To be Franca in Milan
Punctually, at eight o’clock in the morning on a Wednesday in August, she showed off in her best casual outfit: black purse, straight grey hair arranged, a necklace with Our Lady’s medal, a wedding ring, and a watch. She was spotless and was protecting herself from the rain. “A flood”, she said. Others announced it as a sign from heaven to allow her to leave the house for a trip. “The path was being cleared”, it was heard from others.
She always wanted to go to the Duomo, the cathedral. But in her words, “Milan is for ladies and gentlemen.” Franca is a 75-year-old Italian woman who works in the fields every day, in the sun, rain, or snow. She takes care of the farming, the animals, the house, the food, everyone. Her skin is caressed by time, and her hands are framed by work in the fields.
She is always at home and bears the trauma of having gone out once, for a New Year’s dinner with her deceased spouse at her relatives’ house, when a fire devastated everything they had. The husband worked to rebuild the wreckage and then left this land because of the grief he suffered.
Two children of different dispositions. Otello, the youngest, single, companion, and of exemplary behaviour, was also suddenly gone when his heart stopped beating. Franca lost the ground. Her life was established on the margins of these men. And even today, when asked to go for a walk, she said she would ask her eldest son if she could travel.
At the train station, she is surprised and asks her friend:
“Isn’t your husband going?”
“No.”
“Are we going alone?”
It is the first time that she has made a trip “alone,” and she remembers when she went on her honeymoon with her husband to visit an island next to the place where she lives. She starts telling the story and when she realizes the pleasure she is feeling, immediately stops talking and changes the subject. She looks at people and turns to herself, analysing herself thoroughly, becoming still and resumes talking about the rain and how brave she can be to travel like that at that age, “underwater”. She hopes that the sun will shine again.
Franca lives about 50 kilometres (31 miles) from Milan and, for some major reason, never had a chance to walk around the city. She went quickly to a funeral once. However, she says she couldn’t see anything, other than a vigil.
As soon as she arrived at the station, the sky opened. The underground lights impressed her with the train and subway system. Arthrosis and osteoporosis, limiting the movements of her legs and making her uncomfortable with her spine, made her not try the escalators. So, she used the elevators. She was saying, for those who talked with her on the train, that a foreigner was taking her to know her Italy, her own home. Irony. How could this happen?
The look of curiosity concerned with the displacement of the subway and the anxiety increased by the gloomy air of the basement were disseminated with the light that appeared at each step that reached the Cathedral square. It was as if she had seen… She had no word. There was contemplative silence in front of that Catholic monument in the Gothic style. She stood there and admired what she saw in front of her. And, little by little, the serious and modest countenance was taken by a smile, not a normal one, even though she could not show all her teeth. But one of the soul, of being. She saw herself as able to be “alone” in a city other than the one she was used to living in.
“I need to have coffee before I get there.” She needed to breathe. It was time for lunch and she sat at a restaurant in the Vittorio Emanuele II gallery. She preferred that her friend decide which dish they were going to eat. Satisfied, she said that the food was very good, first-rate.
Her life is linked to the countryside. But, with each movement, each person who appears in front of her and mentions any word of kindness or generosity makes her feel like person, makes her feel like a woman. She raises her head and realizes that she is part of what she is seeing. At the church, still halfway there, she asks “Can I stand to see all this?” She walked, sat, got up, and moved on. Not only did she see everything, but she also allowed herself to tour the city and explore other monuments, although unknown to the eyes.
By opting for the taste of life, she immortalised the moment in photographs. She realised that age is not an obstacle to meeting the new. Now, she says she intends to live openly at dawn. She opened the door and gave herself permission to be honest with herself.
By Edsandra Carneiro
