Una giornata italiana

The other day was an Italian day - a reminder of Eritrea's colonial past. On my way for the afternoon cappuccino e dolce I passed four really quite old men working on digging up the pavement, so preparing a "kemay we'elkum" (well you have to say hello to people in this town) I was a bit taken aback by the barrage of Italian "Buongiorno, parla italiano? Come si chiama?" this is from guys with hugely infectious smiles but hardly a tooth between them - "Mi chiamo Phil e non parlo bene italiano, sono inglese" my usual response to all that ... but it didn't deter them.

As I think we've said before children always want to practice a little bit of English with us even if it's only "Hi, how are you?". That same evening we were walking our usual route home across Avenue BDHO, weave a bit, turn right at the donkey track, pass near Alfa Romeo and the San Francesco church and on a bit - when there was a 'hi' from a small girl in a gateway just at the side of Den Den school. An old lady who was with her explained that the girl "parla un poquino inglese ma e alluna alla scuola italiana di Asmara". It really was an Italian day it seemed.

She then went on to tell us something of her own story delivered, a little surreally given she was in traditional dress, in fluent Italian. She explained that Asmara in the past was much more beautiful, that the schoolchildren were more polite (not sure how that could be, they seem so polite now) and that there was no crime (there's very little now compared to almost anywhere in the world). Also how she had lived in Rome for 30 years and now comes and goes from time to time, how she has had the same house in Asmara for 50 years and how Den Den school was once covered in marble (as Il Collegio La Salle) - it does have a rather unfinished air about now, so now I'm keen to know it's history.

And then ... the sad part - how one of her sons was killed in the war, how two (I think) were wounded, how one of then now lives in "Germania" as a member of Eritrea's diaspora. For all that history she still seemed very cheerful, and her story is common amongst older eritreans I'm told, furthermore we are invited for a coffee at her house "un giorno" - this will happen since we walk past her door four times a day and such invitations are meant.

P