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The horror of facing the onetime beauty Medusa with a million snakes writhing from her head. On the trail of the Golden Fleece. Medea, killing her children. A King falling from Sounion in despair that his son was dead, while in reality the son had merely forgotten his father, in his joy to have defeated the Minotaur. Soaring with Pegasus the winged-horse. Powerful goddesses that could hunt, fight or tame a wild owl. A mother’s committed searching for a daughter snatched by Hades. The stories and characters that prepared me for conflict, pain and also joy. These are the stories that as a Greek child I grew up with and that shaped who I am today and why I cannot turn down a challenge or a good cause.

Dimitri Tsafendas

Being a Greek person in South Africa is not always easy. It’s not just about “kleftiko” roasting in the oven with the rosemary permeating the house. Oily hands from making “kourambiedes” with “yiayia”, placing the cloves neatly in the middle of the moon-shaped biscuit or about dancing to the gay bouzouki and breaking plates. It’s about always being different and proudly so. It’s about a close knit family that intensely tackles life and follows established traditions. Perhaps it was that closeness and inflexibility that resulted in Dimitri Tsafendas, the illegitimate child of a Cretan father and a coloured Mozambican woman ending his days in a mental asylum. Our greatest desire is to belong to a family and to a community and in those days Tsafendas a child of mixed race was probably not very well accepted by either parent’s family. At school he was ridiculed for his complexion and called “blackie”. Perhaps a loving supportive mother, an aunt or father could have advised and kept his temperament under control and helped him to have a happier life. Nevertheless, he ended up stabbing and killing, the architect of apartheid, Hendrik Verwoerd and shaping South Africa’s history. Did this Greek hero like so many others offend the gods of Olympus? Was his fault narcissism or greed for riches or fame? How horrifying to have the Midas touch and to turn your dear child to a statue of gold. It seems Greek myths were more than fanciful stories but rather a psychological analysis of how brilliance can fall or be twisted.

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