Despite our enviable "greenness", reputation for friendliness, rich Maori culture and excellent offerings in contemporary music, being surrounded by literally thousands of years of rich history that stretches in every direction for thousands of miles makes being Kiwi feel a bit plain at times. Though maybe that‘s why everyone seems to think that we‘re so nice - we don‘t have millennia of grudges to hold against all our neighbours (just the Aussies).
But if this relative lack of history was manifesting itself as a lack of national identity or pride, it was remedied by our time in Crete. Visiting museums, and more importantly, talking to the old men at the cafes in the streets, made us realise just how important our grandfathers(and, by extension, their families) were to these people. Kiwi soldiers fought and died for Cretans, and those who didn’t get off the island before the Germans took control were hidden by local families despite German death threats - some for up to 3 years.
Mountain villages have memorial plaques for “all the males within 1km of the village square, who were executed on German orders as reprisals” for a string of offences. These included:
Hiding allied soldiers
Hiding (and being) resistance fighters
Assisting resistance fighters in kidnapping the German General in charge of Crete (this story was retold with laughter by the old men who we met by the busstop - more on them later, as they deserve a blog post all to themselves)
The curator for the Battle of Crete exhibition at the museum talked to us for a good twenty minutes about New Zealand’s contribution, and shared stories of family members of soldiers who have come to the exhibition. It seems that Kiwis have a special place in his heart, as he went into a backroom to get me a piece of memorabilia to take home with me.
As we go along we learn first-hand (and are humbled by) the identity and reputation that has been earned on our behalf, and often wonder how our generation would respond to similar crises.
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