The Rom people are a nuisance, they smell and steal, great I thought. So, being a bit crazy myself, I invited Don Ciotti to follow up his letter by helping us to reflect together in a Protestant setting , our church here in Turin. As we have a Rom church in the Venice area I decide to organize a round-table discussion on the subject inviting the president of the Baptist Union , pastor Anna Maffei together with Don Ciotti. The name of the anti-mafia priest always attracts attention and the church, in fact, is full. The next Saturday a Rom group, the Svoboda Orchestra sings and I take nearly all the girls from the community in which I work in San Mauro Torinese to hear them.
The girls dance a bit and clap their hands to the rhythm of the music. Days go by but then the time comes to translate theory into practice. Three months on a Rom girl is lying in pain crying in the street here in Moncalieri. A woman from my church passes by just at that moment and bending over her asks what the matter is. The girl’s name is Laura*, she’s seven and not having eaten anything for a whole day, is writhing in pain. The woman, Anna-Maria asks her where she lives “in a hut, down by the river” she replies. So, gathering her courage because it’s dark, she takes the girl back to the hut and so discovers a reality she knew nothing about up till then. There is a tiny run down settlement on the banks of the Po, seven little huts in one of which Laura lives. They have come from Romania seven months ago where the husband had already abandoned the family. There’s the mother and four children, three girls 5,7 and 11 years old and a little boy of 9 as well as the maternal grandmother. There’s also an uncle, the mother’s brother who’s obviously mentally ill, he looks into space and laughs. The young mother who supports them all “earns” money washing windscreens at the traffic lights but she doesn’t make enough to feed them all. It’s the only decent way she has to earn some money. It is however an activity punishably by fining. Last week she got a fine of 60 euros which of course she’ll never be able to pay.
Let’s take a step back though to the beginning of our story. When Anna Maria meets Laura I’m at work in Gruppo Abele. Anna Maria phones me on her mobile and tells me what’s happened. It’s a Friday. The next day my wife goes to the hut to check things out and take some food. There’s only a gas cylinder which heats a little stove to heat the food on as it is very cold. There’s no electricity but there are a lot of rats just outside the hut. With no work contract the children’s mother (an irregular European community immigrant) is invisible. I talk to the church about her and we decide to help her, not with money which we don’t have but with primary goods. That means those things which are vital to survival and which we take for granted but which for her are a luxury. They had no cutlery and the children ate with their hands, they had no sheets nor towels nor glasses etc. We contact the social services in Moncalieri. Gypsies are a problem and there are no funds. At my house, however, there is a shower, a washing machine (you just can’t wash everything by hand) and the possibility of bringing the children home on Sundays so that at least for them that day isn’t the same as all the others but a holiday, as it is for us. Sometimes the pastor’s house proves providential. They just want normality. They even begin to come to the Sunday service because there are hymns and they like singing. Our little church offers them an hour’s worth of warmth and they start coming to Sunday school. Our Sunday school teacher comes from Peru and she welcomes them joyfully. When she was in Peru she knew what it was like to be hungry. My daughter Alessandra becomes friends with the eldest girl, Carla aged 11. They’re the same age and immediately Alessandra realises that Carla has been robbed. This time, however, it’s not the gypsies who are the thieves but civil society. She has been robbed of the joy and beauty of childhood. The social state doesn’t count, what counts is the purchase of arms and the maintenance of soldiers sent round the world on “military operations”, another way of saying to fight wars. Then, I can’t forget the only male child, he’s only 9 and quite deprived of love. He’s looking for a father figure and of course he attaches himself to me like glue. Mid January we gave them an electricity generator which works off petrol. David, an electrician who is a member of my church got it going. No more candles, the children and the old grandmother break out in smiles. They’ll now be able to watch television.
Then there’s the health problem. They’re entitled to a doctor from Moncalieri “the foreigners’ doctor”. Our Rom family, however, has less trouble explaining their symptoms than getting their doses right. My wife then, Graziella (and pastor’s wives in general, it’s true that they share their husband’s ministry) goes with them to the doctor’s who has surgery only Mondays and Thursdays. On the other days you just can’t get ill or you have to go the Emergency unit.
It’s cold, it’s the beginning of February and our story continues and will do so even when I’ve put a full stop to these lines.. In the meantime if any one of you has some luxury item they want to get rid of, please let me know, clothes, stationery for the children, towels, potatoes (they love potatoes and they don’t cost much)….
The author is pastor of the Baptist Church of Moncalieri, near Turin. For further information please write to Questo indirizzo email è protetto dagli spambots. È necessario abilitare JavaScript per vederlo.