Sicilian structures

My son has just done his terza media (Junior Cert) exams and his theme was WATER. He spoke about Ungaretti’s I Fiumi, where rivers are a metaphor for human experience, and John Donne’s No Man is an Island on the interconnectivity of our lives as humans. His teachers gave him a theme so close to my heart: my songs and books often feature some form of water – rivers, seas and oceans appear as metaphor and meaning. Then, having done my work (apparently it is the mother's job to write the tesina for their child's presentation) I left for the islands to complete some fact-checking (days earned thanks to separation laws which accord parenting time to fathers). Gratitude.

A woman travelling alone garners so much attention here. The lusty squat hydrofoil attendant breathing down my neck as I tried to sleep on the trip over, the Senegalese waiter in the port cafè asking too many questions, the Peruvian caretaker of the place I stayed curious about my age. The group of six lads on a party weekend looking for flirts in the restaurant where I had lunch. Sometimes it is wise to hide the fact I speak their languages. French and Wolof, Spanish and Quechua. Italian and Sicilian. But other times it is useful, as you can go deeper when you speak the same language.

The weight of the Sicilian eye is always upon you, I was warned about this when I lived in Tuscany years ago. I don't think you can appreciate the full significance of this phrase unless you live and experience the vicissitudes of life - from within the confines of the Sicilian family. To understand Sicilian power structures I read everything about Sicily, from Tomasi di Lampedusa to Terroni (Pino Aprile), Quasimodo to Scascia, Verga to Pitrè, La Storia Segreta della Sicilia to local stories about the castle I live next to. Contemporary women’s writing starting from Goliarda la Sapienza. This eclectic reading helped deepen my understanding, as did Sicilian folk music and true friendships forged over time. 

I came to live in Sicily because I was once married to a Sicilian, but that is not the reason I am here. I came here first alone, and saw a full moon rise over the Greek temple at Selinunte, and was enchanted, while simultaneously repulsed by the latent patriarchal culture. I have stayed on to raise my two children essentially alone, an epic journey which is at times rewarding and at others challenging, as that judgemental eye is always on you. Courage is called upon, and often.

To live in Sicily is to come into constant contact with light and shadow, beauty and chains. There is continuous learning on how to go with the flow, paramount to survival on this stunning but prickly island.

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