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Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής
On my final day on Nisyros island, I went swimming at Hohlakia. With its enormous black pebbles resembling miniature boulders, Hohlakia challenges the very act of walking or balancing. Entering its waters is a struggle, even when the sea is "smooth like oil." And the clarity of the water remains elu...
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| Language: | English English |
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School of Languages and Literatures
2025
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| _version_ | 1867611355985477632 |
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| access_status_str | Open Access |
| author | Isaakidis, Petros |
| author2 | Coovadia, Imraan |
| author_browse | Coovadia, Imraan Isaakidis, Petros |
| author_facet | Coovadia, Imraan Isaakidis, Petros |
| author_sort | Isaakidis, Petros |
| collection | Thesis |
| description | On my final day on Nisyros island, I went swimming at Hohlakia. With its enormous black pebbles resembling miniature boulders, Hohlakia challenges the very act of walking or balancing. Entering its waters is a struggle, even when the sea is "smooth like oil." And the clarity of the water remains elusive unless one surrenders to the buoyancy. This extraordinary place is a volcano. On that final day in Nisyros, two words, "volcanoed" and "ηφαιστειωθής", lingered in my brain. On the boat to Kos and the plane to Athens, and from there to Cape Town, I kept on ruminating, "I was volcanoed." "Ηφαιστειώθηκα." My body was certain that I had survived a cataclysmic volcanic eruption that tore me apart and reconstructed me in a mix of languages that melted into each other like lava. Three months before, my father had died after six agonising months of illness and horror. I had promised myself that this time I would not be the doctor of the family. I would just be a son. I failed. And I didn't even have space or time to grieve; my mother had sucked out all the family's sorrow and returned only wrath. Volcanoed and ηφαιστειωθής came together, and some more words were melted in, until I wrote a poem in two parts. This was the first entirely bilingual poem I have written. Ever since that day, I've found it difficult to write a poem using only one of my two primary languages. People ask me if I translate the poems from Greek into English or vice versa. I grapple with the concept of translation, for my process transcends mere translation. I write some lines and stanzas in one language and some in the other, and I do ‘counter translate' until I feel each version is complete. The two versions, like twins, are growing together, swimming in the same amniotic fluid, but they are dizygotic twins, not identical. The linguistic duality I navigate is a constant negotiation, a dialogue between two identities that feels both enriching and disorienting. At times, I feel I have to choose between languages. But how does one choose between their mother tongue and their new language to express joy, pain, awe, or grief? As all of us who have left behind a country, a home, and a language know, once you've left, you're gone forever. My Greek feels somewhat impoverished after nearly two decades away. I find myself grappling for the right words upon my return to my homeland. I had stopped reading poems and prose in Greek since I left. Only Cavafy has been accompanying me in my years of self-exile. I now think that my Greek may never fully recover, that my English may forever remain an imperfect reflection. But isn't it such an incredible gift that I can swim in the depth, the richness, the precariousness of not just one but two wonderful languages? I hope that these twin poems find a sense of completeness in their shared existence. |
| format | Thesis |
| id | oai:open.uct.ac.za:11427/41721 |
| institution | University of Cape Town (South Africa) |
| language | English eng |
| license_str | Not specified — see source repository |
| provenance_str_mv | Harvested via OAI-PMH from UCTD — University of Cape Town Open Access Repository |
| publishDate | 2025 |
| publishDateRange | 2025 |
| publishDateSort | 2025 |
| publisher | School of Languages and Literatures |
| publisherStr | School of Languages and Literatures |
| record_format | dspace |
| source_str | UCTD — University of Cape Town Open Access Repository |
| spelling | oai:open.uct.ac.za:11427/41721 Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής Isaakidis, Petros Coovadia, Imraan Volcanoed ηφαιστειωθής On my final day on Nisyros island, I went swimming at Hohlakia. With its enormous black pebbles resembling miniature boulders, Hohlakia challenges the very act of walking or balancing. Entering its waters is a struggle, even when the sea is "smooth like oil." And the clarity of the water remains elusive unless one surrenders to the buoyancy. This extraordinary place is a volcano. On that final day in Nisyros, two words, "volcanoed" and "ηφαιστειωθής", lingered in my brain. On the boat to Kos and the plane to Athens, and from there to Cape Town, I kept on ruminating, "I was volcanoed." "Ηφαιστειώθηκα." My body was certain that I had survived a cataclysmic volcanic eruption that tore me apart and reconstructed me in a mix of languages that melted into each other like lava. Three months before, my father had died after six agonising months of illness and horror. I had promised myself that this time I would not be the doctor of the family. I would just be a son. I failed. And I didn't even have space or time to grieve; my mother had sucked out all the family's sorrow and returned only wrath. Volcanoed and ηφαιστειωθής came together, and some more words were melted in, until I wrote a poem in two parts. This was the first entirely bilingual poem I have written. Ever since that day, I've found it difficult to write a poem using only one of my two primary languages. People ask me if I translate the poems from Greek into English or vice versa. I grapple with the concept of translation, for my process transcends mere translation. I write some lines and stanzas in one language and some in the other, and I do ‘counter translate' until I feel each version is complete. The two versions, like twins, are growing together, swimming in the same amniotic fluid, but they are dizygotic twins, not identical. The linguistic duality I navigate is a constant negotiation, a dialogue between two identities that feels both enriching and disorienting. At times, I feel I have to choose between languages. But how does one choose between their mother tongue and their new language to express joy, pain, awe, or grief? As all of us who have left behind a country, a home, and a language know, once you've left, you're gone forever. My Greek feels somewhat impoverished after nearly two decades away. I find myself grappling for the right words upon my return to my homeland. I had stopped reading poems and prose in Greek since I left. Only Cavafy has been accompanying me in my years of self-exile. I now think that my Greek may never fully recover, that my English may forever remain an imperfect reflection. But isn't it such an incredible gift that I can swim in the depth, the richness, the precariousness of not just one but two wonderful languages? I hope that these twin poems find a sense of completeness in their shared existence. Την τελευταία μου μέρα στη Νίσυρο, πήγα για κολύμπι στα Χοχλάκια. Με τις τεράστιες, μαύρες ηφαιστειακές κοτρόνες που κάνουν το περπάτημα, αλλά και την είσοδο στο νερό, άθλους ηράκλειους. Ακόμη και τις μέρες που η θάλασσα είναι λάδι. Εκείνη την τελευταία μέρα στη Νίσυρο, δύο λέξεις, "volcanoed" και "ηφαιστειωθής", μου κόλλησαν στο μυαλό. Στο πλοίο για την Κω και στο αεροπλάνο για την Αθήνα, και από εκεί στο Κέιπ Τάουν, μηρύκαζα διαρκώς: "I was volcanoed". "Ηφαιστειώθηκα". Το σώμα μου μου έλεγε ότι είχα επιβιώσει από μια κατακλυσμική ηφαιστειακή έκρηξη που με διέλυσε και με ανασύστασε σε ένα μείγμα γλωσσών που έλιωσαν η μία μέσα στην άλλη σαν ηφαιστειακή λάβα. Τρεις μήνες πριν, ο πατέρας μου είχε πεθάνει μετά από έξι βασανιστικούς μήνες αρρώστιας και τρόμου. Είχα υποσχεθεί στον εαυτό μου ότι αυτή τη φορά δεν θα ήμουν ο γιατρός της οικογένειας. Θα ήμουν ο γιος, μόνο. Απέτυχα οικτρά. Και δεν είχα καν χώρο ή χρόνο να θρηνήσω- η μητέρα μου είχε ρουφήξει όλο το πένθος της οικογένειας και σε μας επέστρεφε μόνο οργή. Το volcanoed και το ηφαιστειωθής ενώθηκαν, παρασύραν κι άλλες λέξεις μαζί τους, ώσπου έγραψα ένα ποίημα σε δύο μέρη. Αυτό ήταν το πρώτο μου δίγλωσσο ποίημα. Από εκείνη τη μέρα, μου είναι δύσκολο να γράψω ένα ποίημα σε μόνο μία γλώσσα. Με ρωτούν αν μεταφράζω τα ποιήματα από τα ελληνικά στα αγγλικά ή το αντίστροφο. Παλεύω με την έννοια της μετάφρασης, γιατί η διαδικασία μου υπερβαίνει την απλή μετάφραση. Γράφω κάποιους στίχους και στροφές στη μία γλώσσα και κάποιους στην άλλη και κάνω "αντι-μετάφραση" μέχρι να νιώσω ότι κάθε εκδοχή είναι πλήρης. Οι δύο εκδοχές, σαν δίδυμα, μεγαλώνουν μαζί κολυμπώντας στο ίδιο αμνιακό υγρό, αλλά είναι διζυγωτικά δίδυμα, όχι μονοζυγωτικά. Η γλωσσική δυαδικότητα στην οποία περιηγούμαι είναι μια διαρκής διαπραγμάτευση, ένας διάλογος μεταξύ δύο ταυτοτήτων που είναι απολαυστικός όσο και αποπροσανατολιστικός. Κατά καιρούς νιώθω ότι οφείλω να επιλέξω ανάμεσα στις δυο γλώσσες. Πώς επιλέγει όμως κανείς μεταξύ της μητρικής και της νέας του γλώσσας για να εκφράσει χαρά, πόνο, δέος ή θλίψη; Όπως ξέρουμε καλά όλοι όσοι έχουμε αφήσει πίσω μας μια χώρα, ένα σπίτι και μια γλώσσα- όταν φεύγεις, ποτέ δεν επιστρέφεις οριστικά. Τα ελληνικά μου έχουν μικρύνει, έχουν φτωχύνει δραματικά, μετά από σχεδόν δύο δεκαετίες. Πιάνω τον εαυτό μου να παλεύει να βρει τη σωστή λέξη κατά την επιστροφή μου στην πατρίδα. Μέχρι και πριν δύο χρόνια δεν διάβαζα καν στα ελληνικά. Μόνο ο Καβάφης με συνόδευε στα χρόνια της αυτοεξορίας μου. Τώρα σκέφτομαι ότι τα ελληνικά μου μπορεί να μην ανακάμψουν ποτέ πλήρως, ότι τα αγγλικά μου μπορεί να παραμείνουν για πάντα μια μετριότητα. Μα δεν είναι ένα απίστευτο δώρο ότι πια μπορώ να κολυμπώ στα πλάτη, τα βάθη, τον πλούτο και τους κινδύνους όχι μιας αλλά δυο γλωσσών; Όσο μέτρια και αν τις γνωρίζω και μιλώ και τις δύο. Ελπίζω ότι αυτά τα δίδυμα ποιήματα βρίσκουν μια κάποια πληρότητα στη συνύπαρξή τους. 2025-09-08T11:26:06Z 2025-09-08T11:26:06Z 2025 2025-09-08T10:53:21Z Thesis / Dissertation Masters MA http://hdl.handle.net/11427/41721 en eng application/pdf School of Languages and Literatures Faculty of Humanities University of Cape Town |
| spellingShingle | Volcanoed ηφαιστειωθής Isaakidis, Petros Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής |
| thesis_degree_str | Master's |
| title | Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής |
| title_full | Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής |
| title_fullStr | Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής |
| title_full_unstemmed | Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής |
| title_short | Volcanoed |ηφαιστειωθής |
| title_sort | volcanoed ηφαιστειωθής |
| topic | Volcanoed ηφαιστειωθής |
| url | http://hdl.handle.net/11427/41721 |
| work_keys_str_mv | AT isaakidispetros volcanoedēphaisteiōthēs |