Evangelistria. A century of movement in Nea Ionia, Volos

The construction of the church was completed swiftly. By spring 1926, the Church of Evangelismos [The Annunciation], as it was called, had already been erected and the Metropolitan Council of Dimitriada recognised the independence of the parish lying ‘beyond the Krafsidonas River’. The parish comprised 711 refugee families.  

The original sum offered by the Municipality from its own reserve funds was enough to cover the first few months of construction. Many Asia Minor refugees contributed to the construction of the church as builders, workers, and carriers, or donated icons and family relics brought over from their places of origin. These donations of precious heirlooms and labour bolstered the refugees’ sense of belonging to their now home, their new parish. Even the first priests who offered mass in the church were refugees. Evangelistria, as the church came to be known, managed to bring together refugees of different origins, languages and socioeconomic classes from the wider area of Asia Minor, and unite and ‘homogenise’ them under the identity of parishioner.

The church became the core of Nea Ionia, a common space which brought refugees together not just to attend mass and religious celebrations, but also to participate in key demographic events (baptisms, weddings, funerals). In contrast with the tiny refugee houses and rooms, Evangelistria’s huge courtyard belonged to all refugees. It was a meeting point, a space for play and recreation, and the end of Nea Ionia’s main thoroughfare, Fardy. 

The growth in local population over the following decades made the construction of a larger church imperative. The new church was built on approximately the same location as the old one, with a small altar marking the place where the old altar used to be. The foundations of the new church were laid in 1949 and its construction was carried out in stages and completed in 1966. Once again, the contribution of the refugee congregation through fundraising and personal labour during the long construction process proved invaluable. Evangelistria stands out thanks to its tall belfry and its clock which strikes the hour in the settlement by ringing the church bell. Today Evangelistria remains the centre of Nea Ionia.      

The urban refugee neighbourhoods funded by the Refugee Settlement Commission or other housing schemes tend to look alike for many reasons. They were built based on the same or similar urban zoning plans; they were characterised by small houses which incorporated public space as part of the house when the weather allowed; the people who lived in these houses had similar migration histories and gradually developed relationships and a shared everyday life. The original residential area of Nea Ionia is no different. The residents of Nea Ionia came from different areas in Asia Minor and various economic strata. At first, the households kept to themselves and very few relatives or friends were able to acquire a house close to each other. However, relationships gradually started developing between neighbours and only strengthened with time.

Walking among the yards of the refugee houses in Nea Ionia today, you get the sense that you have been transported to the past. When visiting the refugee blocks and courtyards, it feels like you are intruding in a private space, even though the space is public and the residents mostly polite, welcoming and eager to talk to visitors. It is usually the older residents of these houses who are more extroverted, spend more time in their yards, and share more of their lives with their neighbours who they’ve known for years. They can immediately spot a visitor and happily take on the part of ‘block ambassador’, feeling the need to expound on the beautiful and difficult moments both they and their parents experienced, but also gloss over the hardships of the past and complain about the new problems of living in these houses. They usually know the stories of everyone who has ever lived there and have an anecdote to share with the ‘foreigner’ who is visiting their neighbourhood.

Today, the refugee houses of Nea Ionia, along with the rest of the refugee neighbourhoods established in the 1920s, house the migrants and refugees of the 20th and 21st century. The houses built for the refugees of 1922 offered a safe haven to the newcomers of different periods over the century that followed: internal migrants, Roma, migrants from Albania, Eastern Europe and the Global South, war refugees in 2015. This constant ebb and flow of mobility highlights the common characteristics and needs shared by migrant populations. Whether frictionless or tense, the co-existence of the adults and the shared games of the children in the neighbourhood’s narrow alleys signify the continuation of life in space despite all the hardships. The houses of the first refugees continue to host the hopes and dreams of successive waves of newcomers to the neighbourhood.

When we look at refugee houses and refugee interwar settlements in general, our gaze tends to focus on the past and not the present. We analyze how important and valuable they were 100 years ago from a social, economic and urban planning perspective, while we disregard an entire century of movement and how it has affected their population composition. We also tend to ignore the problems their current residents face, having to live in old houses with numerous construction issues. The houses of Nea Ionia carry the history of mobility to and from the city of Volos throughout the 20th and into the 21st century. They have housed the hopes and dreams of newcomers from different eras and continue to do so.