Firecrackers and Easter Bunnies...

Spring is finally here, the clocks have turned and it is time to enjoy the long days and mild weather, time for boots to be packed away and for sandals to come out. Trees are showing their petals, birds are humming and everything is generally pleasant. Another holiday is upon us, Easter. In Cyprus this is celebrated more than Christmas with more custom and feeling. People go on a fifty day fast, or as in my case a week's. For some reason, for one week only, nobody has anything bad to say about anyone. "Aftes einai ayies meres," (these are holy days) they conclude.

Easter is full of delicious smells. My grandmother's garden with the smell of orange blossom and soil after a spring shower, the flaounes baking merrily in the oven and the fresh bread hot and eaten with melted butter, if you're not fasting. In church on Friday there is the flowery scent of the Epitaph, the candles burning and the incense. Church is jam packed during these days, especially Holy Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The services are long. I take a prayer book to read during  the ceremony. It kills time. It's also an opportunity to look around the church. It's mainly the old generation who are there first and who most of the time have their appointed seat, but you get people my age too, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, tiny toddlers and adolescents trailing through the crowded aisles looking for a pastime. The ceremony does get a bit boring for them, you see.

This holiday like all the others is surely to go off with a bang.  What do I mean? I mean firecrackers. Youths find nothing better than stunning pious churchgoers with loud bangs and crackles during the service, while the priest tries to concentrate and not lose his place over the conundrum.Eagerly awaiting holy communion after striving on a fifty day fast, the old women mumble and curse under their breath, although it's a sin.

Easter Saturday however is the climax and it has taken days of preparation, days of collecting old wooden chairs and matresses and guarding them overnight, like you would guard your life. Each church you see is competing on who will make the biggest fire to burn the scarecrow- like resemblance of Judas. But that isn't the point anymore. The point is to make the biggest fire. It is not unusual for the local fire brigade to make an appearance after calls that the electricity poles are about to catch fire. This is happening as the rest of us arrive holding a candle ready to hear the priest annnouce the Ressurection. It's a magical moment. The candles cast shadows on people's faces, softening their features and hair. Babies like little angels look around curiously. Everyone sings. The small neighbourhood of Linopetra is for one night assembled by the little church, united despite everything.

Easter Sunday is a day of feasting, something which us Cypriots are very good at. The hypermarkets have already bombarded us with their offers. It's all about the lamb and how well we we cook it to make up for the fifty days that some people have gone without meat.It is quite sad that some people end up in hospital for overeating and drinking. After all fifty days is a long time to go without meat. Then there's the eggs which have been painted red which everyone takes delight in smashing. Before you know it, Easter is over and it's back to routine, but with a lighter heart.