[ad_1]
My old classmate and good friend VS’s post took me back years, but it also reminded me of a story with a younger friend and colleague, at various business innovation activities that on a day like that, November 17, asked me in a message to the messenger: “Can you imagine why I was baptized Diomedes?
Let’s put things in order, starting with VS’s Facebook post: “A few days before the parliamentary elections on November 17, 1974, a young journalist from Epikaira magazine sided with Diomidis Komninos’ father while he waited at the hallway to testify to the interrogator and with the microphone of the tape recorder extended he asks him: “What party do you belong to?”
Last year, Diomidis Theocharopoulos sent me the following message in the messenger: “Diomidis Komninos. My mother’s brother. The first dead from the Polytechnic. He was executed by a bullet in the heart at 16 years old. I got his name from him” . 
The message froze me; It took me several minutes to recover. Diomedes had never mentioned it. And we’ve worked together and spent hours on panels coordinating events. To be honest, I never imagined that the tall and handsome young man would be the bearer of a historical truth, living proof that memory can guarantee the future of this place.
Mother
Yes, Diomedes took the name of the uncle he never met, only through family stories. We are trying to formulate such a narrative based on information given to us by the mother of the youngest Diomedes, Mrs. Haris Komninou, the oldest of the three children in the family. 
Diomidis Komninos, the first recorded death of the Polytechnic uprising, is only 16.5 years old when he is killed by police bullets on the night of November 16, 1973. Student in the last class of high school at a private school in Athens. A talented young man with a thirst for knowledge and studies and with an unimaginable talent in design, a talent that was even recognized by the services of the German automotive industry Mercedes, who had received a satisfactory dossier with his work.
Diomidis would go abroad, having already taken the pertinent steps for a scholarship. He did not receive a bullet in his heart, he cut the thread of his life that night in November. Despite his young age, he knew well where he was going and why he was going to the Polytechnic. In addition, he also participated in the events of Nomiki, from where he escaped from Giannis Koutsocheras (later a PASOK deputy). 
On the one hand, there was the mood of the offer (he was a scout from a young age) and on the other, the thirst for freedom. In fact, at the time of his murder he was standing with his arms raised trying to protect a wounded man who had been brutally beaten in the leg by snipers in the larger area of the Polytechnic. The bullet also found him in this position. Upright, unarmed, fearless, fearless! And yet, she offered her breasts to a regime of violence that had all the potential for an exciting life. The wealthy family, the father is an economist, one of the co-founders of a well-known advertising company of the time (Athens Advertising Center, his name), nephew of the architect Takis Zenetou who related his name to the FIX factory on Syggrou Avenue (A part of today’s National Museum of Contemporary Art Zenetos was his mother’s brother, who ran an antique shop in Plaka.
The narrative necessarily becomes fragmentary. I capture moments from the time after his murder. Her father, Giannis Komninos, struggles with great effort to find her lifeless body in the Athens morgue, which is later found on Marseille Street. The father finds the courage, as he says on an ERT program 13 years later, to cut a lock of his hair and glasses with scissors. At the same time, he “puts” the fatal bullet into his hand. Despite evidence and testimonies, her killer was never found because he was not wanted in the context of the lack of decontamination left in the shoals. 
The funeral of the murdered Diomedes takes place in the Zografou cemetery in a close family circle and in the presence of police forces. In those days of the massacre, he even wanted to go to the funeral and yet it was found that an energetic clergyman, Father George Pyrounakis (a family friend), took on this painful task.
Who were the murderers?
Father Komninos did not sit on his eggs even after his son’s murder. She chose to live abroad for a long time, between Switzerland and Greece, in an effort to organize her movements and initiatives to uncover her son’s murderers. After the change of government, with Father Georgios Pyrounakis at the forefront again and with academic professors and public figures, he participated in the Committee for the Rehabilitation of Victims of Seven Years, which helped so many people and families in need of multiple support.
Somewhere here the narrative ends with a promise to return in the near future, using footage.
For the end, I kept my father’s word. “The feast of the dead” and as the journalist María Rezan added years later, “the feast of the dead and human dignity.”
at google news and be the first to know all the news
[ad_2]
