Good Friday and the Anastasi 1989 ( from my Diary)

Easter is the biggest celebration of the year here in Crete, Christmas coming a poor second. During holy week of 1989 preparations were underway by families all over the Island. On every second corner I would find a lamb or goat tied up for slaughter. Sometimes I came across one already dead and hanging from a tree while it was skinned and cleaned. This is certainly not a place to be squeamish. The women would be cleaning the innards, often in the freezing cold fast flowing waters of the mountain streams, to make seasonal specialties such as Easter soup, ‘Mayiritsa’, made from offal and rice with an egg and lemon sauce, with which they would break the Lenten fast on their return from the midnight service They were also making cheese pies and dying hard-boiled eggs with bright red colourings ready for the feast.

For the previous few days wherever I went I had been given Easter biscuits which I usually secreted away in my pockets to dispose of later, as I really do not like them, but there is no escaping them at this time of the year.

On Good Friday morning I walked down towards the church and watched the women and girls as they gathered flowers from the village gardens. Their choice was a little limited due to the early date of Easter, but the lilies were in full bloom and also the anemones, lupins and narcissi. They carried all the flowers to the church in a large sheet, to decorate the bier, on which would lay the image of the crucified Christ, to be carried around the village in procession during the evening service.

The men and boys were otherwise occupied and could be seen dragging tree branches down the road to build into the Easter bonfire. A few of them standing guard all night in case of raids from nearby villagers, hunting for something to make their own fires larger!

At about eight pm the congregation began to gather. Many people standing outside the church as it was too small to accommodate everyone. The men smoking and chattering as the service began. The women, rather more pious, standing inside the church, but still turning to greet or speak to a friend. They didn’t seem to have the same respect for the priest that I had been expecting.

The celebrant in his purple robes of lent sprinkled holy water and waved the incense burner smelling of Myrrh and Frankincense. The strong perfume of the flowers mingling with the incense until it became quite overpowering.

After a while the bier was lifted onto the strong shoulders of a few village lads and the procession began. We followed the priest carrying the gold covered Bible and the altar boys carrying various church relics, as we processed around the village and into the cemetery, the altar boys looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. I felt sure that they would revert to their usual state of rowdiness immediately the service ended.

Here we stopped while the Priest said a prayer for the souls of the departed and gave many individual blessings. The families congregated around their family tombs lighting the little oil lamps and remembering their loved ones. Families had spent hours cleaning and tidying the tombs during the week so they were ready for this moment.

After a while the procession wound its way back to the Church. The bearers stopped outside the door, lifted their burden high and we all entered, stooping underneath the flower strewn bier, which was supposed to bring good fortune for the following year. At the end of the service the flowers were stripped from the bier and taken home by the congregation, leaving it denuded and bare as it had been the day before.

All the next day the church bells tolled the death knell at regular intervals. DAN DA DAN, DAN DA DAN.

The housewives were busy making last minute preparations for the feasting to come. 

I dressed warmly as I prepared to go to the midnight service. It was, as I expected, quite cold.

“Don’t wear anything flammable.” I had been warned “The fire can get out of control and the boys throw fireworks.”

The church and its courtyard were crowded with all the villagers thronging to take part in the service, this being the most important day of the year in the church calendar. We were all decked in our best clothes and the children dressed like little dolls, their faces alight with anticipation and wonder.

Everyone carried unlit candles, the children’s often decorated with a toy or small gift.

Just before midnight all the lights were turned out. Then the priest began. “Christos Anesti” “Christ is risen” and from his one candle, the other candles were lit, the flame being passed quickly from one to the next. The holy flame had been transported to Crete earlier in the day from the Jerusalem and dispersed to the clergy by the patriarch. The bells rang out joyfully on the night air, men and boys taking turns to ring them. The bonfire was lit and on top of it I could see a stuffed effigy which resembled a Guy Fawkes; it turned out to be Judas. Burning Judas the betrayer, is an important part of the ritual. Fireworks and even small camping gas cylinders were thrown on the flames by some of the young lads making it rather unsafe to go too close. The young, and often not so young, boys also found it amusing to throw bangers at the feet of passers by. Not so funny for the rest of us and I suffered quite a bad burn when I didn’t step out of the way fast enough.

Guns were being fired over our heads and an atmosphere of festivity was in the air as the churchgoers returned to their homes to begin the feasting and celebrating for which they had been waiting, everyone trying to take their candles home still alight, to make the sign of the cross over the threshold for prosperity and happiness in the following year.

Mayritsa - the traditional way to break the fast

Many youngsters remained to spend the evening around the bonfire cooking potatoes and pork chops in the embers. They also continued to ring the bell long into the early hours. I walked back up to my room and lay awake listening to the sound of the guns mixed with the joyful pealing of the bells. As I snuggled down in bed I could hear another burst of gunfire came from somewhere nearby. Where on earth did someone get a machine gun? Perhaps it was better not to ask.

(The photos are from a later Easter)