SU_T_11

[i] Hello [name], would you like to introduce yourself and tell us who you are?

[r] Yes, my name is [name] and I was born in Asmara. And I’ve lived in Turin for about 40 years, so I’m a bit more Piedmontese because my father is from Piedmont and my mother is from Asmara. But I’ve been here for many years and I like it because I feel at home here now, I’m used to it. But deep down I’ve always felt African, it’s something stronger than me. Even if I have an Italian surname I’m Italian in all respects, but I feel African. I feel more like I belong to my mother than to my father. But I don’t know, maybe because they took me away from them a bit, I wanted to be with my grandmother, I want to be in Africa, but they brought me to Italy because my father is from Turin. Then nothing, unfortunately he passed away, my mum was left alone, we had a life of sacrifices, in short, my mum suffered a lot, she was great because she never remarried. So alone, she raised 4 children, a widow at 34 years old. Unfortunately, two of my brothers left for college because we couldn’t afford it. Let’s say that it was just me and the youngest, who was born just before my father passed away. And of course you found yourself in difficulty and you managed to get by, you started doing cleaning jobs to help us grow up, we lived in the barracks in Turin because at the beginning there were barracks for refugees. And then they moved us no, at the beginning we were in a hotel and from the hotel they moved us to the barracks we stayed in those barracks for 2 or 3 years. They’re the iron ones, at first they gave them to us like that, but that’s what they gave us and that’s where we had to stay. And then years later we were allocated council housing, we would have been there 2 or 3 years I don’t even remember anymore. I was a young girl so I used to run around with my little sister, nothing and my mum went to work, we grew up well because she was a good mum, I haven’t lost her yet but I adored her. That was it, and then nothing. I’m 18 now and I met the man who is now my husband. I’ve had 2 children. For me they’re great, they’re little jewels, I adore my children. And I also adore my husband. Nothing, he has his job and I help out from time to time, just occasionally. But anyway, overall, let’s say that’s the general picture. Then I can say…

[i] About the general picture, I ask you… you’ve told us a very true, very vivid story, haven’t you? And what years were those? Above all, you said ‘they put us in refugee barracks’

[r] Of course.

[i] Why did you appear as refugees?

[r] Of course, because my father was practically Italian, and when the war between Eritrea and Ethiopia began there was a bit of tension. So he was repatriated because he was Italian and we went with him. We are refugees in all respects, we have the refugee certificate and therefore the treatment provided was that you had to stay in a hotel first and then later in council housing, let’s say they gave us council housing in the 70s. So we spent about 5 years in barracks, yes. And then we also had this, I mustn’t forget, when we first arrived we had an aunt who hosted us.

[r] She was a relative of my father’s who hosted us, because at the beginning there wasn’t even a hotel. I don’t know, we had arrived here and she hosted us, I remember that, I don’t remember much because I was also a young girl. So for me to come here in November and see the snow and it being freezing cold, I would have run away immediately, I swear.

[i] So the idea of leaving Eritrea wasn’t a choice and let’s say it wasn’t something your parents dictated, but it was a consequence?

[r] One moment, yes, of a situation, my father had been there for many years and was well. But he tells us that during that period he was also ill, with a heart condition. So he was transferred directly from the hospital, that is, my father was in hospital when we left. They took him to the airport by ambulance. So that was part of it, but above all the problem was the tension that was building up at that time, that is, I was going to school and he would take me in the morning, when he could get on the bus because there was a bus that took you to school. And there were already two armed people around and there was a climate of high tension.

[i] And what are your memories of Asmara?

[r] Nice.

[i] Tell us what your daily life was like. You talked about your grandmother: ‘I wanted to stay, I didn’t want to leave.’

[r] Yes, I wanted to be with my grandmother because she was a wonderful person. And… we were happy in Africa, we weren’t unhappy, we had our little house. We had 2 maids, but you know that in Africa that’s quite normal. One might clean, the other might take you to school or cook for you. So we lacked nothing, I was happy because they had to take me away from there. I didn’t realise it, but the worst moment was when the ship left the port of Massawa. Because it was already halfway out to sea, the ship had already left or it couldn’t land, maybe there was a bit of tension, it couldn’t reach the shore, so with a motorboat they made us reach the ship, which was already offshore. And to see the figure of my mum gradually disappearing over this port of Massawa. It’s something I’ll never forget, it’s stayed in my heart.

[i] So the transition from a quiet, peaceful, family life,

[r] It wasn’t nice.

[i] To let’s say a Turin that welcomes a family of legends.

[r] I forgot one detail, which is so important. We were welcomed as refugees in the Brindisi refugee camp. There was a refugee camp and it was an amazing thing, bunk beds, it looked like a military barracks, maybe it was a barracks. Bunk beds and you went to get food at the canteen, you know those little military things, the card, your ration. They were made of metal, military-type stuff, you know, and I remember that we stayed there for 3 months in this place in Brindisi, we did. Those who came with us did too, not just us.

[i] Of course.

[r] From there, some of us went to stay with a relative, some went to another city. After the refugee camp period that was in Brindisi and some were also in Bari. After that we came to Turin, because my father was from Turin. So we came here. But my father, after 30 years in Africa, his relatives didn’t have all this confidence, this joy of seeing him again. And he arrived with this black woman with the children, you know…

[i] Something didn’t add up?

[r] And the Piedmontese were quite closed off, there weren’t many foreigners, there was only one from Libya. The Libyans were here but there weren’t many foreigners. So we were looked at a bit strangely, because you know, it almost seemed like someone wanted to touch you to see if you were flesh like them. To touch this colour was a bit, I don’t know how to put it, ugly but now that I think about it it makes me laugh. At the time, however, you had a hard time with it, so to speak.

[i] They’re not toys.

[r] Good, yes. Sometimes you laughed, and then when you’re little you see things differently. But on the whole I can say that Italians are good people. I have to say that basically they’re good, they’re a nice people. I mean, once you get to know them, apart from the initial mistrust, they’re very welcoming and trusting, I have to recognise that. I have some wonderful memories of Asmara, memories of when you were a child, playing with friends, a nice, peaceful life. I mean, nothing bad happened, absolutely nothing. Maybe once the thieves broke in, that was the worst thing. So… no, there was maybe the earthquake once. Other than that I was fine, I even cut school, I remember my father got angry with me because I cut school, I was a little girl.

[i] Did you go to the Italian school in Asmara?

[r] Yes, to the Italian school. I always went to school, but I also studied Amharic at the beginning, but then I stopped. It would have been nice, but then I never…

[i] And then you didn’t study anymore.

[r] I don’t know anything about Amharic. I’ve always been an Ethiopian-Eritrean union. I am someone who sees the country as one, not separate. This is my point of view, for me, we must be united, that is, we must stay together, we cannot divide.

[i] One people.

[r] For me, yes, they are one people. Also because we are all mixed up, those who don’t have relatives or relatives in Addis Ababa and not being able to see them was not nice. For me, yes, being Italian as in documents I can go where I want. But the families were separated, my aunt died but at night they took her away from home to send her back to Eritrea. After 40 years or 35 years of working in Addis Ababa, these things are not nice. I mean, clearly it caused us a lot of suffering, these things shouldn’t happen.

[i] Of course

[r] In my opinion. Also because if I meet someone from Ethiopia, they see me as I see them, we’re the same, we’re too similar, we can’t be separated, it’s useless.

[i] There is a connection.

[r] Yes, very close, we can’t not we must in my opinion.

[i] And going back to your arrival, no, here in Italy those years were particular years, what’s more, the war for a family of mixed race, mixed races what’s more, your mum was alone with her children, a black woman.

[r] With an article like that in the press.

[i] About your family?

[r] Yes, about my mum, who did… they gave her a hand at the time. Was ‘Lo specchio dei tempi’ there?

[i] Sorry.

[r] ‘Lo specchio dei tempi’ was the name of a newspaper article, and there was I don’t know… she didn’t know anything poor thing. She found an article ‘a help to the black widow’, yes I swear to you. I remember that I was in that photo, there was a photo of me, my mum I don’t remember.

[i] And what was it like to grow up as such a determined woman because you had to in order to survive?

[r] Yes, very

[i] And raising 4 children on your own, it must not have been easy. How was she such a figure next to you?

[r] But I think my mother was very, very clever. Because she was almost capable of being both mother and father. That is, being tough, because there was a need for that too, and sweet, because at times she was a very sweet mother, I mean. And I’m sorry about that because I don’t want it anymore… but I miss it.

[i] I grew up with this very strong woman. Even though you say ‘I feel African’, are you Italian for all intents and purposes?

[r] Yes

[i] That is, you were born to a father of Italian origin… whom you barely knew. Did your mum pass this on to you?

[r] I don’t know if it’s from my mum or my grandmother, you know, because my mum probably didn’t have much of an Italian upbringing because she was raised in a boarding school. So she was very much in the Italian tradition with the Bolis, it was called, so she was Italian with the nuns at Sant’Anna, sorry. They were the nuns of Sant’Anna cathedral in Asmara there was a boarding school she was raised there. So I don’t think that she is my grandmother, I don’t remember Tigrinya, not that I know it. I don’t know for sure, but I remember it, I mean, as if you never wanted to forget, you know. Sometimes my mum spoke Italian with me, you know, so sometimes they would say to me, you’re better than your mum. Because anyway, or maybe because as a child you remember things. And then because I went back to Asmara, I wanted to go back, I wanted to see it again. When the war ended in ‘91, there was liberation, I went to Asmara with my children. It was crazy, because it was reckless, why bring two children there straight away. We were celebrating the peace, we were all full of palm leaves, you know, happy, Asmara was beautiful, I must say that I remembered it in a certain way. You know, when you’re little, maybe you remember things bigger. When I arrived, maybe because I was used to Turin, I saw everything as small, I said everything was small here. Nice houses aren’t bad. Asmara is very well kept and clean. Then I went to Massawa. Massawa was a disaster. Because on the road to Massawa it was extremely hot. The whole road was full of… I don’t know what you call it, it wasn’t paved. We were in a Gip, all white road, all dust. But there were some things that I remember that made me feel bad. There were many bodies, many skeletons that were left. In Massawa we went to a bombed hotel, there was a hole in it, unfortunately that’s how it was. It wasn’t nice, because it had been nice at one time if you can believe it. But anyway Massawa wasn’t in a good state at that time. We stayed there a couple of days because we had to go to the beach anyway. Because I wanted to see Massawa, because I had only seen it when I left Massawa. I’ve never been to Massawa, I wanted to see it. I don’t remember anything about this hotel, this hole, there were several places with bomb holes, you know. But then later they moved on and built a nice tourist village. So they’ve made great strides, no. I must say that Asmara is nice but I wouldn’t live there anymore. No, I wouldn’t feel at ease there anymore because you feel… the problem is that you leave when you’re young and then later on. You’re a foreigner here, because you’re a foreigner here and you’re a foreigner there too. Because you come from outside and you have different habits and different situations. So it’s not easy to integrate, you understand. Because they take life calmly, almost boringly. Let’s say this calmness is boring for you, because you are used to a different rhythm. But it’s okay, you can live with it for a week, eating Zighinin and being with relatives is nice. But then to live, no, not anymore. Maybe Addis Ababa is more lively. We went to the house in Addis Ababa and there were people in the street, at the traffic lights. Poor things with no legs, some with no eyes, victims of the war, but they were still begging. Whereas in Asmara you didn’t see this, you never understood why, but in Asmara they weren’t there. In Massawa yes, excuse me, in Addis Ababa many did.

[i] When you went back down …

[r] I went back to see where I lived. I went to see where I was born.

[i] What was the impact like?

[r] I have to tell you that I remembered everything well. The nostalgia, maybe you know the nostalgia of some friends, who I had, who maybe were in America, who I never heard from again, and then people, you know, they come to mind anyway, there lived this one, there lived that one, there lived another one, I found someone, yes, but they’ve all left, most of them have left.

[i] Of course, sorry, there were many Italians in the area where I lived because I lived in Via Zamanda. Via Zamanda was an area that we called the Italian area, in fact there were quite a few Italians

[i] And did you see your grandmother again?

[r] She had already passed away

[i] So the last time was at the port of Massawa

[r] That’s how I remember my grandmother and that’s it finished

[i] And taking a step forward, what was it like to grow up, become a teenager, become a woman, become a mother and live in Turin, with a very Italian woman but who has an appearance that is, shall we say, not exactly native?

[r] In what respect?

[i] That is, in society, how did you feel accepted? How did you experience this boundary of skin colour in terms of your appearance?

[r] And what I was saying to you at the beginning wasn’t easy because anyway there was already a period in which the north already had it in the sense that there were signs there that you will have already heard with the words ‘no houses to be rented to southerners’ so you’re not only southern but you’re also African so… it wasn’t easy at the beginning because if they saw that they looked at you differently, in the sense that this was there but without malice, maybe then it was enough that they knew you and then this passed into the background, it wasn’t nice at the beginning, I didn’t feel at ease, I didn’t like it here, if I had to be honest I got used to it, but I’d rather go and live in New York or wherever there’s the world I like it with all races you know, there are a few more people here now, not before, so you feel more observed, more like ‘the black girl’. They don’t say it so much now because there are so many of us, so maybe they’re a bit like that… habit even no before a little bit yes I wanted to leave I wanted to leave in fact I said to my mum why did you bring me I was fine with my grandmother but let’s say that then among friends you overcome all these things it wasn’t really a drama or maybe because of my character I think I’m quite tough so I didn’t make a big deal out of it I’ve always been proud of being the way I am in fact if I had to be born again I would like to be like this or even darker. this is my idea in fact they say to me ‘but you never need to go to the beach’ I sunbathe and I want to become darker I like it like this and I’m happy with it I’ve never said I’ll put on you know… I see many people who maybe if they put on light-coloured make-up now, it’s been a while, there was a period where African women almost wanted to become pale, white powder, white things, but why? Excuse me, if you’re white, why do you want to become white? Your colour is that. I don’t know about that. I’ve never had a problem with it. Maybe others did, but not me. I’ve never had a problem with it and I don’t give a damn. I’m happy like this. And then how do you relate to others? others well maybe how you behave I also think it’s important not to be arrogant polite because one anyway maybe thanks to my mother I think that in general in the family we are quite polite and I have also tried to give this to my children even if I complained I argued with my mother it was a continuous conflict, real clashes but I really appreciate what we have been through and I have tried to pass this on to my children and I found myself in conflict with my children and I still find myself in conflict with them today because the fact is that as a child I was a mum who nagged to use other words because the other mums were better and I always said no I always said no to everything no this no that no ‘why are you like that that mum is good that other one’s mum is good’ there is no school for mothers I do as I feel everyone does as they feel so I think that all in all I hope they are good kids anyway I think it helped me a lot

[i] Of course

[r] The fact that my mother was quite strict with me with us for me I behaved well with them I did my best as a mother and my husband as a father

[i] Of course. And your children, this African side

[r] Do they feel it

[i] Do they feel you have managed to pass it on to them?

[r] Yes, especially the oldest one, very much so, but we eat when we can, we eat Zighinì, we also like African cuisine, Africa is always present, also because I don’t know how to tell you, I have never broken off contact with the people, even with the people who came with me from there Africa ok there’s a lady I don’t want to say her name out of respect but she’s a wonderful woman a mum she came with us she lives in Turin too for me that lady is almost like my mum I adore her I don’t go to see him I’m ashamed sometimes I go but he’s always in my heart and so I want to say I always have this bond I always had it I never broke it

[i] So you continued in some way

[r] To maintain contacts and relationships

[i] To start with the community yes without participating with the community however I have always had good relations with people whoever I meet not only Eritreans or Ethiopians everyone especially African people normally if you see a person in the street maybe that’s a natural thing if I see you or someone else maybe I might think you’re Somali Eritrean Ethiopian it’s normal that you feel like looking at them no instinct and maybe there’s always the hint of a greeting even if it’s just like that, but if they greet you it’s nice and then there are some people who don’t want to or don’t care, that’s OK too

[i] Are you looking forward to going back to Eritrea?

[r] I’ve only been there twice and I’d like to go back maybe and now to go to Adess Ebeba to see the changes again because there have been many changes

[i] Now there is peace between Eritrea and Ethiopia

[r] Well, I’m glad

[i] What do you think?

[r] I’m in favour of it, as I said before, I think that it’s only natural for people to be united, Ethiopia and Eritrea can’t be divided, in my opinion not even Somalia, but for me it’s yes

[i] What do you think this peace will bring, what do you expect it to bring?

[r] First of all, that families are reunited. I believe this is fundamental because after years of families being separated, I think it has been a great suffering. Maybe a husband in Ethiopia and a wife in Eritrea is not something that pleases anyone, and I think that together they can do great things. In my opinion, they have a bright future, but they mustn’t get too carried away because I still think that the initiatives are excellent I’m waiting for things to happen too maybe work without everyone leaving I hope they can also enter their country even from Europe from abroad abroad too many young people who have studied instead of travelling around the world can do something good for their country in my opinion they will return if the situation changes if everything goes well then they can do great things also because now they have studied and therefore they are more technologically more advanced mentally more open and of course they can do important structural things and also humanly we have understood what it means to leave your country to live away from home so I think that it’s one of the most difficult experiences maybe alone maybe how many have died crossing from Canada how many people all these are things that shock you how many people have died at sea? I think that those who return do so to do good things

[i] Let me ask you a question, you’ve touched on a very current topic, the kids who leave and who arrive here, based on your personal experience as a teacher, why did you have to leave Eritrea by force on a ship, and paradoxically

[r] Not by force though. It was a nice ship

[i] By force in the sense that it wasn’t a desired journey, it was a journey, let’s say

[r] Of a situation of circumstances

[i] And paradoxically you arrived in the south of Italy and today the same thing is happening in a very different form in some way, how do you see these kids these people who arrive by ship?

[r] I feel bad, very bad, very very bad. At least when we came, you had a place to go, to stay. Now the kids are under tents, they’ve put us in barracks, but there was stuff there, we were in the refugee camps, but anyway there were blankets, we didn’t die of cold or hunger. Here I see that many have lived in tents outside the cities even in winter and they are left there to fend for themselves I don’t think this situation is a good one I think that starting from there with the hope of finding something better is not a good idea on the contrary I think that if they find themselves in a worse situation I respect those who live there because I don’t find anything ready to welcome me here apart from maybe later there are the associations thank goodness there are the associations thank goodness they exist they give these guys support but I I think that these young people, I don’t know how good the situation is now, but they are a bit left to their own devices, aren’t they? They do a lot of courses, if they are educated, they do Italian courses, they go to school

[i] But humanly, humanly they seem a bit abandoned to themselves, you know, if you can’t work during the day, what do you do? Idling about. What do you see them doing, those with headphones listening to music? I know that with time they may not be able to work anymore and then there is no work there isn’t one and what do they do for a living once the period of the association that takes care of them is over? apart from the tents, for me, humanly speaking, it shouldn’t even exist. ok, apart from this, but also the second step is the associations that take care of them and in my opinion they are fine with the associations because they have food to eat and clothes to wear, they have the essential things, maybe the possibility to go to school too, those who want to go to university can go in this sense it’s fine, but once the programme is over, what happens to these kids? those who stay here are left to fend for themselves, there isn’t a continuous line that leads to work and after that, what happens? university can go in this direction it’s fine but once they’ve finished what happens to these kids, those who stay here are left to fend for themselves there’s no continuous line that leads you to work and then what happens? Excuse me, once you’re out, you’re on your own. The association no longer protects you. There’s no one. What do you do? If you can’t find a job, because there are none, well, whoever wants to work will find it. You can still end up picking tomatoes or doing these kinds of things. But there are many engineers too, and even those go to do these jobs just to work, but there’s there’s not enough for everyone in my opinion the situation is terrible right now it’s better to stay where you are than to leave to try and improve because nothing improves for me it’s like this but instead once you were welcomed they gave you some solutions they give it to you then afterwards it’s clear that you have to roll up your sleeves if you want to work but understand that since there is no work why are they forced to stay here? I don’t understand that, because they come here, they have to stay here. If I come here to a place but I want to go to America, why can’t I go? I want to leave. It seems to me that I can’t leave. I think it’s a human right, it’s legitimate. If I don’t want to be in a place, I can’t leave because they force me to stay in Europe or in Italy. Maybe if I don’t want to be there anymore, can I leave? Can I leave or not? Maybe I have a relative over there, maybe I can find work. I don’t agree with these things, OK?

[i] Thank you very much