ANCH'IO SONO STATA FUORI...

I’ve started talking to more and more people about my project and have started lining up potential interviewees. In fact, practically every Italian in the area at some point emigrated—it’s such a non-story to these folks. When I tell them why I’m here, most are just like, “si, anch’io sono stata fuori—in Germania per cinque anni, e poi la Svizzera per tre,” (yeah, I was away—five years in Germany and then three in Switzerland). These remarks come from people casually and matter-of-factly, as though they were telling me the time of day or how many kids they have.

But on at least one occasion, this information seemed almost a special little secret. Only after three days of visits to a telephone-electronics store in Calitri where the same young woman was helping us with our insanely complicated Internet-via-cell phone connection did she whisper to us: “Anch’io ho uno di questi” (I have one of theses too), pointing to my U.S. passport. Then the details started coming out: her mother emigrated to the U.S. for 7 years, she was born there (Connecticut); then they moved back to Italy some 15 years ago. When I asked her if her mother would be interested in being interviewed, she said, probably, but that I should be ready to hear her say how much she hates being in Italy. Another young woman we met in Bisaccia told us she was born in Switzerland under similar circumstances, and that if I interviewed her grandmother, I should be ready to hear her say unpleasant things about Moroccan and Albanian immigrants. She explained that her grandmother always comments on the fact that at the border Italian immigrants had their health screened and that today such screening isn’t done: “ci hanno pigliato pure lu sangue pe vedé se era bbuono” (they even took our blood to see if it was good), she’d probably tell me, according to her granddaughter.
As far as the other side of the project, again with the help of a family friend, I’ve met one woman from the Ukraine who is eager to talk to me about her four years here. She’s also told me she’ll introduce me to other women, all of whom work as “badanti”—in-house nurses/maids who take care of (mainly) retired men. She is exactly the kind of contact I need in order to meet more recent immigrants. It’s harder, however, to set up interviews with the Moroccan or other North African immigrants. I’ve met two women and some children; however, neither of the women speak Italian. The children speak Italian and could play translator for me, but I have little confidence in the kind of exchange we’d have. I haven’t been able to meet any of the Moroccan men, but hope that with the help of some of the people I’ve already met, I’ll be able to do so.