by Silvia R. Fernandez Caria
Maria had always known she was abandoned and it was no secret considering her surname: Esposito, like all the other abandoned children in the wheel of the convent of the church Annunziata in Naples. Everyone just called her Maria.
Maria had always known she was abandoned and it was no secret considering her surname: Esposito, like all the other abandoned children in the wheel of the convent of the church Annunziata in Naples. Everyone just called her Maria.
She was left on a beautiful,
windless night. Sister Clementina was on call in the parlor to receive the
children that were being abandoned at the wheel there. The nun had told her
that the little bell had rung that night breaking the silence and awaking her
and even the moon. The nun liked to tell her the story, especially when she was
ill in bed.
As she grew up, Maria had learnt
what the wheel was, she had seen it working many times and every time its bell
rung, day or night, she was overcome with curiosity.
The system was simple, designed to
allow mothers of undesired children to leave them at the care of the convent
nuns whilst maintaining anonymity. This artifact was installed in a room,
within one of the thick walls that separated the convent from the exterior world.
When someone placed a baby on the plate of the turning wheel and rang the
little bell, one of the operators from inside rotated the device and the baby
entered the small parlor without any eye contact between the donor and the
receiver. Then, whoever was inside would turn the wheel to re-establish the
opening with the outside, the wheel ready to receive other babies. It was a way
to provide a safe home and care for infants who most probably would have
otherwise ended up dead.
Sister Clementina also told her
that when she was found she was wrapped in a white cotton bed sheet, to protect
her against the cold and that she was really quiet, her big eyes looking around
with curiosity. She told her that when they undressed her, they found an amber
and silver pendant, the one she carried now, tied to her neck with a simple
cotton string. Maria knew that this was a very special sign that would connect
her with her Mother or someone from her family.
Some children didn’t have with them
anything that would allow them to be recognized by their birth mothers, in that
case, the nuns would cut some specials medals in half, giving half to the child
and the other half to the mother waiting at the other side of the wheel. It was
an ingenious method that still respected the anonymity of the Mother, but could
prove a link with their infant in case of future repentance.
Sister Clementina told her again
and again that when she was first taken to the wet-nurse for feeding she was
not hungry. You could tell this baby had just eaten, a sign that someone who
loved her had to give her up. Sometimes, Maria was assigned to work with the
new arrivals and watching the wet-nurses breastfeed the babies, she would
wonder about her mother, the one who breastfed her before abandoning her.
The nun always told all the
children “don’t separate yourself from the sign you carry because one day it
might allow you to find your families.” Maria always wore her amber pendant
hidden underneath her shirt because she feared that the others, seeing its beauty,
would take it away from her, and then her mother would not be able to identify
her.
She often asked Sister Clementina,
“Do you think I’ll find my mother someday?”
“Don’t lose hope, my child, for the
Lord’s paths are infinite,” was always the answer.
When the nun died, Maria was only
twelve and cried inconsolably for two days; she wanted to die too. Whenever she
thought about her, she would get a knot in her throat. Sister Clementina was
the closest thing to a mother she had ever had. She missed her a lot, who else
could now relate to her the stories about her past?
The faraway possibility of finding
her mother became more difficult when at fourteen she was taken from the
convent. Lady Benedetta Olivieri, one of the benefactors of the orphanage -who
was marrying Count Renzi- came to look for servants for her new palace in
Florence choosing Maria amongst other girls to travel North from Naples. She
knew it was 1768, a very important year, because it coincided with King
Ferdinand’s wedding. All of Naples was preparing for the celebration. Resigned
to her destiny, Maria left before the King’s wedding and arrived at a wonderful
palace on top of one of the hills that surround Florence.
Maria slept every night in a corner
of the enormous kitchen in the Countess’ house. Every morning she was the first
one to wake up in the darkness that precedes dawn, when the nearby church bells
rang for the monks to awake for their first prayers. She prepared the
fire in the big chimneys in the kitchen and kept them burning all day long so
the cookers could do their hard job. After all, she lived in Countess
Renzi’s palace and she didn’t complain about that. The work in the kitchen was
heavy but she was never cold or lacking of food like other servants she knew,
and she considered herself very lucky. Sometimes she would go out into the yard
to collect extra firewood and she could see down by the river, the bell towers
of Florence covered in fog.
She always wore the pendant and
only took it off a few times per year when they forced her to change the simple
shirt she used as underwear. Working all day long at the fireplace made both
her clothes and her skin dark with ashes and fumes. In those occasions, fearing
they would steal it, Maria used to hide her precious jewel in a secret place; a
hole between two stones in the internal part of one of the chimneys, a place
she had discovered during the Easter cleaning.
Sometimes Maria remembered Sister
Clementina and her stories and wondered where the other pendant was, the
companion to her sign of recognition, the one her Mother kept with her. She
imagined her Mother like her, wearing the jewel on her chest, walking towards
the marketplace on the sunny streets of Naples that she missed so much.
At night, before sleeping, when she
curled up on the hay against the dog’s body heat, when nobody could see her,
the child-woman stroked her pendant.
A ring of amber and a ring of
silver linked together.
She could trace every black design
within the yellow circle of amber, even with her eyes closed. ‘Amber, what a
strange word,’ she thought. Maria repeated this word like a litany, only few
minutes until exhaustion carried her to the land of dreams.
Tomorrow awaited another day.
Francesca was looking at the photos
in her new cell phone: last summer’s vacations at Grandma’s house, the stables
and Leon, the horse she was given for her 15th birthday. She had photos of the
vines, the cats. The bus ran through the green undulating scenery which took
them from the coast of Rimini to the hills inland but the landscape images slid
unnoticed by Francesca’s eyes as she was absorbed in her own thoughts.
She was sad for the death of her
Grandma Nene’. She was so distracted that she didn’t even hear the
conversations of her school classmates sitting in groups around her. They left
Naples two days ago for this school trip and the memory of her Grandma’s recent
passing accompanied her throughout the trip. The teenager was convinced that,
out of all the grandchildren, she was the one who missed her the most. The big
house was empty without her and she didn’t want to go back to it. She went only
to ride Leon and train for competitions but she never entered the house. Each
time she remembered Nene’, the teenager caressed the pendant she carried on her
neck. It was so simple, but so important for her.
A ring of amber and a ring of
silver linked together.
She could trace every black design
within the yellow circle of amber, even with her eyes closed. ‘Amber, what a
strange word,’ she thought.
Francesca remembered when her
Grandma Nene’ gave it to her a few months before passing away, when she was
still conscious.
Little by little, she distributed
her most important belongings to her grandchildren. One day she turned serious
and holding something in her closed hand, said to Francesca, “This does not
have any great economic value, but its very important because it has been in
our family for generations, being passed on from grandmother to granddaughter.
My Grandma Giulia received it from her Grandma, I received it from her. You’ll
have to give it to your granddaughter. Promise?” she opened her gnarled hand to
reveal the strange pendant tied to a string of black silk.
“Of course, Grandma.” Francesca
felt special, she was chosen out of the five granddaughters, and with a big hug
they sealed the deal. Francesca wore the pendant in her neck and asked with a
daring tone, “What if I don’t have any granddaughters?”
“Doesn’t matter, you will give it
to a daughter or a daughter-in-law,” was Nene’s answer, and laughing, continued
“but always from woman to woman!”
Still with their hands interlaced,
they kept looking into each other’s eyes, lost in their own thoughts.
For the first time in her life,
Francesca was conscious of the fact that one day she would have children, that
this tradition would continue thanks to her, another link in the chain of time,
in the chain of the women of her family.
After a series of ascents and
reversed curves, the bus stopped beside a large stone arch, the entrance door
of this small town founded a thousand years ago. Everyone got off, joking
around, happy to have arrived. Francesca put her feelings aside and descended
from the bus, joining the noisy group that walked towards the small piazza.
Someone was playing violin. It was the only sound in the sleepy village.
They had a guided tour organized by
the “Museo Renzi”. The guide was waiting for them in the cold hall. It was
difficult to keep silent, the group was too rowdy and the voices echoed on the stonewalls.
Francesca was passionate about
science and in the first room she stopped to see the fossils. She observed some
pieces of amber, like the material of her pendant, but bigger. She found them
beautiful, magical. In the second room there were many objects dated in the
Bronze era and also from the Iron age. Everyone was surprised because the
museum had a lot of interesting pieces and was so big for such a small town.
The group roamed around, pointing at the antique objects that they found so
funny within their lit display cabinets. In one of them, Francesca saw
something that attracted her, but she couldn’t see very well in between her
friends’ heads.
She drew nearer and what she saw
made her legs tremble. Displayed inside the cabinet was a pendant identical to
the one she was carrying on her neck! How could this be? Francesca stroked her
own, to reassure herself that it was still there, to be sure that this was not
hers. The sign said, ‘A woman’s pendant made out of amber and silver - Found at
Renzi Palace (Florence) during restoration works in the kitchen (1898)’
The more she observed it, the more
she was convinced: the jewels were exactly the same! A ring of amber and a ring
of silver linked together.
Her Grandma Nene’ had told her the
story of her pendant: always in the neapolitan family, from Grandma to
granddaughter. Who knows for how many generations? But what about this one in
the display? Surely it was its companion. Francesca wondered how this other
one, exactly like hers, could be in a museum, in this museum.
‘Renzi Palace? Florence? But my
family comes from Naples! How did it get to Florence?’ Francesca couldn’t
answer all her questions with the brief information on the sign. ‘When were
they separated? Who separated them? Why are they not together? Did someone lose
it?’ She knew that her Grandma didn't know about this other pendant, she would
have told her.
By a chance of destiny the two
beautiful pendants were now reunited, but Francesca would never know the story
that had brought them apart.
Touching the small bronze knob, she
checked if the crystal door of the cabinet was open, but no, it was closed.
No
one would believe this, even she could hardly believe it!
‘If only I could tell my Grandma Nene!,’ thought Francesca while
caressing her necklace with her left hand. Smiling, she approached the museum
guide to share her incredible discovery.
1 comments:
Natalia Contreras said...
congrats Silvia beautiful tale, thank you very much for sharing X Natalia C.