Mastiha: The Challenging Harvest that Keeps Chios Alive
From family traditions to modern innovation,...
© Olga Charami
Having spent many summers on beloved Sikinos, I’ve witnessed this farewell ritual time and again. It always begins with the cry: “Pedia, pameee!” (“Let’s go, guys!”). Then, dozens of people – mostly young, but not exclusively – hurl themselves into the churning sea just as the departing ferry pulls away, its giant propeller stirring the water into a frothy chaos. Moments later, their faces resurface, hands waving enthusiastically at the ship as it pulls away.
The passengers on board are just as thrilled, responding with cheers of their own. I’m not particularly timid, but despite the constant encouragement, I’ve never dared to take the plunge. And so I’ve missed the thrill described by one excited young Athenian after his first dive: how the sea feels like “sparkling soda,” or the strange, electric moment the current lifts you back to the surface.
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The custom began in the 1980s, when the island finally got a modern harbor capable of accommodating large passenger ferries. Since then, every summer, the ritual has continued without fail.
Yesterday, a video went viral showing two overwhelmed coast guards struggling to hold back a swarm of eager jumpers. Some divers even staged diversions, pretending to dive from one side of the pier to let others leap unnoticed from another.
And just like that, this sleepy Cycladic island suddenly found itself riding a wave of headlines. (I couldn’t help but wonder: would the locals’ long-standing calls for better ferry connections or healthcare ever gain as much traction or be covered as widely? The answer, of course, is no.)
“When it began, visitors were few,” Mayor Vasilis Marakis tells me. “Local kids would dive into the sea on August 16th to bid farewell to friends leaving for university. Things are very different now. Tourists are far more numerous, and they jump too — and not just once a year, but every time the big ferry leaves. The situation has become dangerous, and the Coast Guard was right to step in.”
Until last summer, the mayor himself would stand on the pier, holding the crowd back until the ship had sailed a safe distance. But this summer, that job fell to the Coast Guard, and for many teenagers that change felt like a challenge. They now treat the ritual almost as an act of rebellion. The younger ones, meanwhile, see it as harmless mischief. These are the Aponeristas. The older generation is increasingly uneasy. As the crowds grow larger each year, so do the risks.
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Yet like those who chase local festivals in search of “authenticity,” newcomers to Sikinos see the dive as a rite of passage; a way to become true Sikinians. That’s how my friend Konstantinos Bouras, a forty-something architect, felt back in 2002, when he first came to the island for holidays as a student living in the United States.
“Strange as it may sound, this ritual made me fall in love with Sikinos forever,” he says. “So much so that I bought a house here. First, you dive into the water, and then you fall for the island itself.”
Perhaps, in the end, it all comes down to the search for an “authentic experience,” a way to connect with something rooted in the past. Another longtime friend who has spent years vacationing on the island points out that Sikinos still resists the pull of mass tourism, even as interest in its land grows.
For Mayor Marakis, the path forward lies not in mass development but in honoring the island’s heritage: restoring landmarks like the Episkopi monument, expanding walking trails, and promoting sustainable tourism that respects Sikinos’ unique character.
This article was previously published in Greek at kathimerini.gr
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