MY MEMORIES

In this dream-like memory ( this must have occurred in early 1937) I see myself in a huge bedroom with 2 or 3 beds and I am looking on the floor for a ring that I dropped – it must have been very precious to me as my grandmother (Cath no doubt ) had given it to me. I have no other recollections of our life in Aix before our departure to Addis Abbaba. Tea , in the photos taken on the ship looks a toddler of 18 months to 2 years – (1937 -38)

My father had gone to Africa as the firm had been awarded the contract to build in Addis Ababa quite a large number of houses for the Italians that were immigrating. He must have been away already for a year or year and a half. My mother with us was therefore following him. There was not much built as yet and all the accommodation was part of the house of a minister of Haile Selassie. This household must have been quite Europeanised – western clothed, western education. Many of them spoke Italian, French and no doubt English. Despite all this veneer I remember my mother / father saying that our neighbours – the young men, were off hunting, as the season was right, in the hinterland. Later I learned that the hunting was for slaves sold for good prices in the Islamic countries of the North.

There we were in Addis Ababa -” Via per loritana”. I don’t remember houses after ours – or opposite. There seems to be a wide expanse of shrub land with some tallish trees. My mother used to say that they gave the oxygen, which was in rather short supply due to the height of the Addis Ababa plateau (8000 ft)

There was the episode of my mother cooking risotto with spinach (my mother had made a little vegetable garden). She picked spinach but also belladonna which resembles very much spinach. After lunch my father and I became very sick and hallucinating . We were taken to hospital for washing out the contents of our tummies. I don’t remember the incident.

Around that time my mother must have fallen ill with pneumonia . This illness was most of the time fatal. Hearing of this my father rushed home to fetch “L’eau de Lourdes” to give to my mother. My mother who was very ill was feeling herself leaving this world . She could see, she said, her two little girls abandoned and all of a sudden she felt she couldn’t abandon them, she had to live. From that moment on she improved.

This is of course far from the eventful event of crossing to Africa (there are two pictures of it). It must have been a daunting task for my mother with little luggage, two little girls and a land ahead which she knew nothing about except what my father had been able to tell her in what must have been infrequent letters.

Still now we were in the semi- jungle and that journey seems to have been made in a civilised way. Do you know ,Tea , it must have been the first and last time that we had our heads shaved – all in the course of vanity, as it would grow longer and stronger said our mother. There is something I do remember hearing at night – strange shrieking howling barks – hyenas said my mother, coming around the houses to see if they could steal something to eat.

Then one day we heard ( I am sure we all did – I certainly know I did) in the distance some shouting out ah! Ah! Ah! Then we saw a man with his hand held out begging, his mouth wide open – the explanation was that he had had his tongue cut out because he had told lies. As in any Islamic Countries they had the custom of enforcing their laws in the most cruel way – an eye for an eye , a tooth for a tooth, a hand for stealing ….. an eye, a foot for related offences.

One day we moved to our new house. I still remember the thrill of going into that new house, all very light and bright , the smell of paint and finding ones way. The garden still needed to be done at the back. I remember playing in the front and seeing a ‘shifta’ – an African with rather long curly hair making a kind of halo around his head. My mother was very concerned and said never to approach one of them. They were very dangerous and cruel. My father was very busy no doubt. He used to come home and tell how things went.

This I don’t remember but was told to us by our father When one of their buildings was completed or in the process of being terminated, they had to be guarded at night because the “indigenes” would install themselves in them , make fires in the middle of the freshly plastered room and cause a great deal of damage. Life must have settled there for us.

We two were having some nursery education with the nuns that belonged to the church. A large church had been built on the main square -when and by whom I don’t know. It could even be by Menelick. Anyway, nuns were there with tall black hats and they taught us to make Rosaries.

I don’t remember my father leaving – he must have been called up to join the Italian army in 1939.

Here is the saga of my fathers in his attempts to survive and find his little family. We heard all these details many years later by my father who kept us spellbound – he was a very good storyteller.

22.10.96 They fought and fought in the roughest terrain. At the head of a group of soldiers they had to mount guard over a certain section. In the morning however each sentinel was found hacked to pieces. So, taking the place of one of his soldiers on guard he waited until he could see the African (Abysinian or Ethiopian) coming to commit his murder. He forced him to go to the cave where his accomplices were. Once there he threw a mine into the cave and they had no trouble after that. The Air Force www head not letting a patch unturned by the violence of their bombing. The Italian defence seems to be so weak. The only thing they could do, says my father, to stay alive, was to go and protect themselves under an overhanging rock. I think that by this time my father must have been wounded perhaps not so much but because they had no supplies of any kind and dying of thirst at night my father and others made their way down to the waters of the Nile, put a handkerchief over the water they sipped. At times they had been able to see that these waters were infested with by all sorts of grubs. There were corpses of horses everywhere.

Back in the safety of their shelter they had to suffer more heavy bombing. My father must have been hit again by shrapnel. Nothing was left but wait for help. The English did find my father. (I am not quite clear as to the sequence of events). He may have been taken to hospital by the Italians then the hospital taken by the English.

28.10.96 He stayed in hospital for a while , then transferred to a prisoner of war camp in the Sudan. There under the scorching sun there was less and less food although my father always said that there was no food for the captives but also for the guards. Time went on and prisoners were dying of malnutrition and dysentery. My father used to say that he was only skin and bones, but he was lucky. He had made a friend of an African who used to bring him, when he could, a little piece of raw onion and raw liver. And this is what saved his life reckoned my father.

The prisoners were shipped to South Africa. There was a land of plenty used to say my father, compared to the Sudan. The prisoners were able to grow vegetables. The weather must have been quite pleasant except for great storms at night. And then in the morning the soil seemed as if it had been ploughed by streaks of lightening due, said my father, to the attraction of the diamonds under the ground.

1st Nov 1996 From South Africa the Italian prisoners were taken to Australia then to India where his skills of Master Builder was always made to use and appreciated. My father was finally repatriated in 1946 and I may tell of those tales later.

After my fathers capture and the occupation of Addis Ababa by the British Forces, things had to change for all but in particular for my mother and the two of us -Pia and Tea. The first thing I remember after the occupation was the image of a foreign soldier (I don’t know if I knew he was British) riding a motorbike with a long long whip in his hand and he was shouting at the Africans to shoo to get away from the far buildings – our house being near the border. A kind of curfew must have been established then but perhaps the invading forces must have felt it difficult to patrol to keep under control. So that’s when they asked the Europeans to move more centrally to the town. In town some houses must have been sequestrated and allocated to families moving in (I expect).

We found ourselves in a house near the centre of the town. Its owners who I feel had a manservant lived somewhere in town – he had not been conscripted- why? What strings had he been able to pull? He certainly seemed to have a lot of weight within the town. He came several times to the house to see how things were I suspect. It could be him to organise a Christmas party that I can particularly remember. We children had a marvellous time with our parents, having a most wonderful sponge-like cake with, on top, some creme Chantilly (all frothy and white) but with a flavour that to this day I have tried to recapture. Later we were sent to sleep. But who could sleep? – and I can remember watching through some railings with others and we finally went to bed ever so late! Life was very different here from the one we had near the outskirts of town.

From the house we were able to get to one of the main streets going up along a gentle incline – all shady with a little stream running along it. At the bottom a gate on the right and there in the garden stood two houses. On the right “ours” and rather xxxx us an older house where Greeks lived – a large tree grew near it full of monkeys – small sweet looking animals “vicious” said our mother, “Don’t go near them, they’ll gouge your eyes out, they like all that shines”.

In the garden something that has always haunted me ( I think Tea remembers too), a well nearly in line with the path, very little ridge to it and a great fear of falling in from my part.

Memorable souvenirs come also from the house behind ours, where lived Ethiopians. We became friendly with them and the girls there used to pass us some chicken roasted and covered with a particular red sauce (the spices used must be very special, red slightly hot. I have never found it or have I ever found a way to repeat it) – the chicken was laid on a thin little pancake and the whole was very tasty – they also introduced us to the delicious corn cobs roasted on the open fire.

Behind the Ethiopian house or somewhere in the village we saw how they weaved their white cloth they call ” il shiames” – They used to weave it round and round their houses – Once done they look beautiful – white – light.

4.10.96 For some reason we were put , Tea and I, in a boarding school then. The war must have been affecting the life in the town; my mother was asked to go and work in the Post Office. In the boarding school (“asilio”) I must have been one of the oldest since I was given the task of looking after a baby; mind you I already had a baby to look after, my little sister. At night I had to make sure to wake up, to wake her up to go on the potty. They relieved me of that task also because I bumped the baby’s’ head once too often. I hate in that school they gave us some stuff to drink every morning ( a kind of whitish, thick stuff, horrible – the taste has stayed with us hasn’t it Tea!)- (this was about in the 40’ies)

I found myself then on a truck. We have been moved to a camp nearer the sea at Asmara and will then follow the shipping back to Italy to offload the Italian families. During the long journey on the truck, past parched land with steep hillocks here and there and then termite homes. There was another stop there before getting to Asmara – perhaps Tea you will remember the name – it was very hot, steaming hot. Our mother again fiddled with our hair. She washed it with petroleum – terrible – it stung, I cried, the experience was stopped.

During those days the heat continued – Tea was asked to get a bottle of water (- glass bottle) – Don’t run said my mother! But do you think Tea would do what she was told – she fell – my poor little one fell! Oh! The glass had gone into the palm. I can still see the little hand bandaged.

I think this accident must have helped our moving out – to “Asmara” a cooler very green oasis. Once there I remember all the children being taken to a beautiful wild garden. Such huge flowers in vivid colours. We were promised that trip again soon.

One more memory about Asmara – one day my mother and I were wandering around the little ethnic town when we were approached by some police. What are you doing here? Do you know the time? You are not supposed to be here after 5pm – or whatever – I’ll have to take you back – Well we had infringed some curfew law! I still remember that bright coloured market full of commotion, bustle of trade – we must have bought coffee there, bags of greens, to take home – wherever home will be.

The next stop highlighting the journey is the departure from Asmara to the port of “Berbera” I think – the port we were going to leave from – a place renowned for its heat. I remember standing on the quay, the sun beating down. My mother had made us some sun hats but that was insufficient. I remember her taking off her jacket and putting it on our head. There was a priest next to us, all in black in that heat! I think my mother said that he later died of sun stroke.

We were soon on board, mums and children with their little meagre hand luggage. Pleasant memories from the ship. Lots of room to run and play. To play in a very large ballroom that had been converted into a bedroom with three beds stacked up, you can imagine the fun. Then running along the outer corridors covered up and full of air flowing in from the roughest of seas. It was fun. At that time it took me the urge of knitting. We just had Christmas – 1942. I had had a present , a knitting set with knitting needles and a French knitting set and tapestry frame – a dream for me.

At that time it also came into my mind the idea of my mother giving us a little brother or sister. It would be so nice to nurse them. Nothing ever happened to that!

There was a great celebration one day on the deck – the ship was crossing the equator. We were all drenched in the midst all singing and dancing. All men allowed on board were the staff (English) looking after the convoy – I think that convoy was made up of 3 ships “Saturnia”, the ship where we were, “Vulcania” – can’t remember the name of the third. We were making South – my father had written about the beauty of Port Elizabeth- so we were looking out for this port. We then turned the Cape and made for home.

Many convoys followed the route south. From our father we learned that his convoy was made up of 42 ships. Of these, very few were left on arrival. One day opening the round window in the bathroom I noticed the sea covered with black balls – they could make such wonderful games! The ships pilot must have worked twice harder! – it was Gibraltar and its entrance highly defended.

My next memory is being on a train; it was dark, the platform was busy. Either we had just arrived or we were just leaving or we must have changed trains, but the important thing was that Tea had lost a shoe. I looked and looked but I think in vain. That was in Brindisi. We had landed and making our way to my grandmother who was in Aix-les-Bains.

We had to stop 6 months in Italy at Loreto, a very famous pilgrimage place – I didn’t know it at the time. Forms had to be filled in etc., so we stayed there in a little hotel, a pleasant quiet time for us – I expect it wasn’t the same for our mother who had to keep calling at offices and filling in more forms again. The church is impressive with a dark sanctuary and candles only. In Loreto life must have been more quiet. Mother had time to buy books- beautiful little children’s books – and mother would read to us at night, Snow White and the 6 dwarfs, etc., but there was a frightening one – Pinocchio where two rogues manipulated the helpless little boy, well, I thought, if life was such its going to be a struggle. I didn’t like also walking with mother along the main street – there, congregating in the first days of spring were all the old people, and white hair frightened me. We had come across so few elderly people, I remember crying at night before being pacified and accepting the fact. We went to school there. School uniform – black overalls with white cuffs and collar. Mother did use it when we went to school in Aix-les-Bains later but they didn’t have overalls in France!

The journey to Aix. It must have been a harrowing time for mother. The hand luggage had to be lighter already on the ship. My mother , like the other ladies was made to throw overboard most of their coffee – considered an expensive commodity, therefore a reserve of funds wherever they went. The hand luggage must have been small. Mother had made us two little coats from a blanket. It was a thick woollen coat. We had very little in the way of warm clothes in Addis but somehow mother always managed. She managed also the journey to France. Of that journey I remember seeing lots of fires and damaged buildings. At one point mother said it was Genoa, but all I saw was fire and some standing buildings.

In Aix we had shelter, a grandmother we didn’t remember but soon became a grandmother in a million, 2 uncles (my mothers 2 brothers)- very loving ones. So this atmosphere of love and care soon settled us – Zio Iano making Christmas toys for us. We had two little beds, all pink and the pink frilly dolls and oranges! – such a treat!

5.9.96 It is getting a long time going this morning And so life went on and my mother had to cope with it. No money was coming in – perhaps something from the government. However she went to work as a helper in hospitals. Aix had been converted into a hospital town, all the big hotels were hospitals. My nona (my mums mum ) was working at her occupation, she was quite well known as a seamstress in town. She had been working for a few years with a well regarded couturier in Paris. She had done her apprenticeship. She was “une petite main”. And there I remember her sitting at her sewing machine, the two of us around listening to marvellous tales , learning to sew and also embroider at her side.

We had also to go to school – school! – there were those dreaded private lessons in a flat at the top of a rococo building in the “Rue du Petit Port”. Once at school things were better. Although having no French ( I remember trying to make up a language that sounded like French) at the end of September we were there with the other pupils. We were no doubt selected according to ability and off we went.

Again in school we had to make up French – so , take an Italian word , give it a French sound and most of the time it worked.. We quickly made nice friends. We were happy. We discovered the library, wonderful place. My mothers concern was that all this reading would harm us. I discovered paint, colouring crayons, paper, I loved paper, huge bundles of it. This was a girls school, opposite was the boys. They were very old schools then – I wonder if they are still up.

The war was coming to an end. There was a lot of movement in the town. For the two of us it was bargaining – crossing the railway lines for a piece of pain d’epice against some slices of saucisson. The episode of going to buy milk. We had a special container for milk, deep and narrow so that milk would be carried more easily. Well I had to scratch my nose of water xxx and asked Tea to carry the milk. But no, she wasn’t going to carry any milk. So, the pot was left in the middle of the road.. How I spoiled that child!

On the road there was lots of activity. Jeeps appeared from everywhere giving chocolate, chewing gum and stockings for the young ladies – very joyous scenes – although the children were fighting over the streets

6.11.96 Je n’ai pas beaucoup de forces aujourdhui, j’ai seulement de dormir – non, il n’y a pas de moyen de garder les yeux ouverts – Well there were more and more jeeps. Aix must have been freed from the Germans. There were big lorries around. At sometime there were French prisoners taken for having been collaborators – there were marks on the walls of the “Piscine Olympique”. Life went on – 1946- my father was demobilised and came to France but had a struggle to get there.

Meanwhile we were put in a boarding school (Notre Dame du Rocher at Chambery). We stayed there a year. My father had returned and we were going to stay together. My parents were without home or financial resources. It must have been a life very difficult for all. Returning home from Chambery meant going to school at Aix in a semi-boarding school: Pensionnnat Jeanne d’Arc on top of the hill overlooking the lake.

When we were at Chambery it was le very cold winter of 1947-48. In school it was a happy time – we had some wonderful teachers – St Francois Xavier (English teacher), Sr. Marie (Maths) and so many others. We had become very friendly with Marinette Javetz . She is still a very good friend to this day-Marinette is the mother of Jean – Bernard. There were the walks around Aix and we rode all over the surroundings with our parents , friends or with the school. School was marvellous. We worked and very hard but we played too.

Je vais changer ce cahier , comme ca Karl pourra pousse le signe . Pousse sur le computer. J’ai oublie de dire qu’il va tout copier “le chef!” – ca me tien tres long d’ecrire cette phrase.

7.11.96 Voyons voir! Si je peux pouvoir commencee la phrase. Alors je vais continuer l’histoire de ma vie. Yes Jeanne d’Arc was a good school . We were happy there. It was the 1st Bac, then the 2nd – then le college Rossignoli. Then Tea will remember the rest. After the occupation the town did settle down . Still it was full of rumours of what this one did and/or the other horrific tales. Life went on, but still harsh. Remember Tea, going fishing with Zio Mino by the lake – a good catch for Zio Mino, as for us a dress in the lake, pushed by the wind. I must record this- Remember all the lake and the sessions eating “la friture” – all the outings with Sr Francois de Xavier and Sr Matie – up the mountain , going to Myan with Nonna and Mamma. We walked to the top amongst the vines and at times the vinegrowers. It must have been Sept – Oct because we had to start school again.

Pia died at 10.30pm on 07 November 1996