You can do politics and protest in a thousand ways. I sing. But I’m not a singer...I’m different. Let’s say, I’m an activist who makes rallies with the guitar.
Rosa on herself [my translation]
Rosa Balistreri was born on March 21st, 1927 in Licata (in the province of Agrigento) from a poor (and also alcoholic and often violent) carpenter and a housewife. She had two sisters, Mariannina and Maria, and a brother, Vincenzo (paraplegic since birth).
Since she was a young child, Rosa had to work to help support her family. She worked as a maid with wealthy families, preserved fish, and gleaned the fields of nearby villages during summer. Singing was her only enjoyment, and soon her raspy and passionate voice started to be appreciated, to the point she was hired to sing during wedding and baptism celebrations.
Around 15-16 years old, she was married to Gioacchino Torregrossa, called Iachinazzu and whom she will later describe as “latru, jucaturi e ‘mbriacuni” (thief, gambler and alcoholic). From this marriage, a daughter, Angela, was born. True to the description his wife gave of him, at some point Iachinazzu bet his daughter’s dowry and lost it. This event must have been for Rosa the last straw, so once she found out, the enraged and desperate woman stabbed her husband with a knife. Thinking she had killed him, she turned herself to the Carabinieri. As it turned out, Iachinazzu had just been severely wounded, so Rosa was only sentenced six months.
Once she served her time, she started working as a peddler, until she left her husband and moved to Palermo together with her daughter. In Palermo, she worked as a maid for a noble family. She was able to send her daughter to boarding school, while she learnt to read and write. Everything seemed to go well until the family’s young son seduced Rosa and got her pregnant. With the (false) promise of marrying her, he convinced her to steal money from his parents. Unfortunately for her, Rosa was discovered and ran away. She was nonetheless arrested and sentenced seven months. When her time was served, she was forced to live on the street until a midwife friend took her in and helped her give birth to a stillborn son.
Thanks to the intervention of Earl Testa, Rosa was employed as keeper cum sacristan of the Church of Santa Maria degli Agonizzanti, Palermo. For a while, she lived in the sacristy’s basement together with her brother Vincenzo, until the priest attempted to assault her. The woman took revenge by stealing the church’s alms-giving and with the money, she bought two tickets for Firenze, one for her and the other for her brother.
In Firenze, Vincenzo started working as a shoemaker while she resumed her job as a maid for upper-class families. The siblings were soon joined by their sister Mariannina, and their mother. The other sister, Maria (together with her children), joined them later, following a terrible fight with her violent husband. Unfortunately for Maria, her husband followed her and, once he found his wife, he killed her. Maria’s death was a huge blow to Rosa’s family, their distraught father was so desperate he hanged himself.
In the meantime, Rosa had started a relationship with Florentine painter Manfredi Lombardi. Through him, she managed to get introduced to artistic figures like Genoese art critic Mario De Michele (who allowed her to record her first album), Sicilian poet Ignazio Buttitta (who suggested that she learnt how to play the guitar and helped her with the songwriting and the composition of the music tracks), or 1997 Nobel Prize winner Dario Fo (who hosted her in the first two editions of his theatrical show Ci ragiono e canto).
Eventually, her decade-long relationship with Lombardi would end after he dumped her for a model, causing Rosa to fall into depression and attempt to kill herself. To make things worse, her daughter Angela had abandoned boarding school because she found herself pregnant and now Rosa had to provide also for her. To her rescue came her friends from the Italian Communist Party (PCI) who allowed her to perform during the various Feste de l’Unità the Party organized in various Italian cities.
She returned to Sicily at the beginning of 1970s. No longer an unknown Sicilian émigré, she came back as an accomplished artist. In 1973 her song Terra che non senti was disqualified during the XXIII edition of Sanremo Music Festival. The disqualification occurs after the RAI denounces the song via telegram as not being an unreleased track, prompting various controversies since it seemed like the real reason Rosa was banned was that the RAI was afraid that she (a known activist with Communist ideals) might use the Festival to make some dangerous social statement in front of 30 millions of viewers. By many, she’s considered the moral winner of the XXIII edition.
In Palermo she kept singing and playing in the Teatro Biondo, as well as touring the world, performing among other in Sweden, Germany, and the USA and always being celebrated.
While in tournée in Calabria, Rosa suffered from a stroke. She was hospitalised in Palermo, in Villa Sofia Hospital, where she died on September 20th 1990, although later buried in Trespiano, near Firenze. She was 63.
Rosa’s voice, her strangled singing, dramatic, anguished, sounded as if it came from Sicily’s parched earth. I got the impression of having always known her, to have seen her being born and heard her throughout my whole life: child, shoeless, poor, woman, mother, Because Rosa Balistreri is a fantastic character, I’d say a drama, a novel, a faceless movie.
Ignazio Buttitta [my translation]
Sources
Balarm, Sanremo 1973: la grande assente Rosa Balistreri, esclusa con "Terra che non senti"
Cascio Franco, Quella volta che Rosa Balistreri fu esclusa dal Festival di Sanremo
Grasso Mario, Rosa Balistreri, la cantautrice siciliana che ha vinto contro ogni mala fortuna
Meli Cristina, Rosa Balistreri, la prima cantautrice e cantastorie donna italiana
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“ Stavano, con le loro valige di cartone e i loro fagotti su un tratto di spiaggia pietrosa, riparata da colline, tra Gela e Licata: vi erano arrivati all'imbrunire, ed erano partiti all'alba dai loro paesi; paesi interni, lontani dal mare, aggrumati nell'arida plaga del feudo. Qualcuno di loro, era la prima volta che vedeva il mare: e sgomentava il pensiero di dover attraversarlo tutto, da quella deserta spiaggia della Sicilia, di notte, ad un'altra deserta spiaggia dell'America, pure di notte. Perché i patti erano questi: "Io di notte vi imbarco" aveva detto l'uomo: una specie di commesso viaggiatore per la parlantina, ma serio e onesto nel volto "e di notte vi sbarco: sulla spiaggia del Nugioirsi, vi sbarco; a due passi da Nuovaiorche… E chi ha parenti in America, può scrivergli che aspettino alla stazione di Trenton, dodici giorni dopo l'imbarco… Fatevi il conto da voi… Certo, il giorno preciso non posso assicurarvelo: mettiamo che c'è mare grosso, mettiamo che la guardia costiera stia a vigilare… Un giorno più o un giorno meno, non vi fa niente: l'importante è sbarcare in America".
L'importante era davvero sbarcare in America: come e quando non aveva poi importanza. Se ai loro parenti arrivavano le lettere, con quegli indirizzi confusi e sgorbi che riuscivano a tracciare sulle buste, sarebbero arrivati anche loro, «chi ha lingua passa il mare», giustamente diceva il proverbio. E avrebbero passato il mare, quel grande mare oscuro, e sarebbero approdati agli stori e alle farme dell'America, all'affetto dei loro fratelli zii nipoti cugini, alle calde ricche abbondanti case, alle automobili grandi come case.
Duecentocinquantamila lire: metà alla partenza, metà all'arrivo. Le tenevano, a modo di scapolari, tra la pelle e la camicia. Avevano venduto tutto quello che avevano da vendere, per racimolarle: la casa terragna il mulo l'asino le provviste dell'annata il canterano le coltri. I più furbi avevano fatto ricorso agli usurai, con la segreta intenzione di fregarli; una volta almeno, dopo anni che ne subivano angaria: e ne avevano soddisfazione, al pensiero della faccia che avrebbero fatta nell'apprendere la notizia. «Vieni a cercarmi in America, sanguisuga: magari ti ridò i tuoi soldi, ma senza interesse, se ti riesce di trovarmi.» Il sogno dell'America traboccava di dollari: non più, il denaro, custodito nel logoro portafogli o nascosto tra la camicia e la pelle, ma cacciato con noncuranza nelle tasche dei pantaloni, tirato fuori a manciate: come avevano visto fare ai loro parenti, che erano partiti morti di fame, magri e cotti dal sole; e dopo venti o trent'anni tornavano, ma per una breve vacanza, con la faccia piena e rosea che faceva bel contrasto coi capelli candidi. “
Leonardo Sciascia, Il lungo viaggio, racconto contenuto in:
Id., Il mare colore del vino, Einaudi (collana Nuovi Coralli, n° 82), 1980⁵; pp. 19-20.
Nota: La terza raccolta di scritti brevi dello scrittore siciliano comparve dapprima nel 1966 col titolo Racconti siciliani, pubblicata in appena 150 copie, impreziosite da una acquaforte di Emilio Greco, dall’ “Istituto statale d'arte per la decorazione e la illustrazione del libro” di Urbino. Nel 1973 Einaudi ripropose l’opera ampliata e commentata da una nota dell’autore, il quale la considerò quasi un sommario della propria attività letteraria.
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- Spaghetti Pasta, 3/4 lb
- Sardines, 1 can (4 small filets) - more if desired
- Anchovies, 4 filets
- Extra Virgin Olive Oil 3 tablespoons
- Red Pepper Flakes, 1 teaspoon
- Bread Crumbs (Gluten Free), 3 large pinches, plus more for garnish
- Garlic, 2 cloves
- Dry White Wine, 1/4 cup
- Lemon Juice, 1/2 lemon
- Lemon Zest, 1/2 lemon or to your liking
- Currents (Raisons are fine), 1/3 cup
- Pine Nuts, 1/3 cup
- Parmesan Cheese (optional)
Make it:
Bring salted water to a boil and cook pasta for about 6-7 minutes, just until the pasta is nearly al dente.
In a separate heavy fry pan add the olive oil and garlic. simmer the garlic on low -medium heat until the garlic is fragrant and slightly golden. Add the anchovies and red pepper flakes and continue to cook on low-medium heat until the anchovies melt into the oil.
Turn up the heat on the pan, add the white wine (or Rose) ] and bring to a simmer to reduce the liquid until the pan is nearly dry. Then stir in the pine nuts and currents/raisons, reduce the heat back to low. Add in the filets of sardines. Don’t stir too much while the sardines are cooking, they will break apart to early. Cook for 1 minute or so.
Transfer the pasta to the pan and gently toss the pasta to coat. At this point help the sardines break apart a bit. Squeeze in the lemon juice and add the breadcrumbs. Add a little bit of pasta water if the pasta is too dry.
Give it one last toss and transfer pasta to individual bowls. Garnish with a little more breadcrumbs, a little parmesan cheese and lemon zest. Serve.
One by one, with many in tears, the women described how Epstein manipulated, coerced, threatened, and sexually abused them when they were just teens.
Denied their chance at true justice upon his death, some of these women at least got that day in court on Tuesday. In formally closing the case against Epstein, Judge Richard M. Berman took the unusual step of inviting the women to speak, thinking it important they should at least be given the opportunity to tell their stories.
And so one by one, with many in tears, the women stood before the judge and described how Epstein manipulated, coerced, threatened, and sexually abused them when they were just teen girls in the early 2000s. Many of them said Epstein paid them to give him nude "massages," then violently raped them.
Some of the women used their names. Many didn't, instead going by "Jane Doe." A number of them had their lawyers read statements they'd written.
Here are some of their most powerful words.
Courtney Wild
"Jeffrey Epstein robbed myself and all the other victims of our day in court to confront him one by one, and for that he is a coward."
Jane Doe #1
"I still feel like I am learning the ways that he's impacted me.
"Even though Jeffrey Epstein brought it to a grand scale, on some level, a lot of girls could relate to the trauma we are talking about."
Jane Doe #2
"I think each of us has a different story and different circumstances for why we stayed in it, but for me, I think he was really strategic in how he approached each of us. Things happened slowly over time. It was almost like that analogy of a frog being in a pan of water and slowly turning the flame up.
"A lot of us were in very vulnerable situations and in extreme poverty, circumstances where we didn't have anyone on our side."
