It seems that in a week should happen what has not happened in 3 months. It is not so easy to keep track of the facts and remain calm in the face of so many emotions.
A few days ago, so to speak, we celebrated exactly one year from the day when I and the boys met: March 15. We celebrated it at the hamam nearby the house, one of the most unlikely and humble (and economic) in Istanbul. But the managers are very nice and the massager knows how to do his work. And then there's a family atmosphere. Moritz, the new German flatmate, was very excited by the idea and, as between low walls of a small neighborhood hamam, as first hamam experience seemed to appreciate. Çağdaş and Özhan were well shaken by the hands of the masseur, and also my joints, I must say, they sang loudly. This can be also a way to celebrate friendship.
Yesterday it started in Istanbul the World Water Forum. That is an international meeting in which corporations and governments come together to establish a table that will thirsty humanity in the coming decades. In practice, corporations expose the governments, what are the advantages and profits above all, of the transfer of management from public good to private good. And what better place than Turkey, since the construction of new dams on 2 of the most impressive and famous rivers in the world (the Tigris and Euphrates), which originate in Turkey, will be struck and the water channeled to the detriment of Syria and Iraq (which were not countries that have enjoyed the appreciation of the West, I think to remember), creating the conditions for new wars.
For this occasion, however, also came delegations from around the world to take an "Alternative Water Forum", a meeting that is animated by the social movements and organizations to affirm and reaffirm that water is not a commodity but a common good, therefore not marketable. Some dear Turkish friends, among them Ulus, asked me a couple of weeks ago, to interview Renato Di Nicola on the phone, one of the greatest exponents of the Italian movement for protection of the water. A few days ago he came to Istanbul and we could know in person. I was impressed by Renato. He is one of those people that make you be proud of being born on the Italian peninsula. "I'm an activist, I do not belong to anyone, if I have to define myself, I call myself a bridge." In my ten-year Italian experience in the social movements I have met only few people like Renato. And usually they were marginalized. Instead Renato seems able to feel "a bridge", but to be it really. Perhaps for the tremendous enthusiasm that puts in the things, and also because it is an impertinent, meaning that asks names and addresses and background to any person, record, who knows, one day on his way he will meet someone who will comfort that contact. "That means networking". And it's thanks to people like him that the Italian movement for water is one of the most robust and upset of the entire planet.
A few evenings ago, returning home past midnight, I found Renato walking through the streets around Taksim. Contrary to what he said for a couple of days ( "but why you left Italy"), I was greeted by saying: "After this walk at night I understand why you do not want to return to Italy". I was not told why, he said only that he understood. In fact there is no real reason, is something that is hard to understand without apparent reason.
But if I must be honest, a reason perhaps exists. Giovanni Scognamiglio told me. Giovanni is an elderly gentleman born and raised in Istanbul. He is a "Levantino", son of the historical Italian community of Istanbul. He speaks not only an excellent Italian, but a beautiful and ancient Italian. However, he always wrote in Turkish that he can speak as a normal Turkish citizen. He is a film critic and historian of film and still finds the strength to teach at the university here in Istanbul. He wrote about 50 books in Turkish and only a couple in Italian. This is his great regret, that his country has not noticed him. Telling the truth, in 2005, Ciampi, the then President of the Republic, named him "Cavaliere", that means "Knight", a kind of public award. So much so that there, Ciampi could ask for his books to be translated and published in Italy.
Giovanni is a man of another era, it is not difficult to understand. But he is a treasure trove. Talking with him, sitting on the sofa of his house, including old books, horror puppets (it's a fan of the genre) and stuff from all sources, in the melancholy of his eyes I felt all the hypocrisy of our country. Giovanni was betrayed by Italy, though perhaps he did not tell so. Italy to which he belongs was that Italy, perhaps only whispering under the table, but had always talked with equal dignity with the East, knew it, admired it, did business, trade, exchange practices and knowledge. Suddenly Italy was torn to its vocations most intimate and natural to be called "Atlantic Country" (which is geographically false) and we were taught to fear and distrust of everything that comes from the East. Before all this happened, Giovanni was already an Italian of the East, a "Levantino". For this he is a treasure trove, is a historical memory, he is a historical evidence, perhaps too awkward for the sirens of the slavish "Atlantic" ones that rule nowadays in Italy.
Anyway, back to why it's better in Istanbul than in Italy, Giovanni, who clearly has title in the subject, explained what makes Istanbul the best place: the disorder.
True. The disorder is everything you need. The disorder is democratic, is revolutionary. The order is dictatorial. The squares of Italy are now deserted, the people at home in their holes are scared by the TV, including immigrants soon they even don't wander in the streets anymore because of fear of the scary tales on TV. There will be only "le ronde", the patrols, kind of antechamber of bands of mercenary soldiers. And the Italians will turn into automatons.
A few days ago, so to speak, we celebrated exactly one year from the day when I and the boys met: March 15. We celebrated it at the hamam nearby the house, one of the most unlikely and humble (and economic) in Istanbul. But the managers are very nice and the massager knows how to do his work. And then there's a family atmosphere. Moritz, the new German flatmate, was very excited by the idea and, as between low walls of a small neighborhood hamam, as first hamam experience seemed to appreciate. Çağdaş and Özhan were well shaken by the hands of the masseur, and also my joints, I must say, they sang loudly. This can be also a way to celebrate friendship.
Yesterday it started in Istanbul the World Water Forum. That is an international meeting in which corporations and governments come together to establish a table that will thirsty humanity in the coming decades. In practice, corporations expose the governments, what are the advantages and profits above all, of the transfer of management from public good to private good. And what better place than Turkey, since the construction of new dams on 2 of the most impressive and famous rivers in the world (the Tigris and Euphrates), which originate in Turkey, will be struck and the water channeled to the detriment of Syria and Iraq (which were not countries that have enjoyed the appreciation of the West, I think to remember), creating the conditions for new wars.
For this occasion, however, also came delegations from around the world to take an "Alternative Water Forum", a meeting that is animated by the social movements and organizations to affirm and reaffirm that water is not a commodity but a common good, therefore not marketable. Some dear Turkish friends, among them Ulus, asked me a couple of weeks ago, to interview Renato Di Nicola on the phone, one of the greatest exponents of the Italian movement for protection of the water. A few days ago he came to Istanbul and we could know in person. I was impressed by Renato. He is one of those people that make you be proud of being born on the Italian peninsula. "I'm an activist, I do not belong to anyone, if I have to define myself, I call myself a bridge." In my ten-year Italian experience in the social movements I have met only few people like Renato. And usually they were marginalized. Instead Renato seems able to feel "a bridge", but to be it really. Perhaps for the tremendous enthusiasm that puts in the things, and also because it is an impertinent, meaning that asks names and addresses and background to any person, record, who knows, one day on his way he will meet someone who will comfort that contact. "That means networking". And it's thanks to people like him that the Italian movement for water is one of the most robust and upset of the entire planet.
A few evenings ago, returning home past midnight, I found Renato walking through the streets around Taksim. Contrary to what he said for a couple of days ( "but why you left Italy"), I was greeted by saying: "After this walk at night I understand why you do not want to return to Italy". I was not told why, he said only that he understood. In fact there is no real reason, is something that is hard to understand without apparent reason.
But if I must be honest, a reason perhaps exists. Giovanni Scognamiglio told me. Giovanni is an elderly gentleman born and raised in Istanbul. He is a "Levantino", son of the historical Italian community of Istanbul. He speaks not only an excellent Italian, but a beautiful and ancient Italian. However, he always wrote in Turkish that he can speak as a normal Turkish citizen. He is a film critic and historian of film and still finds the strength to teach at the university here in Istanbul. He wrote about 50 books in Turkish and only a couple in Italian. This is his great regret, that his country has not noticed him. Telling the truth, in 2005, Ciampi, the then President of the Republic, named him "Cavaliere", that means "Knight", a kind of public award. So much so that there, Ciampi could ask for his books to be translated and published in Italy.
Giovanni is a man of another era, it is not difficult to understand. But he is a treasure trove. Talking with him, sitting on the sofa of his house, including old books, horror puppets (it's a fan of the genre) and stuff from all sources, in the melancholy of his eyes I felt all the hypocrisy of our country. Giovanni was betrayed by Italy, though perhaps he did not tell so. Italy to which he belongs was that Italy, perhaps only whispering under the table, but had always talked with equal dignity with the East, knew it, admired it, did business, trade, exchange practices and knowledge. Suddenly Italy was torn to its vocations most intimate and natural to be called "Atlantic Country" (which is geographically false) and we were taught to fear and distrust of everything that comes from the East. Before all this happened, Giovanni was already an Italian of the East, a "Levantino". For this he is a treasure trove, is a historical memory, he is a historical evidence, perhaps too awkward for the sirens of the slavish "Atlantic" ones that rule nowadays in Italy.
Anyway, back to why it's better in Istanbul than in Italy, Giovanni, who clearly has title in the subject, explained what makes Istanbul the best place: the disorder.
True. The disorder is everything you need. The disorder is democratic, is revolutionary. The order is dictatorial. The squares of Italy are now deserted, the people at home in their holes are scared by the TV, including immigrants soon they even don't wander in the streets anymore because of fear of the scary tales on TV. There will be only "le ronde", the patrols, kind of antechamber of bands of mercenary soldiers. And the Italians will turn into automatons.
Back at home in the middle of the night and feel that there is a life that is full, that every corner you turn you may find the most incredible person in the world, that in any club or pub between the thousands that are there you will find somebody drinking tea with a cigarette in hand and the other one who plays an instrument, that from the window of the neighbors even at night there is someone who plays the violin, and then when ascending the stairs at home at 3 in the night, fuck, you can never sleep because the Bandista, my flatmates, are still playing their songs. All this makes me alive, makes me free. "Once we arrive, it is not easy to get out of Istanbul. I was born here and, as you see, I am still here". These are my forgotten Italian fathers.
