As a young boy I sloshed around in mud puddles, I have tasted too much manure when playing, as I was raised
by farmer parents and I know well the
subject matter. Here we go, let’s walk along the muddy history of agricultural reality of today, dear fellow readers.
A professional farmer or animal breeder in Greece? We’re talking about a true hero. And history so to speak, an occupation of taste, but also of custom based mainly on tradition. It comes from the depths of the once thriving Greek land.
To a very large extent it’s based on family usually being behind a man who will deal with agriculture, or animal breeding. Father, mother, grandfather, grandmother. You might even see their dog pruning vines, for helping. And for animal breeding, what I’m writing here, more or less the same applies, maybe even worse, but I will focus on agriculture.
A farmer means work around the clock, seven days a week, twelve months a year. Even if there is no specific work or has removed the old ones, as we say. He must prepare the next ones. Plants are living organisms. But also when dead, when their time has expired, they generate new work for the next season. It is a continuous preparation process. And for the animals in the possession of every farmer or breeder, too. Thus my mother had me. Most farmers do not know what it means to be on a carefree holiday, they do not know what that means, a few days with no stress.
A farmer means struggle daily with these living organisms, to keep them healthy for fruiting. They get sick, like we do. There, just now, my head raised a slight temperature. I’m going to take a painkiller, from the kitchen. Imagine when we talk about thousands of plants and dozens of acres of crop. A proper brain damage.
A farmer my friend means that if his plants suffer from a severe illness, which they get viruses many times, the entire production is destroyed, or most of it. Most plant diseases, even nowadays, yes your’re reading correctly, cannot be treated. Or partly treated. Or new ones grow. To keep us ongoing.
A farmer means that every year he must buy again new seeds for the new crop. Most times, he will not have the same production for the new year, even though the previous plants, were the best of his life. They’ve made them hybrids, thus cannot keep seeds from previous plants. Who has done this? See, global industries.
A farmer means, that if the weather for some reason changes attitude every now and then because it fell in love at first sight, or because planet Venus is passing close to us, and exchanging hot kisses and caresses with planet Earth, the farmer, will not see any fruit, not even for his own salad on his table.
A farmer means, that when finished or harvesting, even if his fields yield the richest production, he has no guarantee whatsoever of the final profit. The products, follow the laws of the free market. That is, the jackals. And cartel with tusks you could say. He doesn’t know what the outcome will be, he doesn’t know what profit rate he will sell, he doesn’t know if all the previous time he was working for a hobby or for a living. He might get to ask for a loan from his chicken, in order to buy some milk for his children.
A farmer, who will try to sell at better prices, to make some profit, to bypass traders, middlemen, in this case, it’s a disappointing attempt (“he caught his money”). The road he has to follow, mainly, is the street markets. There starts the real pain, my dear reader. A long story of flowing blood, are the street markets. Late nights, Schedules away from home, Exposure to weather conditions, Additional cost of living, twelve to fifteen hours of daily work, Bullying for better bench location, and much more.
A farmer my friend means, he will be the first to face, long before us, any of the pesticides he uses for his plants. But in many cases, he has no choice. They have a very very high fatality rate. I believe it’s due to poisons, without being able to prove it. I simply sense it. What do you think, of this?
A farmer in Greece, always had the lowest pension among all professions, and with the worst working conditions. His insurance, always insufficient in a profession with very high risk of accidents. If I remember well, as a little boy in the greenhouses, I must have stepped on about twenty rusty nails with my bare little feet. Once again back to the hospital for a dose of anti-tetanus shot.
So, my dear reader, before you easily chop off a farmer in your mind and heart, because some people are bombarding your mind, and you’re imagining them all with a jeep Cayenne, with a lot of money and European subsidies hidden under their pillow, simply consider, all of the above.
Unless you don’t understand all of this, then it’s your right. Chop off a farmer you too. You can, very easily. Besides it doesn’t cost anything.
These farmers that devoured financial subsidies in Greece, are a tragic minority. And I dare to tell you, that they are not even professional farmers. It is something between a farmer and a political party factor. It also comes out in a colourful version.
And one last secret, fellow reader, just for you. The cost of production has increased so much and is constantly increasing, which is a nailed axe in the throat of the farmer’s profit. And not only that. Any subsidy or bank loan given to farmers to set up a farming or breeding operation, has evaporated. Smoke in a wide sky with a wind of ten beaufort scale. In one way they give it to them, and on the other they take it away from them.
And now that I mentioned the strong wind, I thought about the agricultural allowances provided in case of natural disasters, of their crops. A joke that makes me laugh for years now. In many cases this money is not even enough to buy the scarf worn on the head when working in midsummer under fifty degrees Celsius in the fields.
Warm greetings fellow reader, thank you for strolling along the path of these considerations, and if you chop off a farmer you come across, call me as well to dine together.
text Manos Chronakis
