“… As I have thought, so it will be; as I have determined, so it will take place"
(Isaiah 14: 24-32)
And it so happened that on October 18, on their next birthday here at VO, many of his regulars began to congratulate me and I thought how good it was that the feeling of gratitude is a property of human nature, which, by the way, is shamelessly used by both advertisers and PR people. And I wanted, in turn, to thank both those who expressed various pleasant words addressed to me, and those who just thought about themselves well, and even those who did not think anything, but just went to the site and read the material, something like that. special. That is, an article of a memorable character on some unusual topic, not about tanks, not about knights, not about castles, and not even about how Soviet (and tsarist) journalists destroyed their powers, but about something … philosophical, but at the same time specific and interesting. I strained the "styrofoam" and it was then that it dawned on me: and I'll write about … "black face" or that everything is predetermined!
These postcards were very popular in Italy during the war years in Abyssinia! "In the mail:" I would like to send a friend this souvenir from East Africa ""
And it so happened that in a distant, distant childhood I often experienced a strange sensation (called déjà vu) when I took up some object, but it seemed to me that I had already held it in my hands. Our house was old, there are many antiques, and this feeling arose quite often, but I did not tell anyone from my family about it. And very strange thoughts came into my head. For example, at the age of seven, the thought occurred to me that in the future I would definitely marry a blonde and that I would have a daughter. Pretty strange thinking for a seven-year-old kid, isn't it? It would be good to dream about it at 14, but for a seven-year-old preschooler it is clearly too early to think about family and marriage.
But the man without whom all these events would have been impossible at all is Benito Mussolini. Looks pretty decent, doesn't it? Something like Adriano Celentano.
Then I began to tell everyone that … I would not be an artist, although I painted well. "All in daddy!" - those who knew my own father were touched, but I answered them that I would never become an artist. "Who will you be?" - they asked me. "A historian, like a mother!" - and it was surprising, because I had the most superficial idea of the profession of a historian. I knew that they were working at the institute. And … that's it!
He's already in power - "It's painfully you are formidable, as I can see!"
As I remember myself, I really loved to play war. He had an impressive collection of weapons, including a bolt-action rifle and was constantly running down the street, firing in all directions. “We are fighting for peace! - the politically literate neighbors exhorted my mother. - And your son only does what he plays in the war. Not good!" Now I don't remember what she answered them, but she answered something, of course. Well, and then they once asked me: "Probably, you will be a military man, since you love to play war so much?" And I answered, and I remember well that I did not think about the answer for a second: “No, I will not. I won't serve in the army at all! " "How will you not?" - in response, amazed eyes and an open mouth. "Everyone is serving, but you won't?" "I won't!" - I answered and, I remember, believed in it completely sincerely. Actually, we need to remember what time it was. Then it was necessary to be "like everyone else", to act as it should be (in "The Irony of Fate …" it is well said about this!), And then suddenly "this". Yes, you could declare yourself a "psycho" and it happens, they arranged it, but I remember well that I had no thoughts about "kicking" myself. I just knew that I would not serve and that was all. And how, why - is unknown. In the second grade, I also knew for sure that I would be a journalist (!) And a writer. And it’s not clear from where, but I even saw myself in a brown leather coat and a hat, taking pictures with a camera of a certain person who enters the house of someone else’s wife (!) In order to publish his photo and shame in front of everyone. Where does this whim come from? Who would allow me to shoot such things in the USSR, let alone print? In general, my mother told me that I should not be a writer for a number of important reasons. In a word, everything in this life was against me.
"Two pair of boots" One is a fascist, the other is a Nazi, and both still believe in their chosenness. The Fuehrer of the German nation even laughs …
And then … then the fulfillment of these children's predictions began. First of all, in the novel "The Hour of the Bull" by I. Efremov, I read that many children have the ability to foresee their future, although I didn’t really believe it. The novel is fantastic! But … he met his future wife, immediately realized that it was "she", he courted her during the entire first year, after the second year he married her, and a year later we had … a daughter, of course! I saw my colleague at the institute have exactly the same coat that I saw in my mind as a child, and literally forced him to sell it to me. And I saw myself in this coat, hat and with a camera. Only not in the bushes, but on the street. Sitting in the bushes, I still didn’t take pictures of anyone!
And here already the Duce laughs. He's doing well so far!
After graduating from the institute, I had to work for three years in a rural school, and then it turned out that rural teachers were not accepted into the army. So, without putting in any effort, but simply working as intended, I did not get into the army, and how much effort and money some of the people I know put in.
And here he obviously wants to show someone "Kuz'kina's mother"
When I had to defend my candidate's daughter, I had a dream that she was defending herself not in Penza, but in Moscow, and I even saw the hall where this was happening. And when the defense took place in our "pedyushnik" and at first everything went well, I even became somewhat worried - I had reason to believe my dreams. And then … they gave her a ride there on defense and I would have to worry, get upset. And on the contrary, I calmed down: it should have been, because she was destined to defend herself in Moscow! I saw it! And that's how it happened. Soon she was offered to defend herself at a prestigious university in Moscow, and most interestingly, a few minutes before the start of the defense, the head of the council changed the hall where it was supposed to take place. I entered there and … here it is, the hall from my dream! It was the last straw that broke the back of a camel - this is what they usually say about this in the East. After that, it would be stupid not to believe in predestination, right ?!
But the funniest story, which finally convinced me that absolutely everything is predetermined, only we ourselves do not know this, literally just happened. I wrote material about Crete, and the song of the Italian communists "Bandera Rossa" was remembered there. I really liked this song, and besides, I knew it by heart, because I studied at a special school, where it was fashionable, in addition to English songs, to sing songs in various other languages. It was called "international education", but there was nothing bad about it.
No, whatever you say, but Hitler was still a little smarter than Mussolini. Well, why did he put so many tsatsek on himself, not a boy, after all …
And I loved to sing and how Chuk at Gaidar's (or Gek, I don't remember exactly) sang very loudly. But apart from this song I had another favorite song, and it was also Italian.
I recognized her from an Italian movie, the name of which I don't remember now. That is, I watched it in the early 60s. The plot is as follows: a corporal of the Italian army at the end of World War II is carrying a large suitcase from the front, and in it gifts for his major's wife - salami sausages, cheeses, cognac … On the way on the train, his comrades take it all away from him … stones. All in all, the movie is funny. The corporal always finds himself in ridiculous situations, including due to the fact that the suitcase is no longer "gifts", but stones. But in the end he is killed, and he never gets to his home, although his own house is very close to the house of his major's wife. I remember that I felt very sorry for him. This is the plot, and maybe someone will even remember this film … But there was a song in Italian. The melody and words were memorable, and my memory is just fine. Therefore, I remembered both, and for the rest of my life, it happens, I sang: Fasseta Nera, Bella Abyssina, Aspetta Spera Chia Avvisina … And so many years! Half a century for sure!
And only just a couple of days ago the thought occurred to me: "Now is the age of the Internet, what if you look at what these words mean?" I typed "faccetta nera" and with horror - I can't find another word - I learned that it was an Italian fascist march, written on the personal order of Benito Mussolini himself during the Second Italian-Ethiopian War. The words "faccetta nera" in Russian mean "black face" because the song is about an Ethiopian slave who was "freed from slavery by the Italian black shirts" and taken to Rome, where she became a member of the fascist party and even met with the Duce and the king Italy by Victor Emmanuel III. Naturally, this song did not have a Russian translation for a long time. I was only glad that in the USSR people did not know foreign languages well, and especially Italian, otherwise, how would I explain this, why am I singing the march of the Italian fascists.
I wonder who's copying whom? Mussolini Hitler or Hitler spied it on Mussolini. Or did everyone come to such … "techniques" of influencing the public on their own?
From the Internet, I learned that the author of the words of the song is a certain Renato Micheli, and the music for the words was written by Mario Rucchione. And here is the text itself:
When you see the sea behind the hills
A slave who is loaded with deeds, Look at the holy ships
The tricolor brings you freedom.
Ah, Ethiopian, ah, negro, Your hour will strike, you will cease to be a servant, Eagle Italian soar
You will learn the new laws of the king.
Laws - these are the sacred vaults of love, The cry of Rome is death for debt and for freedom, And the years came to an end:
The long-awaited hour of freedom has come!
Ah, Ethiopian, ah, negro, Your hour will strike, you will cease to be a servant, Eagle Italian soar
You will learn the new laws of the king.
Ah, poor negro slave, You will come to Rome free as an Italian
And let the sun flash brightly in the sky
Illuminating the black shirt with rays!
Words and music of the song.
The funny thing, however, in this story is that it interested me and I thought it would be nice to write material about it for VO. But I would not have been interested in this topic, and I would not have known such words if I had not memorized this song in my distant childhood. And then I didn't hum it all these years, decades! That is, all this was predetermined in advance, and all this was solely for the sake of … so that my story about this same Negro slave, freed from slavery by the soldiers of the Duce, would follow!
These photos were very popular in Italy in those years!
It is clear that in fact this so-called Second Italian-Abyssinian War in Ethiopia (1935 - 1936) was a typical colonial war that Benito Mussolini started as part of his plan to turn Italy into an empire, and the Mediterranean Sea into "mare nostrum" - "Our sea" as the ancient Romans used to say. First, they say, we will conquer Ethiopia, then we will take Egypt from the British and we will live in peace and tranquility. And naturally, none of the Italians sent there to fight even thought that he would need to free some black women there. Sleeping with them is another matter!
Interestingly, immediately with the outbreak of the war in Italy, a lot of postcards of very frank content appeared, depicting precisely Ethiopian women. And the funny thing is that according to the then strict laws of "morality" these photos were considered - yes, real pornography and were prosecuted by the police according to the law, although I don't think that it was very harsh …
"Pornography" in Italian! And what? It's a Catholic country!
But it has always been and will be so that among the scum there were people with principles, and even people noble and quite decent. Those who sincerely believed in the words of their Duce about the greatness of Italy and its legal rights. And so it turned out that two young officers of the Royal Italian Army Pasqualino Chiti and Andrea Michele found a little girl about two years old on the Amba Aradam plateau. There were no parents with the child, and they decided to keep her in their unit. The military chaplain said that the foundling should be baptized. They decided to name her Mary (in honor of the Blessed Virgin) Victoria (that is, "victory", since the Abyssinians were defeated in that battle) Amba Aradam (after the name of the place where she was found). Then the soldiers put her on a mule and took her to the monastery of St. Anne in Asmara, saluted the nuns and went on to fight for the Duce. Well, and Maria Victoria in the monastery spent 20 years in the care of the sisters, she was raised and brought up there. But everyone knew her unusual story and called it “Faccetta nera”. And it so happened that the Duce was told about what had happened. He apparently realized that it would be a good "PR" and … ordered to compose a song about it. And the song, written by order of the dictator, was a success. They began to sing it, and it became popular.
This is how the heroine of this story looked in her youth.
And then what happened to Maria Victoria? She grew up, got married, had three children. In 2007 she was 71 years old. But her savior, Pasqualino Chiti, also survived, returned home and then worked as a forester for another 30 years. Once he was reading a newspaper, saw her photograph and recognized his "Black Face". It turns out that this happens not only in the movies! He immediately wrote to the Italian embassy in Asmara and found her half a century later. Upon learning that her family did not live well, he sent her money to build a new house.
And this is how Benito Mussolini and his mistress Clara Petacci ended their lives. "He did not think, he did not guess, he did not expect in any way, such an end, such an end!" I didn’t foresee it, and he didn’t have a dream "talking" either …
When he turned 91 in 2001 and was in hospital, Maria Victoria came to comfort him. She was given a residence permit for three months, but it was not renewed, although she asked very much. He died a year later and left her with a small plot of land. And she said that she wants to stay here and work on this land and that she loves Italy. "The Italians saved me from death, I speak Italian, I am a Catholic believer and I want to live in Italy." But she was never given Italian citizenship. And here is what fate - she was not needed by her people, and he, her savior - also died in his homeland alone. And they found each other … and could not comfort each other in old age. But he never managed to start a family, probably, he just didn't have time …
And finally the conclusion: an interesting story, isn't it? But I would not have been able to write it if I had not sung "faccetta nera" since childhood. And it turns out that all this happened to me just for the sake of writing about this girl, rescued by an Italian colonial soldier, on VO? And even after that they tell me that everything in the world is accidental? No, absolutely everything serves a completely specific purpose, absolutely everything is predetermined by Fate!
