‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Just look.’
Don Pino rummages around for something in his pocket and he pulls out some rosary beads.
‘What is it? A necklace?’
‘Yes, it was my mother’s and I always have it with me and I talk with her.’
‘And she answers you?’
‘Yes, she does, of course.’
‘What does she say?’
‘She tells me not to be afraid. She is always with me.’
‘Well, then, I’ll keep my doll. And that way, my dad can talk to me.’
‘Yes, I think that would be best.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Don Pino.’
‘Donpino? What kind of name is that? That’s a strange name for someone.’ The child smiles. ‘You know, Donpino, you know that my doll’s eyes are always open?’ She shows him the doll’s wide-open blue eyes.
‘That way she can watch over you. What’s her name?’
‘Doll.’
‘That’s a fine name.’
A rosary litany fills one’s grief with cadenced words, like the waves of an undertow.
Tower of David, pray for us.
Gate of Heaven, pray for us.
Morning star, pray for us.
Refuge of sinners, pray for us.
Queen of peace, pray for us.
Amen, Amen. So be it.
The child falls asleep in Don Pino’s arms as he strokes her hair. Seeing death up close is like death itself. It’s not the opposite of life but it is life’s absence. Life always has life within it, even when it seems to be death, just like a caterpillar’s cocoon. But death has nothing within it. It’s not the fruit of a painful metamorphosis. And men gave the name of God to the negation of death so that there would be someone greater than death.
Chapter 42
The lights have been dimmed in the building’s stairwells and the neon glows complacently. Three men form the armed shadow of the night, the night of June 29, and they carry with them the fire with which cities were conquered in the epic poems. Then they split up to enter three different buildings in the same complex. The Turk. The Hunter. Nuccio. They are warriors in a war without enemies.
It’s a war that has been declared on three fathers whose only weapon is their hard-headedness. Three family men determined to get what Brancaccio is missing: Proper plumbing, a middle school, a park. They are the founders of their complex’s homeowners’ association. And one by one, they have recruited persons willing to work to lobby politicians and Mafiosi, not to obtain any type of privilege, but simply that which they are owed in the name of naked human dignity, without yielding to the clandestine power of the Mafia. They are the ones who have decided to break apart the logic of the oppressed and their oppressors, a logic that regulates the forces of the neighborhood. They’ve even reached out to the President of the Italian Republic with their letters. They’ve managed to get people to pay attention to their call for the construction of a plumbing system. They are evidence of the fact that when someone in Palermo decides to do something, he will die. But they continue to get people to pay attention to them by being the squeaky wheel.
Hard heads are made out of wood, and you burn them with fire. You can hear the gasoline swishing around in the can and it’s the only noise that accompanies Nuccio’s burning gait. His religion has a single commandment: Mother Nature’s approval. There is money. There are women. And there is respect. And this is what needs to be done, just as the Hunter has taught him. He’s standing in front of one of the three doors that they need to light up.
Fifth floor. ‘Martinez’ is written on the doorbell. ‘Di Guida,’ fifth floor. ‘Romano,’ eighth floor. The timing will make the fireworks all the more spectacular.
He douses the doormat with gas as the silence permeates the sleep of those who work by day. The fire releases itself from the wood and flares up along the walls that need to be eliminated. Now they’ll think twice before they work with that priest. Burning around Don Pino. The local politicians have complained: You can’t even manage to keep everyday people under control, let alone priests and workers. It’s not as if they are the police!
This is why these doors need to go up in smoke. This is why they torched a van that belonged to a company that was helping to repair the church. The smell of burning wood, the smell of burning car paint, of burning carpets, of car tires: Those smells are always better than the acrid, slightly sweet smell of burning flesh.
This is how one man sucks out the soul of another man in a city where people suck on snails after boiling them in salt-lined pots. They do it that way so that the snails can’t escape as they try to save themselves from the heat when not even their homes feel secure anymore.
That’s how you buy silence: With fire that subjugates the heart as it squeezes it. It forces people to divert their eyes to the ground and turns their brains into nonsense. That night the children try asking, but no one can offer a proper explanation of what has happened.
And a father needs to care more about his family than about the truth.
But those three – Martinez, Di Guida, and Romano – are different. That is to say, they are normal. And even though people accuse them of making the neighborhood look bad with their homeowners’ association, they are reporting a sordid crime with their letters and their requests. Despite the anonymous phone calls on the evenings that follow, in which a woman’s voice comes on and cries ‘Help, help!’ and then the sound of glasses clinking and a terrible raucous voice can be heard, they continue to report and to speak out and to write.
Despite the fire and the barking of the pack, they vindicate a centuries-old code of silence with their words.
They are heroes in an everyday epic.
Chapter 43
What you are about to hear
Is the tale of heroes and damsels,
A thousand adventures they had to face
Often terrible, often beautiful
And I, the storyteller, want to tell you
The most beautiful one of all.
Lend me your imagination and your ears,
Children, men, women, young and old.
Totò is wearing a stocking-shaped hat and he shakes a wooden sword in time with the words he is saying. His role is that of the cuntastori, the storyteller. He’s learned the first lines by heart. It’s the story that Lucia wants the children to hear.
Lucia’s dream is to work in the theater. And together with Don Pino, she has decided to stage a story from the tales of Charlemagne using Sicilian puppets, knights in the form of marionettes. The children will be the puppets. After all, the word pupo or ‘puppet’ in Sicilian dialect originally meant ‘child.’
Lucia is a natural director. She is capable of intuiting the best part for each actor. She comes up with plots. She writes dialogue. She fashions costumes. It’s like a seed of beauty that she stores up during the winter of the heart for those kids. And with the thawing, it begins to bear its fruit. She has involved mothers, grandmothers, and even a father or two. Everyone will help as much as they are able.
The show is called Little Orlando Sets Out to Conquer the City, and it tells a traditional story from the ‘Tale of Tales’ about the brave young Orlando’s childhood.
Orlando was born in the woods with only his mother to care for him and without even knowing his father, who was killed in battle. Even as a child, he displayed cunning and remarkable strength. He had no books to study and so he learned everything by exploring the woods with his faithful friend Virticchiu, who would later become his squire.
Little Orlando has no idea that he is the product of forbidden love. His mother is Charlemagne’s sister. After falling in love with a common man, she had to flee to Paris, where she went into hiding.
One day, Little Orlando meets a caravan of travelers in the woods. They are heading toward the city, where they plan to attend a joust for aspiring knights from every walk of life: Nobles and paupers,
vagabonds and mercenaries, adventurers and outcasts.
They are all young and eager, just like him. Charlemagne wants to take Little Orlando with him to court. And as he gathers information on Orlando, he discovers the truth: Little Orlando is his nephew. Charlemagne’s noble confidant, Ganelon, fearful that he will fall out of favor with his king, decides to eliminate the young heir. But Little Orlando, aided by Pipino the wizard and the friends he’s made at the joust, will try to reveal Ganelon’s true intentions and his plans to eliminate even Charlemagne himself and take his throne.
Lucia has adapted the story and the text and every week they hold rehearsals at the Holy Father Center. She has to manage fifteen or so boys and girls. Francesco is going to play the part of Little Orlando. The part of Virticchiu will be played by Calogero, Nuccio’s little brother. Then there are the ladies-in-waiting, including the girl with the baby doll who only recently joined the troupe. Riccardo is Ganelon and Don Pino himself will wear the good wizard Pipino’s beard, even though he doesn’t know it yet. Lucia will play the part of Little Orlando’s mother.
They are still missing a Charlemagne.
The armor and shields are made out of cardboard. The skirts are emerald green and the bodices are made from blue fabric. The tin helmets have fake plumes. And in the minds of the children from Brancaccio, the plastic tiaras sparkle like tempered steel and handmade brocade.
‘Can you imagine Don Pino’s face when he finds out that he needs to wear Merlin’s beard and hat?’ Francesco says as he hangs on Lucia’s arm.
She’s trying to sew a decoration onto one of the costumes.
‘He’s going to have a great time. It will be a birthday he’ll never forget.’
They’ve decided to debut their show on September 15 as a surprise.
‘But do you think he’ll be able to recite his lines from memory?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. It will be a surprise.’
Mum’s the word, she gestures, drawing her finger to her lips.
‘The only problem is whether or not he will arrive on time.’
The children arrange themselves in a circle, each a meter from the other. Totò begins proudly to wave his sword and declares:
Ganelon’s sword is no match
For the brave Little Orlando’s skill.
Strength without smarts is the catch,
Defeat the brave child it never will.
He and his friends a plan will hatch,
With Pipino’s help they’re stronger still.
So get yourselves ready for any surprise:
Who will lose and who will take the price?
‘ “The prize,” Totò! “The prize.” Not “the price”!’
‘I don’t know why I always get that one wrong. And besides, I’m getting hungry!’
‘You’ll be fine, Totò. Just try to remember: The “prize” is what the winner takes when he wins. It’s the opposite of “defeat.” ’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll try to remember.’
The children form a circle around Ganelon. He’s dressed completely in black and he’s wearing crow feathers. He’s trapped and he doesn’t know which one to attack because every time he tries to move, the circle closes in around him like an octopus and someone hits him on the shoulders. Then someone trips him and pushes him over before hitting him on the head.
‘Give up! I am Charlemagne’s nephew. And someday this realm will be my own.’
‘You damn kids. Do you think you are a match for a man armed with a sword? I’ll slice you up like a cantaloupe!’
‘The knight seems nervous. Maybe he needs some chamomile tea,’ sings Virticchiu.
‘No, he just needs some fresh air. He’s suffocating in that armor,’ says Little Orlando.
And then he pulls Ganelon’s pants down. Everyone laughs as he is forced to take tiny little steps, as if he were a cockroach. And everyone can see his red underpants.
Little Orlando seizes the opportunity to land a blow on Ganelon’s head.
‘The best things come in small packages,’ says one of kids.
‘And dripping water hollows out the stone,’ declares another.
‘Everything big starts little.’
The traitor falls to the ground and they all pounce on him.
‘The city is ours!’
‘Hurray, hurray, hurray!’
The children celebrate by dancing around the vanquished Ganelon as they sing in unison.
Lucia encourages them by mimicking their movements on the stage.
And to finish the scene, they raise their hands to the sky and shout joyously. This is followed by a moment of silence so that the audience can get its bearings.
Like a river that arrives from far away and empties into the sea, the magic of the story has captured the hearts and minds of the children. And they are emboldened by this fantastic tale. If you don’t have a great story to pass down from father to son, then you will always be at the mercy of those in power and their frivolous storylines. Only those who belong to a story can invent their own, just like the flowers of an almond tree that tell the story of spring.
I laugh and applaud from the corner of the room. I always manage to find a corner where I can see but not be seen. I always like being tucked away in a corner.
Lucia turns around.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I heard you need a Charlemagne.’
She smiles and the children start clapping.
‘That means you’re going to be spending a lot of time here. There’s a lot of work to be done.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes, it is. I’m the director and if you want to be in the show, you need to follow the rules. Just like everyone else.’
I bow my head as a sign of obedience without uttering a word . . . even though I’m the king.
Chapter 44
Don Pino is more serious than usual during Sunday Mass. The children sitting in the front pews notice, and it’s making them nervous. Francesco is there. And so are Dario, Totò, Salvatore, Riccardo, and Lucia and her siblings. Gemma is sitting behind them with her husband and Signor Mario is sitting in his wheelchair. The fathers whose doors were burned down are there. Mimmo, the policeman, is there. The nuns that help Don Pino are there.
And the wolves from the pack are there as well. They’re there to mark their territory. They’re there to protect it from unwelcome trespassers.
‘Do you know what my favorite passage from the Bible is, children?’
A chorus of ‘no’ slices through the sweaty air.
‘The Beatitudes. It’s the one that explains happiness. And this ingredient in particular: “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.”
‘We’re not talking about being satisfied by justice for men. Our justice is often unjust. Nor can someone be happy just because he experiences hunger and thirst for something that cannot be achieved.
‘Happiness lies in being filled and not in dying of thirst or hunger. The justice we are talking about is the promise that God has made to man. And that promise is that His strength will always prevail, that love will always have the last word, even when violence appears poised to suffocate it. It’s a strange type of justice: It moves through the world in silence, hidden but unstoppable, just like a fugitive who never gets caught. We will be filled because He will do the things that we cannot arrive at ourselves.
‘But we are asked to open the door of our lives to allow this justice to enter into the streets where we move. So that we ourselves may become God’s promise and that it may be fulfilled. We are His justice. We will relieve the hunger and fill others if we answer God’s call.
‘There are two questions that God asks man. The first is directed to Adam when he hides after having committed a sin. “Where are you?” God asks us why we are hiding. And we are ashamed of the evil we have done and so we go into hiding.
‘We don’t allow God’s mercy to find us.
We think that He wants to punish us. We think that we don’t deserve His love. But that’s exactly what He wants to give us. For free.’
Don Pino stops speaking and points to the wooden cross. And then begins again.
‘The second question is the one He asks Abel: “Where is your brother?” And Abel answers, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Yes, you are. Every one of us is the keeper of those around us, whether a relative, a friend, a coworker, or a neighbor. They need us and we need them, since God does all He can to make us love more and to be loved more. Today, these are the two questions that God asks us: “Where are you?” and “Where is your brother?”
‘And how do we answer Him? In a neighborhood where there is no middle school, no public park, and no place for children to play? It’s only normal that you will continue to want these things and ask for them. God asks man to fulfill his own will. He doesn’t perform miracles where man can make his own miracles by means of his daily toil. But there are those of us who don’t want men to live in a dignified manner. And I don’t understand why. And I ask such people to come here. Let’s talk about it. Face to face. Let’s discuss what’s going on. You are the sons and daughters of this church. And I await you. Let’s meet in the piazza. I was born here and grew up in this neighborhood and I am tired of seeing babies and children in the streets. We can make a new start of it.’
He watches the congregation with a serious look on his face.
Nuccio’s nostrils flare and his mouth feels so full of teeth that he can’t help but smirk. The children are restless because they can’t understand what Don Pino is talking about. He seems angry and it’s hard for them to follow his sermon.
Then the priest offers the congregation bread and wine and with the Communion, he also offers every fiber in his body. He watches the children and is reminded of the words of St John in the Apocalypse: ‘Behold, I make all things new.’ Evil may shout more loudly but a silent spring will nurture those buds and help them along. All it takes is one drop of God’s blood to save the entire world, let alone a neighborhood in Palermo.
What Hell Is Not Page 16
