ΕΑΝ ΠΡΟΤΙΜΑΤΕ ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΑ ΠΑΤΗΣΤΕ ΤΗ ΣΗΜΑΙΑ ΣΤΟ ΚΑΤΩ ΜΕΡΟΣ ΤΗΣ ΟΘΟΝΗΣ
By Nick Stamatakis
Last week, as I was browsing YouTube, I came across a “Malevisiotis” dance where the singer/lagouto player sang the most beautiful Mantinada I ever heard… One that I could easily make the second motto of Helleniscope (the first one is “Truth Through Knowledge”):
Μ’αρέσει πάντα να πετώ με κόντρα τον αέρα,
δεν τα λυγίζω τα φτερά κι ας μου τα κανει πέρα
Translation:
“I love to fly against the headwind—
my wings won’t bend, no matter how hard it pushes me away.
Here is the video – you can hear the mantinada at 1:30… The whole dance takes place at the central square of the village Doxaro… This is what in Crete is called “χοροστάσι”: In traditional Cretan villages, communal dancing took place at the horostási—usually the village square—most often on Sundays and feast days, especially during religious festivals and major social events.
This mantináda can rightly be regarded as among the most meaningful expressions of the Cretan poetic ethos, not by virtue of fame or historical canonization, but through the ethical density it achieves in only two lines. It concentrates core values—freedom, dignity, and autonomy—into a single, lucid metaphor. By framing resistance as preference rather than obligation, it shifts the focus from tragic endurance to a conscious stance. The image of flying against the headwind presents adversity not as an exceptional trial but as the chosen condition of an upright life, while the refusal to bend the wings asserts integrity as non-negotiable, even at the cost of displacement or loss.
What distinguishes this mantináda further is its restraint. It does not threaten, lament, or promise victory; instead, it calmly defines a boundary that cannot be crossed. This composure gives the verse its authority and allows it to travel across contexts, remaining relevant beyond the circumstances of its origin. The wind may prevail physically, but it never achieves moral dominance, and that asymmetry is central to its power. In this way, the mantináda exemplifies the highest function of Cretan oral poetry: not to narrate suffering, but to articulate a way of being that preserves inner freedom regardless of outcome.
December 29, 2025, n.stamatakis@aol.com www.helleniscope.com
DISCLAIMER: The views and statements expressed in this article constitute constitutionally protected opinions of this author.
I’ve found that many of the more meaningful Greek dances ( including zeibekiko ) seem to have a kind of common thread: that Greeks ( whose eyes are open to the world around them ) do suffer more than their share of pain but they use all kinds of music to … *dance* on their pain. It’s akin to saying ” you don’t scare me “.
Of course I don’t mean much of the ballet and effeminate sort of movements that can be seen in too many places where Greek music is played today, especially on tv programs in Greece, but with the dimotika from many parts of GR. As for the modern treatment of zeibekiko and its potential horrors of a bunch of 20 year olds clearing the floor for their friend to do the splits and ” kolotoumbes “, people should always start with a video like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ri4A16DfUTo
Zeibekiko tis Evdokias has the potential of mutating to some kind of performance fetish but the man in this video absolutley nailed it, dancing on his pain! Nothing swishy, nothing soft, just the attitude of, as the noted philosopher Al Swearengen once said ” Pain or damage don’t end the world. Or despair, or f**king beatings. The world ends when you’re dead. Until then you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man, and give some back. ”
And do it with a smile ( my addition )
BH