Saved by the Ficara

It was September of 1943. Thirty-two years of age Maria Caterina was a solitary lady helping to take care of her younger sibling and her papa. Her 4 inconveniences were somewhere out in the war theatre of World War 2. No information has been gotten from them for quite a long time currently. Rumours circulated the town that at the very least two had been apprehended, however no-one recognized for certain.

She took the normal stroll down into the gully where her family members veggie garden lay on the steps dug out from the side of the hill.

She climbed up the ancient ‘ficara’, which meant fig tree in their neighborhood language. The base of the tree was so big that 2 individuals embracing it on contrary sides would not have the ability to join hands. She very carefully made her method up a thick branch, gradually inching her means towards parts heavily loaded with ripe figs.

She was putting on a ‘fardale’, language for an apron, and kept stuffing the pockets with fresh picked figs. She ate one, then another. They were so wonderful. She stretched out to get one particular fat juicy fruit when she thought she listened to guys’s voices. They were yelling. She stopped to pay attention. Suddenly, something exploded near the base of the tree. Dirt increased all over and she heard tiny objects whistling passed her ear, slicing down fallen leaves and also fruit as they zipped. She shut her eyes, and after that all hell broke out.

A group of soldiers came into her sight, and they were running back in the direction of the town. They were using German attires. She understood that since they had actually been occupying the town for months currently. Stone’s throw behind them were various other soldiers. They looked various and also both groups were shooting at each various other. One German obtained shot in the leg and 2 of his countrymen ordered him leaving the man’s rifle behind. She cursed as she knew she was in the center of some battle … stuck, high on the ficara.

She closed her eyes and held on to the thick branch for her dear life. There was so much shouting, yelling and guns standing out off everywhere. No-one had actually spotted her set down there, high up on the tree, but explosions proceeded. She really felt the figs turn out of her pockets as well as drop to the ground beneath her. She was as well busy holding on. It lasted just a few mins yet to Maria Caterina it really felt an eternity.

This tale was passed on to me directly by Maria Caterina, my aunt. It was interesting to hear her recount this occasion, greater than when. She died in 2006 only 2 months timid of her ninety-sixth birthday. This was her account of the Allied pressures liberating her village of Santa Caterina dello Ionio located in the highlands of Calabria, district of Catanzaro. That fig tree was absolutely ruined in the fires that experienced that location, I think around 1987.