So begins Maria Martinelli’s life story.[1]
I came to know Maria through her memoir Nonna’s Story, loaned to me by a mutual
friend. When I call at her home in Hamilton, I notice high on her bookcase the
biggest Thesaurus I have ever seen. That’s a clue as to how this first
generation migrant woman, who wasn’t able to seriously study the English language
until she was in her early thirties, could write a book.
Self sufficiency is a word that has been used
loosely ever since the1960s, when it became a lifestyle aspiration of the hippy
generation. If you’ve watched The Gourmet
Farmer on SBS television, you’ll notice it is still an aspiration even for
more affluent people, like the show’s creator, hobby farmer and former
restaurant reviewer Matthew Evans.
The self sufficiency I learned about from Maria’s
detailed account of her first 19 years on a small farm in Italy is something
else entirely. It’s not a hobby to dabble in, it’s not a supplement to the
shops down the road – this is real life survival. Maria learned everything,
from weaving and dying cloth for their bed linen and clothes, to baking daily
bread for the large family, to being a builder’s labourer on their home
extension project after World War II. It is no wonder that Maria became just the second Italian
woman she knew of in Newcastle to gain her driver’s license – at the age of 30.
Maria’s family home was on the highlands of the
Tronto Valley, with spectacular views of rich, fertile farmlands and in the far
distance, the snow-capped Appennini Mountains. In winter, a mantle of snow
covered her home, at night lit only by a kerosene lamp.
Farm animals were integral to a self-sufficient
lifestyle. The stall for 4-5 cows was tucked into the hillside under the bedroom
shared by the seven boys, with the generated heat keeping them warm on freezing
winter nights. Cleanliness and hygiene were impeccable. It was the children’s
responsibility to brush and feed the cows every day, as well as feed the other
animals - 2 pigs and their piglets,10 sheep, 20 hens and a rooster. Waste was
scrupulously cleaned from the animal compartments and barrowed to the manure
tub, while straw bedding for the animals was regularly refreshed.
There was no running water, electricity, or
public transport for travel to nearby villages, towns or the city. There would
have been little cash to buy things anyway.
There was a large vegetable garden, an orchard
of fruit trees, a vineyard, and olive trees. The soil was tilled for wheat and
corn by a cow-drawn plough - the main
reason the family kept cattle.
An Italian
farmer ploughing in the Volturno River area,
near the Italian Front in World
War II, 4 April 1944
Photograph by George Kaye, unrestricted access
courtesy of
National Library of New Zealand
Crops were harvested by hand, and everything
grown on the farm was processed, then stored in the ‘cantina’ or cellar for
family use. Not just wheat and corn, but also legumes, potatoes, preserved
vegetables and fruit, lard and processed meats like salami, and prosciutto
sustained the family through the long cold winters.
The family even had a cannabis plantation.
Harvested plants would be soaked in water for a week until they rotted, dried
in the sun to resemble straw which was then beaten until it became fluffy. The
fibre would be brushed, spun into thread by hand and woven on a loom. The
material was used to make such essentials as grain bags, mattress sacks, bath
towels, paper, string, and shoelaces.
Mattresses were stuffed with corn cob leaves,
replaced and freshened each year. The five girls slept in a big bed in their
parents’ room, often keeping them awake with their giggling and chattering.
The whole family worked hard, none less so than
Maria’s parents, Giacomina and Giovanni Ciccanti. Giocomina had only one and a
half years of schooling but was a gifted and respected healer, often called
upon in her community to deliver babies or fix broken bones and dislocated
limbs, using ‘body packs’ made from woven cannabis. Giovanni had fought in
World War I and travelled widely, including to North America. In that time he picked
up a smattering of English and other languages.
When World War II broke out, things began to
change for the family. Two of Maria’s older brothers, Domenico and Leo, joined
the army. Maria turned 7, and started school. Mussolini was in power.
Maria and her family witnessed terrifying
scenes on the road below their house. Soldiers were unloaded from army trucks,
shot and their bodies burned.
It was not unusual for young soldiers to seek
food and shelter at farmhouses like theirs – Maria’s parents never refused any
of them, whichever side they fought on.
Maria enjoyed school immensely, even though in
winter, she was sometimes so cold in the unheated classroom that she could barely
hold her pen. At night, she did her homework on the kitchen table, under a
kerosene lamp. Pencils were treasured possessions, so she was careful not to
wear hers out too soon.
While just 3 years schooling was compulsory, Maria
passed a test to become eligible to undertake 4th and 5th
class at the next village. It was a four kilometre walk there, and another 4 kilometres
home.
Maria remembers that they never washed their
hair – a drop of olive oil was massaged in to the scalp, hair was brushed
briskly and then combed to remove dust before it was plaited.
‘Our hair always looked and felt very soft,
shiny and clean after brushing,’ writes Maria. ‘Our teeth were never brushed,
either. The fresh fruit and crispy raw vegetables were our teeth cleaners.’ [2]
Although the family was fortunate enough to
have a spring on their land, water was precious. It had to be carried back to
the house several times a day to meet the family’s needs.
About ten minutes walk from the house was a
pond. Kneeling on the bank, Giacomina would labour over the family washing,
helped by her daughters as soon as they were old enough. But first, the soiled bed
linen, towels, table clothes and clothes would be carried on their heads to the
pond. Half the day would be spent washing, scrubbing, and rinsing.
Next, a fire would be lit under a 50 litre
boiler, to which 3 kgs of ash, preserved from winter firewood, would be added.
That boiling, ashy water would be bucketed into a wooden tub, containing washed
items that needed bleaching and disinfecting. The following day, it was back to
the pond to rinse everything, spreading the washing out in the sun to dry on
the grass or over shrubs.
Winter was the time when inside work was done.
The men repaired tools, and made the cane baskets used to carry fruit and
vegetables, or soiled and clean clothes., The women wove all the material needed
for bed linen and clothes on a large loom, and then dyed the work clothes. At
winter’s end, a tailor and dressmaker would be hired for a week to make
dresses, shirts and work trousers for everyone.
This
loom, being used by a workshop participant learning traditional
weaving
in Italy today, is similar to that remembered by Maria
Martinelli
http://italysustainabletravel.blogspot.com.au/2013/01/tappeti-di-armungia-casa-lussu.html
After the sheep had been shorn, and wool spun
of a spinning wheel, jumpers and socks were knitted. Sheets and pillowcases
were painstakingly embroidered.
Maria had a strict Catholic upbringing, attending
Sunday School and mass in the parish church that was actually situated on their
farm.
‘Unfortunately the rules of our church were so
strict that almost everything was a sin,’ she writes.[3]
Even as a child, she had a healthy skepticism, detecting contradictions and a
lack of logic in some of the teachings and practices of the church. Nevertheless,
her brother Albino trained as a priest, and two sisters, Giuseppina and Linda, became
nuns.
When Maria left school, she joined the family
workforce on the farm. She was able to shoulder much of the workload borne by
her hard working mother.
The end of the war brought many changes. Tractors
replaced cows for ploughing, sowing and reaping the crops. People no longer
wanted to remain on farms, as the money pouring in for the post-war
reconstruction of Italy meant they could work for wages.
In the meantime, the Italian government began
to upgrade rural areas, installing electricity and water fountains (water was
not yet supplied to houses), improving roads and providing buses to the city of
Ascoli Piceno. Maria’s parents took advantage of a government subsidy to
improve their house and land. Maria and three brothers helped their father build
‘a new house to be proud of.’ A structure was built around the pond so that the
women could stand while doing the washing; they no longer had to kneel.
Two of Maria’s sisters, Rosa and Noemi, found
work in Milan. When Noemi visited home and saw the wonderful improvements, she
bought the family a new four burner gas stove. With this luxury, it was no
longer necessary to light a wood fire every day.
Three brothers had found work as builders’
labourers. With money coming into the household, Maria recalls they had the
best of both worlds – ‘fresh, organic food, spring water and clean air, and
money. My brothers and I were all much better dressed than our older siblings
had been.’ [4] It
was nothing to jump on the back of her brother Ottavio’s motor bike, and ride
to the city or a village dance. ‘These were, for me, the good old days,’ she
writes. ‘Full time farm work was becoming a thing of the past.’
What was to follow would be a very, very
different life experience for this capable, confident teenage farm girl.
An older brother Domenico, now discharged from
the army, searched for a job. Drawn to the Australian government’s offer of a
free passage and work, he decided to emigrate.
Twenty other young men from the area went too. It was 1952.
In Newcastle, Domenico was soon employed at BHP,
and able to sponsor his sister Rosa to Australia. While waiting for his new
wife Evelina to travel from Italy, Domenico decided to also sponsor his sisters
Maria and Noemi. They embarked on the ship ‘Aurelia’ on 28 May, 1958. The
girls’ ‘glory boxes’ containing embroidered sheets and everything they would
bring to a possible future marriage were to follow later.
Bound
for Australia on the ship ‘Aurelia’ – sisters Noemi (L) and Maria (R) Ciccanti
with shipboard friends, 1958
Photograph
courtesy of Maria Martinelli
Domenico had bought a house, and had taken
three young Italian immigrants as boarders. His wife Evelina had finally arrived,
and Maria and Noemi shared the third bedroom.
The sisters enrolled in evening English
classes, where they began to learn the basics of the language. After a couple
of months, Maria found shift work in ELMA,[5]
an electric lamp factory in Hamilton North. She was not able to continue the
classes.
Word spread quickly in BHP about the newly
arrived single girls. Through Domenico, Maria met Nelio Martinelli, who had come
to Australia in 1955 from Lettopalena, a small village in Abbruzzi, Italy. As
so many community members had migrated here from that town, he had the benefit
of a large friendship network in Newcastle. [6]
Nelio and Maria became engaged to marry.
Maria no longer felt the confidence she’d
enjoyed at home; she struggled with the language and the uncertainty of her
future in this new country. ‘I knew once I was married, there would have been
no point in going back to Italy,’ she writes, ‘as I could no longer live at
home with my loved ones.’[7]
Maria and Nelio married on 25 July, 1959, three
months after they had met. Their wedding reception was at Anzac House in Tudor
Street, Hamilton, once the historic Mechanics’ Institute.
Maria
and Nelio Martinelli enjoy a picnic with their
firstborn son Vincenzo, 1961
Photograph
courtesy of Maria Martinelli
Together they would have four children –
Vincenzo, Anna, Renato and Giovanni. They would take in boarders, and work
‘like machines,’ as homemakers and at various jobs. Their children were educated
at Catholic schools. Houses would be bought and sold until in 1970 they found a
house in Hamilton that had all the comforts Maria dreamed of – especially a hot
water system, and an indoor laundry and toilet. It’s where they still live
today.
As a busy young mother unable to speak much
English, Maria would experience loneliness and isolation - until she eventually
found she could make friends after all. She seized her independence and got a
driving license. In 1968 she began attending an ESL class in the Italian Centre in Beaumont Street, Hamilton. When she followed this up with a
correspondence course after the birth of her third child, there was no stopping
Maria Martinelli in her determination not just to improve her English, but to
master it. In early 1978, as her children returned to school, Maria enrolled in
the Newcastle Technical College and began an intensive English course. In time,
she graduated with a Certificate 4 in English Language.
Maria
giving a speech to her English language class at
Newcastle TAFE, 1997
Photograph
courtesy of Maria Martinelli
A thirst for learning, knowledge and self
awareness led Maria to later complete many of the free courses offered by
Lifeline.
Maria
Martinelli (R) with her four children – L-R Vincenzo, Anna, Renato,
Giovanni, September, 1973
Photograph
courtesy of Maria Martinelli
In 1984, Maria felt a strong desire to return
to Italy and see her parents. Nelio was willing, so they made plans
immediately. It would be 26 years since Maria had seen her family.
Once there, Maria was shocked and saddened to
see that the farms of her childhood had become neglected or totally abandoned.
There was far more change than she had imagined. When Maria’s father Giovanni
became paralyzed on one side as a result of a lightning strike, her parents had
to leave the farm and move to the city to live. Maria found her mother Giacomina
suffering from dementia, unable to recognize Maria as her daughter. Yet the
homecoming, meeting once more family members who had stayed on in Italy was
joyous and memorable.
Those
who remained behind – Maria’s 8 siblings with Giovanni and
Giacomina Ciccanti at their
parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, 1970
Giovanni
passed away the following year, in 1971
Photograph
courtesy of Maria Martinelli
Soon after their return to Australia, Maria received
news of her mother’s death. Now, she understood why she had felt such a
strong urge to go back home.
When Maria reached retirement age, she wrote
and published her life story. ‘It goes without saying,’ she writes modestly,
‘that my life, lived in two different countries, could not possibly have been
very easy.’ [8]
Reading Maria’s story also demonstrated
convincingly – as if I needed proof – why Australia’s industrious and hard
working immigrants from Italy, Greece, Macedonia and elsewhere have left such
an indelible mark on Hamilton. Those small landholders who have truly practiced
self sufficiency possessed a formidable range of practical skills that have
been passed down the generations. Even if those skills are not used directly in
their new country, they become – in human relations jargon – transferable skills, to be adapted and
applied in different settings.
In writing her memoir, Maria wanted her
children and her grandchildren, and those who follow, to understand where she
came from, and how very different her childhood was from theirs. Maria’s lived
life and her writing achievement honours the devotion of her own parents. It is
a gift and an inspiration not just for her immediate family and friends, but
for all of us.
Writing
pads filled with Maria’s flowing script became
the manuscript for
‘Nonna’s Story’
Acknowledgement
Thank
you to Maria Martinelli for sharing her story and photographs.
‘Nonna’s Story’ is a beautifully written account of Maria's first 19 years growing up on a subsistence farm in rural Italy before and after World War II. It is available in Hamilton from MacLeans Booksellers (on inquiry).
[6] The
story of the devastation by the Germans in WWII of the village Lettapaleno is
readily available on the internet.
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