Tammy: I was born in South Africa and I am 22 years old. And ummm…. Basically in South Africa when, you know growing up that you shouldn’t go to the beaches on New Year’s day because that is when all the colored people will be at the beaches and you know that the streets are going to be just absolutely crazy, so you don’t go outside that day.

The beliefs Tammy described growing up “just knowing” do clearly represent the political and social climate of South Africa. Additionally, the way the meaning or suggestion behind these beliefs was overlooked by Tammy, her peers, and others within her culture, proves how saturated the South African culture is with such views. The sense of fear associated with interacting with the black population is engrained within their culture. Tammy describes these beliefs as second nature; not something they spent time analyzing or inquiring about, but rather sort of common sense of South African life. The underlying racism evident in their unwillingness to be at the beach with the black South Africans along with the fear within these beliefs notably depicts the social issues plaguing South Africa. Tammy was not flippant in her reference to these beliefs. She clearly understood the negative connotation attached to her performance yet she was blatant in her delivery, indicating the how matter of fact and prevalent they were in South African culture. These cultural “givens” all encompass a sense of anxiety, specifically in reference to black South African citizens. Tammy’s description of the known expectation for violence (getting “mugged”) reveals the culture’s instability and acceptance of their uneasy way of life.

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Pladw kou lourakia

Me ta dou cerakia

• o joutnos da ta yush

To soiti da murish

Kneading the lourakia (specific Greek Easter shortbread cookie)

With the our hands little

The oven will bake

The house will smell

Kneading the cookie dough

With our little hands

In the oven it will bake

And fill the house with a good smell

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

Kano palamakia

Me ta duo cerakia

(This one verse is repeated over and over)

I make little dough

With my two hands little

I make the dough

With my two little hands

Above are two Greek nursery rhymes passed down within my family. Although my mom and her siblings specifically remember this from their mother, my grandfather, who is from a different part of Greece, recalls learning these rhymes as a child as well. My grandmother does not recall the context in which she learned the rhymes, just that she has always known them. I have witnessed this lore in performance by the woman in my family, and even by my non-Greek father, during any interaction with babies. My grandmother claims that it is a “way to speak to the little babies” and a way to be animated with them.  My grandmother and other family members recite these rhymes to any baby they are playing with no matter if they are Greek or not. Thus, it is clearly a playful practice of connecting with young babies.

The translations of the rhymes indicate the Greek culture’s emphasis on food. Both are about making dough and the fact that these lyrics appear in child lore demonstrates the significance of knowing how to cook at an early age. Additionally, the first rhyme explains that once the cookies are in oven, the house will be filled with a warm delicious smell. This line suggests the comfort that is associated with cooking as well as the importance of the “home”. Both of these implications are valued aspects within a Greek family. The references to food and the home within these nursery rhymes help to further highlight the prevalence and importance of the topics within Greek culture. The value placed on the home and especially on food, which connects to the culture’s regard for family, is taught at an early age and thus a prominent theme within child folklore.

Mia orea petalouda

Mia orea petalouda

Mia orea petalouda

seva kampo mia fora

Mia orea petalouda

Mia orea petalouda

Mia orea petalouda

Otan ercetai h auoizh tou zana kai peta makria

Transliteration:

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

Come winter it falls and dies

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

When spring comes alive again and flies away

Translation:

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

When winter comes away it goes like it has died

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

One beautiful butterfly

But when spring comes it is alive again and it flies away!

This Greek nursery song was recorded by my grandmother,Yiayia (Yiayia), and was sung to all of us throughout our childhood, however mostly as babies. There is a hand motion resembling a butterfly that is performed along with the song. Yiayia told me that her mother used to sing this song to her when she was a little girl in Greece, but that it was not only a family song. When she would play with other kids from her village, they would all join hands and sing this song, “You know, like ring around the rosie or something,” she explains. Yiaya described how she used to sing the butterfly tune to my mother and her siblings, at first because she didn’t know any American nursery songs, and then, as her English became stronger and once they officially moved to the United States, as a connection to her Greek identity. By the time Yiayia was repeating this melody to her last born, they had been in the US for 11 years yet Greek was still her children’s first language. A sense nostalgia visibly swept over my grandmother as I questioned her about this little nursery tradition. Reflecting on her employment of this lore clearly helped to provide Yiayia with a sense of meaning and purpose for these small aspects of her child rearing. Yiayia continued to describe how passing along the butterfly song to her kids was an important way for her to feel connected to Greece, especially because her established life in the US was perpetually tormented by her own sense of guilt for leaving her homeland.

Given the context of when Yiayia grew up singing this nursery song, its lyrics become specifically telling of her childhood culture in Greece. The song is about a “beautiful butterfly” that dies in the winter but comes alive in the spring, joyfully able to flutter its wings and fly free. On a surface level, the song teaches its audience (children) about the seasonal changes and rebirth of spring. However, there is deeper meaning within this child lore. The presence of death and dark symbolism associated with winter appear harsh for a children’s tune. Nevertheless through analysis of its context, Mia orea petalouda is actually a hopeful song for children.  The Germans occupied most of Greece at the time of my grandmother’s childhood. She often reminisces about the constant sense of fear and confinement she experienced at such an early age. Yiayia often describes that her most prominent memory of her village as a child (around age five) is of two very tall German soldiers sitting outside the house once inhabited by her cousins. The combination of her bewilderment for where her relatives were, along with the prominent and forbidding German figures starring at her across the road, ignited within her the trepidation, which characterized much of my grandmother’s childhood. Mia orea petalouda suggests to children that although there is a dark time in life, a “winter”, a brighter time will come again – when the children (the “butterfly”) can be alive and free.