I love the summers in Greece, but I also fear them. The positive balance of the clear heat, with long days at the beach followed by balmy evenings, often tips into the negative and dangerous: away from the sea, the parched landscape is regularly scoured by strong and searing winds that bring with them the threat of fire.
Such was the case in 2007, the year my youngest son became a fire-fighter. That summer it seemed that the whole of Greece was burning, with the Peloponnese being particularly hard hit. Eighty-four people died in Greece's worst recorded fire season.
Now that season has been surpassed. In 2007, the fires spread themselves over most of a week, but in the most recent fires at a coastal resort town east of Athens complete devastation occurred in less than 48 hours. The death toll currently stands at 88, but many people are still unaccounted for, while approximately 200 people are in hospital, suffering from burns and/or smoke inhalation.
And some people have given up. A tweet accompanying a picture of a blackened house and ruined garden said, 'There is nothing to see except sheets of iron, ashes, and broken glass. For me there is nothing left: I have gone to live abroad with my son.'
My own son is safe. He was on standby for a day, and since then has been on duty at his station: for 36 hours. But at least he was not out there, battling. Firefighters are first responders in Greece, and have terrible experiences at the scenes of accidents, as well as having to risk their lives when fires break out. When this happens they are often in danger for 80 straight hours.
And for all this risk and hard work they are paid very little. A permanent fireman starts on a monthly salary of $1500 gross per month. But the service also takes on seasonal summer workers who face continual hazard, and receive a monthly net payment of only $1027. Try keeping a family on either of those sums.
Inevitably the question about this latest disaster is 'Why?' And there are many answers, or attempted answers. Citizens are bitterly blaming the government at present, but politicians, in time-honoured fashion, are shifting the blame, and pointing out the unregulated nature of the building that has taken place in what used to be a forest.
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