I love speaking with the villagers in Sparta. They know their land with a level of intimacy that astonishes me:  every hiding place in the Taygetos mountains, every olive tree on their land, every goat trail that leads to an abandoned kalivia (shepherd’s hut), and the origins of every family in the village. Last summer, simply by hearing the surname, Christos told me that my great-grandfather, Andreas Kostakos, was from the now-abandoned village of Perganteika (read that post here).

The Kostakos family origins have mystified me for years and have morphed into my never-ending quest. The -akos suffix designates the Mani region, but I can’t find the family in any records outside of the Sparta area before 1844. The reason? Greece became an independent country on February 3,1830, after 400 years of Ottoman rule. It took time for the new government to begin record keeping; not much exists prior to 1840. Thus, all Greeks have the proverbial brick-wall during this timeframe.

Christos’ insistence that the Kostakos family was first in Perganteika, then in Anavryti, then in Agios Ioannis after the War of Independence (about 1835-40) has not satisfied my desire for proof. (An elusive commodity in Greek research). So, I pester anyone whom I meet with many questions. In return, I get bits and pieces, and sometimes a treasure like the one below (click on image to enlarge it).

Last July at the home of Peter Adamis in Pellana, I received an exensive history-geography lesson from Peter’s friend, Kostas Sgourdas. A native of the area and a renowned stone and marble mason, Kosta’s artisan work is found in government buildings, churches and homes throughout Lakonia. He has a comprehensive knowledge of the region and its people. And he shared much with me.

Kosta explained what I heard many times:  people fled to the towering Taygetos mountains to escape Ottoman dominion; after 1830 they started their descent into the valleys to begin a life of freedom. Kosta patiently and carefully sketched the map above to depict “layers of villages,” beginning at the top of the Taygetos range and descending into the plains of Sparta. I could now plainly see how the villages were staggered and, at times, stacked upon each other. As his pen moved down the page, I could almost visualize people moving down, incrementally, from the peaks. It was a logical movement of humanity and a powerful moment of clarity.

Kosta’s stories mesmerized me. These people–my people–were resilient, tough, inventive, smart, and scrappy survivors. The more I hear about village life in the 1800’s, the more I want to learn. I love Kosta’s map. It has not solved the Kostakos origin mystery, but it has enhanced my understanding. My respect for my ancestors grows with each fact I learn, and I am proud to be their descendant.