The Siuto family, they were one of the many large families that resided in Mazara del Baldo in Italy, among them, the story of a young boy called Alberto Santos Siuto stands out, who is nowadays my emotional grandfather, who also has granted me the power and honor to write his history, narrated by himself during an interview. I hope i can translate every feeling and each one of the experiences that this dear person has had to live during this atrocious part of his childhood, to be able to live and become what he is today, a witness who survived the second world war and a italian grandfather with permanent residency in my heart, my family and Venezuela.

In honor to the Siuto family

Trilogy (Extended version)

_{The photograph was taken by me with a huawei p8 and the editing of it was done through the tool covers of wattpad}

Under the shadows of a war

 

Would this be the end for me? Without even having lived a quarter of my lifetime, things like that and worse were flooding my thoughts. My memories disturb my being at the thought of what my eyes were seeing and my ears hearing, heartbreaking cries and pleas for help: I fixed my sight on my hands on an attempt to help and i only see tears fall from my face. My heart saddens and grieves at the sight of faces with closed eyes and bloodied skin of those who i once played with and greeted by the mornings, no longer breathing or smiling, their lives were trapped and dissipated under the debris, but, this should be just a dream.

I woke up thinking that everything was just a dream but it wasn't like that, it wouldn't have any sense that my clothing was in such a shabby state, my ears still didn't recover from the buzz caused by the bomb detonations and my body was already assimilating the pain in my wounds. I was saved and my father told me everything that happened, all my family members except for me were sheltered in the caves of the mountains located a few kilometers from my home, but after seeing that i didn’t come back home during a whole day of desperation, my father went out in search for me, he visited every hospital even morgues in the fateful case of dying, but for his relief some strangers found me with vital signs and took me to a hospital nearby, that's where he found me.

The truth is that i felt a great relief of seeing that my entire family was alive, but at the same time there was no specific age needed to feel the sorrow for those that would have to grief their fallen ones, the most cruel way in which their lives were taken. Everything happened so suddenly, nobody was prepared for so brutal and inhumane attack influenced by the empowered people. Our new home was located in the caves of the big mountains of the vale Marzana del Baldo, most part of the edifications were now ruins, the whole country had fallen into poverty, and the best thing we could do was preventively take shelter every time the horns in the street sounded to warn us that the war wasn't over yet and that more airplanes were coming to annihilate our lives.

There was an scene among many of those that marked my life, going out to pick up some food with my family, the speaker that warned the citadel started to sound, we got frightened, because we were several kilometers away from the caves that were our shelter, we never thought that at so late time of the night we would be attacked again, they followed no pattern that would serve as a preventive way to avoid the big, thunderous, and vile bombing waves, i saw an old man dying at a not so far distance when a bomb fell near to him and his family, miraculously i saved myself behind a big electricity pole, still when i remember that can't believe it.

I was mentally reviewing the faces of all the people that got their lives extinguished until their last breath and i didn't want to be one of them, so we ran as much as we could without allowing ourselves to feel tired and leaving a big amount of food in the middle of the street, nothing was more important than living one more night.

The life we had inside the caves wasn't easy, we were afraid of being entombed by the impact of some bomb, but every time there was a bombing the caves was shaking constantly and pieces of rock fell around the place, also, the desperate people lighted candles and prayed to everything they believed in; many times during the silence and the lack of reality we got suffocated by the smoke and everything turned uncomfortable.

My Mother and the other people prepared beds with thatch to be able to sleep and take some rest, because there were many occasions in which the attacks went on for hours an even during night time, for no reason we would be able to come back home during those massive strikes. Despite all those hardships, of the many faces of hurt, wounded and dead people in my thought, i felt relief due to the blessing of having my family with me, but that wouldn't last long.

 

It looked like this offensive would last forever and that behind it, it would take many innocent lives, the life inside the caves was becoming a routine, and despite it has been only weeks it seemed like an eternity to me. My city had gone through a big war that left many civilian casualties, many structures were left completely damaged; there were still many rescue operations to help or find people that were covered or locked under the debris, surprisingly my home was still intact after the war, but that wasn't the biggest burden we would have to carry. Many friends had died and many others were in a critical state. Our whole Italy had gone through one of its worst economical moments, the public services were in shortage, mainly the food distribution; which could be understood after that brutal strike in search of power.

There was a day in which the cemeteries where full of people, it felt like if we were all saying goodbye to our closed ones and neighbors, there was a absolute silence from my side, i didn't know what to say, my tears without weeping expressed all i had to say, like the bitter crying of the women and men for the premature loss of their children. The mourning lasted some days; the war had stopped in my city but the fight for survival just started. The riots and looting on the streets were just matter of time due to the abundant poverty and the desperation caused by it, we tried to remain together, but the despair and sadness took over many people that lost their jobs, home, and because of that, their families sustenance.

Our situation couldn't remain like this, in my family's case we were 6 persons, my parents and 4 brothers. I saw how my father and brothers went out to the street in search for a job and food, but many times some of them came back empty-handed, the little they found was split in even parts by my mom and then shared by all of us, and from the three basic meals required per day, we got just two, and sometimes just one. We stayed like that for quite some time, i was only able to stay home, the schools were closed, specially mine because it was completely destroyed and besides that, walking those streets would make me relive those scenes that marked my life completely.

Several days after that, a familiar got in contact with us, he said that he was able to help get one of us out of the country, and there was the biggest burden for me. My family decided it was me who should get the ticket to travel on a ship, the cost was really high, i would have them come with me, the truth is that was unwilling to let them behind, to be far away after everything that happened as we stayed together. I remember i just cried and screamed my mother's name while leaning on the railing of that huge ship while my whole family was saying goodbye waving their hands on the air. The trip lasted several days, my can't remember now how many days, all i knew is that on the other side of the continent, i had an uncle waiting for me, and i only knew his name.

We received me with all his love, we traveled crossing many countries until reach my new home, Venezuela. I followed my father's path with the hope that someday he would be able to see that i followed his steps and be proud of me. I became a talented blacksmith; i made some cages that at those times were exotic. I received a presidential invitation and the recognition of my work as a blacksmith from an important person of our country. I made my own blacksmithing company in Venezuela, i made cages, bed structures, metal furniture, among other stuff. After many years later i got the chance to travel back to Italy, to my city. It was sad for me to find out that my father had died; i remember i made a small cage for him hoping he would see it, so i visited him and left that memory at his grave's side. The life of my town didn't change much, i could still feel the sorrow of the people in the ambient, the chaos and hunger was still there. In some way i started missing the country that received me, Venezuela. The people were warm and affective, so i just came back without being able to bring my people with me, whom were rooted to our native country. My brothers and sisters made their families with the time and left the country by themselves. My mother died to cancer with the years.

So many years passed by and from my family, i was the only one left, with my wife, a beautiful daughter and my grandson, i might have nephews in some place, but i don't have the joy to know them, i don't know anything of their whereabouts. Nowadays all those memories are still fresh in my head, every time i hear an airplane pass by my hands start shaking just from the memories that are brought back by that sound and all i caused, as it brought me to were i am now.

Mother, father and brothers, i live with the memories that keep us together for those times, thanks for the sacrifice you did for me, thanks for giving me life. After the war we were a big shadow for our union, nowadays my family and i, we are the shadow of a new war, but that’s another story.