I have been MIA this past week for a very good reason. I went to the Greek Islands (Kos, Santorini and Mykonos) with one of my friends from Sydney. I wasn’t anxious about going to Greece, but I had watched a documentary about immigrant families (I think) from Afghanistan or somewhere in the Middle East who has travelled/escaped with only the clothes on their back and no money to Greece. How they got there, I don’t remember. However, they ended up sleeping in the streets of Athens and going to food banks on a daily basis to survive. Besides that, I had heard that Greece wasn’t too friendly towards Africans and with their economic downturn, concerns came to mind.
I have been to Paris, been to Barcelona, Florence and a few other places and I have seen fellow Africans hustle. I am talking about the brothers you see aggressively chasing tourists at the Eiffel Tower to purchase plastic souvenirs or the Aunty in Malaga who comes around whilst you are eating dinner begging you to at least buy one thing from her because that’s probably the only thing she would sell that day. I was nervous about the Greek islands because of this. Seeing people who could very well be your Aunty or your cousin hustling the kind of hustle you will never experience and are you powerless to take them out of that situation.
First stop, we were in Kos. Not an African local in sight. Then to Santorini. Not an African local in sight either. It was almost like we were playing a game trying to spot the African. Finally in Mykonos we saw five or six locals, mostly males. My friend spotted one guy who was club promoting near our hotel. She walked passed him, heard him say something and then said to me I think he is Ghanaian. I said we should turn around and ask him. My friend’s instincts were right. We got the ball rolling with some Ghana talk and where we were from. I asked him how long he had been in Greece/Mykonos? Did he like it? He said he had been in Greece for four years. Three of those years in Mykonos. He hated Greece as a whole but loved Mykonos and was okay with the fact that he could make a living in the summer, but once the summer was over, it was difficult. He acknowledged that it could be worse and he knows that others have it tougher than he does else where.
A new branch from the narrative of the African in the Diaspora.
In terms of hospitality and openness, the locals were AMAZING. Like Marrakesh, we appeared to the locals as exotic creatures with long braided hair. Once you get over that hurdle, it’s bliss. A must do trip. Santorini in particular #breathtaking.
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