Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

by Stefano Pastor

  «What does it do?», a girl asked.

  «I told you, it frees the man by evil».

  «Which evil?», another asked.

  The situation degenerated, I had to intervene.

  But I didn’t move. The last one to speak was Silvia. Strange this as even she never talked. She tried to hide, to cancel herself, to not exist. A bad birthmark defaced her face and she could not get over it. I tried to help her but it was useless.

  «The Evil is the evil», you said. «It’s everywhere».

  You did not know what to reply, indeed. She stepped forward and she comply another strange action: she took off her craft which she used to cover her face. The birthmark came to light, red as wine. «Is this evil?», she asked to you.

  Yes, I had to intervene, but you got there before me. «I think it is», it was your answer.

  «Could it take it away?», she asked.

  You were unsure, fearful, maybe sorry to have talked too much. «I don’t know, I have never done it. We need to believe in it for real though».

  «I believe in it», Silvia said.

  You were not sure. «We need to believe in Allah», you said. «He is the one who could make a miracle».

  We pushed ourselves a bit too far, I shouldn’t have let that. I intervened. «Allah doesn’t make miracles, just God has got this power».

  I said a heresy, your eyes were open wide, similar to the ones of a fawn. «In the name of Allah Mahomet moved the mountains!».

  You were disturbed and I smiled. I went ahead because I did not really want to involve myself into a discussion about theology with a kid. «Come on folks. The break is over, get back to the class».

  Silvia did not give up. «How do I do?», it was her worry.

  You told her what to do, I do not know when. After school, maybe, far from my vision. However, when Silvia got back in class the day after, the scarf disappeared and so the birthmark. Silvia were beautiful, radiant, almost perfect. She smiled to everyone, but especially to you. There was veneration into her eyes.

  I made a mistake, I chose not to see. I knew what her answer would be if I was to ask what happened to her. I didn’t believe in miracles, especially the ones that were carried out by a little stone that was picked up on the streets, if there was an explanation they wouldn’t have never given me one. I didn’t want the irrational to break into my life.

  I kept on teach and I ignored each problem.

  During the break, you were surrounded by all of the class. You seemed to be in heaven, telling you fairy tale as a modern saviour. You kept saying what they taught you. And your classmates believed you, for real.

  That absurdity had to come to an end. I pushed towards you but again, someone was there before me. Marco, the silent one, babe in the woods of the back line of desks, the one who never talked, that never followed the lesson, lost in his world, stepped forward. He was limping.

  It was two years. A bad fall from the bicycle. Some days it got worse, he could not even walk. Not in that moment, he dragged the foot a bit. He spoke that day. «Can you take it away from me as well?», he asked to you.

  Strong for the success you had with Silvia, you nodded. It was late, too late, I could not get there on time.

  When you took the stone I caught your hand.

  «Don’t do it!», I said.

  I won’t never forget you petrified eyes. «You won’t take it away from me!», you implored me. «Don’t do it!».

  I should have done it instead, even if I didn’t even think about it. It should have been better. I let you go. «Put it way though. These things are not to be done in school, I can’t stand this». Then I said: «And stop talking about religion».

  It was a mistake of Biblical proportions.

  The day after, Marco no longer limped. He was smiling and speaking as well, with everyone. My class changed, the eyes of everyone weren’t on me anymore. You eclipsed me.

  During the break I did not spy on your exploits, I chose to go and talk to the director. Simona had been there for her entire life, maybe even before the building was built. I got to the point right away with her.

  «We got a problem», I said.

  She tilted her glasses for a better vision.

  «One of my pupils is making proselytes», I said to her.

  «Proselytes?», she said in perplexity. «What do you mean?», she asked.

  «He is a missionary, he is preaching».

  She burst in laughs. «What class have you got this year, the fourth? Even preaching!».

  «He does a little more», I said. «Performs miracles».

  She was about to choke. «Did you say Miracles? A kid?».

  She did not quite get the gravity of the situation.

  «He converted all of the class».

  «Converted… to what?».

  «Islamism. Now everyone prays for Allah».

  She didn’t laugh that time. She frowned. «Are you serious?».

  And again. «In my class there are pupils of 7 different faiths, but now they all pray for Allah».

  «Christians as well?».

  «Especially the Christians».

  She nodded. «Something like this had never ever happened to me… it is incredible. And you?».

  «Me? I came to you just because I don’t know what to do».

  «Do you pray for Allah?», she said.

  «I do not believe in God», I said. «Any».

  She sighed. «Tell me exactly how things actually are».

  I did it.

  Maybe I overstated the situation, and as regards that, I was a very good prophet. The next morning, the whole class started praying with you, and all of them did it in belief. I watched, even more surprised. You were on your knees, in the courtyard, you seemed to be in ecstasy.

  «You are right», Simona said, appearing from a side and making me wince.

  «What do I need to do?», I asked.

  She was an old fox. «It is better not to mess with religions, that might cause trouble».

  «We are in trouble. Hoping that they didn’t talk about it at home».

  The fact that Silvia’s birthmark and Marco no longer limped couldn’t go unnoticed.

  «Do you believe in miracles?», I asked to her, given that she always said to be a strong catholic person.

  «Oh come on!», she snapped.

  Next day, I ordered you to remain in class, during break. It was not a punishment even though you saw that like it was. I had to know, I had to understand.

  «Tell me about the stone», I asked.

  «Do you want to take it away from me?».

  It was all you had, no toys. It was all for you. Your family was poor but they gave their most precious good to you.

  «I don’t want to take anything away from you, tell me what it is».

  You took it and put it on the desk. It was so small and useless. «My grandfather gave it to me».

  «Why?».

  «To maintain it».

  «Does he know you bring it in school».

  Your tilt your eyes down. He didn’t know.

  «It was really that important as you say, do you think he would give it to a kid?».

  An instant of uncertainty.

  «My father was not good enough, grandfather always said it, he chose me because of this. He is really old, he is afraid not to live for a long time yet. I have to maintain it now».

  «And he made you believe in the fact that it is a fragment of the meteor».

  «It is not a meteor: it is the eye of an angel. Allah sent it to us to save us».

  I sighed. «Whatever it is, you know that it is not real. This can’t be…».

  «Our family have been taking care of it for a long time. Centuries, my grandfather says».

  The problem was there: it was your grandfather I had to speak with to stop that story going on. It was sad to take the illusion away, but necessary.

  You reached out and the stone rolled towards me. «Do you want it?», you asked to me.

 
; I could not understand the question. «I told you…».

  «To take the evil away. Even you want to want the evil to go away maybe!».

  I won’t never forget that sensation. It was like you read my mind, removing each door, put under the spotlight my secrets. I could speak. «I don’t need it».

  You smiled. «It is not important. I can let you have it. You may to give it back tomorrow morning».

  I couldn’t say anything, I took it. It was just a stone, neither cold nor hot. A stone.

  «What do I need to do?», I missed.

  It was obvious for you. «Praying».

  I was holding it into my hand, but I could not pray.

  «Do you take it to bed with you?», Aldo asked to me.

  It was a pupil’s present, I told him, my husband could not understand.

  Praying. I was not able to.

  Praying who, Allah? I did not know that god, I had never appreciated. As a woman, I could not comprehend it.

  Praying for what?

  What an absurdity.

  I gave it back to you the day after, without letting others see me.

  «I am not able», I told you.

  You smiled. «The evil was not there anymore. You are different, it is clear».

  You saw it, just you. The pain was still there, it did not disappear. I didn’t pray.

  «It’s better this way», I told you. «Now get back to your seat, the lesson is about to start».

  After a few hours, there would be a tragedy, but I could not know it. I was part of the cause or maybe not. We can’t beat some things. It is religion.

  You were shining, that day, with your strange tunic and eternal smile. You were jumping around the class, talking to everyone. Those kids adored you.

  It was a fantastic lesson. The last one.

  I didn’t know what happened to you until two days later. You had not come to school for two days in a row. I felt bad, it never happened to me. Never with one of my pupils. Why? Holiday or love? It was what I felt about you, was I loving you already?

  The second day I was hysterical and I was shouting without any reason, I tormented those poor kids who were worried as much as me. When I was called by the director, I understood that something bad happened. To you.

  Simona went straight in for it. «Aziz was attacked».

  I fell down on a chair, without being able to talk. Simona smiled to me. «Don’t worry, they haven’t done anything to him, the child is actually good».

  I tried to think. «Attacked how? From who? Why didn’t he get back to school?».

  «Two men, he said, but he could not describe them. It is easy to understand who it was. They didn’t do anything to him but he’s a bit shocked. I talked to the father, he said he does not want to get out of his room».

  I did not feel calm. «Why are you sure to know who it was?».

  «Come on! You know it as well! After what the kid did all of this was predictable».

  I kept on being confused. «What did he do?».

  She tilted the eyes towards the sky. «You told me he was converting the whole class! Don’t you believe the kids talked about it at home?».

  My world fell apart. «Were the parents of the other pupils?».

  «It is possible, don’t you reckon? Parents or big brothers. There’s always some hothead».

  «What did they do to him, how is he?».

  «He is good, I told you. They didn’t do anything to him».

  «What did they tell him then. Did they threaten him?».

  «Are you hiding something from me?».

  «Definitely not».

  «You are hiding something».

  Beating around the bush was useless, I had to say it. «They took the stone away from him».

  I took the decision instantly and leaped up.

  «We got to discover who they are, they need to give it back. It’s his stone».

  «I am afraid it is not possible», Simona said.

  «The stone is not here anymore. They had a hammer, they destroyed it. In front of his eyes».

  I fainted. Then I was not able to get on with the lesson. And especially, facing my pupils. I went home.

  I didn’t come to you, even if I should have. I didn’t feel like to. I am sorry Aziz, but in that moment you were the centre of my thoughts. The stone was the heart of my world, that stone was not there anymore. The stone I refused, that maybe it could have cured me, if I was able to pray.

  It was too late, if it was able to do miracles or not was not important anymore. I was not able to understand, I lost the occasion.

  I went through a hell of a night and even Aldo got worried. The morning after I was more lucid, I was able to understand my errors. I decided to come to you because your pain must have been way greater than mine for sure. I called in sick and did not go to school.

  You were living in a basement, in the outskirts. An old house, falling apart. Your family was large, too large. You had to brothers, both older than you. Two unmarried aunts were living with you as well. They did not let themselves to be seen: once locked up in the kitchen, the women just know how to cry. Your father opened the door.

  I should have covered my head but I didn’t even have a scarf on me. It was too late. I asked to you.

  It was a big man, but weak. Defeated by the world. He was that intelligent and he never learned our language. He accepted my help, even though I was a woman, he said you locked yourself up in your room and you refused to eat as well. He did not know what to do anymore.

  There was anger in me, for what they had done to you, and not only against the men who attacked you but against your family as well that filled you up with superstition. I managed to see you.

  Your room was the smallest one, almost a closet, there was not any space to move around. You were in your bed, like an ill person, and you were holding tight your bed sheet.

  «He is not feeling good», I said. «He has got the fever, we need to do something».

  You had not the fever, even if you did not feel good.

  I was happy about you being there, but you were not talking. I tried to explain to you, to defuse the situation, even if it was impossible to explain the violence made to a kid.

  You did not care, you just had one thing in mind and in the end you told it to me, all in one. «I am cursed. Allah cursed me!».

  No one else heard that. You really believed in it, trying to make you feel better was useless. The fact that was me doing it was useless, particularly. So I asked to speak with you grandfather. In the end, he was the cause of any bad thing.

  You were right, it was an old man, a very old man, almost decrepit, dark skin tone and really white hair. Creped skin of thousands wrinkles. Seasoned leather.

  He did not know Italian. It was necessary calling one of the daughters to translate. One woman of my age, that hid the face and of which I could only see the black eyes.

  I asked you to help you, to help your nephew, because that was the only thing I cared about.

  «He can not do anything», said the woman. «Aziz is in the hands of Allah».

  «Aziz is convinced that he is cursed», I said to her. «He is desperate».

  She translated. «Allah is merciful, but for some sins there is no forgiveness».

  I held back on shouting. «It is not Aziz fault, they attacked him!».

  The old man spoke for a long time and the woman said again. «He chose Aziz between all of his nephews, because he was sure about the fact that he was the right one. He did something wrong and now he has got to pay for it. All of our family is cursed, there is no hope. Tough times are waiting for us».

  How can you speak with such individuals? I got angry. «That kid is not feeling god and no one is helping him. You even blame him! What kind of people are you?».

  «Aziz is not a kid. He is the guardian. He was. A guardian who betray his people cannot be forgiven».

  «Do you understand that he did not do anything! He has been attacked! He could not do anything!�
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  Even the old man got angry. «He used the relic to cure the infidels, it is what he has done! Our most precious good has been wasted like this. Misfortune and death will rain on our heads».

  I had never taken into consideration from that point of view. «Infidels… is that the problem? Don’t you forgive him because of this?».

  «He had to be the guardian but he was not able to protect it. He wasted his power, he caused the destruction. What are we without the relic? Tell me, what is the sense of this life? Allah won’t never forgive us and our sons. For all of the generations that will come. We are cursed».

  «Wasted». I went again, because that was the heart of the problem. The wasted power for the infidels. Because of this, the stone was destroyed and you were desperate.

  «This is bullshit!», I shouted, I could not hold myself back anymore. «You are making that kid suffer for a bunch of idiot superstitions!».

  The woman translated one last sentence, while the eyes of that old man were shining. «If you really don’t believe in it, why did he take it with you?».

  That sentence disturbed me. I did not take anything with me. But you told him that you gave the stone to me.

  They didn’t say anything and I had to go away.

  I managed to see you one last time after that. The last one.

  They didn’t want to let me in but I started shouting. There was a doctor in the house and they were feeding you with a drip but it was useless. It was already 10 days that you didn’t eat, you were refusing any type of feeding treatment, even the drip was useless. Your father was desperate to the point where he contravened to the orders of the patriarch. Maybe he hoped that I had to perform the miracle.

  I held myself back from shouting when I got into his room. I had never seen a kid in that conditions, neither on the documentaries about the poorest Africa. You were already a skeleton, got together by a grey and pale skin. For a moment, I saw your smile. Or maybe I dreamed of it.

  You were worried about me. «It is right», you said with a very low voice. «I made a mistake».

  Of course you did not make a mistake, this is what I needed you to understand. «You made a mistake about what? Trying helping your mates? Making them feel better? You did not do anything wrong Aziz, they make mistakes».