WEBVTT

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Piera, a resident in Poggio alla Croce

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In these last few years a lot has changed

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Things were different before, people were simpler

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They often came into the centre.

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Now they stay at home,

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the village is less lived in.

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Before we were all concentrated on my shop.

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Most of the world,

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most of life took place around it.

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A place to meet, to understand each other,

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maybe argue with different opinions

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but still have a dialogue. That was life,

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in my view that really was.

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Andrea, who conceived the welcoming project

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Poggio alla Croce could be defined

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as “a small Switzerland”

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Located in a beautiful spot

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between Chianti and Valdarno

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Residents are busy at work

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and like to collaborate.

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In summer a nice festival is organized

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attracting people from both valleys

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When problems arise, like with ice in winter,

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informations flow over the internet.

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Looked like and ideal place

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Then in April 2017 the “bomb” went off:

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thirty migrants to be hosted in the “palace”,

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a former hotel middle of village

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It sounded as if a spaceship full

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of little black men was about to land

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Piera

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Black men are coming. Black men are coming.

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We are all with our hairs raised,

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very worried, me too to be honest because

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you hear a lot of good

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but also bad about these youngsters

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Andrea

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The strongest reaction, intense and wide,

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was an immediate refusal,

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a “belly” reaction that caused

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an immediate decision

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to collect signatures against,

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in less than three days

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230 signatures were collected

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Even though the Poggio’s residents

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are around 190.

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Attilia, a teacher in the the school for migrants

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A first meeting was held

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one and half year ago in summer

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before the migrants arrived,

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so we did not know them

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They had no face for us, they had no name

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I don’t live in Poggio alla Croce,

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I come from a nearby village

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During the meeting there were

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some very aggressive people,

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I guess they were sincerely scared

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Martin, parson of Poggio alla Croce

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Their reaction was not due to being bad.

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Behind there was also a reality

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that must be told. It must be told that

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none was pepared because none

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had been alerted that these foreigner,

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these migrants were coming

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Paolo, a resident in Poggio alla Croce

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Someone started collecting signatures,

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and I agreed only because I wanted to know

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where would these kids be hosted,

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what did they come for then it became

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clear that this was not the reason

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they did not want to welcome them

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So I said my signature was extorted

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and was not in agreement any more

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Luana, a resident in Poggio alla Croce

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They told us

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“in a year time we’ll remind you of this..

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we are scared..

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I have an 18months old little girl

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who won’t be able to walk the streets anymore”

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But I refused to sign in

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and became the black sheep

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Paolo

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They are black, and that may be difficult to fathom

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Integration is not easy, not easy.

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Also on their side

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Attilia

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There was a bad feeling around,

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a terrible atmosphere

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My legs trembled, truly.

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I recognized kids that I knew

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when they were little children.

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And now as grown ups they were scared

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and said they did not want the migrants

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because their life would change,

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it would not be possible

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anymore to go quietly around in Poggio.

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No more walkabouts but they shouted

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all this in a really aggressive way..

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and I started to tremble and was unable

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to tell what I meant,

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that I felt very sorry to see children

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who had grown up together

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accustomed to sharing…and I remember

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there were also coloured children

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in our classes and they all played together

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And now I was frightened

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by what they had become

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Was more scared of them than

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of the coming migrants because

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I could sense a rage and violence

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that really frightened me

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Andrea

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When the spaceship

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with its little black men finally landed

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we managed to organize

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a first meeting in a room under

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the church that our parson Martin

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put at our disposal

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for the whole project.

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Sitting on chairs in a circle

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all mixed up some of us,

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some of them, we played a bit.

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We sticked a piece of paper on the wall

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and each and one of us started to write

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“Andrea Formiconi, italian, speaks italian”

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Then casually pointed the felt-pen towards

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one or the other and they wrote in turn

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Each and one of us wrote his name,

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which country he came from,

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which language he spoke,,,

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A simple exercise that opened

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a whole world, a universe

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because it turned out that with

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fourteen-fifteen of them there were

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twelve-thrteen languages spoken

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That some of them were illiterate,

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you could tell by the unlikely way they

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brandished the feltpen in their hands,

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In fact they did not write but

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drew their name. At the same time

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some of them attended school

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and to one exreme there was one kid

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that had escaped while in his fourth year

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of Mathematics at university.

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This helps understand the enormous

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fan of different human stories and situations

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hiding behind this stereotype that we call

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with just one name: the migrant..

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which prompts the image of one

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little black man, the same, and his

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standard story.

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Absolutely not like that !

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Malo’, a teacher in the school for mugrants

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Three of us that embarked in this adventure

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of the “little school of Poggio alla Croce”

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without really knowing what to expect.

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We felt the urge to do something

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to help these youngsters,

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and we thought that teaching them

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italian language was the thing to do

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also to improve their trust in themselves.

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As we are scared of them blacks,

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they are scared of us whites

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They are afraid of us.

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The funny thing is that a lot of people

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were involved who had nothing .

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to do with teaching.

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People like Marcie who is canadian

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with very little italian but

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she taught italian.. and Willy

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who is still with us who reads

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and does dictation

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and anything else with them