ODYSSEUS 2000
Personal Identity and social living
 
 

ITINERARIES
stories of voyages into the world

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First chapter

MIGRATIONS, ITINERARIES:
A COMPREHENSIVE VIEW

"A cargo which seemed to fly Egyptian flag, with on board 300 stowaways of different nationalities, was intercepted today by the patrol boats of the Harbour Office of Reggio Calabria at 8.15 a.m., 12 miles in the offing of Cape Spartivento. The ship "Senior M.", 300 tons heavy and 64 meters long, was escorted by the boats of the coastguard towards the port of the regional capital of Calabria. The Harbour Office of Reggio Calabria decided to let some doctors go in the ship and aid the stowaways of the "Senior M.". The men of the coastguard signalised, there was a pregnant woman on board."
18th April 2000: from one of the many press agencies.

The journey begins in every part of the world and everyone brings something of his country, his habits and remembrances, but also his personal story, his thoughts and the difficult experiences of the departure and of the "passage". If we read and compare all these stories, they seem to be elements of a mosaic and we don't know if it will be possible to put them together. They are fragments, voices speaking at the same time in different languages. If we want to understand and don't want to miss any of these voices we have to control and re-interpret them; in this way it will be possible to connect them and make them seem a single voice. It's an arbitrary task which is probably determined by the necessity of the audience not to be overwhelmed. It's, metaphorically, the same impression we have when we observe a picture portraying a group of persons. We only see some figures who seem to be similar and confused, then we start distinguishing the features and recognising faces; from that moment on we can perceive the real "group" with his whole peculiarities.

I try to describe this journey following a geographic order, just to find my bearings: from Central and Southern America to Africa, Asia and finally to Europe. My attention is now focused on the backgrounds of the itineraries rather than on the protagonists. We will analyse them progressively, when they will emerge as single "actors".
The first country we meet is Santo Domingo. It' s the story of a woman who emigrated to Italy 5 years ago. Last year came her two daughters, too.

“I am 34 years old and I come from Bani, a town in the Dominican Republic, a bit bigger than Jesi. I came to Italy 5 years ago, alone and without my family. No precise reasons can explain my choice. I had no economical problems. Perhaps I chose to emigrate because a person is never completely satisfied in her life; then she hears the stories of other persons who did similar choices, she wants to change and thinks it will be easy. Only afterwards I understood it was more difficult than I expected. My family had a little activity in the coffee sector, we were 11 children. If I make a comparison with my present situation in Italy, I can say that I used to live better in my country. Sometimes they ask me: "Why did you come to Italy?"  Now I deny my choice and if I could come back I wouldn't make it; I would also tell the other Dominicans: "Stay there, don't come to Italy".
I would like to come back to my country but I spend all the few money I earn for my everyday life and I cannot save money for my return. (...) In my country we work but we also have more free time, a person can relax, can do everything she wants. Here it is very different, we always work and have no free time: apart from work there are dates, talking hours at school, shopping and there is always something to do, it's a continuous stress and we can never be free, it's a standing engagement. My daughter too, who has just come, tells me: "Mum, this country is not so happy as ours". Mine is not a criticism because everyone has his own culture and his way of living; what I don't like is the attitude towards strangers. (...) I have a hard job but I have more difficulties in the relations with other persons than with my working hours and conditions. They want to give orders when they cannot do it, as if you, stranger, were different and you have to do much more things than the others, you have to be at their disposal. (...) Yes, if the job were easier and I could have more free time it would be better, but the most important thing... how can I explain that... is the behaviour and the attitude of the people towards strangers. (...) But in the town too the situation is very similar. It's not my country and in general people treat you as an inferior being; perhaps they don't say it openly but they do it with hypocrisy and indifference, indirectly. In my country it's different, when you speak "You feel yourself, you feel free. (...) I would like to attend a course of Italian language but I cannot do it because of my working hours. When I come back home from work, at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, I have to arrange my house and have other job affairs, I keep company to old persons and so I have no free time. If the language course takes place on Saturday afternoon I can attend it, but I don't know if only one lesson per week could be enough for my Italian.”

The journey is difficult, and someone could also have doubts about it: Have I made a bad choice? The background, on the contrary, is made of Bani (a town with 60-70,000 inhabitants), of the coffee activity, of a family made of 11 members, of a happy life which has more normal rhythms. There is also the absence of a specific need and the curiosity of leaving. And therefore we see the new town, its rhythms, the difficult situations and the attitude of the people.
This last aspect -the attitude of the people- is the common "background" we will find in every story. We create this background through our way of perceiving and seeing strangers: they are "different" from us but all like each other. They see and describe us through this attitude we have: we normally don't think that "someone examines us", we tend to think that we are the only ones who are observing, describing, classifying, evaluating. We have an "eurocentric" point of view and the first temptation we should escape from is the "generalising sight" through which all the faces in the picture seem to be confused and like each other. The "generalising sight" is not curious, doesn't pay the right attention.

Here is another journey which begins in two different neighbour countries in South America. The husband starts explaining: “I come from Peru and my wife from Ecuador; we weren’t married in our Countries, we lived with our own family. I was 29 and she was 28. We met here in 1990. We went to attend a scholastic course, we fell in love and we decided to stay here in Italy. We wanted to get married, but which Country could we choose? In Ecuador I would have felt as a foreigner, in Peru my wife would have felt a foreigner too and so...”
The interviewer - me, in this situation - asks astonished: “Ecuador and Peru are neighbouring Countries and probably very similar. In our point of view they seem to be the same, but you are saying that you would have felt as a foreigner?”
“Yes -says our friend from Peru-, they are partly similar but very different too. So we thought: we are foreign people even here. Let’s try to be both foreigners. Let’s stop here to build a family. There was another reason too. Latin America isn’t very steady from an economic and social point of view and at the end of the 80s it was worse than today. For example, my colleagues had medium salaries but because of the inflation their life was really a life of sacrifice. I had fewer problems because I lived with my parents but I realised that I couldn’t build my family in Peru. Economic stability is very important when you build a project for your life.”

And what about the contacts with the relatives and with the country, both very far? I report here the whole dialogue we had at their house.
“How many times did you come back to your Countries?”
Husband: “Twice in ten years: when my daughter was born and then when the little child was born.”
“What kind of contacts do you have with your countries?”
Wife: "Telephonic contacts. Luckily there is Internet now: it solved many problems."
“I also added a video camera to my computer. So, when I speak with my brother in Peru he can see me. But here in Italy telephone rates are too high, more than in other countries. Now there are new formulas and new phone cards that are cheaper and allow us to have a longer conversation with our home country. Anyhow Internet solved many problems. Once it was difficult: sometimes we received some newspapers, some magazines. Now we can read all the news, we can be informed, we send and receive photos, pictures, we can visit different links of our countries. We can listen to the radio too!”
"Over there we have our brothers, our parents and relationships are very strong. Now we can have contacts every day. Once we phoned twice a month because it cost too much. In our opinion Internet is very useful. Of course our families are not here. We miss them even because of practical reasons as, for example, the children. But we have to organise our lives in this way, all alone. But we got used to it. I can say that we felt more alone before our children were born. They filled-up the gap."
“What do you mean?”
"I don’t mean that they substituted our parents, because it isn’t possible: it is a different kind of love. But now we don’t feel alone. For example: when it is Christmas time or our birthday we are four people. Once we were only two: our family has increased. We deal in a different way even with our problems: work, how to organise the day, we are very busy. It isn’t the same thing as when we were only two people..."
“Now it is different when we come back to our countries, to that place we call our home. You go back home but isn’t your home anymore. Now you have got your new family, a wife, and your children. You are there just for a visit...”
"I don’t mean they aren’t happy for your visit. On the contrary! They are very happy..."
“But it comes a moment in which you need your armchair...”
"...Your bed, your affairs..."
“....because now it’s our world: the place where live, our house, our reality.....”
"Now, when we say we’re going home we think of our parent’s house. That’s all."
“This is our real home now. Before, at Christmas, speaking with our parents on the phone, they would cry for we were far away and alone. Now even if they get moved they know we are fine here, we’ve got our family, our house.”
"We are more relaxed. Maybe we all got used to it."
“Our parents know we are OK and we live in conforts. In this part of Italy life is very quiet and pleasant. Perhaps that’s more evident to people coming from other places rather than to natives. Services, comforts, population, everything is nice. There’s no stress as in big cities where we used to live.”
"Our countries are poorer than Italy, the life-style is different, there are lots of problems. Even the health-system is much better: here it’s a right, in our countries a luxury."

There is a very different aspect in this first stories. In the first one they say: “This is not my home, in my country it's different, you feel yourself, you feel free”. The second couple has completed this passage, or choice, and says: “When we come back to our countries, well, we see it as our parent's house, not ours...this is our real home now.”  Beneath this different psychological evaluation there are also different stories and ways of living; in our short conversations we could just mention them. They make of every single journey a unique experience.

Another journey begins in Peru. It's a lady, 36 years old, who got married as she was 19 years old and lived for more than 10 years in Mexico City. Then she started another journey and emigrated in Catalonia. Her personal story is full of changes: “My marriage was in crisis, I was always pregnant ...my youngest daughter is of another man. My husband was unfaithful and I was exhausted. Mexican men are usually unfaithful; man is very "macho" and the woman has to stay at home. We have been married for 9 years. During the period I lived with him I didn't go to work because he had a good job and he had enough money, we lived in a very beautiful house. When I came here, with my three daughters, I was pregnant. My parents were quite angry and my husband didn't accept my pregnancy very well. He tried to sue me to take my daughters off. In Barcelona I gave birth and I fell ill. I spent three months in an intensive care unit, I lost weight, I didn't eat and I vomited blood.”

Her arrival in Catalonia seems to be a journey in another journey, in her life, searching for solutions. It's also a journey from a country to another one, towards new adaptations, perhaps more difficult than the former ones: “I was born in Peru and I felt Peruvian, I went to Mexico and I felt Mexican, here I can't feel myself Spanish. My brothers have been living in Barcelona for many years but they don't feel themselves Spanish. (...) It's because of the people. Mexican people are different, they are very kind with people who go to their country, they are friendly, they don't distrust people, of course not all of them. (...) In Mexico people always speak with their neighbours, you can trust people and ask them whatever you need. When I went back to Mexico last month, my family noticed I had changed, I was less loving, less friendly, I mistrusted Mexicans, I was not the same person. (...) We use to celebrate the feast of the independence of Mexico, on September 16, my daughters like to remember this day. We usually prepare the celebration with a Mexican friend who sings in a Mexican restaurant here in Lleida. We usually put the Mexican flag on our balcony, we listen to Mexican music and we eat tacos, frijoles and nachos. (...) at Christmas we prepare stuffed turkey, it is a typical south-american dish. It is very different from the Christmas we used to celebrate in Mexico. There, people at Christmas usually walk along the streets and stop in front of the houses and sing: "We are looking for a lodging because my beloved bride is very tired and can't go on". From the houses people answer with another song and, if they accept the request, they invite the singers to come in and have something to drink, in the other case the singer go to sing in front of another house.”
“What does Mexico mean for your daughters?”, asks the interviewer. “They are bound to Mexico, they are very nationalist. Last month, when I went back to Mexico to settle my papers, I brought them some little necklaces as a present and they were very proud of them, they showed them to all their little friends. They remember their grandparents very well. My eldest daughter says: "I'm studying here but this isn't my world". She wants to study much so that she can go back to Mexico one day. They are suffering for being away from their country.”

In this story there is a mixture of remembrances of many countries, Peru, Mexico, Spain. Even if all these countries are part of the same linguistic area, we can perceive the same problems of diversity. And the linguistic problem is not completely solved. “Would you like to speak Catalan?”, asks the interviewer. “I can understand it and I can read it perfectly but I can't speak it. I would like to learn how to use a computer and learn a lot of things. My daughters don't speak spontaneously Catalan.”

Also for Europeans who live outside Spain, as we are, it isn't easy to understand the differences between Catalonia and Spain, Catalan and Castilian. Besides this particular aspect there is the more general dimension of the Spanish linguistic area, rich in differences and cultural identities and also in "generalising sights" towards strangers, the same we see in other situations. “Have you ever felt observed or sexually persecuted for being southamerican?”, asks the interviewer: “Yes, of course! As we have a different colour of the skin, men think we are prostitutes. In our country, when it is very hot, we use to wear short trousers; when I wore them here, a lot of people stared at me so I decided not to wear them any more. Sometimes they asked me if I worked in a night-club! What if my mother knew that! Anyway people are changing and are becoming always less racist.”

We proceed from the American continent to North Africa. The stories of the journeys depend on the job situation, they began a lot of time ago and mostly concern families which were already built in the country of origin rather than in the country of arrival. These stories are told by women; they are all Arabic except one who was born in Reus in Catalonia and got married with a Moroccan from Fez. The interview was made in the school of their 3 years old child, Omar:
“Who chose the name Omar?”
“His father. I call him Diego and his father Omar. I like the name Diego very much but his father likes Omar, which I also like. My husband wanted a boy and an Arab name because this name also belonged to his family. He looked among his family’s names for a name for his son.”
“Who commands most in your home?”
“Both of us. My family is in. There are eleven of us, The youngest is 11 and I am the eldest. I have uncles in Alcoletge. They're the only ones I have around here.”
“Does your husband have family around here?”
“My husband's family live half in Morocco and half in France. He has nine sisters and he's the second eldest. His father is dead and his mother alive.”
“Do you often see your husband's family?”
“I only know them on the phone. We don't have enough money to go that far.”
“Does your husband mean to -o back to his country?”
“No, he doesn't like his country. He says there's more life here. Besides, our child has Spanish nationality.”
“Have you noticed any differences in customs and other things since you got married?”
“Some. When his friends come round 1 can't understand what they say.”
“Do you have many Moroccan friends?”
“Yes, about 15. I like Moroccans. I get alone, well with them. They are very friendly and they welcome you very well into their homes.”
“And how does your husband behave towards your family?”
“Very well. He's very affectionate and gets on well with my parents.”
“What customs from his country does your husband keep now? Praying, etc.?”
“None. He says they're all foolish. He doesn't believe you shouldn't eat pork or fast after six in the evening. He doesn't practise any religion and this is why I have no problems. He phones his family more or less once a month.”
“Does your husband like reading?”
“Yes, he has some books. We speak Castilian and he also teaches Omar some Arabian words.”
“So you haven't kept any customs from there, for example, circumcision, etc.”
“That yes, because it's hygienic. It’s the only thing he has done with regard to religion. They did it at the First Aid in Lleida.”
“Have you noticed any nervousness as a result of this operation?”
“No, after ten days it was all passed.”

The story of the choice of the name of their child is very curious; it seems they wanted to preserve and conciliate two different cultures. Then they talk about the circumcision. It's a typical and natural feature of a cultural tradition ("because it's hygienic", points out the Catalan mother) and it doesn't need to be strictly associated to other cultural traditions or to the religious observance.
The other story concerning Morocco begins in Tetouan, on the Mediterranean Sea shores. This time it's a Moroccan woman who tells her story and expresses her deep nostalgia for her country.

“We, the parents, live with our 3 children: an 8 years old daughter and 2 sons, 6 years and 18 months old. The rest of the family live in Tetuàn….. I'm the one who feels most nostalgic for my Family... It's difficult staying here when I think- of them. At the beginning I cried a lot. (...) my husband has been living in Spain for 21 years, I came here 15 days after the wedding, 11 years ago. We got married with the Moslem ritual, in Morocco. I came to Seròs when I was 18. My husband has been in Madrid, Barcelona, Tarassa, Lleida and Seròs. (...)We're fine.... we lack for nothing… my husband works I can't work. With three children I can't, I've enough work at home. (...) We have a house in Morocco where we go on holiday every year… I like seeing my family. The house is in Tetuan and my sister look after it, they clean it… we're happy here… I like Morocco… for the family… the children don't like it customs are very different… my husband and the children want to stay here… I think about my family much more than they do.”
“Which Arab cultural customs do you think most important? Why? Which do you keep and which not?”, asks the interviewer.
“The culture has changed a lot. I would like to keep then-I my husband and the children prefer those here…. they don't like going to Morocco… when we go they want to come back immediately.”
“What customs do you still keep? Why?”
“All we can. Ramadan, the festival of the lamb we don't drink alcohol, we can't cat pork. We want our children to know them and the religion because we are Moslems.”

“They don't like going to Morocco": the nostalgia of this lady towards the habits of her country, the house her brothers take care of, her friends and family seems to be full of resignation. Tetouan is a Mediterranean town near Tangeri, in the Moroccan Maghreb which has historical ties to Spain. It reminds me the atmosphere of some romances of Ben Jalloun: “The Eastern wind, in a town where the Atlantic sea and the Mediterranean sea converge, in a town composed by succeeding hills, wrapped in legends, sweet and unintelligible enigma.”

Another journey starts from Algeria. It's another woman who tells us her story. She is separated from her daughter's father and she has had a new partner for 6 years. The interview was realised inside the school, one Monday, the only day that the mother, who works in a restaurant:
“I suffered very much, my parents divorced when I was 9 years old, the same age as my eldest daughter. I took care of my little brother and I stopped going to school. That is the reason why I don't want to have any relation with my mother and my sister, who went away with my mother. I was very angry with her and I can't stand staying together with her, I insult her. I know she is my mother but I can't do anything for that. She abandoned us. She left my father alone, he was old and she left him. I would never do a thing like that; if my daughter's father weren't an alcoholic I would still stay with him. I took care of my brother till he was 13, then my stepmother arrived and I didn't get well along her so I went to look after a teacher's son. I lived at her house and I went back home only during the weekend. Then I got married, I wanted to go away, but my happiness lasted only one year: I was left a widow when I was 21 years old. So I left my country, I didn't have neither a passport nor anything else; I got some money when my husband died and I wanted to leave, I was very sad. My husband and I used to say that if one of us would die, the other one should leave the country. My father did not agree but I couldn't forget my husband. I had to suffer very much with my stepmother. Anyway, since I have lived here, I am quite lucky, God did not abandon me. I met a lot of good people who helped me very much, I could manage with my daughters.”

In this story the tie with the country of origin seems to be difficult and doesn't produce any particular homesickness. The interviewer insists and asks: “Do you have relations with people from your country?” and the answer is very severe: “No, and I don't want. When you leave a country you change very much, you became more false. They did not help me.”  There is a whole world in the thoughts of this woman, a confused world. The interviewer would know something more and goes on: “What traditions do you keep up from your country?”, and she explains: “The Moslem religion that I try to explain to my daughters too. I do not go to the mosque because it is not compulsory for women and I do not like wearing the veil. There are women who wear it but it is because their husbands oblige them, many men look unfavourably to women who don't wear it but I don't care. I sometimes cook cus cus and some typical sweets of my country, my daughters like them very much and they usually ask me to prepare them. I have always loved cooking. I would like them to follow my religion but I am not going to oblige them, there is only a God even if there are many prophets.”

“I do not like wearing the veil”. That's another point which sometimes emerges in the background of these stories. In this dialogue we only mention it, as if it were an unimportant question which deals with the personal way of conceiving the own habits, without taking a stand or perceiving any fracture with his own religious and cultural backgrounds: “I keep the Moslem religion that I try to explain to my daughters too.”

It's another woman from Tunisia who tells us the story of the journey of her whole family. The father was the first who emigrated; he was fisherman in Sicily, in the town of Mazara del Vallo. Then they all decided to emigrate in the Marches. “We met in Sfax, in Tunisia; my husband came from Bisento. We got married in Sfax. Then my husband went to Italy, while I interchanged long periods with my sons in Tunisia and with him in Italy. My mother helped me with my children, that studied. At a certain moment my husband said: -I can’t come back to Tunisia after all the years I passed in Italy: what kind of job can I do? To whom should I turn? So we asked for the family rejoining and we moved to Italy with the children, who were 13, 11 and 5 years old; the last child was born here. I have got three brothers and I am the only daughter, then there are my father and my mother. We lived in a big town called the second capital (...) My husband was a fisherman (...) Some friends left before, told him that they were at their ease and suggested: -Go to Mazara del Vallo, there is a lot of work for you and you can get more money than in Tunisia-. He went there and by then he worked as a fisherman for 27 years; when he left he said: - I will have a try on my own. If everything is going right you will join me,  and so it was.”

Sfax is a town with 340,000 inhabitants on the sea, in the Gulf of Gabes, in the southern side of the Sicily channel; a lot of fishermen from Sfax or Mahdia, another town on the sea, just a few km in the north, went to Italy to work as fishermen, as if it were a common destiny they cannot escape from. Another Tunisian family who now lives in Italy started from Kairouan, a town with 70,000 inhabitants in the inner part of Tunisia. The husband was the first who came to Italy with a tourist visa and later his wife reached him: “...when she came, it was her last week of pregnancy. She came on a Wednesday and on the following Wednesday the child was born. Also because of this reason everything was very difficult at the beginning.”
“How about the situation in the hospital? Could the doctors understand you?”, asked the interviewer to the wife.
“No words at the beginning. My husband was always near me.”
“I always had to be there, when the doctor spoke to her she could not understand. I had to be there as I were a doctor.”
“It was a bit disagreeable” points out the lady. “But, -explains the husband, as if he wanted to better the memories- when the second child was born she could already understand by herself, I brought her to Senigallia and she could get off.”
And the ties with Tunisia? The interviewer asks later: “Do you ever get Tunisian newspapers? Do you read newspaper in Arabic?”
“Of course! Now we have the satellite!” and she immediately switches on the TV to show some TV channels in Arabic language.

In these stories born in the African side of the Mediterranean Sea, in Morocco, Algeria or Tunisia, the fundamental reason which led to the journey is the search of a more remunerative job, even if there are also other aims. Let's see the example of an Algerian woman who now lives in Spain: “I would like to travel, too, I love it, I would never stop.”
In some of the stories there is no mention of the reason that led to the journey, to the departure. Perhaps the interviewer -for some mysterious reasons- hasn't precisely expressed this curiosity. Perhaps the protagonist - for some other reasons we would certainly like to analyse - has preferred to shift the dialogue to others aspects which are more focused on the country of arrival. For example, the interviewer describes a young woman from Cameroon in this way: “She seems to be a determined, convinced, European girl who decided to share the education of her son with her father; she thinks that the exemplary model for the education of her son is her father (the grandfather of her child) rather than her husband. She retains some habits of her country but she likes feeling "European" and affirms that the best place for herself and her child is Lleida, in Catalonia. She feels upheld by her family in Cameroon; after the failure of her first love affair she looks with suspect to her actual partner who doesn't allow her to educate her child. She's independent and doesn't easily enjoy other companionship apart from her family of origin. She collaborates a lot with the school and is very happy about the progress of her child at the beginning of his studies. She doesn't like to be questioned, she knows it is necessary for us to know a part of her life in order to better understand her child and help him in his learning and growing process.”

She seems to be a European girl, points out the interviewer, and explains: “She doesn't like to be questioned”. What kind of meaning could have the expression "to seem European", taking into consideration the fact that she doesn't easily accept other companionship apart from her family of origin? In this case the "conversation task", the exchange among people, the investigation in their own stories shows a lot of possible developments.

For someone the journey seems to begin unexpectedly and then it gradually develops after the arrival. “I am a Nigerian and I came to Italy about 20 years ago, on January 1979. My family is composed of my wife, whose origins are Philippine, of my son, who is 10 and was born here, and of me. I moved to Italy when I was 21; I went to high school in Nigeria and then I won an Italian scholarship in Agriculture. I never thought in the least of remaining in Italy for good. I just wanted to finish my course in Agriculture, which was due to finish in 1982, and then go back to Nigeria. In that period, however, a coup d’ètat had taken place in Nigeria and the political situation has been deteriorating since then. It is only for this reason that I’m still in Italy now.”
In the background of this story, among the various elements told by our partner, there is also the structure of his family of origin which is completely different from our idea of "family".

“Can you talk about your family in Nigeria?”
“My father has four wives .....”
“... is he a Muslim?”
“No, he is a catholic, but that is our custom. My father has four wives and 22 children. I am his fifth-born child, and I have four older sisters. I am the oldest boy. My mother has seven children, and I am her third-born child, the oldest among the boys. All my relatives are alive, and they live in Nigeria. My father is still young. When he got married he was very young, now he is about 60 and he still works. My older sisters work, and my younger brothers still study. My birthplace is a big city of about a million inhabitants.”

If we go ahead with the analysis of the faces of the people in our group picture, we meet an ex-boxer from Kinshasa, in Congo, who began his journey chasing, as in an adventure, the success in the sport. It's a very particular story, very different from all the other ones. The way seems to be easier; as in a game, a brilliant career allows him to live sport at international level, surrounded by a particular and agreeable environment. In the emigration the ways to access in another country are not always similar, someone gets in from the "bottom" and someone from the "top": in the sport they normally get in from the top, the easiest way. I spent a whole afternoon with the boxer Pinto Bungunia at his house, the video cassette recorder on, drinking some glasses of wine, watching sometimes some images of his matches: “When I came to Jesi people received me very well. We can say I had the same embrace Maradona had as he came to Naples. I was not so famous as he was, but the sport environment in Jesi received me very well, the mayor, the other persons, the friends I already had (…) In the first week I never ate at home because everyone invited me (…) Also now, that I am not boxer anymore, nothing has changed, everyone likes me, I have lots of friends, they respect me, they are well-known persons, ex-mayors, assessors, lawyers and others (…) sometimes people I didn't know greeted me in the street, I liked it (…) At the beginning I lived here alone, my family moved here later. Some years ago I lived in Ancona and my manager called me and told me I had to go to Genoa, where he was. I always had my ticket there, took the taxi and went to the towns where they called me. I couldn't speak Italian, it was not so useful, I spoke French, also with my manager.”
He began his sport adventure as a very young boy in his country, the former "Zaire", nowadays called "Congo", its ancient name: “When I began I was only 15-16 years old. After some years the military team of Zaire, composed also by the bodyguards of Mobuto, wanted me (…) My wife and my relatives could watch me on TV in that moment (…) I fought a lot of times, in Zaire and in other African countries such as Angola, Gabon, Congo- Brazzaville and in other countries, too. I finally came to Europe with the civil team for the youth world boxing championships. It was 1981. (…) The world championships were very good for me; my match was shown on TV and also the manager of my friend Kalambay and of other boxers from Zaire (very famous boxers who had come to Italy some years before) could see me. This manager found the hotel where I stayed and phoned me that evening to invite me to come to Italy. I already had an offer of the French team but he convinced me to come to Italy. I preferred it, too, because I already had my friends there. After the world championships I went to Belgium and the following week I came back to Zaire. Two days after my arrival I received a message where they told me to go to the airport, get the ticket and fly to Italy. I spoke with my wife, I didn't know what I had to do. Then I decided to go to Italy. The Italian boxing was very strong in that period, it was interesting.”
But also when someone crosses from "the top" the ways leading from a country to another one, there are problems, even if the journey is similar to an adventure and a young man experiences it with excitement. During our long talk by Bingunia's house he also shows me a video of a very important match of his career. It's the film in Eurovision of the final match of the "Mondialino", an international championship just one step beneath the world championship. The TV speaker introduces him as a boxer from Zaire who is going to obtain the Italian citizenship. We see Bingunia with the Italian flag on his shoulders while in the hall they're playing the Italian national anthem. About 15 years have passed from that match and he hasn't still obtained the Italian citizenship, which has also caused some problems for his career as sportsman. “My career was difficult because I came from Zaire, if I were an European I would have had better opportunities. The ones who know me, also the journalists in my country, don't like the way they treated me and the fact that, to live, I have to work in a factory. Even if now I feel good; I am one of the few Africans in Jesi who have a job of responsibility in spite of the black colour of my skin. My situation is better than the one of other strangers who are obliged to do heavier jobs where they are considered as "the last ones". But my situation in Zaire was better; before I decided to come to Italy I sold furniture and some workers worked for me; when in Zaire they think on me, a champion who has to work in a factory, they regret it.”

I analysed this situation with more accuracy because it is different from the other ones, is not complicated by economical urgency or social problems, it develops in a very particular and "protected" environment, but it reveals some differences in the consideration and some different points of view.

If we go ahead with our analysis of the picture, always taking into consideration the geographical origin of the people, we discover a very particular way composed by singular conflicts for the own cultural identity. It's a journey which begins in Ethiopia, in a Italian-Ethiopian family; the protagonist describes an itinerary which seems to be at the same time a departure and a comeback, a journey from and in himself, where we sometimes see some new difficulties combined with the old ones, perhaps in the chimera of solving them too quickly.
“Mine is a very particular experience of an Italian and African man at the same time. My mother was daughter of Italians and Ethiopians, so she was a mulatto woman. At home we already had bilinguism, we spoke both Italian and Amharic at the same time. I always felt halfway: with the Africans I wasn't African, I was different, I had a whiter skin and my phenotipical features were different as well. With the Italians I wasn't Italian because my skin was darker. The bilinguism is not rare in Africa; most of the children speak the national language and the language "of the street", the dialect, which is a real language. At that time we used to speak Italian, too because it was a very common language, coming from the Italian colonialism in the past. It was a mixed situation, both in the languages and in the habits. For example we ate both African and Italian dishes such as pasta. My mother was daughter of an Italian, she had learnt these habits and transmitted them. Moreover, I attended the Italian school and was educated with the Italian culture. We were different from the other Ethiopians not only because we were "half-caste" but also for our way of living. They called us "Ferenge", a word coming from "French", invented in the period when the French established in Ethiopia before the Italians came. This word was a synonym for "stranger", "different".
That was the attitude towards Ethiopians. A similar problem affected also the community of the "true Italians". When I moved to Italy after the coup d'état in 1975 I wanted to become Italian very soon and completely. Perhaps the intensity of such a desire makes it difficult to really become "Italian", because the destination is always something you never reach…in spite of that there is the aspect of the "removal" of the former reality which someone tends to deny, to oversee or not to take into consideration. I lived this experience until I was 17-18 years old… it was an awful sensation. Now I'm recovering and I feel better, and at the same time I feel Italian. Now I can really say I am perfectly integrated, but I started for 10 years a phase of rediscovery of the other side of myself. At the beginning it was awful. I came to a country where I was "the other one" and I could feel this way of judging of the people who make distinction between themselves and me. In my case I was "the other one" and wanted to acclimatise very soon, immediately. It seemed as if I wanted to say: "Look, I don't need to acclimatise because I am already Italian". But I was different, as I was different in Ethiopia.”

The rediscovery of the other side of myself.

Another journey begins in the geographically close Somalia. This time it is the war which breaks into the history of the people. A flight which is perceived only when someone has arrived on the other side and, after a period of acclimatisation, can stop and look back. The interviewer who hears the story and the we, the readers, have difficulties to understand the context in which this flight occurred, what it means for a person to flee, suddenly, and to break all the emotional and social ties against his/her own will: Where were we, readers, in the same moment, what did we think, as in that country the situation turned into a tragedy?
“I was a soccer-player and we both have high-school education. We lived in a small town and we both lived with our own families. In my spare-time I played soccer and saw my friends, my wife lived with her relatives and friends. We are both Muslims as 90% of the people of Somalia. (...)We left because of the war with other Somali people. I received help from my uncle and my father to pay the trip, and came to Sweden directly. My wife had help from her relatives and came to Sweden two years after me. (...) We have relatives in Somalia. In the beginning it was difficult to have any contact. They had no telephone, but now it is easier because of the satellites (...) I would not have been here if I could afford a good life in Somalia, and if there was peace in my country. I always think about escape from here. Would go back if conditions where better in Somalia.”
These 2 people didn't come alone; they brought their problems and also two children with them:
“We are seven in the family, and we are/or was married but my wife wanted to divorce me, but was not allowed. We lived separated for a time here in Sweden, but now we want to be together again. We have three children of our own and one on the way. All children are born here in Sweden. The two foster-children that live with us were born in Somalia. We live here in Bergsjön and we have no relatives here in Sweden.”

Also our voyage as interviewers and readers is an investigation in the stories of other people. Through these stories we are able to find traces of ourselves and of the difficulties we could have if the circumstances (war or other reasons) would oblige us. We too would probably be confused as two Chinese people who have been living in Europe for about 10 years. They have been in Switzerland and then in Italy.
“We are confused. We studied for many years and would like to stay in a place where we can exploit our abilities. If it were possible to do that in China, we would come back. (…) A lot of people there cannot realise what they want, there are too many limits, things are too complicated; time is not enough to express your abilities as a professional (…) too much politics, administration makes the whole thing complicated. China is always my country and if I can do something for my country I do it. But if you live and don't feel good… I cannot say that I only live for my country, I live for me, too, if I don't feel good how can I help other people? My husband works in a dies factory not far from here and can go to China once a year. Every time he tells me about his impressions, the changes, and says that something got better, something else worse. I always ask him: are you ready to come back to China to work or you are still not sure of the situation over there?”

We are confused, says the lady. There is another not less complicated way, which is due to political reasons, I mean the choice of professing his own idea, a vision of the world and of life: an idea which you have to abandon in your own country together with your emotions and your previous life. It's the story of a Bengali family; the following text is part of the interview, which was difficult because of their poor Italian:
“Why have you decided to come to Italy?”
Husband: “The situation in my country is not easy as far as economy, society, job opportunities and climate is concerned. We want to live peacefully in the world. I think there is only one world, so where we feel good we can stay. Poor and rich people are persons, they are all God's children. For our ideology there is only one world. I don't like Islam. (…) I was a student of political sciences, I took a degree and began my business, but the situation was difficult there. I worked for a while thanks to my degree.”
“And you, madam, what did you study?”
Wife: “I only took a primary school degree and didn't work as we were in Bangladesh.”
“And when you decided to leave, why did you choose Italy?”
“No, I first went to Germany, in 1985, and I stayed there for about five years.”
“It was a political choice. I had political problems in my country and I was married: In Germany I could ask for asylum. (…) In Germany there were lots of people coming from Bangladesh, we were not alone. (…) I only had asylum but no job permission. We lived in a place we called lager, a big house and we ate in a refectory of the German government; they gave me a hundred marks to pay the other charges, to drink and to smoke. It was not enough for me. How could we live with so little money? In our country we have our parents and a lot of friends who can helps us; but in Germany we had to live with the money they gave us.”
“When did you come to Italy?”
“In 1990. I first went to Rome where I became the residence permit. In Germany I had asylum but I could not work, I had very few money. Here I got the permission to work.”

In our group there are people coming from countries of the ex Ottoman Empire. Some of them are Turkish, some others come from Syria, there are a Lebanese and some people from Bosnia. This people are different one another but they have a common feature: the difficulty of cohabitation between ethnic, cultural and religious communities that always lived mixed in the same territories. A "modern" difficulty, of these last century and decades. There can be economical, social, political reasons to leave, or the repercussion of a war, but in every journey we can still perceive the reflex of the migrations of people and communities which marked in the last centuries the history of this area between Europe and Asia.
The migrations of populations -and the (sometimes forced) procedures of ethnic differentiation- were very frequent in the last century; they were encouraged by international treaties or were consequence of wars, and they have probably exacerbated the problems of cohabitation and social-cultural deterioration instead of having solved them.

The first two ways begin in Turkey and arrive in Sweden. The first one is the experience of a Syrian woman who escaped from Turkey because of political and religious reasons as she was 13 years old; she lived in Germany for a long time. It is important to point out that the term "Syrian" doesn't correspond to our vision of the country "Syria", since it has a wider meaning.
That's what she told us: “I grew up in Turkey and lived there my first 13 years. We lived in the country and my parents were farmers. The life was hard because we are Assyrian and we were pursued because of that. We spoke Assyrian language at home but in school we had to speak Turkish. Because of the problems about being Assyrian we moved to Germany. There my parents never were able to get a job.... I went to school and in my class I was the only foreigner. In the beginning I was very shy and quiet. I was also a little bit afraid because I thought that the teachers would be as hard as in Turkey. In Turkey you often got punished if you couldn't answer correct or did something wrong. After a while I saw that it was not like that in Germany and I could relax and then I learned German rather fast. I liked the school in Germany very much.”

The itinerary inside Germany is very interesting, too, because her journey doesn't stop in this country: “As soon as I had finished school I got married to a German man in Germany. We got three children, all born in Germany, 1987, 1989 and 1990. (...) I was at home with my children and then we spoke Assyrian. With my husband they spoke German but because he had long days at work they spoke Assyrian most the first years. Then they of course spoke German with their friends and at school. So when they got a little older German was the main language for them. (...) I got divorced from my husband and we wanted to move far away from him. (...) I had already two sisters in Sweden. I went to them first to see how I felt about Sweden and I found it nice and thought that it could be good here for the children. The language and the way of living are not so different between Germany and Sweden. I also thought that my children should feel safe here, far away from their father. (...) First I went to SFI, "Swedish for Immigrants" and as soon as I knew a little Swedish I decided to manage on my own. I didn't want an interpreter if it wasn't necessary. (...) now I speak German with my children at home, but when we are together with my father, my sisters and other relatives we speak Assyrian. (...) I know a little Turkish and English.”

The interesting and various itineraries we have seen in this story are the mirror of the frequent transformations in the political borders and in the old and new people combinations in the territories of the ex Ottoman Empire both in the Asiatic and the European side. The most interesting thing is the language mixture of this family (five languages appear).

A Syrian woman tells us another complicated story:
“In the year of 1976 I immigrated to Sweden as a refugee. I was only seven years old and I came with my elder sister and two consigns who also were in our age. The reason we had to flee was because of the war that started between Greece and Turkey about Cyprus in 1974. This war influenced us Assyrian people because we are Christian orthodox as the Greek people, and somehow the Turkish people took out their revenge by putting us in trouble by starting war with us. Of course there were more reasons both political and economical issues that mattered, but by the war between Turkey and Greece they found a reason to start bothering us.
In 1975 a year after things got worse and because the Assyrian people didn’t have the strength to defend them selves many started to flee mostly to Germany and Sweden. This year two of my uncles and their family flew to Sweden. Short after this my family got divided so me and my sister and two cousins ended up in the Monastery where my uncle stayed and we had no contact with our families. Because of the bad circumstances my uncle started preparing for us to also flee to Sweden, so a year later and that was in 1976 we started our escape. We had another cousin who at that time studied in Austria he came to Turkey to bring us to Sweden. Our escape to Sweden started by us saying goodbye to our uncle at the Monastery and from there we took a bus to Istanbul. We stayed in Istanbul for a couple of days at other relatives' home until we bought the tickets. We travelled by train and when we reached Germany we had to stay there for a couple of days because at the time the boarder to Sweden for refugees was closed. Any way we managed to sneak into the country, and I can’t describe how happy I was to see my relatives again but still I will never forget the trip it felt like a big nightmare both emotionally and physically because I felt sick in my stomach and threw up all the way during the trip. (...) Now I’m 32 years old. I live in Sweden but I’m Assyrian a Christian minority from the Middle East, and I use to live in Turkey before I moved to Sweden. I am married and my husbands name is Samir, he is 33 years old and also Assyrian. We have two sons together Ninshar who is 10 years old and Johan he is 6 years old. I have three sisters and one brother and my parents who also lives in Sweden very close to me in fact we live in the same street. I also have my relatives living close by and that means four of my Uncles from my mother's side living. Back in Turkey I have only one Uncle left and he is a headmaster of an Assyrian school that is placed in a monastery. I have only one grandparent still alive and he is my mothers father and almost hundred years old. All of us love him very much and he has always been living at one of his children’s house, because our traditions says that one should take care of the elderly people, because all of us will grow old someday.”

The moment of the separation, the travel by train and other means, the joy to meet the relatives, every moment is described with accuracy, as if that travel had been repeated lots of times in the memory of these woman, perhaps in order to understand it better as a grown-up, while, at that time, she was only seven years old and could only live it without understanding it: “After we learned the language we were placed in an ordinary Swedish class and I remember that I was a very silent child, this because the total change I had been going threw and that I still thought a lot about my family back in Turkey. I remember that the nights were worst because the thoughts would come to me and many times I cried myself to sleep. During all this time my Uncles tried to find my family back in Turkey and the organisation the Red Cross helped us search for them and after three years they found them. Since me and my sister had been given asylum to stay in Sweden, it didn’t took long time to bring the rest of my family to Sweden. At last my family could be together. It took another year for my father to join the family and he came along with my other cousins, parents and family. When I moved to live with my family things got very tense between the family and me. I’ve had struggled with strong emotions for three years and life changed a lot so I felt like a stranger among my family. I remember that I refused to eat my mothers cooking and I wouldn’t speak or touch any of them. It took a long time for my mother to persuade me that she loved me and caring about me allot. Now when I think back I realise why I reacted that way because I felt abounded by my family and now I was punishing them by not talk and care about them. But still until today what happened influences me, for an example I would never leave my children not even for a couple of days alone, because I think that they shouldn’t feel and experience what I had to go threw.”

There are three other itineraries that begin in Turkey. These are stories of Turkish people who moved to Germany. The first one is a story of a couple who comes from Sinop, a little town on the Black Sea. That's the story of a travel that begins more for the desire of doing something more in the life rather than for economical reason. The cultural variety is also for this family very important:
“Actually we are part of three different cultures: Turkish, Caucasian, Circassian. In Stuttgart and Esslingen there’s a Caucasian cultural association that cares of the traditions of this culture. Every month we meet there to chat and learn some folk dances. (...)There are obviously great differences between the two countries. In Germany your job determines and rules your life and both men and women can work. But housewives are always busy in the same occupations, they drive a pram, do the shopping, cook, clean the house. In Turkey women stay at home but they are not alone. They often meet their neighbours to chat. When we lived in Stuttgart I have tried to keep this way of living. I often stayed with my Turkish neighbours and I was very happy that even some of my German neighbours took part to it. I think they liked it very much. (...) In Stuttgart women meetings often take place. But no one from Waiblingen but me goes there. In Esslingen there is a Turkish cultural club. We meet there once a month on Saturdays to talk together, to eat, to dance.”

It seems strange to see that in these stories of travels from Turkey the starting point were neither economical reasons nor the search of better job opportunities. Perhaps it's just a chance or perhaps for the interviewer it was easier to begin a dialogue with some persons rather than with others. I don't know, but I think it is an important element against our temptation of "generalising sight", which foresees that "Every Turk who goes to Germany is poor and unemployed." There is another story of a woman from Ankara that confirms these variety of motivations and different situations at the beginning of the journey.

“I have grown-up in the outskirts of Ankara with my four brothers. We have spent a nice period of our life there, in a house we owned with a wide garden and lots of animals. My mother was a housewife and my father a worker in a factory because he didn’t finish his studies. He was very inclined to manual labours and he built our house in Turkey. He was also involved in politics. For example he provided for the rebuilding of the roads around Ankara that were in very bad conditions. Since he was one of the most popular people in the town, he was asked to be the mayor. But he couldn’t accept because my mother wanted to leave Turkey at that time. Before our emigration, my father was asked to take part in a film where he would have been the protagonist, but my mother didn’t agree. She feared her husband would become a negative person and their marriage would fail. In the field of cinema we always hear about partings and my mother couldn’t run the risk. She always said: "You have to choose between me and the children and being an actor!". My father knew she spoke seriously and he chose his family. But he still says: "I have to blame my wife if I’m not a famous actor!" (...)Our family was leading a good life and our neighbours were envious. My brothers and I were still children and almost every day one of us went back home crying, because someone from the neighbourhood hit him. This happened during the period in which many Turks decided to emigrate to Germany. To live a peaceful life again, my mother decided to come to Germany. I think what I’m going to say now is very important: we usually think that Turkish women have nothing to say. This maybe happens in the countryside, as for example in East Anatolia, but not in towns. In towns we always ask the women’s opinion, they take part in every decisions. My mother is a brave woman and my father listens to what she says. She usually takes any decisions. (...)My mother and a friend of hers came to Germany by train during the first big wave of emigrations in 1969. At the beginning she spent four weeks in North Germany, then she went to Andersbach im Tal, on the way to Stuttgart and there she found a job and an accommodation. (...) My mother came to Germany alone, first, then her five children came. I was six at that time. My father was the last to come because he still had to settle some matters in Turkey. (...) I have lived with my parents in Andersbach, first, then we moved to Backnang. I was looking for a job and I was employed in Rommelshausen as a cashier at a supermarket of Turkish specialities, "Mock". A short time later I met my husband , who was working at the same supermarket as a butcher. After our wedding we have lived in Waiblingen for a short time, then we went to Ulm, where we rented a branch of the "Mock" firm. Five years later we came back to Waiblingen where we have been living for ten years. But I have been living in Germany for thirty years.”

Our "generalising sight" hurts against another stereotyped image that we have, I mean the submission and passivity of the woman in the non-European countries: an image against which fights the author of the interview. Also the next story is told by a woman, who has gone away from Central Turkey as she was a child.
“We come from the village of Denisli where there are the famous calcareous stony terraces. My father only attended the primary school and then he worked as a shoemaker. After his wedding he had lived with his wife and their three children in his mother’s very small house. There was only a 25-sm. room. (...) As I told you my father was a shoemaker and to better cut the leather for his hand-made shoes he needed a machine. When we first came here he started working to earn enough money to buy that machine, it wasn’t so expensive and he managed to buy it in a short time. Then he realised that he could easily earn money in Germany so he decided to stay here. For my mother this long period far from her husband was really a big problem. She expected a two or three months long stay, the usual time needed by a shoemaker to sell his hand-made shoes in the near villages. After six months our neighbours began to speak evil of her: "Your husband has some lovers in Germany, he won’t come back, you can forget him". But my mother had great confidence in him. After two years my father came back to Turkey; he had all the money he had earned in his tie and when he showed it to my mother he proudly said: " Look, that’s what I earned for you and for your family! ". His children jumped for the joy in seeing all that money. " Now we’re rich " he said. My father wanted all of us to follow him to Germany and said to his wife: " I cannot live without you. We could even buy a house ". So they decided to emigrate with the whole family. We first lived in Wuringen near Cologne. My father worked, my mother was a housewife and I went to the nursery school. I soon made a good friendship with an old lady I used to go to the cemetery with. I have always been with German people till my wedding. (...) We simply decided to go away. We didn’t have to leave anything because we had nothing, our bedroom was my grandmother’s one. (...) I don’t remember our journey very well; I only know that unexpectedly a lot of people were running to the airport and we were following them. My two years elder sister was crying and I had to comfort her. My mother was carrying my four year old sister in her arms.”

“We simply decided to go away... I only know that a lot of people were running to the airport”, remembers with her children eyes our protagonist, who growth up in Germany with German people: “My father was working at the Ford Factory and he was living in a rented house. He took us to Germany during his holidays after having arranged our stay. We lived in a two bedrooms flat, a heaven compared to our life in Turkey. My father is still working there in Cologne. (...) Before our vacation we feel very homesick and we usually say: "Ah, if only we could live forever in Turkey! ". But after four weeks there we want to come back in Germany, because we don’t feel at our ease. In Turkey everything is less organised, I don’t feel safe driving a car, because the streets are very chaotic. When I stay in Turkish families, I realise that their way of life doesn’t belong to me anymore. I speak a 20 year old Turkish, because in Germany I’ve never attended a Turkish school. It’s very hard for me to understand and take part of others’ discussions. In Germany I feel better, I know German bureaucracy, streets are more beautiful, people pay more attention when they are driving. Everything is organised, that’s why one can better arrange his daily life. I simply feel better here.”

“I speak a 20 years old Turkish: when I stay in Turkish families, I realise that their way of life doesn't belong to me anymore” points out this lady who lived almost her whole life long in Germany.

Another flight and another woman tells us her story: “I was born in Lebanon and lived there with my family till I was 12. Then the war broke out. My father wanted to move from the country. He didn't sympathise with any political party, and he was afraid that he and his sons should be forced to participate in the war. He used to be a gardener and worked in the castle of the French ambassador. When the war broke out, my father was offered to accompany the ambassador to France, of course with the whole family, but my mother had a brother in Sweden, whom she hadn't seen in 13 years, so she wanted to go there. This was in 1976. (...)When we left Lebanon, we couldn't get neither our money nor our passports or visas, so my father bought false passports with Muslim names on them and we borrowed money from an aunt so we could start our long trip to Sweden. At the entrance to Sweden my father told the officers how it really was, and in 2 weeks we had our permit de sojourn. At the beginning we lived in a suburb of Stockholm. We got a flat and we could borrow money to buy furniture, things for the household and clothes. (...) In 4 months I learnt so much Swedish that I could manage pretty well. I could also help people from my own country with the language. In school we all went to a special class. The teacher talked French, so did I, so I thought that I learnt Swedish very fast, and that was very important to me. I didn't think it was that difficult! (...) My mother spent almost all the time at home taking care of the household and all the children, so she never learnt Swedish. My father wanted to "earn what he should eat", so he went to the employment exchange asking for job. He got a job as a gardener. I also started to work, and so did some of my brothers. ... at the same time I attended school. Every member of the family really did its best. I have had stern but loving parents. We spent a lot of time together. My mother was very tired almost all the time, but I think I have had a very good childhood.”

“I think I have a very good childhood!”. Any story is commonplace and similar to the other ones, even if they have the same complex difficult situations (in this last example it was the war, the sudden departure, the abandon of their homes, the acclimatisation in new circumstances), the same conquests, the same happy moments. It is similar to the structure of the tales described by Prop. According to it they are all identical as far as the sequence of the story is concerned, but for us it is always a pleasure to read them because of their creative features and inner meaning. When we see that they have the same structure we can produce new changes, new comparisons and create new tales. In these new tales we can put in ourselves, our fantasies, the mirror of our experiences. The same for these stories: each one is a provocation, gives us a picture of other countries that we don't know, of experiences that sometimes we cannot imagine. At the same time they let us look inside ourselves and so we can find ourselves, our way of thinking and understanding.
In every story we find the same richness and variety which characterises the life of each one of us. There are no uninteresting stories. The difference among these stories is the "extreme" situation where they took place, in a moment of change, of cultural transformation.

This woman who said she had had a very good childhood tells us one of these "extreme" experiences: “I married in 1981 to a cousin, His father was killed in Turkey, and his family wanted that he should come to Sweden. It wasn't love between us from the beginning, but a chance for him to come and be allowed to stay in Sweden. He was nice and kind and we made a family. We have 4 children, 2 boys and 2 girls, The eldest and youngest are girls. They are 17,13, 12 and 6 years old. (...) After 4 years the family moved to Gothenburg. Brothers to the man, who killed my grandfather, moved to Stockholm, so my father didn't want to stay there. My father wanted to live in a big town, so the whole family moved here. After one year and a half, my future husband got visa to Sweden. My father asked me if I could think of the possibility to marry him. He didn't force me at all, but I felt pity for my cousin, so I said yes. This was the only way for him to stay in Sweden. We had a small wedding-ceremony. My husband didn't have any money, but I had been working for some years, so I had a small amount in the bank. At that time I was 18 years old. I think that I'm happy. Of course it took time to know each other. We had come from different cultures and spoke different dialect. He was grown up in a small village and I in big cities. We don't have many interests in common, but we have learnt to give and take.”

Among the territories of the ex Ottoman Empire there is also the ex-Yugoslavia which is nearer to us with its still present catastrophe.
“My husband has been living in Germany since May 2nd 1992. He had just begun a seasonal work and got a three-month residence permit. At that time I was still in Bosnia with my children. Then on June 11th war broke out. On that day I got two sandwiches ready in a rush for my children, I put some clothes in a suitcase and I ran away to the mountains with my son. My daughter was at my mother’s house. I was living fearing that I couldn’t be able to see Jelena still alive, but 12 days later I managed to go to my mother and fetch her. We spent 2 or 3 months in the mountains with our relatives and acquaintances. Sometimes we went back home to see how life was going on, but we couldn’t sleep because we were frightened. At that time I used to sleep very little because I feared someone could spot me. In the meantime a huge part of our village was burning and the situation in the near villages was very serious too. The Serbians were sacking houses, clearing out the furniture, taking doors and windows off their hinges, or just destroying them. Our house was like a pigsty. All the people who had lived there once had to leave. It has been a unique disaster. My father was killed on the first day of war by a Serbian neighbour of ours. Thank God I didn’t witness the murdering. I learnt it from my neighbours and my mother told me about it some time later .A lot of my neighbours and of my acquaintances were killed during the war .In my home village there was no one more and my mother too had left Bosnia . Now she is living in Croatia with my sister who is married with a Croatian man. Lots of my relatives are now living in Croatia, a beautiful but very poor country. It’s hard to find a job there. I decided to follow my husband to Germany for my children, mostly. On August 2nd we took a bus to go there. We had to pay some marks each for the trip, we had neither our passports nor our documents. Besides my husband was already in Germany as well as a part of my family(my brother and my sister).”

There is another story from Bosnia. Also in this case the flight is recent and the remembrance of her country is fresh and painful.

“I was born in Bosnia, in the second biggest town, who has about 300,000 inhabitants. My family consisted in father, mother, my two brothers and me. My father worked in a factory and my mother took care of the family. I went to school, first the compulsory school, which is 8 years in Bosnia and later on I went to collage. After school I worked in an assurance company for 21 years. Then I was fired. It was the privilege of the employer to treat the staff as he wanted. If you were of different opinion for example, you could get fired at once. There was no trade union. I couldn't get my living and then the war broke out. (...) I had met a man and we got a little boy. My whole family began to feel unsafe because of the war. We didn't want to fight. So we started to think of a future in another country. We had heard that it was possible to come to Sweden. All of us, except my husband, decided to go to Sweden. My husband wanted to stay in Bosnia. He felt that he should stay and help his people. We brought just the most important things and departed. Its hard to describe the feelings I had when I, for the last time, locked our door. I still have the key. However, I felt that it was a right decision. We had already awful experiences from the war: People we knew had been killed. My son still has terrible memories. (...) We went by bus, train and ferry. It took 3 days to come here. We didn’t know any people in Sweden and we have lived in different places, but for the last three years we live in Gothenburg. From the very beginning I started to learn Swedish. I'm very anxious to do things by myself, and I don't want to ask for help from an interpreter in my daily life. And I'm running it pretty well. I can manage shopping, the dentists and the doctors.”

“And I'm running it pretty well”, says this lady from Bosnia, talking this time about the problems of daily life and not about the tragedy of the war. I found similar expressions in other stories. It's the same statement we use for pupils up against their tasks in the school, when we want to point out their difficulties in becoming adults. This difficulty is also due to the institutions which menace to let pupils "fail" rather than to spur them. “I hope I get it off” is the title of a famous book-diary of a teacher which was published few years ago. For many immigrants, especially for the refugees who were constrained to flee suddenly, it doesn't mean a simple abandon or interruption of their own life projects. It means a new beginning from a moment of their life they had already acquired, to get off in common social situations such as the simple dialogue to the doctor's or the simple daily "tasks" without depending from other persons.

There are two other stories started in Bosnia and arrived in Sweden.

Husband: “I came here when I was 32 years old and have been here for 5.5 years. We are both ready to take any job that we can find. I have worked in several projects (6) and it is hard not to find steady work.”
Wife: “I worked during some months here in Gothenburg, my brother lives here. When the war came we received help from him; he paid the trip to Sweden from Bosnia.”
“We are married and have two children 9 and 4 years old. Adisa is born in Bosnia and Ilma is born in Sweden.”
“Grandmother lives here in Bergsjön, grandfather lives in the USA. My husband's brother lives here in Gothenburg with his family.”
“I worked in the textile-industry as a repairer.”
“I worked in the wood- industry with furniture and upholstering. We both have 3 years of education in our field off work. In Bosnia we lived in the city in our own house. During our free time we liked going to the movies, pick-nicks and swimming. We also had various social activities with friends from work and their families our relatives and other friends. About religion: we are both Muslims.”
“It is hard for a younger man we worked in a factory, we were 3000 in my factory and in hers 1200.The situation of not having work makes it hard to plan life. (...) If we know that it is hard to get a job in Sweden, when.... The war came it did not matter. I had worked for 8 years when I came here and that is the only thing I want just a job and no welfare benefits. The social assistant questioned the buy of a television for 6000 SKr, it was a normal TV nothing extra. She also asked why I have a car; I have a car worth about 20000 SKr not a 100000 SKr. I feel those welfare offices in different areas and different social assistants have different rules and policies. Ex. in a town called Stenungsund a fellow Bosnian has a car worth 100000 and was not questioned. In my case I rather buy cheap clothes to be able to have the car. We have also had problems with getting taxi expenses paid when we have had to take the children to hospital.”

Another war story of a woman from Vlasenica near Sarajevo.

“I’m divorced. We live in a part of Gothenburg that is called Bergsjön. We have a flat with 3 rooms and kitchen, bathroom. I've got a job in my daughter's school, Bergsjöskolan. I work as teacher's assistant. Home in Bosnia I have my father. He lives in Sarajevo with my stepmother and my halfbrother. My mother died when I was 3 years old. I have a 3-year-older brother in Germany. He left Bosnia when the war started. I grew up in a little town called Vlasenica. We lived in a house of our own. I went to Sarajevo to study at the university. Since my family also had a house in the mountains I spent a lot of time there with my friends. This house doesn't belong to us anymore. After university I got a job at the mine-company as an economist. I also had 18 private clients.”
“When and where did you raise a family?”
“I was married in ‘84. Filis was born in ‘85.We lived in Sarajevo. I was divorced in —90.”
“After the divorce I worked in Vlasenica and lived in Sarajevo. Filis spent most of her time with her grandparents.”
"Why did you emigrate?"
“It was because of the war and I had my daughter to think about.”
“Why did you emigrate to Sweden?”
“Because I knew a lot about Sweden, industries, hospitals, high standard, weapon industry,etc. I had also studied Swedish literature; Strindberg, Lundquist. I knew about your beautiful nature. I had some relatives and friend that had worked here. I had heard many nice things about Sweden.”
“How did you come here?”
“We went by bus through Hungaria,Tjeckia,Poland and we crossed the Baltic Sea by ferry. We came to Ystad and from there we went to Gothenburg.”
“Was it difficult to get a residence permit?”
“It took almost a year to get one and that was because of the big amount of refugees at that time.”
“Did you have any relatives here in Sweden?”
“No, not in the beginning, but after a while my cousin and his family came here. They now live in a town called Uddevalla. Not far from Gothenburg, My ex-husband has moved here as well and his parents too.”
“When did you came to Bosnia?”
“We were there in the winter of-96.We had plans of moving home again. But it was impossible, because people looked upon me as a betrayer. I had left my country for a nice time in Sweden, they thought. It was not possible for them to understand that I had suffered as well, in an other way, though. Before this war in Kosovo and Serbia ( in March) broke out we had planned to visit Bosnia in summer —99. But now we don't know. Anyhow we have Swedish passports now…….”
“How often do you visit your country?”
“Have you got any contacts with Bosnia?”
“Yes, I have my father, stepmother and my halfbrother still living in Bosnia. I speak on the phone with them. I buy Bosnian magazines, because I would not like to forget my country.”
“How about friends here in Sweden?”
“I've got both Bosnian and Swedish friends. It doesn't matter to me where people come from. It's more important how they behave and what kind of persons they are.”

From Bosnia to Albania. Another story of flights. This time we meet in our family portrait two persons who, some years ago, were on a famous ship overfull of people. The picture of this ship was very famous in Italy and permeated our thoughts: it would be interesting to see what kind of sensations remained.

Husband: “We landed in Brindisi in March 1991 with the ships that carried the first Albanian refugees. We were clandestine, we didn’t have any residence permit. We were in Brindisi for 2 weeks , in a gym. Voluntaries gave us something to eat We suffered a lot in those first weeks. Then we were transferred to Taranto in a camping. We lived in a tent.”
Wife: “We have been there for 4 months; during that period we prepared all the documents to put our situation in order. Then we arrived here in the Marches. Many town councils were ready to help Albanian families and so we went here. When we arrived they lodge us in a Primary school, during the Summer, then in October they transferred us to another school, where we lived for 2 years (...) we got married here, in this town in 1992, 14th November. We didn’t know each other in Albania, we met during the journey to Italy. When we got married our first child was already born since a few months. Her name is Marina just like the town where we finally arrived.”
“How do you feel in a foreign Country, without any relatives or friends, with a family and little children?”
“It was, and it still is, hard because of the language and different habits. Here it was a completely different kind of life.”
“For example, what was different?”
“All: the way you speak, cook and live, your timetables and then the habits with children, paediatricians, diets, food....all! Further more, when Marina was little we didn’t have a car, my husband worked all the day and I was stuck at home on my own, I couldn’t go anywhere. Luckily people are very nice here and helped us a lot.”
“Yes, we behave well and we also found at our ease with other people.”
“Could you speak Italian when you arrived?”
“Just a little, a very little. But you learn in a short time when you need to speak. For example, our way to say -Yes- is shaking the head from right to left but you mean -No- in this way. On the contrary when we say -No- we shake the head in the same way you mean -Yes-. So when we were in Brindisi there was a hunger strike and voluntaries came and asked us if we were hungry: we answered -Yes- in our way and they understood -No-; so we didn’t eat anything. You must learn fundamental things as soon as possible and then ...with time...the language is a necessity and in time you learn it. (...) In Albania I finished a hotel-management school. Mimosa attended a mechanic school and worked in a machine shop of the Albanian Rail. We lived in Durazzo.”
“That is our Country. We would like to move again to Albania if the situation changes, because here it is very difficult to scrape a living with only one salary and four people. It is different for someone who was born here, he works, he has got a family, he builds his house, he rests on a solid basis, he has got a support. All is harder for us because when we arrived we had nothing but our clothes and we had to start from scratch. And it isn’t easy. During these seven years I never worked, I can’t do it with my little children and without any relatives or friends helping me. Here in Italy it is not possible to leave children at home on their own.”

This couple of Albanians succeeded in the first years of stay in Italy to save the money to buy a room and open a bar in Durazzo. Their project of coming back dissolved with the crisis in 1996.
“When we came here in 1991 we thought we would have worked in order to get some money and to invest it in Albania. I worked a lot and we built a little café in Golem, on the beach of Durazzo. During that period many people, Italian too, invested their money in Albania even because workers had cheap salaries.”
“It was easy to invest for all the people and we too, we succeeded with a few economies. Adriatico worked every single day.”
“Then in 1996 all crumbled because of the financial crisis.... nobody is working there, because there is no social life at all. All has disappeared. At night people don’t go to cafés, they shut themselves in their houses. So our project vanished. Many people had our same experience, they worked a lot to come back but they were mistaken.”
“All those sacrifices for nothing.”
“Have you ever been in Albania?” asks the Albanian lady, and I explain that few months ago I had to make a journey but then I had to renounce. “Life is dangerous. You’ve done the right thing because you didn’t go to Albania", the husband points out: "I was there last time at Christmas time, it was really ugly to see that situation of danger. But I go there because it is my country, I miss it, I have my relatives and I know how and where I can walk, I know how to act.”
“Next years we’ll see what we will be able to do. For us it is not the same thing than for Tunisians or Moroccans, that came here only because of job. They have a safe country, they can go back if they want, there is no danger. In Albania we don’t what will happen, if and when the situation will be better. At that moment perhaps we will decide what to do, we and our children, that learn and grow-up here.....”
“Yes, heaven knows what our children will decide to do.....”

Some Greeks who now live in Germany tell us stories of other journeys from the Balkans. These started some years ago and are told through children's eyes. Some of them began more than once and were made of departures, come backs and new departures, as if these people were commuters between two countries.
“In 1966 my parents went back to Greece to open a supermarket in Igoumenitsa with the money they earned and for four years they have tried to make money with their grocery, but with no results. The Greek population was undergoing a military dictatorship (1967-1974), life was not easy at all and lots of people left the country. Since Greece was not a part of the EC and to go to Germany we needed the invitation of a member of our family and the confirmation to have a job. My mother's brother was working in Leonberg for the Gezi firm that needed new workers. When my father decided to go back to Germany, he could prove he had a job, so in 1970 the whole family moved to Stuttgart's surroundings.”

Other "commuters": “My sister studied Germanistics at the University of Stuttgart while I opted for Anglistics and Romanic studies. In 1985, after six semesters, I left the University of Stuttgart to attend the University of Tessalonica. Soon afterwards I started teaching and in 1996 I came back to Germany with my family this time. (...)In Greece we had built a house, we had debts and we wanted to pay our house with the money I earned as a teacher abroad. So we decided to emigrate for economic advantages. (...) At the Ministry in Athens some places as teacher in Germany were assigned. I produced my application and my request to be sent to Baden-Wurttemberg was consented. Since my husband had found a job near Backnang I decided to teach English three days in Waiblingen and one day in Reutlingen. We thought it would be convenient to live near Waiblingen, so we started to look for a flat and we found one in Fellbach-Schmiden. (...) Since 1986 I have lived in Joannina, first alone, then with my family. Joannina is in the Northwest part of Greece, at the border with Albania. There live about 120,000 people. There a University, a large University clinic and other medical structures. At the beginning we lived in a rented flat, in 1988 we got married and two years later we began building our new house. In August 1996 we moved there and ten days later we left for Germany. In practise, we have never dwelt in our new house. We have just spent our holidays there, twice. After our return we are going to live there, we are so happy!”
“Where do you live here in Germany?”
“We live in a beautiful and bright rented flat. It is 85 s. m. large at the 14th  floor of a building. The building is not so new. I think it was built in 1968, but since the most people living there are owners there are often some renewals. Its location is enviable, it’s encircled by parks, sporting fittings and playgrounds. The building is the only “skyscraper” of the area, you can also have a beautiful view from the top.”

That's a story of a Greek woman, 36 years old; that's a journey that needed a lot of departures:
“My parents lived in a village in Greece; there were no factories there and it was difficult to satisfy the hunger of a big family only with the agriculture (…) Life conditions were very bad, there was a lot of poverty (…) when they heard that in Germany they were searching for workers they decided to emigrate (…) They arrived in Germany in 1965 with a luggage and they were sheltered in a hospitality centre in Cologne. I was only 2 years old as my family emigrated and so I remained in Greece by my grandparents. But parents lived well in Germany and so they brought me there 3 years after. My first impression of the German people was awful. Our first owner of the house was a terrible woman; she interdicted to use the toilets in the floor and because of that I had a pyelitis and still today I have chronic problems in the vesica. After the birth of my brother my parents searched for a new house and the owners, an old couple, were grandparents for me. We have spent wonderful years there and made incredible experiences. I was obliged to attend two different schools, the German one in the morning and, in the afternoon, a taxi carried me to the Greek school in Zuffenhausen, and I also had tasks at home. It lasted two years, then my mother realised I couldn't resist to this double stress. So I decided to go back to Greece at the age of 9, and I lived by the other grandparents who raised tobacco. I finished there the Greek school, I had a lot of free time and good friends but I felt more and more nostalgia for my parents. I wanted them to come back to Greece, but since they desired to stay in Germany they took me with them and so I came for the second time in Germany.”

We find in this example two schools, a German and a Greek one. It seems here that the German word for immigrants (Gastarbeiter = workers-hosts) has been taken literally and so the "hosts" were always prepared to go back home. In the following story that always starts in Greece it seems that the host tries to feel at home and definitively.

“In Greece, my parents and my husband's ones used to live in large families in the country side. In that zone there were a few well-off landowners. Our families had no possessions, they were very poor and lived on the vegetables and fruits they grew on their own. At Easter a sheep was traditionally killed, otherwise for the rest of the year there was no meat. We used to wear our clothes till they were worn out and that means 8 children with the same coat, by turns.. (...)My father went to Germany alone, his wife and one- year old son were still in Greece. At the beginning my father lived in a single flat in Waiblingen. 2 years later his wife and son came to Germany, but the conditions of life were totally chaotic: a kitchenette, a wash-basin, a table, some beds and clothes spread on the cloth! All this in single room. My parents worked at just the opposite times: my father stopped at 2.30 p.m. when my mother started. Therefore they never met and my brother was alone every day for at least an hour. But it wasn't so usual to have a baby sitter at that time. In spite of all these problems my father never thought to let his wife and son go back to Greece. They wanted to live in Germany as a family.”

Now the story of a Polish woman who emigrates in Germany. In this story we perceive a sort of estrangement towards the borders dividing the two countries. These borders were often changed during the history and caused massive displacements of populations in both directions. These were not easy, because here - as in the Ottoman Empire and in many other places - the variety of ethnic groups and languages in the same territories was very large. Here too, the resoluteness to move in a new country is very strong and long time desired.

“My parents had already asked to emigrate in vain. In 1984 they got a visa as visitors, but they decided to stay in Germany. It has not been a problem because my father is German. My brother was working at that time and he was living a safer life than in Poland. I was already married, we have lived in Poland till 1990. Our children were still young and our life was humble. When my first son was born I was unemployed and my husband had lost his job. My parents were in Germany from 1984. They always invited us to go there because life was better than in Poland, for our children above all. We had tried to emigrate to Germany several times before 1990, but we couldn’t because of bureaucratic problems. Once we got a visa as visitors to go and see my parents. Not to let us trying to stay in Germany to live, we were parted: I managed to go to Germany with my son first, then my husband with the other two children. On April 15th 1990 we came to Germany with the whole family, at last. (...) We did it for material reasons. (...)I have always been sure I would have gone to Germany sooner or later. My father has always grown in me the idea I was German, not Polish. After my marriage I wanted to stay for a little longer in Poland. But our financial situation got worse and I changed my mind.”

Last but not least, two stories of Italian families that will end this metaphoric travel around the world. They tell us their itineraries from four different points of Italy, direction Germany. They let us indirectly think that the European integration process began with the immigrants; they allow us (and me in particular, since I am Italian) to look at ourselves in the mirror.

“My father grew up in Lecce, A 90.000 inhabitants city in Apulia. His family (four brothers and four sisters) has experienced the second World War and misery during the post war period. In Germany they were looking for foreign workers for rebuilding. My father was a carpenter and he was sent to Hochdorf-Vaihingen on the near Enz river in 1960. My mother is from Sardinia, she used to work as a hairdresser in a village and to help her parents in the country. She thought her life in the island was humble and she went to work as an au-pair girl to the north of Italy. Since she didn’t feel at ease there, she emigrated to Germany in 1961 with her brother. At Stuttgart-Feuerbach she started working as a hairdresser again. My parents met there and got married in 1963. But they went back to Sardinia because they couldn’t find a suitable flat. (...) As I was saying, my parents went back to Sardinia after their wedding to live there together. First of all, my brother was born and two years later I was born. My father was working in a carpentry but he had so little income that my family could hardly pay the rent. He was always asking his boss for an advance to be able to feed his family. But my mother was used to a quite easy life in Germany and she didn’t want to buy on credit in Italy. They decided that my father had to come back to Germany to earn enough money because we were living an unbearable situation. (...) At the beginning he lived in Hochdorf-Vaihingen near the Enz river. Then he moved to Neckarrems because he had find a better job. My brother and I have grown up there. I have been living in Waiblingen since I got married. (...)My husband would go back to Calabria because almost all his family is still living there. Only his elder brother is living in Germany. My husband is fond of shooting, but he can’t have the permit here. On the one hand I would like to stay in Germany because I got used to German way of thinking and because we managed to have a certain kind of life. On the other hand I like Italian life style as well: people live spontaneously without any worries. In the morning they hang out the clothes with their neighbours, wearing a pyjama and with their curlers on. During the day they do any kind of job. On the contrary in Germany, we go out well- dressed and we run from an appointment to the other. I obviously dislike some Italian habits: When I’m on holidays I sometimes do the shopping at the market with my sister-in-law. There we always bargain even for cheap things. She is a master in doing that so when I’m with her I feel a bit ashamed because I’m not used to it. In Germany I always pay the right price. If I don’t negotiate, in Italy, I’m cheated. Another big problem is the condition of the sanitary security in the country side. There is only one general practitioner available. On the contrary in Waiblingen, I can choose the best doctor among a lot of good ones. My husband has been trying for long to lay the bases for our return to Italy. We bought a house in a small village on the mountains. It has a wide garden with some olive trees and our house is near my husband’s parents’ one. It’s a very quiet place, the air is pure and the sea side is not far at all. It’s a dream! The best place where we can relax from the German daily stress. But I’m not sure I could live in this isolation for long. My two daughters want to stay in Germany.
The 12 years old daughter points out: In the village where our house is, there are no discos, no cinemas, no stylish shops. There are only three shops, a butcher, a bakery and a grocer. The nearest town is some kilometres far. The last time we went on holidays there, the local school was closed for a long time because of a rats infestation. Hundreds of rats inside that old school, horrible! The Karolingerschule in Waiblingen is a beautiful and modern school. Most part of the teachers are really smart and I have a lot of friends.”

It's interesting to see this mythical portrait of Italy of this lady which is similar to the mythical portraits of their country made from the Africans or the Dominicans who affirm that life in Italy is full of stress and hurry, typical German characteristics for this lady.
The "mythical" and the "real" portrait coexist, when she confesses that she prefers the stress of the city instead of the isolation of the village. Moreover the daughters and sons feel "German", they feel at home there. The daughters represent the third generation that has already solid "roots". The two former generations were still wanderers or hosts and had strong relationships with their country and with the community of compatriots moved to Germany. Both generations are made of couples of compatriots who met and got married in Germany.
We can see something similar in the story of another Italian family, father, mother (47 and 43 years old) and three daughters (20, 16 and 8 years old).
“When I came to Germany from Naples 26 years ago, I was still a single. I met my wife, who’s from Calabria, at the Stihl firm where we were both working. We got married in 1976 (...) My father came to Germany in 1970 and he used to send us some money to Italy. One day he asked me if I wanted to go there to work for a year. He had planned to buy a flat in Italy with the money we would have earned together. I accepted and I came to Germany. During that period I met my wife and that’s why I never went back to Italy. (...) At the beginning it was not so easy. I was just 22. I had to leave all my friends and my girlfriend and it was very hard for me and so was my parting from my mother and my ten brothers and sisters who were very sad because I was leaving to Germany. (...)Three or four years after my wedding I wanted to go back to Italy, but my wife didn’t agree. She liked life in Germany. I forgot about it when I realised I couldn’t get a job suited for me in Italy. My father too agreed with my choice to stay in Germany. (...)In Italy I used to work as a wholesale electric outfitter. I mended all kind of electrical household appliances, refrigerators, washing-machines and so on. At the beginning in Germany I have worked as a labourer at a yard. I’ve been working at the Stihl firm for 20 years. I take the place of some workers who can’t come to work for any reasons and I work for about two hours waiting another to replace me. Sometimes I arrange the sawing machines that are sold all over the world with mechanical power lifts. My wife is working at the assembly-line. She always does the same thing..”

That' s the picture we made of all our protagonists who came from every part of the world who cannot be "analysed" in the same scheme. I just introduced the stories, I made a sort of inventory. But it was enough to let us comprehend that these stories are not simple tales that we insert in the archives or inventories in order to find and use them sometimes. They are something more, they start and develop in far towns we didn't know; now we are curious to know them. They are stories we have to understand, stories of difficulties and of real, concrete adaptations with an uncertain development. Our attention should be focused more on the evolution of the stories and not on their rapid final result. We should analyse how people try to face their own situation. So, perhaps, we will understand why we talk of a "final" result or of a "end of the journey": the itinerary doesn't end and involves everybody. We also realise that our picture is not complete because we, interviewers and translators in the different languages, we are not there. We should be the first who analyse the development. So I decided to change the "normal" scheme of many researches; instead of presenting the "research methodology" at the beginning or at the end, as it were a simple technical aspect, I chose to insert it in this "collective roman" , in the second part I'm going to introduce.

"I close this first part citing the words of Mohamed El Hasani, who took part to the planning of this work: "I am very happy of the opportunity I had of working here in Italy for such a long time in the centre for immigrants, as stranger in Italy and in contact with other strangers, strangers not only for you but for me too, since they came from different countries and had ways of living, of thinking, habits and culture totally different from mines. It was a very interesting experience. I can say I had the opportunity, in Italy, of knowing the whole world, through those people coming from everywhere. Through them I could know different experiences and understand that in the world you can find lots of different opportunities, ways of living, of thinking, of solving the problems, and that was for me a cultural enrichment."