The man has police officers, escorts, cars, drivers, radios, people looking right, left, forward, back and probably up at the sky too in case a drone appears. He is President of the Republic, not a periptero vendor on Ledra Street.
As the late John F. Kennedy could confirm, if he had the chance, bodyguards are never enough. For security, if you are a figure of Christodoulides' calibre, you need depth on the bench. A second line of defence. You need someone ready, when everything goes wrong, to leap in front of the President and take the bullet in the chest, or even in the fotada (as they say in Paphos, meaning the forehead). Fortunately, Nikos Christodoulides found that person.
Alexis Vafeadis
The former Transport Minister may have lost his ministry, but he gained something far greater: a place in the informal special missions unit of the presidency. The President himself announced it while bidding him farewell. Vafeadis, he said, is one of the few people who would stand in front of him "to take the bullet." Notice the grandeur of that farewell. You leave the government expecting to hear that you served the country, that you worked with integrity, that you left behind a body of work, that you contributed to this or that reform.
And what does the President tell you? "My dear Alexis, thank you very much. And if they ever start shooting, you know where to stand." That is not a reshuffle. That is casting for Bodyguard.
Except here, Kevin Costner was fired from the Council of Ministers first, and only then informed that he remains useful in the event of an armed attack.
Somewhere here, inevitably, a philosophical question is born. How much must someone love himself to think, at the very moment he is bidding farewell to a colleague, that instead of saying two kind words he should elevate his own persona? Instead of saying "this man gave", "he was honest", "he was hardworking," he told us that "this man would even take a bullet for me"?
"His Majesty," Mr Nikos, this is how he feels about himself and his associates. That he was born to be served. That he came into this world as a kind of national relic that everyone must protect, or as a protected habitat that everyone must safeguard.
Many the dangers
Perhaps, of course, we are being unfair to His Self-Satisfaction, the President. Perhaps he feels that the dangers surrounding him are so numerous and so real that he needs protection from every direction. It is well known that a President is not threatened only by the usual dangers. Besides politicians and other underworld figures, there are dangerous activists, fanatical nationalists and various types who from time to time believe they will save humanity by eliminating some politician. There is also the invisible world. Evil spirits, for example, such as goblins and imps. There is the evil eye, and also glossofagia (malicious gossip believed to cause harm through speech). Above all, of course, the curses of the old crones, who look at their electricity bill, glance at their pension cheque, and start wishing things upon the political leadership that cannot be broadcast before ten at night. Against all this, the Presidential Guard can do very little. What is a police officer supposed to do against the phrase "may you never see any good" from an enraged pensioner? That requires a different arsenal. Prayers, confessions, pilgrimages, relics of saints, skulls, icons, holy wood. When the President travelled to Kokkinochoria to venerate the Holy Belt, he felt a sense of euphoria for months, and even that cramp that used to seize him every afternoon, sending him running, disappeared.
Of course, the President has other weapons and charms in his arsenal, or rather on his left hand. If one observes the President's hand at various public appearances, one will often see him wearing bracelets and prayer ropes. We are talking about a small, portable system of spiritual support that cures every illness, every affliction and every curse. Do you know what a prayer rope is? It is a tool of prayer. Its knots help the faithful repeat the prayer and focus the mind. It goes: "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner," and gdoup, the head strikes the marble. The prayer ends when a red mark forms on the forehead, not unlike a follower of the Hare Krishna movement. This is roughly how Christianity communicates with Hinduism. We should clarify, however, for any imitators, that the prayer rope was not designed as a lucky charm, nor as a power accessory, and, above all, it holds no certification as a bulletproof vest.
The security system
Despite the security gaps that will always exist, the Presidential Palace insists on taking every available measure. Alexis Vafeadis steps in front, and the President follows. On his left hand, he carries his prayer ropes. Around him, the Presidential Guard is positioned. From above, the saints watch and shelter him, while Cherubim and Seraphim fly overhead. This, more or less, is how we can sleep as peacefully as possible knowing our President is not in danger.
The astonishing thing is that, according to this theory, Vafeadis proves more useful outside government than within it. As a minister, he had to deal with roads, public transport, buses and haulage. As a former minister, he has clearly acquired a far more demanding portfolio: human shield for the President of the Republic. And it is an unpaid position too!
This, more or less, is how all politicians understand their role. That they must be surrounded by people to open doors for them, to hold umbrellas over them, to wait for them patiently, to escort them, to applaud them, to tell them how important they are and, occasionally, not for everyone, to unload the black bags of cash from the car. To the point that they believe this is the natural order of the world. This, more or less, is also how His Majesty, Little Nikos, could not find a single kind word to say while bidding farewell to a man who served in his government. He could not set his own persona aside for a moment, and let loose his self-satisfied tsiofta (Cypriot slang for a smart, self-congratulatory quip) of the month. Such foolishness, of course, cannot be warded off by police officers, prayer ropes or saints. Not even the heroic Vafeadis could stop it. Once the tsiofta has already left your mouth, no one has time to step in front of it.
