Of Jewish Race by Renzo Modiano

Author:Renzo Modiano [Modiano, Renzo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-908251-14-5
Publisher: Vagabond Voices
Published: 2013-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

The fireplace was the only source of warmth in the houses and the only means of cooking food. Women learned early how to juggle the distance from the flames, the heat of the fire and the cooking times so that everything was ready (neither burnt nor raw, neither undercooked nor overcooked) when the family sat down to eat. Polenta or pasta, potatoes or beans, meat or vegetables, each had their own cooking time and all were cooked on that single fire. In the afternoon, the dance of the pans started in the wide fireplace: high heat, low heat, coals, closer to the flames, further from the flames, pans hanging high over the fire or almost touching it…

One evening in mid-December we were all indoors. Due to the cold and early nightfall, our brief adventures outside were finished for the day. We were warming ourselves in front of the fire, whilst Mamma Lanzi was juggling her pans. Suddenly we heard a voice from the street, “Guido! Guido Modiano!”

Instinctively, my brother moved towards the window, but Lanzi caught him by the arm, and pulled him back.

“Stay where you are. I’ll see who’s looking for you.”

He stuck his head out, “Oh, it’s you, Mancinelli. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to fetch the boys. Their father sent me.”

“Come on up and we’ll talk about it.”

Neither my brother nor I had ever met Mancinelli, but Lanzi knew him because he was the painter my father hired for jobs in the buildings he managed. He had really come to fetch us. We learned from him that the Americans had got as far as Cassino, barely a hundred kilometres from Rome. No one could imagine that the American front would be stuck there for very long. Worried that we might be cut off from Rome by the shifting front line, my father had decided to send for us. Mancinelli had four children and travelling in those days was dangerous, even without two Jews tagging along. Despite that, he had taken on the job, and certainly not for the promise of payment.

We had been in Civitatomassa for three months and that was my first really peaceful evening. I’d had a great time there, but every day and every evening were tainted with worry about what was happening to my mother, father and Elena.

“They’re all fine,” Mancinelli quickly let us know.

“They’re all fine, I’m so happy! And tomorrow I’ll see them again!” A nightmare was coming to an end, and I felt a sense of freedom and calm that I hadn’t felt for a long time. That was how I saw things at that moment, when I was unaware of the impact reality would have on my dream. Rome was still a long way from being liberated and things had not gone all that well for my family.

I was happy but reproached myself for feeling like that: I thought I was being ungrateful to the Lanzis because I was so glad to be leaving. It wasn’t as

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