Foxes Hill

Foxes Hill Parte 8

It is evident that none of them have a trade in their hands, and, above all, no desire to learn one; the path of self-employment is too difficult and full of sacrifices and unknowns to take, but it is the only way that can highlight their abilities, when they are there.

Having skills, and using them for your own account, is always better for your own benefit than for the benefit of others.

Let me be clear that personally I have nothing against the young people of today that seeking, for their future, a permanent employment that satisfies them, and that translated, means: a secure job that will take them straight to retirement.

But what needs to be clear is that there will never be enough jobs to absorb demand if there are not enough young people with a strong will to undertake.

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Returning to the story, on the other side of the road, in the barber's salon, Master Paolo plays his accordion, surrounded by people who seem to actively participate, following the rhythm and also clapping their hands and feet; I feel one singing, and I find this to be a nice way to spend an evening; sitting at the doorstep, I participate too.

It is now evening, and I am always sitting in the usual place, when I hear: "Mast Paul staj sunann 'na tarantella!" (Master Paolo is playing a tarantella!).

It is my cousin Antoniuccio, a few months younger than me, who greets me as he approaches.

He is the same age as me and, more or less physically, he resembles me, except for her hair which is slightly blonder than mine.

I jump to my feet and say hello too; he has been in Rocchetta since noon: he came with Uncle Ferdinando.

"So it was you, on the motorcycle behind our uncle, when he passed on the provincial road this morning!" I asked him, and he nodded; and immediately, smiling, he asked me: "Tagg vist n'ziem a lu figl r P'coscia, a pasc r vacch: mica vuò fa lu vaccar?"(I saw you, with P'coscia's son to graze the cows: do you want to be cowherd?), he says, smiling at me.

"No! No! I only went together this time; I was headed up to Mount Calvario and I met him at the fountain; he offered me to go with him and I accepted: it seemed polite to accept!" I answer confidently, and then I go back to sit, and he sits next to me.

In order not to remain silent watching the promenade, I tell him that I am at Rocchetta for a few days, and that I left Corato as soon as I finished school.

Since I am there, I decide to also tell him about the trip I made alone, and how it went.

He was surprised and amazed by what I told him, especially about Sister José and the nuns in Cerignola.

He tells me that I had a lot of courage to travel alone, so small and with no one to accompany me.

I replied that it was not courage that pushed me to make the journey, but the trust in myself, the trust in others, and above all in my mother and father, who, not being able to accompany me, still allowed me to do so.

I add, that having entrusted me to the driver of the first bus and from these to the next and then again to the last, thanks also to the passengers I met in the various stages and who spoke to me or just smiled, all this has helped me not to be afraid and to travel serene and confident.

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I repeat: my father was not a fool, and if he nevertheless recommended to a stranger, however a bus driver, a seven-year-old boy, who would have faced alone a journey, unknown to him, it is because in that Italy, - the nation I'm describing, the Italy of the time - it was possible: it was safe!