Pasteli - The Road of Sesame to Olympia

When you look at a map of Europe, at the bottom you will see Greece between the boot-shaped Italy and a sandwich-shaped Turkey surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea.

Greece is a land of many ancient sites, meaning sites that were used a very long time ago and now serve as places that can be visited and learned from. One of those places is Olympia. It is where the Olympic Games had started and the first athletes had competed.

In ancient times, there was a farmer, who lived a few days walk from Olympia. He cultivated sesame plant for its edible seeds. Every four years he travelled on foot with his donkey loaded with big sacks of sesame to Olympia to sell it. This year was a special year as his son was going to join him on his first journey to the city.

The boy’s name was Aster and every day he followed his father in the fields like a shadow. He marched a step behind him trying to hide from the blazing sun. As the father inspected the plant, it was boy’s opportunity to ask, “Father, which story you haven’t told me yet.”

Now when the boy was ten years old and probably had heard all of the Greek myths, it was harder and harder to come up with a new one. Since the time was before the Olympic Games, the father thought it would be a perfect time to remind Aster about the birth of Olympia. “Alright, son.” The father checked the sesame plant and then kept on walking. “Since tomorrow morning we’re leaving for Olympia, let’s go back to its beginnings.” He paused for a second as searching for the right story and proceeded, “The city was built as a sanctuary to worship Greek gods, mostly Zeus, who was the father of all gods.”

“Then why the athletes compete with each other if this was built for the gods?” The stories about Greek gods didn’t always make sense to the boy, but they were intricate and the more puzzling they were the more questions they brought and the boy loved to ask questions.  

“This is how the athletes honor the gods by competing with each other.” This still didn’t make much sense to the boy, so the father continued. “At the end of the competition, the best athlete receives an olive wreath, which is the greatest achievement for an athlete. With winning the Olympic Games, he brings the biggest honor to his native city.”

The boy seemed to be getting into the story now, “But the Festival is only for a few days, right?”

“Right, it’s for five days,” nodded the father.

Aster moved in front of his father stopping him from checking the sesame plant and with both shoulders risen up and hands spread up in the air he questioned, “So what do they do for the rest of the year?”

“They train throughout the year. It takes practice and discipline to be the best at what you do. And good training is supported by a proper diet. Do you remember what I told you about the diet?” Aster thought with a long stare over the fields and with both hands now gripping his shirt. Not wanting to prolong the silence the father answered, “The diet is as important as training. You have to eat well, lots of fruits, vegetables, sea-food and …”

“And sesame!” the boy rushed with his answer proudly saying, “It is an important source of nutrition and that’s why we’re going to Olympia to sell sesame.”

“That’s right son and now is the time to finish our work for the day, so we can get plenty of sleep before our long journey.” As the sun was setting on the horizon making the ground look red, the father and son walked towards the house.

Meanwhile people from around the Greece flocked to Olympia either to watch the games or sell their goods. Those who could afford to watch the games travelled on horses and the rest journeyed on foot. Every path echoed with chatters filled with dust rising from the thousands of feet trudging the same way. But nobody minded the dust; the air was filled with excitement, pushing the dust out of the traveler’s minds.

In the morning, it was time for the father and son to join the rest of the travelers. The journey took them through the mountains, which trees provided a protection from intense summer sun. The boy’s excitement was very contagious sending greetings to all people.

After the first day of travel, the boy was very tired and fell asleep as soon as he laid down; only a blanket separating him from the ground. It was his first night under the open summer sky.

On the second day, Aster felt every muscle of his body, but the excitement was much stronger than the pain. Towards the end of the day as he started slightly dragging his feet, he tripped on the tree root sticking out of the ground. His knee bruised a little with a trickle of blood. The father rushed to help the boy as he saw his tiredness, “Are you all right son?” But the boy was very sturdy. He quickly raised himself up and only nodded, secretly wiping off a tear that rolled down his cheek. They continued a few more steps, when the father noticed a small clearing among the bushes, “This is a perfect spot to spend the night.”

The following day, Aster standing on a hill saw the first glimpse of Olympia. As they neared the city, the boy tried to take all in one gaze, the shining buildings surrounded by robed men, which almost blended with the marble statues, the hustle and bustle of merchants and spectators getting ready for the first day of the games. “There they are!” he pointed at well-built tanned athletes.

“Yes, you will see plenty of them during the next few days.” The father tried to calm down the boy’s excitement as passing by them people chuckled. “As soon as we enter the city, we have to look for a place to claim for our stall. Then you will have enough time to admire the athletes.”

Already in the city, while the boy and his father were setting the booth, the boy’s eyes didn’t stop following the athletes, who raced, wrestled and boxed. A man dressed in a robe looking very gracefully as a granite statue gave a command to two wrestling boys. “Who is he?” the boy inquired, not noticing his father selling sesame to the first client.

As soon as the buyer was served, the father explained patiently, “That’s one of the judges whose been training the boys for the past month here in Olympia. That’s a tradition.”

Suddenly the boy’s attention was distracted by a yelling food-seller, “Fresh fig cake.” Now his observation shifted on the busy market place. It was jam-packed with booths and stalls; merchants selling the wares, artisans offering hand-made figurines as souvenirs, and food-sellers yelling about their goods. He was amazed seeing such a vibrant market place.

The following day in the morning, a ceremony opened the first day of the Olympic Games, followed with the first contests. The afternoon brought something the boy had never experienced before. It was presented with the speeches by well-known philosophers. “Who are they?” this became the boy’s constant question during the games.

The father always took time to answer them all, “They are one of the greatest thinkers.”

Aster didn’t understand any of the words that were spoken by the philosophers, but they were spoken in such poetic way that it captivated him. While his fascination was with a philosopher, two athletes approached the stall to buy sesame. “That’s the philosopher who says that his long age and good health is thanks to eating honey every day,” spoke one athlete seeing the boy’s interest. The boy was caught off guard and it took him a moment to register what had just happened. As soon as the athletes left, the boy looked at his father with big round eyes and said, “He spoke to me.” The father only smiled. He knew it was a lot for the boy to absorb at once.

The games went on for the next three days. The last day of the Olympic Festival was marked by the procession of victors and crowning them with the olive wreaths, followed by feasting and celebrations.

With a heavy heart Aster helped his father to pack the stall. “We just got here and we already have to pack,” these were the only words that escaped his mouth that morning. He wanted the games to go forever. He didn’t want to leave Olympia.

The father read the boy’s mind and wanting to cheer him up said, “Son if the games went forever, they would never be so special.” It seemed to work as a small smile decorated the boy’s face.

Upon return, the boy filled his mother with all the exciting news of what he saw and who spoke to him.

A few months after the games and before the first frost covered the ground, when it was time to harvest the sesame the boy remembered one of the athletes mentioning the honey. Because the sesame was sold as loose seeds, he said to his father, “Why don’t we mix it with honey and create small bars?”

The father was surprised at first, but after giving it a thought, he said, “Why not?” And this is exactly what they had done after the harvest. They created the first sesame bars known to Greeks as pasteli. With time they created variety of them by adding nuts and raisins.

The sesame bars became very popular throughout the village. It seemed as the chirping birds and the rustling leaves in the bordering woods spread the word to other villages. It farther travelled with the direction of the creeks and through the wide opened fields to the cities; making its way to all Greeks including athletes.