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Embrace and Gap:

An Odyssey of Emotions in the Events of the 1953 Kefalonia Earthquakes.

Sisyphean doom : Poseidon's revenge on Odysseus

Kefalonia, the place of the people, who are looking for the signs of their history. Home of youth with deep peace and tireless landscapes. Tough and seductive, it shows the immense difficulty of life in the face.

The great woes of this proud island are the earthquakes and the withering of foreignness. The great, thunderous and destructive earthquakes. The rocks, often dancing to the rhythms of destruction in one place, or even the whole island. The fault located off Kefalonia, part of the Greek tectonic arc, is responsible for the constant earthquake tremors. When the earth roars, everything comes crashing down. Man's survival instinct seeks a new shelter, far from the embrace of the motherland. Immigrants from Kefalonia scatter to the rest of Greece and abroad.

Nowadays, anti-seismic constructions convince with their modern know-how that buildings are made to last and stay. But that's how it was back then!

Almost every hundred or two hundred years, a complete "fall" occurs in Kefalonia. The earthquakes, waking up abruptly, do not spare either the poor or the rich. They destroy everything in their path. In August 1953, the magnitude of the tragedy marked hearts and world history.

However elaborate the stones, however deep the foundations, however deep the foundations, even if we build our houses with wood alone, the presence of the great earthquakes will be with us forever. But who is it that hunts Kefalonia?

Who was he who woke up again, in August 1953 after his last subhuman feast (6.8 chills) in 1912; perhaps the "earthquake-enemy" Neptune, Odysseus' greatest enemy, who hunts him through the centuries to take his revenge.

Kefalonia 1953: hours of destruction and despair

Friday 7 August 1953: the first tremor occurs in Kefalonia and Ithaca. The fact that it does not continue creates reassurance.

Saturday 8 August: fire in a house in Argostoli. Not even five hours away was the big evil!

Sunday 9 August: at 7:41 a.m. the first big earthquake starts east of Ithaca with a magnitude of 6.4-6.5 R. At 9:41 a.m. the first earthquake in Kefalonia occurs. Major damage in Sami, Pylaros and Erisso. 34 dead in the town of Sami alone. Concern is evident throughout the island. No one but fate can imagine that this is only the beginning! In Ithaca, the tangible truth of the disaster counts the first dead. The wounded are transported to Argostoli.

Monday 10 August: a large earthquake and many small ones shake Argostoli and all of Kefalonia. In Lixouri, several people decide to sleep in their yards.

Tuesday 11 August: strong earthquake at 5:30 in the morning all over the island. The rocks are piled up. The road network is buried under the boulders that brought down the big mountains. Cars, without a road are useless. Dead, injured, dying on the road. Greek Red Cross crews arrive from Patras. Everyone sets up makeshift tents. Imagination foreshadows the worst nightmare. In thoughts, a silent desert of ruins is painted. And the great earthquake still waits...

Wednesday, August 12: All but sleepless received the rays of dawn. At about 11:25 a.m., there was the largest earthquake in intensity recorded chronologically in the history of modern Greece. First, the retreating roar and a slight shifting of the ground. Enceladus, with all his army, emerged! What followed was the face of death: screeching from the bowels of the earth, roaring, screaming, all the animals howling, the bell towers, the houses, the mansions, the huts, all shattered. Rocks and boulders crawled from the high mountains and flattened the caste states of the villages; the over 7 tremors gave birth to a horror. This horror lasted less than a minute. The diverse landscape of Kefalonia, with its great contrasts, the bald mountains, the black fir trees, the coloured sand, the hundred shades of blue, became one colour, one image. Everywhere, dust and destruction reigned.

Those who had no victims to cry for turned into superhumans: they lift sticks and stones, find the trapped, treat the wounded. The Red Cross and the health workers are working non-stop. A few hours later, the summer midday heat became unbearable. It was then that the Cephalonians began to understand that the calamities were now beginning: the first suffering came : it was thirst! The aqueducts had been destroyed, the wells had dried up.

The ability of the Kefalonian to navigate the irregular roads was no longer useful. There are no streets, alleys, neighborhoods, paths. Only a sea of stones. Everyone, those who experienced the indescribably horrific events and those who see the ruins, mourn. The doctors, feeling the bodies, say only two words : yes, which means he is dead, or no, he is still alive but you have to stack him with the wounded.

Everything is ruined. If the eye can pick out a skeleton of a building, it is not solid. The priests, they hold funerals and burn incense in ruined churches. This is the picture in the cities now. In the villages, the situation is worse. The most difficult task: extrication!

In Argostoli, the rescue was tragic! Especially in the court house of Argostoli where the cries of the dozens of trapped people could be heard for days without any help until their souls were lifted to the heavenly vaults.

In the evening, all of Kefalonia was covered by darkness. The entire power supply network had been cut off in Argostoli and Lixouri, since the two production plants had been destroyed, as well as some smaller ones in large villages on the island. Worst of all, a fire broke out. From the church of Archangelos to Agios Gerasimos in Argostoli. Is there a more tragic phantasmagoria?

Thursday 13 August 1953: the rescues do not stop. All local volunteer corps were mobilized. Help has arrived. First the Israelis with four warships conducting exercises in the Ionian and Adriatic, then the British who happened to be sailing nearby. Along with them were the Americans, who were also on the exercise. Shortly afterwards, the Greek fleet arrived, carrying the Greek army.

Those who had found themselves in Argostoli or Lixouri on business returned anxiously to their villages to see if there was a house or a family. In Lixouri some building facades from afar were deceiving. But when you squinted, you could see that there was nothing else. Residents with fear painted all over their bodies carried what was left inside their demolished houses. First count: 386 dead. 49,800 homeless, the entire population of the island, an unprecedented event!

Friday 14 August: On the eve of the great feast. The priests, stopping the funerals to conduct a service on the demolished Holy Banks. The first Greek ships arrived. They brought sanitary material, blankets, tents. At 11 o'clock in the morning, the royal couple arrived.

On that day, the rumours began. Those who came to Sami, Poros, Lixouri, Argostoli, brought news from the villages. Whatever everyone longed for, they believed and reported as fact.

And the earthquakes didn't stop. The earth vibrated and would continue to vibrate for days. Feelings had become very poor compared to reality. Terror, pain, agony, anguish, indignation. There was nothing left to feel. Only one emotion was slowly beginning to peak : flight! In the afternoon, the gunboats began to take people away. The first 730 people left on the ship "Alpheus". The farewell was forgotten. They were all scrambling to get in line to leave. From all the islands people were setting out to get to the booth, to a port, to ships to leave the island. The rumours that the island was going to sink had taken hold. The uprooting was beginning!

In the large squares, people with bogus were gathering. In the square of Argostoli, old people, children, young people, prisoners, sick people were embraced. The wounded were receiving first aid in makeshift tents and were transported by boat to Patras.

The dance of tremors did not stop. 28 aftershocks! Even the professor of seismology and director of the Geodynamic Institute, who came to Kefalonia to reassure the residents that the island would not sink!

Saturday 15 August 1953: the fifteenth day of the long despair! In Argostoli, food is scarce. In Lixouri, no oven is left standing. The priests used as bread an American pasteurized bread. On a table the mass was celebrated. The suffering souls, in their torment, gathered around the altar. The withered hearts wept. The children were silent, as if they had submitted to suffering. Still, hope could not take root in the mind. After the service, the mail was distributed. The church became the place where you could find all the living. The identity was the person. No one had an address anymore.

Sunday 16 August 1953: the patron saint of the island, on the backs of the earthquake victims, blesses the land. The relic of Saint Gerasimos is consecrated in Omala. A church does not exist. The nuns find a blooming honeysuckle on the road.

And now?

The eyes cannot get used to the huge quarry into which their property, their soul, their country has been turned! In the vast graveyard of white, sparsely standing half-ruined walls. "What a tragic banquet of grief!"

The people, until the clothing arrives, walk about as they were found at noon on Wednesday. They began to feel their basic needs. They had not washed for five days. Everyone is covered in dust. On the beach, makeshift barbershops are set up.

17, 18, 19, 20, 25, 30, 31 August: The memory hardens each time it remembers. It becomes a stone on the stone that was destroyed. The descriptions are not extreme exaggerations of the imagination. They are the crack in the story of truth. When the great seismic activity stops and there is nothing left to shatter, silence spreads. "A monotony, a stillness, a picture of annihilation, of waiting." No consolation in the pain of silence.

The silence did not have time to inaugurate its reign. A new buzz, mechanical, spread throughout the land. They began to tear down. The time of burial arrived. Ninety-three percent of the houses affected were deemed damaged and beyond repair. But no one was willing to leave their ruins. There was all their joy and misery. The walls that hung like wet paper were their whole life. In there, they had lived their joys, and now, death crouched with the children in their cribs, with the old men in their beds. The cracks had become nests of horrible memory!

Who would save the island?

The local authorities, the government, the king, the foreigners, are all shocked. The governments of foreign countries and the Greek expatriates, particularly moved, are giving their utmost assistance. The leftovers of the heart send courage, money, help. The Greek state is trying to convince people not to leave, not to desert Kefalonia! Scientists are taking measurements. The state decides to rebuild immediately. Eager engineers offer their services free of charge. Others design architectural monsters that cannot be built on the island for any reason.

The press, Greek and foreign, is following the events closely. It tries to exploit every new piece of information, even if it has not been confirmed by all sides. The first earthquake on 7 August was not reported because of the lack of continuity of the tremors. On 9 August, after the disasters in Sami, and after 10 August, the news starts. The newspapers Avgi, Nea, Vima, Ethnos, Eleftheria, Apovegmatini, Athinaiki, Kathimerini.

The foreign press is also projecting the scale of the disaster. Le monde, Nouvelle de Grece, Le Patriote Illustre, etc... In all the depictions of the tension, anguish and destruction, human tragedy prevails.

A newspaper local to Kefalonia, took months to be published.

Stone and emotion:

The people, remembering the roots of their tradition, start a dirge. The dirge of the earthquakes! From mouth to mouth, everyone hums the calamity. Through the lamentation, terror, anguish, fear are expressed. The hope, which has never been lacking in the soul of our island, is conveyed in every verse:

"If the mountains were lowered,

"If only I could see the Levant,

to see Kefalonia

and beautiful Zante.

Now they are lowered

with tearful eyes,

you'll see only ruins

and houses in ruins.

Why do they ring mournfully

The bells sadly ring

Why do they weep around us

And children and mothers weep!

For a great calamity has fallen on our islands

And lost our beautiful sweet Kefalonia.

My little Kefalonian girl,

don't cry and don't sigh

And the time will come again

and be happy.

Oh, holy Gerasimos

stop your earthquakes,

save the rest of us

the rest of the inhabitants of your island.

O Virgin Mary Despina

and Mother of Christ,

protect your world

by night and by day.

Almighty God

and His Holy Hand

after the calamity

and joy will bring."

3000 earthquakes have occurred since 9 August. The monks counted each aftershock with an Our Father. September came with severe weather, wild weather!

Was this disturbance meant to be?

Who should ask forgiveness for this terrible disaster? All over the island, all the stones that fell and worshipped the great earthquake, through the stains of destruction, ask for forgiveness. The cracks, singing to a different tune. If you listen to it, if you synchronize with them, you will understand that the air that penetrates them, sculpts their corners and makes them look like women's hands praying, for forgiveness. This melody is a different kind of forgiveness!

After the upheaval of reason:

Everything changed. The world, civilization, history.

Man now takes on a new identity. He is called an earthquake victim. His life is called a wreck and his life moves between tents, shacks and motels. The Great Rift, divides the history of Kefalonia into "pre-earthquake" and "post-earthquake" eras.

People were slowly convinced by time that they had to live again. Kefalonians wake up every morning less scared. They found their unmeasured resilience. They begin to imagine hope, to remember old habits. The good memories are confused with the horrible memory. Life began to roll back into the tents.

The children, filling their handfuls with the crushed sand from the ruins. They let the sand fall between their fingers. Then they look away and listen to the birds singing!

The first dreams come. Sad, black and white, but enough to lull the children to sleep. And through it all, nature remained tragically beautiful!

But time passed and the world began to get confused. The mechanisms of the state worked in an uncoordinated way. In Argostoli, the ruins have been demolished and whatever material could be used for reconstruction is being collected. In contrast, Lixouri was half alive, half dead. The ruins could not make you forget. The last ruin became one with the soil in 2003.

The sewerage and water supply networks were built. Reconstruction began in 1954. The stone climbing was done slowly. The houses that were built were called the "relief" houses. They were certainly not at all similar to the earlier dwellings. The public buildings were only somewhat familiar with the pre-earthquake buildings in the eye of the world. Argostoli, the most beautiful urban city in the Mediterranean will never exist again.

The children returned to school. New businesses opened. Everything started to work again at its old pace. Over the years, the earthquake-stricken Kefalena became the quirky guy with the intellectual acumen and satirical wit again. His spiritual concerns began to overwhelm his heart again.

70 years later :

Argostoli, Lixouri, Sami, Livatho, Agia Efimia, Poros, the villages, were revived by new souls who did not inherit the terror. But the memory? 70 years have passed, is there anyone who can forget?

Many left and never returned. Few remain. Few returned. But no one has forgotten that he was born in Kefalonia! A place whose inhabitants are possessed by tremendous spiritual concerns. Always searching for Odysseus, ancient and modern. They search for his tomb and his palace. Sometimes they find it hidden in the mountains, buried in the stones. Sometimes they lose it again. And again, they take to the ship and search like another Telemachus.

I was born in Kefalonia. As a genuine child of Kefalonia I started to look for it. In our wanderings, all of us, searching for ourselves, got lost. Tears and anguish, life gave us. We began to long for home. The grandeur of our homeland never left our thoughts. And so we returned to where we knew we would never be alone. Even when everything around us was shaking, falling, falling apart, we were rebuilding.

"Kefalonia gave us the Odyssean agony to know the world" (A. Tritsis).

No matter how many years pass, there are two thoughts that will overwhelm us : the memory, which will become harder and harder each time it is remembered, and the pride of origin.

"I am whole made for my country. As long as I remember, I have no regrets. If I were ever born again, this is the place I would want to be born again!"

Because "on Homer's sandy beaches the sirens still sing" (N. Souris).