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People crowded into the warehouse; there were flowers and applause, young women calling her "the priestess of the Goddess," a few smartly dressed ladies begging for a private audience because of some illness in the family. The crowd started pushing us and blocking the entrance. We had never imagined that we might need some form of security, and I was frightened. I took her arm, picked up Viorel, and we went in.
Inside the packed room, a very angry Andrea was waiting for us.
"I think you should tell them that you're not performing any miracles today!" she shouted at Athena. "You're allowing yourself to be seduced by vanity! Why doesn't Hagia Sofia tell all these people to go away?"
"Because she can diagnose illnesses," replied Athena defiantly. "And the more people who benefit from that, the better."
She was about to say more, but the crowd was applauding and she stepped up onto the improvised stage. She turned on the small sound system she'd brought from home, gave instructions for people to dance against the rhythm of the music, and the ritual began. At a certain point, Viorel went and sat down in a corner--that was the moment for Hagia Sofia to appear. Athena did as I'd seen her do many times before: she abruptly turned off the music, clutched her head in her hands, and the people waited in silence, as if obeying an invisible command.
The ritual followed its unvarying path: there were questions about love, which were rejected, although she agreed to comment on anxieties, illnesses, and other personal problems. From where I was, I could see that some people had tears in their eyes, others behaved as if they were standing before a saint. Then came the moment for the closing sermon, before the group celebration of the Mother.
Since I knew what would happen next, I started thinking about the best way to get out of there with the minimum of fuss. I hoped that she would take Andrea's advice and tell them not to go looking for miracles there. I went over to where Viorel was sitting, so that we could leave the place as soon as his mother had finished speaking.
And that was when I heard the voice of Hagia Sofia.
"Today, before we close, we're going to talk about diet. Forget all about slimming regimes."
Diet? Forget about slimming regimes?
"We have survived for all these millennia because we have been able to eat. And now that seems to have become a curse. Why? What is it that makes us, at forty years old, want to have the same body we had when we were young? Is it possible to stop time? Of course not. And why should we be thin?"
I heard a kind of murmuring in the crowd. They were probably expecting a more spiritual message.
"We don't need to be thin. We buy books, we go to gyms, we expend a lot of brain power on trying to hold back time, when we should be celebrating the miracle of being here in this world. Instead of thinking about how to live better, we're obsessed with weight.
"Forget all about that. You can read all the books you want, do all the exercise you want, punish yourself as much as you want, but you will still have only two cho
ices--either stop living or get fat.
"Eat in moderation, but take pleasure in eating: it isn't what enters a person's mouth that's evil, but what leaves it. Remember that for millennia we have struggled in order to keep from starving. Whose idea was it that we had to be thin all our lives? I'll tell you: the vampires of the soul, those who are so afraid of the future that they think it's possible to stop the wheel of time. Hagia Sofia can guarantee that it's not possible. Use the energy and effort you put into dieting to nourish yourself with spiritual bread. Know that the Great Mother gives generously and wisely. Respect that and you will get no fatter than passing time demands. Instead of artificially burning those calories, try to transform them into the energy required to fight for your dreams. No one ever stayed slim for very long just because of a diet."
There was complete silence. Athena began the closing ceremony, and we all celebrated the presence of the Mother. I clasped Viorel in my arms, promising myself that next time I would bring a few friends along to provide a little improvised security. We left to the same shouts and applause as when we had arrived.
A shopkeeper grabbed my arm. "This is absurd! If one of my windows gets smashed, I'll sue you!"
Athena was laughing and giving autographs. Viorel seemed happy. I just hoped that no journalist was there that night. When we finally managed to extricate ourselves from the crowd, we hailed a taxi.
I asked if they would like to go somewhere to eat. "Of course," said Athena, "that's just what I've been talking about."
ANTOINE LOCADOUR, HISTORIAN
In this long series of mistakes that came to be known as "the Witch of Portobello affair," what surprises me most is the ingenuousness of Heron Ryan, an international journalist of many years experience. When we spoke, he was horrified by the tabloid headlines:
"The Goddess Diet!" screamed one.
"Get Thin While You Eat, Says Witch of Portobello!" roared another from its front page.
As well as touching on the sensitive topic of religion, Athena had gone further: she had talked about diet, a subject of national interest, more important even than wars, strikes, or natural disasters. We may not all believe in God, but we all want to get thin.
Reporters interviewed local shopkeepers, who all swore blind that, in the days preceding the mass meetings, they'd seen red and black candles being lit during rituals involving only a handful of people. It may have been nothing but cheap sensationalism, but Ryan should have foreseen that, with a court case in progress, the accuser would take every opportunity to bring to the judges' attention what he considered to be not only a calumny, but also an attack on all the values that kept society going.
That same week, one of the most prestigious British newspapers published in its editorial column an article by the Reverend Ian Buck, minister at the Evangelical Church in Kensington. It said, among other things:
As a good Christian, I have a duty to turn the other cheek when I am wrongly attacked or when my honor is impugned. However, we must not forget that while Jesus may have turned the other cheek, he also used a whip to drive out those wanting to make the Lord's House into a den of thieves. That is what we are seeing at the moment in Portobello Road: unscrupulous people who pass themselves off as savers of souls, giving false hope and promising cures for all ills, even declaring that you can stay thin and elegant if you follow their teachings.
For this reason, I have no alternative but to go to the courts to prevent this situation continuing. The movement's followers swear that they are capable of awakening hitherto unknown gifts and they deny the existence of an All-Powerful God, replacing him with pagan divinities such as Venus and Aphrodite. For them, everything is permitted, as long as it is done with "love." But what is love? An immoral force that justifies any end? Or a commitment to society's true values, such as the family and tradition?
At the next meeting, foreseeing a repetition of the pitched battle of August, the police brought in half a dozen officers to avoid any confrontations. Athena arrived accompanied by a bodyguard improvised by Ryan, and this time there was not only applause but also booing and cursing too. One woman, seeing that Athena was accompanied by a child, brought a charge two days later under the Children Act 1989, alleging that the mother was inflicting irreversible damage on her child and that custody should be given to the father.
