Loudspeaker van trolling the neighbourhood this morning. Well, possibly trolling in more than one sense of the word, as there is an election coming up on February 5, coincidentally the day we leave the republic. We’re used to a white loudspeaker van passing daily but it has a one word message: πατάτες - patates - potatoes. This broadcast however is quite different. Full sentences and nothing concrete to sell, but it’s Greek to us. Cypriots do take politics seriously, viscerally. Looked for old blog posting re the night the late President Christofias was elected. Took a while as it was posted at a previous blog site that was not searchable. Also, in those days had to transcribe journal at some pretty unsatisfactory internet spots with too little time and virtually no ability to correct past typos. But still an interesting memory of February 24/08:
“It's the run-off election day, so we turn on the television, minus the (Greek) sound, and it rapidly becomes apparent that Christofias, the Communist candidate, has won. By the time there is a formal announcement, we can hear the car horns in the street and I, still an old Quebecker at heart, recognise the first sounds of victory.
So J and I walk down to the waterfront to see the endless parade of cars and people. Flags everywhere - Cypriot and Communist, a few with the image of Che Guevara - and me here without my Che sweatshirt. There are poeple walking along carrying large flags or draped in Cypriot flags or AKEL party banners. Those in the cars, circling non-stop, wave flags and trail banners. People sit in the windows of cars and occasionally on the roof, and stand in the back of pick-up trucks. A quad careens along tilting onto two wheels and motorcycles with helmeted and (mostly) unhelmeted riders whiz by. Car hazard lights blink, horns blow and people are blowing hand-held horns as well. One pick-up truck is making a sound like a ship's fog horn, fuelled by a generator in the back of the truck.
There is, remarkably, little sign of drink - are the shouting and waving people simply high on their own delight? It's a curious mixture of innocence and idiocy. There are firecrackers and hand-held tins of fountaining fireworks. Cars screech to a stop after jack-rabbit starts and I fear for those sitting in their windows. There are competitions between drivers jamming on their brakes and revving their engines. Huge clouds of smoke rise. Have they completely blown that engine? One young man holds the handlebars of his motorcycle and swings it in endless circles around him. Another turns circles, sitting on his motorcycle, reared up on its back wheel, the admiring crowd so close that any loss of control could be a fatality. Country fair, J says. We see a motorbike afterward on the sidewalk, its rear wheel tire totally bare.
I remark to J that what is missing are the police that would be present in Canada or the UK - not stopping the parade but a general watchful presence in the interests of safety. He laughs and suggests that they're probably deliberately not observing some of what is going on. And so it seems. We walk back the length of the front, past young men dancing conga-style in the street, to Europa Square - almost empty except fo the ten policeman chatting with each other, backs to the road.
Back at the Eleonora we chat with Christos. He has voted of course - it's compulsory in Cyprus. If you don't, the authorities are round to know the reason - do you have a doctor's certificate? He talks about the rapid growth on Cyprus and the housing explosion. A few years ago there were 600,000 people and now nearly a million. Costs are not much lower than the rest of Europe, but wages are. He began work for 2 pounds a week at the age of 12 and in his teens had to beg for a raise in order to buy a pair of long trousers. It was difficult, he says. It's no wonder he has sold this ploace after 60 years of work. But he has not done badly over the time. He has 3 children and he has given each of them 2 houses. Will the next generation of young Cypriots be as lucky?”
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