I spent a good while this morning editing a video I took, at a concert in Dandenong some time last year, of a gorgeous Greek woman by the name of Helen. I then put in a call to the residence where we met to ask her if she would mind if I shared the video. I was told rather matter-of-factly by the woman at the desk that Helen was no longer with us. Again I was reminded of the fragility of these elders and roused by a sense of humility of sadness and of urgency.

Helen spoke very little English, I spoke no Greek, and sang even less, yet she was one of the most engaged residents at the concert and gave of herself fully, as you will see in the video below. She asked me a couple of times if I could please sing something Greek, I confessed that I didn’t even have Zorba in my repertoire, and she laughed. I suggested that she might like to sing something for us, instead. Her Greek peers began to natter and clap and rowdily offer suggestions. Helen kept her composure – she was a handsome, statuesque woman. She steadied herself, straightened up her collar, her hair, decided it would be best if in fact she sat, and then broke my heart with an beautifully earnest rendition of an old Greek folk song, Down in the Villages of Valtos.  

I later discovered with a little help from the Greek community that it was written in 1821, about the time of the Greek war of independence. She had an incredible voice and I wished we’d shared enough of the same language for me to ask her a little about her life. Some of the stories I’ve heard tucked away in nursing homes and dementia units have truly blown me away. After some trepidation I have decided to share the video of Helen and it is with deep respect and fondness that I do so. I hope you enjoy the video as much as I did the performance.

Thanks to Steve at the Greek Orthodox Community of Melbourne and Victoria for identifying this song:

Κάτω στου βάλτου τα χωριά
Ξηρόμερο και Άγραφα
Και στα πέντε βιλαέτια
Φάτε, πιείτε μωρ’ αδέρφια.

Εκεί είν’ οι Κλέφτες οι πολλοί
ούλοι ντυμένοι στο φλούρι
κάθονται και τρων και πίνουν
και την Άρτα φοβερίζουν.

Πιάνουν και γράφουν μια γραφή
βρίζουν τα γένια του κατή
γράφουνε και στο Κομπότι
προσκυνούνε το δεσπότη.

Βρε Τούρκοι κατσετε καλα
γιατί σας καίμε τα χωριά!
Γρήγορα το αρματολίκι
γιατ’ ερχόμαστε σα λύκοι.

 And thanks to Adrianna and her mother for the English translation:

Down by the swampy villages

Ksiromero and Ayrafa

and the five counties

Eat, drink dear siblings.

There are the kleftes a many

all dressed in flouri

(gold coins, worn on a string)

they sit and eat and drink

and Arta they torment.

They grab and write a letter

they abuse the beard of the Turkish General

they also write to Komboti

they pray to the bishop.

Hey Turks behave

because we will burn your villages!

Quickly the armatoliki

because we are coming like wolves.