By Stamatina Notaras
In a world where no two people are the same, the pursuit of love is the tie that bands us together. Most of us want it, some of us have it, and for the majority of us, the journey toward it makes for quite the ride. It begins lightly and jovially, with eyes interlocking at community dance halls and stolen glances at Sunday mass; yet isn’t long before the sting of adulthood takes centre stage, where love turns to logic and substantial dowries are exchanged for suitable grooms.
Did I lose you at dowries? Sit tight.
What is now a fun social experiment in the reality TV world, used to be the way of life for generations before us. All you need to watch is Indian Matchmaking, Married At First Sight, Love is Blind, and even First Dates to see that sometimes, two people just aren’t meant for each other.
Luckily for these ‘contestants’ of love, once the showrunners call ‘cut,’ so do the couples who would rather spend a night surviving in the wild on the show Alone, than endure another moment of awkward silences as they fight for their lives to make subpar conversation. Whereas, in some of our grandparents’ cases, this was not an option. Yep; I’m talking about ‘proxenia marriages’ – loosely translated in English to ‘arranged marriages.’
Whether this tradition was born out of patriarchal desperation to ensure their daughters didn’t end up with a ‘xeno with big, long hair on top of his head,’ as the iconic (yet slightly problematic) Gus Portokalos once said, is still up for discussion. But for the most part, it served as a form of security for not only the bride but for their family, too.
For all of my younger readers (myself included), I want you to visit the part of your brain where all the bad Hinge dates reside and think about the ones you would rather forget. Now, picture standing across from them at the altar, knowing you have a lifetime of ‘that’ ahead of you. Okay, now return this memory to its rightful position, lock it up, and throw away the key. The point of this visualisation task was so that for a brief moment, you could understand what it was like. This was the reality for many generations past.
But this read is not all doom and gloom.
For some, an arranged marriage brought them to a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and stories plucked right out of your favourite ‘90s romcom. For these were the marriages that fit like puzzle pieces; no force required. Marriages where the innocence never faded, remaining ripe at the age of 80. Marriages where you watch them eat a 4 pm supper at the dining table they’ve shared for 50-plus years – the air filled with the echoes of laughing children and Sunday dinners still palpable – and the phrase ‘when you know, you know’ suddenly makes sense.
The real-life manifestation of ‘when you know, you know,’ are my great grandparents. Although not alive for me to witness it in person, I learnt of their love through the eyes of my Yiayia. The sign of a beloved marriage is rarely through the words of those who possess it, but in turn, exudes from those that are surrounded by it.
Not uncommon for most proxenia marriages, it all started when a boy met a girl, and then married within three days of knowing each other. Yianni was seven years older than Katarina and packed up for a journey across countries, planting roots in a country town in Australia call Thangool. It was here that he would build a quiet and peaceful life on the farm and raise three children with his partner for life.
Katarina and Yianni met for the first time in Thangool in 1938, then flew to Rockhampton to get married alongside another Greek couple. The days from then on could be described as a ‘blissful existence.’ This time I’ll liken it to the first season of The Farmer Wants a Wife. The spoils of their love began with crying babies that turned into smiling children, farmhouse chores that were dutifully fulfilled, and a shared responsibility of household duties; a rarity of that time.
My Yiayia would often speak of her parents’ patience and love for each other, where voices were never raised and disagreements were no cause for concern. They remained happily married for 47 years and spent their final years in West End, Brisbane. I often look at the wedding pictures adorning the walls of my Yiayia and Pappou’s house, and just like an oil painting that calls for stillness, patience, and a duty of care to perfect, so did the years that followed for Katarina and Yianni; years that most would be lucky to replicate.
When you think about it; does being set up by the people who know you right down to your worst days and wish nothing but happiness for you, sound all bad? There’s no denying that a world without dating fatigue, outfit meltdowns, or first date jitters sounds somewhat enticing. Yet at the same time, don’t go getting any ideas mum.
