαύτωμα των Εβραίων.

2012-01-14T05:40:00.001-08:00

Dying in Alexandria

Love and solitude in the diverse lives of two women who lived in different eras.

Treatment

In the foundations of a newly-erected building in Alexandria, Egypt, a crypt was accidentally found containing the remains of a young woman who had lived in the late Roman Period (around 250 AD.), the body of whom had been wrapped in white linen fabric which had preserved her memoirs written in large Greek characters.
The archaeologist who received the findings, Dr. Karim Ahmandi of the Archaeological Museum of Cairo, was so taken by the paper mask of such unique artistry which had been placed on her face, as well as the memoirs of Leukothea, the woman from Alexandria who still had the power to captivate after so many thousands of years, that he decided to seek the help of experts to determine the cause of her death and to digitally reproduce her hologram.
The forensic doctor, Sarah MacLeine of the Forensic Services in London, and the professor of Computer Science, Miltos Anastasiades, will be the first characters in our story whose lives will be changed by the ‘presence’ of Leukothea, that young woman who had felt the need to record on her shroud her thoughts on the meaning of life and death, of love and solitude, aiming chiefly to leave the mark of her thoughts to her beloved Lamachos, a painter who had attempted through his art to represent the soul of the people that he depicted in his portraits (the characteristic ‘logic’ of the painters who preserved the portraits of Fayum).
And the interesting part is that Leukothea’s memoirs was not the diary of a forbidden love (Lamachos was the husband of her mother’s sister), but testimony to the freedom of thought of a person who had the strength, in spite of appearances, to touch on the real scale of human relationships which affirm the loneliness of our individuality.
Nevertheless, the archaeologist will change his mind in the course of things and will request that the investigation, both of Macleine and of Anastasiades, be cancelled on the grounds that the mosaic that had covered the crypt of Leukothea revealed the existence of a second tomb while it contained an encrypted curse of death on anyone who disturbed the peace of the dead!
The second tomb must have belonged to the painter, who had perhaps been offered condolences by the contractor of the site who died suddenly a few days later of a massive haemorrhage.
The forensic doctor, wanting to convince herself that the threats of Ahmandi concerning whoever disturbed the peace of the dead were just a trick on his part to achieve fame, as well as because deep down inside, she wanted to assure herself that the life of Miltos, with whom she feels that she is in love, is not in danger, goes to Cairo to gather information on the real cause of the contrator’s death. She is, however, overwhelmed by uncertainty when the driver of the excavating equipment also died while working on the foundations of the site in Alexandria and during whose autopsy it proved impossible to determine the cause of the massive haemorrhage.

(2)
But Miltos, too, who in turn tries not to reveal the fact that he is in love with Sarah while his marriage is going through difficulties, in his anguish that Ahmandi might have been right, is ready to go to Cairo to find out exactly what is happening.
The forensic doctor eventually comes up with a theory for what is happening exactly, which is confirmed by the sudden death from massive haemorrhage in London of an eccentric collector, Andrew Sheffer, in whose computer files was found the telephone number of Karim Ahmandi… of the Archaeological Museum of Cairo…
Ahmandi, of-course, never dealt illegally in antiquities. He had simply offered to purchase the ‘mummy’ of Lamachos, Leukothea’s beloved painter, which had been removed to England illegally, in order to return it to the Museum to ‘rest in peace’ beside the woman he had loved!
But before the transaction could be completed, Sheffer died of massive haemorrhage.. and Ahmandi had… convincing evidence of the power of the curse on those who disturbed the peace of Lamachos and Leukothea.
Nevertheless, with the help of Scotland Yard, MacLeine will prove that the cause of death of so many people was not in fact due to Lamachos’ curse, but some poison with which the mummy had been saturated…
Ahmandi refuses to accept this version of events and when Sarah discovers the real reason for his refusal, the archaeologist will ‘wish’ upon her the same fate as all those who have disturbed the peace of the dead.

* * *

A year later, whereas Miltos Anastasiades has come to terms with the fact that he must live without MacLeine, he receives a call from her which is the ‘solution’ to the story.
Sarah has leukemia and wants to ‘leave’ with dignity having next to her the man who had given meaning to her life, Miltos, and who will be witness to the most extreme scenario that only real life can write.

* * *

(3)

Extract from ‘The Memories of Leukothea’

After the burial of Eriphylle, my mother felt that she could not go on living anymore.
The ‘absence’ of my sister must have been unbearable for her.
We live in a world determined by the god Horus[1] only once, and God forbid if that one and only time is immersed in misery!
Thus Hypatia decided to die.
And the one who would have to impress her image on the shroud in which her body would be wrapped was, once again, Lamachos.
Under normal circumstances I should hate that person.
He was the herald to the loss of my loved-ones.
How silly I am!
‘Loss of my loved-ones…’
Whereas we all know that sooner or later Osiris[2] will welcome us into his realm, we insist on ‘exorcising’ him as if he will ever cease to exist.
Let it be Lamachos then, the man who attracted my attention from the moment I laid eyes on him.
This time, though, I am determined to become part of his life, his mind, even if he pretends to be indifferent!
Hypatia’s melancholy will not deter me from making him notice me, or to be more precise, from forcing him to show his interest in me.
When at last my mother had set aside the jewellery that she would ‘wear’ on her image, Lamachos again chose the brightest time of day in which to draw an out-line of her.
I remained watching from the shadows, what I would never allow to happen to me.
I never again wanted to hear Lamachos’ words, which the second time had been like a blow to the stomach.
“You may look at me, Hypatia, but you do not see me…
I want you to see the images in your mind, the world where you will go and live…[3]”
Silently I approached the spot where he was standing and brought my lips so close to the nape of his neck that he must have been able to feel my breath.
He was incredibly attractive at such close quarters and what I had done had been incredibly bold, both on my part but also for Hypatia who, nevertheless, had immersed herself in the world where she anticipated meeting Eriphylle.
Then I whispered to him:
“Do you want to make me believe that you are going to ‘paint’ Hypatia’s soul?”
“Her soul is her eyes… with them I will render her spirit… as long as she is ready…”
I was about to leave, but then I had second thoughts.
It was my only chance to finally be assured that I meant something in Lamachos’ life.
I leant over once more and whispered:
“You mean, if I let you paint my eyes, you’ll be able to ‘read’ my soul?”
(4)

Hypatia appears tired and wants to stop for today
“Like I said the other time: I can ‘read’ your eyes but have difficulty in rendering them because I’m afraid I won’t do them justice, and likewise, your soul, which probably does not intend to remain imprisoned in an ephemeral body…”
So the body is ephemeral and the soul eternal!
The same words that I had once heard from the lips of Sergius, my father, who had never ceased reiterating his admiration for Plotinus[4].
Anyway, I’m grateful to Plotinus.
If it hadn’t been for him, and for Sergius’ certitude that he was his true follower, I would have never learned to read and write!
In this way he taught me to write, in order to copy his writings.
Six nines, six years of discussing issues that my father surely did not understand, but had the certitude of knowing them precisely as Plotinus had formulated them!
Until the poor man had died suddenly before having the time to tell me his final wishes as to the fate of all that papyrus which Hypatia had unfortunately handed over to the embalmers to stuff her husband’s body with.
Of-course I would not have dared raise any objection, since she had never found out that I had learned to read and write!
And a little while before Lamachos left that day, I took the first step in prompting him to express his feelings.
Appearing to be willing to help him with his easels and his pigments, I pretended to tidy up, when I whispered to him as our eyes met:
“Do you want the truth… Uncle Lamachos? I don’t think you can read my soul, that’s why you have difficulty in drawing my eyes.”
His answer verified my theory that the compulsion of the soul is insurmountable:
“I beg you, Leukothea, is it not enough that you have provoked me from the moment that I met you?”
“It is not enough for me, Lamachos, and that is the most difficult thing of all…”
“As for your soul… I will read it one day in your eyes…”
At that moment I wanted to run into his arms, become one with him, and fortunately I didn’t do it, because everything would have been more difficult for me and for him…
With Lamachos, though, it wasn’t the idea of physical union that possessed me.
At least it wasn’t the main cause of my confusion when I saw him.
And when I found out that Arsinoe, the courtesan, had asked him to paint him in the nude because that was how she wanted Osiris to see her on the long journey of escape from the world of the living, not for a moment was I jealous.
Lust is an affliction.
Suffering for the unfulfilled desire to ‘couple’ with the other to overcome what you’ve always suspected but do not want to admit.
That you are, and will always remain alone, however many times you unite momentarily with the body of the other.
The moment of parting is the confirmation of your absolute solitude.
That’s why it wasn’t what I wanted from Lamachos.
Don’t imagine, of-course, that I was indifferent to love, when I was alive.
Quite the contrary. In fact, Eriphylle and I had learned the mysteries of love from two young female slaves, whom my father had bought to help us around the house.
(5)

Pretexts…
Sergius had learned the pleasures of the ports and had refused to make do with only Hepatia, who had lately began to think mainly about life after death…
And so he had found these young beings, bought them, and since they were experienced in the art of love, showered them with gifts so as to keep their mouths shut.
Do you want my opinion?
That’s how he had understood life, and that’s how he had lived!
Of-course, Eriphylle and I would giggle about his antics and that’s as far as it went.
Nevertheless, what I had wanted from Lamachos was not to become his mistress.
I wanted to become part of the life of a man who through his art sought the incorruptible, that which is left untouched by the relentless ravages of time.
And if it was possible, through the love of the eternal and the imperishable, I would experience its expression with my human senses, which attempt to describe what has never been described.

* * *

[1] Horus – the Sun-God.
[2] Osiris – is above all the god of Death, but also the god of after-death immortality.
[3] The Fayum Portraits are works that imitate certain forms in an attempt to record first of all resemblance and also to allude to the spiritual world of the person depicted. G. Kordie, The Portraits of Fayum and the Byzantine Icon, Armos, Athens 2001, page 23 onwards.
[4] Plotinus – Instigator of Neoplatonism, the most important philosophical movement of the late Roman Period, born in Egypt in the 3rd century A.D.

Οι βεβαιότητες μια κοινωνίας.

2011-12-30T09:36:00.000-08:00

Όταν καταρρέουν οι βεβαιότητες μιας κοινωνίας,αυτό που κυριαρχεί είναι η αντινομία της ανθρώπινης φύσης.Σκεφτείτε σοβαρά τι θ'απομείνει αν αποδομήσουμε έννοιες,αξίες θεσμούς,που πριν απο λίγο είχαν συνεκτικό ρόλο στην κοινωνία μας;
Αν έχετε αποθέματα αντιστάσεων,ενωθείτε σε μια διαρκή φωνή διαμαρτυρίας όχι με στόχο
το ανάθεμα και το λιθοβολισμό.
Μην πετάτε πέτρες.
Κρατήστε τις για να χτίσετε στη λήθη όσους ολοφάνερα σας εξαπατούν.
Φτωχαίνει καθημερινά η ζωή μας.
Παραδίδεται σ'αυτούς που φωνασκούν,απειλούν,βρίζουν,εξαπατούν.
Δε φταίνε όμως οι θεσμοί,οι συνεκτικές αξίες της κοινωνίας μας.
Εμείς φταίμε,που επιλέγουμε αυτούς που συμμαχούν με τους φωνασκούντες,τους υβριστές και τους εξαπατητές.
Ήρθε ο καιρός μας...Σκεφτείτε το!

Στα όρια της ανθρώπινης φαντασίας!

2011-12-26T04:06:00.000-08:00

Η φανταστική λογοτεχνία δεν είναι συνήθως καταβύθιση στις δαιδαλώδεις διαδρομές του φαντασιακού κόσμου,που υποκρύπτεται στην παρασκιά της λογικής!
Αρκεί φυσικά ο συγγραφέας να ελέγχει το παιχνίδι και να μην είναι υποχείριό του!
Έτσι η φανταστική λογοτεχνία αναδεικνύεται εργαλείο σκέψης και προβληματισμού.
Η Ατλαντίδα λοιπόν!
Ο πολιτισμός της.
Η πλατωνική ερμηνεία της ύπαρξης της Ατλαντίδας.
Όλα αυτά σ'ένα συνεχές αφήγημα,που τουλάχιστον έχει κάτι να προτείνει!

Proposal to any one who is interested for a unique movie.

2011-12-24T06:20:00.000-08:00

Proposal to any one who is interested for a unique movie.

2011-12-24T05:56:00.000-08:00

Idas,The Eleventh King of Atlantis
By Michael Kokkinaris

The simplistic rendition of the ‘myth’ of Atlantis by the American movie industry in the 50’s and 60’s has incited me to respond with a more complete work of fiction entitled ‘Idas the Great, The Eleventh King of Atlantis’, in which I decipher the indications that are present in the myths and geotechtonic history of America and the Mediterranean of a world that was suddenly and violently lost about 12500 years ago.
***
I ask to any one, therefore, to examine my proposed , which at least refrains from repeating the all too well-known cinematic themes, revealing a completely new world which could be the missing link between America and Europe almost thirteen thousand years before the birth of Christ!

Introduction

At that time then, 12 500 years ago, when not far from the western shores of Africa the island of Atlantis still existed and to the west of which lay the continent of America, the world as we know it today was completely different.
For example, the southwestern end of Europe with the peninsula of Tartisso ‘touched’ the western horn of Africa leaving only a narrow passage through which the people of Atlantis passed from the Atlantic Ocean with their ships to the Western Middle World and reached the Tyrrinic Sea laying the foundations of significant colonies in this enclosed body of water along the European as well as the African coasts.
They had also founded significant colonies on the eastern coast of the American continent, as well as on the three large islands which existed between the Atlantis and the American coast.
The Western Middle World had as its westernmost boundary the Tyrrinic Peninsula which stretched to the shores of Africa leaving there only a small marine passageway where the northwestern tip of Sicily lies today.
Immediately after that began the Pontus of the Eastern Middle World (today’s Eastern Mediterranean) dominated by Caftor (Crete), the state of which stretched south to the Nile river delta and east to the coast of today’s Palestine.
In the Eastern Pontus of the Middle World, apart from the Cretans, there were also the Pelasgeans whose state extended from today’s southern Greece and the Peloponnese to the Aegean Sea and the coast of today’s Asia Minor.
At first, the Pelasgeans had secured port facilities in Egypt, having a considerable presence in numerous trading posts and financial centers there. Nevertheless, the naval superiority of the Cretans limited their influence and forced them to concede to their domination in the region.
The people of Atlantis, however, had another way out to the Eastern Pontus of the Middle World; the interior sea of Tritonas, the bottom of which is today’s Sahara Desert.
The Tritonas Sea had two outlets; one on the coast of West Africa and the other in the region of the Nile River Delta which communicated with the Eastern Pontus of the Middle World.
And we must always bear in mind when we read the novel that the total continental as well as island coastal regions which we know today in the Mediterranean extended, 12 500 years ago, 30% more at the expense of the sea, which was shallow at many points

Michael Kokkinaris

Idas the Great

The Eleventh King of Atlantis

The Final Days of the Mythical
Atlantis

Novel

* * *

1. Daniel Aurteuil

I met Daniel Aurteuil by chance.
That summer, at the beginning of June, I had been appointed to the position of rural G.P. in a village in Northern Evoia and Daniel had asked for my assistance, after having been stung by a bee.
What caught my attention from the first moment I saw him was neither his stature nor his condescending manner, but his incredible observance of whatever he heard, saw or imagined was present in the realm of the real or the hypothetical.
From the half-open door of the surgery, he had noticed as many titles as appeared in his field of vision and his first question had not been about the bee sting, but whether the books he could see were mine…
I nodded… and Daniel became a completely different person.
Daniel Aurteuil then…
A Frenchman from Bretagne in his sixties who had a lot to tell me about a world that had been lost in the watery oblivion of the sea many thousands of years ago, but whose roots remained in the very earth on which we were standing today.
Until then, however, many more things would have to come to pass than the simple remark that in my bookcase I had ‘Homer’ and the ‘Tora ’ together, as if it were something completely natural for any reader…
So when I prescribed the medicine and the instructions for Daniel and I suggested seeing him again if anything changed, he insisted that I allow him to return to the village in the afternoon so that we could have a coffee together.
Having no reason to refuse, I accepted.
Anyway, in the first days of having taken up my post, I was feeling strange.
I was a rural G.P. in a small village without really knowing what it meant, not only for me, but for all those who had been convinced that whatever happened to them, they were safe… merely with the presence of the country doctor!
Nevertheless, one rarely feels the need to stand these ‘certainties’, on which we base our way of life, to reason… until… if… a chance occurrence puts them to the test in practice…
It is, however, of utmost importance to admit that almost everything is based on certainties which function like the adhesive substance which binds a piece of furniture.
And, indeed, as the years go by, even the carpenter himself no longer remembers the joinery and the glue that he used!
And these certainties are so deeply rooted in the human conscience that in the end they are one and the same and become part of our heredity.
So ‘coffee’ with Daniel Aurteuil was a first attempt on his part to get to know me better.
He, of-course, had his reasons and I naturally had none that were of such importance, apart from the natural need to feel that I could talk to someone…
I felt, however, that Aurteuil was testing me as if I were a student… in high-school.
He wanted me to know that he had a pub in Bretagne and that every summer he traveled in Europe for a month, following his instinct as he told me, to find what he wanted…
What he wanted…
We are all in search of something until the last moment of our lives.
The only thing is that it is ultimately very difficult to recognize it, even if we come across it…
That’s why I almost envy all those who live in the heat of the deception that they have finally touched on what they were seeking.
If, indeed, they become witnesses to their ‘certainties’ then they virtually touch on happiness.
Yet on that afternoon I wasn’t able to understand what Daniel was in search of that took him on his travels in Europe.
As for me, apart from my personal ‘certainties’, what was certain was that not only could I read ‘Homer’, but the ‘Tora’ from the original Hebrew as… was ascertained by the examination…
The only problem was that I didn’t speak French which made it difficult for Daniel to make his thoughts clear to me.
You see, everyone in the café took notice of the tourist talking to the doctor about matters to which they were completely indifferent because they were of interest from the moment their own doctor was sitting opposite the Frenchman, giving him answers to his questions!
Strictly speaking, however, the game wasn’t being played that way.
Aurteuil wanted mainly to give and not to take…
He wanted to give whatever he knew, or at least whatever he was able to ‘read’ on the hundreds of plaques which he had inherited from his parents.
And what were these plaques?
The refutation of everything that constituted our historical certainties.
A never-ending tale about a world that was lost without leaving a mark of its presence on earth.
And these plaques?
What can I say?
A prank?
Perhaps!
Daniel Aurteuil may have been a compulsive liar, or some megalomaniac, who had decided to ‘fabricate’ a story to make an impression.
Nonetheless, he had ensured that the story ‘tied in’ well with the plaques.
When he was finally in the position to spell out the ancient writing and he understood that he was standing in front of a huge discovery he cleverly made sure to ‘date’ his texts.
He simply ‘sacrificed’ a large piece of a plaque which he presented as a chance finding to the Regional Archeological Council of Bordeaux.
The dating was impressive…
‘It concerns limestone plaques engraved with an unknown alphabet, probably linear writing, which must be at least twelve thousand years old!’
From this point on he had had to wait for the ‘incident’ to be forgotten.
The discovery was his. The plaques belonged to him.
However, the actual story belonged to everyone and Aurteuil didn’t give a hoot about it.
I listened to him giving an account of all this and I still hadn’t understood why he was telling me…
Nobody knows what happened twelve thousand years ago and what the world was like then.
Consequently, if some people had existed then who had knowledge of the written word and they had had the foresight to engrave the chronicles of their times in stone, then that would change a lot of things...
Daniel looks at me in an aggressive manner and tells me,
‘Nothing would change, doctor… people would still be the same… filled with greed and pettiness… even if they knew that in a few instants they would cease to exist…’
‘And what do you want from me, Daniel Aurteuil?’
‘For you to read the plaques as well… they are written in the original alphabet of your language… it shouldn’t be difficult for you to find the key to that language…’
‘And then?’
‘Create a story… that I will allow you…’
‘It won’t be a story, but a fairy-tale…’
‘Well then, I hadn’t thought of it… a fairy-tale…
My friend, perhaps then some people will be able to believe it.
People only believe in fairy-tales…
They’re afraid of the truth… they reject it…’
Aurteuil left for France a few days later and I was left with the impression that everything had been a well-planned lie… until the parcel arrived…
The parcel with the photographs of an incredible story, which took me years to ‘read’…
And it was so simple… provided that I overcame my certainties of knowledge, which was in fact the greatest hurdle, so as to be able to see clearly that history did not start when we had been told it had started…
So if you want to learn about the beginning of history, then read on…
This is what was engraved in stone by Apollodorus, son of Alkinos of Tritonia Talo, a city which vanished like thousands of other cities and countless people, as a sacrifice to Poseidon’s fury, when the Ocean swallowed the land of Atlantis forever…

* * *

In the monologue that follows, the now old Apollodorus takes the decision, a little while before he dies, to record the story of Idas, the Eleventh King of Atlantis which is at the same time the story of a luminous world which was lost suddenly to the depths of the sea… due to the fury of Poseidon.

2. Memory and Oblivion

Man’s greatest enemy is oblivion.
Forgetting all those who have lived before us, as mortal as we are, and denying right to the very end what the gods have in store for man.
And I wonder, as the turnings of the heavenly bodies give measure to my dwindling life, if there is any point in carving in stone or in baked clay what I have seen, what surely no other living mortal, not even in his wildest dreams, has ever imagined.
Then, there’s a limit to what man can reasonably accept as true for he has surely learned to think according to what his senses have defined and what he has managed to contrive based on what the gods allow mortals to understand.
Yet I’m afraid that if I die or lose my mind, what no mortal will ever be able to experience will be lost forever as the rapacious birds feed on my meager flesh.
But if I finally take this decision to let my memory guide my hand on its travels, frankly, I wonder if ever someone else were to understand my writings, whether in time on the higher peaks that were spared the fury of Poseidon other people would come to settle!
One, however, should never be absolute in his judgement, because life has the power of being reborn from the merest stones, which will one day become human beings and then they will have to know what possible heights can be attained by their greatness!
And I, Apollodorus, son of Alkinos and Tritonia Talo, mortal and corruptible, must make the decision to narrate the story of a king, Idas, the Eleventh King of Atlantis, with whom I accidentally found myself traveling to the ends of Eastern Pontus of the Middle World, where no one from Atlantis had ever been spurred on by Fate to go.
And as my hand etches his story on the stone plaques and the images from my experiences come to life, what saddens me most of all is the incomprehensible harshness of Poseidon in making so many proud generations of people disappear!
And I, a stranger among strangers, am doomed to live in memory of my previous life which has absolutely no connection and bears no resemblance to that of today.
If, then, some time in the future, some one is capable of uttering the meanings of the words which are carved onto these stone plaques, they should know that none of what they are to read is an exaggeration, but the truth about a world that was lost in but a moment owing to the fury of Poseidon!

* * *

3. The Succession

The day that Klito gave birth to Kouritis and Idas, King Eudaimonas could never have imagined that he would have to sow the seeds of discord between his sons by giving his first-born the scepter, which he had inherited in the same customary fashion from the head-man, Atlantas.
And if he could have unraveled the thread of this story from the beginning again, he would have killed with his own bare hands the nurses who had assisted the pregnant Klito, so that they would carry with them to the dark kingdom of Hades their testimony that one of his two sons had first seen the light of the life-giving sun!
And now, as the time for the Assembly of the Kings drew near, he himself would have to sow hatred between his children, neither of which he had ever singled out according to who had been born first.
And this time he would have to decide and to hand over the power given by god to his first- born son, himself unable to embark on the ships bound for Pontos and to fight the Celts who were looting the country of Iberia, shamelessly reaching the coastal cities of Oceanis and then disappearing into the shadowy forests where they lived, dragging with them the cream of Atlantis’ youths and maidens.
Yet none of the other kings could understand his dilemma.
The law is the law and anyone who breaks it is condemned to death.
The power belonged by rights to Kouritis who was the first-born.
But in this case injustice would have been done Idas, whom it seemed Fate had endowed with more gifts than anyone else.
And he would have to remain forever in his brother’s shadow, perhaps as a general, if the Assembly of the Kings so decided.

* * *

As the heavy door of the temple closed, the voice of King Mistras, second in the order of the Kingdom of Atlantis, has the metallic sound of the waves that roll the pebbles to the shores where Poseidon comes to rest:
‘King Eudaimonas, we want you to know that we all honor you and understand your dilemma. And if I had to decide, I would suffer the same torture that you do considering the virtues of each of my twin off-spring.
Nevertheless, the law is the law and we are bound to respect it if we do not wish to provoke the wrath of the sun-god Poseidon.
So let the gate of the temple open to allow the bulls to enter and when we sacrifice the one that He indicates to us, we will judge for you, making the decision which will be the final one.’

* * *

Eudaimonas seems to be unsettled when faced with what in the end appears to be inevitable and if someone were capable of reading the fears in his soul, they would have been taken aback by what was torturing the elderly king.
He was almost certain that the Assembly of the Kings, even before Poseidon’s sacrificial bull had been slaughtered in order to preserve Kouritis’ succession intact, would force him to sacrifice Idas one way or another, sending him to exile in the land where the Ocean came to rest on his return from distant voyages.
Just a few moments later the podium was given over to King Elashippos whose sharp judgement was known to all, as well as his gift for foretelling what the future held:
‘Kings of Atlantis, sons of the great Poseidon, if the Realm of Atlantis dominates the lands where the sea of the Middle World gives way to the unexplored continent which lies east of the River Nile, you must know that this is not due to the weapons lacking from the other peoples who are now subjected to the power of Poseidon, but to the unerring abidance, to this day, of the laws which are engraved on the bronze-cast pillar of God.
And if you wish our state to prevail, you must never forget this…
As for the succession of King Eudaimonas, the only thing which perhaps you should bear in mind when the time comes for the decision, is that the moment of Idas’ birth coincided with the appearance of the star Cynas on the horizon , an omen manifesting the coming of a great king to the land of Atlantis.
And this should ultimately be our dilemma, which for the first time brings us in conflict with what has been irrevocably defined by law about the succession of a king!’

* * *

Scarcely a moment had passed when the light of the sun disappeared and the flame burning on the altar a God flickered in the whirlwind which appeared to have sprung from the feet of the six winged horses of Poseidon and caused the hundred Nereides, standing motionless below the statue of the Sea God on the same number of dolphins, to close their eyes in fear of their creator who would surely inflict calamity on the mindless mortals.
Afterwards, everything appeared illuminated by a thousand streaks of lightning which set it upon themselves to give life to the bronze figures of the statues that seemed to want to flee the altars to which they had been attached around the pillars of the temple with such superfluous craftsmanship
And at the same moment, through the heavy, half-open door, the bulls surged in like a nightmare; they had been released according to custom to sharpen their horns on the bronze paving of the temple until one of them was to be sacrificed to the Sea God.
However, the animals were defeated by the very same fear that had overwhelmed the Kings of Atlantis, giving in to their fate, unable to fight whoever approached them bringing death.
That’s why when King Gadeiros, the youngest of them all, raised a sharpened dagger to the first bull that presented itself to him, the animal submitted without a struggle to what was destined to happen.
The golden chalices were filled with wine and the blood from the slaughter and all the sacrificial altars were lit so that the various members of the bull could be received by their voracious flames.
And when everything had been carried out as required by custom, while slowly sipping wine and blood from the slaughter, the Kings swore each one in turn in front of the law-enforcing pillar of Poseidon that they would defend with their own blood all that would be considered final by dawn.
Only King Eudaimonas lost courage as he pronounced the heavy oath beneath the statue of the Sun God, by then being certain that there was no way he could escape His law.
And when the ceremony was over, they all donned the blue robes of judgement, extinguished the altar fires and began one by one to unravel the thoughts that had led him to the decision that he had taken on the succession of King Eudaimonas

* * *
.
Last of all spoke Euinoras, lord of the eastern lands, from where the Pontos-bound ships set sail for the ocean of Tartissos, being himself in command of the ships selected to secure the naval passageways which led to the sea of the Middle World, for he was a tough man just like his father Oceanus and his God, Poseidon.
Euinoras’ heavy voice mercilessly beat away any reservations the Kings might have had:
‘At dawn, Kouritis is to receive from the hands of King Eudaimonas the scepter which he has inherited from his father and Idas will have to leave this place forever…
This is my decision and whoever does not have the strength of conviction to confront Eudaimonas with the plain truth due to compassion, in my eyes is likely to become the instigator of great misfortune on the land of Atlantis.
Our state is founded on all that has been irrevocably foreseen by the law of God as far as the chosen heir is concerned and we should refuse to accept any other way of taking possession of the power that the royal scepter stands for. And whoever has made a passing attempt to do so in the past had either a harsh death in store for them or exile beyond the Iberian lands in the shadowy forests of the Northern Lands.
Idas has in his eyes the strength of those who are born to exert power over others.
If he remains in Poseidonia, he will sooner or later refuse to obey the orders of Kouritis…
And then we will be forced to sacrifice many of our people in order to restore the order that has been defined by God.

* * *

It is clear that old Eudaimonas no longer has the strength to deter his separation from his off-spring. Nobody in this gathering would be able to take on the responsibility for the future actions of a man, even if he were his own son.
Man’s nature is unpredictable and the power within him is difficult to determine.
And if one is to fear a beast, it is not one that roams around to satisfy its hunger, but the one that nestles in his very soul, and God forbid if it were to be released into the streets to chance upon other unfortunate people.’

* * *

The ensuing silence that prevails is the outcry of the decision made by the Assembly of the Kings of Atlantis to declare Kouritis heir to the scepter that Eudaimonas had inherited.
And as the first rays of the sun lit the shadowy visage of Poseidon, the old King Eudaimonas made his way to the statue of the God and for the last time placed before it his blue robes of judgement before making his return to relinquish the scepter of power to his first-born son Kouritis, and to await the Assembly of the Kings’ decision on the fate of Idas who had happened to be born second after his twin brother!

Notes:

This is an epic historical account with 83 scenes which centers on the life of Idas, the Eleventh King of Atlantis, who personalizes the narrative of Plato about Atlantis and its people.
Idas is ultimately the victim of Eimarmenis, a woman who cunningly manipulates both mortals and immortals alike.
All the other characters in the story participate in the narrative in order to attest to the dramatic events which climax in the destruction of Atlantis.
Queen Rianon, the slave Telesilla, Princess Phaedra, the red-skinned King Atlansindahou, King Enougou of Oufa, Minoas Lykastus, Minoas Lykauyis, the King of the Athenians Erechtheas and many other historic heroes come together in a narrative full of twists and turns and which at the same time renders the birth of the world that we have inherited after the destruction of Atlantis.
It would be worth taking note of the scene of the sinking of Atlantis which renders the enormous tidal wave that wiped out all the coastal cities of the Mediterranean while the rendition of the survival of the sole eye-witness, Apollodorus, from whose plaques we finally learned about Atlantis and Idas, is particularly inventive.

Summary of the novel

So, within the context of this geotectonic environment and granted the sovereignty of Atlantis in the Western Middle World but also on the Iberian Peninsula, are born the children of King Eudaimona, Kouritis and Idas, just a few moments apart, in the capital of Atlantis, Poseidonia. A few years later, the Counsel of Kings which governs Atlantis is called upon to approve the election of Kouritis to take the place of his father who had grown old because… well, simply because he was the first-born, but not necessarily the most capable.
In order to ensure that the succession remains uncontested, the Counsel exiles the young Idas beyond the Iberian Peninsula to Bourdigala (today Bordeaux) where in the past undesirables from Atlantis had been driven out in the hopes that they would be wiped out by the barbarian Celts who lived in the area and had mixed with the exiles.
Nonetheless, the young Idas will not only survive but will persuade the Celtic king Teutatis to give him the means to make the Counsel of Kings reconsider its decision and charge him with the conquest of Eastern Pontus of the Middle World where there were highly-populated cities flourishing under the states of Crete and Pelasgea.
In this way, through an incursive attack, Idas captures ten ships in the port of Tartissos and escapes to the Tritonas Sea to Talo Tritonia which lay a little before the eastern exit of the Tritonas Sea.
The Counsel of Kings will eventually be forced to proclaim him commander in chief of this campaign for the conquest of Eastern Pontus of the Middle World which would provide a way out for almost all the destitute of Atlantis who were ‘paying’ for the strict inheritance rights imposed on everyone and not only on the members of the royal family.
Idas, with Rianon by his side, the daughter of the Celtic King Teutatis who worshiped him, will prove himself to be a great general and conqueror of Egypt and will oblige the Counsel of Kings to proclaim him the Eleventh King of Atlantis.
His next move will be to beat the inferior fleet of the Cretans and to occupy Crete while his army moves quickly to occupy the shores of today’s Palestine and Cyprus, which was connected by a narrow strip of land to the coast of Palestine opposite.
But he is not satisfied with his conquests and wants to unite his kingdom with the conquest of Pelasgea.
The decisive battle between Atlantis and Pelasgea will take place on the plateau of Sounion, which extended up to three kilometers further south than today’s steep coast.
In this show-down Erysichthonos was in command of the Pelasgeans and Idas himself led the people of Atlantis.
The symbols of the two rivals were the club of the goddess Athena for the Pelasgeans and Poseidon’s carriage for Atlantis.
The clash is undecided.
In the end, however, the Athenians are victorious and the army of Atlantis is forced to abandon the coast of Africa.
It is a great victory for Pelasgea and the next step is the reoccupation of Crete.
However, Fate had other things in mind for everyone.
Ένας σεισμός ασύλληπτου μεγέθους θ’αλλάξει τη μορφή του κόσμου,όπως τον γνώριζαν μέχρι τότε οι άνθρωποι.
The few who are saved will bear witness to the indescribable fury of the sea which swallowed everything in its path.
Years later the few who have remained will realize that nothing has been left of the old world as they knew it.
Atlantis had been lost forever and the Middle World had been united while the cities that had existed on its shores had vanished to the bottom of the sea.
And the man who will describe the indescribable is Apollodorus from Tritonia Talo, who by chance was saved and recorded everything on plaques in the writing character that had been used by the royal family of Atlantis and examples of which have been found in Gauzelle in France!
Is it an incredible story?
Perhaps…

* * *
Michael Kokkinaris,Writer,m.kokkinaris@tellas.gr

Μοναχισμός και φιλαργυρία.

2011-12-23T07:04:00.000-08:00

Δε θα τολμήσω να ασκήσω κριτική στον Καθηγούμενο της Ιεράς Μονής Βατοπεδίου και τους συν αυτώ(και πώς θα μπορούσα άλλωστε!),απλά θα παραθέσω αποσπάσματα απ’ όσα γράφει ο άγιος Ιωάννης ο Σιναϊτης στην «Κλίμακα»(στο σπουδαιότερο ασκητικό βιβλίο της ορθόδοξης παράδοσης) για τη Φιλαργυρία.

Του οσίου Πατρός ημών Ιωάννου της Κλίμακος,λόγος ΙΣΤ,Περί Φιλαργυρίας

«…και πρώτον μεν θέλομεν ομιλήσει περί της ψυχικής ταύτης ασθενείας βραχέα τινά…
Η Φιλαργυρία είναι θυγάτηρ της απιστίας και ο φιλάργυρος γίνεται άπιστος,διατί δεν έχει εις τον Θεόν ελπίδα,αλλ’ανατίθησιν(αναθέτει)
όλην την πίστιν,την αγάπην,την μακαριότητα και την δόξαν του εις τα αργύρια.
Ο φιλάργυρος είναι καταφρονητής και παραβάτης του Ιερού Ευαγγελίου,του Δεσπότου Χριστού λέγοντος: «Πώλησόν σου τα υπάρχοντα και δος πτωχοίς και έξεις θησαυρόν εν ουρανώ».
Ο φιλάργυρος προφασίζεται και λέγει πως συνάζει τα αργύρια,για να ποιή έλεος(να προσφέρει ελεημοσύνη) προς τους πέντητας(φτωχούς).
Αλλά αφού τα συνάξη,επιλανθάνεται(ξεχνάει)παραυτίκα(αμέσως) της ελεημοσύνης και μισεί τους πτωχούς και τους διώκει με μεγάλη σκληρότητα.
Ο φιλάργυρος και φιλοχρήματος μοναχός ή και κοσμικός,δεν πίπτει ποτέ εις οκνηρίαν(τεμπελιά)και αμέλειαν,αλλά φροντίζει εν νυκτί και ημέρα με μεγάλην φροντίδα και μέριμναν να δίδη και να γράφη,να λαμβάνη και να σβεννύη(σβήνει),και περιερχόμενος να συναθροίζει(μαζεύει) τα εαυτού αργύρια και τους τόκους των…»
Λέει και άλλα πολλά ο άγιος Ιωάννης της Κλίμακος…πολλά και καυστικά!
Και να σκεφθεί κανείς πως η« Κλίμαξ» του Αγίου Ιωάννου υπάρχει και ως τοιχογραφία σε όλα τα μοναστήρια του Αγίου Όρους και φυσικά στην Ιερά Μονή Βατοπεδίου.

Κατά τα άλλα αν είναι ή όχι σκάνδαλο η υπόθεση της Μονής Βατοπεδίου θα το δείξει τελικά η δικαιοσύνη.
Σίγουρα όμως είναι ένα αυταπόδεικτο ηθικό σκάνδαλο με προφανείς ενόχους για σκανδαλισμό του ποιμνίου.
Και η τιμωρία;
Αν πραγματικά πιστεύουν οι πρωταγωνιστές του σ'αυτά που λέει το Ευαγγέλιο,τότε τούς περιμένει το πυρ το εξώτερο!

Love in ashes.

2011-12-22T06:39:00.000-08:00

Theatrical
Love in the ashes
by Michael Kokkinaris
Ausbitz-Birgenau death campus
First Act
1th Stage
The scene unfolds in a female ward of the camp and the scene consists of condominiums, wooden beds separated by a narrow window, from where it enters any 30΄΄the light of a projector that illuminates the scene.
In beds sleeping young women.
Two of the prisoners have their eyes wide open and discuss.
RUTH
Sarah slept?
SARAH
I slept, Ruth, with eyes wide open, and dreamed that Frau Baum lost the whistle and his voice ... Ruth ... it is not came out!
RUTH
That is, they forgot us, let us dream!
SARAH
It's only us left!
RUTH
Regardless, at last, for something to count on our misery!
SARAH
Otherwise, my dear, will never learn what is happiness.
RUTH
I tasted daily the happiness, Sarah, ... touching it with the tips of my fingers, but does not recognize!
I did not know that happiness is a warm piece of bread ...
A kiss on the lips ...
A smile from Jeri,he I will not see again ever ... as I live ...
SARAH
At least you have the time and touched it, lucky!
I will go and will not know how or like ... unless it .. Ruth
RUTH
Do not spelled out ...
You are wrong!
SARAH
Nor can think of?
RUTH
Listen to me ... I do not want to suffer when the time comes!
Death is separation ...
A trip to the loneliness of yourself!
Endure the death better, when your eyes do not hug each other, when closed forever!
SARAH
And don't feel terror in the freezing cold of your loneliness?
RUTH
Terror you feel anyway ...
But without love death waiting for him to come earlier to escape!
SARAH
And if you're wrong?
RUTH
Sarah, sweetie,is your own life, yours and the death,which having others decide for you ...
Choose how you will be die !
SARAH
I do'nt want to listen you another ... I'm terrified!
Got me in a game of mind that no one wins!
Have pity on me, and let me think it might not be that way!
RUTH

I wish everything was different ... but they are not and they can't make the same things as before ... Even though sometimes open the doors of hell and get away from the cold breath of death!

SARAH
So, without confessing,they have a spark of hope the words that let you escape, my dear Ruth!
"If ever open the doors of hell ..." So said ...
RUTH
So I said ... It's true ... but deep down I do not think will happen eventually ...
All of us will end up on the gas sooner or later ...
They do not want witnesses the monsters ...
They will not leave behind evidence to trial sometime for crimes that committed.
SARAH
And finally I leave without a kiss on my lips, alone and desolate, between themselves and desert creatures with nails hammered on wall of the chamber and the gas will be uprooting my guts?
RUTH
(Turning the palms to her ears)
Shut up ... I can not hear all this again and again ..
SARAH
I took a decision ... and what is to happen, let it be ...
I love him, Ruth ... I loved him from the first day I saw him ...
It's time to show him that ...
RUTH
No need, silly, he show it was a time, looking to find you the look of just coming in factory ... and when you are satisfied that there begins to mumble songs of the homeland that we lost!
(I)
Sarah, beloved
(With male bass voice)
"Let me lose myself
in color of your eyes!
Let me dream
the taste of your kiss!
Circe, you, the world
that the wave with washed,
ashes to be
and vanish forever!
What if ash to be
and the wind to disperse
away from you,
I'll be a drop of rain,
to be with you! "

Να τι γράφαμε πριν δέκα χρόνια.

2011-12-21T03:53:00.000-08:00

Μια γκρίζα πραγματικότητα:Στην παγκοσμιοποιημένη οικονομία ποιος τελικά παίρνει τις αποφάσεις;

Το ερώτημα δεν είναι ρητορικό ή θεωρητικό.Ποιος τελικά κυβερνά σε συνθήκες παγκοσμιοποιημένης οικονομίας;Πρόκειται για ένα καίριο ερώτημα που υποδηλώνει ελάχιστες μόνο από τις αρνητικές παραμέτρους της εφιαλτικής νεοφιλελεύθερης ουτοπίας που εισαγάγαμε στη ζωή μας,για να εξορκίσουμε τη σοσιαλιστική ουτοπία!
Μας λένε οι αναλυτές,για παράδειγμα, πως η άνοδος της τιμής του πετρελαίου είναι κατά κύριο λόγο πλασματική και προϊόν χρηματιστηριακών παιχνιδιών με στόχο την κερδοσκοπία,χωρίς βεβαίως να μη συνυπολογίζουν τις συναλλαγματικές ισορροπίες των νομισμάτων και την αυξημένη ζήτηση του προϊόντος από την Κίνα και δευτερευόντως από την Ινδία.
Το συμπέρασμα όμως είναι ότι δεν υπάρχουν πρωτεύοντες μηχανισμοί για να ελεγχθεί η κερδοσκοπία του χρηματιστηριακού κεφαλαίου,που ανεξέλεγκτο θα οδηγήσει τελικά στην απόλυτη φτώχια και εξαθλίωση τα δύο τρίτα του πληθυσμού!
Αν μάλιστα επεκτείνουμε το συμπέρασμα αυτό και σε άλλους τομείς του σύγχρονου οικονομικού προϊόντος,γρήγορα θα διαπιστώσουμε ότι η σημερινή κοινοβουλευτική εξουσία είναι αμφίβολο ότι μπορεί να ελέγξει,ακόμη κι αν το θέλει, π.χ.το πλέγμα των αναπτυγμένων δικτύων πληροφορικής,που προωθούν τη λογική της ανταγωνιστικότητας και διαμορφώνουν το μοντέλο του απομονωμένου χρήστη,που καταναλώνει τα προϊόντα τους,όποια κι αν είναι αυτά.
Και ποιο είναι το μέλλον αυτού του κόσμου;Μα η επιστροφή στη φτώχια,στη μιζέρια,στην ανεργία,σ’ένα γκρίζο τοπίο από την οικολογική λεηλασία!Τότε η έκρηξη της βίας θα είναι το τέλος της ουτοπίας που ζούμε σήμερα.Γιατί ποιος θα συγκρατήσει τα δύο τρίτα των φτωχών και των εξαθλιωμένων να στραφούν εναντίον των «εκλεκτών»της παγκοσμιοποίησης;Και το χειρότερο απ’όλα θα είναι η έλλειψη προοπτικής σ’αυτή την κοινωνική έκρηξη.Να γκρεμίσεις ένα σύστημα που σου κάνει πλύση εγκεφάλου,σε χρησιμοποιεί,ελέγχει τα γονίδιά σου,προκαθορίζει τη «χρήση»σου κι έπειτα σε πετάει στο καλάθι των αχρήτων;
Έ,και;Μετά τι θα γίνει;Θα αναζητήσουμε τη χαμένη κοινωνικότητά μας;Θα οικοδομήσουμε εξαρχής το μέλλον μας;Και με ποια υλικά;
Ύστερα από δυο ή τρεις γενιές «μεταλλαγμένων»ανθρώπων,που δε θα ξέρουν τίποτα για το παρελθόν τους είναι σίγουρο πως δε θα μπορούν να «φανταστούν»ένα διαφορετικό μέλλον για τους εαυτούς τους και τους άλλους!
Σήμερα,δέκα χρόνια μετά,στη χώρα μας κυβερνά η τρόικα και αυτό που περιμένουμε είναι πλέον να βγει ο κόσμος στους δρόμους.
Ακούστε με:Τώρα να πάρουμε μέτρα.Να οργανωθούμε,πριν το πλήθος να γίνει πεινασμένος όχλος και γκρεμίσει τα πάντα γύρω μας για να βρει να φάει.

2011-12-21T02:48:00.000-08:00

Ο πνευματικός άνθρωπος στην εποχή της κρίσης.

2011-12-21T02:42:00.000-08:00

Αν και είναι αδόκιμο να ξεχωρίζουμε κάποιους ανθρώπους με το κατηγόρημα του πνευματικού,ωστόσο είναι προφανές πως αναζητούμε επιτέλους κάποιον να ξεχωρίσει και να μάς δείξει το δρόμο στην εποχή της κρίσης.
Το ερώτημά μου είναι αν ο λεγόμενος πνευματικός άνθρωπος μπορεί να ανταποκριθεί σ'αυτό το αίτημα.
Έστω ότι αυτός ο άνθρωπος υπάρχει ανάμεσά μας και σιωπά.Έχει,ας πούμε το ανάστημα του Σεφέρη και παραμένει σιωπηλός.
Πιστέψτε με,θα παραμείνει σιωπηλος γιατί δεν έχει τι να πει.
Έχει ανατραπεί το σύνολο των αρχών πάνω στις οποίες δομήθηκε το οντολογικό περιεχόμενο των εννοιών της φιλοσοφίας και της κοινωνιολογίας.
Σήμερα μπορούμε να μιλάμε μόνο με όρους της αγοράς ,που ανακαθορίζουν ακόμη και το οντολογικό περιεχόμενο της έννοιας του προσώπου.
Ποιος έφταιξε;
Λίγη σημασία έχει πιά!
Τι θα γίνει;
Στο ερώτημα αυτό δεν μπορούν να απαντήσουν κυρίως όσοι σκέφτονται με όρους του παρελθόντος,είτε φιλοσοφικού είτε κυρίως πολιτικού,που αναμασσούν τη διαλεκτική του υπαρκτού ή μάλλον του ανύπαρκτου σοσιαλισμού.
Την εσχατολογία των θρησκειών την αφήνουμε στους πιστούς...και μεταξύ μας στα ωραιότερα όνειρά μας.
Το θέμα είναι τι κάνουμε εν μέσω καταιγίδας και τι να περιμένουμε και από ποιον!

Όλα είναι στο μυαλό μας.2

2011-12-20T05:54:00.000-08:00

Όλα είναι εντός μας!Υπάρχουν και πεθαίνουν στον κόσμο των εσωτερικών ισορροπιών,που έχουμε οικοδομήσει για να ζήσουμε,όπως ζούμε.Κι αν κάποτε π.χ. με την τέχνη επιχειρούμε να αποκαλύψουμε ένα μέρος του κόσμου αυτού,μην είστε τόσο βέβαιοι πως το πετυχαίνουμε κιόλας!Ο κόσμος αυτός είναι εξ'ορισμού δαιδαλώδης,εύθραυστος κι αν τον αγγίξεις δεν είναι βέβαιο πως θα μπορέσεις να τον πάρεις στην παλάμη σου!

Όλα είναι στο μυαλό μας.1

2011-12-20T05:51:00.000-08:00

Και όχι στις αισθήσεις μας!
Μην απορείτε!
Πέρα από τις αισθήσεις,που παράγουν ένα μετρήσιμο νευροαισθητηριακό αποτέλεσμα,υπάρχει ο τελικός αναλυτής,ο εγκέφαλος,που για τον καθένα μας,είναι μοναδικός και ανεπανάληπτος.Έτσι ακόμη κι αν νομίζουμε πως μπορούμε να αποτυπώνουμε με κοινό τρόπο την επίδραση του κόσμου που μάς περιβάλλει με διαύλους επκοινωνίας,όπως είναι η γλώσσα,στην πραγματικότητα εκφράζουμε αυτό που εμείς νομίζουμε πως συμβαίνει σε κάθε στιγμή!
Και δεν είναι μόνο αυτή η διαπίστωση,που έτσι κι αλλιώς υπάρχει γενετικά!
Σ'αυτόν το μοναδικό και ανεπανάληπτο ανθρώπινο εγκέφαλο υπάρχει ένας άλλος κόσμος,απροσμέτρητος,απύθμενος,ακατάληπτος,δυσερμηνευτός,απρόσμενος,στον οποίο ζούμε διπλή ζωή!
Κι αν θέλετε τη γνώμη μου,την πραγματική ζωή,που δεν μπορούν να προσεγγίσουν οι αισθήσεις μας!
Θα επανέλθουμε αναλυτικά σ'αυτήν την προσέγγιση.Το μόνο ίσως που θα μπορούσα να προσθέσω σ'αυτή τη "θεωρία" για να την αποδείξω είναι η ευκολία που δραπετεύουμε στον πυρήνα μιας κινηματογραφικής ταινίας,που απλώς μάς υπενθυμίζει πως ο κόσμος της διπλής μας ζωής μπορεί και να υπάρχει στην πραγματικότητα,όσο ακραίο και αν είναι το σενάριό της!

The Magistrate.

2011-12-19T02:51:00.000-08:00

The Magistrate
(by Michael Kokkinaris)1

Rome 53 AD – In the large Assembly Hall of the Senate

In the full to the limit amphitheatre the chairman of the Senate reads out the verdict from the bench concerning the charges for the abuse of public funds against Caicillus Secundus, an impudent, thirty-year-old senator, who is almost certain, judging from his calm composure, of his acquittal.
*
Chairman: To the accused, on behalf of the bench, I am bound to declare that there is no evidence for any of the charges for which you have been committed for trial in this hall.
Consequently, no one can charge you…
*
Caicillus Secundus rises to his feet and embraces the orator impassively standing beside him and whispers to him ‘I owe you my life and fortune… Never forget that, whatever happens’.

The hall is vacated, Caicillus has already disappeared and Titus Libius, the orator, a tall, dark man in his mid-thirties with an austere expression, is heading for the exit when he is approached by Marcus Tulius, a senator whose connection with the emperor Claudius is known to all.
Tulius is around fifty, of average height and prematurely aged with a searching gaze and it is impossible to guess what exactly is going through this man’s mind.
His voice is tinged with tones of admiration and irony:

‘So Titus Libius, the orator who can prove the unprovable…’
‘It is my honor that I have caught the notice of Marcus Tulius…’
‘And should I at some time ever require the services of a legal orator, I will certainly choose you…’
‘Am I to assume that this means something?’
‘Not exactly what you think… Your friend Caicillus was very lucky, at least this time…’
You are a wonderful orator…
Anyway, Augustus needs you…’
‘Is he going on trial? Just joking…’
‘Just be ready… I have spoken to him about you…’
*
The patrician who accompanies Libius leaves him in an internal courtyard of the palace and asks him to be patient until the emperor arrives.
When Claudius appears he beckons to Libius to approach. Claudius is obviously aging, however, despite the fact that he has a limp, he wants them to walk together.
Libius greets him and then falls silent, waiting for Claudius to allow him to speak…
Every so often,Claudius reaches down to touch some bloom casting surreptitious glances towards Libius. Eventually he says:

‘Marcus Tulius has spoken to me about you… You are a legal orator… and a magistrate…’
‘The latter capacity is inferential, Augustus…’
Claudius straightens up and looks at him in the eyes.
‘And you can find out the truth or bury it deep down. Isn’t that so, Libius?’
‘It is, Sir.’
‘Do you believe in the Gods?’
‘I believe in whatever constitutes a part of the order and harmony…’
‘And if something were about to disrupt it?’
‘It is my duty to obstruct it…’
‘I want you, therefore, to obstruct a superstition that is polluting Rome, an incomprehensible superstition that has appeared in Judea where supposedly someone who was crucified for insurrection against Rome died… and was resurrected…
God forbid if all those who have been crucified are resurrected!’
‘If you so decide, Sir…’
‘Everything has its limits… even myths…
You will go, therefore, to the place where that superstition was born… You will examine the facts from the beginning… You will interrogate the lie-mongers and finally you will bring them to justice.
Are you listening, Libius? You will judge them in the name of Rome with the power which I bestow upon you as of this very moment…’

* * *

Summary

A few years after the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth in Judea the rumors that reach Rome about His Resurrection and mainly the effect that this ‘superstition’ has on almost all the social classes of the Empire will for the first time force the emperor Claudius to carry out unofficial inquisitions as to the origin and goals of this ‘myth’.
The orator Titius Libius will take on the difficult mission of going to Judea in order to interrogate all those who were witness to the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth and to put to trial whoever spread the falsehoods about the resurrection of this prisoner who had been put to death on the cross.
A little while before leaving Rome, Titius Libius is paid a visit by the widow of a Roman officer who asks him to investigate the circumstances surrounding her husband’s death in Judea as all those who survived the attack on their encampment by Jewish robbers had returned to Rome with huge fortunes…
The orator is charmed by Lydia and accepts to investigate the circumstances of her husband’s death in order to keep in contact with her.
However, when he goes to Judea and begins his investigatory work he will soon realize that the attempts on his life do not ultimately come from the followers of Jesus who want to obstruct his work, but from the paid assassins of those who have reason not to want the circumstances of the strange attack by Jewish robbers to come to light, including the disappearance of a large amount of money that was being transferred to Rome by a military detachment whose leader had been the centurion Poplius Lentulius, Lydia’s husband.
Nonetheless, performing a delicate balancing act, Titius Libius will eventually succeed in questioning significant surviving biblical figures as well as ordinary people who had met Jesus, collecting valuable information which will allow him to reach a final conclusion as to who Jesus of Nazareth really was and whether in fact he was resurrected three days after his death.
And all this until the day of the murder of Claudius and the rise to power of Nero…

1.Dr Michael Kokkinaris
Author
Member of the Society of Greek Authors
20 Aegytou Street
Glyfada
Athens 165.62
e-mail:m.kokkinaris@tellas.gr

Έστιν δίκης οφθαλμός...

2011-12-18T02:26:00.000-08:00

Αυτό που κυρίως χρειάζεται στις επερχόμενες εκλογές είναι η περίσκεψη.Καμία ψήφος να μην πάει χαμένη.Και χαμένη ψήφος είναι η επιπόλαια ψήφος.
Είμαστε πλέον στο κριτικό σημείο της αντοχής μας ως εθνκής και κρατικής οντότητας.
Σε άλλες συνθήκες ενδεχομένως θα κρατούσαμε όπλα και θα έπρεπε να πολεμήσουμε τον ορατό μας εχθρό.
Σήμερα ο εχθρός είναι εντός των τειχών,είναι προβατόσχημος λύκος και επιχειρεί και πάλι να μάς εξαπατήσει με υποσχέσεις.
Άμεσα μετά τις γιορτές ενδεχομένως τα πολιτικά κόμματα θα καταθέσουν τις προτάσεις τους για την έξοδό μας από την κρίση.
Η απάντησή μας πρέπει να συνοψίζεται στην περίσκεψη.Και τι σημαίνει αυτό;
Απλά πράγματα.
Κανένας πολιτικός ως φυσικό πρόσωπο,που με τον ένα ή με τον άλλο τρόπο,μάς οδήγησε στην κρίση,είναι βέβαιο πως δεν μπορεί να μάς βγάλει απ'αυτήν.
Έχει μάθει την τεχνική της εξαπάτησης ή έχει μάθει να συνανεί σ'αυτήν και άρα είναι ακατάλληλος για να μάς κυβερνήσει.
Κανένα κόμμα,που συνεργάστηκε ακόμη και με τη σιωπή του ώστε να επέλθει η κρίση δεν μπορεί να φιλοδοξεί να μάς βγάλει απ'αυτήν.
Κανένας δογματικός δεν μπορεί να οδηγήσει το λαό στον ορίζοντα του πουθενά,γιατί αυταπόδεικτα επιχειρεί να φτιάξει έναν κόσμο που υπάρχει μόνο στο μυαλό του.
Όποιος ισχυρίζεται ότι είναι προοδευτικός ή επί το λαϊκότερον αριστερός και δεν έχει κυβερνητική πρόταση να γίνει αντικείμενο βαθιάς περίσκεψης και να χαρακτηριστεί ως συνένοχος του συστήματος που μάς εξαπάτησε μέχρι σήμερα.
Βαθιά περίσκεψη λοιπόν για να μην είμαστε συνένοχοι στο έγκλημα που ετοιμάζονται κάποιοι να διαπράξουν στό όνομα του λαού,που θα τούς ψηφίσει!

Τι να περιμένουμε στο χρόνο που έρχεται.

2011-12-15T09:51:00.000-08:00

Στην εποχή της αθωότητας,κάθε φορά που άλλαζε ο χρόνος,η ψυχή μας πλημμύριζε από ελπίδα και προσμονή.
Δεν είχαμε τίποτα,αλλά τα είχαμε όλα!
Είχαμε την ψυχή μας.
Είχαμε την ανείπωτη χαρά από ένα ζευγάρι καινούργια,φτηνά παπούτσια.
Είχαμε τη ζεστασιά των ανθρώπων,που ήταν ...ανθρώπινοι!
Είχαμε τις βεβαιότητές μας για έναν κόσμο,που φαινόταν στέρεος.
Σήμερα και πάλι δεν έχουμε τίποτα.
Αλλά το κυριότερο δεν έχουμε ελπίδα και προσμονή.
Καλή χρονιά ωστόσο!

El Hakim(The Therapist)

2011-12-08T05:38:00.001-08:00

THE THERAPIST(El Hakim)

(Script)

Precis

Published by “Armos”

Pages 312

EL HAKIM (THE THERAPIST)

(Summary)

In the years of Petros D’ Obouson, the Great Magistrate (Grand Magister) of the Knights in Rhodes, while the raids of the Turks against the island are multiplied, some corpses of peasants are discovered, which have marks of claws of a big animal.
The news about this strange massive murder, which was firstly attributed to a raid of Turks, arrive at a totally inappropriate time, while the Magistrate is trying to confirm the appointment of Dimitrios Sofianos, as an ambassador of the Sultan Mohammed B at the seat (headquarters) of the Order by the Council of Knights.
The only survivor is a small boy, Andronikos Honiatis, who states at the Council of Knights that it must have been “wolves” the murderers of his mother, Eudokia Andegavini. She was from the well-known generation of Franks Andegavini, who owned Rhodes for a period of time.
Although D’ Obouson managed to confirm the appointment of Sofianos, at the same time he also wanted to know the truth. So, under the pretext that the wolves which tore up so many people must be wiped out, he sends his secret advisor, Count Antonios Romigy, together with a detachment to arrest the murderers. When the detachment returns at the castle, it brings the “hides” (“skins”) of the wolves and a prisoner, Mehmet Ovrenoglou, one of the two raiders (rangers), who was an illegitimate son of the sultan Mourat B, father of Mohammed the Conqueror.
The Turk is imprisoned or better “he disappears” in the hulks and young Andronikos Honiatis grows up with the Franciscan monks, who practice medicine in the Hospital of the Knights.
The years pass by and Andronikos Honiatis will become witness of the “supernatural” ability that his hands have to heal the wounds of the human body, when he heals the hand of a German knight who was in danger of dying, unless mangled, because of gangrene.
The unexpected therapy of the knight has as its award his proposal to the Greek therapist to be nominated knight in the “language” of the Germans, if he passed some specific trials.
Therefore, the charm of being a knight, as well as his parental heritage, make young Andronikos accept the challenge and prepare for the final trial for the nomination of being a knight. However, his German trainer will seek to destroy him for his impudence to claim the title of a knight.
When he finally passes this trial, his wounds are severe and he is transferred to the hospital in a bad condition. The same night his sudden therapy by the miraculous ability of his hands, will make his friend,Fra Jacob Manchini, a Franciscan monk and surgeon in the hospital of the knights, to nail him on the bed with gauzes and cataplasms in fear of others considering him a magician and burn him in fire.
As a result, his obligatory treatment in the hospital is prolonged, when, one night, the castle gets upset by the news that the niece of the secret advisor of the Magistrate, Louise D’ Anzou, has been kidnapped. The kidnapper lays just one condition, to release the prisoner Mehmet Ovrenoglou…
The Turk is about to die from the hardships and Romigy’s position is hopeless. The idea of his transfer to the hospital and his exchange with Louise D’ Anzou seems rather as a solution of desperation…
When the soldiers transfer Ovrenoglou to the hospital, neither Manchini nor Honiatis know his real identity and his relation with D’ Anzou’s kidnapping.
The Greek therapist will do his miracle again.
The Turk recovers, but what really impresses Andronikos is the strange reaction of Mehmet Ovrenoglou to the persistent howl of the wolf, which is heard outside the castle.
And when the Turk gains power from the howl of the animal, the memories of the death of the parents of Honiatis from the wolves are awakened and arm his will to kill him.
Manchini, who is now aware of the truth, stops him at the last minute and the exchange results to the release of Louise D’ Anzou. However, when her horse passes the moat, the spectacle that everyone waiting for her in agony faces, is tragic.
Louise D’ Anzou is severely wounded by claws of a big animal on the face, neck and breast. The following days prescribe her end…
And Romigy refuses to turn to the “hands” of the Greek therapist, because he considers the whole story as “charlatanism” of the Franciscan monks. But he is wrong…
Louise D’ Anzou recovers, and what she mostly remembers, is the tender kiss on her forehead by Andronikos Honiatis, who felt the need to kiss her while his miraculous hands were healing her wounded body.
* * *
The unexpected salvation of Mehmet Ovrenoglou and mostly his therapy by the hands of Andronikos Honiatis, will attract the attention of the Turk spy, who was from the beginning of the story behind the assassination of the peasants, the kidnapping of Louise D’ Anzou and her terrible wounding.
He was a strange creature that everyone who knew him, could not tell if he was a “wild beast” or a human being, a creature like everyone else or a demon living among humans…
So, this person, Souleiman, who was working at the time for the Great Vizier, Mezih Paleologos, informed him about the Greek therapist and the supernatural abilities that his hands had.
Therefore, Mezih Paleologos before attempting to seize Rhodes, promises to the sultan Mohammed that among the loot he will bring from Rhodes, there will be the Greek therapist, in order to give him health and longevity…
The next period is very important for the forthcoming attack of the Turks against Rhodes. The preparations for the siege begin and the action of spies gets more intense. Within this atmosphere of waiting, Souleiman returns to Rhodes and forces an old Turkish man, Osman, to state that he is an apprentice in his blacksmith’s, when the census of the foreigners staying in the island takes place, by giving him a few gold coins.
The price of the blacksmith’s tolerance will be the love affair of Souleiman with his daughter, Fatma, who will become a puppet in Souleiman’s hands and totally dependent on the wild erotic mood that he causes to her.
The first attempt of Mezih Paleologos to seize Rhodes is fragmentary and painful for the Turks. However, within this atmosphere that is created, Andronikos Honiatis will live closely the atrocity of the war and Louise D’ Anzou will “relive” the nightmare of her severe wounding and her mental state will be upset.
While waiting the new attack of Mezih Paleologos, Souleiman will seek and find people willing to help him in his dirty game. The best seems to be the German knight Matias Noyman, who will become his informer about the Greek therapist, Andronikos Honiatis.
So, when it is decided that D’ Anzou must leave the castle in order to see new places and relax, Souleiman plans the kidnapping of the Greek therapist, who is in charge of the detachment accompanying her.
The attempt fails and the two young people come closer, seeking ways to consummate their relationship. And because love is resourceful, Louise D’ Anzou plans to fall into the arms of her beloved one, getting out of the Kastello wearing her servant’s clothes, who is staying at the English “language”[1] in an attic.
Frantzesco Foscari was the postman of their love letters, a young apprentice in the hospital of the knights, who, unfortunately for him, was traced by Souleiman and with Fatma’s help, will try to intimidate him, in order to collaborate at the kidnapping of Andronikos Honiatis.
The night that Louise and Andronikos will finally come together at her servant’s attic, Bianca, neither of them noticed two eyes burning as coal, watching them in the dark.
And as hatred together with jealousy and passion dominate Souleiman’s attitude towards Fatma, she will believe that the man who rules her, scorns her for another woman.
And the only one who knows, who this woman is, is the postman, Frantzesco Foscari…
Foscari’s murder, the secret relationship of Andronikos with Louise D’ Anzou, the danger after all, of all these being connected, make Fra Jacob Manchini enter the game of searching the guilty ones and solving a conspiracy, which was more serious that it seemed at the beginning.
As a consequence, while the Turks begin this time the systematic siege of the town, Manchini composes with persistence and patience the puzzle of the guilty persons, using the evidence he has.
In fact, when he mentions his suspicions to the Magistrate’s secret advisor, count Romigy, for the possible action of spies in the castle, the latter sends for help a… beggar, who manages to reach the end of the line and connect the evidence he has to the persons. However, the beggar’s assassination and the likely seizure of the castle by the Turks, force the Franciscan monk to bring justice himself, as he knows at least one person who is guilty, the Turkish Fatma.
The curtain of the first act of the drama falls with an unexpected development.
While the Turks have already seized the Italian rampart and their flag is waving at the castle, φρα Jacob Manchini, who was going to arrest Fatma, is assassinated by her.
Souleiman, the devilish spy, certain that Mezih Paleologos has seized the castle of Rhodes, goes to grab the object of his secret desire, Louise D’ Anzou. She, desperate, commits suicide and the only thing that Souleiman manages to do, is to stick his nails in her clothes and suppress his indescribable rage…
When he gets out of the Castello, a surprise is waiting for him…
The Turks have been defeated and are chased by the knights.
The ultimate moment and while everything seemed lost in the Italian rampart D’ Obouson makes a new turn in the development of the siege, when he recovers from the blows he received with the aid of the Greek therapist, who is fighting in his personal guard.
When the siege ends, Andronikos Honiatis buries everyone he lovedֹ
Louise D' Anzou, Fra Jacob Manchini and count Antonios Romigy, whom he tried in vain to save, when the latter was deadly wounded to save the Magistrate.
* * *
Forty years later the castle of Rhodes stands impregnable in the East and the Turks are planning its seizure in vain. Now Souleiman the Great is sultan and he even hesitates to think about the siege of the castle of Rhodes… until a Turkish fugitive, Hosamedin Ebeoglou brings him a strange message.
Admiral Andreas Amaral, the Portuguese chancellor of the Order of Knights wants to help him conquer Rhodes. As a proof of his intentions, he gives him the names of the network of spies acting at the coastline of Asia Minor.
The spies are arrested, they confess and the illegal co–operation begins. A strange creature from the old days, that time does not touch him, Souleiman, is the liaison between the sultan and Amaral…
Souleiman’s return in Rhodes, a person that no one still understands if he is human or a creature of imagination, is a fact. His first message to Amaral is transferred by Fatma, Fatma Sasioglou, the daughter of Osman…the murderess that got again together with the only man she loved.
“In the moonlight an odd couple tries to find once more the paths of the body that time plied without mercy. Fatma’s lips are thirsty for the wild kisses of the apprentice, which remained in her memory as coals lit for forty or so years.
And her body…as if it was possible to live again the heat of the passion that it had been hiding all these years, seemed like the unripe body of her youth, which surrendered without inhibitions to that beast that had been the only man in her life.
At dawn, when the side-door creaked again, Fatma was sure that what she lived was not a dream, by the marks of the body…and from the hair of the beast that had been sleeping with her all night…”
When Souleiman meets the traitor Amaral and they define the exchange for the betrayal, he asks to know what happened to the Greek therapist, Andronikos Honiatis, the man he still hated, although forty or so years had passed…
If he was still alive, he wanted Amaral to deliver Andronikos to him…”as part of their agreement…”
In the years that passed, Andronikos Honiatis, now a count in the guard of the Order of Agios Ioannis, lived isolated in a dilapidated mansion near the fortress of Faraklou, in agony that time had forgotten him…
“The guard that stands in the eastern rampart of Faraklou counts the time that runs, by the neighing of the horse that welcomes the sun, as it rises every morning from the heart of the open sea.
As the morning rays of light touch it, the thoroughbred steps back for the rider to stand higher and make sure that time exists and that the orbits of the celestrial bodies are part of the cosmic harmony, created by God.
However, the years pass the guards get older and other younger ones take their place. The older guards, when their time comes to stop being on sentry-go, tell the younger ones to be careful to see, when the sun rises, that strange rider who greets time as if he were asking something from it…”
The reliable servant of Andreas Amaral, Vlasios Diaz, will confirm Souleiman’s information about Andronikos Honiatis, by even searching for the existence of a tomb with the name of Louise D’ Anzou on it. When he finally traces it, in surprise, he will report to his master that Andronikos Honiatis is alive.
“So, Andronikos Honiatis is alive…
Yes, my lord, as sure as fate… And he is young, handsome like a Byzantine saint…
Only his eyes…
What about his eyes, Diaz?
They are empty, mister admiral…
Empty…
And they frighten you…”
Amaral carefully plans the return of count Andronikos Honiatis to Rhodes. A big reception for him takes place, because he is the living symbol of the resistance and the victory of the knights in the years of the Great Magistrate, Petros D’ Obouson.
So, forty years later, the Greek therapist lives again everything that had hurt him and indelibly furrowed his memory, wakening inside him the feeling of punishment for those who destroyed his life.
A Franciscan monk also played a role in this decision, because he found and handed to Andronikos the will and the personal objects of the assassinated monk Fra Jacob Manchini, together with his personal diary that gave answers to questions, buried for forty or so years…
The Turks, this time, disembark on the island with a strategic plan and organisation and make the conquest of the castle of Rhodes inevitable. While the siege is on progress, Andronikos Honiatis seeks the traces of the murderess, as she is described in Manchini’s diary, in the English “language”. There, he will meet a young girl from Rhodes, Victoria, in the face of whom he will seek again the opportunity to live on today. At the same time, he will reach Fatma’s traces, who is in charge of a network of spies that give specific information about the defence and the weak parts of the walls.
At their last meeting, Souleiman will ask the traitor Amaral to finish with the issue of Andronikos Honiatis.
So, at the expiration of the events that are in progress, Andronikos Honiatis will ask the Magistrate’s permission to arrest Fatma, while Amaral’s servant, Diaz, with paid assassins will attempt to arrest the Greek therapist in the “language” of Overn. The attempt to arrest Honiatis ends to Victoria’s horrible assassination and Diaz’s arrest. From that point the development of the story is uncontrolled. Diaz confesses the conspiracy and the chancellor of the Order, the traitor Andreas Amaral is imprisoned and sentenced to death after a stormy trial. At the same trial, Fatma, as well as her collaborators, will be sentenced. The execution of the persons who are guilty will take place the following day.
“The rain got stronger and the roads were filled with mud mixed with the blood of all those who surrendered their damned soul the morning that the big trial finished. As the knights returned to their “languages”, what they could not later explain, was the “mourning” of the wolf, so close to the ramparts of the castle, with so many people around it…
When darkness fell, the lament turned into howling and it did not stop until the next day, at dawn, the canons started again hitting with their balls the ramparts and the bastions of the castle town of Rhodes, till they collapsed in ruins…

* * *
After revealing Amaral’s conspiracy, the people have lost their courage and two months later, an agreement of surrender of town is signed, with the condition that the knights and inhabitants of Rhodes who wish to leave, could do it. All that rest behind will learn the revenge and the ferocity of an army that lost 100.000 men outside the walls of the castle of Rhodes…
At that point exactly, as the ships taking away to the unknown the defeated ones, get lost in the horizon, Andronikos and Souleiman’s final confrontation will take place, so that their hatred, lasting so many years between them, would cease.

“As they are fighting body to body, Souleiman definitely wants to know who killed Fatma. The words of the Greek hurt as much as the ultimate stab that Souleiman gets in his heart.
“I finished the murderess…with my own hands, in order to finally have something to remember…”
Souleiman kneeled in front of the Greek, who took his head with one movement, ending the life of the person who took his.

“The sword-bearing men rushed to catch live the Greek therapist and when he got tired of taking lives from this world, he got on the ramparts and freed himself by jumping on the rocks that supported the ruins of the castle.But the Turks from above did not see a body lying on the rocks… as if Andronikos were a bird of passage that flew away and got lost at the end of the open sea, going on a trip far away and meeting all those who gave him the opportunity to gather one drop of happinesss the two times he escaped illegally from time…”

[1] * Languages: the seven nations of the Order, which were identified with their national language (France, England, Spain, Italy, Province Overn, German)

The Charm of Utopia.A novel by Michael Kokkinaris

2011-12-07T00:25:00.000-08:00

The Charm of Utopia (Sicily 413 BC)

A novel by Michael Kokkinaris
399 pages

Chapter One

Hegisius the Metic (Foreigner)

The only thing that Hegisius managed to catch a glimpse of, was his master’s tunic, which flowed freely from his shoulders as the horse leapt over the outer fence.
He made an attempt to catch up with him, but his age weighing him down, he quickly grew breathless, and weakness brought him to his knees.
“Truth is, I’ll never understand that boy... Never in a thousand years.” He murmured under his breath.
He then leaned against a tree and gradually made his way towards the western side of the fence from where he could see Critius galloping away towards the sea.
Then the rider changed direction to the east and disappeared over the horizon towards the Coastal Territories (the shore from Phaliro to Sounio, and from Sounio to Marathona).
Hegisius was left behind awaiting his return, but on assuring himself that it was all in vain, he determined to go back to the house in the hope of tidying up the mess that had prevailed since Critius’ return from Ramnounda
Deep down, however, the old man was quite content.
His master’s homecoming was the best thing that had happened to him in the last two years.
He loved Critius like his own child.
After all, he himself had raised him.
He had, in a manner of speaking, brought him back to life after the death of his mother, Ippareti.
As for Clinius, his father “God forbid such a parent”, he muttered and quickened his step in rage.
When he got home, he started hurling verbal abuse at whoever got in his way.
“Good-for-nothings, first chance you get you start lazing about.
I know who’s to blame. It’s Critius who spoils you.
I’ll show him...
No more wasting time. Come on, to work, lazy-bones. Work!
The truth was that after the previous evening’s festivities nothing was where it should be.
From the entrance hall to the cloak-room, all the way through to the back-yard, everything was upside-down. Cots, cushions, foot-stools, portable tables.
There were even left-overs... in the incense-burners.
In a moment of rage Hegisius steps on a large cup which had been thrown onto the floor.
And then he loses his temper and starts kicking whatever he finds in front of him, cups, wine vessels.
And as the pottery shatters on the walls, the fragments are scattered all around him, some of them making their way beneath the old man’s feet.

-2-

One more step... and Hegisius finds himself sprawled flat on the floor, face down.
And as if that weren’t enough, as he was falling he had tripped over a tripod on which had been placed a largish pot of soup which... emptied itself onto his head.
A slave who happened to be nearby tried to get out of the way. But instead of getting away, he just burst out laughing.
Hegisius, second in charge, with a pot on his head... dripping with soup!
And even while the slave was expecting him to hit the roof, the old supervisor himself began to roar with laughter about the whole thing.
As dusk fell, even before the oil-lamps had been lit, Critius’ stately home had regained its original appearance.
Everything in its proper place... spotless.
And by the time the neighing of Critius’ horse was heard, Hegisius once again felt the relief brought about by the homecoming of his ‘son’.

* * *

It was getting dark now.
The sea breeze cooled the bodies flushed from the heat of the day.
Here in Alimounda, life carried on as normal. The only problem was that it was the ‘son’ Critius who gave this life any meaning at all. The son of the ship-owner Clinius, who had not even once gone to see him while he was doing his military service at the fortress of Ramnounda to demonstrate his interest as a father.
“All’s well, that ends well” Hegisius muttered to himself and he sent for his ‘son’ whom he may not have fathered, but he had certainly brought into the world... back then in the days of the great famine, when Ippareti was still alive, the only woman he had ever loved in his life.

* * *

Fortune plays strange tricks on people. It conspires to create unlikely coincidences to give them a taste of happiness and then curses them to reminisce about it in vain to the end of their days.
The foreigner Hegisius had had the good fortune not to be sold as a slave thanks to the ship-owner Clinius who had offered to pay his debts... in exchange for the service of putting his estate in order.
So, in the space of a few months, everything changed in Alimounda and only Ippareti, Clinius’ wife, was left in solitude in the total absence of her husband who preferred the ship-yards of Pireaus and Athenian banquets.
Until one day Ippareti finally decided to emerge from her personal apartments so as not to die of boredom.
So one morning, without any warning at all, she requested that Hegisius prepare the carriage and accompany her to the Agora in Athens.

-3-

The slave who made Ippareti’s wishes known was scolded:
“Your mistress should know that she’s chosen a bad day for me to leave the estate. Run and tell her that, if it’s alright, we’ll finish the urgent work on the estate and then we’ll be free to spend as much time at the market as she wants.”
Hegisius was about to leave, when he saw Ippareti descending from the upper apartments.
For a split second he was in two minds about what to do.
Should he leave, showing disrespect for his benefactor’s wife, or should he stay, offering some kind of explanation for his refusal.
Meanwhile, Ippareti was fast approaching, but as Hegisius turned around to address her, it seems that some god or demon had somehow rendered him speechless.
The woman’s noble stature, her carefully-styled hair, the garment that tenderly silhouetted her figure, the scent of her perfume, all literally took his breath away, and his embarrassment was so obvious that in the end, Ippareti took pity on him and regretted having put him in such an awkward position.
Then, with a surreptitious smile, she inquired as to how soon they would be leaving for Athens.
For the whole duration of the trip Hegisius remained silent.
Every now and then though, seated next to the slave who was driving the carriage, he would steal a glimpse at her as if to reassure himself that this woman, who had left him in awe, was actually so beautiful. Her eyes were the colour of honey translucent in the sunlight. Her hair was jet black and her complexion as pale as Parian marble, chiseled by a craftsman from Attica who had once encountered a water nymph in his dreams.
And when at last they reached Athens, the overseer, despite himself, found himself following the two women who obviously took great pleasure in the crowds of the Agora.
And with a scowl on his face he waited to see at what point he could bear it no longer.
At that moment he hears someone talking to him in a low whisper:
“Hegisius, have we left the estate to go off shopping?”
Hegisius was about to turn around to see who was speaking when the stranger’s hands grabbed him from the shoulders and pinned him down.
“You’d better watch out... if they see me... you’re finished. Hide me from Ippareti, because if she suspects anything at all, I’ll throw you into the sea, a sacrifice to Poseidon.”
“Oh, Master... Clinius... Has it come to this? Hiding from his wife, who is naive enough to think that he is battling with the waves in Samos!”
“Look straight ahead, you pitiful slave, because at this very moment...”
“What, Master?”
Hegisius cast an ironic glance in the direction of Clinius, who hid himself as soon as he saw Ippareti approaching.
When the two of them found themselves together again, Clinius seemed to be questioning what he had just seen.
“You mean, mate, I’ve got such a beautiful wife and I’ve left you, ‘Mr. Goat-face’, to take care of her?
Mistake... Big mistake...

-4-

At dusk Clinius’ ship will reach Pireaus, and tomorrow at the break of day, I’ll be in Alimounda with my little wife...”

* * *

Ship-owner Clinius’ passion for his wife lasted three days and three nights, as did his drunkenness. And just as it had come to him out of the blue, so it left him, leaving a child, Critius, to be born nine months later, an event that prompted Hegisius to remain permanently in Athens. However, the birth led to complications, and two days later, Ippareti fell victim to post-natal fever, which would certainly have led to her death.
Hegisius’ last hope to save his mistress was Tisius, a follower of Aesculapius (doctor) from Athens, whom he forced to come to Alimounda virtually against his will.

When they reached Alimounda, Ippareti was still alive. It was the first time that he had ever felt this way for another human being. From the day he was born, he had had to struggle to survive. Until now, he had never shared his life or his innermost thoughts with anyone. And yet, this woman had won his heart with a single glance.

* * *

Hegisius’ perserverance with saving Ippareti was effective. Tisius relieved the woman of the afterbirth that had remained in her womb... and the foreigner Hegisius stayed on at the estate to... look after the woman he loved, albeit keeping his distance.
Five years pass, and while the little Critius was growing up under the watchful eye of Hegisius, the clouds of war between Athens and Sparta were gathering, an omen of the great troubles to come. In this atmosphere of great expectations that war tends to inspire, the ship-owner Clinius, essentially showing indifference to his family and taking advantage of his blood-ties with Pericles, accumulates wealth from the raids of the Athenian fleet.
And this continues until Archidamus, the king of Sparta, invades Attica, thus transferring the war to Athens.
Hegisius advises Ippareti to abandon the estate in order to seek refuge in Athens. Although initially she stubbornly refuses, affected by the spreading rumours, she is eventually persuaded to go to Athens to see what the situation is like at first hand.

-5-

Chapter Two

When a city dies.

From the minute Ippareti took her seat in the carriage to the moment they arrived in Athens, neither of them made a move to break the silence. This time everything was different. The road was empty, and the carriage was flanked by a galloping group of armed slaves.
When they entered the city, they stood aghast at what they saw. Everywhere they looked, there were make-shift shacks full of people... many people, who would stop the passers-by to ask them whether they had any news about the invaders.
A little before reaching the Hill of the Muses, Hegisius was forced to bring the carriage to a halt because the road narrowed abruptly due to the many shacks which spread from the Theatre of Dionysus and reached all the way to Pnyca. Terrified, Ippareti seized his arm and pulled him towards her. Then, like a hunted animal, she started walking towards the Agora as fast as she could. When they reached the Southern Arcade it was so crowded that they had to push their way past. Hegisius lost his calm, and as he was literally being trampled, he grabbed Ippareti by the shoulders.
“Madam, I don’t understand what more you need to come to a conclusion! It’s all over. Athens is under siege. Get it into your head and, while we still have time, let’s get our things together and find shelter within the city walls to save yourself and your child.”
The woman stared at him with something akin to hate and, before Hegisius could stop her, she disappeared into the crowd to hear the speech of Cleonas (Pericles’ main political rival), who was openly blaming Pericles for his inability to act effectively against the invaders.
The voices of the crowd are getting louder and louder. Ippareti is sitting in a corner, exhausted, feeling the fear overwhelming her.
So, she had to make the decision to leave Alimounda... Hegisius was right.
On their way back towards the Hill of the Muses to find the carriage, they stopped for a while to allow the funeral procession for the dead who had been brought back after the battle of Phrygia to pass. The wailing of the women in the following, as well as the sense of the death of the young men who lay lifeless on the stretchers, made Ippareti burst inconsolably into tears, all the while held tightly in Hegisius’ embrace.
When the procession had passed, the woman composed herself, and asked him to forget what had happened.
“You have to understand... you of all people. It was the occasion and... the fear.
I didn’t have anything else in mind.”
On the road back to Alimounda, Hegisius gazed absent-mindedly towards the sea, trying to put his thoughts in order.
Today Ippareti had made him realise that he loved her even if he couldn’t admit it to himself.
For as long as he held her in his arms, he had wished to wipe away the tears and to kiss those lips that trembled from emotion.
He turned to look at her.

-6-

Her hair had come loose and flowed freely in the wind.
Her eyes were still moist and her face glowed in the light of the sun which was setting now towards Salamina.
That was it! He loved her, whether he admitted it or not!

* * *

The days that followed, and until the spring when it was decided that they should finally go to Pireaus, to Siragio on the hill which overlooks the port of Mounichias to protect themselves from the return of the Spartans, was a trying time not only for Hegisius but also for Ippareti, both of whom struggled not to let their feelings show which would have put them in a difficult position.
So, by springtime, the move to Pireaus had been completed without any particular problems and the ship-owner Clinius was... assured that there would be someone to take care of the loot brought back to Pireaus resulting from his raids.
But when the siege actually began, and large numbers of people gathered within the city walls, that terrible famine broke out which took its toll on a major part of the population.
As the scene develops into a living nightmare, and the streets fill with unburied bodies, Ippareti seeks solace in the person she loves but cannot admit to doing so.

Ippareti, who had hardly slept the night before, and forgetting the required courtesies, took Hegisius’ hands in hers and placed them on her waist.
Then she embraced him and began to weep upon his breast. Unable to pull away, he began to gently caress her hair.
“Patience, ma’am, Fortune may yet smile upon us.
Yesterday I said a prayer at the Aesculapio... we may still manage to get away...”
As the shadows of death flitted through her mind, the woman seized Hegisius by the tunic brushing his face upon her lips.
Then, she murmured under her breath;
“If I die, promise me to save Critius. You didn’t have the strength... it wasn’t proper for you to show your love to me. At least show it to my child and I’ll be waiting for you in Hades, to live in the shadows what we couldn’t live in the light...”
Hegisius grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her violently away.
There was a tone of despair in his voice.
“Ippareti, don’t toy with things that are beyond our control. If I could follow my heart our days would surely be numbered.
It is in Hades, then, that we shall probably meet again... but not just yet because you, at least, have a child to raise.

* * *

-7-

Unfortunately, Hegisius’ predictions were proved wrong and a few days later Ippareti was taken seriously ill.
Even at this crucial moment, Clinius, whose ship happened to be docked at Mounichia, refused to bring his young son under his protection for fear of he himself and his crew contracting the disease.
A few hours later, Ippareti took her dying breath in Siragio.

Her face had already taken on that strange shade of pale that was common to the victims of the famine, and when she heaved her final sigh Hegisius took her in his arms and mourned for her, letting out an irrepressible wail that had been choking him for a long time as he had struggled to contain it.
Critius, who had sensed the loss of his mother, held out his tiny arms and hugged Hegisius, begging him to protect him from evil.
Quite a while passed after Ippareti’s death and nobody seemed to show any interest in what had happened, so Hegisius arranged for the necessary preparations to be made for the deceased woman’s cremation.
The only exception being that he allowed no one to come close to her.
He bathed her body as one bathes a child, with loving care.
He applied perfumes, and wrapped her body in her beautiful garments.
Afterwards, he picked her up in his arms, and having kissed her on the lips, he placed her on the mound of wood that the slaves had made ready.
And just before dawn, he picked Critius up in his arms, and together they lit the torch, awaiting the first rays of sunlight.
A couple of steps away stood the few slaves of the estate, sharing in the bitterness of this man, who had carried such a burden in his life. They all knew that Hegisius loved Ippareti, just as she had loved him, but that nothing had come of it...
And when the first rays of sunlight appeared, hand in hand, Critius and Hegisius lit the funeral pyre for Ippareti’s passage to the place where only darkness exists... where, as she had promised, she would wait for Hegisius to live together everything they had not lived in the light of the sun which gradually began to cast its beams on the country of the living dead.

* * *

The painful return to the past is now over. Young Critius is the heir to Ippareti’s estate, according to the laws of Athenian Democracy, and the elderly supervisor is his trustee, who attempts to persuade the youth that the time has come to forgive his father, Clinius, and come to terms with the notion that nobody is perfect in this life.
In his heart of hearts, though, Hegisius fears the son’s reconciliation with his father because ship-owner Clinius, corrupted as he is living in the entourage of Alcibiades, could fairly easily influence the young Critius to choose the same way of life.
From this point on, the reader relives with archaeological and historical accuracy the developments in the heart of an age when great expectations were cultivated as to the domination of Athens in the Western Mediterranean and Africa.

-8-

And, even more importantly, they will identify with the individual stories of the novel’s heroes who are no different from the people with whom we live.
It is, nevertheless, of particular significance to stress that the accuracy of the historical facts coupled with their use in the development of the novel, together contribute to one of the features of this type of written work by which the reader draws their own conclusions about both contemporary life as well as their personal course in life.
As for the ‘myth’, just before being released from the army, young Critius meets and falls in love with Philomila, the daughter of the most powerful man in Athens, general Nicia, the political rival of Alcibiades and, by the same token, his own father’s as well.
This is essentially what prompts him to seek his father’s counsel so that he might ask him for his help.
Clinius, wanting to make up for his mistakes, tries to get his son involved in his way of life, showing off the wealth that he had obtained chiefly through the political adventurism which he had exhibited during the war against the Spartans, which had ended in favour of the Athenians purely by chance.
Critius makes the mistake of trusting him at a time when Alcibiades is once again making efforts to pressure the Athenian Council into achieving a utopia of domination in the Western Mediterranean. So when he confides in his father about his secret with Philomila, the latter at first attempts to make him forget about her, seducing him with a stunningly beautiful prostitute. However, when his plan fails he promises his son that, with the help of Alcibiades, a secret encounter can be arranged but in order to marry her... he will have to earn titles and recognition in the forthcoming Sicilian Expedition.
The remainder of the novel is intriguing with an unexpected twist at the end, which is sealed with the following epigram:

‘ Stranger, we do not weep for unfulfilled dreams,
Which, after all, are but dreams that fade away,
Nor for the youth who perished outside the walls of Syracuse,
For the Syracuses of the mind we mourn,
That will forever charm us without mercy.’

Πήραμε τη ζωή μας λάθος!

2011-12-03T13:33:00.000-08:00

Κι όμως στο τέλος αυτής της απίστευτης διαδρομής που διανύσαμε ως έθνος τα τελευταία διακόσια χρόνια,βρέθηκαν αρπακτικά που κατασπατάλησαν τον εθνικό πλούτο και μάς καταδίκασαν να ζήσουμε ως επαίτες στο όνομα της κοινοβουλευτικής δημοκρατίας.
Σιωπή και περίσκεψη λοιπόν!

Έλληνες και ιστορία!

2011-12-03T03:59:00.000-08:00

Ευφυώς ο Ιταλός Υπουργός Οικονομικών αναφερόμενος στην κρίση χρέους της χώρας μας δήλωσε πως "Οι Έλληνες εξάγουν περισσότερη ιστορία απ'όση παράγουν εσωτερικά"!
Προφανώς δεν παράγουμε ιστορία εδώ και πολλά χρόνια.Η κρίση των Ιμίων είναι ένα πρόδηλο παράδειγμα μη παραγωγής ιστορίας...για δυό ακατοίκητες βραχονησίδες,που θα μπορούσαν να συμπαρασύρουν στον πόλεμο έναν "ευημερούντα"λαό,που επρόκειτο μάλιστα να μπει στην τροχιά των τυχερών κρατών της Ευρωζώνης,με εγγυημένο το μέλλον του!
Όταν όμως ένας λαός,επειδή ακριβώς δεν έχει "εθνικό όραμα",δεν παράγει ιστορία εκφυλίζεται και εξαφανίζεται.
Είναι νόμος της ιστορίας,που την αγνοούμε επιδεικτικά και αρνούμαστε να παραδεχτούμε πως έχουμε φτάσει στο τέλος της ιστορίας μας.
Άρα δεν έχουμε μόνο κρίση χρέους.Έχουμε βαθύτατη υπαρξιακή κρίση ως έθνος,γιατί πάψαμε να ονειρευόμαστε,να ελπίζουμε και να πιστεύουμε σε αρχές και οράματα.
Και δεν κλαίω για τα αγέννητα παιδιά μας ,αλλά για τα παιδιά που δε γεννήθηκαν,επειδή οι γεννήτορες τους πέθαναν στα πεδία των μαχών,στα κελιά βασανιστών και στα στρατόπεδα συγκέντρωσης,επειδή πίστευαν πως υπέρτατο αγαθό στη ζωή είναι η ελευθερία!
Και όταν ένας λαός έχει φτάσει πλέον στο τέλος της ιστορίας του,ό,τι ανιστόρητο του σερβίρεται εύκολα το αναμασά και το αναπαράγει προς δόξαν των άδοξων ηγετών μας!