I remember hearing about Abruzzo’s earthquake last fall while at school and thought, “Thank God it wasn’t Florence,” selfishly caring about my future abroad plans. I read a brief article about the tragedy and moved on with my life. Little did I know that, almost 11 months later, a trip to Abruzzo would be the highlight of my abroad experience.
I awoke at 4:30 am to an obnoxious alarm last Saturday, February 20, almost regretting my decision to go on such a journey: traveling on a tight coach bus, for about five hours south of Firenze. But I sucked it up, and caught the 5:30am coach to Abruzzo.
When we arrived in Abruzzo’s capital, L’Aquila, we were greeted by an organization called Caritas Italiana, one of the biggest volunteer programs, established after the quake. I expected I was going to work with the 15 students that left SUF, we me, that Saturday morning. Instead, I ended up working with numerous Italian students for two straight days, sorting clothing, cleaning kitchens, playing with children, singing at a children’s mass. We even learned some Italian songs and dances from our Italian peers. I built an entire fence for a recently built church in three hours and used a sledgehammer for the first time (had to throw that in here!) in my life. My other peers did similar tasks: some placed wooden panels on church floors, some helped victims move out of their apartments, others painted sidings on a house, and some shoveled out the foundation for new buildings.
During all of this work, a friendship formed between the Italian and American students. After all, most car rides to certain work sites involved seven or eight of us squeezed together in the back of a truck or lime green buggy—it was pretty impossible not to grow close. Some of them are 19, some are 21, and some are 24. I thought they were much older and worked here. But, in reality, they were students, like us, who on their spring break, decided to come here for two weeks instead of going on vacation. They are people with real jobs and families in Rome, Ancora, Perugia or Florence, who basically put their lives on hold to come here and work for free. And they were so happy to do it. And the quake victims were happy, too. They’d come and go all weekend to get pieces of clothing and some food. Then they would stop to talk to us, asking questions about our lives and why we were here.
And as we worked, and talked, the mountains surrounded us. Endless snow topped mountains faded into the horizon, with the sun shining down on us. And some light rain that fell down on here and there. The view was incredible. There was beauty everywhere you looked.
And the closer we got to the people of Abruzzo, the more we learned. Abruzzo may be beautiful, but it’s also a beautiful disaster. On the last day, we visited the center of L’Aquila, where the epicenter hit last year. Two words: ghost town. It’s been almost a year, and rubble remains on the ground, stores are completely shut down, and all there is to see is darkness, all there is to feel is emptiness. People are cooped up in hotels, families are separated, and houses remain destroyed; so destroyed that mattresses are still hanging out from broken windows in the city’s residential areas. The entire cathedral of L’Aquila is crumbling. The roof is gone, the altar is cracked, and the walls are deteriorating. Some say life here will never be the same. Others say there is no life left.
But, I say differently. Caritas Italiana breathes life back into Abruzzo every single day. They have hope, and faith, and more passion for this city than I could’ve ever imagined. And they treated us as equals. They didn’t command us to do work, or yell at us when we didn’t understand. In fact, the language barrier wasn’t a barrier at all. It was as if we all shared the same language for one weekend; it was a language of laughter, of hugs, of tears, and most of all, a language of love.
Throughout the weekend, most of us were anxious to know exactly what we had to do and what time we had to do it. My Italian friend Aurora just laughed. Knowing a bit of English, she told us, “I’m really not sure, we just have to wait and see.” We looked puzzled. “You don’t always need to know when. I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow or later today,” she said. “You just wait and see. You just live.”
Dove sarò domani che ne sarà dei miei sogni infranti, dei miei piani*
Well, now I can say I truly lived that weekend. I had no idea what I’d be doing next or what this weekend would bring me. And that was the best way to do it. I gave them my hands, and they gave me a new pair of eyes. At 21 years old, I helped the victims of a devastating earthquake, and these victims helped me to learn how much to appreciate my life; not to take any moment for granted, because I could be gone tomorrow. And it wasn’t some cliché lesson either. These people’s lives were destroyed in seconds, and I saw the aftermath with my own eyes. I felt lucky to be alive, let alone spending a semester in Italy.
Non siamo cosi soli a fare castelli in aria*
I left feeling useful, feeling there is some purpose to my life that goes beyond just being a student. From now on, there is no more dark storm in my life; no more negativity. Instead, there is a rainbow that tomorrow brings—the rainbow of Abruzzo that will light up tomorrow, and beyond.
Domani è già qui, domani è già qui*
[Lyrics from “Domani,” from Domani 21 Aprile 2009 - Artisti uniti per l'Abruzzo]
