Vyronas - The Athens Suburb

 
On 16 April 1924, Henry Morgenthau, President of the Refugees’ Settlement Commission, officially named the new settlement “Vyronas”. It was named in honour of Lord Byron who had died at Missolonghi, in the cause of Greek independence, on 19 April 1824.
 

The new settlement sat 3 kilometres south east of the centre of Athens and spread towards the slopes of Mount Hymettus. In 1920, the population of Athens was 292,000; by 1924 it had jumped to about 450,000 following an influx of refugees from Ionia - what is now the western coast of Turkey.
                       
«Η Ιωνία τίναξε την ανθισμένη ποδιά της και τα λουλούδια πέσανε κάτω από τον Υμηττό» έγραψε ο Μενέλαος Λουντέμης το 1924.
 
"Ionia shook her flowery apron and the flowers fell below Hymettus" wrote the famous Greek writer Menelaos Lountemis in 1924
 
The number of refugees coming to Greece from Ionia continued to increase: the Treaty of Lausanne of January 1923 made provision for a largescale exchange of populations between Greece and Turkey - Christians, coming one way; Muslims, going the other. Estimates of the number of Christians coming to Greece vary between 1.2 million and 1.5 million.
 
The experience of the refugees entering Greece was typically that they would spend several months in refugee camps before being offered the most basic homes on what was, at the time, often uncultivated land or land on which livings had barely been scratched.
 
At least, the refugees could move out of the tents and shacks in which they had been living and had somewhere to start rebuilding their lives and communities. The new homes were built close together; the community built its own school and church.
 
It has often struck me that the architect who designed these simple homes might have been a nine-year old boy with a pencil and ruler. The front elevation of his design was for a small single storey dwelling, with a front door, on either side of which was a small square window. The floor plan would have shown two rooms, one behind each window. As he warmed to the task, the boy went on to design some two storey properties as well, in a like manner, for larger or multi-generational families.
 

The boy architect probably didn’t give much thought to the building materials to be used and may not even have known the word “πλίθα”; in the same way I suspect most English people do not know the English word “adobe”; I didn’t know it until I wrote this article! It means a “mud brick”.
 
The attraction of the πλίθα was that it was cheap and quick to manufacture. It required:
 
Ø clay-rich earth (the binding material)
Ø sand (to prevent cracking)
Ø straw (fibres that strengthen the brick)
Ø water (to form the paste)
 
It was dried in the sun, and did not need to be fired in a kiln.
 
What was necessary, however, was the application of thick coats of plaster to keep the homes water-tight. The few remaining homes of this era have an accordingly ‘lumpy’ appearance.
 
When the new homes were handed over, they were often incomplete - lacking doors and windows. But the refugees were resourceful people and it is easy to imagine the spirit of generosity in which the members of the new community helped one another. These were people who worked hard and rebuilt new lives from almost nothing. I have heard warming stories of wonderful gardens made behind these simple homes; many refugees had brought seeds and shoots of their favourite flowers, trees and herbs from their old homes and these took root here.
 
Athens is now a vast urban sprawl: Vyronas is regarded as an inner-suburb of Athens. It has been a municipality in its own right since 1934. It would be unrecognisable to the earliest residents: almost all the original homes were replaced by concrete “πολυκατοικίες” - “apartment blocks” in the1950s and 60s. They, in turn, are now showing their age.
 
What Vyronas retains is a strong sense of identity, community and historical resonance. Next time you are in Athens, pay it a visit perhaps, wander off the usual tourist track.
 
Richard Devereux