Last week I was in Crete on the Greek Day of Independence. This is a big day in the national calendar and there was to be a parade through the town I was in – as there would be all across Greece.
The main street was lined with people of all ages, and speakers on stands had been set up at intervals. There was a hum of expectation in the air, and latecomers hurried to their places. Then, loud, stirring military music was played through the speakers and the parade began. First of course was the Greek flag followed by adults and children dressed in national costumes from different parts of Greece. They wore long dresses for the women with finely brocaded tops and headscarves. They came in many different colours and the children wore the same costume in miniature. You could see they were so proud to be showing us this tradition of bygone times. The younger ones looked equally proud and looked set to me to be continuing this for many years to come.
The rest of the parade was a lot of different school-age children and young people marching along together with their teachers. First came the young ones – reception school age and below and applauded as they marched along. They held hands in rows helping them to keep time with their teachers. They wore caps and scarves and jeans or white tights. I noticed how polished their shoes were – there was a pride taken in their appearance. They presumably came from different schools in the area.
Next were top junior/lower secondary age whose marching was of a higher level. Perhaps they had been practising. One group was led by a Greek flag-holding student and a pupil who didn’t find the marching easy but who wasn’t hidden away but proudly led the way.
Finally came larger groups of white shirt, dark scarf and blue jeans wearing teenagers. Some had drums to keep time and some teachers brought along whistles which they blew in rhythms that kept time but sounded like a rap. They moved as one – some more sheepishly and others with a sense of pride. It was very moving. Some of the adolescents you sensed were dealing with self-consciousness and why wouldn’t they – who liked being stared at when they were a teenager?
I sensed it was a time to be proud of being Greek, of their country of who they were. It took me back to 1998 when I took a group of Theatretrain students to Thessaloniki to perform a play hosted by my friends Rita and Fortis at the Poupoulou Theatre Studio. Being a large city there were even tanks as part of the parade.
There’s something about a parade where you can feel part of something bigger and where you can look in and see people for a few moments being part of it. It seems to unite people.
