School was a beginning of new life
‘I felt responsible for my baby brother’s loss’
This is the fourth in a series of articles on the life story of Lidia Qattan, a writer, columnist and artist.
– Editor
horses, he kept this one; she was like a friend to him.
Nina was a quiet, reliable animal, apparently afraid of nothing, even when father was caught under a bombardment in Milan with debris falling all around him, she remained calm.
After the incident it was discovered that the harness had been tampered with causing Nina to panic.
At the time of my father’s accident I was very sick with a severe case of whooping cough, I was then about three years old. Mother had recently given birth to Silvio, my baby brother, whom for the first time she was able to breastfeed.
His arrival was a great joy for both my parents, it was the realization of my father’s dream of having another son, but his happiness was short-lived.
Action
Because of the severity of my condition my parents moved me to their room to keep an eye on me. One night the attack of the cough was so severe that I couldn’t breathe, I was turning blue, when my father realizing I was choking, jumped out of bed with his leg in cast, and began shaking me so violently that everything inside me came out; his prompt action saved my life, I could breathe again.
Unfortunately at that time mother was breast-feeding the baby, the shock affected the chemistry of her milk, because soon after she fed him, Silvio became sick, two days later he was dead.
Though I could not be blamed for his death I felt responsible; I began having bad dreams but I could not confide in anyone. In those scary moments I found some peace of mind in remembering the elderly lady of the railway passage and that gave me some comfort.
Since we left Belle Donne I never saw her again, but whenever I needed her she was always in my heart.
Next to our house there was a school for the first and second grades, hearing the voices of the kids made me eager to be with them one day.
I was very excited when father
Lidia Qattan
bought me a school bag, it was not a great thing, but to me it was the most treasured possession I ever had, because for the first time I was having something new I could call my own.
Since I could remember whatever clothing or shoes I was wearing belonged to my sister whenever they became too small for her to wear. Only the thick, woolen stocking we children were forced to wear during the cold of winter, were knitted especially for each one of us every year. I hated them so much that as soon as it was Spring I was happy to get rid of them.
On the day I attended school it was the beginning of a new life for me, I loved to be with other children to play, to interact with them. Our teacher was an agreeable middle aged lady with curly hair and a friendly smile; of all the teacher I had during my scholastic years, she is the only one I still remember with affection.
In those days in Italy, till the late fifties, from the first grade to the fifth one teacher taught all the subjects in the curriculum except Religion and physical exercises, such a policy gave to the teacher the chance of getting to know the personality and needs of each child.
In my first year in school I was so happy and eager to learn that I could grasp the lesson as it was delivered; one explanation was enough for me to understand it.
Once our teacher failed to attend, so we children were taken to the second grade classroom. At the time the teacher was explaining how to do the
multiplication and division.
Lesson
The lesson was so interesting to me that when she asked the students if they understood, I rose my hand. The teacher first ignored me, but when I insisted, she smiled and called me to the blackboard to give a demonstration.
I was too short to reach the blackboard, so she carried me. Without hesitation I did both the multiplication and division as I saw her doing on the blackboard, then ran back to my place.
The teacher was so impressed that she made a fuss with her students.
Incidentally from the start of the war, the Italians who fought heroically for the freedom of their country in the previous century,were fed-up of fighting especially in foreign lands for the dream of glory of Mussolini, so when an Italian army was sent to France to fight, at their return home the soldiers instead of being welcomed back, were scorned by the people.
Damned if they did obey orders and damned if they didn’t soldiers were deserting the army and joining the Partisans who are becoming stronger day by day.
During the war in Libya, when General Badoglio requested a shipment of petrol from Italy, he received a cargo of water, this treachery speeded the loss of the African colonies and put an end to Mussolini’s dream.
The situation in Italy was getting more precarious day by day especially after Mussolini was captured by the Partisans and Hitler sent his army to Italy to rescue him.
The Nazi Germans were highly disciplined soldiers, orders were carried out with robot-like efficiency devoid of feelings or emotions; with such people in Italy life became very precarious for everyone.
By then almost everyone in the country was a partisan or was involved with the resistance.
My father was not a warrior, but was a strong sympathizer of the partisans, helping them with provisions and hiding anyone who sought sanctuary, risking death at the hand of the S.S or the Nazi Germans if caught.
He thought of Mussolini as being a man who could had done a great deal for his country, instead he ruined it with his ruthless ambition.
To be continued