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Gift Gugu Mona

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“Tínhamos que encarar o rosto obsceno daquela realidade que nos tocou no destino. Aquele barquinho naufragado estava cheio de somalis, essa era realidade! Cheio de homens e mulheres, de seres humanos reduzidos a larvas. Aquela embarcação de papel estava cheia de gente com o nariz como o meu, com a boca como a minha, com os meus cotovelos. Todos nós da diáspora somali, no dia em que ficamos sabendo dessa notícia, não sabíamos o que fazer com os nossos corpos. Os que morreram nas costas da ilha de Lampedusa tinham provocado não somente uma comoção sem igual, mas um mal-estar. Por que eles morreram e nós estávamos vivos? Por que o destino nos dividiu em dois? A estação melhorou muitíssimo nos últimos anos. De uma parte, houve a restauração feita pela prefeitura, de outra, várias comunidades migrantes também se organizaram. Há lojinhas de todo tipo. Quer colocar aplique no cabelo? Quer um pouco de cardamomo para os chás condimentados do seu recanto? Quer um tecido com a história da rainha de Sabá para pendurar nas paredes de casa? Em Termini, encontram-se coisas fantásticas: de saris a raiz de rummay para escovar os dentes, e até goiabada que os brasileiros comem com queijo e chamam romanticamente de 'Romeu & Julieta'. E também quantidades infinitas de eenjera e zighinì. Moha, em sua época de ouro, pintou e bordou. Eu e minha mãe éramos espectadoras mudas das confusões que ele armava. Por um período, ele teve até três nomes. Louis para as mulheres que achavam que ele fosse sul-americano, Ali para as brancas que não sabiam pronunciar seu verdadeiro nome (e todas as vezes lhe diziam 'Que massa, como Ali Babá', e Amedeo para as mais duras na queda e experientes. Só disse seu nome verdadeiro à mulher que se tornou, por fim, a mulher da sua vida. 'Eu não queria estragar o nome. É o que me sobrou da Somália, além de vocês.”

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Book:La mia casa è dove sono
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“Thomas Edison hailed him as the "genius of the modern age”; Gandhi, as a “superman.” Winston Churchill pledged to stand by him in his “struggle against the bestial appetites of Leninism.” Newspapers in Rome, host to the Vatican, referred to him as “the incarnation of God.” In the end, people who had worshipped [Benito Mussolini's] every move hung his corpse upside down next to his mistress’s near a gas station in Milan.”

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Book:Fascism: A Warning
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“The Fascists grew because millions of Italians hated what they were seeing in their country and were afraid of what the world was witnessing in Bolshevik Russia. In speech after speech, Mussolini offered an alternative. He urged his countrymen to reject the capitalists who wanted to exploit them, the Socialists who were bent on disrupting their lives, and the crooked and spineless politicians who talked and talked while their beloved homeland sank further into the abyss. Instead of pitting class against class, he proposed that Italians unite—workers, students, soldiers, and businesspeople—and form a common front against the world. He asked his supporters to contemplate a future in which those who belonged to his movement would always look out for one another, while the parasites who had been holding the country back—the foreign, the weak, the politically unreliable—would be left to fend for themselves. He called on his followers to believe in an Italy that would be prosperous because it was self-sufficient, and respected because it was feared. This was how twentieth-century Fascism began: with a magnetic leader exploiting widespread dissatisfaction by promising all things.”

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Book:Fascism: A Warning
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“Μου αρέσει η Ιταλία; Ιδού το ερώτημα. Είχα πάντα την αίσθηση ότι ήταν τρομερή χώρα. Η απερίγραπτη ομορφιά της συνοδεύεται με τις πιο ζοφερές σκέψεις. Όπου και να πας θα βρείς ίχνη από αίμα και δάκρυα. Για να είμαι ειλικρινής, αυτό ισχύει παντού στον κόσμο, εδώ όμως είναι πολύ πιο εμφανές απ ότι στις άλλες χώρες. Καθώς περνούσαν οι αιώνες, έρχονταν κι έφευγαν πόλεμοι και τυραννίες, τρομερές θεομηνίες, αμέτρητα βάσανα στα παλάτια και στα καλύβια. Διακρίνεις κάτι το ανήλεο στον γαλανό ουρανό που θεώρησε απαθής όλα αυτά. Σε ότι αφορά τον κόσμο, μπορείτε να διακρίνετε αιώνες οδύνης ζωγραφισμένους επάνω σε αυτά τα πρόσωπα και να τους ακούσετε στη φωνή των ανθρώπων. Ναι, ναι, μου αρέσει η Ιταλία. Αλλά με την ευγενέστερη σημασία της λέξης.”

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“Norcia is an ancient town with Roman ruins and Renaissance structures that exists like a flat island in a sea of more mountainous towns. It has survived countless strong earthquakes, including two particularly devastating ones a few years back. You can still see some buildings across town in disrepair and chunks of structures missing. But in the intervening years, as the town has rebuilt, it has also taken on a magical air of rebirth. Old buildings mixed in with new patches. The enthusiasm of seeing tourists streaming through again is palpable. You can still see the remnants, but it's clear that even natural devastation can't remove its charm. Parts of the restaurant's back wall have crumbled, but it now has an air of bohemian clutter where plants have taken root in the fractures.”

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Book:Recipe for Second Chances
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“Walking around Spoleto is like stepping into an old Italian advertisement bursting with color. Little cafés dot the streets and are already filing up. The shops and houses are all painted with faded versions of sunset hues--- hazy blue, orangey salmon, marigold, and dusty pinks. They all have large rounded black-and-blue shutters and equally archlike stone entrances where large wooden doors are nestled. Streetlamps jut out from the sides of buildings with misty, globe-shaped balls attached to twirling wrought iron.”

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Book:Recipe for Second Chances
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