There was a time when Italy, perhaps drugged by ideas of power very common in Europe, thought it could return to being an Empire, so in the 1935 and 1936 embarked on its African adventure.
Few Italians remember that period, but if you wander around the flea markets you may come across some memory of the time that was, as happened to me.
I flipped through a bunch of old postcards looking for some stamps to add to my collection when I was attracted to an East African post card.
It took little to understand that it was a postcard from East Africa.
The writer is the corporal Major Ciani, under the 4 ° Infantry of the division peloritana, which evidently was at that time in Dire Dawa, Ethiopia.
These are a few words of greeting to the family in response to a telegram of good wishes. Who knows if the boy managed to return from the war and hug his family again.
I continue to rummage through the papers, intrigued, looking for some other piece of history.
I find a letter from a soldier, Andrea, who writes to Miss Anna in Rome. He writes from the Gobat valley, I believe he is in Eritrea. This time it is a beautiful letter that I want to report in full, in fact our soldiers were not always engaged in war actions, even if war is always present, and what I read makes me reflect.
(My only changes are to correct some misspellings to not always present punctuation)
"Dearest Anna,
also yesterday a beautiful march towards new shores and now we are standing on the tops of two mountains. At our feet there is a beautiful valley and, as they say, this is where we have to wait for the enemy and make a mess of it.
Even yesterday, during our journey all the Tempien villages were full of white flags and the natives were waiting for us in droves and greeted them with very sharp cries that one of our soprano would never have dreamed of doing.
In a village I met on my way I went to see if I could buy chickens and found three. I gave him ten pounds of paper but they didn't want them, so I searched my pockets and found two four-dollar coins and took back the ten lire and gave him the eight money. They, all happy, began to dance. While an airplane passed, they all threw themselves on the ground and covered their faces. I immediately caught the inspiration. I saw a chicken that had remained in the hands of one of those, I pulled it away and left. After taking a hundred steps I turned back but no one had moved, they were all still prostrate. You will blame me but, what do you want, four Abyssinian chickens with eight Italian money were well paid and then I had a mitigating factor, it was a long time since I had eaten any more."
The letter continues with the ritual greetings ...
I hope that Andrea managed to return from the Italian adventure in Africa and was able to embrace Miss Anna again.
Unfortunately, many have never returned from their families. Instead, I expect to return to the flea market stalls, perhaps next week, in search of other moments of real life, which in their simplicity deserve to be remembered.
