Festa per les donne

It was the International Day for Women last Sunday, and as I was taking someone to the airport, I got a call to invite me to the celebration at Agape that evening. I was told to bring my appetite!

It was once again a great celebration, this time with only one staff member. As people gathered around the table, before the food was to be served, there was toast after toast (all in Sicilian) from the man at the left who took on the job of toastmaster. As in tradition, all the toasts rhymed. I only wish I could have understood them all. I did feel honored after several toasts to the women, he first toasted Gianni Fisco, who teaches ceramics on a volunteer basis, and then toasted me, even though I just sort of hang around some times.

Food was ordered from outside, so at least the women did not have to cook. They did, of course, have to make the plates and take them to the men before they could sit and enjoy their meals.

The clients were there, enjoying each other's company on a day when they did not often get to see each other. The families were together talking about life in general, the men in one area and the women in another area. The meal was wonderful, starting of course with home made olives and wine and bread, and then there was a lasagna with meat sauce, huge plates of chicken and potatoes, melon, oranges, and mandarino, followed by far too many dolces. There was a little bit of music and dancing for those who could still move, and then the men each presented their wives with flowers. I was ordered to take pictures of each couple, often to the shouts of Baco, Baco, asking the couples to kiss for the pictures, which they did with some embarrassment.


















Another wonderful evening with my Sicilian sized family in Sciacca.

Thoughts on Language

One of the things I still want to do here is to learn more Sicilian. It is not easy, because in normal conversation on the street, or in homes, and with friends who know I can understand most Italian, I hear only the occasional Sicilian word. True, when Paolo and Ignatzia are talking, they often revert to Sicilian, however that is not all that often. And there are reasons for this.

When Mussolini wanted to unite Italy even more, he knew that one way of doing so was to unite them in language. Regional dialects were banned from the schools and the airwaves. Only 'Italian' was allowed, and 'Italian' according to Mussolini was the dialect of Florence as spoken by people in Rome. And of course Mussolini had a point. If the people shared a common language, they would feel a stronger common bond. Place names were changed. Grigento became Agrigento, and Vigata became Porto Empodecles. Xacca became Sciacca. Everything was Italianized.

It even became a minor crime to speak dialect in the streets, so that people who spoke Sicilian or Sarda or Calabrese or Nepolitano in their village square might have to pay a fine. Dialect became the language of the dinner table at home, but not the language of shopping. Indeed, one young friend referred to someone who was speaking Sicilian loudly in public as being 'ignorant', that is not knowing that they should be speaking Italian in public. Indeed, up until now there has only been one person who has actively tried to teach me some Sicilian, my summer neighbor Angelo.

And by the way, all of the dialects are dialects, but not dialects of Italian. They are dialects of Latin, in the same way that Italian, French and Spanish are. In Sicilian, the Italian words lui, lei, and loro become Idu, Ida, and Idi. (He, She and They). The Sicilian anchovy becomes the Italian acciuga.

What this means today is that there is a definite sign of acceptance if during a gathering, people openly speak Sicilian with you. I am humbled and yet proud to say that I felt very much accepted at the Agape Festa for the women when Sicilian was the language of choice about seventy percent of the time, and when I could not understand a word, the idea was then explained to me in Italian. Thank you for making me a part of your extended family in that way.

Rainbows

Not much to say on this one.

Television

I got a call from Jacque, a friend at Sigonella. There was a cinematographer from another base in the north who wanted to shoot some footage in my area. She wanted to know if I would be available to show him around a bit.

What a wonderful time. Robert Sekula works as a civilian for the Department of Defense Armed Forces Network, which broadcasts American TV to DOD personnel around the world, and also does a bit of its own programming. I was thrilled that they wanted to do some shooting on this side of the island.

On a wet and miserable day, I met Robert near the highway, and after talking with him for a few minutes, we headed off to earthquake territory. Even though the earthquake museum in Santa Margherita was closed, he was able to get some great shots of the reconstruction work they were doing there. Then it was off to Poggioreale, where we walked through the ruins.

As I held the umbrella over the camera to keep it dry, he found incredible shot after incredible shot. At one point I was able to look down at his viewfinder, and his ability to frame shots was spectacular. Bravo.

After the earthquakes, and a great lunch, we went to a small family run winery just around the corner from my apartment (DeGregorio) and I translated as he interviewed the owner and his two children about their passion for wine, and their love of the land. The owner is a full time doctor in Palermo, as is his wife, and his two children are both going to medical school. They are also excited about working with the vines each year, and helping to produce several types of red and white wine.

Robert spent the night in my space bedroom, and after he left the next day, I sent him a long list of other possible featurettes he could do on this side of the island. I expect one day he will be back, and for several days, as he works to produce some more information about a part of the island that does not see as many tourists as perhaps it should.

Thanks, Robert, for giving us a bit of publicity. It was great meeting you.

Calcio weekend

Last weekend was soccer weekend for me. Three matches to watch. Oh my. One can have too much of a good thing.

Anyway, the first was in Sambuca, with Sambuca de Sicilia playing against Contessa Enitella, a nearby rival. It was a game for young adults, much like many of the slow pitch games one sees in the states. However, there were some significant differences. The game was played as part of the league system of soccer in Italy, and of course for these two small towns, the league was pretty low. Although nominally a dilletante league, the players, or at least some of the players, were payed up to five euros per game. Not enough to buy a Ferrari, but still, professional is some way. I chose to watch this game because Salvatore, the assistant baker at the Paneficio Americano where I get my bread was one of the players for Sambuca. Later I learned that the son of the assistant manager at Mail Boxes Etc, where I rent a postal box, was playing for Contessa.

There was another startling difference between these matches and the slow pitch (or even fast pitch) softball games, or broom ball games, or hockey games, bowling leagues, city rec basketball, or whatever other sports are the norm in the US. The beer cooler was absent. Indeed, the cold water that was on hand was mostly for pouring on the players when they were injured. I later found out that after the games, most of the players just went home, instead of going to the sponsoring tavern to celebrate their win or drown the sorrows of another loss.

Sambuca ended up winning the match, 2-1, although I left at half time so I could listen to NPR's wait wait don't tell me on the computer. One must keep one's priorities straight.


Sunday morning, I met my friend Fabrizio at 8:00 AM in front of his house. We drove his son Sergio to Villafranca, about forty five minutes away, so that Sergio could be the referee (arbitro) for a match between Villafranca and Ribera. Actually, the match was between the soccer schools of the two towns, so there was not really any question that beer would not be available there. We had watched Sergio referee a game between Santa Margherita and Ribera earlier this year, so some of the players were known to me.

What I really noticed in this game, aside from the beauty of the almond trees in full blossom, was the difference in size between the two teams. Many of the Villafranca players, well, at least three of them, must have been half a meter shorter than most of the players on the Ribera side.

Of course Sergio again refereed a great game. Villafranca was vastly outgunned, their goalie was really too small for the job, and Ribera won the match 11-2. There were some good plays, and the Ribera coach this time pretty much behaved himself, and at the end of the match, once again, instead of going together for some sort of celebration, the players either walked or were picked up by parents to go home and do something without the team.

I did remember what it was like to be involved in such sports, and be one of the two players on the bench for the losing team. It was interesting to me that when they got to play, the players for whom they went into the game for left the soccer pitch. I would have thought they would stay to cheer on their mates. Oh well.

Finally, to cap off the weekend of soccer, after going to Fabrizio's house and eating a wonderful pranzo prepared by Gabriella, his wife, a few other friends came over to watch the Palermo-Catania match. This was to be a hotly contested match, as Palermo needed at least a tie to stay in the running for UEFA cup next year, and with Catania also being a team from Sicily, it was considered a derby match, like when Milan plays Inter (both based in Milan), or when Juve plays Torino, or when the Cubs play the White Sox.

Important or not, the score was a dismal 0-4 at the end. Not Palermo's best effort. To underscore the difference between fandom here and in the states, you will notice in the picture below that none of us is drinking or snacking during the game. I am actually used to that now, but it seemed strange the first few times I watched a match with friends.