La terra trema

http://www.boingboing.net/2009/04/08/jasmina-tesanovic-ea.html

na srpskom, in English

Ovde u severnoj Italiji, prespavali smo veliki zemljotres u Akvili koja je lep stari mali grad sada potpuno u rušrevinama. Moj agent, njegova žena i mačka bili su u Rimu, sto kilometara od epicentra. Skočio je iz kreveta rano ujutru 6. aprila. Telefonirao mi je nekoliko sati kasnije: ovo je kao bombardovanje, kaže. 
Dok ovo pišem, gledam RAI2 kanal: pričaju o prirodnim nepogodama i dva nova snažna potresa drmaju njihovu TV ekipu. Dve zgrade u Akvili, od mnogih istorijskih renesansnih i baroknih kuća – stenju i do pola se urušavaju. TV ekipa se prebacuje na bezbednije mesto.

U jeku je velika debata: sve o mrtvima, ranjenima, rekonstrukciji, solidarnosti, budućnosti. Paralelno ide jedna tipična italijanska rasprava: takozvani naučnik tvrdi da je predvideo potres. Drugi seizmolozi tvrde da je predviđanje nemoguće iako je nedelju dana ranije bilo podrhvtavanja i očekivao se glavni udar. 
Psiholog govori o Bogu pod ruševinama, skoro vrišti dok propoveda mir mrtvima i pomoć živima. Političar poziva na obnovu jedinstva veoma podeljenog i posvađanog italijanskog društva. Berluskoni, desničarski predsednik objavio je vanredno stanje u regionu čim se vratio iz Londona sa samita G20 gde je morao da se petlja sa prvorazrednim političarima sveta. Dok je Berluskoni bio odsutan odigrao se ogroman protest opozicije u Rimu protiv njegovog praznog poricanja italijanske finansijske krize. Ali je onda ova iznenadna prirodna nepogoda zamenila temu: Italija je zemljište sklono zemljotresima i vulkanima. Poznajem ratnog izveštača koji je sazidao lepu vilu ispod Etne. Preživeo je mnoge ratove i zemljotrese i na kraju umro od previše hrane i vina ispod svog najmilijeg vulkana.

Sedamdesetih godina u Frijuliu u severnoj Italiji, jak zemljotres je pobio hiljade ljudi. Ja sam tada bila u Milanu. Sećam se kako smo drhtali sa tim izbeglicama. Italijanska solidarnost je pritekla u pomoć preživelima. Svi Italijani su survajveri.

U Akvili, čuveni istorijski spomenici su srušeni ili u kolapsu, umetnine su rasute i čekaju da ih pogaze ili pokradu. Spasilačke ekipe metodično pretražuju nadajući se još uvek da će naći žive. Ljudi spavaju pod šatorima moleći boga za lepo vreme. U Italiju još uvek nije stiglo pravo proleće. Prognoziraju još kiša, čak poplave.

Dok gledam televiziju, znam da ovo nije naučno fantastični film katastrofe, ovo je novi realizam. Baš sinoć mi je ista ta televizija pustila stari film sa Anom Manjani: kasne 40-te posle rata Italija. Potpuno je drugačije: dobri su momci pobedili loše. Postojala je nada. Gledam ove high tech spasilačke jedinice, ambulantna kola sa teškom opremom i piskavim italijanskim sirenama, političare u Armani odelima sa Misoni kravatama, plavokose seksi spikerke sa hirurški sređenim usnama, svi jurcaju kroz ruševine, a ja osećam zebnju. Gde su stvarni ljudi? Što god da je to što je postao normalan život? Trenirani psi njuškaju za normalnim životom ispod krhotina.

Marta, dvadeset četiri godine, spasli su je posle 23 sata sofisticirane post-katastrofalne portage. Tehničari za katastrofe prostrugali su metal, stresli krhotine i doprli: njen slomljeni glasić iz slomljenog tela: grazie ragazzi, grazie! Majka i otac bez glasa čekaju da dete ponovo izađe iz njihove smrskane kuće: nadaju se još uvek da je živa, ali italijansko tle još podrhtava.

Scene primordijalne traume, kao Pompeji. Zemlja se pod nama otvori i prirodi ne možemo ništa. Je li to još uvek istina? Ne zvuči baš moderno.

Jedan preživeli u reality talk show, novinar, jeca, priča kako je njegov kolega saznao da mu je poginulo dvoje dece. Stari siromašni ljudi sede pored svoje srušene kuće i kažu: evo nas ovde, čekamo. Ne kažu šta čekaju: možda niko ne zna. Ljudi koji imaju kola spavaju u njima. Ima i šatora, neki luksuzni, neki ne, ali nijedan kao hoteli u kojima su najsrećenije izbeglice ipak nesrećne. Žrtve pričaju u šoku, pokušavaju da se sete detalja iz života, pokušavaju da se sete šta su izgubili: govore detaljno, kao izbeglice iz Katrine, sa Kosova ili iz Bosne. Bilo koji memento iz razorene kuće – kao sto je kamičak – vredi više od dragulja. Spašena fotografija je dragocenija od hrane. Ljudi love po kršu ono što će im u budućnosti biti vredno.

Volonteri stižu sa svih strana. Bolnica je u kolapsu. Mudraci traže high tech senzore, novinari postavljaju uobičajena pitanja. Ceo svet te glada, Italijo: zabrinut za sudbinu stranih turista, stanih studenata… čak je i moj mejl pun stranaca koji me pitaju: kako živiš u Italiji? U Italiji živim u solidarnosti sa Italijom.

Berluskoni kaže izbeglicama: idite u hotel na moru za uskrs, uživajte! Mi ćemo da platimo! Njegove šale prevazilaze neukus!

Earthquake in Italy

Here in northern Italy, we overslept the big earthquake in L’Aquila, which is a beautiful, ancient small town now completely in ruins. My agent, his wife and his cat were in Rome one hundred kilometers from the epicenter. He jumped out of his bed at the early hours of 6th April. He phoned me a few hours later: this is like a bombing, he said.

As I write this, I am watching RAI 2 channel: they talk of natural disasters, and two, new, strong quakes shake their TV crew. Two buildings in L’Aquila — among many historic town buildings from the Renaissance and Baroque — groan and half-collapse. The TV crew shifts to a safer spot.

A big debate is going on: all about the dead, the wounded, the reconstruction, the solidarity, the future. But a very Italian debate parallels it: a so-called scientist claims he predicted this quake. Other seismologists claim it is impossible to predict any such thing, even though there were tremors a week ago, and a major one was expected.

A psychologist is speaking of God under the ruins. He is almost screaming while preaching peace for the dead and aid for the survivors. A politician is asking for renewed unity for a very split and quarrelsome Italian society. Berlsusconi, the right wing president, declared an emergency state in that region, as soon as he returned from G20 in London where he had to mingle with the first-class of world politicians. While Berlusconi was away there was a huge rally of the opposition in Rome against his bland denial of the Italian financial crisis. But then this sudden natural disaster changed the subject: Italy is always a landscape prone to earthquakes and volcanoes. I know a war journalist who build a beautiful mansion under the volcano Etna. He survived many wars and eruptions, yet he died of a too much food and wine under his favorite volcano.

In the seventies in Friuli, northern Italy a massive earthquake killed thousands. I remember being in Milan in those days. We trembled with those refugees. Italian solidarity aided the survivors. All Italians are survivors.

In L’Aquila, famous historical monuments are down or half-collapsed, art objects are scattered and waiting to be trampled or looted. Rescue troops search methodically, still hoping for survivors. People sleep under tents praying for good weather. Italy has not seen a true spring yet. More rain is forecast, even floods.

As I watch the TV, I know this is not a science fiction disaster movie, this is the new realism. Only last night the same television showed me an old movie with Ana Magnani: the post war late 1940s in Italy. It seemed so different: the good guys had defeated the bad guys. There was hope. Watching these high tech rescue squads, ambulances heavy with gear and with high pitched Italian sirens, politicians in Armani suits with Missoni ties, blonde sexy news announcers with cosmetic lip surgery, all scampering among the ruins, I feel uneasy. Where are the real people? Whatever became of normal life? Trained dogs sniff for normal life beneath the rubble.

Marta, a 24-year-old, has been saved after 23 hours of advanced post-disaster research. The disaster technicians sawed through metal, they pried the rubble off her: her broken voice out of the broken body: grazie ragazzi, grazie! Mother and father without voice waiting for their child to reappear from their smashed home: they still hope she is alive, but the Italian earth still trembles.

Scenes of primordial trauma, like Pompeii. That earth opens above or beneath us, and we can do nothing about nature. Can that still be the truth? It doesn’t sound very modern.

A survivor in a reality talk show , a journalist, weeps, remembers how his colleague found that two of his children were killed. Old, poor people sitting next to their destroyed building say: we are here, we are waiting. They don’t say what they await: maybe nobody knows. People owning cars sleep inside those cars. There are also tents, some tents fancier than others, though none as fancy as the hotels where the luckier refugees are still unhappy. The victims talk under shock, trying to remember the details of life, trying to remember what they lost: they speak in details, like Katrina refugees, like Kosovo or Bosnian ones. Any memento from a destroyed home — like a stone of your house — counts more than a jewel. A salvaged photo is more precious than food. People hunt through their rubble for their future values.

Volunteers are coming from all points. The hospital has collapsed. Pundits call for high tech sensors while the journalists ask the predictable questions. The whole world is watching you, Italy: anxious for the fate of the foreign tourists, foreign students… even my own email is full of foreigners asking me: how are you in Italy? I am in Italy in solidarity with Italy.

Berlusconi is telling the refugees: go to the seaside hotels for Easter, enjoy! We are paying! His jokes are beyond bad taste!

About jasminatesanovic

Jasmina Tešanović (Serbian: Јасмина Тешановић) (born March 7, 1954) is a feminist, political activist (Women in Black, Code Pink), translator, publisher and filmmaker. She was one of the organizers of the first Feminist conference in Eastern Europe "Drug-ca Zena" in 1978, in Belgrade. With Slavica Stojanovic, she ran the first feminist publishing house in the Balkans "Feminist 94" for 10 years. She is the author of Diary of a Political Idiot, a war diary written during the 1999 Kosovo War and widely distributed on the Internet. Ever since then she has been publishing all her work, diaries, stories and films on blogs and other Internet media.
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