Bring Me Back My Boys

CHAPTER 2.
The bitter northerly winds congealed our noses, as we made our way towards the farmhouse, after a long hard days work in the barn attending to the animals and the little vegetation that we could grow in the harsh winter. The sky lowered with heavy black clouds, and all I could hear was the whistling shrill of the wind that Alessandro and I were struggling against because it’s force was pushing us backwards. Finally reaching the farmhouse door we pushed our way inside and went straight for the fire that Mama had prepared earlier. She comes over to us and embraces us like she always does, smothering us with affectionate kisses. A severe snowstorm was upon us and instead of being disheartened I was content, because this meant we would be alleviated of the vigorous chores that Papa would solicit us to do.
Looking outside the frosted window, snowflakes whirled and settled on the dampened ground from the previous sleet. I had a smile on my face gratified that we would be spending the next handful of days with Mama. We always sing songs that Nonna (grandmother), had taught her. Mama patiently teaches us the lyrics and then we all sing in harmony, the most beautiful songs. Her patience and kindness was incomparable, and her spirit was indomitable. In replace for these virtues we would assist Mama whenever we could, that is if Papa would allow it. Alessandro would help with the cooking as he always liked to eat, and I would help with the heavier chores like chipping the ground in the garden, collecting vegetables, the laundry and a spot of cleaning. Mama didn’t need too much assistance here for she kept the tiny farmhouse immaculate. The farmhouse was unadorned, modest, but homely. As you walk in from the heavy entrance door, to the left is Alessandro and my bed, which we both share. In front of our bed is a curtain that Mama made, and which we draw across every evening, depicting as our bedroom wall when we both nestle for sleep.
To the right is Mama and Papa’s heavy posted bed and in the middle is the table with four straw chairs. From the roof hang dried garlic, onions and hot chillies. Cacciatore (small salami) and cured hams hang from the rafters, which are made in February. An annual hog ritual, carnevale, (time of year, when after feeding and raising the animal, it is slaughtered to make our main supply of protein for the year. It is also festive time where we dress up in masquerades and trick or treat, similar to Halloween). Cured cheese sits on a shelf in a dark corner which is attended to by Mama, the cheese maker, but is rarely eaten, for this is our income source for other necessities like salt, oil, sugar the condiments that could not be grown on our land.
As wood makes too much smoke in the farmhouse, coal is purchased for warmth and cooking facility. Money is spent on Shoes and some clothing only when mama cannot repair them anymore. The summer months are tiresome wheat is gathered then winnowed. With a fork it is tossed in the air so the wind blows away the lighter chaff while the heavier grains fall down for recovery and the chaff is collected to feed the livestock. Some of the grain is sold but some is kept and milled into flour, which is then made into bread and pasta. Mama has a technique of making pasta from flour and water, creating every shape she can possibly create. If there is enough flour to spare, which is rarely, Mama makes biscuit’, making our taste buds dance, a real treat.
Fruit is picked, laid out to dry in the sultry sun for the winter supply. Vegetables are preserved, tomatoes are made into conserve, borlotti, (cranberry beans) and cannellini beans (white bean very popular in southern Italy similar to kidney beans) are dried, stored or sold if need be. Food is grown for the animals and is stored for the winter months and when the supply is all eaten, Papa needs to buy the feed with whatever produce is available to sell, including the eggs the hens lay. It is an ongoing cycle that never ends month after month, year after year.
Bored and tired, longing to play with other children, Alessandro and I would dare not say, for Papa would raise his hand and give us a hiding to remind us how blessed we are to have this terrain, and be grateful to have a roof over our head. At the young age of four, we are leaving home before sunrise and coming home at sunset. Every morning Mama has our lunch prepared in a little serviette tied at opposite corners, which included a piece of bread and a small cacciatore. Sometimes, without papa knowing she slips in a piece of cheese and tells us to eat it without Papa seeing us. Life is trying and intense with abusive Papa, but we manage to see it through with Mama by our sides and our singing.
Sunday is holy day; before mass we make our way to the cemetery to lay flowers at our late brother’s grave, which haunted me at first to have my name “Luca” on the headstone. Also beside Luca is, Nonno Raffael and Nonna Catarina (Papa’s parents), who contracted malaria and passed on at an early age. Mama usually spoke very kindly of Papa’s parents, saying that they were good hearted people and very giving, I wandered where Papa got his character from. Nonno and Nonna passed away not long after Mama married Papa. Usually before we make our way to the cemetery, we pick papperini (poppies), which grow everywhere in the garden. After the cemetery we then make our way to the piazza, cross, and enter the church early so we be seated as close to the alter as possible. Alessandro and I would sit side by side and sing the church hymns in unison, sometimes getting the appraisal of fellow worshipers and even Father Pedro, the priest of our parish. After mass we go down to Dasa, a small village at the foot of the mountain where Nonna Rosa and Nonno Simone’, (Mama’s parents) lived. We are always welcomed with hugs of adoration, she then tells us to search the pockets in her apron for a surprise, and we pull out a handful of fresh hazelnuts in their shells.
Nonna Rosa always caresses our curly blonde hair and asks “ Luca what have I got here?” pointing to the corner of her eye. I look up and look straight into her eyes, but I never see anything wrong. “ You have nothing Nonna,” I reply. Nonna just uses that little excuse so she can get a fixation of my bright blue eyes, which is very rare in our villages. A majority of paesani have dark hair; brown eyes and a dark complexion, I often wonder why Alessandro and I are so different, a sense that we just don’t belong. Mama often takes some food to Nonno and Nonna, being old and frail means that they cannot work strenuously so they rely on the goodwill of mama and everyone else for necessities. In Calabria there is no help of governments, everybody needs to improvise for one and other, the land of the forgotten.
Carlo was sitting having some wine to drink, glass after glass trying to warm up from the chill he had encountered earlier on. He watches Francesca prepare the evening meal, he has tried to impregnate her desperately wanting a son of his own, but years went past and nothing. His anxiety was getting the better of him; he honestly believed she was doing something to prevent herself from falling pregnant. ‘ Why would she want to fall pregnant, she has her miracle babies, so she calls these brats,’ he thought to himself as he poured himself another drink. The only reason he took the responsibility of these desolated children was for the reward, but the years have gone past and still no one has come to claim them, the thought of a reward is diminishing and he is getting more frustrated. He pours himself another drink and then another.
“Luca, come it’s time to eat”, Mama says as she places the plates of food on the table. I sit down, I look down on my plate and there it was the same food we have been eating for the past week, broccoli. With this bitter cold weather, your palate desires hearty meals like pasta with a ragout made of meat or a hearty vegetable soup or pasta fagioli, (pasta with borlotti beans). Coming close to the end of winter, rations are low; summer didn’t produce the quantity, meaning we have to make do with whatever is growing in season. Alessandro who was sitting next to me dropped his fork and started lamenting about the meal, “Mama not broccoli again, can’t I just have some cheese and bread? I am so tired of broccoli please Mama”. I kicked him under the table as I had my eyes fixed on Papa. He looked up his face reddened with fury, he clenched his fist and slammed it down on the table making all the plates, and forks jump like my heart did. He got up out of his seat. I quickly stood up grabbing Alessandro by his shirt and pulled him towards me as we stood in front of our bed.
We held onto one another, our knees shaking and our bottom lip trembling as Papa slowly approached us with his arm in the air ready to strike, “please Papa he didn’t mean what he said, please don’t hurt him,” I pleaded.
At that moment Mama Stepped in front of us, “ he is only young he doesn’t understand let him be.”
“ Not only have I put up with these forsaken children for all these years, feeding them and putting a roof over their head, they insult the food I lay before them. I knew I should have let them go to the orphanage back then,” he shouted.
“Carlo please watch what you say in front of the children,” Mama replied, annoyed that he had just broken the silence she had been desperately trying to protect from her miracle boys.
“I got to watch what I say, it’s a pity you didn’t teach your abandoned children what to say, can’t you see they don’t belong here they are city boys,” he wailed at the top of his voice.
“How dare you,” she said with vengeance in her eyes. He came closer; Mama pushed us back to protect us, he strikes her across her face and she screams to me “Luca run.” I quickly grab Alessandro, we run as fast as our legs could carry us outside the farmhouse, through the knee-deep snow and make shelter in the barn. My mind was whirling ‘what did Papa mean about the orphanage? Abandoned children?’ I thought to myself.
Francesca fell to the ground; she holds her face as she tries to catch her breath from the beat she just encountered. He grabs her by the hair and lifts her up, pushes her towards the bed and throws her on the bed; he climbs on top of her pinning her down and rips her blouse open. “Carlo stop it your drunk,” she says with fright in her voice, struggling underneath him trying to free herself. He holds her breasts firmly until she screams out with pain; her struggling beneath him makes him aroused. She tries to push him off her, he sits astride her undoes the front of his trousers and pulls up her long skirt. She try’s desperately to free herself pushing, scratching, but his weight is overbearing. He grabs her wrists and holds them firmly above her head; fully aroused he forcibly opens her legs with his knees and thrust himself inside her. She felt violated and repulsed with every stroke that he entered her with his panting body. She turned her face to the side, and could smell the stench of alcohol as he moaned and groped the side of her neck. With a frenzy of thrusts he climaxed and shuddered to a halt.
She sat in bed with her knees pulled up to her chest and a tear rolling down the side of her cheek. Carlo was lying beside her on his back and the moment he fell asleep Francesca ran outside to find her boys. “Luca, Alessandro,” she screamed out, frantically.
“Mama” she heard Luca cry out from the barn. Francesca quickly trudged through the snow towards the barn “Mama” the boys ran and embraced her as she went down on her knees.
“Mama I am so sorry for what I did said Alessandro as he stroked, what will be a bruising on her face “I’m so sorry did he hurt you much,” Alessandro said teary eyed.
“No, No,” said Mama, “ I will be fine he didn’t hurt me much at all, now come on home, you poor little darlings must be frozen to the core out here”.
Francesca opened the door of the farmhouse slightly and peered in to make sure Carlo was still asleep, and by the sound of his snoring she knew he wasn’t going to wake in any hurry. Mama quickly put us near the fire to dry off and made some hot milk to warm up. Sitting on the bed holding our cups with both hands I said in a whispered voice as not to wake Papa up, “Mama what did Papa mean when he said that he should have let us go to the orphanage?”
Mama came and sat with us on the bed and she knew that she must tell them the truth, because if she didn’t they would go question Carlo, and she would rather have them hear it from her than that brute.
“ Well when Luca Passed away I went to church to pray and I found you both on the steps of the church so I bought you here. The next morning Papa said we must take you to the Sindico. When we got there he told us that either we put you in an orphanage or we take the responsibility and that we did.”
“So that means you’re not our real Mama?” I asked with tears in my eyes.
“No, but I raised you and looked after you so that makes me your Mama right”
“Yes it does” said Alessandro “who is our real mother?” Alessandro asked concerned, but not as concerned as I was.
“I don’t know, I just found you outside the church in baskets I don’t know who she is,” she replied with empathy.
“So that means Papa isn’t our real Papa?” I asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for you he just doesn’t show it at times,” she said trying to sound apologetically on his behalf.
Everything seemed a little clearer, that sense of not belonging is because we don’t belong. It is a wonder why Papa is a tyrant, unmerciful, ruthless and pitiless towards us, treating us like drudgers showing no compassion, because we are not his real sons. Mama is the only one who has made us her own, and really treats us like her bambini, (children). ‘Who is my real mother? She mustn’t be a good Mama if she left us abandoned, and who is our real Papa he must be better than the one we have, or is he?’ I thought. ‘What if Mama was not at the church to bring us home, where would we be now? Maybe in an orphanage.’ The thought sends chills down my spine; I would rather be here in the loving arms of Mama and putting up with iron heart Papa.
“Come” Mama said as she signalled us off the bed. She turned over the covers and the three of us all hopped into bed, Mama in the middle. She held us both in her arms and we all sang a lullaby together, gently whispering not to wake Papa up. “You’re my real Mama, and I love you very much,” said Alessandro as he leant over to kiss her
“Yes you are and I love you too,” I said kissing her on the cheek.
“I love you both you are my little boys and no one can tell me otherwise” said Francesca with a smile on her face. She had forgotten for a moment, how Carlo tormented her body; she is content, she has her babies back in her arms unhurt.
Winter was drawing to the end, unlike our chores, which are never ending. Mama hardly spoke with Papa and continued sleeping in our bed since Papa was so brutal with her. Mama is the first to wake in the morning and not long after she wakes she is outside vomiting, Alessandro and I thought she was very ill and were broken hearted to see her unsound and unwell. Papa knew she was ill and all he did was smile with content; I couldn’t help but think how impertinent and monstrous he really was. Mama sat on one of the straw chairs and she wiped her perspiring forehead with her apron, she was extremely pale. Alessandro and I went over to comfort her with perturbed look on our faces. Mama looked down on us and smiled, “ you have no need to worry yourselves I will be fine Mama is going to have a baby.”
“A baby,” I said in astonishment “ how do you know?” I questioned.
“Oh, god came to me in my dreams and told me so” Mama replied
“Oh Mama I think you are truly blessed if god spoke to you in your dreams, but why is he making you so ill?” I continued to query.
“Well he told me it will pass but this is the sign to make me know that I am pregnant,” she answered.
“Oh Mama this is truly a miracle that we are welcoming a baby from god” said Alessandro excited.
Mama’s illness did not subside like god told her that it would and as the weeks went by her stomach was starting to protrude. She was feeling fatigued but she still continued to travail on the land, with Papa feeling no commiseration or compassion. Under the circumstances Mama would still sing along with us and try to fulfil the attention we lacked from Papa. No matter how much we laboured or how satisfactorily we did our work Papa would never acknowledge it. Alessandro and I were also feeling fatigued, our days work never ended. Every evening Alessandro and myself clean away the dinner plates and do most of the cleaning tasks to alleviate Mama. Unlike Papa she could not stop praising us and reward us with some biscuits or a frittata (egg based dish similar to an omelette, enriched with vegetables), that is whenever Papa wasn’t around.
Some days Papa would be gone for two days at a time, whenever he needed to sell some produce. He would load up the cart hauled by a couple of horses in harness, and with the money he made he would return with other amenities including his vino (wine). On rare occasions we go along with Papa, only when there is a huge amount of goods to be unloaded, although we enjoyed the time with Mama, we also are excited to go with Papa even though it is strenuous. It is always thrilling for Alessandro and myself to leave Arena and see other nearby villages and new faces. As we approached summer the heat was intense and Mama was finding it unbearable feeling faint at times. Her stomach was incredibly huge and when I placed my hand against it, I can actually feel movement inside. Astounded of god’s little creation I scream out to Alessandro so he can feel as well, we were both anxious for the arrival of our new addition.
Ironically god sent the baby to be born in December and I thought ‘maybe god wants all his babies to be born this month.’ The moment we all anticipated especially Papa, who had been anxiously waiting, so certain that god is sending him a new son and he was right, Raffael was born. He was named Raffael because the first-born is always named after Nonno Papa’s father. Alessandro and I were not named after him because obviously we were not his real sons therefore we were not entitled to this privilege and Luca, our eldest brother didn’t survive, so Papa didn’t bother to make him nameable. Papa was over joyed and ecstatic “at last” he said “a son.” This troubled my mind and suddenly it daunted upon me, ‘what if they don’t want us anymore and send us to the orphanage?’ I was horrified.
Mama didn’t take long to recover, and she was overwhelmed with the arrival of Raffael just as Papa was. Alessandro and I were pleased to see her beaming with delight but at the same time we were feeling dismayed. Mama noticed our discontentedness, “ Luca, Alessandro what is the matter why are you both saddened?” she asked” are you not happy that you have a new brother?”
“Yes Mama we are very happy that we have Raffael, and we love him very much but….” I paused.
“Yes, what is troubling my little marascialli,”(Marshall’s a nickname for little calabrese boys), she implored.
“Well now that you and Papa have a son, a real son of your own does this mean we must go to the orphanage?” I asked as Alessandro and I stood before her teary eyed.
“Oh my lord whatever makes you think of these disturbing thoughts? Now you both listen to me I love you just as much as I love Raffael, you are not going to no orphanage. This is your home and I am always your Mama, do you understand?”
We both stood there with our head bowed down not saying anything. Mama put her index finger under both our chin and lifted our head up and she asked again with a big smile on her face “do you understand?”
“Yes Mama,” we both replied in relief. Mama leant over and enveloped us in her arms and then she tickled our sides till we were hysterically laughing.
Of course Papa cherishes Raffael, and every little move or sound he makes he relish’s. He holds him every evening in his arms until he’s fast asleep and then nestles him gently in his crib. Alessandro and I are disregarded and rejected, how we long for his affection that we never receive. The only time Papa acknowledges us, is to say, “Stop singing because you’re going to wake Raffael,”
“Stop talking that is why Raffael is crying,” or “ get off Mama’s lap because it’s time for Raffael’s feed,” everything was about Raffael. Mama usually gets irritable with his attitude but not more so than what we did. Mama never treats us differently she still has the same finesse as previously, but raising Raffael and dealing with all the other duties, mean we have to take on more responsibility to lessen her burden. No matter how tiresome, we would never let Mama down. The early mornings got earlier, this morning we had to do the laundry so Alessandro is in charge of getting the water to boil and I start taking the linen off all the beds. Mama and Papa’s bed is so high that I have to climb on top of it to make it, and then strenuously lifting the mattress to tuck the blankets underneath.
Mama told me to change the linen in the crib as well, so I reach under Mama’s bed for the two baskets where she kept the linen. I got the tiny sheets out and as I pulled them out of the basket I noticed something gold hidden underneath the pile of creased material. I began to empty the basket and pulled out two sheets, the softest material I have ever felt. The gold paisley embroidery was of high quality and extraordinary, I had never felt or seen anything so exquisite. I held it up to Mama “ where did u get this from?” I asked stunned that she possessed something that was so exorbitant.
“ Dear lord Luca where did you find those?” answering my question with a question with an alarming look on her face.
“I’m sorry Mama I just found them underneath all the linen, I shall put them right back?” I said repentant not wanting to upset Mama.
“No Luca it is fine,” she said as she got up out of her chair where she had finished feeding Raffael and walked over to me with Raffael cradled in her arms.
Alessandro had stopped what he was doing and walked over to inspect the silk, “that is so soft, where did you get this from Mama?” he asked
“That is the silk you both were wrapped in when I found you on the church steps, and they are the two baskets you were in” she replied as she pointed to the baskets which had been slid out from underneath the bed.
“Mama this is very beautiful, how do you think our mother could afford to have wrapped us in this?” I asked still holding the material in my hand.
“I don’t know Luca, I wish I had the answers to all your questions but I don’t have them, I am just as puzzled as you are.” She said with sympathy in her eyes wishing she could tell them more.
I gently folded them away and placed them where they belonged and went back to what I was doing, I feel we are part of a jigsaw and we are the lost pieces. As we went down to the brook to wash all the bed linen not a word was spoken, we then carried the laundry into the farmhouse, placed it into the boiling water covered with another clean sheet, and on top of this we lay burning ambers. This is a means of sterilisation, once the water cools the ambers are removed and the laundry is wringed out ready to hang. Finishing the chores at home we grab our serviettes with our lunch and make our way to the barn to meet Papa. As we were walking Alessandro says “Luca do you think that it is true what Mama just told us about the silk?”
“Alessandro, what are you saying, of course its true Mama would never lie about something like that.”
“ Well, where would our real mother get that sort of silk from?” Alessandro asked.
“ I am not sure but I do know one thing for sure our Mama would not lie to us”
As soon as we entered the barn, not satisfied with the answers I had given him, Alessandro courageously questioned Papa. “Do you know anything about the silk we were wrapped in when Mama found us?” he asked.
Papa stopped forking the hay that he was feeding the cow with and he turned to look at him “who told you about the silk?”
“Luca found it in the baskets” Alessandro said unperturbed of Papa’s reaction.
“They were the baskets you were found in, and yes you were wrapped in the fine silk, and I am still waiting for your wealthy parents to come and find you but they don’t want you so I’m stuck with you so get to work.” He said indignantly.
Well we knew where we stand with Papa, but at least we found the truth about the silk and wealthy parents. My mind baffled, why did our wealthy parents abandon us? It is not as if they couldn’t afford to keep us, it couldn’t have been because we were so naughty because we were measly a few days old. The questions kept going through my mind and I never stopped trying to figure out where we belong in the jigsaw. After we finished feeding the pigs, which is usually, the last thing we do, Papa whistled and with his arm he motioned us to walk back to the barn. We ran to him, knowing his impatience, “hurry we must load the cart I need to leave early tomorrow.” Tired and hungry we did not let out a sigh, we just continued to carry out the chore we were ordered to do. Alessandro was so tired he couldn’t heave the sacks onto the cart so we both lifted them together one by one, while Papa organised them neatly on top of the cart. By the time we made our way back to the farmhouse we were so exhausted, that as soon as we ate we went straight to bed and fell fast asleep.
Raffael is now four years old and looks exactly like Papa, thick wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and dark complexion, the only thing he inherited from Mama is his rosy cheek. Alessandro and I adore him and we so much like playing games and singing together, but Papa does not let us spend too much time with him, like always we have to labor while Raffael is allowed to stay at home with Mama. Alessandro and I are now eight years old and Papa’s tolerance level with us is minimum. Raffael always welcomes us with open arms when we get home and even though we are weary we always take time out to play, for he is lonely during the day and longs for our companionship. In the morning we sometimes need to sneak out the door otherwise Raffael starts his crying because he wants to come out with us but Papa never allows it. In fact Papa never allows Raffael do any strenuous work, why should he when he has us to do it all.
The cart needed to be loaded which took forever, and we didn’t get back to the farmhouse till it was nightfall. As soon as we opened the door Raffael came running to us with open arms and we all fell to the ground, hysterically laughing. Papa was not so humorous and quickly picked up Raffael, put him on his feet while leaving us still on the floor. Papa doesn’t like the fact that Raffael shows brotherly love towards us, in fact it annoys him bitterly. He tries to keep us apart but we are so connected that nothing Papa says or does is going to separate our amity.
“Hurry up and clean up, have your dinner and straight to bed, we have an early start in the morning”, he said looking down on us with antipathy.
“Papa where are you going in the morning?” asked Raffael.
“We need to go to town to sell, and the boys need to come with me because we have a big load,” replied Papa.
“Oh please Papa may I come with you, please, please,” Raffael pleaded
“No you need to stay home otherwise you distract the boys and they need to work.”
“ Please Papa I will not distract them, I will work alongside them.”
“You don’t need to work my precious one, but they do,” Papa said with a harsh toned voice.
I looked at him with indignation, I wanted to shout at him “we are not your slaves and we don’t need to work because we are just as much your sons as Raffael is,” but I didn’t dare say a word. Papa could see the fury in my eyes and the resentment; he just smirked and walked towards the table sat down, and started eating. Mama came over to us, eyes full of affliction for she knows that Papa’s rigid words torture me, she hugged me and led me to the table, “eat before it gets cold,” she said as she stroked my curly hair. Allessandro really doesn’t care what Papa says; he is immured to his afflicting and agonising manner, enclosing himself within an imaginary brick wall, and no harshness from Papa penetrates. After dinner we all helped Mama clean up even though Raffael was ordered to sit with Papa, but he totally disregards him and helps us. After finishing the regular duties of cleaning Alessandro and I make our way to our bed and try to get an early night, for we know that tomorrow is going to be a huge day and we need as much rest as we can get. Raffael is a little uptight for this was his time for play and tonight it just was not going to be. He climbed into his little bed, which was beside ours and fell asleep.