Entry 35: Concetta Sprinted - Cuncia Curriu Fuiendu

Location: Calabria, Italy

Date: Late 1940’s

Concetta and her husband Salvatore had access to ‘una tumilata’ (approximately ⅓ of a hectare) of prime land in the neighbouring district of San Leo. Its location close to a fresh water reservoir, known as a ‘mastra’, made the plot ideal for planting and growing vegetables. The precious water flowed down from the mountains, was collected in the man-made catchment and diverted along open channels to the vegetable gardens. It was a well-maintained system, giving farmers individual control of water usage, thereby enabling them to irrigate their own section of crops as needed.

This prized, parcel of land is the setting for where the story begins.

One autumn day, a heavily pregnant Concetta and her daughters Angelina and Cecilia were picking red, vine ripened tomatoes. They were busy filling their bamboo ‘panari’ when all of a sudden, Concetta’s water broke. “Mi scappau laqqua,” she thought. She turned to Cecilia and told her to go and fetch the midwife. To Angelina she exclaimed, “Iamunindi a casa.” Without waiting for a response, Concetta dashed off, heading towards her home, leaving the ‘panari’ of tomatoes behind. Cecilia ran in the opposite direction to alert the midwife, while Angelina also started running - chasing after her mother in what would become a race against time: ‘A Cuncia fughia e Angelina fughia appressu.’

Concetta ran along the edge of the ‘mastra’, each step splashing chilly water against her long dress, her shoes sinking into the sand with the track of footprints instantly disappearing under ankle deep water - yet, she still maintained a steady pace. Angelina followed, running as fast as she possibly could to keep up. Upon reaching a dirt track, Concetta remained in the lead, with her devoted daughter trailing behind; no matter how fast Angelina ran, she couldn't catch up to her mother. It was here, surrounded by low scrub, while sprinting at maximum speed that Angelina unexpectedly collided into the path of a black snake. There was nothing either young girl or reptile could do to avoid the collision. The momentum lifted the snake up off the ground and it was carried against Angelina’s leg, dragged along for several strides before freeing itself from her body – and silently, escaping into the grass, slithering out of sight. Angelina didn’t stop, nor did she break her rhythm. Her focus remained fixed on her mother ahead.

Relieved to have finally reached her cottage safely, and especially thankful she had arrived in time for the birth to happen at home, Concetta instructed Angelina to quickly go and get her grandmother: “Vai e chiama a Nanna Angela.” Dependable as always, Angelina did what she was told, arriving at her grandmother’s house exhausted and out of breath. “Ghiti lla ssutta,” she panted. “A mamma vi voli.”

“Go down to where we live. Mum needs you.”

Nanna Angela immediately sensed what was happening; there was no need to ask any questions. This was one of those moments where intuition was more powerful than spoken words. Understanding the situation, she dropped everything - it was now her turn to run: ‘Nanna Angela scappau!’

As the whirlwind of drama swirled around his wife, Salvatore and his friend Don Simone were enjoying their day hunting for wild quails, completely unaware of the events unfolding at home. Later that afternoon, armed with their ‘tibbotti’ (shotguns), 12 gauge ammunition and carrying the produce of a successful hunt, they returned to a tranquil Moschilla cottage. Perhaps ‘tranquil’ is not the correct term in describing a household now bustling with eight children ranging in age from a teenager to a newborn. Regardless, the excitement leading up to the birth had definitely calmed down. When Salvatore entered the house to meet his daughter for the first time, she made an instant and lasting impression on him. The baby was already wrapped neatly in a linen swaddling cloth. Lying snug and comfortable in the ‘fascia’, with only her little face peering out, Salvatore was surprised to see his daughter gazing back at him with wide, curious eyes. Returning to inform Don Simone - who was respectfully waiting outside, he declared to his friend, “Chista si spusa prestu ca nesciu cu l’occhi aperti!”

“This one will get married early. She is born with her eyes open!”

Salvatore picked up his ‘tibbotti’ and loaded a couple of cartridges into the chambers. As a new father, it was his duty to announce the birth to the neighbours. Based on local customs, this was done using an old, well established code. Pointing the 'tibbotti' towards the sky, he fired two shots into the air. An even number of shots – either 2 or 4 – indicated the baby was a girl. An odd number – 3 or 5 – signalled the baby was a boy. Upon hearing the shots and determining the place where the sound came from, the good news was received by multiple neighbours at the same time: “Ah! A Cuncia ccattau na fimminella.”

“Ah! Concetta delivered a baby girl.”

As Concetta rested and recovered from childbirth, Salvatore was conscious of the fresh quails that needed to be cleaned and quartered, ready for dinner. He was certain that his mother-in-law, Angela, would help with cooking and feeding his hungry family in time for their meal. But first, before starting the task of preparing the quails, he was going to check on his wife once more.

Concetta and Salvatore named their eighth and final child Giuseppina. She was a beautiful baby: ‘Fora malocchiu iera pulita chista figgliolella.’

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EXTRA INFORMATION 1

The rolled up ‘fascia’ shown in the photograph is an original swaddling band used by Concetta’s niece, Angela Caccamo. Angela packed it as a keepsake when she emigrated from Calabria. Still in excellent condition, it is now over 70 years old.

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EXTRA INFORMATION 2

Retelling part of the story in the Calabrese dialect

English Translation: When Giuseppina was born, Salvatore and Don Simone were out hunting. When they returned home, Salvatore entered the bedroom and saw his daughter (gazing back) with wide open eyes. He went outside and said to Don Simone, "This baby is born with her eyes open - she will get married early!"

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EXTRA INFORMATION 3

The midwife, who Cecilia was given the task to notify, was an elderly woman in her 70s. Although she had no formal training in the profession, she was highly skilled through experience.  She had assisted in many of Concetta’s deliveries, and as the children grew up, they affectionately called her ‘Zia Maria’ (Aunty Maria) even though they were unrelated. In this region of Siderno, she was referred to as ‘a lavatrici’ - which translates to midwife.