Say it with flowers

UNESCO Courier, May, 1997 by Yannis E. Ioannou

The language of this dialogue is a miscellaneous and multicoloured assortment of pots of flowers, arranged in rows or placed at random around the entrance door, along walls and windows, on makeshift shelves or old tables, suspended from trees or outer walls, as if to welcome the thirsty traveller. The pots of flowers strike a friendly note which might otherwise be excluded from homes and gardens by utilitarian and often thoughtless human intervention, to say nothing of the intensely arid climate of a land where summer lasts nearly six months.

* A tradition of symbolism

A geranium in a huge container stands harmoniously among daffodils, and all around flowers growing in a conglomeration of pots of all shapes and sizes create a vast coloured landscape. To enter a house ungraced by pots of flowers is to experience a foretaste of death.

But let's take a closer look at these clusters of pots. All kinds of receptacles, irrespective of colour, size or material, are pressed into service and used for planting cuttings. Buckets, metal or plastic drums, tin cans or margarine containers, milk and yoghurt pots all form part of this astonishing miscellany. They are not arranged according to any set order but moved around depending on the space available. There is no preordained aesthetic pattern, as one might tend to think.

This is a world of its own, loaded - overloaded even - with affection, love and respect. It continually breaks the rules that govern the decorative approach and stylization of Western gardens. This is not mere decoration, but a world in a state of flux, in the throes of constant creation and recreation, ordained by standards of raw beauty based on an original law which obeys no human model and in my opinion achieves perfection. "Nature itself", Elytis tells us, "is neither good nor bad, beautiful nor ugly. It simply is." It exists in simplicity, humility and disorder, in a beauty that is both elusive and familiar.

Symbolism, often dating back to Antiquity, is associated with this strange world whose "inhabitants" are closely linked to traditional life in Cyprus. The lily is associated with purity. Certain cacti ward off the evil eye. A vine inside the house would climb, and sometimes still does, up the walls of the living room, twining round and clinging to beautiful traditional plates hung as ornaments - but its two ends must never meet because that would bring bad luck. This is why in the past nobody was called Manolis (the plant's common name).

The therapeutic uses and virtues of some plants are also important. The mushy juice of the aloe was once used as an ointment for treating wounds and burns. Basil and geraniums are placed near doors or windows where their powerful smell wards off mosquitoes - and of course basil leaves whet the appetite of the Cypriots, who sprinkle them over salads. Sprigs of mint are systematically put in the folds, made for this very purpose, of the traditional halloumi cheese. Lavender leaves in a cupboard keep the moths at bay. The heady aroma of Spanish jasmine leaves and marjoram is inseparable from crystallized fruit, especially in the island's rural areas. Walnuts are regarded as a gastronomic luxury. They used to be served when the object of a visit was an engagement.

* A woman's perfume

Love is associated, perhaps even identified, with certain plants which have a distinctive odour and colour, such as jasmine flowers hand-plaited with thread to make a necklace which women used to wear for want of more sophisticated perfumes or hide discreetly in their blouses (especially on Sundays and holidays). In traditional society, before the days of the sexual revolution, a woman who was desired was inaccessible. Only her perfume - that wonderful blend of the flower's smell with that of her body - could be fleetingly captured. Desire could be fulfilled only in song, dance and amorous daydreams, as is suggested by this couplet from a traditional Cypriot song:

Jasmine at your door, oh my jasmine I came to prune it and your mother thought I had come to carry you away.

The women tend the flower pots and are perfectly familiar with the qualities and needs of each plant. To keep jasmine perfectly fresh, they plant it in metal or terracotta pots or, better still, in wooden containers.

Water is a serious problem in Cyprus. Planting flowers in pots rather than in a garden saves a great deal of water, especially in the arid plains, since just the right amount of water can be sprinkled over a flower pot. There is no water shortage in the mountains, but water is hard to transport, and access to houses is almost always difficult. What is more, plots of land suitable for cultivation are so small that, to save space, pots are pressed close together - there are houses whose balconies overflow with flowers. The sparse soil available is used to grow vegetables for subsistence but also for the joy of gardening and swapping one's produce with that of one's neighbour.

* Divine protection

My wife was the first person I questioned about the origins of the custom of growing plants in pots. "Can't you see," she said, "that these are poor people's plants? To begin with, they have no money to buy pots and they never buy plants. Friends and neighbours swap cuttings. . . . The pots don't count. It's the plants that matter and the whole nexus of affection that grows around them . . . ."