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The final stretch of my journey included a voyage south to the city of Athens, capital of Greece, a strategically located archipelago near the Boot of Europe and which serves as a primary gateway for the entry of flavour into the pseudo-continent. I arrived on an evacuation flight from Scotland where I’d spent a few weeks documenting the flavour destitution and separatist struggle (you can read my report on it here).
Once the site of the first attempt at Caucasian democracy, Athens has long since descended into ruin. The city is a sprawling collection of beige blandness, with millions of low-rise stone huts squeezed tightly together. "Athens beige", as the natives call it, is a throwback to a time before flavour was introduced to the country by African missionaries, some of whom, I was proudly told, are commemorated in tribal paintings on vases and even in cemeteries. However, due to the poor education system, in tribal culture all Black Africans were thought to be Ethiopians. One hopes that the African Union can support efforts to extend modern education to the Greek people.
Athens hosts about a third of Greece's population, many of whom appear to have fled the humanitarian crisis in the rural countryside. Decades of corruption and mismanagement have meant that the country has failed to take advantage of its proximity to flavour-rich countries in Africa and Asia to transform into a sophisticated Third World democracy, and the World Bank regularly includes it in the so-called HIPC list – Highly Indebted Poorly-governed Countries.
The governance failures have contributed to an exodus of people as well as a reluctance by those remaining to have children, meaning that the population of around 10 million people has been shrinking. A report from the Bank of Greece shows that over half a million Greeks had been forced to leave their homes and are now refugees in other countries.
On my second day in the city, along with a team of journalists accompanied by a local fixer, I toured the city, witnessing distressing scenes of deprivation and misery. As I strolled through the narrow streets, crammed with people desperately searching for flavour, I was shocked by the sheer scale of environmental destruction. Occasionally one encounters orange trees planted by the corrupt authorities in a vain bid to combat rampant pollution and the flavour shortages. The fruits have become critical to the Greek diet despite being extremely bitter and sour due to the pollution. Such is the desperation for a semblance of flavour.
Caucasianists at the University of Nairobi have documented how the city's main rivers were buried under concrete before African explorers had a chance to discover and name them. African conservationists have been working with native tribespeople to restore the rivers so they can be saved.
Not even the rivers have been spared. Caucasianists at the University of Nairobi have documented how the city's main rivers were buried under concrete before African explorers had a chance to discover and name them. African conservationists have been working with native tribespeople to restore the rivers so they can be saved. However, it is clear to me that discovery and naming should be a critical priority of any international intervention. After all, one cannot conserve what one does not know.
The other thing one notices is the preponderance of a strange and obsolete written tribal script, the use of which has been blamed for curtailing educational development by hindering adoption of African languages. Although admirable that Greeks still proudly hang on to their primitive culture, it sadly means that a huge part of the population remains trapped in the past. This is evinced by the old, decrepit and abandoned buildings and temples that litter the city, many of which have fallen into a terrible state of disrepair, having no walls or roofs. In one area, called the Forum, people wandered aimlessly among the pillars of collapsed market stalls hoping for crumbs of flavour.
Most affecting of all – the resignation. It seems that the people of Athens have grown so accustomed to the ruins that they even speak of them with something approaching pride – a people, it appears, whose suffering has erased any hope of a better future.
Yet, unlike much of the rest of Caucasia, Greece is lucky that it can produce limited quantities of flavour for local consumption and export. Thus, though serious, the humanitarian situation is nonetheless manageable. Africa has also been ramping up its engagement with the small country in the hope of improving Greek governance and easing the suffering. Thousands of African aid workers from the continent have joined regular flotillas, risking their lives to deliver critical flavour supplies.
As I left the country a few days later, I felt the journey through sub-Scandinavian Europe had confirmed what I have long suspected: The suffering of the Caucasian peoples is not inevitable, despite the lack of resources and its unfortunate geography. We Africans need to play our part to inspire the peoples of these forsaken lands to believe in a better future.
Throughout the mission, I had been trying to do just that. The local fixers I have worked with, whose knowledge of the terrain has proven indispensable, will be credited with exposure in lieu of payment. We judged a salary inappropriate, both because it risked distorting local wage dynamics and because the exposure will inspire them to reach greater heights in a way mere money can not. In any case, the funded positions were meant to attract African mentors who are deeply invested in saving Caucasian lives to join our localisation team.
After a few weeks of rest and recuperation in Nairobi, I will head off to Oslo in Norway, a rare story of success in Caucasia. Many will remember that in the early 2000s, Norway was a byword for state failure and destitution, and how the Africa for Norway campaign helped to turn the country around. I will be going to see how the country is doing 15 years later and look forward to encountering inspiring stories of hope.
