Visits home : migration experiences between Italy and Australia 0522849652, 9780522849653

Citation preview

Iicont

3 2106 01668 1634

visits home migration experiences between

aH

Italy

and Australia

loretta

haldaccar

Visits Home

Univ. Library, UC Santa Cruz 2003

Melbourne University Press PO Box 278, Carlton South, Victoria 3053, Australia

[email protected] www.mup.com.au

First published 2001 Text © Loretta Baldassar 2001 Design and typography © Melbourne University Press 2001 This book is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 and subsequent amendments, no part may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any

means or process whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Typeset in 11 point Berkeley by Melbourne University Press Printed in Australia by Brown Prior Anderson

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry Baldassar, Loretta, 1965—- .

Visits home: migration experiences between Italy and Australia. Bibliography.

Includes index.

ISBN 0 522 84965 2. 1. Italian Australians—Biography. 2. Italians— Australia—Biography. 3. Immigrants—Australia— Biography. I. Title. 305.851094

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Contents

Acknowledgements Introduction: The Road Home

1 2 3 4

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation The Many Italies The Social Construction of Campanilismo

5 6 7

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration Campanilismo in the Host Country The Rhetoric of Return

8

Second Generation Visitors

9 10

Rivalry and Repatriation The Home Town Revisited

ix

20 44 74 110 150 185 209 249 292 322

Appendices Glossary

341

Notes

362

Bibliography

377

Index

390

357

Illustrations

All unattributed photographs were taken by the author.

Plates A Perth family house named San Fior Modern San Fior style for a house in Perth Koalas, kangaroos and wildflowers at Grazia’s home A San Fior church painting hangs in a Perth house Young people in Perth identifying as Italian Photograph by David Symons

The central frazione of Tarzo Local postcard

A statue in Tarzo representing homecoming Medallions commemorating the Festa dell’Emigrante Australians visit an Italian monument to the

emigrated

Courtesy Alma Maree Cabassi A monument in Tirano A memorial in Innisfail, Queensland Local postcard

following 84

viii

Illustrations

A monument in Cue, Western Australia Courtesy Frank Merizzi

following 180

San Fiorese members of the Laguna Bocce Club, Perth The church in San Fior di Sopra The church in Castello Roganzuolo Scrap-metal piles on a road in San Fior di Sopra Photograph by Angelo Bianchet

A traditional farmhouse Preparing a grave for All Souls’ Day

The Pan e Vin and Befana Classe members with the Madonna of the Rosary

‘Valtellina night’ at the Laguna Social Club Laguna Social Club after recent renovation

Maps The Regions of Italy

15

The Veneto Region, Italy

16

Metropolitan Perth, Australia

163

Acknowledgements

I cannot adequately express my gratitude to the people whose stories fill the pages of this book. Researching these migration histories was both an honour and a pleasure. The people | interviewed generously and enthusiastically shared their memories and hopes with me. I may disappoint some of them because I have not used real names, nor have I written a popular history. 1 hope, however, that I have captured something of the shared meanings that illuminate the migration experience and, in particular, the continued attachment to homeland. The people who helped me begin the intellectual journey include Basil Sansom, Patricia Baines and Barrie Machin. Those who assisted

and participated in my adventures in ‘the field’ include Don Canuto

Toso and the Fiorot, Brescacin, Tonon and Zambon families, who led

me to and into San Fior and into the homes of San Fiorese migrants in

Australia. Chiara Pasti, Paola Filippucci, Antonio Marazzi, Lisa Pollard

and Caroline Wraith provided welcome academic support and camaraderie. A special acknowledgement is in order for Paola Pradal, Flaviano Pradella and the Favero and Bottega families, who along with their friends, neighbours and relatives provided me with unfailing hospitality, help and friendship while I was in Italy. I would also like to thank Caterina Grotto, Nicoletta Sbrojavaccha, Danilo Gardin and Mario Marcon for their encouragement and support, as well as the staff and students at the Oxford School of English, Vittorio Veneto, during the years I taught there.

x

Acknowledgements

The many people who assisted me in finding important reference

material include Dante Pinotti, Lazzaro and Myriam Bonazzi and Frank Barbaro and local historians Antonio Favaro, Teofilo Gobato and

Luciano Caniato, as well as staff at the Ethnographic Museum in Tirano,

the Johnstone Shire Council, Innisfail, the Trevisani Nel Mondo Asso-

ciations in Perth and Treviso, and the Benetton Foundation library in Treviso. A trip to Sicily in 1999 provided me with valuable comparative data thanks to the generous help and hospitality of the Bivona, Ceravolo, Cicirello, Faranda, Mordini and Occhiuto families.

Those who helped me develop and expand my ideas into this book and who have been an enormous source of support, guidance and encouragement include Cora Baldock, Antonina Bivona, Richard Bosworth, Cheryl Lange, Ros Pesman, Zlatko Skrbis, the late Jackie

Templeton and, in particular, Michael Pinches. Many others provided inspiration through debates, discussions, written comments and friendly conversations, including Roberta Bencini, Gillian Bottomley, Victoria Burbank, Antonina Buttitta, Marinella Caruso, Patrizia Dogliani, William Douglass, Emilio Franzina, the late Joseph Gentilli, Frances Giampapa, Gerald Gold, John Gordon, Susanna luliano, Laksiri Jayasuriya, John Kinder, Renata Kokanovic, Angelo and Donaello Loi, Julie Manville, Craig McFarlane, Dorothy Parker, Robert Pascoe, Nonja Peters, Val ColicPeisker, Lorenzo Polizotto and Nira Yuval Davis.

I benefited greatly from invitations to present my work in seminars and courses including those organised by Jan Gothard and Malissa Helms at Murdoch University, Marion Allbrook and Annalisa Orselli Dickson at Edith Cowan University, Catherine Kovesi at the University of Notre Dame, Jody Fitzharding at Curtin University, Glenda Sluga at the University of Sydney, Rosita Henry at James Cook University and Stuart Woolf at the University of Ca’Foscheri in Venice. Thanks also to my colleagues and students in the Migration Research Network and in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Western Australia, who continue to provide me with a stimulating and supportive working environment. In preparing this work for publication I have tried to write in a style that is accessible to the people whose lives I write about, as well as being of use to students of ethnography and migration studies. For assistance in this aim, I wish to thank Sally Nicholls, Jean Dunn and

Raelene Wilding for their editorial comments and encouragement. Thanks also to Rick Armstrong for assistance with the maps, genealogies and migration charts, Jane Mulcock, Mandy Wilson and Marianne Tylor, as well as staff at Melbourne University Press, for editorial and administrative support. A special note of thanks is in order for Antonina Bivona and Ian Bytheway, who helped me with the proofreading.

Acknowledgements

xi

This book would not have been attempted, let alone completed, if it were not for my husband, Brendan Jansen, and mother, Elizabeth Baldassar, who made sure | had the space, energy and confidence to undertake it. To them I am especially grateful and most indebted. Special thanks to my zia Zita and nonna for their support, and to Andrea and Cathy for sharing my enthusiasm for the subject. Thank you to Tanya Mountford, Dario and Nicola Baldassar, Maureen, Jennifer

and Peter Jansen, Leah Burns, Joanne Servaas and Sally Ashbrook for

their interest and support (and babysitting). Finally, 1 would like to add a special thanks to my son, Xavier, whose birth a week after the first draft was completed has kept this publication and its time-lines in a healthy perspective. Loretta Baldassar

peri miei

Introduction: The Road Home

After a few days of touring around northern Italy, | finally set out for my nonna’s place. I distinctly remember that I could not find her small village, Tarzo, on any of my maps. I had to stop and ask directions many times. It is difficult to describe the sense of amazement and excitement I felt when I drove into a service station in Treviso (about 50 kilometres north of Venice) and heard people speaking my father’s dialect, an idiom I had only ever heard in my home in Perth or at the Laguna Veneto Club, which my father had helped found. I took a photograph of a shop sign sporting my surname (we are the only Baldassars in the phone book in Western Australia). This place was not familiar, and yet it was. Finally, I entered the country road that led to my nonna’s. To a West

Australian urbanite used to wide, flat, straight roads, this narrow street,

hedged in by snow-capped mountains, was extraordinary. I remember feeling like I was travelling back in time, into my past. It was the most beautiful scene I'd ever been in. And it felt very much like that—like being in a painting or a photograph. Perhaps because that’s how I'd grown to know this place, through pictures and stories. As soon as I saw it, I recognised my uncle’s house. This recognition

was built on a composite of faint memories of my previous visit as a

ten year old, the photos from that visit and the much sharper collective memories that I shared with my family. My nonna, my father’s siblings and my cousins were waiting to greet me. The older family members, especially Nonna, had tear-filled eyes of welcome that spoke of the

2

Visits Home

pain of distant farewells. They commented on how much I looked like my father and I sensed they were greeting him through me. It had been eleven years since they’d seen him on that first trip ‘back’ with my mother, my siblings and me. That most significant of all visits home had occurred for my father some twenty years after his initial migration to Perth. He hadn't been able to recognise his sister. She had been only nine when he had left. Despite the many photos that had journeyed across the oceans, it was something of a shock for him to actually meet this fully grown woman, mother of three, almost a total stranger and yet also a sister. This time it was her turn to be shocked; her ten-year-old niece was now a young adult. She kept a tight hold of my hand as if to impress upon me that the distance didn’t matter to the family bond between us. I felt completely overwhelmed and was perpetually near tears myself. Everyone was familiar and not familiar at the same time. I was unsure of my place, of what was expected of me. I did not know what to do,

how to act. I could not understand the quick banter of their jokes. I experienced an acute sense of dislocation. I felt lost. Spaesato, they say in Italian (literally, out of my town). At some point I had a sudden

need to escape. I announced, in my awkward standard Italian, that I

was going to walk down the road to the old house. I had lost the fluency with the dialect that I had developed during my childhood visit (although I suspect that fluency had only really developed in people’s memories). The old house was where I had stayed on my family’s first visit. It was where my father was born. When I got to the top of the road that led to the old house, I could not hold back the tears any more. I sobbed my way down the road to the courtyard of the house. Through her kitchen window, my great aunt saw me approaching. She had been awaiting my visit and rushed out to meet me. She was also crying. She called out to her neighbours who shared the courtyard, ‘This must be Loretta, Angelos daughter, she’s returned’. Several people came to greet and embrace me. Quite unexpectedly I felt I had arrived. I was home. —_—

—

It is difficult to explain the outpouring of emotion that characterised my ‘return’. It certainly had nothing to do with reason, yet it wasn’t irrational. Perhaps this is what Walker Connor means by the ‘nonrational core of nationalism’—it’s a feeling of belonging, beyond reason.! The anthropological notions of pilgrimage and communitas— the communal sense of belonging which characterises the liminal stage in rites of passage—are other concepts which help to make sense of the return visit.* But anthropology and sociology are none too adept at

Introduction: The Road Home

3

dealing with emotional events,? and it is liberating to be able to write

about this experience—probably the single most important event in my fieldwork, yet one that does not readily find its way into my academic publications. In my case, it was the feeling of belonging to a family and to a place I was unfamiliar with. The people I met experienced me in a similar way, I was one of them but also unfamiliar. Our meeting exposed the fractious family histories generated by migration. It gave vent to both the pain of loss and the joy of reunion. In that homecoming, I knew I was more than just me. I was my father’s daughter, my grandmother’ grandchild and my aunt's niece. But I was also a migrant come home: in that capacity I was everyone's daughter, granddaughter and niece—everyone who had a migrant family member that is, and, in my father’s village, everyone did. So began my fieldwork in Italy about a decade ago. My interest in Italy had developed well before then, growing up in an Italo-Australian family in Perth. The tensions and inter-generational conflicts I experienced as an adolescent (which later I was able to appreciate as the development of ‘double cultural competences’ and ‘hybrid spaces’,* but at the time manifested mostly as a lot of anger and frustration) led me to anthropology and to research on second generation ItaloAustralians. I discovered other young people, some like me, who were fighting with their families about being Australian, and many others who were, unlike me, much more comfortable expressing their italianita consciously and conscientiously.> 1 was particularly struck by their common desire to ‘go back’ to Italy. Of course, many of them had never been there, but ‘back home’ they wanted to go.

‘Going Back’ When Clara complained of suffering severe nostalgia (homesickness), her townsman Mario knew exactly the remedy. ‘It’s time for you to go back for a visit’, he told her, ‘time for you to hear the bells of your

home town again’.

‘Going back’ (home) is a secular pilgrimage of enormous importance for migrants, particularly for the first generation, for whom the return is to their place of birth.© The journey ‘back’ can also be a significant rite of passage for the so-called second generation. There is some debate as to what constitutes the second generation. The first generation, in standard usage in migration studies, refers to the migrants.’ The second generation is generally defined as those born to the first generation in the host country, and it also usually includes individuals who migrated as young children. Sociologist Ellie Vasta suggests that there are three

4

Visits Home

main ways of defining this category. The first is statistical—referring to Australian-born children of overseas-born parents. The second is social—which extends the first definition to include those overseasborn who arrived in Australia during infancy or early childhood. Ian

Burnley further refines this social definition. He argues that children who arrived in Australia under age 12, ‘having been socialised and largely educated in Australia should be regarded as one category of second generation persons (2a’s)’ and thus differentiated from ‘the second category of second generation persons (2b’s)—Australian-born with foreign parents’.® Vasta’s third definition is subjective—dependent on whether people consider themselves to be Italian, Australian or Italo-Australian. This final definition incorporates the possibility of

‘multiple identities’.?

Even if they never actually manage to ‘go back’, the lives of the migrants and their children are steeped in the myth of return.!° By myth I don’t mean falsehood, that the journey never takes place. Rather, I'm referring to myth in the anthropological sense—as a key metaphor which orients the lives and desires of those who foster it, whether ‘going back’ occurs frequently or rarely ever. It is commonly understood by the individuals | interviewed that the best medicine for homesickness—which translates into the Italian as nostalgia, a word derived from the Greek nostos, to return home—is a visit home. Like the two hundred or so migrants that comprise their cluster migration network, both Clara and Mario, along with my father,

have been living in Perth since the 1950s and hence for most of their lives. They are Australian citizens, their children were born here and to their grandchildren they are known as Nonna and Nonno. These migrants and their descendants are classified by migration officials and researchers as ‘settled’—well-settled even—given their status as ‘longterm migrants’. And yet, despite their firm and generally successful establishment in this country, the agony of distance, the painful longing for home—like unresolved grief—never totally leaves them and is apt to flare up with the same intensity as they experienced on the day of their arrival. Many people bemoaned this pain of homesickness that manifested itself (as described in one migrants poem) as ‘a bitter Calvary of waiting [to return]’. For most of the people I spoke to, these episodes of grieving do not seem to become less frequent with time. It is this nostalgia that fuels the ever-increasing incidence of visits ‘home’ made by these long-term, settled and successful Australians. This book is about understanding the phenomenon of the visit home and the part it plays in the migration process. The experience of ‘going back’ has generally been ignored in the migration literature and, due to the way migration has been defined, visits home have tended to be

Introduction: The Road Home

5

invisible. Migration has commonly been theorised as a process that ends with settlement, and thus return visits, which continue to occur

well after ‘settlement’, have not been conceptualised as part of the migration experience. In addition, the focus of migration studies has usually been either immigrants in the home town and the reasons for migration and repatriation, or immigrants in the host countries where issues of alienation and assimilation predominate.!! It is only recently that migration has begun to be understood as a set of processes that link the home and host countries and, in particular, the sending and

receiving communities. !?

That immigration officials as well as researchers have been blinded by their limited definition of migration is perhaps best revealed by the inadequate recording of migration statistics. The historical focus of Australia’s immigration policy on a ‘migration of settlement’!>—where accepted migrants were expected to come and stay permanently— meant that any form of return was viewed negatively by Australian governments.'* Indeed, return visits were for a long time completely overlooked. Charles Price, an Australian demographer, notes that return visits went unidentified by immigration officials and, along with remigrations of individuals, were counted as separate migrations: ‘None

of the official statistics enable one to discover the precise number of persons entering or leaving Australia; they simply record the total number of entries and exits, irrespective of whether the persons concerned are making their first or fifth entry or exit’.!> American anthropologist Micaela di Leonardo has shown the same is true for the US: ‘The majority of emigrants, for the entire period of heavy emigration, left intending to return. The evidence suggests that large numbers were counted as new emigrants and immigrants, by the Italian and American governments, as they left a second, third, or more times in

their periodic returns and remigrations’.!©

The relative affordability and safety of air travel combined with the

family life stage of Italian migrants (most being retired) has meant that

the incidence, and therefore visibility, of their visits ‘home’ has increased significantly in recent years. I have no doubt that visits home are a universal phenomenon—that most migrants, wherever they are, experience a yearning for the place from which they came. Indeed, the inability to go back, even for a visit, is a key characteristic that distinguishes the refugee from the voluntary migrant. The experiences of ‘going back’ for a group of Italians who migrated to Perth from the same village, San Fior, in northern Italy, became the

focus of my study. However, I found that the visit experiences of Italian migrants from other parts of Italy needed to be acknowledged as well. Italians were the perfect group for me to study in order to understand

6

Visits Home

the importance of the visit home, because their presence in Australia since the beginning of the last century means their visit histories span

several decades.

The Search for Home As soon as I touch down at the airport in Venice and hear the church bells chiming in the distance I

start to cry, I’m back home

... but

then, even as I get down off the plane I’m already missing my other home. (Clara)

Migrations and movements between places have become a distinguishing feature of contemporary life. Anthropologist Gillian Bottomley begins her book, From Another Place, with a quote by Salman Rushdie, who dubbed the twentieth century the century of the migrant: ‘perhaps there have never been so many people who end up elsewhere than they began, whether by choice or by necessity’.!” This characterisation is very true for the nation of Italy, whose emigrations in the hundred years since unification in 1860 represent one of the largest in modern

history, estimated at ‘no less than 26 million’,!® a figure ‘roughly equivalent to the whole Italian population of 1861!!9

But Rushdie’s comment only gives us one side of the story. The very

term ‘migrant’ conjures up an image

of someone

who

is elsewhere

from where they began: not just from another place but in another place. In my work with the San Fiorese, | found that migrants often end up back where they began, but that whether ‘back there’ or elsewhere they often feel out of place. A key question for such migrants thus becomes: Where is home? For some migrants, ‘home’ becomes a shifting centre, one that does not stabilise, so that the centre finds itself wherever the migrant is not,”° resulting in what Edward Said has described as ‘a generalised

condition of homelessness’.*! This homelessness is painfully evident in

the restlessness of many San Fiorese migrants; when they are in Perth, they desire to be in San Fior, yet soon after arriving in San Fior, they wish to be back in Perth. In this sense the migrants are like pilgrims, as Zigmunt Bauman explains: ‘For pilgrims through time, the truth is elsewhere; the true place is always some distance, some time away. Wherever the pilgrim may be now, it is not where he ought to be, and not where he dreams of being’.*? The regular visits home for migrants may indeed be the main integrating factor in their lives. Some commentators argue that the search for home and for belonging is a condition of postmodern society, characterising the lives of

Introduction: The Road Home

7

migrants and non-migrants alike.** The migrants’ visits, for example, have an impact on hometown life: the locals experience a sense of dislocation or displacement not unlike that of the migrants themselves.2°? The visitors, by their very arrival, call into question the existence of a quintessential hometown identity that is based on an unbroken connection to place. Is home nothing more than the memory of our past, and therefore are we all apart from it? Visits home question the importance of place, in particular the place we call home, to constructions of identity and belonging. Clearly, one of the questions at the heart of the debate about the relationship between place and identity concerns the importance of geography and its changing status in the contemporary world. The way we theorise place and space has important implications for the way we understand social processes. Migration studies can offer an important perspective on these questions because the migrant’ identity

is characterised by movement between places. Until recently the images the word

‘immigration’ evoked were ones of rupture, uprooting, and

loss of homeland. Analyses of immigrant populations in the social sciences have tended to view the migrants home and host societies, and the local patterns of social relations and systems of meanings of each place, as discrete, homogenous entities, each with its own separate economy, culture and historical trajectory.2° Geographical space has thus tended to be represented as discontinuous, neatly defined by borders matching thick black lines on a map. In fact, as Akhil Gupta and James Ferguson point out, ‘the distinctiveness of societies, nations and cultures is based upon [this] seemingly unproblematic division of space’, upon the notion that they occupy ‘naturally’ separate and separated spaces.?’ This premise of discontinuity has begun to be questioned, for example through the enormous interest recently shown in the various processes of globalisation and their impact on the relationship between place and identity. Contemporary life is characterised by the homogenisation of cultural products and practices (often referred to as the McDonald-isation

or Coca-Cola-isation

of the world).

In addition,

improvements in the speed, ease and relative cost of travel and communication have significantly changed the frequency of contact between people. The geographical boundaries separating people are no longer seen to dictate ethnic group boundaries. The resultant ‘global village’, inhabited by an increasingly mobile populace, is thought to produce a profound sense of loss of territorial roots and an erosion of the cultural distinctiveness of places. Thus, de-territorialised identities are said to characterise the postmodern world, inhabiting cosmopolitan societies that no longer operate within nation-states but rather within

8

Visits Home

the world as a whole.”® However, a simultaneous but contrasting set of processes, known as localism, has also been evident—most alarmingly

in the rise of nationalist wars. These (albeit extreme) manifestations of attachment to homeland attest to the continuing importance of place in people’s constructions of identity. The global/ocal process is central to understanding migration. Despite the frequently restrictive political divisions and immigration requirements, immigrants attempt to live their lives across borders and develop and maintain their ties to two (or more) homes, even when their countries of origin and settlement are geographically distant.?9 In addition, despite the global nature of social processes, migrants continue to identify with specific places and to construct their communal identities accordingly. These contrasting sets of tensions are partly

accounted for by the notion of transnational migration.*° The term

‘transnational’ is defined as ‘the process by which immigrants forge and sustain multi-stranded social relations that link together their societies of origin and settlement’. Transmigrants, then, are people ‘who take actions, make decisions, and develop subjectivities and identities embedded in networks of relationships that connect them simultaneously to two or more nation-states’.*! In this perspective, the ‘old’ and ‘new’ homelands and the migrants’ lives are considered part of the

same social field.32

What types of connections do migrants have with both their old and new homelands? How do people manage and sustain relationships over long distances of space and time? An analysis of return visits helps to answer these questions. The return visit must be recognised as a central part of the migration process; it is one of its stages. The migration process extends beyond the settlement of the first generation, well into the experiences of those individuals who comprise the second and subsequent generations, who also participate in visits home. Indeed, the migrants from San Fior are not only expected to return, they are morally obliged to do so. The return visit ensures that relationships of reciprocity are maintained between people in both places. These reciprocal relationships are contextualised in shared experiences and in the social construction of place and identity. The complicated web of social relations that develop out of regular return visits reveals that migrants draw upon and create fluid and multiple identities grounded both in their old and in their new homelands. One of the consequences of migratory movements on migrants’ identity is that, on the one hand, their migrant status marginalises them in the host country—they become ‘ethnic’ or ‘Italian’ in the Australian context—while on the other, the markedness of being ‘Australian-like’ in the home country ‘entraps [them] in a circular quest

Introduction: The Road Home

9

for an increasingly elusive identity’.*? Similarly, the attachment to place of migrants like the San Fiorese ensures that part of their identity is tied up with ‘being San Fiorese’, even after decades of life and settlement

in Perth. The

experience

of migration,

however,

transforms

emigrants into australiani in the eyes of the townspeople, so that the emigrants cannot readily merge back into hometown life. Nevertheless, in Perth the San Fiorese consider themselves Italian. A result of these multiple identities is the construction of a unique (if elusive) San Fiorese-Australian identity. Theorising migration as a process that continues beyond settlement has important implications for theories of cultural transmission. Studies of ethnic minorities that do not consider migration as ‘transnational interaction’ often produce an image of culture ‘as a kind of package of attributes carried across from the homeland’.** This reified view of culture can lead to the idea that culture is lost and/or watered down over the generations, or alternatively that migrants are frozen in a kind of time warp, remaining enmeshed in the culture of their place of origin from the set time of their departure. Theorising return visits as part of the migration process provides an avenue for considering transnational interaction.

Many migrants, like Clara, feel most at home when they’re travelling between places. In this sense the road itself, or the travelling back, is

what helps to constitute a particular place as home. Similarly, the very act of travelling or journeying can transform the identity of the migrant. The return visit is an example of how ‘movement through time and space becomes the arena in which social meaning and subjectivity are

constructed’.3> Thus, the movement involved in migration is central to

understanding constructions of place and person, even if that movement is only imagined and longed for. An analysis of return visits, therefore, calls for a focus on migrancy (the movement involved in migration). Surprisingly, this is seldom the focus of migration studies; rather, the effects of migration are given primacy. In dealing with two fieldwork sites, San Fior and Perth, I am trying to connect people and places, separated not only by thousands of miles, but also by different experiences dependent upon such factors as time of departure and the social and economic conditions of these various times, as well as such personal issues as motive for departure, gender,

age and class. The challenge of linking such disparate entities theoretically, and of focusing on the movement between them, was perhaps first self-consciously taken up by anthropologist Phillip Mayer (from

10

Visits Home

the famous Rhodes-Livingston Institute of the 1960s). Mayer saw

the separate studies of Africans in towns and of Africans in the tribal homelands as incomplete. To deal with this arbitrary and deceptive distinction, Mayer called for a study of migrancy itself: It might well challenge the anthropologist to redefine such concepts as social personality, role, status, or social field—or at least to inquire

whether redefinition is necessary—so as to suit a situation where Ego habitually moves back and forth between urban ‘society’ and tribal ‘society’. The concept of migrancy, as such, requires sociological

scrutiny.©

Migrancy is not simply about geographical movement but cultural continuity, discontinuity and transmutation. The social construction of identity and, in particular, the constructs of ‘family’, ‘community’ and ‘nation’, are profoundly affected by migrancy. Situations where ‘Ego habitually moves back and forth’ between two places involve movement between at least two constructions of community identity. Mayer's study dealt with the identities of the ‘townsman’ and the ‘tribesman’ and the development of a theory of urbanisation. I am concerned with the construction of ethnic identity and attachment to place (known in Italian as campanilismo) and the development of a theory of return visitation. What I want to make clear here is that the study of migrancy is necessarily the study of identity construction. As Nikos Papastergiadis argues: ‘Departures and returns are rarely, if ever, final, and so it is important that we acknowl-

edge the transformative effect of the journey, and in general recognise

that space is a dynamic field in which identities are in a constant state

of interaction’.>”

Of course, the recognition of continuing interaction between homeland and host country is not entirely new to the social sciences. The

transnational migrant

is not a new

phenomenon.

Rather, previous

conceptualisations of immigrants and migration have precluded us from perceiving the manner in which immigrants, as they settle in a new society, extend their social fields to include their home societies. Among many researchers of migration there has been a recognition that the process of migration could not be captured by the existing categories. Thus ‘permanent migrants’ are often viewed as if they have no ties to their old homeland and ‘return migrants’ are often treated as if their migration experience had no impact on their resettlement. ‘Temporary migrants’ ‘sojourners’/‘guest workers’, of which there are many types, perhaps inspire us most to consider the connections between home and host communities. Contemporary examples include the Jewish aliyah (return migration) to Israel and the Turkish Gastarbeiter (guest-

Introduction: The Road Home

11

workers) in Germany, who, until recently, would never receive permanent citizenship, even if they spent their whole lives there.

In their edited volume, Circulation in Third World Countries, R. Mansell

Prothero and Murray Chapman criticise the ‘implicit, if not explicit, acceptance of the uniform phenomenon, “migration”, and a uniform participant, “migrant”’, as ‘naive and misleading’.** In order to break down the monolithic category called ‘migrant’ the editors differentiate between migration and a phenomenon they call ‘circulation’. Circulatory movements describe the situations where people move from their places of residence for varying periods of time but ultimately return to them. Prothero and Chapman argue that circulation is a grossly neglected aspect of population mobility, which, having been studied within diverse disciplines, is designated by a confusing variety of terms including ‘return migration’, ‘circular migration’, ‘wage-labour migration’, ‘seasonal mobility’, ‘sojourner movements’, ‘transhumance’, and ‘commuting’. Today’s increasingly common multinational ‘fly-in fly-out’ employment contracts might also be added to this list. The idea that migration involves circulation—the reciprocal flow not only of people but also of ideas, goods, services and socio-cultural influences—begins to capture the transnational nature of migration. However, a person who migrated to Australia from Italy in the 1920s and settled here would not normally be described as a circulatory migrant. Yet, despite this person's long-term settlement in the host country, their migration experience needs to be considered from a transnational perspective. In this way, migrants’ return visits, or at least their desire to return, can be analysed as an important characteristic of the phenomenon of migration. Circulatory migration is usually discussed in the context of third world migration. It is generally characterised as involving the interchange between one mode of production and another resulting from socio-economic disequilibrium. The economic features of contemporary migrations in the so-called first world may not always suit this pattern. However, the other characteristic of circulation is certainly pertinent to all migrations—that it ‘permits the integration of distinct places and circumstances’.*? The integration of distinct places or communities is of particular interest to me; treating the home and host countries as part of the same social field has guided the writing of this book.*° I agree with the French geographers who defined circulation as ‘the underlying dynamic of population distribution and the connecting mechanisms of various lifeways’ and, as such, ‘the focus in circulation studies may be upon patterns of flow, as of the international

movement of passengers and commodities, or even more importantly

upon the intrinsic nature and meaning of places: their evolution,

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Visits Home

persistence, and integration’.*! What the French geographers intended by ‘the meaning of places’ 1 would interpret as the way people identify with place. I agree that ‘persistent circulation gradually endows places and regions of origin with heightened meaning both for the locally born and for outsiders’.4* My ethnographic findings support the view that, even when

at their destination, ‘movers continue to be linked

with their natal communities by a cross-flow of remittances, invest-

ments, food and visiting kin’.?

Attention to the meaning of places and, therefore, the connections between people in different places, is a significant advancement on the less comprehensive approach of researchers who view migration as only involving the interchange of people between places and situations. The more

macroscopic

approach,

in particular that of economists,

which is especially concerned with the great transnational flows of labour, tends to strip the actor of agency, volition, consciousness and culture: ‘To satisfy basic socioeconomic needs, the migrant worker is seen as locked into the world capitalist system and must move cyclically, and mostly involuntarily, between domestic (pre-capitalist) and introduced (capitalist) modes of production’.** In this view, the

choice and decision of the migrant to leave his or her homeland is completely predetermined by the world capitalist system. I am concerned with the way in which migrants and townspeople themselves create the connections between their distinct worlds. Thus, the studies

of circulation in the third world that I find most useful are those that

focus on social field and social network.

The individual is located in a network of social relationships. The analysis of labour circulation thus involves different levels of abstrac-

tion, which J. Clyde Mitchell distinguishes as

the setting and situation of social action—the macroscopic economic, political and administrative context as against the particular circumstances within which movers are enmeshed—and between social field and social network: the diverse social forces that connect places of origin and destination, some aspects of which affect the kinds of mobility decisions taken by the individual.*°

The significance of Mitchell's distinction between the macro ‘setting’ and the micro ‘situation’ is that the actions of individuals can only be understood by being placed within their diverse contexts. To recognise the diversity of contexts which make up an individual’ migration

process is to begin to theorise migration as transnational interaction.*®

To theorise migration as transnational interaction is to begin to recognise migration as a tremendously complex social equation. To deal with this complexity, Bottomley calls for ‘interdisciplinary frameworks

Introduction: The Road Home

13

[in migration studies], including anthropology, sociology, political economy and ... a form of poetics’. Her description of such an approach includes a long list of analytical and theoretical requirements, including a call to question the interrelations between structured circumstances and cultural practices; knowledge of origin, modes of origin and current circumstances; acknowledgement of continuing interaction between homeland and countries of emigration of the subjects being studied; as well as analyses of social power, ‘of the ways in which cultural forms are constructed, dismantled and re-negotiated in the struggle for access to valued resources, for economic and

symbolic capital’.*”

The use of the term ‘transnational’ migration to draw attention to the fact that migrants develop their identities in response to both their home and host societies is not entirely satisfactory. Even internal migration (that is, migration within a particular nation-state) may involve movement from an ‘old’ home to a ‘new’ one, especially in a country characterised by huge distances, such as Australia. Similarly, in Italy, where identities are constructed at the regional, provincial, town and even frazione (hamlet) level, perhaps the term ‘translocal’ migration is more

appropriate.

In his writing about new ways of

imagining space and place, Arjun Appadurai employs the term ‘ethnoscape’, which he defines as the ‘landscape of persons who make up the

shifting world in which we live’.*® Paul Virilio has coined the term

‘trajective’ to highlight the fact that identities are partly formed by and in the journey.*? Whatever term is used, understanding migration involves theorising migrancy—people in movement—including the phenomenon of return visits. San Fiorese conceptions of migration were influenced by at least four interrelated factors: the economic and political developments in Australia and Italy; the social histories of the migrant and source communities; the different phases in each migrant’s family life or domestic cycle; and the changing cultural codes and values which informed their choices. The return visits of Perth San Fiorese to their native town are anticipated journeys and as such are proof of the migration strategy.°° Bottomley’s interdisciplinary frameworks are necessary to unravel the meaning of these visits. Building on Frederick Barth’s and Anthony Cohen's theories of community construction allowed me to analyse the key symbols that reflect important cultural values and, through this, to comprehend the significance of return visits in the lives of the San Fiorese.>! The cultural values that I found to underlie people's experience of migration are campanilismo (attachment to place), sistemazione (setting oneself up) and the obligation to return.

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Visits Home

The Ties that Bind Every Italian town that contributed to the emigration exodus bears witness to its history of migration, whether in the private letters and photographs of residents, or in the public monuments that grace the village squares. About 300000 Italian migrants arrived in Australia and, together with their descendants, they make up at least 3.2 per cent of the population today.** Since the largest wave of post-World War II migration, a number of developments attest to the connections between the two countries at state and community levels. For example, dual citizenship is now more easily attainable, several Italian cities have organised gemellaggio (sister city status) with Australian cities and there are a number of migrant organisations that span both countries. But it is at the individual level that the links between the two countries are most evident. Emigrants, in their adopted homes, keep mementoes

of their natal towns.

Migrants began arriving in Perth from San Fior, a town in the province of Treviso, in the Veneto region, north-eastern Italy, in the 1920s. The descendants of the first emigrants to arrive in Perth from San Fior have a large photograph of their paternal household in their dining room. Another family has the name, ‘San Fior’, painted on a sign on the front wall of their house. And another built their home in the style of those in San Fior today. In the entrance hall of his twostorey Italian-style villa, one man has hung an oil painting of the church in San Fior. Another man, after I had interviewed him, served me wine

from Treviso. Invariably I would find signs of San Fior in these migrants’ houses, and always I would be shown photographs, lots and lots of

photographs.

The emigrants’ townspeople in Italy also harbour signs and symbols of their loved ones abroad. During 1988 and 1989 | lived in San Fior, renting a room from Grazia, the 86-year-old mother of a Perth emigrant. Until her death in 1999, Grazia kept a shrine in her living room with an electric candle, rosary beads, fresh flowers and photographs of deceased relatives. The care and attention she devoted to her deceased kin was matched by the care and attention she displayed to her distant loved ones. On the wall above the refrigerator hung recent photos of her emigrant son and his family. The room was full of Australiana gifts: posters of koalas and kangaroos and wall-hangings with wildflower motifs. Every day these signs of her son were dusted with care when she returned from the cemetery where she had visited the graves of her beloved. Grazia attended mass daily. In church she prayed for all her family, and often lit candles for individual members living in Italy and abroad.

Introduction: The Road Home

15

Emilia-Romagna

The regions of Italy

Grazia had several albums that contained photographs of her son’s many visits. Her most prized photos, however, were of her own trips to Perth. Very few people in San Fior have visited Australia. As we pored over the albums during our first meeting, drinking Australian tea, Grazia explained the detail of each photo to me with tears of joy and of pain. Another local, Mrs Gardin, after recalling the hardship,

first of her emigration and then of her repatriation to San Fior, asked her children to enlarge some old photos of Perth which now grace the

16

Visits Home

BELLUNO

TREVISO

ROVIGO

The Veneto region, Italy

salotto (drawing-room) walls. The returnees were all keen to share their memories of Perth, and, after a few glasses of wine, some even ventured

to share the English words they could recall. The townspeople in general were interested in my work and, from the beginning and throughout my subsequent visits in 1993, 1997 and 1999, rather than ‘tell’ me about their lives, they spoke didactically and ‘taught’ me a great deal about the vicissitudes of migration. —_——

In the introduction to her study of a new suburb in Melbourne, Nobody’s Home, Lyn Richards explains that the presentation of her findings

Introduction: The Road Home

17

is governed by the conviction that data are constructed in interaction between researchers and researched, and keep changing. Researchers can extract few unchanging objective ‘truths’ from a studied setting (and the available ones are generally uninteresting). Their task is to do their best to understand and keep on interpreting what is going on and the meanings people put on socially constructed reality.**

Like Richards, I am principally concerned in this book with the process of ‘meaning giving’. The theoretical stance used to convey this aware-

ness is based on the anthropology of meaning, which has as its base

the discourse of people. Its purpose is to identify the emic categories

of the everyday idiom, and through these to make sense of ‘popular’ reality—the reality of the people. In the chapters that follow are individual representations, be they recollections, aspirations, descriptions or explanations. I have repro-

duced exactly portions of informants’ dialogue and these make up a significant proportion of the ethnography. 1 employ oral testimonies to locate the different discourses on migration, and my work could be

described as both ethnohistorical and ethnomethodological.

Luisa

Passerini, in her book Fascism in Popular Memory, makes use of oral testimonies for what they tell us, directly and indirectly, about the everyday side of culture, including the ‘mentalities’ characteristic of (though not exclusive to) the working population; the understanding of the world passed down from generation to generation through oral tradition; the conflicts of power that take place on a cultural and symbolic

plane rather than within a narrow political sphere.*?

Social reality is here conceived, in a Schutzian sense, as being made up of different ‘realities’.°° In the social construction and constitution of this plurality of realities, what is at issue is their interpretation via emic representation. Each reality represents the world view of a particular group in society, the connections between these realities, and the effect of time. Each reality represents a discourse over time,>” the maintenance of which requires both transmission and transmutation or change. My

final object then is to theorise the phenomenon of return visits in

order to better understand the discourses on identity and attachment to home town in Italy and Australia—San Fior and Perth. This will show how the phenomenon of return visits adds a new perspective to

the concept of ethnicity. In researching for this book, I conducted fieldwork consisting of

both qualitative and quantitative data collection. I undertook participant observation wherever possible but mainly in San Fior and at the

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Visits Home

Laguna Veneto Social and Bocce Club.*® In San Fior, I participated as fully as possible in town life by attending all official functions as well as engaging informally with townspeople. I conducted semi-structured interviews,

each

on average two hours

long, which

included

the

collection of migration and visit histories as well as the construction of genealogies. All interviews were recorded on tape. Relevant statistical and census information was gathered from both municipal and parish records in San Fior and the Chamber of Commerce in Treviso. Although all informants were happy to have their personal histories recorded in this study, I have changed their names to ensure their privacy. I have retained the Italian or Anglo character of all given names and the regional character of all surnames. Particular surnames are associated with specific places in Italy. Veneto names, for example, often end in a consonant (particularly ‘n’ as in Benetton but also ‘I’, ‘r’ and ‘t’ as in Saccol, Baldassar and Fiorot). Given that families have

lived in one town for generations, certain family names have come to

be associated with certain towns. In this way, particular names are distinctively San Fiorese. In addition, because of the nature of chain

migration,

many

San Fiorese surnames

are associated with specific

countries, for example, many members of the Covre family migrated to France. The surnames I use in this study are nearly all Veneto names, however, I do not use any of the names of people I actually interviewed. All quotations from interviews are in English. If the informant spoke in English | have reproduced their dialogue exactly. If they spoke in Italian or dialect, I have translated their dialogue as closely as possible into English. Each group, and particularly each generation within each group, has a particular way of communicating. Broken English and Italian dialect (the languages most often spoken to me) are a rich repository of metaphor and meaning, and they convey a sense of the speaker’ struggle to communicate to the listener. Meaning would be lost if the peculiar phrasing was translated into the standard language forms. When I conducted interviews in Italy I spoke standard Italian. The people I interviewed in Italy spoke either standard Italian or dialect. Generally, only young people and professionals spoke the former. The majority of informants in Italy spoke dialect but they could all understand

the standard

form.

In Australia,

interviews

were

invariably a

mixture of English, Italian and dialect. People generally spoke their first language with me. The Australian-born always spoke English. Older people spoke English if they wanted to stress an important point, and they spoke Italian if they wanted to express a complex point. Contrary to the view that men speak better English due to their work

experiences, I found that women were generally the more adept. Male

Introduction: The Road Home

19

informants generally had similar employment histories, initially working with other Italians in the timber industry and later in self-owned

small businesses. Women, who were much more involved in child care

than the men, learnt English from their Australian-born children. All the Australian informants could understand English but I responded in whatever language they used to me, unless I thought I had been misunderstood. Susan Gal has shown that urban bilingual speakers in linguistically

stratified communities tend to rank speech events by levels of intimacy

and formality, and use the dominant language in all but the most informal situations.°? My experiences would support Gal’ findings. In Italy, informants often used the standard form of the language with me. As we became better acquainted they began to use the local dialect more. In Australia, informants from San Fior generally began an interview in English but soon changed to dialect as our discussion progressed.

I Licence to Leave,

Obligations to Receive Examination of the personal as a construct for manipula-

tion within social structures leads inevitably to considera-

tion of its role in fieldwork itself.!

My

academic

interest in Italian-Australians

was,

at first, not readily

appreciated by my Italian-born father. Upon completion of my Bachelor's degree, he was anxious for me to find a job and had offered some initial resistance to my returning to university to do an honours degree. I was

anxious about telling him that I had decided to do postgraduate studies. When I finished my honours degree, I was offered what my father considered ‘a good job with the government’. I felt certain that having a stable job would make his objection to my doing further studies even stronger. When I finally mustered enough courage to tell my father that I intended to pursue postgraduate studies in Italy, I was greatly surprised by his reaction. Instead of objecting, he seemed happy with the idea. When he discovered that I intended to conduct a study of his home town he was visibly moved and immediately encouraging. I was going

to Italy, back to my roots, undertaking a journey my father insisted would change me and ‘make me more Italian’. I realised that I was about to embark on a very special pilgrimage—a rite of passage. I began that rite of passage along the road ‘home’ at the appropriate

age of twenty-one. I had wanted to be independent since I began my tertiary studies and my parents’ objections to my moving out only made me more determined. Finally, I had been given ‘licence to leave’. I thought I was headed for some autonomy but I soon discovered what my father knew all too well: I would be carefully looked after by my kin in Italy. For even though my father had spent most of his life in

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive

21

Australia, he could still take for granted his ties to his family in Italy and

rely on them

to make

me

welcome.

He, in his turn, had been

given licence to leave, and this ensured that we both remained a part of his family with access to all of the privileges, as well as the responsibilities, that brought. My father’s and his townspeople’s migrations had been condoned by the communities to which they belonged. Their migration histories are inextricably linked to the histories of their home towns. In this way, both the migrants and their townspeople in Italy maintain mutual ties of obligation—the former to return and the latter to receive them. Licence to leave is therefore an important factor in determining the type of incorporation a return visit will provide. Barely aware of the significance of the licence I left with, but full of enthusiasm nonetheless, I couldn't wait to escape the restraints of my life in Perth. I planned to arrive in Rome, then travel to a small town,

Pagani, outside Naples, for an international youth conference, after which I would make my way to the Veneto region in the north-east to stay with my extended paternal family and start fieldwork. My relatives in Tarzo (in the Veneto) knew I would be attending the conference and while they were convinced I'd be kidnapped, murdered or at the very least raped in bass’Italia (southern Italy), they were impressed by my official status as Australian representative at the conference. An Egyptian friend who had lived in Rome organised for two of his friends, Adel and Magdi, who were also Egyptian, to meet me at Rome airport and show me around the ‘eternal city’ for a couple of days before I travelled down to Naples. I assumed I would be able to stay at the Redemptorist monastery while in Rome—after all, they were the conference organisers and had contributed to my travel costs. I arrived carrying a red hanky, so that Adel and Magdi would recognise me. We crammed my backpack into their miniature car and set out. On arrival at the monastery, I discovered that female conference delegates were not allowed to stay there. A room could not be found for me at any of the neighbouring convents and Magdi very kindly suggested I could stay at his girlfriend's place for a couple of nights. | was apprehensive, as I didn’t know Adel and Magdi personally, and pointed this out to the priest who was assisting me. After a brief, private word with them, he assured me that there was nothing to worry about. While I did not have as much faith in the priest's word as he himself did, I was happy enough with the arrangement. It was mid-morning, so we set off for a sightseeing trip around Rome.

The next two days were a fantastic blur: cobblestoned streets, the Vatican, the Cistine chapel, gelato, espresso, leather shops, shoe shops,

vino, vongole and so on. | discovered twilight and its enchanting effects

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Visits Home

on the Colosseum and the Forum. I threw coins in the Trevi fountain,

had my portrait painted in Piazza Navona, and almost got run over several times. The two guys were delightful company. I knew, however, that they saw me as a potential passport to Australia. On the third day, I set out by bus for Pagani where the conference occupied me for the next fortnight. I then returned to Rome, where I planned to spend a day or two with my new friends before taking a train to my nonna’. Adel and Magdi offered to drive me to the Veneto, as they had never been north of Rome. They were keen to visit Florence and Venice on the way. I thought how lucky I was to get a lift. Adel had a degree in law, he was quiet, unassuming, and frustrated by his work as an unskilled labourer in Italy. Magdi was quite the Casanova; he had won body-building titles and had been pictured on the cover of sporting magazines. I rang my family in Tarzo and told them I would be arriving a few days late because I had been offered a lift by some friends (no doubt they assumed these were female Redemptorists). We travelled through Tuscany and stopped off in Florence and then went to Verona and Venice. I began to be concerned that my family would find my arrival with these two Egyptians something of a scandal. I was aware of the sensitive nature of the anthropologist’s entry, but I was also committed to challenging traditional ideas about appropriate female behaviour. This would not be the first time that the mantle of anthropological fieldworker sat uncomfortably with my status as a family member. When we arrived at my uncle’s house, however, my friends sensed the awkwardness of the reunion and excused themselves to do some sightseeing. They stayed the night and departed early the next morning. 1 remember how impressed my aunt was that they had made their own beds—my male cousins and uncles to this day do not participate in such household chores. Not long after, one of my female cousins told me how amazed she was that I had arrived with two Moroccans—Marocchini as she called them, a term that conjures up the stereotype of the vu compra or poor black street vendor, the butt of much racial prejudice in Italy.? She said I was forte—(literally ‘strong’, figuratively ‘impressive’) to have arrived in such a fashion (1 wondered whether she also thought I was slightly mad). While I was staying in Tarzo, Adel would telephone occasionally to see how I was getting on and my aunt came to recognise him as an

acceptable platonic male friend. One of the most useful things I learnt from this first experience was the importance of being honest about who your beliefs and values. From the outset, I struggled with roles of family member and anthropological fieldworker. My

fieldwork you are, my joint family in

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive

23

Italy never viewed me as a researcher, and my work (organising and conducting interviews with all manner of people) sometimes made it difficult for me to conform to the cultural specifications of ‘the good Italian girl’. The closest I got to having my work recognised was to be identified as a student. I had thought that the most appropriate way to blend in as an anthropologist would be to rely on my status as an insider through my identity as a migrant family member. The pressures about expectation and behaviour that I experienced I believed resulted from this decision, and were exclusive to my peculiar experience as an insider-anthropologist on the road home. Later I discovered that many of the issues I was grappling with about acceptable ways of being and doing were also familiar to other visiting migrants. Issues about belonging and identity had plagued my life and the lives of those people I grew up with. I was born in Perth in the 1960s, the eldest of three children. My father is the only member of his family who settled in Australia. He migrated from Tarzo to Perth in 1956. My mother was born in the south-west of Western Australia. Her parents are Lombard emigrants from the Valtellina, in the province of Sondrio, on the Swiss-Italian border. My mother’s family has a history of migration to Australia that spans four generations. Her maternal great-grandfather migrated to Western Australia for a few years in the 1890s but returned to Italy due to illness. My mother’s maternal grandfather migrated to Perth in 1925, and it was fourteen years before he could afford to pay his family’s passage to Australia. Despite this long history of Australian migration, my mother and her siblings were the first generation of her family to be born in Australia. The Lombard migrants I had connections with (through my mother’s family) mainly lived in the rural countryside, south-west of Perth. I grew up in the city where my father was a member of a Veneto social club called Laguna, a reference to the lagoon of Venice, principal city in the Veneto region. I attended Laguna whenever my family went, at least once a week, generally on Sundays. About the time I started high school, going to Laguna became something of a chore. My non-ltalian friends from school were spending their weekends together, and none of them appeared to have to frequent a place like Laguna with their parents. Because Laguna represented ‘being Italian’ to my father, my resistance alarmed him, and his reaction was to enforce my presence there. This became a source of conflict. My father interpreted my lack of interest in Laguna as a rejection of italianita. By italianita 1 mean the set of values and beliefs an individual associates with being Italian. According to my father, everything I did was ‘Australian’. In our household, ‘being Australian’ was set up in

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contention with ‘being Italian’. Indeed, all identities are defined in opposition; there are many and varied theories to define ethnic group identity, but one point they all include is the notion that ethnicity only

has salience in contexts of interaction between groups that are perceived

to be different.? In our case, the conflict concerned the transmission of

traditions: how was I going to deal with the values my father had brought me up to believe in, and how was he going to deal with mine? Laguna became the catalyst. Children of other Laguna members were not attending the club unless forced to do so, and I suspected similar conflicts existed in all families. I decided to research these intergenerational tensions and began by talking to several adult club members. Without exception, these adults complained that their teenage children were not interested in Laguna, which fuelled their concern for the club’s future. I initially interpreted the parents’ concern and their children’s hostility in the light of the accepted sociological viewpoint at the time, that second and third generation migrants will be ‘Australian’ and no longer carriers of ethnic cultural baggage.* For example, Price, looking at intra-ethnic marriage statistics as an indication of ethnic community viability, concluded that ‘most immigrant groups are breaking up quite rapidly’ and that the second and subsequent generations, ‘while sometimes being quite proud or intrigued at their ethnic origins, will be identified with the mass of the population as “Australian”.° In such work, ethnic groups are represented as being at risk of losing their ethnicity through the ‘loss’ of their subsequent generations and, by implication, their failure to transmit culture. This view is summed up by Lidio Bertelli, who described intergenerational difference as ‘the major challenge to the Italian community in the next few decades’.© Although this culture loss or ‘straight line’ theory has been criticised as too simplistic,’ it has been a dominant viewpoint regarding the future of migrants in Australia. Notwithstanding Australia’s policy of multi-

culturalism, the process of cultural transmission is often imagined as

breaking down or weakening, resulting in the immigrants’ culture seeping out to be lost for ever and replaced by Australian-ness. The forecast of the loss of culture in the second and subsequent generations is not based on empirical evidence but rather derives predominantly from the theories of ethnicity and the ethnic group models used to represent them. What is at issue here is the way cultural transmission is theorised.

Di Leonardo,

in her work

on Italians in

California, debunks the family-model theory of ethnicity, which defines ethnicity as dependent on family culture. In this view, culture is thought to be static and unchanging and its transmission conceptualised in terms of normative behaviour: ‘ethnic cultures are merely mental tracks,

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive

25

transmitted through families (women), over which ethnics travel— rather than cognitive resources that they strategically choose and alter over time’.® Similarly, the conflation of culture with ethnicity implies the existence of homogenous categories (such as ‘Italian culture’) and masks the divisions and intersections that exist within such categories.° I set out to test the hypothesis that members of the second generation were losing their culture and expected to find that Laguna youth, though not necessarily ‘Australian’ (whatever that is), were at least very un-'Italian’. After all, they did not want to attend their parents’ Italian social club. I interviewed several Laguna youth and charted

their social networks.!°

To my surprise, I discovered an informal network of youth, the participants of which not only identified themselves as Italian, but consciously displayed their ethnic identity in a manner which created

for them a closed group.!! Unlike their parents, the Laguna youth

were interacting with Italian youth from different provincial backgrounds. The youth were all Australian-born. They thus shared a common aspect of their ethnic identity—their ‘Australian-ness’. However,

this common link between them was exactly what was being redefined. I found that ethnic identity is socially constructed and therefore that italianita does not ‘decline’ or become ‘diluted’. Rather, ethnic identity must be considered as a dynamic social resource, a set of processes

that change over time. Not all Italian youth in Perth are members of the informal youth network. The youth who comprised the network were between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five. They were all single and, of the more than one hundred participants I spoke to, only three were studying at tertiary institutions. The vast majority were employed in a range of jobs; they worked in the public service, small business, as manual labourers and tradespeople. Their parents were all labourers, small business owners or tradespeople who had migrated after World War II. In the majority of cases both parents had been born in Italy. Where

this was

not the

case,

the

mother

was

a second

generation

Italian migrant. Although I had never participated in the informal youth

network, I was still considered an insider because I shared a similar

class background and ancestry. Once I began to participate, people had no difficulty linking me into their network, because some knew me from Laguna or through my family and others through my high school and church. Like my father, the adult members of Laguna were concerned about

their children’s lack of interest in Laguna. However, those parents whose offspring were active participants in the informal youth network were not concerned about their children’s ethnic identity. The fact that these

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youth were mixing with other Italian youth and were self-consciously

identifying, in dress and behaviour, as Italians, assured parents of their

children’s italianita. The concern with ‘being Italian’ in Australia expressed by the young people in the informal network, and their interest and identification

with things Italian, led me

to consider the influence of the Italian

nation on their lives. 1 already knew that, like me, many of the youth who made up the network had visited Italy as young children with their parents. Without exception, the youth I interviewed expressed a keen desire to visit Italy. I began to question the significance of the home town in the migrants’ lives and in the lives of their Australian-born children. I noted that it was very common for Laguna members to compare Laguna to their home town. I wondered how the ‘symbolic community’ of Laguna compared with the construction of community in the respective home towns. I began to consider how the home country viewed its immigrant communities. Ultimately, 1 wanted to explore what it meant to be Italian in Italy as compared to being Italian in Australia. Clearly, I became interested in social anthropology, and in particular migration studies, because of their relevance to my life experience. Growing up in Perth in the 1970s and 1980s in an Italian household meant that I was privy to many changes in the social perception of Italians. Over the century of Italian migration to Australia, social perceptions of Italians changed from a predominantly negative stereotype, ‘diseased dago’, to an increasingly positive one of the hardworking labourer or small business owner.!* In the foreword to Robert Pascoe’s book, Buongiorno Australia, the then Prime Minister, Robert Hawke,

writes: ‘They were good workers who hardly paused from their labours

to tell their children much about their traditions and heritage’.?

The initial prejudice Italians encountered was due to several factors, not the least of which was that Italians were considered racially inferior by their hosts. In Anglo-Saxon countries, Italian labourers were not

regarded as ‘white men’.!* But the most frequent cause of friction was

economic. That Italians were inferior was reinforced by their position as unskilled labourers in agriculture and construction. Italians did not form a cross-section of the occupational distribution of the Australian population. Their occupational segregation in sugar cane production, market gardening, fishing and, later, the building industry meant they were in direct economic competition with Australians. The high degree of social ‘closure’ (or the tendency to ghettoisation) associated with this pattern of occupational differentiation generated some hostility

and exclusion by Anglo-Australian groups.!°

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27

Today, racial prejudice against Italians has lessened, while prejudice against the more recent arrivals, in particular immigrants from Southeast Asia, is increasing.!© Italians are one of the oldest immigrant groups in Australia and they are considered ‘established’ and ‘settled’ by

mainstream society. Government departments are no longer as con-

cerned about the ability of Italians in Australia to ‘access’ services as they are about immigrants from Asia, Eastern Europe, Latin America and Africa. Italians today remain predominantly in blue-collar employment in the building and fishing industries and in small business. The children of Italian migrants, however, are increasingly entering whitecollar employment, with a continuous and expanding flow into the

professions.!’ The last decade has seen a boom in the ‘ethnicity

industry’, with Italian cafes and designer labels being used as markers of italianita, particularly among the younger generation.!® The popularity of things Italian is connected to the relatively recent development of Italy’s international reputation. No longer a country of mass emigration and poverty, Italy since the 1980s has been high on the list of affluent countries. In part due to Italy’s affluence and in part due to Australia’s policy of multiculturalism, many second generation Italians are quite comfortable expressing their italianita consciously and conscientiously. The reinvention of the previously defamatory term ‘woe’, now used as a form of resistance to Anglo-Celtic or, to use the equivalent colloquialism, ‘skip’ culture, is a case in point. The success of such films as Heartbreak High, Wogboy and Looking for Alibrandi, as well as acts like Wogs Out Of Work, which promote a form of ‘wogpride’, marks a significant change in the discursive formation of Italian identity. It is interesting to note that this relatively recent, more fashionable image of wogs and, by extension, italianita is focused specifically on the second generation. In constructing their ethnicity, these second generation individuals need to negotiate complex and contrasting sets of images. On the one hand, there is the popular stereotype of the ‘wog’ and the generation-specific construction of italianita—both representing aspects of a resistance to the dominant hegemonic identity. On the other, there are the stereotypes of what it is to be Australian,

usually formed in opposition to so-called ethnic identities. These

stereotypes of ‘Aussies’ are often also attractive to migrants, most of

whom share a desire to belong and to be accepted as Australian. I myself had emerged from adolescence consciously and conscientiously rejecting the wog image and italianita in my social relationships, relieved that I could and did easily pass as a non-ethnic. And yet, the question of identity still fascinated me.

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The Return Visit of an Insider-anthropologist Malcolm Young writes: By using my own ‘personal anthropology’ (Pocock 1973), I hope, in

examining this category, to satisfy Pocock’s request that the particular humanity of people studied be put into connection with that of the insider-anthropologist. The unnecessary separation of subject and analyst can thus be avoided and ... the analyst's own ... personal history within the category can be allied to an objective assessment

in order to produce a ‘practical mastery’.!9

It is important to recognise my position as insider-anthropologist and to consider the way this has influenced my research. There are valid arguments that point to the disadvantages of studying one’s own culture. Hilary Callan and Shirley Ardener refer to the debate about reflexive anthropology in their edited work, The Incorporated Wife, the contributors to which are all ‘insiders’. They question Edmund Leach’s view that, ‘When Anthropologists study facets of their own society their vision seems to become distorted by prejudices which derive from private rather than public experience’.?° They argue instead that: the use of ‘otherness’ as a technical aid, a trick of the trade, a shelter behind which to cultivate academic

rigour, can be another kind of

limitation . . . There are structures within the social order that reveal themselves most clearly through the disciplined monitoring of personal and common life. In seeking to understand these by reflexive inquiry and to communicate understanding, each of us is necessarily her/his own recording instruments and record.?!

Leach’s argument that in reflexive anthropology the analyst's vision is distorted by private rather than public experience is a general statement that requires close attention. In my case, the experiences I document may be private, but they are commonly experienced by the people I researched. The tensions between my father and me, for example, were the same as the inter-generational tensions experienced

by our ‘co-ethnics’. A great deal of negotiating about italianita occurs between the generations within the family and for this reason an understanding of the personal is, in fact, essential for an appreciation of the collective. Analysing my position provides insights into the

processes under study. What became evident to me as I grappled with my location within so-called Italian communities was that in order to

have a place ‘inside’ I needed to theorise culture not as a zone of

shared meanings but rather as a zone of disagreement and contest.??

Recognising culture as political process in this manner eschews the

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‘straight-line’ and ‘family’ models of cultural transmission, highlighting instead the intersections of various aspects of identity, such as ethnicity, gender and sexuality, as they are continuously negotiated between the genders and the generations.

Given the subjective nature of social science, it is as important to

know the analyst as it is to know the subject; after all, the reader comes to know the subject through the analyst. How I found out about things is as much an artefact of the social and cultural phenomena | am studying as what I found out. My father’s reaction to my decision to study in Italy, for example, needs to be considered in the broader context of our relationship. Our major conflict centred on a power struggle over identity—namely, his authority over me as an ItalianAustralian daughter and my independence from him as an Italian father. This struggle was evident in our different views about the importance of attending Laguna and, in particular, the significance of living at home. ‘Moving out’ into shared accommodation was something ‘Australian girls’ did, not ‘good Italian’ ones. Once again, it is clear that the label ‘Australian’ is not a strict reference to ethnicity, but rather it is a conceptual category against which Italians in Australia identify and define themselves. Allowing me to go to Italy was, to my father, a further extension of his authority over me. I would be going to his home town where he knew I would be under the governance of his family. My decision to go was seen by him as an act of a ‘good Italian’ daughter. Like many of the contributors in the Callan and Ardener volume, my fieldwork experience was an exploration in personal anthropology where ‘personal experience has an immediacy which honestly reflects its role in the formation of intellectual judgment, and may also convey something of the mixture of comedy and pain involved’. I too had to ‘find a way around a range of technical and personal problems that are special to being “in” the situation one seeks to analyse’.?3 My entry into fieldwork, with its problems, mistakes and pains, was an experience

dependent on the particular psychologies of the people involved. On

another level, however, the fact that 1 was the child of an emigrant

who was visiting her kin meant that my experiences were comparable to those of other children who ‘return’ to visit the home towns of their parents. In this sense, the difficulties and the joys I encountered were artefacts of the very processes under investigation.

Like di Leonardo, I found the usual ethnographic encounter, in a sense, reversed: ‘Instead of learning to understand members of a different culture, I learned that I had not understood members of my own’.** Like all anthropologists, ‘I learned the primary ethnomethodological lesson: that I was not “collecting data”, but engaging in complex

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emotional interactions with other human beings; it was necessary to

understand their perceptions of me and of our interactions in order to

interpret the information they offered’.*°

I had initially wanted to do fieldwork in my fathers home town because a visit to the parents’ birthplace was the type of journey made by many of the Italian-Australian youth I had interviewed. Soon, however, I realised that using my father’s home town as my fieldwork site was not going to work. Family embroilments not only restricted my ability to gain access to people but, on a more personal level, they restricted my very being. There was a specific way for single women to be, and this way could not easily involve doing fieldwork. 1 learnt fundamental lessons about how individuals are defined and controlled by the households in which they live, by ‘household governance’. On subsequent field-trips in 1993, 1997 and 1999, I found I had much

more autonomy to conduct my work in the manner I chose. The fact that I was older and married (my husband accompanied me for part of the time on two of these visits) helped enormously. But, most importantly, I was known to, and had developed personal relationships with, my kin. I had also begun to be accepted as a professional academic.

The Governance of Households On that first trip to Italy in 1987 I stayed for three months in a frazione of Tarzo called Colmaggiore, in the house in which my grandmother lived. Then I moved to my aunt’ house in another frazione, Corbanese, where I remained for the following nine months. During that time, my position in my father’s family would best be described as equivocal. My kin struggled to understand me, and I them. Despite the displays of generous hospitality, 1 never knew if I was truly accepted. Being young and female meant that I was expected to heed certain restrictions and fulfil certain duties. I quickly became responsible for many household chores that could have easily taken up all my time. Being a family member and unaccompanied by my parents meant that my relatives were responsible for my welfare. Being single meant that my relatives were responsible for my honour. My reputation was automatically a reflection of their own, as theirs was of mine. In local parlance, | was

sotto (under the governance of) the household I lived in.?6

My father had directed me to my grandmother’ house because this was the only house to which he had any direct rights. However, my grandmother no longer lived in her own house. She had moved into a new house built by one of her sons. In Tarzo, residence was traditionally

patrilocal; sons remained in their father’s households and brought their wives to live with them. The job of caring for aged parents, therefore,

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usually falls to daughters-in-law. My uncle had remained in the parental household at marriage.?”? Consequently, it was expected that my grandmother would remain with him when he moved to a new house. The move had a profound effect on my grandmother; in the new home she

was

no

longer

the padrona

(mistress).

She

had

to surrender

governance of the household to her daughter-in-law. Similarly, my aunt's circumstances were dramatically changed, having finally moved into her own domain of authority after living sotto (under) her motherin-law for over two decades. I had been naive enough to think that leaving my parents’ home would mean I would gain some independence. Moving into my uncle's home in Tarzo, however, simply meant a transfer of authority from my

father to my father’s brother and his wife. Tension over power within

households is a common theme in Italian popular culture. The Taviani

brothers’ film, Padre, Padrone (Father, Master), describes the plight of a

Sardinian man who can only free himself from his father’s brutal authority by leaving the island. The implications of the popular song, E Qui Comando Io (literally, ‘And Here 1 Command’; figuratively, ‘I am the master here’), which my father and his paesani often sing at Laguna, became clear to me. The words of the chorus are: ‘I am the master here, and this house is mine. Every day I want to know who comes and who goes’. As directed by my father, I went to my grandmother’. Here I learnt my first lessons about figura (face). It was expected that I live with my grandmother, and my uncle’s family were not only happy to welcome me, they were also morally obliged. I was forbidden to pay rent, which not only meant that my presence was an economic cost on the family, but also that I was indebted to them for their hospitality. There was no study space for me to work in, and because fieldwork does not resemble ‘work’, I was continually called upon to run errands, do housework

and generally be a fictive and unemployed daughter. One of the most obvious examples of the tension between my needs and their expectations centred around food (meal times, I discovered later, are a site of contestation for all visiting migrants—many of whom enjoy losing the battle). Contrary to the popular stereotype of the fat Italian mamma, women in Italy, especially in the north, are extremely weight conscious. My female cousins were forever serving themselves bird-sized meals while my aunt would heap my plate up, as was the culturally appropriate way of making me welcome, and I was expected to eat everything I was offered, as this was the culturally accepted way of honouring the host. You can imagine what this was doing to my weight! My requests for less were invariably met with the protest: ‘But what will your father say—that we don’t feed you enough?’

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1 thought that an easy solution would be for me to move out into my own apartment. My godmother, who had lived in Australia for fifteen years, wanted to help me and was in fact obliged as godmother to assist. She arranged for me to rent the empty apartment she owned not far from her house. She also lived in Colmaggiore. I expected my aunt to be relieved at the idea, but instead she was upset: ‘What! Are

you mad? What will they say in the village? That we kicked you out?’ My grandmother was against my living alone and explained, bluntly, that only puttane (whores) lived alone. The only morally respectable place in which I could live was a constituted household. There was another factor that made it impossible for me to conduct my fieldwork in Tarzo. This was my inability to obtain a temporary residence permit. I was in conflict with the municipal officers over my residency and citizenship rights. Before I left Australia, 1 had been told by my Italian travel agent in Perth that I did not require a student visa as I was entitled to dual citizenship. I was directed to apply for Italian citizenship in the comune of my father’s birth. In Tarzo, however, | was

told that, due to an interim ruling covering certain birth dates, I was

not entitled to dual citizenship and, as I had no visa, would have to

leave Italy every three months to get my passport stamped. The head clerk in the comune was particularly obstructive, apparently due to old family rivalries. On my first visit to the public records office, a large open room, always full of people, where discussing one’s affairs in private is impossible, he virtually jeered: ‘So you’ve come to discover

America, have you?’, and, ‘Why did your father ever migrate if you

want to become an Italian citizen?’ These two caustic comments, which upset me greatly at first, were a clue to one of the many ways migrants are perceived when they return to visit. Northern Italy is now considered by its inhabitants as the ‘America’ migrants originally set out to discover. The problems I experienced over my residency rights were yet another challenge to my right to belong, not to my relatives’ household, but to a community. Not surprisingly, the bureaucratic battles and family foibles added to my notoriety in the town. It seems I was well known in the town even before I arrived. On my second day in Tarzo I visited the bank to open an account. The foreign affairs clerk invited me to speak with him. He had heard about me and, after a brief discussion about my educational qualifications, he told me about a job at the English school in Vittorio Veneto, the major

urban centre 10 kilometres away.?8 I expressed my interest and he

immediately rang the principal of the school to organise an interview. As English teacher, I became a professoressa and could potentially earn more money than any of my cousins who were all factory workers. Although I had a well-paid job, I was still not allowed to contribute to

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the household's expenses, which made me uncomfortable. The teaching job did not start till the following month. In the interim I moved to a neighbouring town for the grape-picking season—a job I had organised through the owner of the vineyard, a returned migrant whom I had met at my parents’ home on his visit to Perth the year before. During the long, exhausting days of grape-picking (a job that was much less romantic than I had imagined), I came to the decision that once the harvest had finished and my teaching job began, I would move to my godmother'’s apartment against my relatives’ wishes. | felt it was essential to have more autonomy to work and to pay my own way. During those first three months in Tarzo, I visited my father’s sister regularly and we became close friends. My father’s sister lived in Corbanese, another frazione of Tarzo. She invited me to stay in the summer kitchen on the ground floor of her house, which would give me more freedom to come and go, to cook for myself and so on. Modern houses in this part of Italy are double-storey villas with bedrooms and living areas upstairs and a taverna and garage downstairs. While this would have been a good compromise, I knew that if I accepted my aunt's offer it would cause friction between her household and my uncle’s, and my uncle would have lost face. The day before I was due to move to my godmother’ apartment, my uncle's wife offered me the use of her downstairs taverna, thus confirming my suspicions. The next day, my father’ sister arrived, unannounced, and offered

to drive me to my godmother’ apartment. I interpreted her offer as a sign of her support. So I accepted, cancelling my former arrangements

with my godmother. Once I was in her car, however, my aunt did not

transport me to my godmother’, but took me to her own house. At this point, I realised that if I insisted on moving to the apartment I would lose the support of my father’s sister and lose face with my father’s whole family. I lived in my aunt's summer kitchen for the rest of the winter. My uncle accused my aunt of abducting me and would not speak to her. Months passed before he visited his sisters house again. By this stage I was sure I was the world’s worst anthropologist and, given my inability to find appropriate lodgings, wondered how | would ever manage in a new fieldwork site. Much later I came to understand that accommodation is one of the most explosive issues many migrants face on their visits home—those who can afford it actually rent apartments in order to avoid staying with kin. As one migrant explained: ‘We love to visit our relatives but we can’t stand living with each other. It’s like fish in the fridge: if you keep it too long, it begins to smell’. I had spent three months in Italy and had yet to find a suitable fieldwork site. 1 decided to stay in the province of Treviso for many

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reasons. I was having difficulty learning the local dialect even though I had some familiarity with it. It would have been still more difficult in another province where the dialect would have been totally foreign to me. Besides, I did not want to walk out on my father’s extended family entirely. They were a source of support and security. In addition,

because I was the child of a migrant from Treviso, and because I wanted

to move to another town in Treviso where I could employ my insider status to gain access to informants and information, I needed to be on reasonably good terms with my kin. If people discovered I was not on good terms with kin, I feared, my insider status and reputation as a moral person would be discredited. I eventually decided on a new fieldwork site through the help of the Associazione Trevisani nel Mondo (ATM, Association for Trevisani throughout the World) and Don Carlo, one of its principal co-ordinators. Don Carlo listened with interest to my research proposal and with understanding to my problems in Tarzo. He suggested | consider the town of San Fior, some 20 kilometres from Tarzo. Don Carlo claimed

that many San Fiorese had migrated to Perth. I recalled that the San Fiorese held their own bocce (bowling) tournament annually at Laguna. Although I could easily obtain the names and addresses of the San

Fiorese relatives of the Laguna members I knew in Perth, I decided not

to ‘enter’ San Fior through any of them because they might feel responsible for my moral well-being as my father’s relatives had. Don Carlo gave me the telephone number of an ATM journalist who had contacts in San Fior. The journalist put me in contact with Roberto, the brother of San Fior’s mayor. When I rang Roberto he was most enthusiastic about my proposed research and invited me to come over the following evening. Roberto and his family were to become good friends and mainstays for the rest of my time in Italy. Roberto was a widower. He lived with his two daughters, Stefania and Lisa, and was well known and respected in the town. Robertos mother was a member of the Santolo family. Five of her brothers had migrated to Australia in the 1920s and had begun what is called the ‘cluster migration’ from San Fior to Perth. Roberto organised three interviews for me, one with his brother the mayor, one with the priest, and one with the town clerk in the public records office (I was still having trouble with my residency permit). Roberto took me to meet Clare Zamin, who he described as ‘the other

person from Perth living in San Fior’ (Roberto is Clare's mother’s cousin). Roberto and his daughters, who were about my age, became my main avenue into town life. I spent the winter commuting to San Fior during the day and teaching English during the evening in Vittorio Veneto. I thought it

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would be best to live in the town but I had to plan my move carefully because I did not want to ruin the ties I had established with the aunt with whom I was living. I spent my time interviewing visitors who came to San Fior from Australia and meeting people in San Fior who had relatives in Perth. I could not conduct interviews with the people who had relatives in Perth because my command of the dialect was still poor. I also frequented the friendship group to which Roberto’ daughters belonged and got to know some of the young people in the town and, through them, their families. I would sometimes stay with

Roberto’ family on weekends. I concentrated on learning the dialect and I taught English to supplement my scholarship. Moving into my aunt’s house meant I fell under her and her husband’ jurisdiction. Despite the increased freedom of living in the summer kitchen, I was still assigned household tasks. My aunt was the only able-bodied woman in a household of five men and an ailing mother-in-law and so was extremely busy with housework. My uncle was an ambulatory fruit vendor and since one of his sons had left for military service, | was often asked to accompany him on his weekly run into the mountains. The only way I could move from Tarzo to San Fior without losing face and without causing my aunt to lose face was to find a suitable household in which to live. A suitable household meant one of which my relatives would approve and, therefore, one that would provide guardianship. It also had to be a household in which I would have enough freedom to carry out my fieldwork without jeopardising my reputation or the reputation of the household. The many people who knew me in San Fior helped me search for somewhere to live. The problem was that in small towns like San Fior and Tarzo, people only leave their parental home to get married or to go to university. There was no university anywhere near San Fior, so

there was no college accommodation. The only renters were young single male labourers and obviously 1 could not share a household with any of them. I was offered three different live-in, babysitting jobs but I knew these would leave me little time to conduct fieldwork. Had I been male, the priest would have given me a room in his huge house but, as he explained, I could not live in his house due to le chiacchiere (gossip). There was a widow who wanted a boarder but she had small

children and really needed a live-in nanny. Another widow lived alone and would have liked my company, but the mayor's wife said she was ‘too eccentric’, a hint that the widow would not be an appropriate guardian. One month into my search for lodgings I wondered if I would have to resort to living in Conegliano, the nearest urban centre, 6 kilometres away. I dropped in on Grazia, who had extended an open invitation to

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me to visit her whenever I felt like some ‘real tea’. Tea in Italy is generally unpopular and the available brands are, according to Grazia, not nearly as good as the tea she receives from relatives in Australia. I had met this 86-year-old woman through her relatives, who live in Perth, when they were in San Fior on a visit. I knew her grandson from school and her son and daughter-in-law were members of Laguna.

When

she heard

my

car arrive, Grazia

came

out to investigate.

She

greeted me with the only four English words she knew: ‘Hello beautiful, cuppa tea?’ Of course, by this stage everyone knew I was searching for accommodation in the town. In the best standard Italian she could muster, Grazia asked if I would like to share her humble home. This

was a generous offer which I immediately accepted. That weekend I took up residence with one of the most well-known women in the

town, only a kilometre from the town centre.

Grazia had visited Perth three times. She was the oldest living person in San Fior who had relatives in Perth. She knew all about San Fior and everyone in it and proved to be a willing informant. Grazia was also very well respected in the town and was thus a perfect guardian. She was profoundly aware of the tensions between households and regularly invited my aunt to visit us. Alongside Grazia I was sure to be accepted and welcomed and she often accompanied me on initial visits to people’s houses. I suspect no one ever suggested her place to me because of her age and the state of her house, which had no heating

except for a small wood stove in the kitchen, and very little hot water. Grazia was also self-reliant, resisting any attempts by her family to make her move out of her house. She referred to me as her ‘adopted australiana grandchild’, and treated me as she hoped others treated her migrant son, doing far more household chores for me than I ever did for her. Grazia told me she knew what it was like to be in a foreign

country and always made me feel very welcome. She was grateful for

my company and charged me a modest rent. The freedom and support Grazia gave me made bearable the fact that I was living in a tiny, cold room and bathing in a bucket. I moved into Grazia’s house on the weekend of the town’s annual festa, which is held on the first Sunday in October. I left exactly twelve months later. 1 was fortunate in that my parents and two siblings decided to visit me for Christmas just two months after I moved to San Fior. Young people who visit San Fior for an extended period of time are invariably visited by their parents. My parents had, of course, told their friends and acquaintances at Laguna that I was now living in San Fior. They arrived with letters and gifts to deliver to relatives of the San Fiorese living in Perth. I discovered how common it was for migrants who travel to Italy on a visit to call on the families of other

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migrants, usually with mail to deliver. The meeting provides an important exchange of information on how people are faring in both places.

My parents’ visit was a bonus for my fieldwork because I accompa-

nied them on their ‘postal run’ and so met many families of migrants in Perth. I later interviewed members of these families and, through

them, met other individuals with family members in Perth. In general,

I was welcomed as if I were a distant relative. This is not uncommon. The linguist John Kinder, who conducted a study on Italians in New Zealand, told me about his experience of visiting the relatives of his informants in Treviso. During one such visit, the father of two New Zealand migrants died. One son was able to return for the funeral but the other could not. John was asked to be a pall-bearer, to stand in for the absent son: ‘Even though I have red hair and am not Italian, because I came from New Zealand and knew the son, they wanted me’.

1 also interviewed every individual who had been to Perth, whether

on a visit or through migration. These individuals were inclined to seek me out to ask me questions about Perth and the people they knew there. Any visitor from Australia was automatically sent to meet me and I became well acquainted with them and their relatives. Obser-

ving and participating in the interaction between visiting Australians

and their relatives developed naturally. Although no one I approached ever declined to be interviewed, the type of responses | got from informants varied from general details, such as dates of departure and visits, to very personal accounts of family history. The interviews I conducted with people I had grown to know were generally more personal. If I did not know a person I always arranged for an introduction. I was sometimes referred to as ‘the americana living with Grazia’. In this context ‘America’ refers to the distant places to which

migrants travelled, and includes Canada,

the United States, Latin America and Australia. Because of the social networks,

everyone

I interviewed,

whether

in Perth or in San Fior,

knew of me before 1 approached them. The only exceptions were migrants in Queensland. | established contact with them through a well-known San Fiorese migrant in Perth and consequently I was very well received. The ease with which I obtained interviews was partly due to the introductions I enjoyed from respectable people in the town including Grazia, Roberto and the mayor. I believe, however, that the main reason

for my good reception was due to my status as the child of an emigrant from a neighbouring town. Soon after my arrival in San Fior, a woman 1 barely knew

introduced

me, with genuine

affection, to her friend,

claiming me as uno dei nostri—one of our own. Living in the town also

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meant that I became an insider, promoting me from visitor to resident. My family’s visit to San Fior meant that townspeople could place me as a respectable daughter, though living with Grazia had already quashed any speculation to the contrary. Finally, 1 developed my own friendships, initially through Roberto and his family and my English students, and later simply by living in the town. I returned to Perth in October 1989 and spent the next month delivering letters and good wishes from people in San Fior to their relatives. My fieldwork notes at this stage contained the San Fior inhabitants’ experiences of migration. In order to make sense of return visits,

I needed

to include

the

experiences

of the

San

Fiorese

in

Australia. 1 began by interviewing the families of every visitor I had met in San Fior (hence my interviews with people in New South Wales

and Queensland). I then interviewed those families from San Fior who

were members of Laguna. In turn, these informants directed me to other San Fiorese in Perth and interstate. I was directed to individuals who ‘never visit’ and individuals who ‘live more there than here’. Where possible, I conducted separate interviews with the parents and at least one child of each family. In those families where the Australian-born

children were married with their own families, | interviewed the third

generation children as well. I found that the greatest advantage of being an insider-anthropologist was the relative ease with which I could gain access to people and information. Being an insider means more than sharing the same ethnic identity with the people being studied. Di Leonardo encountered difficulties in accessing informants despite belonging to the same ethnic group. She comments: My assumptions about the need for sponsorship in order to do family research were borne out repeatedly over the course of my fieldwork. I attempted many times to contact individuals through others with whom I was barely acquainted: each time it was a dismal failure . . . Several times people became upset about the personal character of my questions (‘Do you have brothers and sisters?’) at the beginning

of an interview.2?

In my case, I contacted potential informants in Perth with greetings

from their relatives in San Fior. Consequently, I was nearly always met

with great excitement. There was one person who declined to be interviewed. Although happy to hear my accounts of his relatives over the phone, Mr Gardin directed me to interview his daughter, Chiara. I

understood immediately when I discovered later that Mr Gardin had never been able to afford a return visit, but had helped finance Chiara’s visit in 1981.

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1 began my research in both Italy and Australia through my own and my family’s social networks. The inhabitants of San Fior did not generally acknowledge my presence in the town as an anthropological fieldworker. Some identified me as an English teacher because 1 conducted evening classes. Because it was common for children of migrants to visit their relatives in San Fior, I was identified with this

category of visitors. Locals considered it natural and commendable that I should be interested in the relationship between their town and my place of birth. It was actually a help that I wasn’t identified as an anthropologist by everyone I met. As the child of a migrant, people were not suspicious of me, as they are of foreigners in general, and were invariably helpful. I had even less difficulty finding informants in Australia than in San Fior. In San Fior I was the child of a migrant, while in Australia my status more closely approximates that of di Leonardo’s, when she was treated as ‘a privileged successful adult daughter’. Unlike her informants, who she describes as a ‘spectrum of families representing a broad cross-section of the general Italian American population in both a historical and a contemporary sense’,>° my informants in Perth were individuals who knew each other because they had emigrated, or married emigrants, from the same town. While di Leonardo found what she calls ‘marginalised’ informants, | was welcomed by potential informants: some of the people I contacted told me they had been expecting me to call. One woman I had never met exclaimed, when I introduced myself over the phone: ‘At last it’s my turn’. Just as in San Fior, my informants formed a closed network through which I became known to people even before I had met them. Those who knew me or my parents well spoke to me in a way which included me as one of them—the implication was always ‘you know about these things’. I was ‘like’ their children and many times I heard tell of ‘things’ my informants would have loved to share with their children. My experiences during my ‘return visit’ to my father’s home town, and the problems I encountered there, are representative of the experiences of other migrants who visit ‘home’. My father’s family adopted an ambivalent position in relation to me and that ambivalence is indicative of the conflicting discourses of migration held by migrants and nonmigrants. The central issue was my incorporation into the family households, which for the returned migrant is always problematic. In Tarzo, family association proved to be restrictive. In San Fior, the fact that I was the child of a migrant from a neighbouring town meant that I was accepted as ‘one of our own’, yet my incorporation into a household there was less fraught. The difference, obviously, is between

being kin and not being kin. A distinction must be made between the

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particular responsibilities that are part of specific kin relations, such as the ones I encountered in Tarzo, and the collective responsibilities that fall on people when their relationship to the person returning is less particular, as was my experience in San Fior. At the heart of the matter are the problematic reciprocal relationships which connect migrants in Australia with their townspeople and kin in Italy. The way migrants are incorporated into town life is largely dependent on the extent to which they are particularistically defined and connected to the people with whom they interact. In San Fior, I was

connected to people in a relatively remote way, as the child of an Italian migrant who had migrated from that province to Australia. I shared an ethnic bond with the San Fiorese that was heightened by the fact that many San Fiorese live in Australia. Grazia treated me with kindness, just as she hoped Australians would treat her son. My connection to people in Tarzo, however, was not only as a co-ethnic

but as kin. These family ties locked me into a set of relationships that I did not have in San Fior. My age, gender and marital status further defined the specific relationship 1 had with my kin. Above all, my kinship status placed me within the web of reciprocity that comprises the family household. For Italians, the establishment of one’s own household at marriage traditionally marked the beginning of adulthood.*! This is referred to in Italian as sistemazione. A young couple who

achieve sistemazione

become the padroni (owner-bosses) of their own household and so are

no longer sotto their parents or any other member of their former household. The preference for establishing one’s own household rather than

living in an extended household setting is therefore understandable.

Living in one’s own abode means a degree of independence. The moral obligations of family members to each other is evident in the flexibility of households. Members of the same extended family are generally always welcomed into the homes of their relatives. The nature of the chain migration process reflects the obligations of family as many migrants initially reside with relatives upon arrival in the new land. Migrants who return to visit their home towns are accepted into the homes of their relatives. The trust with which parents allow, even

encourage (and in some cases, force), their children to visit their relatives in the ‘home country’ is testimony to the strong moral

obligations family members have to each other. Householders, including temporary visitors, are sotto the household padroni and in this way householders share an interdependent moral identity. In Tarzo, I was accepted into the households of my kin and in

return was expected to contribute to their functioning, not by paying

my way, but by performing the tasks expected of single adult women.

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive

41

Conrad Arensberg and Solon Kimball in their study, Family and Community in Ireland, define family relationships as composed of ‘the reciprocities of act, sentiment, and obligation’. Like the family farmsteads in County Clare that they describe, the households in rural Treviso (including Tarzo and San Fior) functioned not only as economic units but as social systems, ‘in which economic effort, individual and

cooperative, is controlled by the social forces operative within the family’. The household represents ‘a total constellation of behavior

that incorporates the extended family.

It is not uncommon in Tarzo and San Fior for unmarried workers living at home to hand over their earnings to their parents. At marriage, the child is returned his/her contribution, and, depending on the wealth of the family, usually receives much more. Ideally, males are provided

with a house, ‘a sistemazione’, and females with cash. The child will

thus be ‘set up’ by the household and until then is expected to work for the household. Arensberg and Kimball also describe the practice of ‘lending’ kin to help out those relatives in need. Although my kin would not accept payment for my board because of their obligations to provide for me, I was expected to contribute to the household in other

ways. In my aunt’s house in Corbanese, I filled the place of my cousin while he was away doing his military service. In Tarzo, at my uncle’, I took on the duties formerly performed by my cousin, who had recently married. It was because of these mutual obligations that I was given licence to leave my parents’ home in Perth. Similarly, Rudolph Bell, in his study of four southern Italian towns, notes that ‘a sister who in 1972 emigrated from Rogliano to work in a German factory joined her brother there; she was allowed to go only because she thereby remained

under the aegis of la famiglia’.*>

Migration is often intimately connected to marriage and sistemazione. To be able to achieve sistemazione an individual needs capital or at least a steady income. The desire for sistemazione is recognised as the most common incentive for migration. Historically, migration was an opportunity to make enough money to ‘set oneself up’ with house and family when the means to do so were not available at home. Migrating was therefore a way of attaining independence. Single men would return from abroad with enough money to set themselves up without the help of their parents. Traditionally, the area around San Fior and Tarzo has been predominantly characterised by peasant farming communities. As was common in similar rural settings throughout Europe, limits on land fragmentation and farming viability meant that traditionally only one son would inherit his father’s land. If the family could afford it, the children who

did not get their father’s land received money which they used to marry

42

Visits Home

into someone else's land. Passages abroad were options used when there was no land or money. In this way, the sons and daughters who could not be accommodated at home had to migrate. Arensberg and Kimbal define these as the children who ‘must travel’.** Up until the middle of the nineteenth century, people in peasant-worker communities like San Fior and Tarzo earned their livelihood predominantly through subsistence agriculture, supplemented where possible by paid labour.*? For the majority, this was a meagre and difficult existence, exacerbated by the two world wars, the second of which ravaged the region. Ironically, many had to migrate in order to be able to make enough capital to enable them eventually to set themselves up in their natal town. Migration was thus a necessary dispersal to enable the continuity of cultural traditions at home. In this way migrancy formed a necessary part of the social system of the family; it was not a means of breaking up the family, but rather a way of keeping it together. Despite migration, the family remained intact. Indeed, migrant children continued to help the family by providing passages to kin who ‘must travel’. Although the children who must travel are still maintained within family ties of reciprocity, their relationship to the family is necessarily changed because their status changes. The migrant is no longer sotto the family household. Arensberg and Kimball note that the break-up of the family at the transfer of land changes the relation between the dispersed children and their parents: Control of expenditure, in fact all vestiges of the strict parental control, is perforce destroyed ... Consequently they no longer demand the services of their children as before. Thus the authors saw several old couples doing their best to learn how much a returned emigrant had earned but, because of the change in position, not daring to ask outright. If the son had remained on the farm, they would not have hesitated to demand a strict accounting. Likewise, in such important matters as marriage, over which the parents would have had great authority as long as the son or daughter remained at home, the parents lose their control. More than one old couple remarked, on hearing from a

distant exiled son of his marriage, that

they wished him well but that he must please himself now that he

was on his own.%®

The migrant is, at the same time, contained within the reciprocal bonds of the family and independent of them. The ambiguity of the migrant’s position as independent family member comes to the fore if he or she returns to settle in the home town. Arensberg and Kimball describe the few cases of persons who return to their native communities from abroad showing how the returned migrant finds readjustment

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive

43

extremely difficult: ‘The “returned Yank”, if he has been long away, is declassed and to an extent deracinated. This is true of all his behavior,

through all his relations with those from whom he went. The process of reabsorbing him is slow and painful’.>” The migrants who repatriated to San Fior experienced a similar dislocation and their difficulties of settling back into town life are mirrored somewhat in the Australian migrants’ visit experiences. Like the repatriate, the migrant who comes home to visit has a difficult time readjusting. Reciprocal relationships between kin are fraught with tensions and these are exacerbated by the experience of migration because, inevitably, relatives are divided into those who left

and those who stayed behind. Those who stayed have always been sotto the family and, for their pains, have reaped certain benefits. It is those who stayed, for example, who tend to inherit the bulk of the family’s fortunes. Those who left are contained within the family network of reciprocity. However, all their relations with kin are conditioned by a fractious family history. Tensions between those who left and those who remained often centred around who was defined as in the position of control or governance and who was sotto. In Tarzo and San Fior, it was evident that the act of migrating meant the migrant gained increased independence from the constraints of family, but, at the same time, the migrant for-

feited his or her right to command kin in Italy. This lack of control was most evident in the way inheritance was divided. The migrant often felt obliged to hand over his or her inheritance to siblings. At the same time, relatives in Italy were obliged to welcome their migrant kin. This obligatory welcome was, however, often undermined by tensions. The jealousies and rivalries underpinning the problematic reciprocal relations usually meant that visiting kin were placed in an ambiguous position. The key tensions concerned ethnic and community identity, attachment to place and cultural continuity. These tensions come to the fore when the migrant visits home.

2

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

Despite the difficulties associated with ‘going back’, the vast majority of migrants from San Fior and the surrounding area make regular visits home. These visits were rare in the early years (before and immediately after World War II) but increased in frequency in the 1980s and 1990s, such that many people now visit every two or three years. The question, ‘why do you visit?’, was invariably met with astonishment by these migrants, as if the answer were obvious. They commonly replied, simply: @ sempre il mio paese (‘it will always be my town’, or, ‘it is still my town’). On the one hand, the transnational connections, represented by frequent visiting, support the idea that geography is in a sense dead.! On the other, the fractious nature of these connections indicates

that while geography might be ignored, the diverse experiences of the migrant and the non-migrant mean that they make sense of migration in very different ways. This diversity of experience results in competing and contrasting migration discourses which meet awkwardly during the return visit. ‘Going back’ ultimately leads to some kind of reception, or the conspicuous lack of one. The migrant visitors grapple with myriad identities attributed to them by their non-migrant hosts. They are at once the prodigal child, the returned sibling, the americano (big shot),

the poor one who had to leave and the fortune-seeker who left for a

better life. For the first generation migrants, the visit home often represents a kind of spiritual renewal, while for the second and

subsequent generations it is frequently experienced as a rite of passage

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

45

involving a transformation in identity. For the non-migrant, the visit home is about incorporating the familiar stranger, the unknown sibling, into hometown life. For those in Italy who aren’t old enough to remember the migration exodus, these visiting relatives are often experienced as little more than a curiosity. My fieldwork diaries are filled with complaints from second generation visitors who find their cousins’ scant regard for them very upsetting. Many are embarrassed for their parents, whose obvious excitement at meeting childhood friends is not reciprocated. I came to understand something about these receptions and the competing discourses that characterise them while on the road myself, searching for signs of connections between place and identity both in Australia and in Italy. Some of these signs are etched into the landscapes as public monuments, private.

others are personal mementoes,

treasured in

As historian Ken Inglis comments, ‘Even in an age of nearly universal literacy the public monument was conceived as a teacher, a transmitter of messages to the young’.* Monuments are gifts people give to themselves to honour and acclaim their deeds. They are also symbols of identity and history, and, in this respect, they are informative artefacts. During nationalist wars it is not uncommon for attacks to be made on the enemy’s public monuments in an attempt to destroy a people's history and identity. Monuments and statues are popular furnishings in Italian households.

For instance, it is common

to find

twin white lions guarding the entrances to Italian homes both in Italy and abroad. These statuettes are clear markers of ethnicity in the Australian suburban landscape—one that Italians and non-ltalians alike recognise. These icons, much like other stereotypes of italianita, including the ‘big’ Italian wedding, hotted-up cars and fluffy dice, have become the ‘butt of much humour amongst Italians themselves’.3 One Italo-Australian friend delighted in telling me the joke: ‘What do lions have outside their houses?’ Answer: ‘Statues of little Italian men’. Not

all Italians decorate

their abodes

with

statues.

However,

the

vast majority of Italian towns, no matter how small, do furnish their public places with monuments. The most common and ubiquitous are war memorials, comprised of plaques that list the local soldiers who failed to return. Much less common are public monuments and

mementoes to migration. In recent years, a few have begun to appear

in northern Italian towns. Anecdotal evidence suggests that there are in fact none in Sicily—a region that saw many of its people migrate abroad, including to Australia. As one Sicilian anthropologist explained, ‘we do not commemorate that of which we are not proud’.* The massive exodus from the island in the middle of the twentieth century is

46

Visits Home

perhaps thought of as a painful and debilitating haemorrhage. With time, I came to understand that the migration monuments

I encoun-

tered and their absence elsewhere told very interesting tales about migrant identities and migration histories.

Expected Homecomings: symbols of return It was not until late in my first year in Tarzo, when my godparents, themselves returned emigrants, began to prepare for it, that I learnt about the festa dell’emigrante (the emigrant’s festival). The festa is celebrated annually in the frazione of Fratta, neighbouring Colmaggiore. It is held in a small park that contains a statue dedicated to the emigrants. I had not noticed the statue on my many walks through the town because the park is hidden from view, tucked behind some

buildings off the main road. I was surprised that it had taken me so

long to find out about the statue. Despite the fact that I had quizzed virtually everyone in the town about migration, no one had thought to mention it to me. Although the statue represented a ‘homecoming’, it seemed to be irrelevant to mine. I found this very confusing—a statue for the emigrant that is irrelevant to (at least some) emigrants? Was the statue meant only for people who had actually been born in Tarzo? 1 began to realise that there were different ‘types’ of emigrants. The statue in Tarzo is, at one level, pertinent to all migrants because it represents the expectation of the migrants’ homecoming. It is, however, specifically meant for one ‘type’ of migrant—the seasonal worker— who returns annually. There is a long history of seasonal migration in the region of the Veneto.° Along with my father, I had been categorised as a ‘distant’ migrant—one who does not return seasonally, but who is

nevertheless expected to visit. The monument in Fratta was erected in 1985, but the festa has been celebrated since 1975. The statue's construction was funded by the Tarzo Pro Loco (a promotion committee—essentially a group of inhabitants who organise the local feste), and the main financial contributor was a local bank.® The festa is attended by townspeople and those emigrants and their families who are in town at the time. It is held in August to coincide with the nationwide Ferragosto (August holiday), when schools and businesses close for the summer vacation, thus

making it easier for people to attend. In 1990, the statue was moved to a more prominent location overlooking the lakes at the edge of the town, evidence that the festa had grown in importance. The statue is a bronze representation of a young man, arms outstretched, bending to greet a little girl who is running, also with arms outstretched, to meet him. The statue lends itself to a number of read-

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

47

ings, but most people explain that the returning emigrant is a young father greeting his daughter. This interpretation would suggest that the emigrant’s family is living in Italy and that the father is working abroad seasonally, returning home at special times of the year. The youthfulness of the child represented and the fact that she lives in Italy imply that the migrant is working abroad to make enough money to establish his family with a financially secure future in Italy. This accords with the importance of sistemazione—the business of establishing oneself with house and family—the most common incentive for migration. By 1985 when the statue was erected, seasonal migration, particularly to Germany (where many emigrants from the Veneto have ice-cream parlours or gelaterie), was quite common, while permanent out-migration had all but ceased. On the increase, however, was the

incidence of return visits by emigrants who had settled abroad in North America and Australia. Of course, these visitors are not usually young and neither are the family members who rush to greet them. The statue could conceivably be a monument to the past, a shrine erected in memory of the heart-breaking sacrifices offered up by men in the prime of their lives, in order to bring money and wealth into the town. The implication

of the

statue

again,

however,

is the

same;

the

image

immortalised is the hope-filled justification for such sacrifice: the homecoming or nostos. The monument is titled simply I’Incontro (the encounter), a word that captures the tensions and apprehensions of the visit experience. In line with Inglis’ interpretation of the function of monuments as transmitters of messages to the young, the moral of the statue is clearly the obligation to return and to be received. Seasonal migrants, especially in the past, tended to come home over the Christmas and New Year period. Today, with ease of transport and increased wealth, it is not uncommon for people to travel from the neighbouring European countries for a few days’ holiday. Most seasonal migrants from Tarzo work in France, Switzerland and Belgium. The majority of these migrants are settled in these countries with stable jobs. They are, however, still listed in the shire council records as ‘seasonal migrants’. The fact that they are so close to home compared to other migrants and the fact that they visit home regularly means that they are very much like seasonal workers. The comune probably has a vested interest in perpetuating the ‘seasonality’ of migrants: it still keeps the migrant as a ratepayer and also avoids a loss of resident numbers. The more citizens the comune governs, the more important it is. The festa is conducted over two weekends, with food and gamestalls open during the day, and music and dancing in the evenings. It is a ritualised way of reincorporating the emigrant into the home town. Traditional foods are eaten and local wines are tasted. Offering food is

48

Visits Home

a symbol of hospitality always bestowed upon a guest; sharing traditional food is a way of reclaiming a common past. To commemorate this annual event, a medallion is presented to the emigrants in attendance. The medallions bear images of the environs of Tarzo—of historic buildings and courtyards—as well as the name of the festa and the year. The medallions represent attachment to place, known in Italian as campanilismo. They are a tangible reminder to the emigrants that they belong to their natal town and that every year their homecoming is awaited and celebrated. Implicit in the meanings of the festa is that one day their homecoming will be permanent. The medallions and the images they bear have in many ways been ‘won’ (in the sense of earned) by the emigrants, because migration is perceived as a sacrifice carried out in the interests of advancing the individual in the home town. The medallions are a portable representation of the reason for migration—to enable a sistemazione—which is symbolised by the historic sites in the town. The sites themselves imply a longstanding association with place. The medallion is a symbol of homeland. The festa celebrates nostos, the homecoming. It creates a distinction between seasonal emigrants, who can easily return annually, and permanent emigrants who cannot. Even those seasonal migrants who are unable to participate in the festa still manage to receive a medallion because their relatives living in town invariably attend. In this sense, the festa is as much for the relatives of seasonal emigrants as it is for the emigrants themselves. The festa dell’emigrante reveals the townspeople's interpretation of migration. That the townspeople have their own discourse on migration, separate from that of the migrants themselves, is evident in the fact that repatriated migrants in Tarzo organise their own celebration, which is quite distinct from the festa. There is an annual dinner for repatriated migrants that is open to all

ATM members, and has been held in Tarzo every year since 1973. The

ATM is a provincial organisation with branches all over the world, hence its name, Associazione Trevisani del Mondo (Association for Trevisani throughout the World). Its membership is open to all migrants

from Treviso—seasonal, repatriated, and those permanently settled

abroad. A number of provinces in Italy boast similar organisations.

These ATM dinners are attended mainly by local repatriates. At each dinner a card is presented to those in attendance, the cover of which bears the words, La Comunita di Tarzo all’Emigrante (from the Tarzo community to the emigrants). The meal and card are gifts of recognition, supposedly from the Tarzo community at large, but they are organised by those ‘consociates’ who share a common experience of

migration.’

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

49

Although it is the keenly awaited goal of nearly every migrant, settling back into hometown life is never easy. Women in particular experience a loss of autonomy and young and old alike bemoan the lack of privacy. As one man explained: ‘You can’t even think a thought without the whole town knowing what it is!’ Through their meetings, these ex-migrants are acknowledging their special experience of return migration, which sets them apart from other townspeople and other ‘types’ of migrants. Under the auspices of the ATM, they meet in mutual support. Visiting emigrants (as opposed to seasonal migrants) are also sought out and invited to attend the ATM dinners. My father attended in 1984. Inside the card he received was a medallion and the following poem: Amid the soft velvet of grass by Gina Piccin Dugo (my translation) To return

to breathe in again your miracle of beauty oh Italy.

And to see again the outline of your alps and your Appennines where the pine trees and the fir trees —amid the soft velvet of grass and the deep blue of the skies— weave a transparent lace. To return to your contorted olive trees,

to the gold of the ginestre [a flower], to the reddish vines, to your plains where bread, oil and the vines

hold eternal promises. To return.

To return to your rivers pulsating like veins, to towers on rises

where cypresses in a row watch over the damp stillness of dew. To sweep over your glimmering sea

like and Oh You

pure tears of crystal to drink up the flowing light of the sun. Italy who call to me from far away silences

when at night

in the bitter agony of distance

50

Visits Home

the heart closes against the absurdity of everyday routines. And cries on the agonising Calvary of waiting.

The medallion is inscribed with the date of the meeting and an image of the church in Tarzo with a swallow flying overhead. Unlike the festa dell’emigrante medallions, which depict the annual sites of return of the seasonal migrants, the ATM medallion shows the church,

which is a central symbol of place throughout Italy. The swallow is depicted on the medallion because this bird returns to make its nest in

the same location each year. Its image not only reinforces the sense of attachment to place but also makes clear the expectation of return. Bearing its recipient's name, the medallion becomes a token won by emigrants who have ventured afar and made fortunes that they then brought back to their natal land. Lindsay Thompson, in her study of return migration from Australia to Italy, also compares the repatriated Celanese to swallows: The return to Italy of these former emigrants generally seemed to have been predetermined, almost like that of the swallows which every summer return to Celano to nest under the roofs and in the walls. Like the swallows, these emigrants had travelled along migratory routes established by relatives and paesani, routes which led to Australia and back to Italy again.®

The seasonal migrants and the repatriates each have a similar experience of homecoming. The repatriates are resettled in Italy, while the seasonal workers and European migrants return with such regularity that, even if established abroad, they are still considered Italian

residents. In this way, they are differentiated from the emigrants living outside Europe. These permanent migrants are potential homecomers and the frequency of their return visits has increased significantly in the last decade. That their failure to return is seen as an unfortunate state of affairs by townspeople is evident in the manner in which they are remembered via portable mementoes that keep them in touch with hometown life. Photos,

memorial

cards? and

the bonboniere that mark

the special

occasions of the social and religious life of the town regularly travel across the oceans. My own cabinets are filled with the sugared almonds and Venetian glass or silver trinkets from the christenings, communions,

confirmations, weddings and anniversaries of all my relatives in Italy. These items form part of the general grammar of collected mementoes in Italian culture. They embody the ties that bind individuals and families

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

51

together and they demarcate the social fields that extend beyond geographical boundaries. There are also occasional mementoes that represent the communal ties of paese (home town) and paesani (townspeople). In 1976, the local bank sent a copy of a book published that year on the history of Tarzo, entitled Tarzo—Signor d’Antica Terra (Tarzo—Master of Ancient

Land),!° to every person born in the town, including those who had

permanently emigrated—evidence that the migrants continue to be valued customers (either through their accounts or remittance payments). Like the historic sites on the Fratta medallions, and the image of the church on the ATM

medallion, the history book demonstrates,

yet again, the attachment to place. My father’s copy arrived at his Australian home with a letter in Italian which read: Dear emigrant,

With the sending of this letter and attached volume of Tarzo— Master of Ancient Land, the [Rural and Artisan] Bank intends to be close to you in thought, remembering your hard work in a foreign land, and hopes that one day, possibly not too far away, you will be able to return to your people, to a land that is so dear to you, and that unfortunately was so ungenerous to you, having forced you to leave your dearest loved ones to obtain a more secure living elsewhere. I guarantee the hard work of our and your bank and credit society is trying in every way to better the local living conditions by increasing production activity to curb the need for our townspeople to leave their country and in order that many of you, once returned to your country, will be able to find a place in our community. With our warmest wishes to you and your family, Yours sincerely, [signature of bank manager]

PS. If any emigrant you know of has not received the volume, please excuse us since this is due to the lack of address. In any case, we will

be very grateful if you could ask for the book directly from the bank. Thank you for your kind help. In 1992, over fifteen years later, a video about Vittorio Veneto, the

closest urban centre to Tarzo, was produced and funded by another local bank. Like Tarzo’s history book, the video was sent to all residents as well as to all emigrants living abroad, with a letter which read:

52

Visits Home

Dear emigrant,

We send you this video which the bank ... has made available to send to the emigrants who in distant but friendly lands, have found work which their town of origin was unable to give them. We hope that this video may demonstrate that which Vittorio Veneto has achieved and at the same time we hope it shows you that we are close to you, Warmest regards and best wishes,

President, Vittoriese emigrants

The different messages in the letters accompanying the history and the video reflect the changing experiences of migration on the part of the townspeople. The bank manager expressed the town’s regret at obliging the migrants to leave, while the President representing the Vittoriese emigrants assured migrants they were always welcome. The various developments—economic, political and socio-cultural—during the intervening decades have profoundly influenced the nature of the relationship between the permanent overseas migrants and their native townspeople. The townspeople, as both letters make clear, have at all times felt a sense of remorse or guilt for not being able to provide for those who left. This is particularly true today of emigrants to Latin America, whose

migrations are thought to have resulted in relatively

less successful sistemazione due to the economic and political contexts of these countries. The festa dell’emigrante in Fratta, the ATM meeting, and the above letters are all examples of the trope of nostos, the homecoming. The non-migrants, the seasonal migrants and the repatriated migrants all make sense of migration from the point of view of the home town as the geographical and ideological centre to which the migrants are oriented, always planning to return. There are very few examples, however, of the counterpart to nostos—the departure. My almost chance discovery of the statue of the homecoming was in complete contrast to the experience of a group of visiting youth—the children of emigrants living abroad—in 1990. They were taken to visit a statue in the town of Magnacavallo in the province of Mantova, about 80 kilometres from Tarzo. These youth were on an ‘educational tour’, subsidised by the Associazione Lombardi Nel Mondo (ALM), which trans-

ported them ‘back to their origins’. The tour was the first one organised by the ALM for Australian youth. The previous year they had organised a tour for the children of Lombard emigrants in Brazil. All the Nel Mondo associations organise similar tours, which represent a growing interest by regional and provincial governments in

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

53

diaspora-born Italians. The late 1980s saw the beginning of such

initiatives, including conferences

and study

tours focused

on the

rediscovery of origins.'! An article in one of the Lombard region's Milan-based papers, II Giornale, dated 19 May 1990, reported on the third symposium (held in consecutive years) for Italo-Americans, which had the aim of ‘rebuilding the genealogies of US citizens of Italian origin so that they can rediscover the civilisation from which they came’. The symposium was targeted at, ‘those millions of second and third generation, by now perfectly settled in their countries abroad, who wish to rediscover their history’. A similar rhetoric has also been evident at the national level, a rhetoric which no longer uses the term migrant but, in a telling linguistic change, employs the term ‘Italians abroad’. For example, in his address to ‘Italian communities abroad’, the former president Oscar Luigi Scalfaro describes the emigration from Italy as an ‘uprooting’ and therefore imagines a ‘rediscovery’. He commends ‘Italians abroad’ for their prospects, ‘of an even better future’, achieved ‘with courage and sacrifices’, and thanks them for ‘the manner in which you have ... represented the dignity of our common Motherland’. Scalfaro then proceeds to identify two fundamental aspirations of ‘our overseas communities’. The first is ‘their right to participate in the social processes both in Italy and in the country of residence’. The second is worth quoting at length: There is also a mandatory task of human, political and cultural significance: that of re-establishing the ties with many generations of Italians and their descendants who have lost contact with Italy. I hope this stage, which one could call that of the uprooting, has already been surpassed, since I know that in different ways, and in different continents, a comforting rediscovery of Italy by the descendants of our migrants is already taking place. We will do all possible so that this rediscovery is confirmed and extended, for it is

the main path to the diffusion of our language and our rich culture.!?

Some migrants, sceptical of this newfound interest in the diasporaborn, argue that these initiatives are an attempt at increasing the flow of money into the homeland. Migrant remittances were a very important source of financial support in the past and contributed to the region's industrial ‘miracle’. Since the first generation are ageing, and remittances are no longer forthcoming, the tourist dollar in the form of visiting migrant descendants has become a market worth investing in. In more recent years, the Nel Mondo associations have begun to organise conferences in the host countries, thus actively pursuing the overseas Italians and developing transnational networks of trade, exchange and,

54

Visits Home

potentially, the migrant vote.!? These conferences attract tour groups

made up of ‘non-migrants’ from Italy who make the, until now, highly unusual visit to the diaspora. In 1999, the ATM held their conference in Perth and a group of thirty people resident in Treviso attended—the culmination of a brief tour which took them to other Australian capital cities.

The organised youth visits to Italy included a tour of the major cities and major tourist sites in the region. Following this, the participants were given time to visit their relatives. In this way, the visit for the second and subsequent generations is about both consociate and popular knowledge. An attempt at rediscovering ‘lost children’ is very clearly the aim of political leaders in Magnacavallo. While the statue in Tarzo was not pertinent to me as a second generation migrant, the statue in Magnacavallo was obviously considered relevant to the visiting youth by the ALM tour organisers. | wrote to the mayor of Magnacavallo for more information about the monument, and he very generously sent me newspaper clippings, photos and all the letters associated with the planning and construction of the monument. He recalled the tour in his covering letter: I remember well the visit of the young Italo-Australians who a year ago visited Magnacavallo to see the monument to the emigrated, and therefore your monument ... 1 remember the warmth between everyone and in particular their eyes which surveyed the monument, constructed and dedicated to all the emigrants in the world; I read in those

fascinated eyes, the interest,

the memories,

the desire to

know their roots, I saw their parents, their grandparents. They took many photos and I will never forget their joy.

The monument is composed of a scene in bas-relief in bronze set in a marble block 3 metres high.'* The portrait depicts the departure of a family group: a young mother with babe in arms, a young father and two small children. It is obvious from the expression on the bronze faces that no one is happy about the departure. The figures gaze downwards and although their load is light, their psychological burden is heavy. Their migration was a necessity, not a choice. Emigration at the turn of the century, predominantly to Brazil, virtually halved the local population. Rather than setting off to seek their fortunes, the bronze figures represent migrants who are escaping to survive. This departure scene offers a stark contrast to the joyful scene of return in Fratta, Tarzo.

The monument is situated in a small park dedicated to the emigrants on a street called Parco all’Emigrato. Beneath the bronze plaque are the words,

all’Emigrato.

While

the

statue

in Tarzo

is dedicated

to the

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

‘emigrante’ (the emigrant), the monument in the ‘emigrato’ (the emigrated). The semantic Reference to the emigrated specifically means who are living abroad. The word emigrant, on

seasonal, returned and permanent migrants.

55

Magnacavallo represents difference is significant. the permanent migrants the other hand, includes

The statue was constructed partly out of a sense of remorse, a kind

of survivor guilt, on behalf of those who stayed behind. The idea for the

monument was inspired by a comment in the book, Magnacavallo, o sia Comunita de’Boschi

(Magnacavallo,

that is the Forest

Community),

history book of the same genre as Tarzo—Signor d’Antica Terra. The

a

author, Elio Benatti, in the section on ‘the emigrations’, describes the

miseria (poverty) of the people, which, several times in the town’s history, ‘forced them to emigrate in search of fortune, or to escape the unbearable situation’.!>° Two waves of migration significantly reduced the population: one at the turn of the century, to Brazil, and the other, following World

War II, to the industrial zones of northern Lombardy and Piedmont. According to Benatti, ‘the emigrants braved the impact of unknown and distant lands, with different languages and customs, armed only with their courage, or with their desperate miseria, many with the hope

of one day returning to their town in better economic times’.!©

Despite these migrations, Benatti explains, the Italian descendants have never forgotten their patria (ancestral homeland). There is a sense of fraternity but also of guilt or remorse in his recommendation: Besides, we should not forget the many townspeople who emigrated, who were defeated by their lack of education, their poverty and adversity and who have dispersed over the world; it would be good, and perhaps only just, to erect in town a monument, a sign, a

memento to the emigrants of every epoch.!”

These words obviously struck a chord with many readers. They inspired the formation, in 1988, of an association called the ‘September 1990

Committee for the Emigrated’, which began organising the construction of a monument as Benatti had suggested. This image of the migrant as destitute, without choice and exiled from the homeland is one of several competing stereotypes. Another common, although contrasting, image is of the fortune-seeker who abandons his town for his own self-gain. Of course, perceptions of migration change over time and contradictory meanings can be held concurrently. It is quite conceivable that at the time of these migrations, the migrants may have been perceived as the lucky escapees. However, given the wealth of northern Italy today, and the fact that it has become a region of immigration, the ‘lucky ones’ are now considered to be the non-migrants or the repatriated, especially when their standard of living

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Visits Home

is compared with migrants who settled in South America. One Australian migrant complained to me that, ‘When Italy was doing badly, everyone wanted to come to Australia. Now that Italy is doing well, I go there and they say, “But why do you go to Australia? America is here”. Permanent migrants living abroad could really only justify their failure to repatriate by establishing a sistemazione superior to what was possible in the home town. Indeed, the decision not to return was nearly always taken in the belief that the host country offered a brighter future, in particular for children, than the home country would.

The Magnacavallo monument is closely tied to a community of migrants in Brazil. Indeed, the history of the townspeople’s migrations to Brazil provides its context and rationale. When Benatti’s book was launched in Sao Paolo, support for the monument was canvassed there. The committee and the interested people in Brazil organised a series of events for September 1990, including a conference on emigration, a display of genealogies and the unveiling of the monument in Magnacavallo. In a

letter to Il Giornale, dated 25 May

1990, the Committee refers

to their monument as ‘perhaps the first of its kind in Italy’. The Brazilian descendants from the Mantovano region met in Sdo Paolo at Easter in 1990 to prepare for the ‘historical’ visit to Magnacavallo the following September. A delegation of twenty-six people from Mantova attended. Each was awarded a medallion which had been prepared to mark the historical occasion. The Brazilian medallion bears a portrait, in basrelief on bronze, of the same family as depicted on the Magnacavallo monument. Instead of being in departure, however, the family members are working the land in Brazil. The inscription reads, Immigracion Mantovano (Mantovano immigration).

The donation of the monument by the committee was formally endorsed by the shire of Magnacavallo early in 1991. The minutes of the shire council meeting held on 23 March that year read: ‘It is recognised that the monument is a concrete expression of our initiative of moral solidarity with regards to all the emigrated within Italy and abroad’. The plaque at the base of the monument reads: The descendants of the families ... who emigrated from the Mantovano region with many other fellow-citizens to Brazil, renew

their

ties

to

their

dear

brothers,

return

common ancestry, give praise to their glorious Magnacavallo 8 September 1990.

home

to

their

antecedents.

In this way the monument has come to represent in particular those descendants of emigrants in Brazil, and, in general, all descendants of emigrants all over the world. This would explain why the co-ordinators

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

57

of the ALM youth tour thought the group should visit the monument. The monument represents them; it is partly theirs. In fact, in his letter to me, the mayor extends this when he refers to ‘your monument’.

During the festivities of 8 September 1990, the local newspaper, La Gazzetta di Mantova, reported on the ‘crowd of thousands’ and the ‘South American sun’ that shone. The day was described as ‘a great bath of emotion’ and one reporter noted that ‘the bus doors did not

have

time to open before an avalanche

of kisses, hugs, handshakes,

and many, many tears descended’. Although the monument depicted the departure, the conference was a homecoming. The articles in La Gazzetta on the following two days included the comments: ‘families

were reunited, distant relatives met, and roots, once unknown, were discovered’; ‘the humane operation of nostalgia, of the call to return

home, at least for a day for those who left in hunger and desperation’; ‘historic occasion: the symbolic “return” after 100 years of distance’. Not surprisingly, many articles mentioned the Brazilian term, saudade (nostalgia).!® One journalist wrote: ‘It does not refer to the desire to return (where?), nor to the pain of distance

(from what?) but to the

bitterness of not knowing your roots’.!9 An important aim of the meeting was to provide documentation of ancestry to people who could then claim dual citizenship, thus the organised genealogy display. A latent function of the meeting was to enable emigrants to participate in the construction of place and community identity. The monument symbolises the emigrants, and its very existence in the town attests to a construction of the migrants’ belonging. The highlight of the day was the unveiling of the monument, which took place after the celebration

of a mass. La Gazzetta reported:

Doves were released, the church bells sounded, the people applauded ... the band played the Italian national anthem ... and emotion broke its banks . . . in that moment more than any other, the power of saudade, the nostalgia for one’s ignored origins was felt by the

descendants of the Italian migrants in Brazil.?°

Three months after the event, a reflective article written by the mayor was published in the local newspaper: ‘From now on the monument in Magnacavallo dedicated to the emigrated will remain an important point of reference and of anchorage for all residents and emigrants

who wish to conserve their memories and the affection of their roots’.?!

In many ways, the establishment of the Magnacavallo monument represents a belated acknowledgement of the important role migration has played in the life of the townspeople and their region. The activities that accompanied the unveiling of the monument emphasised the rediscovery of roots and the renewal of ties. However, in many people's

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Visits Home

lived experiences, the links between migrant and home town have never been lost and movement between the two places has never ceased. A more appropriate contemporary monument, therefore, would be one that celebrated the connections between places, whether represented by actual visits, telephone and postal contact or the more recent revolution in electronic communications. Despite the activities in Magnacavallo, most towns in Italy are less attentive to the migrant’ plight. The monument in Magnacavallo was met with much interest by the Perth co-ordinator of the ALM’s educational youth tour because he had spent more than a decade trying to have a similar monument erected in his hometown region of Sondrio. In 1979, he donated a substantial amount of money towards a rather ambitious project: It’s a project for a monument for the emigrants .. . The idea was to get all the people from Valtellina back to the village where they were born ... the Tirano people who went to Switzerland, the Grosio people who went to the USA, the people from Ponte who came to Australia, and people from the south of Sondrio who went to Roma. We thought [we'd] organise a big festa ... with the minister for immigration of Italy and a representative from each of the [host] countries ... We would show the strength and the force of the Valtellina all around the world ... and the importance of our community overseas.

Finally, in 1994, this man’s dream came true with the inauguration

of a monument to the emigrants from Valtellina and Valchiavenna entitled Stele degli Emigranti (Monument to the Emigrant) and the establishment of a provincial centre for migration studies in Tirano, Valtellina. When I asked him why this initiative remained unsupported for such a long time, he replied: It’s a long story. Italy was not interested in migrants that went too far away, because people who went to Argentina, Brazil, Canada, USA,

they are too far away for them. The only people they were concerned with were the European migrants. European migrants are still Italian citizens and they vote in every election and their vote is counted. We don’t vote, we are too far away, we are not important ... It's a

political reason, we are the migrants and the people that go to Switzerland

they are also considered

migrants,

but

they’re not

migrants because they go in Monday and come back Friday night and they are Italian and they follow the elections.

This Lombard emigrant, successfully established in Perth, sought recognition for his and his compatriots’ sacrifice—that is, migration—

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

59

from his townspeople in Italy. The motive for setting up a monument in his home province was to reveal to his townspeople the fruits of his labours abroad and to redress the sense of having been abandoned by both paese (home town) and patria (home country). The Tirano monument embodies many meanings. It is proof of the distant migrants’ successful sistemazione abroad, justification for their failure to repatriate, as well as a symbol of their continued attachment to their homeland. The explicit purpose of the planned festival was to show the ‘home towners’ what the emigrants were doing abroad—'lest they forget’ or, rather, ‘lest they don’t know’. The fight for recognition is double-sided: the emigrants living abroad are seldom acknowledged for their contribution to society in their adopted country. In much the same way, their sacrifice is rarely appreciated by their townspeople in their home country. This double lack of recognition is reflected in both the battles over citizenship and the anxiety about ethnic group attachment. In Australia, despite their naturalisation, first generation Italian

immigrants usually fail to be accepted as Australians;?* at the same

time they are no longer formally considered Italian in their place of birth. According to the Perth ALM co-ordinator, recognition in Italy has been an ongoing battle: Every time I go into Italy I go to Tirano: | say, ‘I'll never allow myself to apply for your temporary permit

to stay in my home’.

I was

expecting police to come and get me, because you're supposed to go and report. I know this was a bit of a challenge but they know they are wrong, and they are not prepared to touch me.

The Tirano monument was constructed by the well-known and locally born sculptor, Mario Negri. It is a stylised bronze structure depicting people in movement, proof of the well-known saying among the locals: ‘the mountains stay put but the people move’. The monument is seen by the locals as a tribute to the emigrants abroad. The organising committee was careful to record in their minutes that: the monument had been a precise request from the migrants of Australia. A request which was not put into action for more than 15 years ... They [the migrants] pointed out that the phenomenon of emigration, one of the most important and significant in the history of the economy of the valley [Valtellina], had not been studied and that the contribution of the migrants to the development of the

province was practically ignored.?>

One thing these migration monuments in Italy all seem to share in common is their representation of the emigrants in terms of the

expected homecoming. This representation reflects the perspective of

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Visits Home

the townspeople living in northern Italy, in particular the returned emigrants. The Tarzo monument and medallions clearly depict the return to the home town. Even the Magnacavallo monument, which ostensibly represents departure, attests implicitly, in the sad faces of the departing, to the desire to return. Indeed, at the time of departure,

the vast majority of emigrants intend to return.** The Tirano monument

seems to capture the postmodernist characterisation of contemporary persons as in a state of flux, always mobile. The moral lesson implicit in all the statues and monuments in Italy is that emigrants will return. In contrast, the Brazilian medallion, designed by the migrants settled abroad and thus imbued with their perspective on migration, does not speak overtly of return. The central message of this artefact is hard work—representing the emigrants’ experience of migration—although the hard work is perhaps expected eventually to result in a successful repatriation. The fact that the construction of the Magnacavallo monument was a catalyst for the coining of the Brazilian medallion (the same artist was employed) exemplifies the enduring connections between the home and the host countries.

Furnishing Settlement: symbols of a new home The townspeople make sense of migration in the context of life in Italy, and are for the most part unfamiliar with life abroad. The emigrated, on the other hand, make sense of migration in terms of their life abroad,

and see their connections to their natal towns in terms of their migration. Unlike the monuments in Italy, the monuments in Australia to Italian migration have been constructed by the migrants themselves.

One way to ensure that a monument is erected is to offer it as a gift to the local council. This is what happened in the towns of Innisfail, Queensland, and Cue, Western Australia. The Italians who commis-

sioned and erected these two monuments were in effect making a gift to themselves. In Australia, | again came across two competing images of the Italian migrant—the

‘rags to riches’ success story and its opposite, the via

dolorosa, the migrant’ life that is said to be as hard as a bread with seven crusts. I first learnt about the impressive image of the fortuneseeker through my godparents’ daughter, Teresa. Like me, Teresa and her siblings were born in Perth, but her family had decided to repatriate

to Tarzo when we were both in our early teens. For many years Teresa

and her sister Lisa were involuntary exiles from Australia. Their readjustment into town life in Italy was painful and the attendant questions of identity difficult to resolve. As is common with so many migrants, part of the healing process involved a visit home—although

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

61

this time in reverse. Teresa and Lisa came to stay with my family in Australia. They departed for Perth about six months into my fieldwork time. I remember being as excited as they were about their return, and so sorry not to be able to participate in their Australian homecoming. They had planned this trip and waited for it all their migrant lives. 1 could well imagine, however, that they would experience the disillusionment and disorientation that characterises this type of visit. Only theirs would be compounded by the fact that there were few roots to rediscover—there was no ancestral home to receive them, only the old inner-city deli, with the house they had lived in no longer attached. This place had been sold and resold so often it would have been hardly recognisable to them. The succession of Vietnamese owners, who had replaced the succession of Italian owners when the latter moved to suburbia, would have erased all the familiar signs; there would be no

Italian olives Not search

calendars, posters or rosary beads on the walls, no homemade and ricotta for sale. surprisingly, they both decided to embark on a longer voyage in of more generalised Australian roots. They took a tour of remote

and regional Australia.

It was on this tour, in far north Queensland,

that Teresa came upon the Innisfail statue, a monument she immediately identified with. It was a statue of a migrant worker, donated by an Italian community. Here was an image of the life her parents had left behind in Australia, of the life she felt she had lost and could not

recover. She sent me a postcard picture of the monument, certain I would understand its significance. Part of the power of monuments is that they can be interpreted and reinterpreted so as always to be relevant to the present. Teresa saw in the monument some recognition for Italian migrants in Australia; however, its meaning at the time of unveiling was not so straightforward. In 1959, on the occasion of the centenary celebrations of Queens-

land’s statehood, the Italian cane-cutters of Innisfail presented the town

with a memorial to the state’s cane-cutters. The statue, over 2 metres

high, is the figure of a cane-cutter carrying a cane knife of brass in his right hand and holding a stool of cane with his left. It stands on a compact square block of marble, which is also over 2 metres high, with scenes of everyday life in the cane fields engraved on the back and front. There is a short inscription, appearing on one side in English and on the other in Italian, ‘To the Pioneers of the Sugar Industry’. At the bottom in smaller letters is the wording: ‘Donated by the Italian Community of Innisfail District on the First Centenary of Queensland, 1859-1959".

At the base of the monument,

similar in design to those common

four brass waterbags,

to the canefields, spout water into

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Visits Home

shell-shaped collectors. The water then flows into a large receptacle surrounding the pedestal. The base is octagonal, 2 metres in diameter and is enclosed by a balustrade in brass designed to represent equipment used by workers in the industry, including files, waterbags and cane knives. The posts represent sugar cane stalks, built with cast iron moulded from clay models which originally contained actual cane. Much was made of the project in the local newspaper, the Evening Advocate, and an analysis of the press reports reveals a great deal about the relations between the Italian population and the Australian government at that time. A number of news articles refer to the way the project was allegedly conceived, in a ‘very Australian manner . . . over a glass of beer on a Saturday morning in a pub’.?> By far the most noted aspect of the monument is its Latin motto, Ubi Bene, Ibi Patria;

‘All committee members report a deep feeling of gratitude by members of the community to this land of their adoption and this... [is] .. . expressed by the Latin motto, engraved on the front of the pedestal, Ubi Bene Ibi Patria (where you own your land there is your father-

land)’.?6

The main organiser of the initiative, Dr Rigano, is quoted in the same paper a month earlier as follows: Now, at the end of Queensland's first centenary, the descendants of

those people and their fellows intend to record a lasting gratitude to those pioneers who, through sacrifice and tribulation, paved the road

for the nation’s progress and their own welfare. They will declare their dominant feeling in this Latin motto engraved upon the front of the pedestal—Ubi Bene Ibi Patria (Where you own your land, there is your fatherland). The purpose of this monument is to remind its donors that their fatherland is now Australia, a land of Saxon

origin; cancel out all the discrepancy and misunderstanding of the past; to further promote the continually increasing cordial relationships between all sections of the Innisfail community; ... its unveiling ceremony will be linked with a public acknowledgement of Queensland, the sugar industry and tribute to the pioneers who converted this province from virgin lands into colonialisation.2”

The newspapers coverage of the actual day of the unveiling is a

study in assimilationist rhetoric.?® Premier Nicklin assured Queensland

Italians ‘that Queensland, and Australia appreciates the fact that they have chosen this country as their adopted home’. It does not take much

reading between

the lines, however,

to discover that, although

the idea of ‘One Australia’ is promoted, every speaker suggests an ‘us’ and ‘them’. Dr Rigano is reported to have made mention of ‘little differences in feeling’ and his comment

from a month

earlier, about

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

63

the ‘discrepancy and misunderstanding of the past’, is raised. This is undoubtedly a reference to the fact that many Innisfail Italians were interned during World War II, though no overt mention is made of this sad event. Nor is mention made of the fact that, even after the war,

the Returned Services League (RSL) in Queensland moved that some

2000 Italians be deported.’? Instead, in a telling illustration of the way

in which history is constructed by those who that, ‘sons of Italian settlers fought side by World War II against aggression’. Dr Rigano to ‘homesickness’ and, by implication, to the

write it, the article reports side with Australians in makes cautious reference desire to return home;

There are the little touches of homesickness for the country where we were born, we still have that little sentiment.

If we showed

respect and were not proud of the European country came you would despise us, because we would character and principle. We still love our country of children are as good Australians as the Australian, and

pay respect to the country of adoption.*°

no

from which we be lacking in origin, but our we, the elders,

As the monument was unveiled the band played Advance Australia Fair and Waltzing Matilda (having earlier performed God Save the Queen). The Premier's address immediately after the unveiling focuses on the Latin motto: This monument was inspired by a community whose members have gratified their desire to have a stake in a land of promise. The Latin motto engraved upon the pedestal is symbolic of their happiness at having played a part in the development of a prosperous part of our State. The inscription, Ubi Bene Ibi Patria, means just this, where you

own your own land, there is your Fatherland.*!

The reporter then neatly draws the conclusions; ‘So in two simple phrases is expressed the keynote of one of the most outstanding examples of integration and assimilation in the history of the Com-

monwealth, Ubi Bene Ibi Patria’.

The ‘us and them’ imaging is only once resolved through a surprising reference to the collective ‘white race’: ‘They tilled the soil, with only thought of the future and, in so doing, contributed in no small way to the major triumph of the white race in the tropics’. This journalist has forgotten that earlier this century Italians were often considered to be black, swarthy types.?? What allegedly most impressed Ben Foley (then Queenland’s Minister for Farming) ‘was the decision of the Italian community to make their Centenary gesture without any attempt to glorify or commemorate the part the Italian community played in the development of the sugar industry’. One wonders whether, given

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the assimilationist social policies of the time, a monument to the Italians alone would have been accepted. Perhaps it was these policies that contributed to the decision to choose a Latin inscription rather than an Italian one. Latin may have been considered more accessible to the English-speaking community than Italian. Despite all the attention paid to the Latin motto, Mr Foley pointed out that the then Minister for Migration, Alexander Downer, ‘is unhappy about the percentage of our new friends who have qualified for naturalisation’ and that ‘the best migrants were those who would stay in the country’. Perhaps the Latin motto was too ambiguous, after all. What happened if you did not own your own land, or you sold it? Why had so few become naturalised? It was well known that Italians sent remittances to their relatives in Italy and the high rates of return by Italian migrants had inspired a

government inquiry.>*

Much ado was made of the monument itself. Every report notes that

the total cost was £5000,

that it was made

in Carrara, Italy, world-

famous for the production of marble statuary, and that it was sculptured by ‘an eminent artisan’, Renato Beretta, renowned in Europe for his work and an instructor at the Academy of Arts at Carrara. A deal of fuss had to be made of a monument the likes of which Australia had never seen before. The statue towers, gleaming white, in an imposing and defiant pose. Carrara marble, the substance of Michelangelo's Davide and Pieta, is said to have nervo—strength. An article on Carrara

marble in the National Geographic describes the marble as a ‘touchstone of eternity’, having ‘endured many empires’, reminding readers how the ancient Roman Emperor Augustus reportedly boasted, ‘I found

Rome built of bricks; I leave her clothed in marble’.

The in the nervo. ‘nerve’, reports

statue of the cane-cutter in Innisfail is a heroic figure, sculpted very substance which best portrays its meaning—strength or The other interpretation of nervo, for an English speaker, is as in defiance. Despite the rhetoric of assimilation in the news and official speeches, the Innisfail statue is a defiant reminder

to the Australian community that it was mainly the Italian immigrants

who settled and established the sugar industry, the industry that ‘created’ Innisfail© The monument clearly transforms Italian immigrants into Australian pioneers, in a considerable claim to place, especially given the history of ethnic tensions in the area, including the massive Italian internment only twenty years earlier.>” Ubi Bene Ibi Patria is a surprising statement about place. It undermines the expectation of return so clearly implied by the monuments in Tarzo and Magnacavallo. It would be inconceivable for such a monument to be constructed in Italy. Nothing about the Innisfail statue implies return; quite the opposite. This statue not only symbolises the

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

65

individual migrant'’s sistemazione in the host country but lays claim to the sistemazione of the state through the Italian immigrant as Australian pioneer.

The Italians of Innisfail migrated from a variety of regions including

Piedmont,

Sicily, the Veneto, Friuli and Calabria. In Australia, their

collective claim to place is an entirely different expression of campanilismo from that which is expressed in the home towns in Italy (where inter-town tensions often exist, not to mention the blatant prejudices between north and south). The shared experience of developing Innisfail gives the immigrants a common bond regardless of their Italian place of birth. Regional identification becomes even less relevant among the Australian-born generations. The message of the inscription reveals the motive behind their migration—the opportunity to seek their fortune in order to achieve a successful sistemazione. The statue of the cane-cutter is testimony to the hard work Italian migrants in Queensland endured to be able to ‘own land’. This achievement is justification both for migration and for the adoption of place. And yet most of the migrants (at least the Veneti) expected to repatriate and many only decided to settle in Australia after an extended visit to their former homes in Italy. For those who arrived after World War II, this pivotal visit occurred during the late 1960s, at least a decade after they had been in Australia. It took them this long to raise the necessary capital to attempt a repatriation. In the meantime, most had married, often to partners from their home or nearby towns— after all, there was no point marrying a local if you intended to return to Italy (and the locals weren't very keen on Italian spouses). They had also had children. These visits occurred before the economic miracle,

which had not quite begun its radical transformation of the Veneto from ‘the south of the north’ into one of the richest regions in Italy. The visit, for most, was characterised by a growing awareness that hometown life wasn’t as perfect as the memories of it were. This acknowledgement was made even more painful by the unambiguous preference of the Australian-born children, whose common mantra was ‘when can we go home?’ (Most of their memories of this visit are preoccupied with the rudimentary plumbing and the arguments that ensued when embarrassed parents insisted they should use, what one child described as, ‘the hole in the ground where the toilet should be’.) Together, these experiences precipitated the unexpected realisation that Australia seemed to offer a more prosperous future. The decision to return to Australia represented a significant break with the long tradition of seasonal migration, but it was justified by the promise of a superior sistemazione, the realisation of which proved to be true for

many, at least for a time.

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There are obvious similarities between the statue in Innisfail Brazilian medallion. They both lay claim to place through the erable amount of work expended to capture it. They also explanation and justification for migration. The explanations

and the considoffer an the two

mementoes offer, however, are different. The man represented on the

Australian monument is very clearly a fortune-seeker. This man migrated in order to find his fortune, which he did, and successfully established himself in his new country. The twin Brazilian and Magnacavallo medallions stress, instead, the link between working foreign soil and the ‘must leave’ situation emigrants had experienced in their native land. Magnacavallo descendants are in Brazil only because they could not survive at home. Italians in the three places—Brazil, Australia and northern Italy—are linked, however, in the common values they

place on work. Working for sistemazione to enable a successful future in a chosen place of residence was the reality for Italian peasant-workers everywhere. Perhaps the fact that the monument in Innisfail represents a fortuneseeker while the Brazilian medallion denotes the plight of escapees can be explained by the temporal separation of thirty years. Constructions of an attachment to place and the meaning of sistemazione change over time. The most significant factor in the Innisfail monument is the date. Living in Innisfail in 1959 was, in most cases, a good deal better than

life in those parts of Italy from which the cane-cutters had migrated. Although predominantly an experience of hard work, in the late 1950s Queensland offered paid employment and, most importantly, a future for children. The statue is the personification of their successful migration perceived, as it was, at that time. The inscription on the statue suggests that these fortune-seekers were very pleased with the manner in which their fortunes were growing in their new home. It begs the question, shall we remain? By extension however, the inscription also begs the question of what becomes of one’s native land when the living is not so good. The experience of migration was not always

one of fortune-finding. Like the Brazilian medallion, the monument in Cue, Western

Australia, stands in stark contrast to the statue of the

successful ‘fortune-seeker’ in Innisfail. The situation of the early Italian migrants to Western Australia was not as bountiful as that of the Innisfail Italians. | was aware of this already, from family history. My mother’s relatives were early migrants; my great-great-grandfather having arrived from the Valtellina in the 1890s. While he eventually repatriated, his son migrated in 1925. As was not uncommon in those days, it took my great-grandfather many years to fund the passage of his wife and children, the youngest of which he met for the first time at the Western Australian port of

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

67

Fremantle when she was fourteen years old. They settled together in the south-west and carved a farm out of the virgin bush, only to be separated again after three short years when my great-grandfather, a naturalised citizen, was interned in 1942 for the remainder of the war.

Along with the many other internees, he was treated as a criminal,*®

although his only crime was in being well known for his love of Italy (a country he had not stepped foot in for nearly two decades) and his respect

for Mussolini

(the man

he credited

with

the eradication

of

malaria-bearing mosquitoes from his beloved valley). While he served his time with pride, his wife and family suffered an even harder internment in the relative isolation of the bush. It was my mother who told me about the monument in Cue. She had learnt of it through her Valtellina kin. According to the geographer Joseph Gentilli, by 1871 immigrants from the north Italian region of Lombardy were ‘by far the most numerous group among the thousand or so Italians in south-eastern Australia, working mostly on the goldfields as miners, woodcutters and labourers’.*? During the first thirty years of the twentieth century, many migrants from the Valtellina found work in the Murchison Goldfields, particularly in Cue, a town some 650 kilometres north-east of Perth. My grandfather and his brother worked in the vicinity along the wood line. Gentilli notes that ‘the mine was dangerous; Hardiman (pers. comm.) remembers hearing it called il cimitero dei Bergamaschi, the cemetery of those from Bergamo (a town in Lombardy), and many Italians killed in underground accidents lie buried in the cemetery behind Mount Leonora’.*? A small group of Lombard immigrants from Perth visited Cue and its surrounding towns while on a tour of the north of Western Australia in 1989. They were struck by the number of graves to young Italian men in the cemeteries. Some of the tourists knew of relatives and townsmen who had worked in the mines. They were saddened and shocked by the state of the graves, particularly in Cue. The graves were nameless, untended. For Italians, the care of the dead is consid-

ered an especially important responsibility which falls to relatives. The visitors to Cue came away feeling ‘horrified and guilty’ and determined to fulfil their duty, long overdue, to their ancestors and co-nationals. The state of the graves in Cue was symbolic of the lack of acknowledgement accorded to the early gold miners, a large percentage of whom were Italian. On that visit the immigrants decided to build a monument in the cemetery at Cue in honour of the Italian miners of the early 1900s. A group of fifty people travelled from Perth to Cue for the inauguration of the monument in September 1991. Apparently, more people would have attended except that Cue had only one hotel and could not accommodate a larger group. The mayor of Cue and a

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representative of the management of the local mine addressed the assembly and the local priest blessed the monument. One of the Lombard organisers made a video of the proceedings. He begins his video by commenting that: Many Valtellinesi and Bergamaschi died in this area, working in the mines, they died young at twenty-seven, twenty-eight years of age,

from the mine disease. Many worked as gold prospectors, some made

their fortunes, but most did not, and they are in these cemeteries

today, abandoned . . . It is a moving ceremony because we remember the sacrifice of our parents, we remember the sacrifice of many Italians who, in attempting to do what was best for their families and for the good of their homeland

[patria], which they left in times

of great hardship, seeking that fortune which many did not find.*}!

The video begins on the day before the ceremony when preparations for the laying of the memorial stone, a huge boulder from the mine, were under way. Three retired Lombard men are shown working in the hot sun. The preparations and the ceremony are akin to those of a funeral. There is the vigil of the body (in this case, bodies), while the

men position the memorial stone. On the following day, mourners arrive at the site and a ceremony is conducted by the local priest. After the laying of a wreath at the foot of the monument, the mourners retire to a hall for refreshments where there is music and singing, akin to a wake. All of this has been recorded on video with a commentary in Italian. The video was then copied and sent to those people who could not attend the inauguration. One viewer I spoke to commented: It is something very moving for those who lived it, for those who knew of it, to see these abandoned cemeteries where there are only

numbers amid the stony remains of the gold mine. There is not even a name, just think how many people, abandoned and forgotten. We, the postwar immigrants, want to remember our pioneers. Like

the Innisfail monument,

formation.

The deceased

the Cue

monument

effects a trans-

Italian immigrants are transformed

into

Australian pioneers. At the same time, their migration is acknowledged

as an action intended for the benefit of both family and homeland, as

well as benefiting Australia. The inscription on the plaque of the monument reads: Many young and brave Italians travelled over 20000 kms to this new country, leaving families and loved ones in search of wealth, prosperity and better living standards.

Unfortunately

most were

unable to fulfil these dreams and perished in the harsh and primitive

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

69

conditions. Sincere thanks to the community for their understanding and hospitality. September 1991.

The monument is testimony to the sacrifice of the immigrants. In this respect it would be comprehensible to Italians in Italy and compatible with their understanding of migration. To many of the relatives of Italian immigrants, Australia is considered a land of harsh and primitive conditions. A copy of the video was sent to various people living in Lombardy and it was obviously put together with an Italian audience in mind. The commentator takes the time to describe the environs in detail for listeners unfamiliar with the place. The tone of the

commentary

is nationalistic

and

description of a battlefield after a battle:

patriotic,

not

unlike

the

In this moment we are witnesses of an important event, tribute of

affection and admiration to the many co-nationals who were the pioneers of this piece of Australian land, prospectors of precious minerals. In this place, full of nature’s richest generosity, there are many glorious remains of the corpses of our co-nationals spread about. They were the architects of hard work and inhumane sacrifice

which makes up the lives of pioneers.

The deceased are referred to as the ‘heroes’ of the mines. There are several references to the tendency to ‘forget’ the emigrants of the past, and at one point the tendency to ‘be forgotten’ is extended to migrants today: ‘As you can see the wreath to the memory of the Italian miners is prepared with the red, white and green of our flag, of which we are forever proud and which we remember with pride and affection, even if we are often forgotten’. The Cue monument can be interpreted as representative of the plight of all emigrants abroad, not unlike the Brazilian medallion. Again, in the ‘double lack of recognition’, it is the emigrants themselves who have to make their history and experiences known to both their paesani in Italy and their fellow Australians. The felt responsibility of the Lombard migrants to acknowledge their co-nationals who perished in the goldfields can be read as a statement of their own need for acknowledgement. The video is as much about the Lombard migrants in Perth as about the deceased gold miners: the former believe that, like

the gold miners, they have been ‘forgotten and abandoned’ by relatives in Italy, as is evident from this excerpt of the video commentary: We are happy to have had the success that we expected. We are certain that we have succeeded. Even for those distant relatives who remember,

they will think that some

still remember

their relatives,

their old parents, grandparents. So, happy with this we leave for the

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return journey [to Perth] returning home singing, happy to have done something worthwhile.

Inglis, in his essay ‘Monuments in the Modern City’, concludes: ‘the

ceremonies of Anzac Day remain Australians’ most eloquent affirmation

of nationality, and the war memorials their only shrines’.*? If the construction of the Australian identity has been linked to Australia’s participation in international wars, the construction of the ItalianAustralian identity could be linked to Italians’ participation in their own political, social and environmental struggles on a national front. Through the hard work of sistemazione in blue-collar employment on the canefields and goldfields amidst political and social pressure to assimilate, Italians in Australia have managed to erect at least two shrines to their own unique identities.

Nostos and the Discourses of Migration All these monuments, statues and medallions are mementoes of migration, each representing a different aspect of migration, governed by the perspective of the people who commissioned them. The different perspectives of the Italian and Australian monuments represent different discourses on migration, which are in contention. The former represent the meanings migration holds for the inhabitants of the home town in Italy; the latter represent the meanings migration holds for the emigrants. The former are rooted in a hometown reference frame, while the latter are contextualised in the host country. What is most contentious, though, is the implication of each monument. The homecoming statue ultimately makes sense of migration in the act of the emigrant’s return. The cane-cutter statue very clearly places meaning in fortuneseeking abroad, an act potentially at odds with returning home. The inscription

Ubi Bene Ibi Patria, which

explains

the actions

of the

emigrant, defies the meanings associated with the images of natal-town church and swallow, images that represent campanilismo or connection with one’s place of birth and belonging to one’s native community. These mementoes of migration also reveal the dynamic nature of the experience of migration, as each one is the product of specific economic, political and socio-cultural processes at a particular point in time. There are at least two main time periods which need to be considered in the migration histories of San Fior and Perth: the migrations of the early 1900s and the migrations of the two decades of post-World War II depression. The construction in Cue is a monument to those Italian immigrants who lost their lives in the goldfields at the beginning of this century, symbolised by a giant tombstone. The cane-

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

71

cutter statue is representative of the experience of migration of the

Italians in Queensland in the 1950s, a time when life in Australia for

the Italian migrants, although tough, offered much better economic prospects than life in Italy. The inscription on the statue is the

emigrants’ excuse for not returning—a successful sistemazione.

In an interesting contrast to the translation of the Latin inscription provided by the Evening Advocate: ‘Where you own your land, there is your homeland’, anthropologist Michael Jackson translates the motto as ‘your home is where they treat you well’.* Given that the symbol of

success for Australians in the 1950s was home

ownership, it is not

surprising that the Latin motto was interpreted by the organisers as a reference to private property. The government would have been happy to encourage Italians to purchase land, because this was in some cases a privilege that was granted solely to Australian citizens.** A comparison between the natal-country and the host-country is implicit in the Latin inscription. In contrast, the statue of the return erected in Tarzo in 1985, many years after the economic boom of the Veneto region, is testimony to the townspeople’s expectation of the migrant’ return. In the

1990s, when

I conducted

fieldwork, unlike during the 1950s, it

was far from true that Australia fared better than northern Italy. By a twist of fate, the inscription on the cane-cutter statue would suggest also that, for this period at least, the emigrants should have repatriated to their home towns if they were from the prosperous northern regions. Indeed, this sentiment weighs heavily on the hearts and minds of some San Fiorese who feel they would have been better off had they returned to the Veneto. Economic considerations, although they are of primary importance in any discussion of migration, are not the only relevant ones. Migration

must also be considered as a cultural process. The main reason for migration, offered by migrants and townspeople alike, is to enable a successful sistemazione when the opportunity to ‘set oneself up’ is not

available at home.

Every migrant I interviewed, without exception, at

first told me that they had originally intended to repatriate to Italy. Their migrations were conceived by them as money-making ventures that would facilitate their eventual sistemazione ‘back’ home. This expression of intent must not, however, be taken simply at face value. The vast majority of San Fiorese migrants to Australia did not return, and, as I discovered upon further questioning, a few informants emigrated without intending to return. These emigrants were not prepared to admit that their intentions were other than those which had now become acceptable. There

are, at the same

time, important

similarities between

the

monuments, statues and medallions of Italy and Australia. All of them

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share certain characteristics—they all symbolise a form of campanilismo or attachment to place; they are all indications of the impetus that the cultural code of sistemazione has had on individual migrations; and,

whether explicit or implicit, they are testimony to the connections between

migration

the home

and host countries. Above

is a shrine

all, each memento

to nostalgia and a comment

of

on journeying,

migrancy and nostos. The two discourses of migration represented by the Italian and

Australian mementoes concern the moral obligation of sistemazione and

the attachment to place and community of campanilismo. These are conflicting themes of a reciprocal bond: the twin obligations of the migrant’s responsibility to return and the town’s responsibility to

provide for its inhabitants. The migrant is, at one and the same time, a

painful sacrifice, deserter-escapee and lucky fortune-seeker. The town is both an unfit provider and an abandoner of its children, yet it is also remorseful and forgiving. These themes form part of the broader discourse of migrancy—'the bitter agony of distance’—of not knowing one’s roots, of not being known, of forgetting and being forgotten, of

return, recognition and reunion.

In the chapters that follow, I show how the migrants’ and the townspeople’s separate, and often opposing, discourses create an ongoing dialectic between the home and host ‘communities’. Like the spirit of the gift in traditional exchange,‘ the relationship between migrant and townsperson is ever-fractured and forever seeking wholeness. Townspeople in both countries are connected in relationships of reciprocity, but, as shall be shown, these reciprocal relations are fraught with tensions. The discourses most clearly come into contention during a visit encounter. The single most significant ethnographic finding of my fieldwork was the high frequency and lengthy duration of visits home made by San Fiorese now living in Perth. Many migrants travel to San Fior annually and they encourage their children to make visits also. The children usually want to visit San Fior. I had expected migrants to feel some ties to the home town but, given that some of these people had lived in Perth long enough to observe the sistemazione of their children and grandchildren here, I was intrigued by the significance the homeland still held in their lives. There are two arenas of the visit encounter, Italy and Australia. The

status of the two discourses is dependent on the economic, political and social conditions in both places. Generally speaking, the migrants’ discourse

is muted

in Italy where

the townspeople’s

discourse

is

dominant. Due to its subordinate status, the migrants’ discourse tends

to find

expression

in symbolic

mementoes of migration.

forms,

as is evident

in the various

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation

73

These discourses, as described, focus only on who is doing the representing, on whose perspective is dominant. While it is essential to note who is being represented and how, it is equally important to look at who is not being represented and why. For example, women have been migrating from northern Italy in search of work since the middle of the nineteenth century. Internal migration was very common; often

rural women migrated to find employment as servants in the homes of the urban rich. These experiences are seldom represented. Of course, there are women’s voices: in the monuments, medallions and statues

considered so far a young girl runs to meet a young adult male, and a young mother waits with babe in arms. However, whether townswoman, repatriate, seasonal/European or permanent overseas emigrant, these women have one thing in common, their discourse is always subordinate and they are invariably represented as dependants.*® The migrants who settled abroad in distant countries have a different experience

of migration

from the seasonal and European

migrants.

They do return home, but only on short visits; their return is temporary. Their homecomings are fraught with tensions because the meanings and expectations ‘returning’ holds for them are, in many important ways, different to the meanings and expectations that ‘returning’ holds for the townspeople. One of the major issues is incorporation and a set of related factors about the nature of community and consociate boundaries, mechanisms of inclusion and exclusion, and the structural

dilemma that arises when, because of migration, visitors have to be given a location in, on, or outside, the boundary of the community. Often, this location is equivocal in ways that may be advantageous to the community, but may also pose a threat to it. The dilemma is how to incorporate the visitors.

3 The Many Italies

Essential for an understanding of history is not just knowledge of the lives of obscure and ordinary people, but information about the ideas feeding into their everyday experience. It is true that these ideas (self-images, myths, stories and jokes) are for the most part belied by reality. And yet, all these mental representations are the other face of reality, which includes and is shaped by them .. . Out of this arises the curious life led by mental representations—their constant ambivalence, their power to form diverse associations in a

dynamic of continuity and change.!

Luisa Passerini is writing about popular memory and its role in the construction of shared knowledge. Tracing the mental representations of Italian belongings meant that I had to interrogate a plethora of ideas about being Italian—including my own. My research on return visits was a journey of self-discovery: by understanding my own experiences I could better understand the

experiences of others, and vice-versa. The sort of reflections, or self-

reflexivity, involved in this journey have been asserted by postmodern writers as important in research, particularly in allowing the reader to know something about the writer. By having researchers situate themselves in their writing, a more exacting picture of their analysis may

emerge for the reader.? Along a similar vein, it is a truism of all research that, in order to understand the present, it is necessary to understand the past—more specifically, the historical context out of which the

The Many Italies

75

present has grown. Indeed, the past is continuously constructed by people in terms of their lived experiences in the present. This partly explains the yearning of so many second and third generation diasporaborn migrants to ‘go back’ to their roots—to search out their beginnings.

I ‘went back’ to Italy, as an anthropologist hoping to better under-

stand the Italian-Australian migration experience,

and as a ‘second

generation migrant’ hoping to better understand who I was. I didn’t need to go to Italy to realise that there were many Italies. This 1 knew already from living in Perth, where there are many Italo-Australian ‘communities’ and many ways each ‘community’ could be divided according to different interest groups. For instance, it had been clear to me from an early age that I was a northerner—that explained why I was never easily identified as an Italian. Northerners apparently don’t look like the popularly held stereotype of an Italian—they do not necessarily have the beautiful thick black hair and the dark complexion expected of an Italian. Indeed, during the early years of Italian migration to Australia, when the White Australia Policy was in force,

northern Italians were granted entry more readily than southerners because they were considered to be ‘whiter’? It was an affirming experience for me to visit my mother’s ancestral village on the SwissItalian border and find so many Italians who had similar features to mine. They say there is such a thing as the ‘village face-—testament to the relative boundedness of life prior to the current era of globalisation. Of course, years later, on a trip to Sicily, 1 was surprised to find so many tall, fair Sicilians—legacy of the Nordic invasions. Clearly, the notion of distinct northern and southern Italian phenotypes is a myth made, or at least sustained, in Australia.

In addition to being aware that I was a northerner, I also knew from an early age that I was a Veneta and a Trevisana. These are respectively the region and province of my father’s birth. My mother’s ancestry in the Valtellina, a beautiful valley in the Lombard region's province of Sondrio, represents another important identity marker for me. These

various levels of identification pale into insignificance, however, when

compared with the most important of all—the ancestral village or town. After all, this is the place people travel back to. Italian emigration has always been ‘from the village out’, characterised by chain-migration networks and rooted in a hometown orientation. Knowing these various levels of identification were key identityforming devices for the first generation migrants, at least, was significant

in my decision to organise my research around the study of one particular village rather than trying to cover too many diverse locations in Italy. In this way, my methodology lent itself to a rather traditional

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type of anthropological fieldwork—where the researcher lives in and conducts a micro-study of one small community. On the other hand, the contemporary notion of multi-sited research was also pertinent to my work as I was to conduct a study of the San Fiorese-Australian community in Perth as well.* This urban location was very different to the confines of the village. On my first day in San Fior I decided to draw a map of the town—a common first step in ethnographic research. My attempt at cartography, although rudimentary, turned out to be a useful exercise, not so much because I learnt where things were, but because I developed an idea of the village as a place which represented a bounded community. After all, this is how the San Fiorese in Perth and in Italy maintained a connection to this place—through their shared idea of it. I knew enough from my reading of community studies to realise that the notion of ‘community’ is a highly contested one in the social sciences and that communities are invariably fraught with tensions and divisions. Indeed,

there are many researchers who argue that the concept of community is a myth, an ideal type.? San Fior is a modernised town whose borders are becoming less and less distinct due to the increasing numbers of housing and industrial developments. I wondered whether it was any more of a ‘community’ than the multicultural suburb I grew up in, whose borders invisibly divide it from other almost identical suburbs and where neighbours might not speak the same language, let alone know each other. I wondered also if the loosely connected network of San Fiorese living in Perth could be called a community even though

they often lived miles apart. It didn’t take long to see how the San Fiorese, both at home and

away, represented a community that was not so much tied to a geo-

graphical place as to an ideological one. My first lesson was in the importance of village life, the power of the collective construction of that life and the manner in which this was achieved. I had gleaned the central importance of village life from the power of the myth of return— to go back home to the village was a strong enough shared idea to render the place a community. This imagining of place—so important to the migrants—was sustained by the collective construction of the past they shared with their townspeople. These shared memories were a boundary-forming device, which facilitated the attachment to and identification with place of both the townspeople and the migrants.® I realised that, in order to understand the phenomenon of return visits, I needed to understand attachment to place and how that attach-

ment was constructed and maintained. I also needed to understand how migrants and townspeople manage and sustain connections to place and to each other over such large distances and long periods of time.

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Donna Gabaccia used proverbs to identify what she referred to as the ‘common beginnings’ that migrants in Chicago had with their relatives who remained in Sicily.’ Similarly, I use the popular detti (sayings) about campanilismo to identify the social construction of history and the collective identification with place that informants in Australia share with their relatives in San Fior. While the economic factors are an important feature of the migration equation, other equally important parts are played by the micro processes of migration comprising the values, orientations and symbols that have shaped both individual and socially defined meanings, motivations and expectations.® Some analysts, such as Delaney, claim that researchers do not adequately understand the meaning of the home village and the strength of attachment binding its people to it.? However, attachment to place is particularly important in understanding migration. The most important values, orientations and symbols that shape the migrants’

world are rooted in the context of village life.!° A better appreciation

of these factors would ensure that peasant-worker migrants were portrayed as actively engaged in shaping their futures, rather than as passive victims whose futures are shaped by a capitalist world system.

Identifying the Many Italies Italians have been in Australia for most of white Australia’s history and have been influential in, and influenced by, the changing social policies

on immigration.!! The construction of the Italo-Australian identity has

a history that is intimately related to the development of Australia as a nation.!2 At the same time, the development of Italy as a nation, with

its history of deep cleavages along regional, provincial and village lines, cannot be ignored in the consideration of the development of Italian ethnicity in Australia. The particular world view of the San Fiorese, with its inherent identification with place, meant that even emigrants settled abroad contin-

ued to identify with their home towns. The immigrants’ campanilismo was undeniably changed by the experience of migration, particularly if they decided to settle abroad permanently. Although influenced by their new place of residence, the immigrants retained their connections and obligations to their home town. Identification with place also underwent changes for the San Fiorese in Italy due, in the main, to the

relatively rapid transformation in the area from one that was economically depressed and primarily agrarian to a highly industrialised, affluent one. The massive social changes that have occurred in San Fior have been interpreted by social scientists and townspeople alike as a

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development from traditional peasant to modern industrialised society. Despite the changes, there is a continued sense of campanilismo and attachment to place as people construct their history collectively. Cultural goals, such as sistemazione, are maintained, although what it means to be ‘set up’ has changed over time. What it means to be Italian has also changed. This century, international Italy could be called chameleon Italy. Its history of extreme poverty, fascist politics and the negative reputation of its peasant migrants as European coolies ensured it had a poor international image.!? The San Fiorese migrants who came to Perth before World

War II tried hard to disguise their italianita because of the prejudiced

treatment they received from Anglo-Australians. The last decades, however, have seen an increase in the popularity and fashionable nature of things Italian. The current prestige of Italian consumer products does not necessarily extend to Italian migrants themselves. While pasta, Pavarotti and patron saints are celebrated icons of Italian culture, the peasant background, patriarchal family structures and poor English of Italian migrants are associated with another Italy, one that is not prestigious. In Australia’s Italians, Vasta and her co-authors comment that ‘Ferrari cars and Italian fashions, promoted as representing the good life under capitalism, are not dependent on an Italian migrant

presence’.!*

Because Australia’s immigration policy promoted settler most migrants, including Italians (despite their dubious were encouraged to apply for Australian citizenship. Lindsay reports that Italians who did not become naturalised were

migration, reputation) Thompson considered

‘bludgers’ by their Australian co-workers.!> Thompson also found that

a minority of the Italian migrants she interviewed had obtained Australian citizenship. Individuals in both our studies became naturalised to attain privileges to which only citizens were entitled. Given their initial intention to repatriate, San Fiorese tended to become naturalised once they had decided to settle in Australia, on average, five to ten years after arrival. The only exceptions were those who required citizenship to purchase property or obtain a job.!® Because they saw their migration as a passport to an eventual sistemazione in

Italy, Australian citizenship was not a goal.!”

Gabaccia notes that ‘throughout the world [Italians] remained strikingly indifferent to naturalization’ whether they were temporary workers or long-time residents.!® She concludes that ‘the meaning of citizenship for ordinary Italians is unclear, although most scholars emphasize the dominance of regional or local over national identity’.!9 Orsi, in his study of Italian Harlem, notes that ‘the decision to bring

family members over was better than naturalization as an indication of

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an immigrant’ desire to stay’.2° This view could be interpreted as meaning that links to the old country are broken when family ties no longer exist. A theory of ties to the homeland developed from studying the process of urbanisation in Africa. Anthropologist Phillip Mayer was

concerned with the degrees of commitment African migrants had to

their natal village. Commitment was judged according to the amount of ‘extra-town ties’ an individual had. One of these ties was the frequency of visits. Mayer argued that ‘a migrant’ propensity to change

culturally (or to resist change) is ultimately bound up with the fate of

his extra-town ties’! According to Mayer, extra-town ties are the bonds which continue to tie people to their home towns. Mayer's work reveals how closely the concept of migrancy is related to identity construction. Mayer's focus on migrancy grew out of his dissatisfaction with the models of ‘alternation’ and ‘detribalisation’ to explain aspects of the process of urbanisation. Mayer did not include an analysis of return visits in his model of ties to the homeland. It is easy to see how the visit home might affect the degree of commitment to and identification with the home town. The view that those individuals who do not return to their home town become urban or lose their ties to homeland needs to be questioned. The regularity and frequency of return visits made by San Fiorese who are settled in Perth suggests that permanent settlement does not necessarily mean loss of ties to homeland. Micaela di Leonardo, in her study of kinship, class, and gender among California Italian-Americans, approaches Mayer's theory of extra- and within-town ties when she contrasts Italian-American

migrant’ settlement patterns.** Di Leonardo describes some migrants

as having an Italy-based settlement pattern where their objective is to make enough capital to be able to return to Italy to settle. Other migrants have an America-based settlement strategy characterised by investments and an interest in learning English, indicating the desire to remain permanently in America. Di Leonardo notes that the settlement strategy changes often, particularly as most emigrants arrive believing they will eventually repatriate but end up settling in the host country. Although, like Mayer, di Leonardo does not deal with return visits, she does offer a theory of ethnic identity that is not based on the pull of the homeland but rather a complex relationship between economic conditions and family life cycle. In line with Orsi, I believe that ‘family reasons’ are central to the connections between San Fiorese in Italy and in Australia. However,

my data show that emigrant San Fiorese also visit Italy for reasons other than those to do with family. Visits to Italy inform what it is to be Italian in Australia and are therefore central to the expression of ethnic

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identity. The repatriates 1 spoke to who had relinquished their Italian citizenship to become Australians had all experienced difficulty regaining it upon their return. Legal citizenship and residency rights, of course, do not determine an individual's identification with place. Legal rights are experienced, however, as a challenge to one’s right to belong and many migrants were unhappy about their failed attempts to obtain dual citizenship. Despite the turmoil over citizenship, provincial, regional and national identification are relatively recent phenomena occurring with the development of Italy as a modern state. San Fior is about 50 kilometres (a one-hour train ride) from Venice.

Shortly after my arrival I visited that famous city with an Italian friend. Walking through the tourist area of Venice I noticed a stand of T-shirts on display. The T-shirts sported the words, ‘Italians do it better’, made famous by the popstar, Madonna. I commented on how popular the T-shirts were among Italo-Australian youth in Perth. My friend was surprised at this, explaining that in Italy such a phrase made no sense at all. For it to make sense to an Italian, it would have to say, ‘I do it better!

(or perhaps northerners or Veneti or Trevisani or even San

Fiorese). The T-shirts personified the creation of an international Italian identity or ‘consumer Italy’, a process which has been described as ‘the commodification of elements of culture by capital and their incorporation in everyday life through the consumption process’.23 Although, as my friend pointed out to me, the T-shirts were largely irrelevant to Italians within Italy, the fact that they are sold in Venice to tourists indicates that Italians are keenly aware of Italy's international

image. Douglas Holmes, in his study of Rubignacco, a town in Friuli,

noted that the identities of the young were increasingly shaped by a broad spectrum of national and international influences rather than being rooted in the Church, as was perhaps the case in the past: ‘Increasingly, the Rubignacchesi share a cosmopolitan Italian identity that allows them to move within the national society—to adopt its styles and cliches—while forgoing the distinctive language and customs that sustained their parochial community’.** From studies such as this one it is clear that significant changes have occurred in the way Italians identify with their homeland. Although Italy has developed a strong and generally positive national identity, this national identity has not lessened identification at the local level. John Agnew argues that Italy has never been strongly homogenised by an Italian national culture and cites as evidence the electoral success of essentially local and regional political movements such as the Lega Lombarda (Lombard League).?°

Any discussion of Italian identity requires an understanding of Italian history. The notion of a unified Italy is problematic. Victor Emmanuel

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Il declared the formation of the kingdom of Italy in 1861 with its Risorgimento (Unification), and became the first king of Italy. Prior to this, the Italian peninsula had been divided, from about 1200, into smaller republics, dukedoms and kingdoms. Unification inspired the famous statement attributed to d’Azeglio, an ex-prime minister of Piedmont: ‘We have made Italy, now we must make the Italians’. Today, this ‘unity’ of an Italian people is still far from a reality. Italy exists largely as a myth, a creation.

Antonio Gramsci identified three antitheses in his writings about the Italian state: real Italy and legal Italy (or popular and administra-

tive); the north/south divide; and the urban/rural split.2° A fourth can

be added to this list: Italy and its emigrant communities. Given these antitheses it is impossible to speak of a single, national ‘Italian identity’ except perhaps in an international context. The Italian symbols of national identity provide even more evidence of the many Italies. For example, ‘cultural Italy—the Italy of Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio—

is a historical and literary Italy that had little contact with the common people. Today’s ‘consumer Italy’ has a national identity only in an international context. Consumer Italy is created by advertisements in which the stylish, sophisticated, romantic image of Italian fashion is promoted.

The fashion houses of Gucci, Valentino and Armani, as well as international

industries like Fiat, promote

‘il look Italiano’, whether

in a

leather shoe or a luxury car. The popularity of consumer Italy is also employed in the sale of non-lItalian products like the Madonna-inspired T-shirts mentioned above. A more obvious example of this false Italian product identification is the Australian-produced Bisleri mineral water, advertised in the

Italo-Australian Tempo Libero magazine as ‘the water Italians in Italy prefer to drink’. The first time I went to a restaurant in Italy, I ordered mineral water. The waiter asked me what kind of mineral water I wanted and proceeded to list all the available brands—San Pellegrino, Fiuggi, Fierelli, and so on. I interrupted him and asked for Bisleri, at which point he and my companions laughed. No one had ever heard

of it!

Soccer is nominated as Italy's greatest national symbol. It is said that the only time Italians felt united was when they won the World Cup in 1982. However, this unity is presented only in the international setting

of World Cup Soccer. There is no sense of unity when a southern Italian soccer team plays in a northern Italian town. For example, when Napoli met Verona in 1989, banners saying ‘welcome to Italy’ and ‘welcome to the North Africans’ were unfurled. Identification on a national

level, then, hardly exists inside

Italy. When

it does it is

invariably qualified by the north/south divide. An Italian is either a

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Polentone (northerner) or a Terrone (southerner). Terroni is a pejorative

and condescending term. The word Terrone is derived from terra (earth/

soil) and the implication is base, primitive, low-life. Polentone is less pejorative, and refers to the fact that polenta (maize porridge) was once the dietary staple of the inhabitants of northern Italy. This north/south level of identification finds expression when people discuss the condition of Italy in political and economic terms. It is a prejudice which grew out of Unification, evident in the conception of ‘il problema del mezzogiorno’ (the southern problem). The north is more economically productive than the south and consequently northerners are forever complaining about how they have to bear the debts of the

south. Rather than nominate the very real economic poverty and high

unemployment of the south, or admit to the impact of the vicissitudes of history—according to most commentators, the south was in fact conquered by the north—northern Italians place blame on the ‘lazy and apathetic’ southerners for their economic disadvantage.?’

To compensate for the difficulties in the south since the 1950s,

there has been much migration of its inhabitants to the industrial centres in the north. This internal migration creates potentially explosive situations because southern Italians working in the north are seen by locals as ‘taking jobs’.?8 There are regular episodes of violence, particularly in Milan, between

southern-born

and local youths. A common

sight in the city is racist graffiti like ‘Terroni go home’, which is similar to the ‘wog go home’ slogan familiar to Australia? By far the most extreme evidence of the north/south divide is the political aim of the Lega Nord whose more radical members want the northern regions of Piedmont and Lombardy to secede from the rest of Italy. Not all the perceived differences between northerners and southerners amount to prejudice. The south and north of Italy do have different histories. Past events have fostered and maintained cultural subgroups that do not easily share the same symbols, myths, memories and values. Perhaps the best indication of the cultural diversity within Italy is language; the variety of dialects reveals the deep cleavages in

Italian society.*° Standard Italian, the official written language of Italy, is learnt by virtually everyone as a second language in school. Dialect, almost everyone’ first language, is specific to the region with provincial and even town variations. Finally, popular Italian is essentially an Italianised dialect. Dialect words are replaced with the standard Italian

words but without a change in the dialect’s intonation, syntax or grammar. The variety of dialects reveals the deep cleavages in Italian society. Indeed, the greatest problem for the Unification of Italy was the lack of a common language. At the time of Unification, only a tiny percentage of the population was literate. Everyone communicated in

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83

their own dialect. These dialects have their own unique syntax and grammar; they represent a particular way of perceiving the world and personify a specific reality. Italy is divided into twenty regions, some of which were created relatively recently. Historically, borders have been changed most often in those regions that are in close proximity to neighbouring countries. The Veneto, for example, changed from Austrian to Italian rule twice in the nineteenth century. In addition, there are zones in Switzerland,

Slovenia and Croatia that are culturally Italian. My first insight into identification at the regional level occurred during one of the several gruelling fruit-vending runs on which I accompanied my uncle into the mountainous zones of Friuli. As we crossed the Friuli/Veneto border on our way home after a particularly long trip, my uncle remarked not that finally we were back home, but that finally we were back in Italy: ‘finalmente siamo tornati in Italia’! Besides language, other markers of cultural diversity are the popular traditions and religious feste. Religious and popular traditions vary from village to village, but they may also occur along regional and provincial lines. An analysis of religion in Italy reveals yet another antithesis— that between popular (of the people) and ‘papal’ (decrees of the Vatican). Throughout history the two orientations have always been separate. Prior to Unification, localism was much more tolerated by the Church. An example of a popular religious tradition (by popular I mean one that is not specified by the formal religious calendar) that is exclusive to the Veneto region is the Pan e Vin feast of the epiphany. The Veneto region comprises seven provinces (see map, p. 16) and

each of these is represented in a popular saying or detto: Veneziani, gran signori

Venetians, great gentlemen

Vicentini, magna gati

Vicentians, cat eaters

Veronesi, tuti mati

Veronese, all mad

Radicioni da Treviso Co Rovigo no me intrigo E Belun? Po’re Belun Te se’ proprio de nesun!

Radicchio eaters from Treviso With Rovigo, I don’t get involved And Belluno? Poor Belluno You belong to no one!

Padovani, gran dotori

Paduans, great doctors

This saying reflects the popular histories of the provinces. Venice has historically been a place of wealth and power. Padua has one of the oldest schools of medicine in Italy. The poverty of the surrounding countryside, experienced in the past, is evoked by the cat-eaters from Vicenza. Radicchio (a type of chicory) grows very well in Treviso and is rarely absent from the table. The unwillingness to negotiate with

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people from Rovigo alludes to their political history. Rovigo was the only Veneto province that was not held by the Christian Democrat

party.>! Poor old ‘ownerless’ Belluno refers to its tug-o-war history of changing borders. Detti such as the one quoted above reflect something of the oral history of the people. The detti associated with San Fior reveal something of the social construction of identity at the level of the town. Every province promotes its own cultural traditions and commercial products. In Treviso local produce is collectively known as La Marca

Trevigiana. At the 1989 World Expo held in Brisbane, Australia, there

was no single Italian pavilion; rather delegates from different provinces, including Treviso, promoted the produce from their own particular provinces.

The various levels of Italian identification 1 have described are all

reflected in the immigrant community in Australia. The nation, region,

province and comune represent four levels of administration in Italy and emigrant organisations exist at each level. According to Richard and Michal Bosworth: ‘This multitude of clubs seems a sort of microcosm of the very idiosyncratic, multiparty, multi-faction, “clientalistic” political system which has operated in Italy since the fall of Fascism’. At the national level there is political representation for Italians overseas through the Consiglio Generale Italiani all’Estero (CGIE). Delegates from each country with a significant Italian population are voted onto this committee to provide representation to the Italian government. Italian government funding for Italians overseas, the bulk of which is spent on Italian cultural and welfare organisations, is administered through this body. A non-government organisation, called Associazione Nazionale Emigranti ed ex Emigranti in Australia e Paesi d’Oltre Oceano (ANEA), an association for migrants and ex-migrants of Australia, also exists at the

national level. In Australia, the majority of Italian social clubs are constructed along regional lines. Laguna, for example, is ostensibly a Veneto club. I have already described the workings of the provincial migrant associations like the Associazione Trevisani nel Mondo (ATM). The ATM has an office in most capital cities in Australia as well as in Canada, Argentina and Brazil, and a central office in Treviso.

To some extent, the migrant associations in Italy determine the type

of associations present in the host country. Italy-based associations are not, however, the most popular in Australia. Broadly speaking, the regional clubs and patron saint organisations are an aspect of Gramsci’s

‘real Italy’, while the university ‘language and culture’ societies, for

example the Dante Alighieri societies, represent ‘legal Italy’. The primary distinction between these associations is class-based, with the

lower social classes comprising the regional clubs and the elite or

ail

a

One San Fiorese family in Perth (above) has named their house San Fior; another has built in the style of houses in San Fior today.

a

ae an ba

aHWn

Posters of koalas and kangaroos and wall-hangings with Australian wildflower motifs decorate Grazia’s home.

A man who has hung an oil painting of the church in San Fior in the entrance of his home in Perth points out the house in which he was

horn

These young people in Perth identify as Italian through their dress and behaviour, 1986.

The central frazione of Tarzo

Lincontro: this statue in Tarzo is a bronze representation of the ‘return’ or

‘homecoming’.

Two medallions commemorating the annual Festa dell’Emigrante bear images of the environs of Tarzo as well as the name of the festa and the year. The ATM medallion (above right) is inscribed with the date of the meeting and an image of the church in Tarzo, with a swallow in flight.

The ALM Australian Youth Tour Group visits the monument to the emigrated in Magnacavallo in 1990.

AU

alien

ae

The Tirano monument is a stylised bronze

structure depicting people in movement.

The memorial to the ‘fortune-seeker’ in

Innisfail, Queensland

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85

intelligentsia comprising the cultural societies. Helen Andreoni makes the point that the ‘Northerner’ stereotype in Australia has been associated with the cosmopolitan,

elitist and cultured class, while the

stereotype of the ‘Southerner’ is that of the Italian peasant from the

poverty-stricken South.*? The differences in the type of language used

and the activities undertaken reflect these class distinctions. Different again are the various state Italian clubs, which are a curious symbol of Italo-Australia. These clubs are the oldest Italian associations in Australia and their existence reflects the histories of both Fascist Italy and Australia’s assimilationist migration policies. The WA Italian Club, for example, was founded in 1937 as La Casa di Italia—born out

of the Fascist ideology of the day which promoted a united Italy.3* This form of anti-regionalism was, albeit for different reasons, promoted by Australian government policy, which for a time made it difficult to build regional clubs ‘for fear of structural pluralism’.>° Being the only Italian venue in Perth, the WA Italian Club was very popular in the 1950s and 1960s, especially for its Saturday evening dances. With the advent of mass Italian immigration and the watering down of assimilationist policies, structural pluralism in the form of regional and

provincial clubs and associations began to take shape.*© By the 1980s,

once the regional clubs had developed and built their own clubhouses, the popularity of the state clubhouse declined—especially for family entertainment, which became the preserve of the regional and other clubs.?” The WA Italian Club is still used for official consular functions but has become very much the preserve of ‘legal Italy’. In 1992, yet another level of emigrant organisation was established. Children born to migrants from the thirteen provinces of the Triveneto (Three Venices), which includes the three north-eastern regions of the Veneto,

Friuli Venezia

Giulia and Trento, were invited to form the

Unione Triveneti Nel Mondo (UTRIM). The establishment of this youth group was promoted with seed funding by the Cassamarca Foundation of Treviso and branches exist throughout the Italian diaspora. A number of international conferences have been held and the Perth branch has been relatively active. UTRIM is the first organisation specifically for youth to have developed largely independently of the existing migrant organisations. One of the aims of the association is to encourage members to identify themselves specifically as Triveneto. Other aims are to promote cultural exchange and develop business ties. In Australia, the grouping together of second generation Triveneti is somewhat artificial as young Italo-Australian social networks tend not to be delineated along regional lines. As Gerald Gold astutely points out, ‘transnational cultural communications transmitted through governments

[or, in the case of the Cassamarca, private foundations] tend to

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be secular in the sense that they are removed from their cultural context

and are much more open to external control, and even to falsification’.?8

To date, the most popular associations are those that, like the Laguna Veneto Club, have been developed by the migrants themselves based on micro ethnic networks established on hometown village and local (Australian) neighbourhood ties. As Silverman puts it: ‘The town claims an identity distinguishing it from others, pivoted upon a church and underlined in public ritual and in a folklore of public terms, names,

proverbs and traditions’.>?

Each Italian province is divided into many comuni. Each comune is

made up of various frazioni. The word for town in Italian—paese—is

used to refer to both comuni and frazioni. The word Paese is also used as a general reference for Country (as in nation). The semantic ambiguity of paese reflects the various levels of identification. Historically, one’s paese was not only one’s town, but one’s country and ultimately one’s world in the sense that it defined one’s relationships and experiences. Tellingly, the word for lost (as in being lost or to lose one’s way) is spaesato, literally to be out of one’s town. Julian Pitt-Rivers’s description of the Spanish word pueblo (people) reveals the same variation in meaning.*° Anthony Cohen comments on the connection between pueblo or paese and one’s sense of self, explaining that the ‘contrastive sense of

the community feeds back also into its sense of self’.*! Pitt-Rivers’s

identification of the sentiment of attachment to the pueblo is seen by Cohen to: mask a marvellous complexity. The ‘pueblo’ denotes not only the territorial entity of the village, but also its social reality: its solidary spirit and collective opinion. The pueblo, in this respect, is the people. But all of the people? Well, only in so far as the village distinguishes itself, or is distinguished from, other villages. The population of the village is itself divided, although the nature of its divisions is somewhat elusive.*?

The economic and social changes that have occurred in Italy over the past fifty years, in particular the rate of migration and the development of Italy’s national and international identity, have meant that one’s paese is no longer one’s world. These changes have affected the way people construct their town identity.

San Fior: from rags to riches A striking

feature

of San

Fior

is that, wherever

you

look,

there

is

evidence of the old, either leaning in a dilapidated state against the new, or renovated in stark contrast to it. Impressive showrooms full of

The Many Italies

87

the latest technological achievements flank corn fields. The empty shell of an old farmhouse stands side by side with the family’s new villa, while the old silk factory has been renovated into a museum. This combination of old and new is reflected in the language of the locals, with the elderly speaking dialect and some, though not all, of the young speaking standard Italian. Everywhere there is evidence of the industrial boom of the 1960s which transformed the Veneto region from a place of poverty into a place of development. The comune of San Fior covers an area of 17.77 square kilometres, skirting the hills to the north that mark the beginning of the pre-alps. It comprises three frazioni: Castello di Roganzuolo, San Fior di Sopra, and San Fior di Sotto, which earlier were separate villages in their own rights. Topographically, the comune can be classified into three zones— a hilly zone to the north, an upper plain in the centre, and a lower plain to the south—which correspond almost exactly to the three frazioni. Castello di Roganzuolo occupies the hilly zone (at an average of 118 metres above sea level) and some of the upper plane (at an average of 69 metres above sea level) with a total area of 6.81 square kilometres. Consequently, two ‘Castellos’ exist in popular parlance— Castello Alto (which loosely translates as ‘higher Castello’) and Castello

Basso (‘lower Castello’). San Fior di Sopra shares the upper plain with Castello Basso, occupying a total area of only 3.62 square kilometres.

San Fior di Sotto is situated on the lower plain (at an average of 28

metres above sea level) occupying a total area of 7.34 square kilometres. The ancient Roman road, Via Ongaresca (from Hungary), is the boundary divide between San Fior di Sotto and San Fior di Sopra. Running parallel to this boundary, in the territory of San Fior di Sotto, is the Venice—Udine railway line. The comune is profoundly affected by the Napoleonic road (now a state highway) that connects Venice, Treviso, Conegliano (in the Veneto), Pordenone, Udine (in Friuli) and

the former Yugoslavia. This four-lane highway carries a continual procession of road trains and divides the frazione of San Fior di Sopra in two. Crossing the state highway which runs north-south connecting

Venice and Udine,

5 kilometres from the centre of San Fior, is the

Cadore-Mare highway, connecting Conegliano to the Adriatic Sea

Qesolo) in the east and to Calalzo (Dolomites) in the west.

San Fior di Sopra is by far the most densely populated frazione, occupying the smallest area and yet having the greatest number of residents. Conversely, San Fior di Sotto has the smallest number of residents despite occupying the greatest area. Even though it is the smallest frazione, San Fior di Sopra is the ‘head’ frazione (capoluogo), with the town hall and municipal offices in its environs. Although its position does not represent an equal division according to the number

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of inhabitants either side of it, San Fior di Sopra does lie in a central

position between Castello di Roganzuolo (1.5 kilometres distant) and San Fior di Sotto (slightly less than 2 kilometres distant). Castello Roganzuolo extends in part over hilly terrain which is also the best agricultural land in the comune. Since the 1960s, Castello has undergone rapid industrialisation which effected a change from a predominantly agricultural livelihood to factory work. Members of most families do some type of paid factory work in nearby Conegliano and manage their farm land in their spare time. The inhabitants of Castello are considered by the townspeople to be in the best economic situation because they are said to ‘earn money from the factory while they eat and drink from their land’, evidence of their peasant-worker history. Castello Alto is given over entirely to farming although most inhabitants also have some other form of paid employment. The settlement pattern of Castello Alto is one of disseminated farmsteads. Castello Basso has recently become a light industrial zone, a development facilitated by its position along the main road. Castello Basso’s settlement pattern more closely resembles that of San Fior di Sopra than of Castello Alto. The neatly fenced off houses and scattered apartment blocks are more reminiscent of suburbia than of a rural town.

San Fior di Sotto is exclusively agricultural with fewer of its inhabitants in outside employment than is the case in Castello. Cereal crops are cultivated, as are certain vines for wine-making. San Fior di Sotto borders the length of via Palu, a straight stretch of road some 5 kilometres long. Its settlement pattern is almost totally disseminated farmsteads except for a small, though expanding, centre of new houses. Di Sotto is about 5 kilometres from the main road and is consequently a much quieter place. Most of the traffic through the frazione is local. As ‘head’ frazione,

San Fior di Sopra contains

the town

hall with

attendant council offices, public archives, library, primary school, convent and an array of specialty shops which form the town nucleus. Very little farming takes place in San Fior di Sopra except for family vegetable gardens. The town centre is undisputedly on the side of the main highway on which the church, piazza and council buildings are situated. Both San Fior di Sopra and Castello Roganzuolo have an elementary school, kindergarten, post office and newsagents, while each

frazione has a bar, bakery, butcher, delicatessen, and cemetery. San Fior

di Sopra is today the most industrialised of the three frazioni. the past, di Sopra was never very agricultural and was popularly as a town of commercianti (dealers). A town’s identity is constructed by its inhabitants and inhabitants of neighbouring towns. Some towns are nominated

Even in known by the in local

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detti that are well known throughout the region. Many towns have a specific identity or character, usually reflecting an historic pursuit or occupation.*3 Corbanese, for example, a frazione of Tarzo, is known as a ‘fruit vendors’ town due to the high numbers of inhabitants thus employed, while San Fior di Sopra is known as a town of strazér (this is the dialect word for the Italian, straccivendoli)—rag-collectors. The popular saying listed below identifies San Fior with this occupation: ravanei da San Iacon

paramis da San Martin scus da Cole strazér da Santa Fior

turnips of St Giacomo

donkey keepers of St Martin bald men of Colle Umberto rag collectors of San Fior

The reference to San Fior does not apply to the whole comune but to the historic village that is today San Fior di Sopra. Although every town is nominated in a popular saying, only a minority of these sayings reflect the history and identity of the town. Comparing the sayings relating to Colle Umberto and San Fior, the latter's history is much more widely known. Colle Umberto’s closest neighbours are undoubtedly familiar with the reference to bald men; however, San Fior'’s rag-collecting fame is recognised as far away as Treviso, the provincial capital (30 kilometres distant). Teresa Zamin, who migrated to Perth in 1951, recalled an incident in a bar in Venice (50 kilometres away from San Fior) during a visit there in 1948. A young Venetian approached her and began to make polite conversation (he began to chat her up’, explained her husband). He asked Teresa where she was from. At her response the young man drew a hasty retreat and warned his companions to ‘keep away, she’s from San Fior’. San Fior di Sopra’s fame is due, in part, to the fact that, from the turn of the century to the 1950s, San Fiorese travelled widely in their

work. My English language students in Vittorio Veneto joked that I had made a mistake by choosing to do fieldwork in San Fior, due to its reputation. Unlike many other towns, there were a host of sayings concerning San Fior di Sopra. The most well-known include: strazér da Santa Fior

rag collectors of San Fior

straze, ose... pél de cunicio _ rags, bones and. . . rabbit skins

I pianta fazdi e nase ladri!

They sow beans and thieves sprout!**

The first saying refers to the customary occupation of the inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra—ambulatory collectors of rags, bones, rabbit skins and scrap metal. According to local historians (and the elders in San Fior), before and just after World War I there were two pre-alpine towns famous for rag and bone collectors—San Martino di Lipari (in Pordenone, Friuli) and San Fior:

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Rag and bone collector was the customary job of the inhabitants of San Fior. The collectors travelled through the local towns collecting the families’ cheap throw offs, scraps and discarded items, which mainly consisted of rags (which were then recycled), bones (to make soap), dried rabbit skins from rabbits which were usually bred at home and used for household consumption (the skins were sold to furriers) and scrap iron to be recast. The ambulatory collectors went about with their wheelbarrows and invited the townspeople to trade

their recyclable wastes with the above cited sing-song.*>

The second saying is the actual call used by the rag collectors on their rounds. Travelling by foot with some form of wheelbarrow, they would enter a borgo or group of houses and call out: ‘Rags, bones, rabbit skins!’, inviting people to do business with them. Scrapmetal

collection still continues today in San Fior di Sopra.

The third saying also relates to the ambulatory trade of the inhabitants of di Sopra and the commonly held belief that they would pay as little as possible for the ‘old stuff’ that people sold to them. In this manner they became known as exploiters and thieves. The third saying is still considered, by those who use it, to be relevant to the present-

day occupation of many of the inhabitants. Most of the men in San

Fior di Sopra are commercianti—dealers or middlemen. This is not necessarily their only job, as many also work in factories or have some form of white-collar employment, and a few own farm land. The sayings are used in joking relations between inhabitants of San

Fior.*© Shortly after my first visit there I was invited out to a disco with some of the young people in the town. Although I had heard reference

to ‘the thieves of San Fior’ from outsiders I had never heard mention of it by the San Fiorese themselves. On this particular evening we all met at Stefania and Lisa’s house. We were waiting in the lounge room for Stefania to find her coat and while she searched for it in her bedroom

her cousin joked that we could be waiting a long time as the thieves from San Fior might have taken it. I asked for an explanation and one

of our party thought I should not be told as it was brutta fama (ugly

fame or bad press). However, they ended up recounting some of the sayings associated with San Fior, because they figured if I did not

already know of them, I would surely find out soon. All these sayings are generally quoted in the dialect but I have listed them, as they were told to me, in standard Italian:

un paese di ladri Piantano fagioli con una mitra o pistola.

a town of thieves They plant beans with a machine gun or pistol.

The Many Italies

Hanno un braccio pit lungo dell’alto.

They have one arm longer than the other.

Il pit onesto @ andato al mercato

The most honest [man from San

per comprare un s’era accorto solo tornato che c’era legata. Non hanno cimitero

Fior] went to market to buy some rope. He only realised when he got home that it had a cow attached to it. They have no cemetery [in San Fior]

po’ di spago, quando era una mucca perche tutti

muoiono in prigione.

91

because everyone dies in prison.

When I discussed these sayings with an informant in Australia, she replied with one I had not heard in Italy: ‘I vecchi ci hanno lasciato i detti, ma si sono tenuti i soldi’ (The old people left us the sayings, but they kept the money). In San Fior today, the only evidence of the rag and bone collecting of the past are the four enormous scrap iron heaps, which, for at least four families in the town, provide a highly successful business. Many of the roads in San Fior di Sopra are flanked with scrapmetal piles and the streets of the town are frequently crowded with pick-up trucks. As for the validity of the thief claims, the only major theft that occurred during my stay was an armed robbery of the post office, which did not involve locals. Earlier this decade some paintings were stolen from the church, but again, the thieves were not locals. Instances

of petty theft were frequent; bikes were often stolen as well as items from unlocked cars, such as radios or purses. According to the police, there was no more theft in San Fior than in any other town of similar size and position. The ‘thief’ claims refer more to the cunning business nature of the inhabitants and represent one of the ways in which the identity of the town is socially constructed. Yet another claim about the town links the cunning business nature of its inhabitants to Gypsy origins.

The frazione of San Fior di Sopra is popularly believed to have been settled originally by a band of Gypsies. Many inhabitants of di Sopra disagree with this foundation myth. They argue that the travel mode and manner of arrival in the area of people ‘in those days’, with carts and barrows, gave the impression of a band of Gypsies, ‘but they were really just travellers and decent folk’. There is a great deal of negative press concerning the Gypsy presence in Italy, which would explain why the San Fiorese do not care to be associated with them. Some inhabitants from di Sopra accept that there are descendants of Slavic people in the frazione and they note the fact that many surnames in the town, for example Covre, have Slavic origins. They insist, however, that the Slavic people were not Gypsies but simply a nomadic people.

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The Gypsy origin story is reinforced and supported by the former rag and bone collector livelihood of the inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra which is compared to the begging of Gypsies. The various sayings concerning the exploitative nature of the San Fiorese rag collectors are very similar to those concerning Gypsies. Both ‘types’ are said to have one arm longer than the other, the longer arm for receiving or taking goods, the shorter arm for giving payment. They are believed to be dishonest, untrustworthy and extremely cunning. Gypsies are said to covet the goods of others even if they have no need for them. In addition, Gypsies are thought to live by their own laws and to do as they please. One woman, Luigina, who came to live in the town after she married a San Fiorese, recalled her mother’s dismay at her father’s business relations with San Fior in the 1950s: San Fior had a bad name once, people said they were robbers but they lived the only way they could—in poverty. They were forced to steal food from paddocks. Stealing due to need, begging by necessity. I know people who are rich now who once went begging ... My father once brought a cow from San Fior. We were living in a town 20 kilometres away. My mother was upset, ‘What have you gone and done getting involved with those people from San Fior?’ They were risky dealers, the cow might have been stolen or ill. They'd offer a guarantee in straight lies ... They’re like that because many years ago a caravan of Gypsies arrived and set up camp there and never left. The people are Gypsies.

Given the historical importance of the Church in defining local

identity and campanilismo, it is not surprising to find that the most

influential and powerful opposition to the thief identity was provided

by the local priest. Don Giovanni was the parish priest of San Fior di Sopra from the late 1940s to the late 1970s. He is now retired and living in the town. With a typical insider's view he defends the morality of the San Fiorese and explains their ‘ugly fame’: ‘When I was asked to go to San Fior in 1947, just after the war, it came as a little shock to me. The bishop explained, “I don’t know who to send”. San Fior had a bad name and was known as the “town of thieves”. Nobody wanted to go there.’

The ‘ugly fame’ was undoubtedly also associated with the fact that

the comune, at that time, was communist. ‘When I arrived in San Fior

there was this miseria (poverty) straight after the war’, explained the priest. ‘However, it was a town whose bad fame was misleading.

I’ve

never found such a generous town.’ In direct contradiction to the sayings, Don Giovanni told me he liked the ‘sincerity of the people’. He took pains to describe the inhabitants as honest people. When I

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93

asked him about the thief myth, Don Giovanni recounted the infamous tactic used by the San Fiorese known as ‘playing Armando’: The business of collecting rags, bone, rabbit skins and so on, meant

having to buy these goods. If they didn’t buy these things to sell later, they didn’t eat. The women were mainly involved in buying rabbit skins. Not buying meant hunger. So what they did, because the price to them was always too high, was play ‘Armando’. As they weighed the goods they would ask the vendor ‘Hey look, there's Armando?’ The vendors moved their eyes away in that instance to look for Armando and in the meantime the buyer moved the scale’s weights to cheat the price. There was a bit of cheating, there needed to be, or else no buying would have been possible. Occasionally I would preach during my homily, ‘try to do little Armando’. They did this cheating on a small scale, never big amounts.

Like Luigina, Don Giovanni challenges the thief/Gypsy motif by describing the abject poverty in which the San Fiorese lived: ‘I'd meet them on the street exhausted, loaded with rags’. Don Giovanni wanted

to keep their spirits up so he would preach at mass that ‘in San Fior it is not only a sin to cheat but to be cheated’. People would confess that they ‘did Armando’ and Don Giovanni would reply jokingly that they would be forgiven if they tried to repay their cheating. However, if they came to him to say they had been cheated, he would not absolve them but would ‘order’ them to ‘change towns’. Many inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra find the stories of the Gypsy origins and thief identity insulting. They defend the character of the town by maintaining that ‘Gypsies visit every town and that thieves are where you don’t know’. In contrast to the ‘ugly fame’ of the town, there is a side to the San Fiorese character that is considered positive. The San Fiorese are also admired (and secretly envied) for their ingenuity.

There are a number of expressions used to describe the industrious and hardworking nature of the inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra. An expression I heard often, even from individuals who fervently professed the thief nature of the San Fiorese, was ‘si danno da fare’, (figuratively, they are hardworking/ingenious/industrious; literally, they find them-

selves things to do). The diligence and hard work required to make a living from other people's cast-offs is applauded as industrious. When outsiders lament the dishonest wheeling and dealing of the San Fiorese,

there is also a sense of amazement and even awe at their shrewdness. Gypsies, too, are famous for their ability to ‘rob you with a smile’. They, like the inhabitants of di Sopra, have a quality that is very highly

regarded in Italian culture: they are said to be furbi, or cunning/clever.*7

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If you out-smart your opponent, even unlawfully, you are said to be clever and respected for your cunning. The positive fame of the hardworking, ingenious inhabitants of di Sopra is ironically contained within their negative fame. The most common saying used by inhabitants of di Sopra themselves was ‘mattina presto, bicicletta’ (literally, early morning, bike). This saying is an abbreviation for ‘rise early and take your bike ready for a long, hard day’s work’. This expression indicates a shared experience of life and a communally constructed past. ‘Early morning, bike’ signifies the lifestyle of the rag collectors. It is used in the modern setting to refer to hard work. More often than not it is used as a joke to chide people who are thought to have ‘easy’ jobs. (Grazia invariably greeted me in this way when I

slept in.) It is also used to commend

individuals for

their diligence. The manner in which people use the saying implies a comparison with ‘the good old days’, which were hard times ‘when people knew what hard work was’. The contradiction implicit in this comparison is that although life was hard and work was tough, life is thought to have been better and the people more furbi and therefore more respected; after all, as ambulatory traders they were their own bosses. Teofilo Gobbato,

a local historian who

lives in a town about

20

kilometres from San Fior, described the San Fiorese in glowing terms: San Fior is a little particular in that its people ‘si é sempre dato da fare’ [have been industrious] in a manner different to any other town... . They have always been people who have worked hard in a different way to others. The benessere [affluence] that they enjoy today is due to this way of theirs, this great capacity that they have to get things done. The collectors travelled by bicycle trailing a carriage, or on foot with a cart. Today they have formed companies and use large trucks. The

San

Fiorese

character

is redeemed

through

accounts

like

this,

which rationalise the need for shrewd business in the face of la miseria. The social conditions of la miseria—extreme poverty and lack of productive agricultural land—meant that people had no choice but to enter commerce. The implication is that these people survived due to their ingenuity and hard work, where others might have perished. Rags and old iron were collected from far and wide—as far west as Lombardy. The commercial initiatives of the inhabitants were suited to the position of the town on the main highway and, for the first half of the twentieth century, San Fior held a weekly market.

The most significant feature of rag and bone collecting, dealing or

being a commerciante is that they are all forms of self-employment.

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95

Being one’s own boss is perhaps the ultimate achievement of furberia, especially in a zone where the main form of livelihood was subsistence sharecropping. Franco Zamin, a Perth immigrant who attributes his considerable financial success in Australia to his San Fiorese character,

says of di Sopra that: ‘No one sleeps there. They don’t go to sleep because when they go to bed, they have one foot on the pavement and one eye open’.

Another lucrative and common business found in San Fior di Sopra, which may also have its origins in the rag collecting past, is that of tailoring. In di Sopra, in 1989, there were five small, privately owned

garment factories, each with about ten employees. Today the zone is famous for its garment industry and, in particular, the factories of Luciano Benetton, who is himself from Treviso. There are many dressmakers in San Fior and two very successful San Fiorese tailors in Perth, including Grazia’s son, Guido

Zamin, who

owns an expensive

men’s boutique in the Perth CBD. The most successful tailor in San Fior di Sopra, Umberto, counts among his best clients four families of San Fiorese migrants in Perth. Umberto describes the development of the trade in di Sopra: The rag collecting, it seems, led to tailoring. San Fior is a town of dressmakers because where there are good dressmakers, others come

to learn. If you wanted a specialised trade there were only a few possibilities: construction and dressmaking. Agriculture existed here but was never much of a money-maker. Factories were more successful. In San Fior there was a special school for dressmakers. At one time men sewed for men and women for women and everyone had to go to a dressmaker for clothes. It began to change in the midsixties.

The vast majority of tailors in San Fior have been overtaken by the myriad small factories throughout the region that sew consignments for a variety of international firms, including Benetton. Other employers are based in Germany, Switzerland and Austria. These factories are often run by women as an extra family business. Many are contained in one or two rooms of a family house. On average, ten women between the ages of fifteen and thirty are employed. A production line is established and certain jobs are separated—cutting, sewing, ironing and packing. These private factories are the subject of controversy in Italy. They are frequently inadequately equipped with lighting, heating, ventilation or safe appliances. The consignments often reach the small, private factory through a larger factory that cannot cope with an order. Invariably, the workers are under pressure to complete a consignment

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in a short amount of time. The work is tedious and demoralising. The workers know each other and their bosses very well because they often live in the same town and their families have done so for generations. Employers are often under stress from the factories they, in turn, are responsible to, and any tensions or arguments with their employees tend to quickly degenerate to personal attacks. Some of the young women I met in factory employment would take general analgesics, such as paracetamol, with their breakfast. Their complaints were endless, including not having time to go to the bathroom, suffering cold or heat, not being able to breathe clean air and being over-worked, and

pay owed to them was in arrears by at least one month. The advantages of being one’s own boss are only too evident when compared to this type of factory work. The experiences of these female factory workers are reminiscent of reports about migrant factory and sweat shop workers in Australia.*® The transformation from rag and bone collector to factory worker occurred rapidly in San Fior di Sopra. Despite di Sopra’s lack of productive agricultural land, agriculture was still the biggest employment sector until the 1950s, as it was in all the comuni in Treviso. The transformation from a predominantly agricultural economy to an industrial one began in the late 1960s and affected the entire Veneto region. Historically the Veneto was a very depressed area, once known as the ‘south of the north’.49 Today the Veneto is one of the richest regions in Italy. Two factors contributed to this enormous social and economic transformation. The first was the massive emigration since Unification, and the second was the economic boom of the 1960s.°° During the century from 1871 to 1971, the comune of San Fior grew steadily. In the 1871 census the total population was recorded at 2676 and increased to a total of 4347 in 1921 with an increase of, on average,

300 people per decade. The following thirty years from 1922 to 1951 saw much smaller population increases due largely to emigration. The town grew at its former rate from the 1950s to the 1970s when the rapid expansion of industry made it possible for people to find work at or close to home, and the population was 5475 in 1981. The first decline in total population occurred in the 1980s, due to a drop in the birthrate and a decrease in immigration. The decline in the rate of population growth early last century can be directly attributed to the wave of migration in the 1920s to the Americas and, later, Australia. Although the population was growing in the 1960s, this was also the decade that recorded the greatest difference between population present and absent (around 400), reflecting the large number of people who had left Italy in search of

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work. In 1961, 8 per cent of residents were listed as temporary migrants (this figure does not include those people who were working in nonEuropean countries). In 1971, the percentage fell to 1 per cent. It grew again in the

1980s, however,

with the success of the seasonal ice-

cream trade in Germany. In 1973, a report was compiled on population, employment and future trends for the comune of San Fior.>! The report's authors note the progressive reduction in the size of the nuclear family from 5.2 persons in 1951, to 4.3 in 1961, to 3.7 in 1971. At the same time, they point out the increase in residential requests due to the reduction in family-run farming partnerships, which meant increasing numbers of young people left home to work in factories. Emigration from San Fior had all but ceased by 1973. The vast majority of the hundred or so migrations that occurred in the 1980s and 1990s were seasonal, mainly to Germany, involving ice-cream parlour owners and workers. The report also revealed that the population density of San Fior in 1973 was 288 inhabitants per square kilometre, above the 244 inhabitants per square kilometre average for the Conegliano area. In that region, San Fior was second only to Conegliano itself. The high population density is directly attributed to the industrial character of the comune. Only 14.7 per cent of the total active population in 1973 were engaged in agricultural work, at least five times less than the percentage of agricultural workers twenty years earlier. The second factor was the major expansion that occurred in manufacturing and industrial employment, especially in the north-west, as an ‘economic boom’ drew the Italian economy away from its predominantly agrarian base. The report was written just as the effects of this boom began to take root in the north-east of Italy. John Agnew comments: This new pattern of differentiated economic growth led some commentators to write of the ‘three Italies——a north-west with a concentration of older heavy industries and large factory-scale production facilities, a north-east/centre of small, family-based, export-oriented and component-producing firms, and a still largely underdeveloped south, reliant on government employment but with some of the small-scale development . . . characteristic of the third Italy (north-

easUcentre).>*

The process of restructuring in San Fior brought about a 25 per cent reduction in lavoratori in proprio (farming), an 85 per cent reduction in the number of famigliari coadiuvanti (family farming partnerships) and a 50 per cent reduction in the number of agricultural day labourers.** The preference for seeking non-agricultural work had

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significantly decreased the participation of the young in agricultural pursuits. This trend continued into the 1980s. According to the report, the percentage of the population involved in industry in 1973 was greater than the average for the Conegliano area (59 per cent in the comune compared with 56 per cent for the Conegliano area), with the greatest increase in relative terms occurring in the building industry (11.3 per cent in San Fior compared with 9.3 per cent for the area). The biggest employment sector within San Fior since the 1950s has been manufacturing. The increase in industry at the expense of agriculture during the 1960s and 1970s mainly affected the employment of males. Women in San Fior only accounted for 11.6 per cent of the industrial workforce in 1971. Their participation in the workforce has grown, however, with the steady expansion

of commercial activities in San Fior since the 1950s. The increase in industrial activities is most evident in the categories of company employees and hired labourers. The number of selfemployed remained more or less unchanged over the four decades since the war, while the number of day labourers decreased dramatically. During the 1960s and 1970s, there was a significant lack of residents employed in tertiary industry and the freelance professions (the 67 individuals recorded in 1951 as entrepreneurs and freelance professionals were probably people who rented out land to sharecroppers).** This is directly related to the educational qualifications of the population; the number of university graduates significantly increased in the 1970s and 1980s. The number of ambulatory traders is kept in a register in the comune archives. I was unable to ascertain how reliable these records are. It is not clear from the entries if people were obliged to reapply for a permit annually or whether permits were valid for varying amounts of time. The changing totals do, however, suggest a pattern of massive decline, especially in rag and scrap iron collecting, from 128 in 1945 to 33 in 1971.

In 1971, 410 individuals entered San Fior from nearby towns to

work (the greatest number, 100, coming from Conegliano), while 510

residents left San Fior to work in nearby towns (the greatest number, 100, going to Conegliano).®° In percentage terms, 30 per cent of the active population in San Fior were employed outside the town (including temporary migrants). This figure more than doubled the following year, with 68 per cent of the active population finding work outside the comune. At the same time, the number of non-residents employed within the comune decreased to 325. Although residents increasingly need to look for work outside the comune to suit their qualifications, San Fior is still a significant employer. Over half of the non-resident workers in the

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comune had to travel more than 20 minutes from their homes whereas only 10 per cent of San Fior residents working outside the town had to travel that far to work. There is no doubt that the comune of San Fior during the late 1960s experienced, with its neighbours, a rapid and intensive social and economic transformation. San Fior changed from a predominantly agricultural economy (in 1961, 58 per cent of the workforce was engaged in the primary sector) to an industrial one (in 1971, only 16 per cent of the workforce was in agriculture and 62 per cent was in industry). This process was mainly due to an expansion of the industrial activities in Conegliano that generated industry in neighbouring towns, and an increase in tertiary industry within Conegliano that provided work for more qualified personnel and precipitated the transfer of both secondary and tertiary industries to the surrounding townships. The period of heavy migration overseas was directly connected to the decline in the number of family-run farmsteads. The exodus of the young from the land meant that there was an oversupply of labour in San Fior and a corresponding under-supply of productive land, the exact opposite of the situation that existed in Australia, where the under-supply of labour and the vast amounts of uncultivated lands attracted the landless and unemployed from San Fior and other parts of Italy. The elaborate and rigid social hierarchy that characterised feudal Italy and much of Italian society in the past has been levelled out somewhat by the effects of industrialisation and the continuing expansion of the middle class. The economic boom precipitated unprecedented social mobility for the residents of San Fior. As William Douglass notes: ‘any statement concerning the precise nature of the social class hierarchy is necessarily time specific’.>© Douglass represented the social hierarchy of the southern Italian town, Agnone, as a pyramid with the gentry at the apex, followed by, in descending order, the clergy and professionals, merchants, artisans and, finally, at the

base, separated by double lines, the peasants and day labourers. Douglass used double lines to represent the ‘social gulf’ between the peasants and the others. I cannot determine how comparable Douglass’ representation of Agnone is to San Fior in the past because this was not the focus of my research. However, like Silverman,’ I did ask informants to rank their fellow townsmen according to the relative prestige they felt they held in the community. I then asked them to compare their views with what they thought the social class structure was like in the past. In their description of the social hierarchy of the past, the San Fiorese invariably placed the families of Count Lucheschi and Signor Soldi at the top. These families appear to have constituted the only gentry who

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lived in the town in the nineteenth century. They are talked about, however, as though they belonged to another world, far removed from,

and having little to do with, the other inhabitants. The Lucheschi family

moved to Venice after World War II, but their remarkable villa still stands as a testament to their aristocratic existence. The Soldi family also left the town. In the next category, informants listed the local professionals,

all of whom

were

known

by their title and

not their

name: the priest, mayor, doctor and pharmacist. Next came the small number

of land

Together, these elite, the small the rest of the the population

owners,

business

owners

and

the

school

teacher.

categories formed the moneyed classes; they were the minority who had a much better standard of living than town. Finally came everyone else, the vast majority of who were mezzadri (sharecroppers) or day labourers

and, who, despite the distinctions between them, were known collec-

tively as contadini or peasants. From the end of the nineteenth century until the economic boom, at least 70 per cent of San Fior’s population was ostensibly employed in agriculture. This percentage was probably even higher for the frazioni of Castello and di Sotto. Because statistics only exist for the comune as a whole, it is impossible to provide specific information about each frazione. Under the mezzadria system of sharecropping people worked to subsist and profit was minimal. Family incomes were supplemented whenever possible by occasional paid work, and the transition to industrial society was gradual.>® The system of mezzadria ended around 1968.

Silkworm farming was an activity that could be conducted in the home and many families supplemented their livelihoods in this manner. The silk factory, which was established in the early 1900s in the town itself, employed a number of the local women but it closed in 1955.°9 Some women found work in the cotton factory in Conegliano, also established at the turn of the century, and they had to walk 10 kilometres, to and from work, six days a week. There were three main

factories in Conegliano that provided work for men: Zoppas—a light industrial complex established in 1920 which,

today, is one of the

most successful companies in Treviso; Carpené—a distillery which also continues to do well today; and a shoe factory that closed down in the 1980s. Because land in San Fior di Sopra was so poor, little agricultural activity took place there. Census records of occupational structure for San Fior di Sopra are sketchy. The only seemingly complete list of occupations was dated 1948. It is impossible to determine how accurate this list is. However, it does provide an indication of the types of jobs that were available: manual

labourers (112); operai (hired labourers)

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(59); mechanics (28); saw mill employees (26); truck drivers (11); shoe factory employees (6 women, 12 men); carpenters (6); plasterers

(6); farm mechanics (6); silk factory employees (6 women); cotton factory

employees

(5 women);

miners

(5); impiegati

(white-collar

workers) (2). Only one person was listed under each of the following occupations:

cooper;

shop

assistant;

butcher;

metal

worker;

radio

electrician. There were 305 men listed as unemployed. Many people who had no other source of income resorted to rag collecting or migration. Despite the fact that rag collecting was probably never the major source of livelihood for the majority in San Fior, the inhabitants use their rag-collecting past as a way of homogenising the social stratification of inhabitants. They say that ‘everyone, including the doctor's and mayor's parents, used to collect rags’. From the hard but ingenious work of collecting rags the San Fiorese became rich; thus the history of the town is literally a story of rags to riches. The transformation from an agricultural to an industrial economy was not as clear-cut as the census figures imply. The differentiation of San Fiorese into social categories based on type of employment is complicated by the fact that individuals in all types of employment—

professional and non-professional, impiegati and operai, may form part

of a farming household. The blue-collar worker, in particular, is keen to supplement his earnings by cultivating land, if he is lucky enough

to have some, for commercial use. Earlier I referred to the inhabitants

of Castello being envied because they are said to ‘earn money from the factory while they eat and drink from their land’. This combination of agrarian and industrial work is a characteristic of what Holmes calls ‘peasant-worker’ society.6° Holmes’s description of the ‘structural preconditions’ for the development of peasant-worker society were certainly present in Treviso:

Concentration of capital, the presence of a significant land-poor as opposed to landless population, and endemic under- and unemployment, served as the structural preconditions for this adaption ... A Friulian labor career in the early twentieth century could cover episodes of tenant farming, agricultural wage work, local factory employment, seasonal and long-term labor migrations, and retire-

ment back into peasant-farming, now underwritten by the welfare state. Livelihood in this context is not merely an individual concern; it is generally part of broader household strategies sustained by a common commitment to a family-based agrarian holding. From the standpoint of the rural household, members are deployed over the

course of the domestic cycle into agrarian and industrial wage work, mining, construction, domestic service, and a range of scavenging

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activities. Bonds among family and kin serve as the critical interface

between peasant-worker livelihood and social organization.®!

As the 1948 occupation records for San Fior show, inhabitants were engaged in a wide range of employment activities. Holmes warns against the mistaken inference fostered by census data that each occupational role defines a discrete social group. He notes that, through ethnographic data, in particular the collection of life and employment histories, it is clear that these diverse occupational roles are typically only an aspect of peasant-worker livelihood, rather than an exclusive

productive pursuit.

San Fiorese descriptions of the social hierarchy of today paint a very different picture to life before the economic boom. The gentry seem no longer to exist. In their place, at the top of the social ladder, are the socalled cultured people, including professionals, the clergy, the mayor and university graduates. Next come the impiegati or white-collar company employees, followed by the operai or blue-collar workers and farmers. The social classes of today, as those of the past, are differentiated by degrees of perceived cultura. It is important to note, however, that there was some ambiguity about how the categories were defined: according to status based on conspicuous consumption, or according to cultura, based on ascription (birth) and achievement (through, for example, education). Yet, most people agreed that a rich farmer was still in the third class, while an unemployed university graduate was in the first. Distinctions are made between the ‘true’ rich and peasants who have become rich. The ‘true’ rich are those people with upper-class antecedents. San Fior is full of peasant-workers who have become rich through the miracle. The economic boom has meant that the overall living standard of the people has risen substantially and that the lowest social classes have become relatively well off. San Fior has been particularly successful in the 1990s. In 1993, the local social worker could account

for only six ‘poor’ families and they were all recent arrivals from the former Yugoslavia. I was unable to verify how many underprivileged families reside in San Fior. The fact that most people told me there was none is indicative of the myth of success which pervades people's consciousness, rather than a reliable appraisal of the degree of poverty that exists.

Cultural Continuity and Change The San Fiorese I spoke to were continually comparing their present lives with their past in an effort to make some sense of the enormous social and economic changes which had occurred in their lifetimes. As

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Luigina put it: ‘Today the people are more or less the same. We are all factory workers, we live in the same world. In the past you lived in the house not the world. The differences diminished in the 1950s when we all went to work in the factory’. The years of the economic boom have become the dividing line between the past and the present. The era preceding the boom is known as the time of miseria, of poverty and hunger, while the era following the boom is known as a time of benessere, of affluence. Given the enormity and speed of the social transformation, it is no wonder the economic boom that fuelled these

changes has been dubbed il miracolo, the miracle. In my many discussions with townspeople about their lives, I found none more articulate in summing up the changes and developments in the town than Elena, the policewoman, and Luigina, a retired widow and grandmother. Despite the enormous changes, Elena, like many people I spoke to, links the present lifestyle of the inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra directly to their past: The town is full of business dealers, all types of business and commercial activity can be found in di Sopra, including the most desperate movement of all types of goods—furniture, gold, secondhand goods. Every place you look there is a new activity; the people are really traffickers. This is different to Castello or di Sotto; di Sopra

has its origins with the Gypsies. Every family is in some way involved with this trafficking, like rag collecting, it is characteristic of the people of this town ... People right in front of our eyes are up to dealing. [One man], for example, buys wine from someone then redistributes the exact same wine with three different labels, he sells

them as different wines. The town is made like that. San Fior has a bad name due to its Gypsy origins and its trafficking, which is always brought to the very limits of the law.

The way in which people connect the Gypsy origins to the ragcollecting history, because of the wheeling and dealing nature of both, and then attribute the business nature of today’s San Fiorese to this past, tells us more about the contemporary construction of tradition than it does about the actual extent of continuity with the past. It is plausible, of course, that the rag and bone collecting trade led some people to tailoring, but whether this is true or not is irrelevant. Rather, what is at issue is the way the past provides a means of making the present familiar, despite the fact that the present is, in many ways, quite different from the past. Harking back to the past to explain present-day behaviour is a way of establishing continuity and a way of maintaining identity over time. This process.of reappropriation of the past would explain the seeming anomaly of how the San Fiorese can be successful business men despite their ‘thief’ stigma. On the one

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hand, the San Fiorese commercianti are known as exploiters and distrusted due to their Gypsy/rag collector past, while, on the other, they are admired for their ingenuity and shrewd business sense. In addition, they are actually successful business people. Despite the San Fiorese attempts at showing continuity with the past, the transformations associated with il miracolo are viewed with ambiguity. Luigina, for instance, describes il miracolo as having had both good and bad effects: People don’t know each other as well as they once did, especially the young, who don’t take any particular interest in the elderly. Once upon a time, people were more friendly or perhaps they needed each other more. When a new person comes to live in town people don't go out of their way to meet them or get to know them. Its due to the changes from foot to car, from home entertainment to cinema, dairy to supermarket. When once we lived from day to day buying bread, milk etc., each morning we had to see and speak to each other ... Life is better today because everyone does more or less what they like, there is more

freedom.

In the past you were restricted; certain

things you couldn't do for fear of scandal. Everything, even if you wore something extravagant. That's why I like going to Conegliano city, I dress as I please and do what I want.

While il miracolo is seen as positive—people have progressed from

rags to riches and I’America, or il benessere (affluence), is said to have

arrived in Italy—the change is talked about as having caused a move from a community to an individual focus and people are said to have become competitive and individualistic. According to Elena, il miracolo has made people materialistic. However, she does connect their newfound materialism to their traditional mentality: If they could, they would kill a flea to get a fur coat. This is the effect of rapid industrialisation—the passing from family and poverty in the morning to industry in the evening of the same day. Industry brought a fixed wage which brought money. However, the people still have the mentality of their poverty, of saving, because in the past they had to save in order to survive. Because extra flour one day meant going without the next. The rich industrialists here are so money-mad

you wouldn't get 5000 lire [$5] from them. The men-

tality here is to work from seven in the morning to ten at night. Every person is restricted to his domain, interested only in making money and saving it.

People of all ages point to the problems of modern society as proof of how life was better in the past. The changes in social life brought about by modernisation and its attendant ‘evils’, including individual-

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ism, drug abuse and prostitution, contribute to the imagining of a ‘golden past’.©? The fact that people can invoke a common past gives them a sense of unity. Through their joint criticism of the present and their collective construction of the past, the people of San Fior reestablish their collective identity. The emphasis on and attainment of financial success by the majority of townspeople in San Fior has had a profound influence on the way migration and migrants are perceived. The migrant's justification for migration must compete with the significant affluence the town has achieved since the era of mass emigration. Despite the social and economic changes that have occurred, the culturally defined goals people aspire to have remained relatively unchanged. Achieving a successful sistemazione continues to be the principal goal of most San Fiorese, wherever they live. Exactly what comprises a successful sistemazione, however, has changed over time. Sandro, a 30-year-old factory worker from San Fior di Sopra, describes what he calls the San Fiorese ‘work mentality’ and explains how, due to Italy's growing nationalism, and international fame, the requirements of this mentality have increased with the increased affluence: The people are extremely attached to money. They live very well here too. They are quite rich. There is the value of work which is very important, setting up house and putting money aside for children [sistemazione]. Young people work and save just like their parents. They do well also because their houses are beautiful and part of this has to do with being ‘Italian’, but this is a recent development. San Fior is particular also in its business because of its commercial nature. There are three banks in town so there’ a lot of money about ... The youth in San Fior interpret il benessere [affluence] as having more, owning more, being richer. It is greed.

Success is today measured in terms of how well one is sistemato. The size and style of house, its position and market value are important determinants of an individual’ social status. Bella figura is tied up with the ownership of a number of material items. The concept of figura (face) is a value which has been maintained for centuries. In the past,

figura was closely tied to notions of ascriptive status (through birth). Today, with the increased wealth of the individual and the increased wealth of the nation, la bella figura has become synonymous with conspicuous consumption. Material goods are not only important markers of status and wealth, they have become symbols of ethnic,

regional and national pride.®*

Given the central importance of identification through the ownership of material goods, it is not surprising that the fashion industry is one of the most significant. After all, as one young man said to me, ‘you

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don’t have to be rich to dress well’. Dressing well is a sign of pride and honour, the manifestation of bella figura. Much money is spent on clothing by Italians and the province of Treviso is, according to the San Fiorese, considered the ‘best dressed’ province in Italy. Rachelle, a grandmother, complained to me that the only clothing appreciated by her grandchildren were firmati (designer labels): ‘They refuse to wear any other clothes’. The preoccupation with fashion has become a source of psychological stress for young people. One 17-year-old youth refused to attend his first cousin’s wedding because he felt he had nothing suitable to wear. People allegedly ‘dress like millionaires’, even though they cannot afford to, preferring to skimp on meals if it means being able to afford the latest fashion. Rachelle told me: Some people don’t eat to save money for clothes. Dress has become crazy. My grandchildren always want something new, you never see them in anything twice. Then they only want designer fashion that costs the earth. School children demand designer label clothes. | bought a pair of jeans for my 10-year-old grandson and my daughter said that he wouldn't wear them because they weren’t designer label. He’s only ten! Another grandchild had his designer shoes stolen while attending swimming

lessons. This is the evil of fashion, it creates

envy. What one cannot have, that others have, inspires theft.

While skimping on meals is a way of saving money, it is also a way of staying slim. Keeping one’s linea (figure) has become a preoccupation of women and men throughout the western world. The pastry cook in di Sopra had plenty to say about the townspeople’s change in diet: Today people watch what they eat and what they spend on food because everyone is on a diet. There is no extravagant spending on food. The reigning concern is health, which has become synonymous with thinness. Once a fat child was seen as healthy, now fat children are referred to as abnormal. Once people spent a great deal of money on food—the house was full of every type of food available. Now my granddaughter, when she visits me, she complains that at her house there’s nothing to eat. When once we took pleasure in displaying various types of biscuits, today they’re never bought, to take away

the very temptation they were once bought for. As with the definition of a successful sistemazione, the cultural value of

figura has remained, but the type of figura that is valued has changed. In times of poverty, fatness is a sign of wealth and well-being; in times of opulence, thinness is esteemed and fatness shunned. There exist parallels of this cultural continuity and change in immigrant Australia. Elaborate wedding ceremonies, for example, have

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107

become the symbol of a successful migration because they represent

the achievement of sistemazione. Consequently, a great amount of

money is spent on them because their expense is directly proportional to the acquired sistemazione and status of the families concerned.© Similarly, Italian designer clothes are important signifiers of italianita among the second generation in Australia. The return visit also figures in the immigrants cultural continuity. Being able to afford frequent retum visits, and lots of expensive gifts for relatives, has become an indication of a successful migration. The dramatic changes in lifestyle, which the economic miracolo brought about, have often been conceived, by both social scientist and layperson alike, as the point at which traditional peasant societies in Italy became modern. In the dialogues of the San Fiorese, the past and present are conceived as two separate realities, the former being ‘traditional’ and the latter ‘modern’. Bell warns against the misuse of the term ‘traditional’, arguing that it should not be used as a synonym for pre-modern or non-modern; ‘Traditional behavior, then, refers to

actions taken with conscious reference to the past, usually, but not always, in terms of a positive assessment of the way things are believed

to have been in earlier times’.

Much of the intellectual confusion surrounding the concept of tradition arises from its linkage with modernity, where the two are viewed as being at opposite ends of a continuum. Modernity, at one end, is constructed as an ideal type defined as ‘knowledge, law, individual and nation’, having replaced

tradition at the other end,

defined

as ‘fate,

honor, family and village’. The movement from traditional to modern society is not simply unidirectional or complete; ‘the real continuum

flanked by these ideal types is a dialectical process’.&” Although people's

reflections on the differences between the ‘bygone days’ and the present tend to paint an image of a culture that has lost its traditions, both modern and traditional elements coexist in the same society at any given point.® Traditionalism is often an effort to reclaim what is thought to be good about the past in the face of dramatic changes of modernisation. Indeed, migrants continued campanilismo—attachment to their home town—can be partly explained in this way. Most San Fiorese today have factory jobs and own two Fiats (even more if you count the ones they buy for their children). Bell argues that these ‘vastly improved material conditions paved the way for a

new value system . . . but one deeply related to the old’.© The ‘money-

madness’ described by Elena is perhaps the most distinctive characteristic of the new value system. Orsi, in his description of the money mindedness of Italian immigrants in Harlem, points out the ambiguity and tension that arise because the new value system is deeply related

to the old:

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immigrant

had

come

to see all accomplishment,

worth,

and

value in terms of making more and more money, a task he applied himself to with monastic discipline. By ‘making America’ he would make himself. He came from a society that would have denied him all the decency and dignity it had the power to deny him; seen against this possibility, his triumph is compelling, and all the immigrants knew its power. But many of them feared it as well. They realized that such desire could devour a person, could engulf families and endanger the moral order.”°

It is not surprising that a migrant’s economic achievement is both a gauge for the success of, and a moral justification for, his/her migration. In Italy over the past decade there has been a noted revival of socalled traditions.’ This revival is referred to as riscoprire (rediscovery, to grasp again, to take hold of again), which implies that whatever is

being rediscovered had,

for a time, been lost. The

rediscovery of

traditions is not so much a return to traditions of the past as a transformation of historical practices to suit the present context. There are many examples of these historical transformations and the most obvious is in the use of food. Polenta was once the staple by necessity and there was so little other food available that people suffered pellagra from lack of variety in their diet. Today, polenta is eaten on celebratory occasions as a specialty. (Polenta is now served in a number of elite restaurants in Australia.) Many elderly people cannot stand to eat polenta, even on special occasions, as it reminds them of past hardships. Grazia questioned the merits of this traditional food, asking: ‘Why eat polenta when we can eat bread?’ Polenta has been transformed from the inadequate food of the poor, symbol of la miseria, to the ritual dish of celebratory occasions, symbol of regional identity. The continued use of polenta shows continuity with the past, although, once again, what it symbolises has changed over time. Another example of the rediscovery of past traditions is the socalled revival of a number of festivals that had ceased to be celebrated. The Dama di Conegliano is one of these. It is a game of human draughts played between the various frazioni of Conegliano for administrative rights to the shire’s castle. This annual festival has become a wellknown tourist attraction and draws thousands of spectators. Rural town festivals in general are becoming popular tourist spectacles and city dwellers often venture into the country to see a village festa, eat polenta and pick chestnuts. Although people refer to the eating of polenta and the celebration of festivals as a revival of traditions they are, in fact,

not only examples of the transformation of historical practices, but instances of the creation of new traditions.

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The transformation of a historical practice inevitably leads to the creation of something new. The so-called revival of dialects is a case in point. Italian dialects are constantly changing and cannot be maintained, or rediscovered for that matter, in a constant form. After a long

discussion about how standard Italian is being corrupted by foreign words (‘today people don’t say si they say okay’), Antonio Favaro, a journalist for the provincial council, described a number of nationwide initiatives to ‘rediscover’ the traditional dialects: ‘Up to ten years ago, people were embarrassed to speak dialect but today it has become a source of pride .. . Dialect is more intimate, more familiar, more tied

to our land, our place. It isn’t dead because in the country townspeople cannot speak Italian, and if they do, it is popular Italian’. While in the past dialect represented the lower class and peasantry, today dialect is becoming a highly valued symbol of local identity. The immigrant communities have contributed to the maintenance of the dialects. Many second generation Italian migrants in Australia are more fluent in their parents’ dialect than they are in the standard form of Italian. The immigrants have also contributed to the maintenance of local identity and campanilismo. Silverman found, for example, that although the town she studied in the 1970s no longer formed a bounded arena of social life—‘most people move in and out of the community frequently, and the town population is more diverse than it was a decade ago’*—and despite the fact that the major festivals of the Church calendar are celebrated in a modified and often abridged form, ‘the local identity and civic spirit are by no means extinct; indeed they are being rediscovered, if not re-created’.”> A Pro Loco (local promotion committee) was established in the town with the express purpose of promoting community identity and maintaining contacts with townspeople who have moved away. Silverman's description of the function of the newly established Pro Loco has implications for the influence of migration on campanilismo. The activities of immigrant associations like the ATM (in particular their organised youth visits and immigrant feste described in Chapter 2) do a great deal to ensure the maintenance of both ethnic and town identity. It is clear that people strive to create continuity with the past, and that this continuity is important to the maintenance of local identity. The claim that ‘in times of moral perplexity and crisis, a reappropriation of the past, a search for renewal, gains impetus’ is relevant to San Fior today.’* This reappropriation of the past has obvious implications for the present-day experience of migrants who are settled great distances, both socially and geographically, from their place of birth and the places of their past.

4

The Social Construction

of Campanilismo

It seems incontrovertible that if people in one milieu perceive fundamental differences between themselves and the members of another,

then their behaviour is bound

to reflect that sense

of

difference: it means something to them which it might not mean to others. That is precisely the competence which anthropologists attribute to ‘culture’, and to regard it as no more than a figment of the bourgeois imagination is to be a sociological flat-earther.!

Campanilismo refers specifically to local identity. In its simplest translation, it means parochialism, with both negative connotations implying closed mindedness, and positive connotations concerning pride for one’s home town. In analyses of Italian society, including its diasporas, campanilismo is often used as a conceptual tool to understand

both individual and collective attachment to and identification with

place. R. M. Bell, for example, defines it as ‘spatial self-identity’? To my knowledge, there is no adequate English equivalent. The German term heimat is a similar notion and refers to the intensity of love for one’s homeland that renders it a central place of nostalgic and emotional

yearning.>

The term campanilismo stems from the root campanile, which means bell-tower. The meaning of the word (which might be translated literally as ‘bell-towerism’)

derives from

the theory that, historically,

the church was the focal point of every town. The town’s central piazza was built around the church. The height of a bell-tower was thought to

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be a measure of campanilismo. A church with a small bell-tower reflected a town of little import. The bell-tower was seen as an expression of local pride. Italy's landscape is dotted with bell-towers, each one the focus of what were once separate villages. Today these same towers represent frazioni and sub-frazioni within comuni. I was introduced to what was described to me as an archetypal case of campanilismo—the competition between bell-towers—by Adriano Favaro, a local historian and journalist for the Treviso provincial council. The ‘case’ concerned the expression of parochial rivalries between the historical towns that now comprise the frazioni of Favaro's home town, ‘Great rivalry has always existed between these towns’, he explained, ‘especially between Lancenigo and Villorba’. According to Favaro, the replacement of wooden bell-towers with ones made of stone in the early 1800s marked the beginning of ‘civilisation’, of ‘progress’ and of benessere (affluence). Favaro obtained information about this period of the town’s history from the parish archives. The parish priest had taken the trouble to enter into a diary details about the construction of the bell-towers. One entry reports that ‘great amounts of money were spent for nothing other than the building of the tallest and most melodious bell-tower in order to claim superiority over the neighbouring frazioni’.* The archives note that the construction of Lancenigo’s new belltower was completed in 1800. The original bell-tower was described as ‘just a wooden box’. In 1806 a bell-tower construction foundation was established by people in Villorba. The reason given was the ‘sorry state of their bell-tower, especially if one compared it to Lancenigo’s’. The new tower was completed in 1810. In 1899, Lancenigo’s belltower was raised so that it would be taller than that of Villorba’. Initially, Lancenigo’s bell-tower had a tiled top but this was converted into a peaked steeple at the cost of four thousand lire, and new bells were installed. Then, a year later, Villorba bought new bells for its bell-

tower, bigger than those of Lancenigo’, ‘that resulted in a beautiful peal’. However, they were not quite the right size for the bell-tower which, although beautiful, was too narrow

for them. The manner

in

which the new bells were first installed meant that they were extremely difficult to ring and they had to be reinstalled at great cost. Three years later, in 1903, Lancenigo bought bells so big that the wooden structures supporting the bells had to be replaced with steel. According to the

priest's records there was no need for the new bells: it was ‘just a whim

to compete with Villorba’. Australians are not unfamiliar with the expression of parochial rivalries through larger than life constructions. While in Italy these have traditionally been expressed through bell-towers, in Australia,

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commercial towers and enormous statues are more common. These rivalries are not only played out between major cities like Melbourne and Sydney, but also between small towns whose collective identity is often represented in a giant statue of the local produce. Some examples include Coffs Harbour’ big banana, Bundaberg’s big bull, Ballina’s big prawn and Nambour’ big pineapple.> The proposed Melbourne Grollo tower—which would be the tallest in Australia—is meant to cast a metaphorical shadow over Sydney and perhaps to rival our Malaysian neighbours’ twin towers in Kuala Lumpur.® Perth has recently con-

structed its own secular bell-tower as a symbol of civic pride and identity. Despite evidence to the contrary, campanilismo in Italy is commonly held to have waned. The reasons given usually include the processes

associated with modernisation, such as industrialisation, Americanisation, media influences, the increasing incidence of divorce and loss of

religion. It is spoken about by many as the heritage of the elderly: they

have the stories, they lived it. Of those who believe campanilismo is in

decline, some bemoan a ‘romantic past’ and the loss of community. They associate campanilismo with traditionalism—all that was good and wholesome about life in the past. Others see campanilismo as anachronistic and an impediment to all that is good and progressive about modern developments. The theory of the demise of campanilismo is similar to the ‘loss of culture thesis’ regarding the impact of migration on emigrant culture: campanilismo has been envisioned as being taken over and replaced by modernity, while the emigrant’s ethnicity has been perceived as being lost to the host society. There is a debate in Italian migration studies about whether campanilismo has been over-stressed or inflated. 1 agree with those re-

searchers who debunk arguments that link campanilismo to a ‘romantic’

notion of culture—a tradition that researchers ‘defend’ as a characteristic of ‘real Italian-ness’.? When campanilismo is viewed as a dynamic cultural value that changes with the historical developments in the socio-economic and political life of a people, it can provide a valuable tool for anthropological understanding. The economic and social changes in Italy, in particular migration and the development of Italy's national and international identity, have meant that one’s paese is no longer one’s world, and this has affected the way people construct their campanilismo. Campanilismo continues to be central to the San Fiorese identity. This attachment to place is germane to a particular world-view rooted in a cultural logic that includes a complex set of cultural values, religious beliefs and family obligations. An understanding of attachment to place is essential to an understanding of the migrant experience,

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and therefore it is important to explore campanilismo. My question, ‘Why do you visit home?’, was invariably met with curious surprise by Australian San Fiorese because they felt the answer was obvious. Every migrant I interviewed said they visited home because they were ‘born there’. The most oft-cited reason was: ‘e sempre il mio paese’ (it is still my town). People’s references to ‘my town’ imply that a strong attachment to and self-conscious identification with place remains, despite

migration. An understanding of the migrants’ campanilismo, therefore, is as crucial as accounts of the cultural motivation for migration and the moral obligation to return in understanding why people continue

to visit home.

I am interested in campanilismo in terms of its ‘discursive fact’ (the

way in which campanilismo is ‘put into discourse’)—to account for the fact that campanilismo is spoken about and conceived of in a variety of ways; to discover who does the speaking and the position and viewpoints from which they speak; and to locate the institutions which prompt people to speak about it and which store and distribute what

is said.®

As Silverman observed: ‘Within this multicentric society, the basic similarity among towns extended also to a common insistence upon uniqueness: minute differences between one town and another were— and still are—exaggerated, while local traditions are nurtured’.? Attitudes towards the expression of campanilismo seem to vary according to the social class of the speaker. I had occasion to interview the then Minister for the Arts of the province of Treviso who, unlike Favaro, spoke of campanilismo as an institution that no longer has relevance today. We met in the historic centre of Vittorio Veneto where he had come to view the dress rehearsal of a theatre group. He told me that he was committed to the promotion of ‘high culture’ in Treviso and lectured to me ina difficult academic Italian about campanilismo which, he said, was something of the past. The minister described campanilismo as a concept which could be used to make sense of the ‘push and pull’ forces in the historic community; it was largely irrelevant to the modern world and only evident in the minds of the uncultured: It derives from the word ‘bell-tower’, that is, an environmental reality,

a situation which springs up around the bell-tower .. . The church was everything, it created a local reality because everything gravitated around the church

... The higher the bell-tower, the louder its toll

and therefore the more able it is to communicate a message, and the

larger its territory of influence . . . Evident here is a concentric tension which

is directed

towards

the centre, a tension which

makes

one

forget the outside reality . .. This is the dominion of the bell-tower.

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This description of campanilismo provides insights into its symbolic aspect. In an example of what could be described as ‘distancing the other’, ‘learned’ or ‘cultured’ people refer to campanilistic sentiment as

a form of bigotry held by the peasantry or the working class.!° Pitt-

Rivers notes a similar intellectual chauvinism surrounding campanilistic sentiments in his Andalusian study: ‘there is a tendency, among those who regard themselves as educated persons, to consider such sentiments old-fashioned and brutish’.!! The discussions about campanilismo I had with ‘educated’ people generally led to an imaging of the ‘peasant-

worker’, who ‘still thinks like that’, as being somehow less modern or

less emancipated than themselves. Ironically, this type of opinion could be described as an expression of campanilistic sentiment through which the ‘elite’ practise a form of class-based campanilismo. On the one hand, campanilismo has to do with community identity and the relationships between people in terms of locality, but, on the other, it is cross-cut by sentiments of class and status. Within these localities there are variations and horizontal divisions evident in the

fact that campanilismo means different things to the elite than it does to

the peasant-worker. These differences can be understood in terms of the diverse layers within a society. 1 have described the various discourses on migration represented by the migrants in Perth, the townspeople in Italy and the returned migrants. All these groups of people construct their campanilismo differently but, at the same time, campanilismo has an homogenising effect in that all San Fiorese share an identification with the place that is San Fior. This model of community identity is based on the idea that certain signifiers or symbols

(for example,

the idea of place that is San

Fior) can mean

different things to different people and yet at the same time be a source

of unifying collective identity.!2

The majority view would hold that campanilismo continues to exist today, but that it was much stronger in the past. A more accurate view would be simply that the expression of campanilistic sentiment has changed over time. The most commonly told stories about the expression of campanilismo in the past concern courtship and the careful monitoring of outsiders who enter the community. Favaro refers to ‘a spirit of rivalry and revenge’ between inhabitants who did not want youths from neighbouring towns to court their nubile women,

and

relates: ‘My father told me that as a youth when he visited another frazione from the same town, never alone but with a group of youths from his frazione, they would have stones thrown at them’. Similarly, Alwyn Rees, in his study, Life in a Welsh Countryside, published in 1950, noted that ‘hostility is expressed by the young men

towards suitors from other neighbourhoods who come to court local

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girls, and such suitors have to put up with a great deal of horseplay’.!3 Rees refers to the courtship customs of Central Europe where the young men’s guilds were the custodians of custom, and they imposed punishment on those who broke the rules of courtship: ‘One of these rules excluded suitors from another village’.!* Raul Pertierra notes similar hostilities in the 1980s between the resident young men of neighbouring barrios (districts) in Zamora, an interior municipality in the province

of Ilocos Sur, in the Philippines.!>

In San Fior today, the all-male friendship groups that meet every evening in one of the local bars are a modern-day version of the young men’s guilds that Rees describes. These men, all single, take great pleasure in making fun not only of fellow townswomens suitors, but of each other. For example, the young men chided their friend Massimo with, ‘we must only speak standard Italian to you now that you're going with a girl from Treviso’, the implication being that, because Massimo was dating a young woman from the provincial capital, he thought himself better than the others. Massimo, defending himself, insisted that he spoke dialect to his girlfriend. Towards the end of my stay in San Fior, I discovered that when I had first arrived in the town a great ‘dare’ among some of the young men had been to invite me out. These youths initially referred to me as l’americana and were apparently ‘all too scared to ask me out for fear that our friends would make fun of us’. I soon became less foreign as people began to acknowledge me

as uno dei nostri (one of our own), the child of an emigrant.

Despite the generally held view that campanilismo was stronger in the past, most informants recognise that it still exists today. According to Favaro, evidence of campanilismo nowadays is mainly associated with the distribution of funds and services among the frazioni of a shire: ‘For example, when a town wants a swimming pool or a gymnasium, they refer to the shire with a petition or request. However, the townspeople ask for it to be constructed in their frazione, not in another, because they live in that place and thus want the best developments to come about in their zone’. As in the past, campanilismo today finds expression through competitions between the inhabitants of neighbouring frazioni. Favaro described the football game held every Christmas Eve between the inhabitants of two frazioni of Villorba as an example of ‘modern’ campanilismo: ‘The game is usually an aggressive one even though it is

meant to be played for fun. Great rivalry exists between the two teams’. John Agnew reiterates Favaro’s claim: ‘Intense loyalty to local football (soccer) clubs has become an important feature of everyday life for people, especially young men, all over Europe. Nowhere is this more the case than in Italy where fanatical adherence to ‘the team’ recalls

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older forms of identification with locality generally referred to in Italian as campanilismo’.!© Silverman, in her study of Montecastellese society, describes football as ‘the contemporary approximation of ceremonials that traditionally marked Montecastellese identity vis-a-vis other

communities’.!” Contemporary forms of campanilismo are also evident in ritualised

joking or teasing relationships.!® Ritualised joking refers to a situation in which certain categories of people, in this case the inhabitants of neighbouring frazioni, are permitted to take great liberties with each other through sharp and often obscene teasing (usually without either party taking offence). The joking relations are one way that community boundaries are defined. On one hand they can be seen as a mechanism to maintain distance between the inhabitants of neighbouring frazioni. On the other, the joking effects a degree of closeness between the parties involved and in this way delineates a collective town identity comprising extra-frazioni ties.

The idea that each town is unique, like its bell-tower, is evident in a

number of popular sayings. In settling a dispute between two people, after listening attentively to one person, the mediator commented, ‘I’ve heard one bell-tower sound, now I must listen to the other’. Towns are

said to run on their own time, according to their specific bell-tower. Bell-towers toll the hour of the day and mark every half hour with a solitary stroke. In the past, church time was town time. My aunt remarked that Corbanese runs on ‘Corbanese time’ when I noted that

the clock was chiming midday almost five minutes late. The more

sombre function of the bell-tower (one everyone notices immediately)

is the death knell.!9 When it sounds, people make a concerted effort to find out who has died. The bell-tower is also used as the town alarm, although in Villorba, Tarzo and San Fior it has been over fifty years since it was used for this purpose.

Contemporary campanilismo, then, refers to the identity shared by

people who live in the same place, who share the same town time and who respond to the same death knells. People’s sentiments of ascription and identification establish a social boundary that defines their group in relation to neighbouring towns and even frazioni.*° This spatial identity is considered by its bearers to be unique and different from neighbouring towns (even if only by a few minutes). The spatial aspect of campanilismo is reinforced by a sense of birth place, particularly if one’s ancestors have lived in the place for generations. Campanilismo is not

only

spatial

identity,

therefore,

but

also ancestral

(through

an

awareness of origins). Underlying the identification with space is the shared experience of consociation—shared times and shared deaths. Consociation refers to

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the linking together of individuals who operate out of similar meaning contexts, from which they interpret the world.2! Shared experience

does not have to take the form of face-to-face interaction. In San Fior,

at the very least, consociates are linked through the common auditory experience of the bell. The San Fiorese’s sense of attachment to place,

represented by the bell-tower, does not diminish with distance, even if

for some, like the migrants, the sound of the bells is just a memory. The toll of the bell-tower is a mnemonic that triggers an emotional response or attitude.?* Such mnemonics act as ‘condensation symbols’ through which norms and values became saturated with emotion.” According to Cohen, ‘Symbols of the “past”, mythically infused with timelessness, have precisely this competence, and attain particular effectiveness during periods of intensive social change when communities have to drop their heaviest anchors in order to resist the currents of transformation’.** This is particularly the case in the context of migration, where settlement in a new country is often perceived by migrants as precipitating massive cultural and personal change. In these situations, people often draw more strongly on what they believe to be traditional ways and values than they would if they had not migrated. From the perspective of the migrant, the bell-tower becomes a symbol of the traditional community representing stability and unity— the antithesis of change—and, as such, it assumes particular importance in the host country. To many migrants, the bell-tower represents the ‘golden past’ and, understandably, they do not want their memories spoiled. When they return to their home towns and discover that their nostalgic expectations are not matched by reality, they are often shocked and dismayed at their sense of being spaesato (lost) in their own paese. The desire to keep the past intact helps to explain why the ‘emigrant community’ of Miane, a town 30 kilometres from San Fior, contributed

one million lire to the bell-tower restoration fund of their natal

frazione.?°

Campanilismo in San Fior William Douglass, in his book Emigration in a South Italian Town, refers

to the fact that everyone within earshot of the same campanile is thought to share common interests. He defines campanilismo as the identification of the special form community loyalties assume: ‘There is a sense in which community boundaries set off a distinctive moral and social universe’.*© While identifying the unifying function of campanilistic sentiment, Douglass also acknowledges the diversity on which it depends. In consonance with Douglass’ findings about Agnone, the town he studied, there are many San Fiors:

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the sources of which are varied. They include the town’s ecology, settlement

pattern,

and situation within

its region vis-a-vis the

outside world. There are marked social class distinctions, which are in turn cross-cut by political and economic factionalism. The population is further differentiated internally according to birthplace. [The] society is age graded, with generational distinctions acquiring considerable importance, and segregated along sex lines. Within the rhythm of local life there are several distinct temporal sequences, each of which gives particular flavor to the lives of only a part of the

town’s inhabitants.2”

Campanilismo is manifest in everyday life in San Fior in many ways. Campanilistic sentiment is expressed by inhabitants through their origin myths, political system, their views on dress codes, livelihood and comportment, as well as through the topographical and ecological divisions within

the town.

The

terrain,

the density of their houses,

climatological and other factors, serve to create a specific identity for inhabitants. Campanilismo and political contests follow these topo-

graphical splits.?8

Inhabitants of San Fior maintain that the ‘differences’ between the people of each of the three frazione are due to the different origins of the three villages they began as. This reference to ‘different origins’ is the same argument used to explain the perceived differences between

inhabitants of the north and south of Italy. Given that the fundamental

question concerning campanilismo is: ‘Where do you come from?’, it is

not surprising to discover competing origin stories for San Fior. | am

not concerned with the truth of these stories but rather with the effect of their being ‘known’ and retold. There are separate and well-known origin stories for di Sopra and Castello. It is important to note that these origin stories were told to me during discussions concerning campanilismo or whenever comparisons between the frazioni came up. The ‘official history’ of the comune of San Fior is supported by archaeological evidence and historic documents dating back, in the case of the castle at Roganzuolo, to the 900s.”? This well-fortified feudal

castle was fought over by the bishop of Ceneda and the patriarch of Aquileia. When the territory was given over to Venice, around the beginning of the 1400s, the castle probably no longer existed. All that remained was the church and bell-tower. In 1535 Amalteo painted a fresco in the church, and the altar was painted by Titian between 1542

and 1547.°° The fact that the bell-tower remains forms a powerful

symbolic link with the past for the inhabitants of Castello, strengthening their notion of campanilismo, not so much owing to the height of the tower and the distance its toll is carried, as to its antiquity and connection to nobility.

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Little historical evidence exists concerning San Fior di Sopra. The village is presumed to have existed at the same time as Castello. The church contains the original altar painted by Cima di Conegliano in 1505. Until the beginning of the last century, it was the matrice (mother church or head) of a group of churches in the area (including San Vendemiano,

Godega, Pianzano and San Fior di Sotto). Cima painted

the various patron saints of these towns on the altar. The fact that di Sopra’ church was responsible for these neighbouring churches endows it with great significance in the minds of its parishioners. Di Sopra’s church was not, however, responsible for its closest neighbour, Castello.

Given the grandiose history of Castello, it is easy to understand that rivalry between the two places is as old as the towns themselves. San Fior’ ‘religious history’ offers a different focus to the ‘official’ one. Don Giovanni, the former priest of San Fior, explained that the names of the towns in Italy are generally a key to their history. According to local historian G. Fiorot, the name San Fior refers to San Fiorenzo, an African martyr whose relics were brought to Treviso

by the bishop Tiziano before the year 1000.3! Bishop Fiorenso (or

Floriano) was killed with the bishop Vendemiale; they were brothers and both were martyrs in Cartagine in the fifth century. They were taken to Treviso from Africa around the end of the fifth century. One of San Fior’s neighbouring towns is San Vendemiano, whose patron saint is San Vendemiale. It is plausible that San Fior took its name from the ‘brother’ saint. The representations of these two bishops, painted by Cima di Conegliano on the main altar in San Fior, are cited as evidence. By far the most commonly accepted origin story of the town is one based on the idea that San Fior di Sopra was initially a camp of Gypsies who had their origins in Montenegro in former Yugoslavia. Via Ongaresca,

the ancient Roman

road which

divides di Sotto and di

Sopra is cited as evidence. This story is part of the popular history of the town. The way in which people use the origin stories of San Fior di Sopra and Castello Roganzuolo is evidence of campanilismo. A wellknown man, and influential council member,

Silvestrin, responded following explanation:

from Castello, Daniele

to my reference to local rivalries with the

They say that San Fior di Sopra is the kind that was initially a ‘camp’ stop for a caravan of Gypsies ... While Castello Roganzuolo, in its antiquity, going back to ap 700, was a municipality. Therefore it had its own title and this title gave the inhabitants of Castello a civil preparation much more progressive than those of San Fior . . . There remains a contrast between the two towns due to the very real differences in social conditions.

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Daniele cites the different origins of the two frazioni as a way of distancing his fellow townspeople from those of di Sopra, locating Castello inhabitants in what he refers to as ‘a civil history’, while di Sopra has its origins in ‘a history of hardships, coming from a caravan of Gypsies’. The preoccupation with being civile (civilised) is a familiar anthropological theme, particularly in Mediterranean studies.** While it cannot boast ‘a civil history’, San Fior di Sopra’s location on the main highway and its history of ambulatory trade is presumed to have ensured that its inhabitants are more progressive. One female resident described di Sopra as ‘a very open town, like all towns on the main road. The people accept new ideas and change’. The inhabitants of the comune of San Fior divide themselves up according to where they live. Besides Castello Alto and Basso, there are a number of borghi (suburbs), campi (squares), cortili (courtyards), quartieri (quarters) and zones (like case sparse—disseminated farmsteads) which further sub-divide each frazioni. People identify less with the legal comune as a whole than with the specific place of their birth. There is a zone in San Fior di Sopra known as Campardone, derived from the Latin, ‘campus aridus’ meaning arid field, referring to the unproductive soil characteristic of the zone. Many families in San Fior have the surname, Campardo. Here identity is explicitly connected to place; one’s name is taken from the place where one lives. Castello Roganzuolo is considered the richest frazione in San Fior. Despite having ‘most of the industry’, many of its inhabitants also own productive farm land. Inhabitants of Castello argue that their mixed livelihood offers the best of both worlds—traditional and modern. Castellani are very proud of their impressive history, which, combined with the beautiful church and hilly landscape, makes the drive through the area popular with tourists. Outsiders tend to define Castellani as snobbish and tight-fisted. Because of the quality of the land, inhabitants of Castello think the comune should take the name Castello Roganzuolo and the town hall should be in its environs. People from Castello will tell you that the mayor of San Fior has always been a man from Castello, insinuating that, like the land, the inhabitants are superior to those in the other

frazioni. At the same time, however, there exists a major division within Castello itself, between Castello Alto and Castello Basso. The highway runs through that part of Castello where Castello Alto and Castello Basso meet and has consequently increased the division between the two. The building of a new piazza in Castello Basso in 1990, complete with a new church and electronic bell-tower, has firmly segmented Castello into two sub-frazioni. Rita came to live in Castello Basso when she married. Reflecting on her conjugal frazione, she explained:

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Since the building of the new church the town has become somewhat divided. Whereas once everyone met at church on Sunday, now one only meets half the town. The new church was made because the old one is too small for everyone. Even before the church was made there existed something akin to rivalry between ‘the high ones’ [from Castello Alto] and ‘the low ones’ [from Castello Basso] and the building of the church cemented this division. The Alti [high ones]

are said to be full of their own importance and the Bassi [low ones] are thought to resemble the inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra, their

close neighbours.

Within the comune of San Fior there are clearly defined identities for each frazione. Elena, the local police officer, had a great deal to say about the differences between the inhabitants of each frazione and attested to ‘a high degree of campanilistic sentiment in the town’: The three frazioni represent three different types of life . . . Ifa person from di Sotto comes to my office he will knock on the door and wait for an answer then ask permission to enter as he opens the door. A person from Castello will walk straight in and he doesn’t care if other people are present, he is the boss. This is a generalisation but it shows the separate worlds, the different mentalities. The people who live off their land have a different world view to people who work in a factory or industry. Castellani have the benefits of both land and industry ... They talk big and they think they’re more important than the San Fiorese. You must never confuse a person from di Sotto for someone from Castello. They’d poke your eyes out—‘Who!

me?

Madam,

you

are mistaken,

I am

from

San Fior!’

They become really offended.

Campanilistic sentiment and the defining of one’s own town as somehow different and always superior to others creates for each town a specific character and identity. This town character has both positive and negative aspects. Often, the same aspect or characteristic is defined as positive by insiders and negative by outsiders. San Fior di Sotto, for example, is referred to by outsiders as a ‘country bumpkin’ town implying that it has little civilta (literally ‘civility’, figuratively ‘sophistication’). The frazione is bordered by a 5-kilometre length of road named via Palt: and, given its settlement pattern of disseminated farmsteads, its inhabitants are often referred to as ‘the people of via Palw’. Their agricultural livelihood is thought to have made them more staunchly traditional, less inclined to accept progressive changes and generally simpler than the other inhabitants. Di Sotto is the furthest frazione from the main road making it also the quietest. The fact that

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San Fior di Sotto is the only frazione that still maintains a bocce alley is

an indication, according to locals, of its traditional (old-fashioned)

nature.

The very livelihood that gives di Sotto this negative identity is held up by its inhabitants as good, moral and healthy living, without the individualistic and materialistic evils of the modern world. The most positive aspect of di Sotto’s identity is its perceived community orientation. Eugenio, who has lived in di Sotto all of his fifty-two years, describes life in the frazione as the ‘honest life of farmers, closed to outside influences and ever ready to band together for support’. The inhabitants of di Sotto are proud of the fact that theirs is the only frazione in the shire that can boast its own Pro Loco and they like to nominate this fact to illustrate that the inhabitants of their frazione are closer to each other than the inhabitants of the others: ‘To run a Pro Loco you need community spirit’.

To exemplify the alleged ‘community spirit’ of di Sotto, Eugenio recounted ‘the famous incident over the sealing of via Pal’. Although I could find no one to verify the story—not even the mayor or Grazia had heard of it—the anecdote tells much about the relations between the three frazioni: While San Fior di Sopra was having its piazza renovated and resealed, via Palu was still unsealed and the townspeople’s complaints were being continually dismissed by unfulfilled promises. In desperation, the inhabitants of San Fior di Sotto drove their tractors (with ploughs attached) around and around the newly made piazza in San Fior di Sopra, threatening to plough it up if they did not receive the money to seal their road.

According to the younger inhabitants, the clearest indicator of a person's frazione of residence in San Fior is dress. With fashion an important marker of Italys international identity, young people, in particular, are extremely clothes conscious. My clothes were often the subject of mirth among the young ‘trendy’ students. One day I wore white ankle-socks and clogs (wooden-soled scuffs) to class. Usually I would never wear these outside the house but I was in a rush and forgot to change them. The students thought this was a great joke and before the class began had written on the board in their Italian-English, ‘Our teacher is today dressed like those ones from via Palit’. There were no students present from di Sotto. A further marker of distance between the various frazioni are their political divisions. In Castello San Giorgio, one of four towns Bell studied, ‘political contests revolve less around party than around precise

place of residence’.*? From the end of World War II until the 1960s,

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the province of Treviso was situated in the area known as la zona bianca, regarded as a stronghold of the Christian Democrat (DC) Party. During the 1960s and 1970s a number of smaller parties made inroads in the previously hegemonic support for the DC party in parts of the north-east.>* Since the 1979 election, a much more complex geography of political strength and variation has characterised Italy. The 1990s mani pulite (clean hands) campaign uncovered corruption scandals within the DC party that most supporters would never have thought possible, and has consequently cost the party dearly in votes. The frazioni in San Fior are mutually exclusive at the political level. The

main political parties are divided into three factions—Socialists,

Communists and Christian Democrats.*° According to Bruno, a local councillor: ‘These parties represent the three frazioni, not the parties. Within each party the frazioni are divided, for example, a Christian Democrat from San Fior di Sopra would never vote for a Christian Democrat from Castello’. Every five years the town council is elected and the main parties present a list of candidates. Each party's list comprises a mixture of people from each frazione, a total of twenty to thirty nominees per party. People vote either for the list or, as most commonly happens, for the individual candidates. Bruno explains: In this comune people only vote for representatives from their frazione even if that person is not as good as another candidate. The important thing is that the person is from your own frazione. This is due to the mentality of campanilismo because people believe that members of other frazioni will only advance the interests of their frazione . . . and unfortunately, this is true. Consequently the members of the town council in the comune of San Fior represent a three-way division between

di Sopra,

di Sotto

and

Castello.

The

most

powerful

is

Castello, where most of the industry is. Di Sopra is actually the poorest of the three frazioni. In di Sotto people have a lot of land and although they are only farmers they are very rich.

The campanilistic sentiment and competition evident in party politics is also manifest in the politics of everyday life in San Fior. There is rivalry, for example, between the choirs in Castello and di Sopra. The di Sopra choir is a church choir that does not participate in non-religious events outside the frazione. Castello’s church choir, however, enters competitions at the provincial level. Natalio, a carpenter and the choir master in San Fior di Sopra, enjoyed painting a somewhat exaggerated picture of aspects of life in San Fior. His favourite subject was the choir. Natalio had taught music in the comune’s primary schools for many years. The extent of his pride for ‘his’ choir was matched only by the extent of his dislike for the choir in Castello.

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Natalio’s antagonism to Castello’s choir is partly due to the fact that some of ‘his’ choir members have, in his words, been ‘stolen’ by the Castello choir: ‘The choir in San Fior di Sopra was founded in 1947. It has always been large and good because people from all over Italy have come here ... Castellos choir! You would get a fright if you heard them! They are only about ten years old and they, in ten years, pretend to be who knows who’. Natalio emphasises the long history of the choir in di Sopra and the central place it once had in town life: ‘During the post-war period, the only enjoyment was singing in the choir’. The size and importance of

the choir began to diminish in the early 1950s, due largely to the high

rates of emigration from the town: ‘The choir in San Fior in 1946-47 had eighty members, all boys and men. In the following three or four years over half of them left to go abroad’. Even though people left the town they still maintained relationships of mutual obligation with townspeople. Natalio actually asked me to take up a collection among those San Fiorese in Australia to help him pay for a new organ for the church. Because the nature of campanilistic sentiment is such that individuals promote their own frazione and denigrate others, when discussing campanilismo it is essential to know who told the story about whom. The insider-outsider status of an individual changes depending on where boundaries are formed. A person from di Sopra may speak pejoratively of di Sotto or Castello. However, in another instance, that person will identify with these same people as San Fiorese (at the town level), as Trevisani (at the provincial level) or as Veneti (at the regional

level), and will be united against neighbouring towns, provinces or regions.

Campanilismo is a complex concept which reflects the relationship between space and person. Birthplace is thought to bestow on an individual part of their identity. Campanilismo reflects the perception of fundamental distinctions between paesani, people born within the bell’s ring, and stranieri, outsiders.° But what of people who live in the town but were not born there, and of those who were born in the town

but no longer live there?>’

Although differences in identity are explained according to origin, inhabitants who are not born in the town still identify with the place, just as inhabitants who no longer live in the town continue to identify as San Fiorese. Identification with place is not inherited so much as developed through shared experience and shared history. Many people living in San Fior spoke to me at great length about the differences between the frazioni. I was always surprised if I discovered they were originally from another town. Alberto, a young man who lives in di

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Sopra, described his attachment to San Fior despite having been born in Padua: ‘My whole life is embedded here. I would have trouble moving because I find this place beautiful. I have become emotionally attached to the town, its topography. I was born in Padua but I'd never move back there’. Attachment to place, like ethnic identity, is often a

matter of self-ascription and/or ascription by others.?8

Campanilistic sentiment can be used as a gauge of identification with place as well as of the exclusivity of a community. There is much truth in the popular local saying that: ‘In San Fior, people do not have Pieve on their tongues’ (that is, in San Fior people do not talk about Pieve). Pieve is a town in Treviso about 20 kilometres from San Fior. The saying refers to the boundary of campanilismo, and suggests that people in San Fior talk about other people in their comune and are not interested in the inhabitants of distant towns. The importance of gossip to the maintenance of community values and boundaries is well documented.*? The collective power of le chiacchiere (gossip) is evident in the pain and frustration it can cause. People in San Fior, both locals

and visitors alike, seemed to lament the amount of gossiping that went on almost as much as they gossiped. Campanilistic sentiment is also thought to be bounded by age. The view that campanilismo does not exist for the young is debatable. Although it is true that the purportedly violent inter-frazione fighting of the past does not occur today, the young people who spoke to me frequently made reference to differences between the frazioni, and identified themselves and others accordingly. One of my English students from di Sopra, Marta, explained, ‘I immediately like to say I’m from di Sopra ... None of the friends I go out with are from Castello or di Sotto’. People from di Sotto or Castello often participate in totally separate friendship circles, and are not known by the inhabitants of di Sopra except through kin ties. That the social networks of the three frazioni are mutually exclusive (apart from kin ties) is reflected in the use of frazione-specific nicknames. The custom of nicknaming relates to spatial identification and has been defined as ‘village socio-centrism’—yet another gloss for campanilismo.*© The San Fiorese go to great lengths to explain the uniqueness and superiority of their particular frazione. More specifically, the San Fiorese define each other according to locality and appear to believe that one’s identity is profoundly influenced by where one lives. Franco Zamin, a Perth immigrant, is one example, as he attributes his

considerable financial success in Australia to his San Fiorese origins, which he believes endowed him with heightened business acumen. The most salient feature of campanilismo would be that it signifies the boundary and identity of a community in imagined space and time.

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This boundary may extend across geographical space to include San

Fiorese in different countries who are linked by their idea of the place that is San Fior. Campanilismo often involves the denigration of other communities.

In San Fior, the suffix ‘at’, which is the dialect equivalent of standard

Italian ‘accio’", expressing contempt, dislike, or disapproval, is sometimes

added to the name of the frazione to express contempt of neighbouring

townspeople: San Fiorese become San Fiorat and Castellani become Castellat. These nicknames are only employed by inhabitants of the frazioni in the comune of San Fior to refer to each other. They are not so much an expression of inter-frazione rivalry as a way of defining people in terms of their place of residence with reference to the speaker. The

speaker refers to the inhabitants of other frazioni in a manner that

implies his or her superiority (as in the reference to the inhabitants of

di Sotto as ‘those from via Palt’). The use of these nicknames establishes

bounded communities whose inhabitants are set apart from each other by place of residence. Like gossip, the use of nicknames is a boundary forming device: ‘the continual and mutual affirmation of inter-village differences operates as a social mechanism that defines one village from another, regardless of the objective reality of social and cultural

distinctions and boundaries’.*!

That the family was traditionally the primary marker of spatial selfidentity is evident in the fact that those families who have lived in the town for generations have their own soprannome or nickname known only within the confines of their village. The use of these nicknames is still prevalent in Italy today and among the migrants in Australia. Many elderly informants in both places would often refer to a person by his or her family nickname. Several people struggled in vain to remember the actual surname. The use of occupational titles in reference to and in addressing individuals occupying relatively high status or prestige positions is also a form of nicknaming. In San Fior the mayor, the priest, the doctor, teachers, to name

but a few, are addressed and

Don

to his presumed

referred to solely in terms of their occupational titles. Some of these formal occupational titles are not immune to additional nicknames. For example, one of the former priests in the comune was known as Culato

activities.

(Father

Bottomed)

due

homosexual

Nicknames can be regarded as a societal mechanism that operates to provide a sense of belonging: ‘Knowledge of nicknames and awareness of their situationally correct usage is necessary for interpersonal relations beyond a superficial level . . . to use a nickname implies that

one is an insider rather than an outsider’.42 However, the fact that I was given a nickname by Grazia, ‘l’australiana’, which was later adopted

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by the townspeople who knew me well, does not mean that I was an insider. When people began to use the nickname to my face and when I knew and could appropriately use other people's nicknames I became more of an insider. My nickname itself, however, reinforced my outsider status. Initially I was referred to as l’americana, but this term is not so much a nickname as a stereotype used for all returned migrants, and I was rarely addressed in this way. Because nicknames are coined in the face-to-face interaction of townspeople, and because they are only known about within the town and only used if accepted by its inhabitants, the town may be thought of as a community of nicknames. Nicknames can cut across class differences to present a homogeneous community. They can also cut across family boundaries. The family name is used in interaction with the outside world but the nickname is used within the village: ‘Nicknames define a person as a member of the community and contextually removes individuals from the narrower bonds of the nuclear family.

Nicknaming is the recognition, if not the manifestation, of the wider

bonds of community’.?

That migrants are still referred to by their nicknames, despite the fact that they no longer live in the town and have not done so for perhaps fifty years, attests to their continual membership in the community of the town. The emigrant’s nickname may have changed slightly to denote his or her emigrant status (for example, one man is known as Pase da Perth—Pase

from Perth). Migrants too, continue to

refer to their paesani by nicknames and they are kept informed of nickname changes and additions, even though they no longer live in the town. Self-ascription, shared experience and history, gossip, teasing relationships, social networks and the use of nicknames all work to unite the members of a frazione as a bounded community distinct from outsiders. The resultant sense of community tends to mask the many divisions between the inhabitants of a frazione. The sense of sameness is, in fact, cultivated by residents as a way of maintaining their unique town identity. People in di Sopra, for example, nominate their ragpicking history as a way of homogenising the town. The past is being used here as a resource: ‘It is a selective construction of the past which resonates with contemporary influences’.** Many of the most affluent townspeople today are said to have ‘started out’ as straccivendoli (ragpickers). Of anyone who puts on airs, people would say, ‘I remember when they used to go rag collecting’. Similarly, people remind each other of how they used to go rag collecting with the parents of the doctor and any other professional in the town. The common history represented by the straccivendolo lifestyle of la miseria that preceded

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the economic miracle, gives the townspeople a sense of shared suffering and hardship—of everyone being in the same boat—minimising class differences, making everyone equal. This also creates a feeling of shared or common beginnings and, more importantly, everyone can draw on these common origins, which underlie identity and campanilismo. While the expression of campanilismo through jealous rivalry between the choirs and football teams of the shire is accepted, as is the joking banter between inhabitants of different frazioni, other expressions of campanilismo are frowned upon. I witnessed an example of unacceptable campanilistic behaviour in 1989. The children of the three frazioni are brought together for elementary school, and in an article in the school paper, teachers had spoken disparagingly of children from di Sotto. The vice mayor, who is from di Sotto, brought

the affair to the attention of a town council meeting. The council clerk

was extremely angry about the article and commented that it was ‘disgraceful that such campanilismo should infect even the school’. | was asked not to reprint the offending sentences. It seems that campanilistic sentiments are acceptable when they are expressions of homogenising, community creation. Campanilismo can

be employed as a kind of hegemonic device that conceals divisions so

that the moral cultural order, that is the order of the elite writ large, is

upheld. The extent to which there is a dissenting understanding of campanilismo is evident, however, in the tensions that exist within the

local community, for example in the internal relations and conflicts within the single frazione of San Fior di Sopra.

Internal Divisions and Campanilismo Religious and other festivals have been widely recognised as the vehicle of local identity.*? Campanilismo is, in fact, a religious metaphor. Although, as has been shown, the expression of campanilismo has a homogenising effect, it is also multi-centric and represents contesting views. Campanilismo, and by extension town identity, is constructed both through the relationships inhabitants have with outsiders and through the relations, conflicts and tensions that exist within the town.

An understanding of how intra-community tensions actually help construct the symbolic boundary of community provides insights into how problematic reciprocal relations between migrants and their kin work to reassert both ethnic and town identity. That religiosity orients town life is clearly evident in the importance bestowed on the religious calendar. That the word festa is used to refer to both religious feast days and secular holidays is an indication of the

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central position that religion has always held in the social life of the town. In the past, the only holidays were religious feste and the religious and agricultural calendars were closely associated. Religious festivals, for example, were often linked to collective activities such as

the harvest. In the Veneto, where the mezzadria system of sharecropping prevailed, particular saints’ days marked the beginning and end of the peasant’s land lease. These feast days are of no particular importance today and only the elderly remember them with precision. According

to Grazia, these ‘old saints’ days’ were effective until the late 1930s: ‘It

was the Second World War that changed everything’. Today, the main church celebrations that involve the individual and his or her family are baptism, communion, confirmation, marriage and death. The first and the last are events that signify the individual's entry into and exit from the town. Baptism marks the entry of a child into the Church and into the life of the community. Baptised children are given godparents who symbolise their place in the local community outside their own kin group. Godparents are usually townspeople with whom the baptised child’s parents have a relationship of mutual obligations and duties. The rites of communion and confirmation consolidate the child’s status as a member of the moral community represented by the parish. Marriage represents the beginning of a new family and the end of an old one, in the sense that the old family is changed. Marriage marks the rite of passage of an individual into adulthood and sistemazione. Death, in the anthropological sense, does

not signify the end of an individual's social life. Orsi argues that death provides ‘a moment of exceptional clarity in social relations, illuminating the private hierarchies and structures of loyalty and commitment in the community’.** An analysis of the social obligation to the dead in San Fior reveals, more clearly than does baptism or marriage, the nexus of individual, family and community identity. The living have a number of obligations to the dead which centre around the care and up-keep of the cemetery. Visits to the cemetery are a part of every person's life in San Fior. Men and women of all ages regularly pay their respects to deceased family and friends by visiting their graves. Usually the job of grave-tending falls to elderly women, many of whom visit the cemetery daily. A well-tended grave has a permanent light, a photograph of the deceased and a vase of flowers, and is kept neat. As an octogenarian, Grazia’s major contribution to town life was her diligent care of the cemetery. Despite her advanced years and painful arthritis, Grazia walked over a kilometre to the cemetery at least once a day. The manner in which Grazia tended the graves of her loved ones is testimony to the fact that much of her personal identity in the town rested on her duty to her deceased

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husband and also to the late Don Gregorio, the priest who baptised,

confirmed and married her.

A cemetery visit, in Grazia’s words, means ‘doing the rounds’. Grazia’s round begins with the old priest, Don Gregorio. The devotion shown by Grazia to this priest speaks of the central place he played in the life of the town during Grazia’s youth. Grazia then visits her husband's grave before proceeding to her brother's and sisters graves and her daughter's and sons’ graves. Finally, she visits the grave of her grandchild who died at birth. Grazia reasons that a visit to the cemetery involves tending to ‘all or none’. Everyone must receive the same treatment. The water and flowers of each grave are changed at least weekly. Flowers can always be straightened and their water topped up.

More important than these instrumental functions, the symbolic act of

visiting a grave is important in itself. Grave visiting in San Fior is also a

primarily public act. Even if people do not witness the visits of others,

the state of the graves of their kin is a public statement about how well

they are looked after. The only differentiating treatment Grazia gave was to her husband's grave. Each time she passed his grave she would greet him by kissing her hands and touching his photograph before blessing herself. Grazia described her husband’s grave as her ‘home base’. She would leave the flowers on his grave, taking a bunch at a time to one of the other

graves she was visiting. Each grave was checked to ensure the electric candle was on, and if it was not she would report the fact to a town clerk. The visits that 1 accompanied her on were always quite happy occasions. Grazia greeted and gossiped with the people she met on her round. She referred to the women of her generation who visited the cemetery after early morning mass as ‘regulars’. These women made sure the watering cans and cemetery broom and rake were properly stored beside the bins. They kept a watchful eye on all the recent

graves where the many and varied vases of flowers could easily be

blown over by the wind. They said special prayers for the recent dead as they passed their graves and generally made sure the cemetery was neat and tidy. The way Grazia and the other cemetery visitors tend the graves of their deceased relatives is a public display of family unity and morality. The duties and obligations to the dead are said to be just as important as the duties and obligations to the living. People find it comforting knowing they will be cared for even after they die. 1 found that many

elderly people feared being buried outside their town as no one would

tend to their graves.*” I was told by San Fiorese settled in Perth that, due to the costs involved, few people can afford to be returned to San Fior for burial.

However,

the care of the dead

is a tradition that is

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continued in Australia. Deceased individuals with family in Australia are looked after as well as they would be in Italy. To date, only one

deceased emigrant, Alessandro Benato, one of the earliest migrants to Perth, has been buried in San Fior, honouring a request he made before

he died in 1985.48

Of all the sayings about San Fior, Grazia found the one that says

there is no cemetery in San Fior, because everyone dies in prison, to be the most offensive and she would admonish anyone she heard repeating it. Grazia specifically asked me to write that the cemetery in San Fior is ‘large and beautifully looked after’, the truth of which I can attest to. The cemetery has, in fact, a central position in town, both literally and figuratively. It is situated behind the church, just off the piazza. The only events that really stop all business in the town, and that emigrants feel obliged to attend, are funerals.*9

According to Grazia and the ‘regulars’ of the early morning cemetery rounds, there is jealous rivalry between the townspeople of each frazione regarding the state of their cemeteries. This competition is discernible in the way inhabitants of each frazione describe their own cemeteries as better-kept or busier than others. The way cemeteries are tended and talked about makes them a vehicle for campanilismo. Of the three cemeteries in the shire of San Fior, di Sopra’s is the only one situated in the centre of the town. The grave diggers commented to me that the cemetery in San Fior di Sopra is never without visitors all day long. ‘It’s like Grand Central Station’, said one. In San Fior di Sotto, the cemetery is situated over 2 kilometres from the church in a sparsely populated zone. In Castello, the cemetery is near the church but it is still much less accessible than the one in di Sopra because it is nowhere near the piazza. During the two years that I lived in Italy, Grazia never once visited the cemeteries in di Sotto or Castello. Even so, she was adamant that

‘everyone knows’ that the cemetery in Castello is ‘posh and the people snobby’, while the cemetery in di Sotto is considered ‘ill-kent and rustic’. The truth of these claims is largely irrelevant; the fact that people like Grazia promote her frazione over the others is the central issue. Like weddings, funerals have become increasingly expensive and conspicuous displays of wealth and status in San Fior. A number of types of graves exist (ranging in price from $1000 to over $15 000), including family mausoleums, individual grave plots and wall spaces for coffins. The cemeteries are full of marble grave covers, elaborate head stones and sculptured statues which considerably add to the cost of funerals. The type of grave a family has is a clear indicator of social status. The way a grave is tended is an indication of respectability and civilta.

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The importance of the deceased to the lives of the living is also

evident in the ceremonies of both All Saints’ and All Souls’ days. All

Saints’ Day, celebrated on 1 November, is a holy day of obligation in the Catholic Church. It is a day to acknowledge those who have died, in particular close family and friends. Grazia and her peers explained that ‘the dead are like saints’. The following day is All Souls’ Day (referred to in popular parlance as the ‘day of the dead’) and, although it is not a holy day of obligation, many people in San Fior, particularly

the women, attend mass. As the women’ explanation implies, people

did not clearly distinguish between the two feast days. During the fortnight before All Saints’ and All Souls’ days, the cemetery is a hive of activity. People carefully clean and decorate the tombs of their relatives. Statues are repainted and any damage is repaired. On the penultimate day of October 1988, Grazia and I set off armed with scrubbing brush, mop, broom, detergent, rags and paint.

We scrubbed her husband's tomb, repainted the little white angel on the tomb of her grandchild and checked the appearance of every other relatives grave in the cemetery. We arranged fresh chrysanthemums (the flowers of the dead in Italy) on each family grave. All Saints’ Day is celebrated with a morning mass that includes a special blessing prior to communion. Before and after mass people make brief visits to the cemetery to spend time at the graves of their relatives. The flowers are admired, photos are touched and people talk and gossip with each other, making the occasion a happy one. Very

brief silences are observed as one gazes at the photograph of the deceased. At 3 p.m. (honoured as the time of Jesus death) a ceremony is held in the cemetery. The graves are blessed during a short service. Individuals stand beside the grave of their choice. Entire families may stand near the grave of a grandfather. Some families have all their deceased kin in one place. Other families divide themselves between

the various graves to ensure a representative stands beside each one.

People are free to choose which grave they wish to be near. Usually, the more recent burial sites have most people around them. Following a brief service, the priest leads a trail of altar boys around the cemetery as he blesses the graves with holy water and incense. The people sing and recite prayers. Mass is held again at 6 p.m., followed by rosary in the cemetery. The most important function of All Saints’ Day is the public display of properly attending to the dead. Attendance and work at the cemetery is a statement about caring for family and fulfilling community responsibilities.

It is customary for people to participate in the cer-

emony of the frazione in which they live. For women, this often means their husband's frazione. Women who were born in towns close by

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would briefly visit the cemeteries where their consanguinal kin are buried. After the ceremony in San Fior, as was expected of me, I left for Tarzo to visit my grandfather's grave with one of my aunts. During our visit, we walked all around the cemetery.

People chatted to each

other about their acquaintances among the deceased. Explanations of distant kin relations and the manner of death were shared. That campanilismo exists between the three frazioni is evident in the competition underlying the upkeep of the cemeteries. The care of the cemetery is thus an expression of local identity. Various layers of competition are, however, discernible in the cemetery. Competition is not only manifest between frazioni but also between families, notably, in their elaborate and costly grave sites. The expression of collective local identity through inter-frazione rivalry exists despite competition between members of the same frazione. The diligent manner in which inhabitants care for their family’s graves—and, by extension, their family’s reputation—ensures that their frazione maintains an enviable cemetery and, in consequence, a prestigious identity. In this way intrafrazione rivalry actually contributes to the construction of local identity and campanilismo. Although baptisms, deaths and marriages bring people together and establish relationships at individual, family and town levels, there are

several other religious feste that focus more specifically on community identity. The feast of the Pan e Vin is a popular religious tradition specific to the Veneto region. The Pan e Vin takes place on 5 January, the eve of the Epiphany, heralding the twelfth night after Christmas. The Epiphany commemorates the manifestation of the Christ child to the Magi. The words pan and vin are dialect for pane (bread) and vino (wine).

However,

the name

Pan e Vin is Veneto dialect for bonfire,

which in standard Italian is falo. Bonfires are lit, it is said, to guide the path of the three wise kings as they make their way to pay homage to the baby Jesus. The bonfire is constructed with three upright logs placed in a pyramid, each log representing a wise king. On top of the bonfire sits the Befana (witch), a character evoked

mainly among children.*° Described as a decrepit old woman, she is an ugly but most generous benefactor. On the night of the Epiphany, the Befana comes down the chimney with a huge sack full of toys which she distributes among the good children, leaving only ash and charcoal for the naughty ones. The bonfires are supposed to be made out of the year’s rubbish and with this is burnt a life-size model of the Befana who takes with her the evil of the past year. To celebrate the Pan e Vin, groups of local men and young boys construct bonfires in their frazione. Preparations usually begin on the weekend before the event. Any girl who gets in the way of the bonfire

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construction is threatened with, ‘you'll be used as the Befana’; boys are told that the Befana will try to court them. There is rivalry within and between the frazioni over both the size of the bonfire and the creative management of the Befana. Young people drive around the neighbouring towns to compare the grandeur of the bonfires. In 1988, in Tarzo, the Befana was made to ‘fly’ onto the bonfire along a wire extending from the church steeple. While the men are busy building the bonfires, the women prepare traditional Epiphany foods, in particular vin brulé (hot wine and sugar) and pinza (a corn flour bread cake filled with dried fruit). On the eve of the Epiphany, after the evening meal, when it is quite dark, the townspeople congregate around the various bonfires and sing songs while they watch the flames. It is said that the direction the smoke blows informs whether the coming year will be a good one or a bad one. Historically, the value of the year was measured in terms of agricultural production, as the following saying shows: Se il fum al tira matina, ciapa ’l sac e va a farina.

If the smoke blows to morning [west], take up your sack and go begging.

Se il fun a tira sera,

If the smoke blows to evening [east],

la polenta sulla cagliera.

there will be polenta in the copper pot.

This Epiphany celebration represents identification at a regional level, and yet the competitive construction of bonfires reveals both inter- and intra-town rivalries. These rivalries ensure that the Pan e Vin is celebrated with fervour every year. Unlike other feste, which are thought to be losing popularity, I was told that ‘each year the bonfires get bigger and better’. The fact that the Pan e Vin festa is specific to the Veneto ensures that it is jealously guarded by Veneti and engenders a campanilismo that extends across the region.?! Of all the town feste, Carnevale is thought to be the most commercialised, clearly reflecting the economic and social changes in the region. In San Fior, as in most other small towns in the area, Carnevale

has become a day for the children. Adults do not dress up unless they are going to an organised function or party. The larger urban centres, such as Conegliano, successfully draw large crowds to their pageants. The famous Venetian Carnevale (only an hour away by train) does not inspire much interest among the San Fiorese. One woman, Teresa, described Carnevale as a festa that follows different fashions: ‘during the 1960s people dressed up in rags like chimney sweeps. The 1990s has seen a boom in a pompous Carnevale. People organise costume parties and the various discos invite patrons to dress in costume. Then there is the parade in Conegliano’.

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In recent years the parish youth group, under the direction of the priest, Don Antonio, has organised a children’s Carnevale in the parish playground. The youth group, comprised mainly of teenagers, is an informal group in the sense that membership is not strict and participants can come and go as they please. In 1988, some of the older members put on the play, Cinderella. Over 250 children from the frazione were present and about 150 adults. Every child was in costume but only three adults had dressed up. The children’s costumes were expensive and well made. Many of them had been hired for the day. The costumes varied from traditional characters like Harlequin, Pulcinella and Balanzone,** to more contemporary personalities like cowboys, batman and superman. Older boys tended to dress in drag, some as nuns, and the older girls dressed as pop and film stars. Each family had brought a plate of traditional sweets and these were displayed on a table and offered to the children after the play had finished. The activities of the day did not seem to inspire any inter-frazione competition. However, an unofficial contest over whose child had the best costume took place in the conversations of the adult spectators. The children reflected in what they wore, both by the time taken to prepare, and the cost of, their costumes, the symbolic competition between their parents. The individual’ desire to make a bella figura, and the ensuing intra-frazione competition, ensured that Carnevale was a resounding success for the community of San Fior di Sopra. Besides the Pan e Vin and Carnevale, the various frazioni also celebrate their own specific annual festa. These feste, as one would expect, inspire jealous rivalry between the inhabitants of different towns and contribute to the construction of campanilismo at the level of the frazione. Each frazione has a patron saint and a festa is generally held to celebrate the patron's feast day. According to Orsi, the people’s ‘special devotion to the saint of their home town, [is] an affirmation of their

belonging to a particular paese ... Feste symbolized, celebrated, and helped to achieve the integration of individual destiny with communal solidarity’.** The patron saint of San Fior di Sopra is St John the Baptist but the town festa is held on the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, which is celebrated on the first Sunday in October. Don Gregorio allegedly changed the annual festa to a time when people were least busy with their work commitments so that everyone could participate in the celebrations. In many frazioni in Italy today, organisation of the town festa is conducted by the town Pro Loco. There is no Pro Loco in di Sopra and it is a tradition of the frazione that the young adults organise the annual festa. Italian society is stratified by age into classe (age cohorts). A classe is comprised of people born in a particular year. It is the classe of

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people in their eighteenth year that is responsible for the festa. The members of this cohort are singled out due to their coming of age as conscripts, for it is during their eighteenth year that young men are called to do military service. It is plausible that the annual town festa of the Madonna was left to the youth to organise due to the high rate of migration of adult men. When the youth organise the town festa it is not the first time they organise something for the frazione. Along with Carnevale, the parish youth group co-ordinates games and activities for children between the ages of six and twelve during the school holidays. These activities take place in the church yard playground and are called Estate Insieme (Summer Together). Nevertheless, the organisation of the festa is the first time a particular generation of youth is responsible for a function in which the whole frazione will take part. This age cohort identification locates the youth in a group outside their own families but within the confines of the frazione. Until that time, the main point of reference for these youths had been their family. The organisation of the festa represents something of a rite of passage for the classe members, from adolescence to adulthood. It brings together different components of the youths’ identity because their status as conscripts, particular age and frazione of origin are prerequisite

to their being organisers. Whether as members of their family, age

cohort, frazione or nation (as conscripts), what is most at issue for the

youth in their organisation of the festa is their public face. From the outset, the youth are keen to make a bella figura (good impression) through their conduct in the organisation of the festa. According to Thompson, ‘the concern with one’s bella figura, or “face”, is ever-present as a quite self-conscious guide to behaviour’.°? Thompson astutely

describes the cemetery, for example, as ‘witness to the immortality of

bella figura’°° where even in death the concern for public appearances does not end: ‘The concept is a measure of personal integrity, but it has little to do with one’s essence, character, intention, or other inner

condition; rather it centres upon public appearances’.>” The preoccupation with beautifying the graves of loved ones for All Saints’ and

all Souls’ days, and of dressing up one’s children for Carnevale, reveals

that an individual's figura reflects on his or her whole family. In the same way, within the context of organising the festa, the youth’ figura will reflect on the whole age cohort of the frazione. The manner in which entire frazioni are identified according to the business and comportment of some of its inhabitants reveals the connection between figura and identity. The classe’s attainment of moral worth within the town is symbolically achieved through the process of organising the town festa and making a bella figura.

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The annual festa represents a peak of public social activity in the frazione. Despite the general consensus that the festa’s popularity is declining, every year it makes more money and includes more diverse forms of entertainment. The rivalry between the various age cohorts over who can organise the best festa ensures that San Fior di Sopra can boast a successful festa each year. The annual intra-frazione competition over the festa helps to reconstruct the festa as a vital symbol of local community year after year. Competition between the classe is not the only rivalry which occurs. There is also great tension between the priest and the youth. This tension is the product of the division between popular and ‘papal’ (official) religion. Orsi makes a similar distinction between the Church and popular religion in his study of Italian Harlem, but further defines popular religion as having two separate meanings, which come together in an event like the festa of 115th Street: ‘Religion in the first sense, the rituals, symbols, prayers and practices of the celebration, is unintelligible apart from religion in the second sense, as the people's deepest values and perceptions of reality’. Popular religion, in this dual sense, is taken as the reflection of a people's world-view which is invariably removed from its official definition: ‘It is clear that the clergy and the people understood the celebration in different ways. The priests minimized the importance of the merry-making of the festa, insisting that all this noise and the smell of food were secondary to the real

purpose of the event, which was religious’.*°

As in Italian Harlem, the inhabitants of San Fior di Sopra refer to the Feast of the Rosary as having two parts. They make a clear distinction between what they call ‘the religious part’ and the ‘sagra’ part (sagra refers specifically to the village feast and does not have the connotation of religious feast which the word festa has). The ‘religious part’ includes a Sunday morning mass and a Sunday afternoon service with a procession through the streets of the town. The statue of the Madonna of the Rosary is carried through the town during the procession and the rosary is recited. These religious activities take place in the middle of a four-day sagra, which begins on the preceding Friday evening and concludes the following Monday night. I use the term festa to refer to both the religious and sagra parts. The organisation of the festa is not a simple affair. The relevant age cohort begins organising the sagra months in advance. Money has to be raised to cover the cost of the sagra, which is held in a huge marquee. Hiring and setting up the marquee is a major job and some of the youth take days off work or school for this purpose. Refrigeration, cookers and grills for the kitchen, a counter for the bar, a wooden dance floor and a raised stage are also hired and set

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up in the marquee. October is a relatively cool month so heating is often arranged. The religious part of the festa is organised and co-ordinated by the priest. However, the youth do have the privileged duty of carrying the statue of the Madonna of the Rosary in the procession. This duty, according to Don Antonio, is the focus of the religious part. Although youth participate in the procession with interest, carrying the statue is not the only highlight of the festa for them. The youth are generally more interested in the sagra, much to the chagrin of the priest. The festa begins on Friday evening with the opening of the bar. Meals are available every night of the festa. The food includes grilled chicken, sausages, potato chips, local cheeses and wine as well as traditional foods like radicchio salad and polenta. When allowed to cool, polenta becomes solid and can be sliced and grilled, a bit like toast. Because of the preparation required, polenta is purchased in readymade packets and is grilled. As discussed earlier, polenta was in the past the homemade staple of the poor. Packet polenta is today available in supermarkets, to the general distaste of the elderly who associate it with la miseria. The kiosk/bar is open from about 5.30 p.m. on Friday evening to 2 a.m. Saturday morning, reopening from 3 p.m. Saturday till late, and then again all day on Sunday. Friday night is usually reserved for a youth disco supported by a live band or disc jockey. On Saturday afternoon the age cohort organises games for the local children including running races and treasure hunts. Most people work on Saturday mornings and shops are open all day, thus there are not many organised activities for adults. The bar is open on Saturday afternoon and many people buy their dinner from the kiosk. That evening a dance is held (with ballroom-style dancing as opposed to disco), supported by a live band. A mass in honour of the Madonna of the Rosary takes place on Sunday morning at 10.30 a.m., and is usually celebrated by the local bishop. The sermon for the two years I was present was a reflection on the value of the family. The bishop stressed the importance of saying the rosary together as individual families and as a parish.’ Most people attend mass before returning home to have a meal with their extended family. Individuals who were born in di Sopra but have since moved to a neighbouring town, usually attend the Sunday mass and those who have relatives in the town are often invited to share Sunday lunch. | usually had Sunday lunch at my aunt’ house in Corbanese but, on the feast day of the Madonna of the Rosary, Grazia insisted that I celebrate the day with her in honour of the Madonna. After a short church ceremony at 2.30 p.m., everyone assembles outside the church for the beginning of the procession. In both 1988

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and 1989 there were fewer people at the afternoon service than there were at the mass. Many people, mainly men, waited outside the church for the procession

to commence

without

participating in the pre-

procession ceremony. Likewise, many people did not enter the church after the procession had finished but stood outside talking to friends and waiting for the closing prayers to end. The elderly who could not participate in the procession waited in the church. The priest directed the procession using a microphone, which was connected to a car. Elena (the policewoman) led the procession, leaving a gap of about 5 metres between herself and the others. This allowed her to direct the traffic and keep the route clear. Each year the altar boys head the procession carrying a crucifix. They are followed by the senior men of the town, all of whom are over forty years of age. Next come the school children, up to the age of about twelve years, who are kept in line by the local nuns. In the centre of the procession are the classe members. The male members are the statue bearers and the female members walk behind them. The remaining townspeople, mainly women, follow behind. The rosary is recited as the statue is carried around the town. More activities are organised for Sunday afternoon, but this time for the whole family, including traditional games like Tirosegno (similar to darts) and Pentolaccia (in which a blindfolded player hits suspended terracotta jars until they break; one jar contains a prize). Some form of entertainment is booked for Sunday evening to coincide with the meal. Monday evening concludes the festa with a grand fireworks display at about 10 p.m. The townspeople provide the finance for the sagra. A door-knock is held on the first Sunday in September to collect money from families in the frazione. In 1989, a total of three million lire was collected in this manner. The sagra is also sponsored by local businesses. Proprietors donate money in return for advertising on the festa’s poster. Large well-known industries outside the town are also approached for sponsorship. In total, the youth in 1989 collected four and a half million lire from sponsorship relating to the poster. In addition, money is made during the sagra—inexpensive meals are served and often the disco and ballroom dancing have an admission fee. The youth try to buy as much as possible from within the frazione, which allows them to pay only for what they use. The amount of meat, for example, is not pre-ordered and the butcher simply supplies the festa all weekend and charges the youth according to the quantity used. Left over wine is returned and mad dashes to get more polenta from the supermarket invariably occur a number of times over the weekend.

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In addition to the activities organised by the age cohort members and the priest, various sideshow alley entertainers request permission from the shire to set up their stalls and rides (including bumper cars, lucky dips, gambling games and sweet shops). The rides often begin on Thursday evening before the start of the festa proper. The sideshow alley entertainers are not hired by the festa organisers; they make it their business to follow the festa circuit in the region. The convent in San Fior organises an annual lottery. The nuns collect a variety of items from within and outside the town, ranging from stuffed toys to bicycles, which are auctioned. The proceeds go to the Order's missions in Brazil. For some years now, the tension between the priest and the youth regarding the importance of the two parts of the festa has caused a division between them. The division appears to represent the decreasing power of the church in town life. According to popular opinion, Don Antonio believes the sagra has ‘taken over’ the festa. He would not talk to me about it himself, perhaps because he saw me as aligned with the youth of the town. Chiara, one of the main organisers of the sagra in 1989, explained that the role as statue bearers played by the classe might be small, but was significant: ‘It is taken for granted that the young men and women of the relevant classe will turn up at the right time and carry the statue without any former organisation. They turn up even if they do not normally attend mass’. Despite their presence at the procession, youth tend to focus their energies on the sagra, to the almost total disregard of the activities that take place inside the church. Town space can be divided into two domains—the religious and the profane—referred to by inhabitants as the campo spirituale (church)

and the campo materiale (town). Campo means field or area and is often

used with reference to small piazze.° The only clear connection

between the two parts of the festa is the procession—because it occurs outside the church. It is only during the procession that the age cohort members are visibly important to the formal religious celebrations. The young men carry the statue around the campo materiale. The division of space in the festa is arranged with intersections between the sacred and the profane: Profane sagra

piazza classe

Intersection

Sacred

procession

mass

shire council (mayor)

priest

parish meeting rooms

In the years 1986-88, the tension between of the festa, the priest and the youth, had control of space. Every year, the youth need to the sagra, and the appropriate meeting place

church

the two main proponents been played out in the meet in order to organise is the parish rooms. As a

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general rule, the youth do not invite the priest to their meetings. In 1989, the youth decided to begin meeting in early July but Don Antonio refused them access to the parish rooms. The youth felt sure the priest was deliberately trying to thwart their plans because he was against the sagra. One member explained: ‘Don Antonio is against us, the parish rooms were probably booked, but even so he could have organised a solution. He wanted to do this’. The youth felt it was their right to use the rooms because ‘the parish belongs to everyone’. The perceived obstruction of the priest increased the youth's determination to organise the ‘biggest sagra ever’. They decided to roster meetings at different members’ houses and in each of these homes they were very well received. Parents were just as keen as their children for the sagra to be a success. In September 1989, closer to the date of the feast day, the youth were given access to the parish rooms where they began meeting weekly. At one such meeting, about a week before the event, the priest stopped the first group (five youths and myself) as they entered the parish grounds. Don Antonio lectured to the youth on the importance of participating in the mass and service on Sunday. He told them that in 1987, on the Saturday before the festa, all the conscripts went to confession, implying that they had all received communion and, therefore, that they had all attended the Sunday mass: ‘Instead, last year no one confessed and only three or four were at the service’. He pointed out that ‘there would always be plenty of youth to carry the statue’, and that the previous year the townspeople had commented on the lack of participation in the mass by the classe. Don Antonio's reference to the behaviour of the 1988 age cohort as something the townspeople had commented on represented an admonition to the 1989 cohort regarding their figura. The five youths assured Don Antonio that they would attend the mass, but being four young women and one young man they later joked about how perhaps the young man would have to carry the statue alone: ‘Or the girls would!’ The latter comment was found to be more amusing than the former. There were then jokes about the women carrying the statue: ‘It would make history ... The first time the Madonna was carried by the women ... The first time the Madonna was broken’. It is apparent, from these five youths’ reaction, that, despite Don Antonio’ efforts to get them to attend mass, the youths were still focused on their role as statue bearers. I expected the discussion with the priest to be brought up later at the meeting. Instead, nobody mentioned it. Everyone knew what the priest wanted, but there was little concern about the mass. By far, the most significant display of tension between the priest and the youth

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(and therefore between the sagra and the religious part), expressed in the control of space, concerned the position of the marquee. The relationship between the priest and the youth became increasingly strained through the month preceding the festa, the tension manifesting itself most clearly in the fight over where the marquee was to be set up. This had also been the centre of the tension in the few years before

1989.

The marquee had always been erected in the piazza. But in 1986, it had to be relocated to a part of the road that was in front of the church, as construction had begun on a new shire council building at the edge of the piazza. Since then, a fight has occurred every year between the youth and the priest regarding the position of the marquee. The priest wants it kept in the piazza, discreetly distant from the church and the campo spirituale. Because of the limited space now available in the piazza, the youth want to block off the main entrance to the town and set up the marquee there. The main entrance to the town, however, leads directly to the church. This struggle would eventually be brought before the mayor and the officers in the shire. Each year the youth have won the struggle and each year the priest has become more belligerent. The subject of the youth’ final meeting in 1989 was the position of the marquee. The chief organiser reported that the mayor had told them to set it up in the piazza. This news brought an immediate rumble of disapproval: ‘It’s the work of the priest’, one said. The youth were well aware that the priest did not want the marquee set up in front of the church. They wanted the marquee set up in the same place it had been in 1987 and 1988. They reasoned that if they were to set up in the piazza there would be no room for the sideshow alley. Added to this was the concern that if it rained they would be flooded out because the piazza was still unsealed due to the construction work. The youth nominated two representatives to speak to the mayor the following day. Another meeting was organised but the venue was changed from the parish rooms to someone’ house. The classe had to plan how to ‘beat the priest’. The result of the meeting with the mayor, however, was negative. He disapproved of the road closure because it congested traffic and restricted entrance to some of the shops along the street. Despite the fact that the mayor had not mentioned the priest when explaining his motives for not approving the road closure, the youth interpreted the mayor's position as ‘the work of the priest’. They organised another delegation to see the mayor, this time with the support of an influential parent. Together they asked him to reconsider. Later that day some of the youth and a representative from the municipal council strutted about the piazza arguing about how

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they could set up the marquee. Measurement of the piazza showed that the marquee would not fit. The youth had exaggerated the size of the marquee somewhat but they explained that, if they had not been allowed to close the road, the sideshow would have nowhere to be set

up. I checked this claim with the managers of two sideshow stalls and two game-rides and they all reported that if the marquee were set up in the piazza, they could easily find space either in the car park and adjacent vacant lot behind the new municipal council building or along the side of the road that circles the piazza. Although it was not stated,

it seemed clear to me that the main reason the youth wanted the marquee in front of the church was to defy the priest. The youth won. Permission was granted to close the road from the last Wednesday in September to the first Wednesday in October. If the marquee was not cleared by the required time, a three million lire fine would be charged. The value of the fine simply added to the sense of importance already felt by the youth in their perceived victory over the priest. On the following Wednesday, a group of youths began building the marquee. Two of the young men had taken the day off work, others had organised to take the following day off and so on. There were always a couple of young women present who would help out by running errands. That afternoon there were ten or so young men and about the same number of young women present. The youths intended to finish constructing the frame of the marquee that day. While the construction was taking place, Don Antonio walked by with a very stern expression on his face and not so much as a glance at the youths. 1 was walking across the piazza with Elena, and Don Antonio hurried

after us demanding to know who had given the youth permission to build the marquee in front of the church. Elena explained that she was simply following orders from supervisors and knew nothing of the decision-making. ‘The church is treated like a latrine’, huffed Don Antonio, as he headed for the council building. He was going to complain to the mayor. As we watched him depart, Elena told me that Don Antonio always had the youth against him: ‘Last year, after creating trouble about the position of the marquee and losing to the youth, then making life difficult for them, the classe were thinking of not giving any of the proceeds to the church. They threatened to spend most of the money on classe dinners. Don Antonio was wild’. Elena predicted that this year the same would happen. The youth emphasised their sense of victory by hanging a large white banner with the words ‘W CLASSE DEL ’71’ (long live the class of ’71) on the front of the marquee, directly facing the church. Many people told me that religious sentiment was stronger in days gone by and, as evidence, they would point out that today the sagra is

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better frequented than the formal religious part of the festa or that the route of the procession is shortened every year. However, in both 1988 and 1989, the majority of classe members attended the pre-procession ceremony. After talking to people who had organised the festa in previous years, I came to the conclusion that there has always been a good attendance

of classe members

at the religious ceremony

that

precedes the procession. The priest's antagonism towards the youth stems, not from their lack of participation in the formal religious part of the festa, but rather, from the comparative success of the sagra over the religious rites. Yet, the success of the sagra appears to enhance the success of the festa as a whole. The distinction between the two parts of the festa is an arbitrary one: the sagra is intrinsic to the religious meaning of the festa. That religious education ceased to be taught in schools in 1988 is considered evidence by many that town life is becoming less religious. Today, catechism is left to the parish priest and his advisory body. This change is thought to mark the demise of the centrality of the priest to town life. Another view, however, is that parishioners have had to take

a greater responsibility in parish affairs, a situation that does not necessarily imply the decline of religion. Alberto, a man in his early thirties who is very active in the parish, explained that:

The traditional parish system was comprised of a priest and parishioners who met at mass. The priest was in control of all religious affairs and town life was much more religious in general. Today, the religiosity of a parish is increasingly the concern of parishioners. The parishioner’ duty no longer begins and ends with attendance at mass and religious feste.

While the outcome of the festa reveals Don Antonio’ limited success in influencing the ‘goings on’ in the campo materiale, he has successfully implemented many changes in the campo spirituale of the frazione. His most popular ventures, by far, have been the parish playground and youth group. The campo giochi (playground) was established in 1980 directly behind the church, in what had been the parish vineyard. It became a meeting place for young people of the frazione and, with Don

Antonio’s encouragement,

a parish youth

group

was formed.

Today, half the playground has an asphalt surface used interchangeably as a tennis, basketball and volleyball court. There is a grassy area with children’s swings and even a bocce alley, albeit rundown and disused. The playground is surrounded by high cement walls and is accessed

through a narrow gate near the church. The high walls and gate keep

the children safe but also discretely divide the campo spirituale from

the campo materiale. Opposite the church, in front of the playground

The Social Construction of Campanilismo

145

and adjacent to the piazza, is a park which has become notorious as a meeting place for drug users. The park is on the main road and so is accessible to outsiders. On Summer evenings, families meet in the playground. In 1989, an average of 150 people were present, with about five married couples on duty. The parish playground is mainly the domain of young married couples, their small children and adolescents. Don Antonio’s campo giochi successfully attracts the interest of children up to the age of about sixteen. The young single people in di Sopra, between the ages of 17 and 25 years, generally have little interest in parish activities, except, of course, for the town festa.

The festa, and in particular the sagra, provide an opportunity for people to come together as a frazione in support of the town’s future adults, who represent the town’s future identity. The youth take the challenge of organising the sagra very seriously. They are conscious that they are being both trusted and tested with adult responsibilities. They receive no help from the council, or the parish, unless they specifically request it, although they do seek advice from the previous year’s organisers, and parents lend a hand. All the youth I interviewed from the classe organising the sagra in 1989 impressed upon me with great pride that they were left to their own devices: The sagra is not meant to be a profit-making event, it is done for tradition and for one’s duty to the town. Last year the classe made lots of money, they had lovely weather. The classe from two years ago broke even, although it rained. It has never happened that the classe cannot pay its debts. If this were to occur it is a real problem because there is no financial back up. The shire would not cover it {although it has never been tried], the priest is already against the sagra so he would not help. The classe would probably have to organise other fund-raising events so the townspeople would pay.

For one weekend in October, the youth stand out in the town as special. On the Thursday before the festa was due to commence, the class of 1971 had been working in the rain from about 6 p.m. determined to complete the construction of the marquee. At about 11 p.m., when the marquee was ready, the youth entered the local ice-cream parlour and were met with applause. Usually patrons wear their very best clothes but the young conscripts that evening came in saturated from the rain and dirty from their work, yet nobody expressed distaste. They were the heroes of the day. The classe members made a bella figura by showing how seriously they took their responsibility. The usual dress-related bella figura no longer applied. At the ice-cream parlour that evening everyone chatted about their own sagra. One

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young woman spoke about how the age cohort prior to hers left many things in a mess and consequently the townspeople were not prepared to trust her classe the following year. It is essential that the youth make a bella figura she said, because their sagra will be remembered by their

peers.

Organising the sagra is talked about by the youth as a duty and most look forward to their turn. One young man explained: No one has to be told when it is their turn to prepare the festa, no one does it for money. Living in the town one begins to look forward to their eighteenth year and their organisation of the sagra. You feel grown up and responsible for the festa. The preparations are things we don’t know how to do . . . In other towns the Pro Loco organises the town festa. They have experience, they know about publicity, numbers etc. For us youth it’s all new.

The experience of organising the festa reinforces the youth’s connections to each other and to their frazione. From the year of their sagra onwards, occasional reunions, called ‘class dinners’ are organised. One

young woman explained ‘the first meals are paid for with the money made at the sagra, then a dinner is organised annually to keep in contact’. Given the number and variety of options for leisure available today, the fact that the young people organise the town sagra is noteworthy in itself. That they do so with pride and responsibility is even more significant. Each year, a new item is incorporated into the program in the hope that it will be a memorable event. People love to be able to recount what they had in their year that was different. New items are included partly as a competitive effort to have a ‘better’ sagra and partly to attract people to attend. Stefania, who helped organise the festa in 1987, told me that, as a young girl, she always participated in the sagra, but, as she has got older, the amount of time spent at the sagra has reduced. The sagra remains, however, an important point of contact

for the townspeople: ‘It is always enjoyable to attend the festa because you invariably meet old friends’. Stefania predicts that the festa will continue in the future: ‘It is difficult to let such things go, they become tradition, part of you. You tell your children about your sagra and the whole experience links your classe together’. In 1989, about a thousand youths attended the Friday night disco.

The majority were between 16 and 25 years of age, of whom at least 70 per cent were from San Fior. The youth say that attendance drops

every year because there are so many social alternatives available today.

Younger youth attend the sagra more than older youth because they are less likely to be allowed to attend discos outside the town. Older

The Social Construction of Campanilismo

147

youth often use the marquee as a meeting point before going on to other venues. On the Friday night of the festa in 1988, after meeting for a meal at the kiosk and ‘checking out’ the disco, the group of youths I knew visited a similar festa in a neighbouring town, then went to Vittorio Veneto to an ice-cream parlour. On Saturday these same

youth met at the sagra for dinner before going on to a disco. This use of the sagra as a meeting place is similar to the way youth use the Laguna Social Club in Perth. Campanilismo is nominated as that which unifies a town and yet it is multi-centric, bearing witness to the social, topographical, ancestral, gendered, class-based and generational divisions within the town’s inhabitants. Campanilismo embraces variation, conflict and change and

is constructed, along with town identity, not only through relations with outsiders but also through tensions and conflicts within the frazione. The Feast of the Holy Rosary, for example, is celebrated with a festa in two neighbouring towns: Cappella Maggiore and Bibano; both are in the same province as San Fior. In 1988, I visited Cappella’s sagra with a group of young people from di Sopra. My companions found Cappella’s festa less frequented and less impressive than San Fior’s. It was difficult for me to gauge the validity of this judgment, as we only stayed for a very brief time. In fact, | wondered why we had gone at all if not for the explicit purpose of saying that San Fior's sagra was better. The competition between neighbouring towns over whose festa is better is not nearly as great as the rivalry between the age cohorts over the success of their sagra. One young woman, Eliana, reminisced about the sagra in 1986 when, she said, the festa played a more important part in town life. She asserted that more people had attended ‘her’ festa than the ones that had followed it. Given the competitive nature of the festa, evaluation of different feste varies greatly according to who the evaluator is. Naturally, young people remember their sagra as the best. The Pan e Vin festa, Carnevale and the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary are the only community ceremonies that take place in the frazione of San Fior di Sopra. The apparent success of the celebrations that I witnessed in 1988 and 1989 contradicts the view held by townspeople that these feste are in decline. That the feste are changing is undeniable, but it seems people are interpreting change as demise, in the same way that the loss of culture thesis is used to explain the effects of migration on ethnicity. The priest and his parish have had to develop a new relationship as religious matters are separated increasingly from other aspects of town life. Despite the changes, the ceremonies still attest to the central importance of the church to the identity of its parishioners.

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Anthony Cohen has shown that symbolism is highly responsive to change because it does not carry meaning inherently: ‘Therefore, the form can persist while the content undergoes significant transformation’.©! Teresa’s comment that Carnevale in San Fior follows different fashions attests to this festa’s responsiveness to change. Ritual, therefore, has the ability to reassert community boundaries in the face of great social and economic change. Ritual can also contain severe intra-community tensions. It is this ‘oppositional character’ that Cohen describes as the ‘most striking fea-

ture of the symbolic construction of community and its boundaries’.®

Boundaries are relational; they mark the community in relation to other

communities.® This is also true for intra-community boundaries. It is

not only neighbouring frazioni that are defined and constituted in relation to each other. So too are groups within individual frazioni. The campo spirituale is defined vis-a-vis the campo materiale. The age cohort and the priest are also defined in relation to each other, as are the

migrants in Perth and their townspeople in San Fior. The drama between the youth and the priest represents a reversal of the normal relationship between them. Normally, the priest is treated with great respect and the campo spirituale is kept separate from the campo materiale. Cohen points out that ‘in these rituals of reversal, people behave quite deliberately and collectively in ways which they supposedly abhor or which are usually proscribed’. This inversion of norms of behaviour and values represented by the take-over of the campo spirituale actually works to reassert the central position of the church in the minds of the actors. After all the competitive fighting between the priest and the age cohort members, the latter still attend the religious part of the festa and still contribute a considerable sum of money to the church coffers. It is the tensions between the priest and the youth that define their respective identities and positions in the town.

Likewise,

the

problematic

reciprocal

relations

between

the

visiting migrants and their townspeople emphasise the social cohesion within which the conflict exists. The fact that campanilismo in San Fior embraces variation, conflict and change reveals that it is not inimical to the incorporation of migrants. What of the emigrants settled abroad in distant Australia? What is their experience of campanilismo? In Thompson's view, the central position that religious traditions occupy in the life of the town she studied, and the intensity of the emotional attachment to them, meant

that ‘separation from these customs must have left a void which is not easily filled’. Even if the traditions were transported to Australia, ‘the atmosphere is (understandably) reported to be quite different’.©? The void which Thompson suggests was created by migration implies, if

The Social Construction of Campanilismo

149

not a loss of tradition, then at least an irreparable break with it. My work suggests, however, that there has been a continual recreation and

transformation of tradition in the host country, influenced, in part, by visits home. A new reality, rather than a void, is created by the migration experience. Just as seasonal migration entailed annual returns in a culturally acceptable economic strategy, so visiting home has also become a tradition of the new reality. Orsi describes the festa of the Madonna of 115th Street as an annual pilgrimage that symbolises the immigrant’s migration. At the shrine, the immigrant finds spiritual renewal and peace: ‘By the late 1940s, the theme of the weary traveller had been formalized into the rather standard spiritual idea of the shrine as a resting place on life's journey, but what may have been a spiritual cliche for others would always

have a special meaning for the immigrants’.

The San Fior migrants’ visits home are ritualised moves that reassert the symbolic boundary of their campanilismo. The many signs and symbols of San Fior in people’s homes in Australia are like the relics brought back from religious pilgrimages. Many of these signs and symbols are tokens collected on visits and so have come to symbolise visits. | was taken on a tour around several San Fiorese houses in Australia and on each one treated to descriptions of special mementoes, the special ‘media of contact’ that ensured people's continued connections with their home town. Orsi cites Jacob Riis, who commented in

1899 that the ‘real Italian man’ was glimpsed ‘with the saint's statue’. The saint, said Riis: meant ‘home and kindred, neighborly friendship in a strange land, and the old communal ties’.®” The immigrants obtained these images in ways that linked them directly to the old paese and to the many emotions of the ocean crossing.

5

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

The common goal of sistemazione and the shared campanilismo of San Fiorese migrants and townspeople have ensured the continuous relationships of reciprocity between them, proof that the San Fiorese migration is transnational interaction. To understand the process of migration fully, it is necessary to locate individual migrations within the interpersonal relationships of family life and therefore in the life of the town. Historically, what it means to be sistemato (set up) has changed, just as the symbolic construction of campanilismo has changed. Although San Fior and Perth are physically separate, they also represent ideas of places that, to the San Fiorese, form part of the same social field. The San Fiorese in both places identify with the same key symbols and are directed in their lives by the same systematic repertoire of ideas, which comprise the San Fiorese cul-

tural world.!

While San Fiorese everywhere may be connected through shared symbols and cultural goals, they are also separated by marked differences. These internal divisions do not necessarily represent disunity

and may actually work to reassert community identity. Clearly San Fior has different ‘types’ of migrants and, therefore, a variety of experiences of migration, including the experiences of the townspeople who have never migrated. Each group can be differentiated according to age, gender and social class, as well as by time and type of migration. The different types of migrants have their own experiences of, and therefore their own discourses on, migration.

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151

The variety of migration experiences need to be understood in a

historical context, both of the home and host country. In addition, the

changing personal, collective and state processes that affect the lives of migrants must be taken into account. Barth calls these the micro (personal), median (collective) and macro (state) processes that affect

migration.” Emigration is predominantly talked about as something of the past by the townspeople. My interest in migration inspired people in San Fior to teach me about their past. In Tarzo, I was told similar stories and had already begun to learn the key words and phrases that people used to classify their history. I learnt about the people's history as they understood and constructed it from the present context.> Appropriately, the word for history and story are the same in Italian— storia.

The Townspeople’s Storia: images and adages of migration Every family in San Fior has had some experience of migration, either first-hand or through their relatives and friends. As Gobato, the local

historian, told me: There have always been the migrants. The migrants follow the path of their forefathers ... The migrants sent or brought home those earnings which ‘gave oxygen to the family’. Their sacrifices kept their families alive. Every family is familiar with migration and the hard life it entails. ‘The migrants’ bread has seven crusts’. . . You cannot imagine the poverty and hardship and sacrifice of migration ... It was an obligation—the hardship, the suffering.

An analysis of the shire’s anagraphic records reveals that, of the 6961 residents recorded in San Fior from the turn of the century to 1989, a total of 6115 people (88 per cent) registered a change in residence.* Of these, 1389 (20 per cent) migrated outside Italy, while the remaining 4726 (68 per cent) moved within Italy. Only 846 (12 per cent) of people born in San Fior never registered any change of address. Of the 68 per cent of internal migrants, the majority were women moving at marriage and the vast majority, for both sexes, moved to neighbouring towns within the province of Treviso.? Given the high incidence and long history of migration in San Fior, it is not surprising that migration is considered by townspeople to be a characteristic of their town’s identity. For example, people I interviewed explained to me that, in many ways, the San Fiorese rag collectors undertook a type of internal migration. Because of their livelihood, they had to wander, often great distances from their town, in search of rags and scrap metal. This ambulatory work predisposed the San

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men migrated for seasonal work, leaving their families in Italy. Households were of the extended type and those families who could not support all their members on the land employed the economic strategy of seasonal migration following agricultural cycles. Seasonal migration made it possible for extended families to survive on inadequate land. Sistemazione, at this time, basically meant maintaining the extended

family: ‘The decision to emigrate was a family decision, taken as part of a broader family strategy for survival . . . In many cases, emigration was the only way a family could hope to preserve itself as a family . . . the decision to emigrate was taken on its behalf’. Veneto migration history since Unification includes three major waves of movement. The first was immediately after the unification of Italy; between 1870 and 1900 about 2 million Veneti migrated to South America.!° Many people allegedly returned poorer than when they had left. According to Gobato: ‘The migrants would leave together in February after St Valentine's day and would return before Christmas’. The next two great migration waves occurred after each of the world wars, when people left in great numbers for countries including Canada and Australia. In the early 1990s, the only out-migration of any significance was to Germany.

Migration to South America initially reflected the seasonal pattern of migration to neighbouring European countries. Many people (mainly men) actually commuted annually between South America and Italy.!! After World War I, people began to migrate to North America and later, when the USA brought in hostile legislation (in 1921 and 1924),

Australia; this trend continued with even greater numbers after World War II. The migratory pattern changed from being seasonal to one where the migrant spent the necessary number of years abroad to raise the funds to finance his own sistemazione back home. The greater the time spent abroad, the more likely a man was to arrange for his wife or fiancée to emigrate also. Sistemazione continued to mean establishing oneself with house and family, but the house was modern and the family nuclear. Instead of contributing to an extended household, the migrants were now attempting to feather their own nests.

The San Fior migrants’ choice of destination reflected their intention

to repatriate.

Prior to World

War

II, seasonal and guest-work in the

neighbouring European countries provided the perfect opportunity for men to support families who remained in San Fior. After the war, despite the prospects of employment in the industrial triangle of the north (Milan, Turin and Genoa), the San Fiorese preferred to migrate

abroad to the Americas and Australia, where there were opportunities for self-employment. This decision to migrate suggests the San Fiorese

rejected proletarianisation, which would have meant relocating to urban

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

155

centres in Italy. The San Fiorese preferred to sacrifice a number of years doing hard labour abroad because their intention was to return with the savings required to set themselves up in their home towns. Corresponding to the changes in the meaning of sistemazione were

changes in the characterisation of the migrant. As already noted, the migrant is, at one and the same

time, the town’s painful sacrifice,

deserter-escapee and lucky fortune-seeker. The town is both an unfit provider and an abandoner of its children; it is both remorseful and forgiving. These conflicting dimensions reflect the problematic reciprocal relations between migrants and their townspeople, which are mobilised through migration. One image frequently invoked by those I interviewed was of a poor but honest man (like themselves, or, as some would have it, as people once were), pushing a wheelbarrow that held his few meagre possessions, preparing to set off on a long journey by foot in search of work abroad. This is the archetypal image of the seasonal European migrant of the early twentieth century.!3 A more recent image is that of the permanent migrant who left for LAmerica, ‘land of opportunity’, after World War II. This migrant was dressed in his best clothes and carried a suitcase tied with string.!t There are corresponding images of these migrants ‘returning’—the former, still on foot; the latter, the fat, wealthy

americano.°

It is generally accepted that the period of la miseria in the Veneto

stemmed from the unification of Italy (1861) and continued until after

World War II (1955). The time of greatest economic crisis occurred during the early 1930s. In general historical terms, the Veneto was known during this era as ‘the south of the north’, being the most economically depressed of the northern regions.!° La miseria is characterised by hunger and not having enough to eat, or at least not having a healthy diet. It is often referred to as i tempi magri (the thin times), or il tempo del fame (the time of hunger). The disease identified with the period is pellagra, said to be caused by eating too much polenta.!” The polenta itself was not to blame, but rather the fact that little else was available to eat. Lack of variety in the diet caused deficiencies in many vital nutrients. The bleakest accounts of la miseria are associated with the southern regions of Italy. Described by one analyst as ‘more than a set of material conditions’, la miseria was seen as ‘poverty turned into a philosophical outlook’. Under these conditions, the possibility of constructing and directing one’s own social, political and economic life does not exist: ‘The cosmic order is not perceived as a stimulus to do but as an admonition to accept’.!8 References to the fatalism of southern Italians is a major theme in the literature.!9 Fatalism does not seem to be such

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men migrated for seasonal work, leaving their families in Italy. Households were of the extended type and those families who could not support all their members on the land employed the economic strategy of seasonal migration following agricultural cycles.§ Seasonal migration made it possible for extended families to survive on inadequate land. Sistemazione, at this time, basically meant maintaining the extended family: ‘The decision to emigrate was a family decision, taken as part of a broader family strategy for survival . . . In many cases, emigration was the only way a family could hope to preserve itself as a family . . . the decision to emigrate was taken on its behalf’? Veneto migration history since Unification includes three major waves of movement. The first was immediately after the unification of Italy; between 1870 and 1900 about 2 million Veneti migrated to South

America.!° Many people allegedly returned poorer than when they

had left. According to Gobato: ‘The migrants would leave together in February after St Valentine's day and would return before Christmas’. The next two great migration waves occurred after each of the world wars, when people left in great numbers for countries including Canada and Australia. In the early 1990s, the only out-migration of any significance was to Germany.

Migration to South America initially reflected the seasonal pattern of migration to neighbouring European countries. Many people (mainly

men) actually commuted annually between South America and Italy.!!

After World War I, people began to migrate to North America and later, when the USA brought in hostile legislation (in 1921 and 1924), Australia;? this trend continued with even greater numbers after World

War II. The migratory pattern changed from being seasonal to one where the migrant spent the necessary number of years abroad to raise the funds to finance his own sistemazione back home. The greater the time spent abroad, the more likely a man was to arrange for his wife or fiancée to emigrate also. Sistemazione continued to mean establishing oneself with house and family, but the house was modern and the family nuclear. Instead of contributing to an extended household, the migrants were now attempting to feather their own nests. The San Fior migrants’ choice of destination reflected their intention

to repatriate. Prior to World War II, seasonal and guest-work in the neighbouring European countries provided the perfect opportunity for men to support families who remained in San Fior. After the war, despite the prospects of employment in the industrial triangle of the north (Milan, Turin and Genoa), the San Fiorese preferred to migrate

abroad to the Americas and Australia, where there were opportunities for self-employment. This decision to migrate suggests the San Fiorese rejected proletarianisation, which would have meant relocating to urban

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

155

centres in Italy. The San Fiorese preferred to sacrifice a number of years doing hard labour abroad because their intention was to return with the savings required to set themselves up in their home towns. Corresponding to the changes in the meaning of sistemazione were changes in the characterisation of the migrant. As already noted, the migrant

is, at one and the same

time, the town’

painful sacrifice,

deserter-escapee and lucky fortune-seeker. The town is both an unfit provider and an abandoner of its children; it is both remorseful and forgiving. These conflicting dimensions reflect the problematic reciprocal relations between migrants and their townspeople, which are mobilised through migration. One image frequently invoked by those | interviewed was of a poor but honest man (like themselves, or, as some would have it, as people once were), pushing a wheelbarrow that held his few meagre possessions, preparing to set off on a long journey by foot in search of work abroad. This is the archetypal image of the seasonal European migrant

of the early twentieth century.!3 A more recent image is that of the

permanent migrant who left for LAmerica, ‘land of opportunity’, after World War II. This migrant was dressed in his best clothes and carried a suitcase tied with string.'* There are corresponding images of these migrants ‘returning’—the former, still on foot; the latter, the fat, wealthy

americano.'°

It is generally accepted that the period of la miseria in the Veneto stemmed from the unification of Italy (1861) and continued until after

World War II (1955). The time of greatest economic crisis occurred

during the early 1930s. In general historical terms, the Veneto was known during this era as ‘the south of the north’, being the most economically depressed of the northern regions.!© La miseria is characterised by hunger and not having enough to eat, or at least not having

a healthy diet. It is often referred to as i tempi magri (the thin times), or

il tempo del fame (the time of hunger). The disease identified with the period is pellagra, said to be caused by eating too much polenta.!” The polenta itself was not to blame, but rather the fact that little else was available to eat. Lack of variety in the diet caused deficiencies in many vital nutrients. The bleakest accounts of la miseria are associated with the southern regions of Italy. Described by one analyst as ‘more than a set of material conditions’, la miseria was seen as ‘poverty turned into a philosophical outlook’. Under these conditions, the possibility of constructing and directing one’s own social, political and economic life does not exist: ‘The cosmic order is not perceived as a stimulus to do but as an admonition to accept’.!® References to the fatalism of southern Italians

is a major theme in the literature.!9 Fatalism does not seem to be such

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a central identifying characteristic of works on northern Italians.?°

Certainly, the stories I collected about the ‘ingenious’ San Fiorese are devoid of any reference to fatalism. However, in the northern regions

of Veneto, Friuli and Lombardy, la miseria had one of the same effects

as it did in the south—emigration. In the context of la miseria it is easy to see how migration was perceived as an escape to potential fortune: ‘The lack of continuity between reality and ideality, the inability to “achieve” or to “realize”,

leads in the world of la miseria to the desire to flee the ugly reality of

everyday life and to reach, by a magic leap, the “other”, the ideal side of existence’?! The mayor of San Fior recalled that his relatives who had migrated to Australia were thought of with a mixture of pride and envy: Every now and then a pound or two arrived from Australia... and it was like receiving manna from heaven. To avoid paying tax, [my aunt] hid the money in a letter so that it would pass through customs undetected. The money, not a familiar sight, did un giro del borgo (travelled the circuit of the houses) so that everyone could admire it ... The money was invariably used to buy food.

Migrants in Australia sent home parcels of coffee—a luxury—and

wool,

which

explained damaged packages often the a reply of

was

that ‘a so that arrived families thanks,

la miseria.?*

used

for clothes.

Roberto,

the mayor's

brother,

family made a bella figura if the package was a little its contents could be seen’. Of course, when the there was a celebration. The mayor explained that in San Fior couldn't afford to buy a stamp to send a fact he suggested was emblematic of the ‘time’ of

Many townspeople, like the mayors family, depended on their emigrant relatives for survival. Talking to Don Giovanni, I gained a sense of the huge responsibility he had felt for his parishioners during those ‘thin times’. Don Giovanni established a special altar in the church, called l’altare del Sacro Cuore (the altar of the sacred heart), in

honour of the emigrants. The altar boasted its very own statue of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart and on the first Friday of every month, a mass would be offered for i nostri lontani (our distant ones) and a special Hail Mary would be said for them. The lighted candles on the emigrant’ altar, each one representing the sacred heart of a distant loved one, was like a light left on for them, awaiting their return. They were far from forgotten by the town, their place was kept in it and they were expected to return. The existence of the altar attests to the fact that migration is not simply about departure but about links to the home town. Don Giovanni’ altar was an expression of the responsibility

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157

townspeople felt for the emigrants and vice versa. In return for the financial assistance the migrants gave to their relatives in San Fior they received spiritual care. Don Giovanni told me he received many letters of thanks for those prayers. The altar is still present in the church but its historic function is all but forgotten. Mention is still made of ‘our distant ones’, but they are no longer the focal point of the Friday

morning mass.

Although they were seen as escaping the poverty of la miseria, emigrants are viewed by the townspeople as having had no choice in their departure. Their migration was a sacrifice performed as an obligation to family, and the townspeople speak of a sense of debt for the sacrifices made by the emigrants. There are several well-known sayings about the hard life of the migrants. The most oft-quoted one was ‘the migrant’s bread has seven crusts’, referring to the many difficulties to be endured: distance from loved ones, language difficulties, prejudice, hard work, loneliness, poverty, and homesickness. The advent of il miracolo in the North of Italy has meant that la miseria no longer infects the Veneto. Like southern Italians, the Veneti migrated to get away from the world of la miseria; however, unlike the southern Italian migrants, the Veneti eventually returned to discover that their home town had prospered in their absence. While the lack of food was the major defining characteristic of la miseria, the home itself is the major symbol of today’s benessere. Grazia, who grew up in a household of twenty-eight people during the 1930s, made a pointed analogy: ‘The enormous benessere in San Fior is that where once in one house more than twenty people lived, today the old people remain in the old house and their children move into their own new houses’. She described her childhood home as ‘primitive’: ‘There was no kitchen, just la rotonda—a round “table” made of stone upon which a fire was made. The stable was either next door to, or directly beneath, the bedroom.

If there was no attic, the children’s bedroom

was used to breed silkworms and everyone had to sleep together in one room’. Don Giovanni also began his discussion of migration by describing the ‘great transformation’ in San Fior with reference to housing: After Easter I used to bless all the houses of San Fior in one week,

now it takes over a month . . . I felt sad after blessing the homes... . because I was obliged to accept the people’s offerings but in taking them I knew I was leaving them without. In those times, the people

didn’t always invite me inside so as to avoid showing their miseria. They tried to close as many doors as possible so as not to show the inside.

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With humour, Don Giovanni explained that today when he passes people’s houses they insist he enter: ‘They open all the doors to show the interior, they even show the bathroom’. The effect of the miracolo is evident in this powerful image of the great change in sistemazione. That migration was necessary to the survival of the town is undeniable. The sistemazione of inhabitants also meant the sistemazione of the

town. Migration was a catalyst for the benessere of today.?? To the

frustration of the migrants settled abroad, the positive economic effect of migration on the North of Italy is not always appreciated by townspeople. Gobato, however, is well aware of the benefits migration brought to the region: ‘After the war the banks were full of foreign money and could easily lend money to people interested in starting an industry. This money came from immigration. All the industries here were set up by ex-immigrants .. . These industries continue to make money and this zone does a lot of work for countries abroad’. Sara, whose father migrated to Belgium during the 1950s and returned in the early 1970s, echoed the views of every repatriated migrant when she explained that: Its thanks to the migrants that Italy is as it is today, contributing their years of work abroad. Fatiguing work given the heaviest jobs ... My father ate raw salt to replenish what was lost sweating. My father and many others left for abroad to know hard work after already knowing la miseria. From this knowledge they learnt how to use their money well. They sent home money to build houses. The dream was always to return home, all they earned was sent home to sistemarsi {set themselves up]. These migrants gave a huge contribution to the Veneto.

The great transformation has reversed the economic situation that led to emigration. The turning point was reached in 1973, when, for the first time since World War II, the number of Italians returning to Italy after a period of residence abroad in neighbouring European countries was higher than the number leaving the country for these destinations. The turnaround in emigration outside Europe occurred in 1975. For the first time since Unification (save the eight exceptional war years 1915-18, 1939-42), Italy had become a country of immigration.?+ Emigration to countries outside Italy has slowed dramatically except for the seasonal migrations of the ice-cream vendors to Germany. The economic miracle and the subsequent benessere of increased living standards has meant that townspeople believe Italy is a better place to live than anywhere in the world—l’America is now considered to be in Italy. This reversal in attitude has had a profound effect on the emigrants living abroad, as it questions the validity of their migration.

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159

Even when migration is perceived as opportunistic fortune-seeking,

there is still an accompanying sense of debt felt by townspeople, particularly if migration is judged to have been unsuccessful in cultural terms

(when,

for instance, no sistemazione has been achieved

or the

migrant is unable to fulfil family obligations). People feel indebted to their ancestors for the hard lives and migrations they endured for the future benefit of their families. 1 was often told that ‘We lived on the shoulders of the migrants’. According to the townspeople, there are ‘good’ and ‘bad’ migrations. Good migrations are economically successful in the culturally ascribed sense; that is, the migrant achieves sistemazione preferably in the home town, but, if not, close enough that they can return frequently to fulfil such family obligations as attendance at funerals and weddings. The ‘best’ migration in this sense is undoubtedly the seasonal migration of the Gelatai (ice-cream parlour owners) to Germany.

Since the 1960s,

San Fior and its neighbouring towns have come to be known as the posto dei padroni (the place of the owners). The price of goods and services increases during those months when the Gelatai are in town. ‘Ice-cream money’ is said to have bolstered the economy of the small towns. The Gelatai identity has come to rival that of the straccivendolo. The migration of the Gelatai is considered hard but satisfying work and, most importantly, it is viewed as a sure way to make a lot of money. Elena, the policewoman, described the German seasonal migration as ‘good migration’ that ‘fits the San Fior di Sopra identity well—their wheeling and dealing nature. It is regarded highly because it makes money and the workers can maintain contact with San Fior’. The school-aged children of the Gelatai generally remain in San Fior with relatives. Thus, important components of these migrants’ sistemazione—their children— are in Italy. The Gelatai are listed by the council as residents. Alberto, who worked in ice-cream parlours owned by San Fiorese for the seasons 1988 and 1989, explained that: ‘The ice-cream vendors remain Italian even while they are in Germany, they even take spaghetti from Italy despite the fact that spaghetti is available in Germany ... Life is hard there because for nine months they see four walls and nothing else. They open at 8 a.m. and close at 11 p.m. But they get rich’. The ‘worst’ migration is thought to be to South America, due to the socio-economic situation in that part of the world. Townspeople’s references to migration to Argentina and Brazil reveal their sense of obligation and debt to the migrants, not because Italy was any more

‘forcible’ in sending people to Latin America than anywhere else, but,

somewhat ironically, because emigrants in Latin America are forced to

stay there. Due to the economic situation of these countries, most

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migrants do not have the money to make return visits, let alone repatriate. The Italian government grants double citizenship to any South American who can prove Italian ancestry, allowing ‘Italian-South Americans’ to seek employment in Italy. Part of the festivities in Magnacavallo for the migrants to Brazil included a genealogical service provided by the shire council to assist Italo-Brazilians in their attainment of Italian citizenship. The Trevisani nel Mondo Association’s main office in Treviso has, as its priority, the South American case. Carmela,

an employee, described the Argentinian and Brazilian migrants as:

our brothers whom we threw out of home because we could not give them work . . . We should take responsibility for them by social security aid and return migration employment schemes. It is only fair that we, who lived on the shoulders of the migrants, return what

they gave us through their sacrificing. We must recognise them in their poverty and in their distance from Italy, friends and family.

Seasonal migration to Germany is the only out-migration that continued through the 1980s. This migration during the last decade is distinguished by townspeople from all earlier migrations in a significant way. Alberto explained that ‘migration today from this zone to Germany is simply an avenue for lots of money-making—it isn’t a necessity’.

‘America is now here’ is the refrain from a popular television program in Italy. The economic prosperity of San Fior in the last two decades has made emigration an economic strategy of the past. This transformation in lifestyle has meant that migrants living abroad are viewed by townspeople as rather unfortunate people who would have been better off had they stayed in San Fior. When migration became an avenue for the sistemazione of the nuclear family, as opposed to the maintenance of the extended paternal family, the relationship of reciprocity between migrants and townspeople changed. There is still, however, a sense of guilt on the part of the town for not being able to provide for its people, which was expressed, for example, in that letter to the emigrants from the Bank in Tarzo. Even if emigrants were no longer sending remittances to San Fior, the fact that they had to migrate to be able to achieve sistemazione contributed to the social reproduction of the town. However, during the years of benessere that characterise the recent history of both Australia and the Veneto, there has been competition between people in the two places. The townspeople in San Fior say they understand why people keep revisiting: ‘the reason is simple, it’s because Italy is the best place in the world’. The constant flow of returning visitors serves only to confirm their views. The bulk of the migrants from San Fior to Australia arrived after

World War I]. The majority of the migrants who came to Perth came

from families with inadequate land to provide them with a sistemazione.

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161

At the time, the migrants thought migration was the only way they would be able to set themselves up in their town. As it turned out, even those who did not migrate were able to achieve a successful sistemazione, due to the economic boom of the North.

The Australian Migrants’ Storia The majority of San Fiorese now settled in Perth migrated to Western Australia in the 1950s. They identify two main waves of migration

from San Fior to Perth. The first wave occurred in the 1920s, and the

second was their own wave, which began after World War II.?° In describing these two waves of migration, I have had to rely predominantly on the recollections of the post-war emigrants. I was able to consult only two children of the 1920s migrants in Western Australia (Anna and Piero Santolo), and two 1920s emigrants and their families

in Queensland (Angelo Santolo and Emma Carniel). While I interviewed over one hundred individuals during the course of my fieldwork, I have selected only a dozen or so families to focus on in detail.

The chain migration from San Fior to Perth reveals the history of the relationship between people in the two places. Gobato argued that the chain migration metaphor is not relevant to the type of migration that characterised the Veneto. He explained it, instead, by using a simile about picking a cherry out of a bowlful: ‘The one you pick up pulls with it a cluster of others’. This image of cluster migration is definitely a more accurate metaphor for the type of migration pattern that characterised the San Fiorese movement to Perth. Every migrant who left San Fior for Perth was somehow connected to the San Fiorese who were already living there. This cluster migration pattern was partly formed by both Australian and Italian policy. After 1925, Australia required migrants (aside from those who were wealthy) to have a sponsor, and from 1928, Italy required all migrants to provide proof of sponsorship through an Atto di Chiamato (sponsorship form) before departure. All

of the migration histories that are discussed in this and the following chapters have been documented in the migration charts in Appendix 1; genealogical charts of these families are given in Appendix 2. The very first person to migrate from San Fior to Perth, Umberto Santolo,

who

initiated the cluster migration,

was

part of a wider

migration process in which he and his brothers had tried their luck in both Europe and South America. Umberto left for Perth in the mid1920s. Why he chose to migrate to Western Australia and not some other place remains a mystery. A number of people in San Fior told me that, ‘in the early days’ (before the war), the emigrants did not differentiate between destinations that were ‘distant’. They were simply

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going to an ‘America’. However, the Australian migrants I spoke to said they knew exactly where they were going and for what reasons. All migrations were carefully planned.*°

The first family to migrate to Western Australia from San Fior was

the Santolo family from Castello Roganzuolo. They arrived in the 1920s. There were five brothers and four sisters in the Santolo family and all the brothers migrated to Perth. They eventually settled in the Kalamunda/Lesmurdie area, 25 kilometres north-east of Perth, as did

all other San Fiorese. The descendants of the Santolo brothers are still living in Kalamunda today.

Umberto Santolo arrived in Western Australia in about 1925 at forty-

one years of age. He worked as a gardener in Three Springs, a town situated about 315 kilometres north of Perth. One year after his arrival,

Umberto ha chiamato (‘called’) his fifteen-year-old son, Giuseppe, to Australia.2” Giuseppe worked in Kalgoorlie (800 kilometres east of Perth) during the gold rush. In the following year, 1927, Umberto

called three of his four remaining brothers—Mosé (thirty-seven), Nicolo

(twenty-four) and Francesco (twenty-eight). The remaining brother, Fernando, migrated in 1928 (thirty-four). The brothers worked for a time in Byford (a suburb south of Perth)

as woodcutters. Francesco called his wife, Gina Benato, and their son

Piero to Perth in 1935. At some stage Mosé and Fernando also called out their families. Marriage and birth records indicate that Mosé and his wife had actually migrated to Pennsylvania in the early 1920s before returning to San Fior and then emigrating to Perth. Nicolo was single

when he emigrated and he went back to San Fior in 1949, over twenty

years later, and met and married Lucia Boaro. Nicolo and Lucia came to Perth together in 1951. They have two daughters, one of whom is Anna, who told me her family’ history. Lucia called her brothers, Stefano and Silvio Boaro, in 1952. Umberto, who had called out his

brothers and his son, Giuseppe, did not call out his entire nuclear family and returned to San Fior with Giuseppe in 1939. Umberto and his brothers had second cousins who emigrated to Queensland.

These Queensland Santolo emigrants were first cousins

(children of siblings) and brothers. Umberto Santolo actually left San

Fior one year after Sebastiano,

the son of his first cousin

(Vittorio).

Sebastiano emigrated to Lismore, New South Wales, in 1924. Sebasti-

ano’s first cousin, Luciano (son of Natale), also migrated to Lismore in 1925. Luciano called out his brother, Domenico, and his first cousin,

Gaetano Zanardi (son of Benerdina Zamin, Domenico’s maternal aunt), who came out together in 1927. Domenico and Luciano then called another two brothers, Angelo in 1928 and Enrico in 1929. Sebastiano called his brother, Raffaele, in 1929 and later another brother, Nando,

and a sister, Loren, in 1951. Luciano’s mother, Clara, was a Zamin. Her

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

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163

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Italian-born population of Metropolitan Perth, Australia Source: Adapted from ‘Italian Born’, in Perth: A Social Atlas, Atlas of Population and Housing, 1981 Census, vol. 6, ABS, ACT, 1983, p. 13.

7

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siblings, Benerdina, Aldo and Gino all had children who migrated to

Australia. Gino’ children and Aldo’s grandchildren migrated to Western Australia, while Clara and Benerdina’s children migrated to Queensland. Gino married Rita Santolo, whose brothers, Umberto, Mose, Fernando,

Francesco and Nicolo had migrated to Western Australia. One of Aldo’s daughters was Grazia, my host and confidante, in San Fior. Luciano (from Queensland) and Mosé (from Western Australia) had

apparently both spent some time working in North America, independently of each other, before coming to Australia. According to Angelo, they told their brothers that Australia offered more opportunities than America, an opinion Angelo shared: Well we got some relations in America too, you know ... and it wasn’t too good. They never came back to see us [in Italy] at all because they had no money. Even now in America they're not better than here. I’ve been home, three, four times, many times. I’ve seen

some relations from America come to Italy when they were pensioners ... But then they were fifty-five, sixty years, or more. They just had the house and family the same as everybody else, but no fortune like us, some had the fortune, but not very many.

When I asked Angelo if Luciano and Sebastiano had known anyone in Australia, he said simply: ‘No, there was nobody here, they just come out like everybody else, to find their fortune—if you can’. Luciano returned to Italy in 1929, due to illness, and eventually

settled in France. He called his unmarried siblings and mother there in 1931. Luciano’s remaining three brothers in Australia, and their first

cousin,

Gaetano

Zanardi,

Queensland in the early They bought more land them. Their descendants returned to San Fior in 1936. Domenico

moved

from

Lismore

to Home

Hill in

1930s, where they leased some canefields. in 1963 and divided the property between still work this land today. Gaetano Zanardi 1933 and married, bringing out his wife in

returned to San Fior in 1936 and married Emma

Carniel before returning with her to Queensland in 1937. Angelo

returned to San Fior in 1937, met and married his wife, Stella, and

brought her to Queensland in 1939. Emma called her brother, Ruggero,

in 1951. Ruggero called his wife, Teresina Preo and son, Luigi, in 1952. Domenico’ brother, Enrico, married Emma and Ruggero’s sister, Alberta

(his sister-in-law) by proxy, in the early 1950s. I visited the Santolo family in Queensland to try and solve the mystery of why the second cousins, Umberto and Sebastiano, migrated at the same time but to different parts of Australia. When I asked Emma

Carniel about it, she laughed, and told me that someone

asked her the same question when she visited Perth in 1979:

had

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

165

She wanted to know that story, and so I said to her, it was Domenico

Santolo’s (her husband) fault, I told her, and then it’s a very long story. I can’t tell you... Umberto and Luciano knew each other but instead of stopping in Perth, where work was hard to find, they thought they would have more luck trying the East Coast.

This explanation sheds little light on the mystery, as Luciano migrated to Queensland before Umberto had arrived in Perth. It was Umberto

and his siblings who did not follow their eastern states-bound cousins. Angelo Santolo was more pointed about the relationship between his brothers and their second cousins in Western Australia: ‘Umberto and Luciano didn’t write one another at all. They're both from Castello Roganzuolo but Mose lives up near the church in Castello Alto, and we lived down on the flats in Castello Basso’. Just how much can be

read into this reference to place of residence is impossible to verify, but, given the existence of inter-frazione rivalries, the two families may well have been feuding. While the early history of emigration from San Fior to Australia remains sketchy and imprecise, the information that does exist is adequate to reveal the cluster-type migration process. The Santolo family paved the way for many more San Fiorese to come to Australia. Most of these later migrants are still alive, and their histories are much easier to document. I visited Franco Zamin and his wife Maria several times in their

Kalamunda home; ‘Ero il primo’ (1 was the first one), Franco told me.

They rarely attended the Laguna Veneto Club because, they said, it was too far to travel, although I did speak to them there a few times. I had occasion to meet them in San Fior while doing fieldwork, as their

daughter, Clare, whom I got to know well, lives there. I also met their son, Michael, and daughter-in-law, Sandra, in Italy, when they were

visiting Clare. I interviewed Sandra and Michael at their home in Kalamunda on my return. Franco Zamin (born in 1911) was the first person to migrate to Western Australia from San Fior di Sopra. Franco had returned from the Ethiopian war only to discover, according to Franco, that his classe was being called up again to fight in the Spanish Civil War. The Zamin family were keen for Franco to avoid his military duties. In addition, Franco explained, there were no opportunities for him in San Fior. His family were sharecroppers and, at the time, he saw little future for himself in Italy. His mother, Rita Santolo, had received a letter from her sister-in-law, Gina Benato, who had married Francesco Santolo

and was living in Western Australia. In the letter Gina wrote that there was plenty of work available. Franco told me that he ‘jumped at the

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chance’ to emigrate, and asked his maternal uncle to sponsor him. Franco arrived in Australia in July 1938: ‘I didn’t go to America because I didn’t have the possibility, I didn’t know anyone there. My relatives

were in Australia, they called me’.

When Franco Zamin arrived, Giuseppe Santolo went to meet him. Franco wanted to go to the goldfields with him, but Giuseppe explained that only naturalised persons could work there. At that time, to become a naturalised Australian you had to have lived in Australia for five years. Franco therefore stayed with his Aunt Gina and Uncle Francesco. His first job was with the Lesmurdie College, as a gardener. He was employed there for eighteen months before trying to get work at a privately owned timber mill in Kalamunda. The mill was owned by the Della cousins

(brothers, Jack and Lui, who

were

first cousins

to

brothers, Robbie and Eddie), from Valtellina. Any person who was not naturalised was forbidden to work for the government. According to Franco, although the Della mill was privately owned, the timber they cut was government property. Thus Franco was not allowed to work there, so he returned to the gardening job, ‘until the morning of the war’, when every available man was in demand and Franco Zamin got his job at the mill. The Della brothers had bought the mill in about 1935, having previously owned a farm somewhere in the south-west of the state. By 1939, when Franco was employed at the mill, it was no longer owned by the Della brothers. However, Jack still worked there and the two

‘became mates’. Shortly after, Jack suffered a very serious accident and cut his hands badly. While in hospital, Jack considered leaving the mill, which was still doing poorly and was again up for sale. Franco visited Jack in hospital and suggested they both buy the mill. It took some convincing on Franco’ part to talk Jack into the deal. Franco had no money and Jack had very little, but Franco was determined and drew up a twelve-month contract which stipulated that he would only claim wages if the mill made a profit. Before the contract was up, the men were ready to become partners and with the help of the local Member of Parliament and Mr Cover (an immigrant from Valtellina who provided references), in 1940 Franco allegedly became the first man to be naturalised in less than the stipulated five years. According to Franco, he and Jack had very different characters. Franco explained that while he enjoyed dancing, Jack liked to play cards and drink. Franco saved his money and was always ready to try innovative changes at the mill. Jack was sceptical of technology and did not like to spend his money on machines. One Saturday, after the normal evening festivities at Pickering Brook, Franco had intended to pick Jack up from his card playing locale but was a little late. Jack

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167

had finished early and, annoyed at Franco’ tardiness, had decided to

walk home. Franco drove up and down the road many times looking for him, a distance of several kilometres, but, each time Jack saw Franco

approach, Jack hid in the bushes wanting to teach Franco a lesson. Not surprisingly, the next morning they had an argument and it was obvious to both that they could no longer work together. They solved the problem of the mill with a deck of cards. Whoever drew the first king could nominate a price for the mill, the other then had the choice of the money or the mill. Because neither had much money it was accepted that they would await payment. Franco drew a king and,

because he wanted the mill, he offered £1700. Jack accepted the offer.

The way Franco recounted the story of the mill is testimony to the ‘ingenious nature’ of the San Fiorese. The validity of such claims as being the first man to be naturalised under five years is immaterial. The fact that Franco constructs his past as that of a fortune-seeker prepared to take considerable risks and make them pay off, fits the San Fiorese character. With no money, Franco becomes part-owner of a mill. One year later, he is his own boss. In 1948, Franco agreed to sponsor the first four townsmen. Two of these men were brothers and Franco’ first cousins, Mario and Diego Zamin. Another man, Alessandro Benato, was the son of Franco’ first cousin. The fourth emigrant was Ettore Botteon, the husband of one of Franco’ first cousin's daughters. That same year, however, Franco left

for a return visit to Italy. The story goes that the men waved to each other from their respective boats at the port of Colombo. Franco rented the mill to Jack while he was abroad (six months) and left instructions

that the two new arrivals be given jobs there. While in Italy Franco

received requests from, and actively recruited, men to come to Australia

to work in his mill: ‘They were all poor at the time and they all came to ask me about Australia. I spoke of my good fortune’. He also met his future wife, Maria.

During the six months that he was in Italy, Franco agreed to be guarantor for six paesani. These men, along with Franco’ fiancée, Maria, migrated in 1950. The men included Giacomo Bottan and Tomaso Conti (cousins), Michele and Ilario Perin (cousins), Pietro Gardin and

Arnaldo Piva. Apart from Tomaso Conti, all these men worked for some period at Franco's mill. The following year, in 1951, Franco called out his brother, Berto Zamin. In 1957, Franco's niece, Anita, emigrated.

There is some confusion about who called her. She was supposedly betrothed to Pietro Gardin’s brother, Tino, but they broke up. Anita later married a townsman who was already in Perth. Maria was born in 1926 in San Fior di Sopra. Although her parents

were alive, she lived with her maternal uncle, Freschet. The Freschet

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family have owned the central store in San Fior di Sopra since Maria’s

childhood. Maria’s uncle had no children, so she and her brother went

to work for him. The Freschet family were one of the wealthiest families in the town. Maria's uncle had treated her like a daughter; he had been very strict. Maria explained that she really had not known la miseria: ‘I lived

in a family

that ate, we

bathroom, but my uncle was He ruined my youth. I wasn’t my girlfriends . . . That’s why fed up’. Maria confided in me like before she migrated. In husband was like:

lacked

nothing,

we

had

the car, a

strict. How often I cried to go dancing. even allowed to go to the cinema with I decided to marry, to leave, I was really that she had no idea what Australia was fact, she had very little idea what her

I knew my husband only by sight. He visited in 1948 ... Franco came into the shop a few times but it was only after he left that we began writing. I began to write just for fun. I told him I wouldn't go to Australia to marry him, that he had to come to Italy, but he said he wouldn't because when he came the first time he left the mill in

someone else's hands and he returned to find it a little out of order.

So I had to decide. My mother didn’t know what to say, she just

wished me well, but always hoped I would return to live. I always intended to return.

Maria’s uncle had supported her decision to marry Franco. ‘After all’, as Maria explained, ‘Franco was supposedly the richest man in

Australia’ and was thus considered a good match for Maria, who lived

with one of the richest families in San Fior. Departing for Australia was, for Maria, both an adventure and an escape from the restrictions imposed by her uncle. Arriving in Australia was, however, a shock as her new home was in such stark contrast to what she had expected. Consequently, Maria has always wanted to return to live in Italy, even

more

so since her daughter,

Clare, married

and settled there:

‘With

sons and grandchildren here, and my daughter and grandchild in Italy, sono stata fregata [I’ve really been duped)’. I interviewed Ettore at his house in the suburb of Welshpool. Ettore

and his son Simon are statuary wholesalers. I met Simon in San Fior on one of his many visits there. Ettore was born in 1920 and grew up

in Colle Umberto, which neighbours Castello Roganzuolo. He migrated to Australia in 1948, although he had originally wanted to emigrate to South Africa where

he had been a prisoner of war, but was unable

to obtain an entry permit. Ettore was hesitant about emigrating to Perth because he had fought against the Australians. After becoming

betrothed to Adele Zamin

(Franco’ first cousin's daughter) and hear-

ing about the good fortune of her relatives in Western Australia, Ettore

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169

changed his mind and decided to ask Franco to sponsor him. Within a month he was ready to depart to work in Franco's mill. Ettore called Adele to Perth in 1951 and his brother Luis in 1952. Luis lived in

Kalamunda for fifteen years before repatriating.

Ettore’s parents were unhappy about his decision to go to Australia and they tried everything to get him to change his mind: My parents said I should use the money for the fare to buy that little plot of land, which is still there, and I said, ‘What will I do

with that little plot of land?’ ... My father wouldn’t lend me the fare because he really didn’t want me to go ... In the end I had to threaten to steal and sell his cow, you know

what that would

mean! And so he understood that I really intended to go... and I went.

Ettore did not have to emigrate, because he could have supported himself in Italy. Ettore maintains that he had a calling to travel, inspired

by his experiences in Africa. He was not interested in staying in San

Fior. His family was relatively wealthy and Ettore never sent them

remittances. Once in Australia, Ettore did not want anyone to know he

was Italian because the two countries had been enemies. He was surprised to find that ‘on the contrary, they were happy I could speak some English’. He decided to seek employment in Perth against the advice of his Italian work mates at the mill, who told him that Italians were not wanted in the city. Ettore, however, found work in Perth and

discovered that ‘The war was finished and nobody spoke about it’. Ettore’s construction

of his past contains

the same

‘ingenious’

qualities that Franco’s does. Once again, against all odds—his parents did not want him to leave; his paesani warned him not to seek employment in Perth—Ettore not only found employment in the city but built up his own very successful business. Adele, already betrothed to Ettore before his departure, was supportive of his decision to emigrate to Australia as she feared having to go to South Africa where she knew no one. Like Maria Zamin, Adele did not wish

to migrate

abroad.

However,

she did not want

to be

separated from her fiancé. Adele told me that her migration to Australia in 1951 had ‘not been too bad’ because she had several relatives already living here. She proceeded to describe her family’s cluster migration as proof of the support and companionship she could rely on. Adele's brothers, Mario and Diego, had emigrated in 1948. Diego called his wife, Renata Tonos, and Mario called his wife, Eliana Tonos, Renata’s

sister, in 1950. Mario and Eliana later migrated to Queensland. Two

other Zamin brothers, Marco and Davide, also migrated. Marco arrived in 1950 and Davide in 1956. Marco called his wife, Sofia Mazzer, in

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1951. In 1957, the last remaining brother, Carlo, migrated to Australia

with his mother, Isabella; they were apparently called by Davide. I spoke to Giacomo on many occasions both at his home in the suburb of Cottesloe and at the Laguna Veneto Club. I also met him in San Fior when he was visiting. It was through Giacomo that I made contact with the Santolo family in Queensland. Giacomo was born in 1913. His parents died while he was very young and he grew up in his grandparents’ extended household. The Bottan family were considered a family that ‘managed’, they sold livestock and owned a butcher’ shop. World War I, however, ruined them and Giacomo became a rag and bone collector along with most of his townspeople. Giacomo and his relatives had some dealings in the black market trade, the money from which eventually set them back up in business. Giacomo married Lidia, also from San Fior, in 1936, when he was twenty-three.

When Giacomo migrated to Australia it was to escape a legal embroilment. He and his brothers had been in a car accident involving a doctor and his son. The Bottans’ vehicle was not insured and the brothers were advised by a lawyer to leave the country because the doctor was going to ‘see them ruined’. Giacomo left for Australia in 1950,

‘with nothing

but debts’.

Another

brother,

Frederico,

left for

Venezuela in 1949 for the same reason. Before migrating to Australia, Giacomo wrote to Frederico, who had already moved to Argentina, asking to be called over. Frederico had, himself, been called by a cousin.

Giacomo received a curt reply from ‘This is not a land for you with four his brother Frederico was single therefore it was acceptable for him

his brother which apparently read: children’. Giacomo explained that when he left for Argentina and to migrate to a distant location: ‘a

man with four children, however, it’s not good to leave the family to go

so far away’. Giacomo also wrote to a townsman from his classe in North America, asking to be called over but he again received a negative response. He knew no one in Canada to ask. When Franco Zamin arrived in San Fior in 1948, ‘looking for a wife’, Giacomo saw him as an opportunity to escape. Franco’ brother, Arturo, had done military service with Giacomo. He recalled that Arturo laughed when he heard that Giacomo wanted to migrate to Australia. The Bottan family were considered people who did not need to migrate and Arturo had thought Giacomo must be joking. After Giacomo had explained about the accident, Arturo agreed to ask Franco to sponsor him. Giacomo admitted that, ‘Some people told me I was mad to go and leave four children, others told me I did well to try. The town was divided, they didn’t know themselves’.

Giacomo sailed to Perth on board the Sorrento in 1950 with the five other paesani Franco had sponsored. Giacomo’ first years in Australia

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

171

were fraught with difficulties due to his many debts. He worked at Franco’ mill for eight months but feared an accident, so common in mill jobs. He eventually got a job in the building industry to be later joined by Ilario Perin. There he could work overtime and was paid well. Giacomo desperately wanted to be reunited with his wife and four children but he knew it would take years to raise the money needed for their fares. Luigi Federici, a man from Valtellina who worked

in Franco’ timber mill and who helped many San years in Australia, returned to Italy in 1951 on a there he visited San Fior and met the families of Perth. On his return he helped Giacomo raise the

Fiorese in their early visit. While he was the men he knew in money to bring out

his family. In 1952, Lidia, Giacomo’s wife, and their children, Alessia,

Don, Nadia and Viviana, migrated. A fifth child, Cathy, was born in Perth in 1955: Federici,

when

he

returned

he

said,

‘But Giacomo

what

are you

doing?’ He said, ‘Your family should be here helping you’. ‘And the money?’

I said, ‘with all my debts’. So, he and others helped me.

This one, that one, everyone. And in San Fior they said, ‘Bottan made enough money in a year and a half to bring out his whole family’ [laughs]. They knew it cost $1200 for all five.

Many people in Perth helped Giacomo prepare for the arrival of his family. When they arrived the makeshift house still had no floors and no doors. From having nothing Giacomo and his family slowly made their fortune. Giacomo owned a series of fruit and vegetable shops. The last one he owned is now managed by his son-in-law, Renso Benato,

who

married

Giacomo’s

daughter, Alessia.

Giacomo

Bottan’s

wife died in 1988. Giacomo explained that although she was happy

here, she never forgot any of the feste (feast days) in San Fior and

suffered ‘deep nostalgia’. Renso was born in 1929 in San Fior di Sopra, ‘on the same street as the church’. Renso showed me a large oil painting of the church hanging in the hallway of his Italian-style home in Cottesloe, a suburb of Perth, as if to verify the fact that he originated from the very centre of di Sopra. Renso emigrated to Australia in 1950, called by his older

brother Alessandro Benato (Franco Zamin’s father, Gino, and Renso

and Alessandro’s maternal grandfather were brothers). Federici actually

signed the papers because Alessandro Benato was not allowed to sponsor anyone, having only been in Australia a year. Franco Zamin had called Alessandro Benato, his second cousin, in 1948. Renso called their other brother, Ennio, in 1952. Alessandro went back to Italy in 1952 and returned to Australia with his wife, Severina, in 1954. Ennio

called his wife, Nella, to Australia in 1956. This couple repatriated to

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Italy in 1960 with their son Riccardo. Ennio and a

sister, Caterina, are

the only members of the Benato family who still live in San Fior. Renso came to Australia on the same boat as Maria Zamin, Franco's fiancée: ‘She was in first class and I was in economy’. Renso and Maria arrived several months after the six paesani Franco had sponsored that

same year:

I came out to Australia for the future. I said to myself, ‘Look, I'll go for five or six years, if I find fortune, make a few bob, and come

back and do something’. My brother [Alessandro] was already here with Franco Zamin. They had publicity in the town, you know, he’s a rich man, he made a lot of money.

In a little town its like if a

person is successful at soccer or bike racing, everybody goes bike racing, they follow each other.

Renso had already had a series of jobs before he emigrated. At fifteen years of age he began rag collecting. At eighteen, he worked for his sisters husband on a market stall. He had worked in a bakery and at a number of other jobs but none of them paid much money. Renso took great pride in recounting the ingenuity he had displayed in all these jobs, most of which had ended in arguments over lack of pay. He secretly ate bread in the bakery toilets, sold cat-skin instead of rabbit-skin as Angora wool and was heavily involved in the black market: ‘After the war I used to buy petrol from the Americans, the English, all contraband because it was hard to get. We used to buy tyres from their jeeps to sell too’. But most of all he remembers being hungry: ‘During the war, my mother used to bring me milk and | used to put water in it so that it would last longer. This was la miseria of the war, even with money you couldn't buy what you wanted, and before the war was miseria because there was no work’. I could not help but connect Renso’s self-ascribed ‘ingenuity’ to the infamous sayings about the San Fiorese character. | asked Renso about the sayings:

The sayings are all propaganda, because we are business people. If you sell me some Angora wool I might rob you fifty grams, it’s just part of the business. That's not thieves, that’s business. Because you [are] asking me so much money, I haven't got a chance to make much profit, so I try to do you up with the weight. Then, when I sell, I put all the Angora wool and spray with a bit of water and so when I sell it, it's heavier. You got to do that, it’s part of the business. So they give the name, ‘thief’, because they jealous. We are not peasants working on the land, we are commercianti [dealers], and we

are the best there.

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

173

Renso explained that he could have made a living in San Fior but that a small town has many disadvantages: I don’t know whether I'd be in business there or not. Another thing,

what's wrong with the small town, if you have a name of your family, you're poor or maybe your father is a drunk, even if he’s honest, they think the kids to be the same, that’s wrong ... And another thing, a person with one dollar they might say they've got two and a half dollars, boasting themselves up and if you're rich they all respect you. If you're poor, they don’t want to talk to you. It's more class, they still have that. Renso married Giacomo Bottan’s eldest daughter, Alessia, in 1956, and

they both manage the very successful fruit and vegetable shop they took over from Giacomo, who is now retired. They have two sons and

a daughter, Linda. Alessia arrived in Australia as a young teenager: ‘When we came, for us it was like an opening because there [in San Fior] you didn’t have much and here starting work and buy a house and eventually set yourself up, was everything for the future’. Alessia had had no say in her migration to Australia. However, she believed her parents acted in her best interest: ‘Dad thought of us kids mainly. That's why we came, but if he had have stayed another two or three years, eventually the

jobs were opening up’. I interviewed Paolo Camerin and his wife, Rita Mazzer, several times

at their two-storey Italian villa home in Bentley, in Perth, and spoke to them frequently at Laguna. Paolo is a builder and works with his son, Ugo, who is an architect. I interviewed Ugo separately. Paolo was born in 1931 in San Fior di Sotto. He was betrothed to Rita Mazzer before emigrating to Australia in 1952. Marco Zamin, who married Rita’ sister, Sofia, sponsored Paolo to come to Western Australia, and Paolo called

Rita in 1955. Paolo explained simply that he migrated ‘for work, to make money’. At the time of his departure, France was really the only alternative destination, but Paolo did not want to work in the mines. He explained that Canada and Switzerland became ‘places that called’ after he had already migrated. Paolo, unlike Ettore, says he had no choice but to migrate for work. His family were once sharecroppers and they had remained on the land when the system of lease was phased out. They were living off what they could produce: The war brought great miseria and straight after the war there was no work so they began to emigrate in 1946, they began to escape, scappare, to France, not to emigrate but to escape to France, illegally,

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and to Belgium and Germany. Then in 1947-48 they opened the emigration to Argentina and in 1948 to Australia, and then Canada.

Paolo explained that the priest kept them up to date with migration possibilities: ‘Who read the papers in those days except the priest?’ Paolo sent back the money he had borrowed for his passage to Australia as soon as he could. He and his wife sent money to their parents until their first child was born: ‘It is the town where you were born,

you can never forget it’.

Rita was born in 1933 and grew up in San Fior di Sotto. She migrated to Western Australia to marry Paolo in 1955. For the three

years before coming to Australia, Rita worked in servizio (as a maid) for

a signora in Rome. Rita was happy to come to Australia because she did not enjoy her work and recalls that her parents were both ‘happy and sad’ at her departure: ‘How can parents be happy when they see their child depart? But, as there was no other possibility of advancement, they hoped that [through migration] they might see their children sistemati’. Rita has ten brothers and sisters. During the war, four of her brothers were called up and the family lived on the income from two daughters who worked in a local silk factory. Unlike Ettore’s parents, Rita’s parents were not totally against her migration because, for Rita’s family, it presented the only avenue for Rita to achieve sistemazione. Rita has a brother settled in Canada. He migrated there in 1957 after having spent some time in Argentina: ‘He got out [of Argentina] just in time.

Another brother is stuck there still’. Rita made many references to the other paesane (townswomen) who were living in Western Australia, and the assistance and support she received from them: 1 always kept in touch with them, they were a great help, especially in the early years. With small children, where could you go, with little English? In four years I had three sons! You tell me! Paolo would leave when it was still dark and returned in the dark. He saw his children just for an hour or so, except for Sundays when he might have the afternoon off.

Rita explained that ‘everyone was more or less the same’, working and saving, ‘setting themselves up’, except for Franco and Maria Zamin: ‘When

Maria arrived, she already had

the house,

they had workers,

Franco was already set up’. I interviewed Guido and his family in San Fior and in Perth. It was through meeting Guido in Italy that I was introduced to his mother, Grazia, with whom

I lived in San Fior. Guido and his wife, Corina, are

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

175

very successful tailors. Their sons, Danny and Mark, own and manage an exclusive menswear boutique in the centre of Perth. Guido Zamin was born in 1931 in San Fior di Sopra. Guido’s brother-in-law, Arnaldo Piva (sponsored by Franco Zamin in 1950),

called him to Australia in 1952. Guido called his fiancée, Corina, in 1956. Corina called her widowed mother and sister, Felicita, in 1959.

Guido Zamin and Renso Benato are first cousins: their mothers, Grazia and Carla, are sisters.

Guido emigrated because, ‘at the time, there was no future in San Fior’. His family had been sharecroppers like the Camerin’s and there was tension between him and his brother over how to manage the farm. Coming to Australia also enabled him to avoid doing military service. Guido had many cousins who were already in Western Australia. Like many others, Guido had been impressed by Franco's apparent wealth: ‘We saw Franco come back [to San Fior] and he paid

for the trip for eight or ten people, the fare, to come to Australia, to work on the saw-mill’. Guido decided to emigrate to Australia rather than Canada or Argentina because of the number of relatives he had there and the good reports he had heard: ‘They were writing home that they were getting quite a bit of money’. Guido’s father wanted him to return to San Fior within four or five years because his own experience of migration to Canada had been negative, and indeed this had been Guido’s intention. Corina was born in 1932 in San Fior di Sopra and she was already betrothed to Guido when he emigrated. Her mother did not want her to leave Italy without being married, but Corina refused to marry by proxy: ‘No way! My mother was a widow at that time and she even took me to the priest. The priest said, “How old is your daughter?” I was twenty-one then. So the priest said, “Well signora, I can’t help you, she’s old enough”. I didn’t want to get married by proxy’. Like the other emigrants, Corina had little idea of what to expect in Australia: I didn’t have a very clear impression of Australia, only what Guido was telling me about. I knew he was making the house . . . I knew it was very hard because he was writing at the beginning that it was

very, very hard. Then I came . . . I was one of the lucky ones because I had the house already. But I had a lady next door who was English, the other side, they were English also, and 1 was completely lost in Kalamunda.

In front was bush, behind was bush, not like today, and

it was very hard. I was used to working in a factory where there were lots of people, and coming here you can’t speak English and being in the middle of nowhere, as Kalamunda was at that time, it was a real

shock. But I was happy being here, because I married Guido and had

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a house. It was a bit hard, the first year was hell, I couldn't speak . . . It took me a year... The first few boats that went back there were tears, tears, tears, and then little bit less, little bit less.

Corina called her widowed mother and single sister to Perth in 1959, and reported that they were very impressed with her house: ‘It was much more than they were used to in Italy. We had running water and a toilet inside. The bedrooms had carpet on the floors. Mum was living in the old house in Italy, the kind with the stable underneath’.

I interviewed Rico Tonos and his wife, Tina, together with Guido and Corina Zamin on their return from a visit to Italy in 1991. While

he does not form part of the cluster migration described here, Rico’s migration experience is interesting because it is different from the others

1 interviewed. I met Rico’s Australian-born son, John, in San Fior during

my time there. John was working as a technician and sales representative for one of his father’s brothers, who owns a large factory. Rico was born in San Fior di Sopra in 1931. He emigrated to Australia on a government-assisted passage in 1951. Besides Rico, I know of only one other emigrant, Claudio Gardin, from San Fior, who

came over on a government-assisted passage. According to Rico, the idea to emigrate to Australia came from his parish priest. Rico’s first cousin, Renata Tonos, had already migrated to Perth, in 1951. Her sister, Eliana, arrived in 1952. These women

were called to Australia

by their husbands, Mario and Diego Zamin. The fact that Rico migrated on a government-assisted passage precludes him from location in the cluster migration process. In fact, Rico does not mention his female cousins and describes his knowledge of Australia as having come entirely through the priest:

I was playing the organ and when the priest during the ceremony, they give the speech and talk about things, and he came out and say, there was a request for bricklayers, carpenters, mechanics,

farmers,

whatever. It was Canada, Argentina, South Africa and Australia. And then

he stay there and

he said blah,

blah, blah, and

he came

to

Australia. ‘Twenty-five pounds a week’, he said, ‘you earn there in Australia, you can use five pounds a week to live’. As soon as he said that, I was behind the altar playing the organ, and I thought to myself, ‘What am I doing here?’ Even ifI spend ten pounds a week, | still got fifteen saved. Fifteen pound in those days, that was good money earning. I thought to myself, ‘I'll go over for a couple of years, and then come back and do something, set up here’.

Rico paid 32 000 lire for his passage over and when he arrived the government gave him 30000 lire in pounds Sterling. He was sent to

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177

the Northam holding camp for a fortnight, which he detested: ‘I cried every day’.2? From there he was sent to Narrogin to work on the

railway:°°

Me to stay there on the railway line with pick and shovel, I thought to myself, ‘Oh Rico, where are you?’ And I was supposed to stay two years doing that, at twenty-four years of age! Three and a half months passed, then I stopped the train coming up from Albany. They used to do that at one o’clock in the morning with matches in the middle of the railway line. I got to Perth and I saw Guido and he said, ‘Australia is a hard country, a hardworking country’. He was right.

Rico confided that it was his own ‘fault’ that he came to Western Australia: ‘My fault and the priest's’, because all his family were against his going. At the time Rico had a paying job in Conegliano. He described his boss's reaction to the news of his impending departure: I said, ‘Boss, I’m going to Australia, mi scampe via [I’m running away]’. He said, ‘Tonos, where are you going?’ He put his hands in his hair. ‘Are you crazy?’, he said. ‘You have a job here, and you want to go abroad, but are you crazy?’ He said, ‘Look, America is here in Italy, don’t go abroad’. But I had already decided, I had the papers, and I ran away.

Rico regrets coming to Australia. He explained that it was all propaganda: ‘That was the policy between the governments. That was to get people, the young people away from Italy, to get them out. That's what happened and the priest was told to preach in church to say that it was like this; all propaganda’. Rico has actually done very well for himself in Australia, as Corina Zamin continued to point out to him as he spoke of his migration mistake. He is a successful builder and owns a large house in the inner-city suburb of Mount Lawley. His marriage to Tina, a descendant

of Valtellina parents,

is proof of his successful

sistemazione.

Tina

interrupted several times during Ricos dialogue to remind me that they had just returned from a trip to Italy. This context is important because Rico’s recent visit to Italy brought him face to face with what he might have had if he had not migrated. Rico has an acute sense of relative deprivation; in his own eyes, his success in Perth is found wanting in comparison to that of his brother who remained in San Fior. Rico expressed his unhappiness with his migration by insisting that he was not sistemato. Corina pointed out that he had a family here and that he had made his fortune. But despite these facts, Rico refused to accept that he ever did ‘settle down here’.

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Mapping Sistemazione in Perth All the San Fiorese who migrated to Western Australia were influenced in their decision to migrate by relatives, friends or fellow townspeople. Rico Tonos came alone, but he had been influenced by the priest and by the stories of Franco Zamin’s fortune. Umberto Santolo’s arrival, therefore, paved the way for more than two hundred San Fiorese to migrate to Western Australia. The men and women who migrated in the 1950s orchestrated the arrival of individuals, the bulk of whom

arrived before 1955. There are four generations of San Fiorese in Australia today. The migration pattern was essentially one in which men migrated first, followed by their wives and children, or their fiancées, followed

sometimes by their parents or their spouse’s parents and any single or widowed siblings. Almost all the emigrants intended to return to Italy. Recounting their impressions upon arrival at Fremantle, men and women alike told how, at first, they had wanted to ‘go straight back home’. Many people explained that they were extremely disappointed with what they saw and described a sense of having been ‘duped’. People laugh about how their intentions back then were to stay two or three years and return to Italy, acknowledging the naivety of believing the migration process to Australia to be the same as the seasonal migration strategies that had been employed by their paesani for decades. The manner and number of arrivals was not only influenced by the cultural patterns of the sending areas but was also largely determined by Australian immigration policies. In the period before World War II, Italians were not considered desirable migrants by Australian immigration standards and were therefore not actively encouraged.*! Most of the first migrants to Western Australia came from the northern Italian region of Lombardy (in particular the Valtellinesi) and later the Veneto, reflecting the hierarchy of Australia’s preference for ‘northern Europeans’ over ‘southern’.** The majority of these migrants, including a few fishermen from Sicilian provinces, were men who, initially at

least, identified as temporary sojourners, as it was their intention to

eventually establish themselves in Italy with the proceeds of their

migrant labour.*?

With no intention of settling, there was little economic sense in bringing out wives, fiancées or family. Consequently, there was a significant over-representation of male Italian migrants in the pre-war period.

Pesman

reports

that, ‘At the end

of the nineteenth

century,

women accounted for just over 11 per cent of the Italian-born population in Australia; by the mid 1930s, they still only made up one quarter and in 1947, on the eve of mass migration, one third’.** The

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

179

gender imbalance changed dramatically, however, in the post-war period. Almost as many women as men arrived in Australia between 1954 and 1971. Figures from the 1971 census show that by then women accounted for 45 per cent of the Italian-born population. There are two main reasons for the almost equal female/male postwar migration.*° First, the Australian government began to encourage Italian migration because immigration targets could not be met by British and northern European migrants. In particular, the immigration of Italian women was promoted in a bid to redress the gender imbalance and create family units.>” Marie de Lepervanche argues that Australia’s immigration policy is ‘infected’ by family ideology.*® There was considerable rhetoric in the 1950s and 1960s about the desirability of family migration. Assimilationist ideology of the period held that families should be encouraged, because it was thought that immigrants would assimilate most successfully through families, and particularly through the women.*° Second, those who came from the southern regions and who made up the bulk of post-war Italian migrants intended

to settle permanently

in Australia.

Thus,

it was

inevitable

that women would migrate. In the case of the San Fiorese, migrants began to anticipate the need for a longer sojourn in Australia than had been the case with seasonal migration to European countries. The average age of the male migrant on arrival in Australia was twentyeight, and information collected from life histories showed that most men left spouses or girlfriends in Italy when they departed for Australia. The men’s mature age, combined with the length of time they needed

to spend in Australia, meant that most were keen to be reunited with

their partners. Hence, women migrated in order to assist the men with the work of sistemazione—starting a family and saving money for an eventual repatriation. Implicit in Australia’s migration and social policies was the expectation, oblivious to the migrant

perspectives,

that families (and, by

implication, married women) were more likely to remain than were single migrants. At the beginning of white settlement, British women migrants were wanted as wives and mothers to assert a stabilising influence on Australia’s colonial society.*? Now it was women from non-English-speaking backgrounds who were seen as fundamental to their family’s process of assimilation.*! In Italian culture too, the woman (read wife and mother) has traditionally been seen as the foundation

of, not only the family, but also the nation.*? Not surprisingly, then,

most

Italian women

migrated as dependent

wives,

fiancées, proxy

brides and daughters, despite the fact that many entered the paid work-

force. Husbands, fathers and fiancés were most often their sponsors.

Very few Italian women migrants were single and unattached.*3

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Womens structural position of dependence and their location in the family domain are arguably the key factors influencing their migration experiences and their citizenship experiences.** Indeed, their citizenship status reinforced their role as dependent wives and mothers, especially until 1947, as during this period, women and children automatically assumed their husband's or father’s citizenship upon marriage or at birth. Thus, if a married male migrant decided to apply for Australian citizenship, both he and his wife (and children) auto-

matically lost their Italian citizenship, since dual citizenship was not allowed. These regulations meant that women who remained in Italy while their husbands or fathers were working in Australia became naturalised Australians without ever having been to Australia. Informants trace the history of migration to Perth according to who called whom, or who ‘enabled’ whom ‘to come down’ (fatto venire git). Most of the 1950s migrants began their description of the cluster migration with Franco Zamin. Only after I questioned them about earlier migrants did they offer hazy references to the Santolo family. There were a variety of ways to migrate to Australia. Men either

received an ‘invitation’ to migrate from a relative or townsperson already

in Perth, as in Franco Zamin’s case, or they requested sponsorship

from a relative or townsperson whom they knew to be in Australia, as Ettore Botteon had done. The government migration scheme was seldom used. In line with Australian immigration requirements and Italian cultural mores, women were invariably called out by their fathers, brothers or suitors. The adult women discussed above each freely chose to come to Australia, despite the fact that most hoped eventually to return to Italy to live. Franco Zamin is claimed to have called more San Fiorese to Australia than anyone else. 1 was told by several people that ‘he called down half of San Fior’. A more accurate description of Franco’s calling would be that men interested in working in his timber mill asked Franco if he would sponsor their migration. The calling, then, was really on the part of the migrant; it was not that they were called by someone, but rather that they had a calling to migrate. Thus, their caller was the person who responded to their call. Where possible, the would-be emigrants approached a potential caller that they were related to, either through marriage or by blood. Giacomo Bottan recounted that, due to his drastic situation resulting from the car accident, his search for sponsorship had been a frantic one. Giacomo’ requests to a brother in Argentina and a townsman in North America fell on deaf ears. It was only through the contact of a classmate, Arturo, Franco Zamin’s brother, that Giacomo was able to

obtain sponsorship to Australia. Franco Zamin is, in fact, the only man

who called men who were non-kin. That Franco was in a position to

Misfortune: the monument

at Cue, Western Australia

a ANFIORZS, BENVENUTI

Some of the San Fiorese members of the Laguna Bocce Club pose for a group photograph in Perth, 1986.

The church in San Fior di Sopra

Many of the roads in San Fior di Sopra are flanked with scrap-metal piles, and the streets of the towns are frequently crowded with pick-up trucks.

Traditional extended households lived in farmhouses known as case coloniche.

Grazia prepares her grandchild’s grave for All Souls’ Day.

The Pan e Vin and Befana

The male classe members have the honour of carrying the statue of the Madonna of the Rosary. The female classe members walk behind them.

Some of the Valtellinese women members prepare their traditional fare for the 1991 ‘Valtellina night’ at the Laguna Social Club.

A bronze statue of St Mark’s Lion, symbol of Venezia, graces the front of the recently renovated Laguna club house.

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration

181

provide sponsorship, and therefore take on the responsibility of men

who were not his relatives, added to his fame as a successful migrant.

In many cases, the person who is said to have called someone to Australia was not, in fact, the legal sponsor. To sponsor a migrant you had to have Australian citizenship and be able financially to support the new

arrival. A man

from Valtellina, Della, who worked in Franco

Zamin’s mill during the 1950s and who already had citizenship, legally sponsored many of the San Fiorese who were called by the first group of men to arrive at Franco’ mill in 1950. The caller, rarely the legal sponsor, was usually the relative or intended spouse of the new emigrant. The emigrant males I interviewed reported their migration history in a distinctive way. Their personal biographies began with a description of the economic and social situation in Italy, which was invariably connected to their decision to emigrate. Usually, this motive was expressed as a simple statement: ‘There was no work, no money, no choice’. Many wished to escape military service. The year of departure and the boat on which they sailed to Australia are important because these facts identify them with those who were migrating at the same time. A man will usually nominate the cluster of people who were with him on the trip over as well as the people who called him out, or ‘signed

the papers’, granting entry rights. These

guarantors

clearly

identify the individual with a group of people already living in Perth. The male migrants’ stories proceed with an account of where they lived and the types of employment they had had. Most San Fiorese arrived as full-fare migrants under guarantors who ensured they had accommodation and financial support if required. Invariably, arrival in Australia meant hard work, and some form of employment had usually been arranged prior to arrival. Almost all the men who arrived in the second wave of migration (1950-60) began work at Franco Zamin’s mill. The single men from San Fior never ceased to look for a better paid job; the leitmotif of their stories is the continual pursuit of a better paid job. Their main aim was to make money. It did not matter what job the men had, or how well it paid, they were always on the lookout for something better. Work, work, and more work is the underlying theme of the men’s stories, and often the lists of jobs are very long. The identity of the San Fiorese is closely tied to an ethic of ingenuity. In the face of enormous adversity, a successful sistemazione was achieved at both the individual and collective (town) levels. It is interesting to

note that in all the stories of migration a similar attitude to work is evident. The description of jobs sought often included references to the ‘superman’ qualities required to maintain them. No job was too rough, too dangerous or too heavy, providing it was well paid. Jobs that paid more and offered overtime were preferred. Being well regarded by employers was important, and in most repatriation stories the

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individual was promised a return fare by his Australian employer if he decided to come back. Achieving a successful sistemazione is a crucial cultural value because it is the key to the continuance of the developmental cycle of the family and therefore of the town. The importance of the cultural value of sistemazione is highlighted by people's response when it is threatened as, for example, during times of war. Silence is used to mark times when sistemazione and campanilismo are suspended. These are times when people’ capacity to shape their own lives is threatened and diminished. The only silences I encountered while doing fieldwork surrounded the times of war and those times when single men were working alone in Australia, with no family and few paesani with them (for example, pioneering in the bush or gold-mining). These times of working alone represent the liminal stage in the young men’s rite of passage to

attaining sistemazione. They are betwixt two home domains, living among a community of consociates, and, as in times of war, their

futures (and future sistemazioni) are uncertain. For a culture with a

rich grammar of mementoes, the period of single life in Australia is

almost totally devoid of them. Most striking is the absence of photos. Evidence of the single working man’s hard lot are rarely on display. I was shown very few photographs of men working in Australia before they set up a family. The ones I was shown I had to ask to see because they were not on the mantelpieces or in the piles of photos I was invited to look through.*> These times are silenced because sistemazione has not yet been achieved and is therefore uncertain—just as, during wartime, people's sistemazioni were in danger of being lost and never recovered. A very important aspect of the men’s accounts is who helped them

out and gave them support as well as with whom they shared their free time. The boundaries of a ‘community’ are thus delineated. The men’s community consisted of paesani and fellow workers. This liminal stage varied in length depending on the economic and social situation in both countries and whether the emigrant was married or betrothed. Franco Zamin and the 1920s emigrants had, on average, a considerably

longer period of time as single hardworking ‘pioneers’ than the 1950s emigrants. It took the 1920s migrants longer to ‘set themselves up’. The pre-war migrants departed a very different Italy to the one left by the post-war migrants.

In addition, the 1920s migrants arrived in a

very different Australia from the one that greeted the post-war migrants. Once adequate living quarters and regular employment had been attained, individual migrants begin to tell of the people they in turn helped out and called over. Reference to marriage and starting a family are detailed with a sense of pride and accomplishment. At this point in

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183

the story, the teller invariably offered proof of his successful sistemazione by showing me photographs. The ones on display were poster-sized, gold-framed images of their children’s weddings—their trophies of achievement.

Women tell their stories somewhat differently to the way the men do.*® All San Fiorese women migrated either as part of a family (daughter, sister, mother) or as wives or fiancées. Anita, Franco Zamin’s

niece, is the only woman I interviewed who migrated as a single, unattached woman without her parents. However, she had apparently been betrothed to a man who was already in Perth. Women's migration stories therefore begin with a description of their relationship to the person who called them, as this relationship usually contains the motive for their migration: ‘I was betrothed’, or ‘I came with my mother’. An account of hardship and survival often proceeds, including references to the problem of language, where and how one lived, and the pain of homesickness. Comments are invariably made about the hostility of Australian neighbours and the isolation of motherhood. The women always took time to explain their connections to relatives and townspeople living in Perth. Any women friends who helped them ‘settle down’ are nominated. The names of certain women recur in almost everyone's stories. Gina Benato, who migrated in 1934, is often

referred to as having offered support to almost all the new

1950s

arrivals (Gina’s husband, Francesco Zamin, was responsible for calling Franco Zamin, his nephew; Franco boarded with Gina and Francesco upon arrival). Franco Zamin’s wife, Maria, is also often nominated in

women’s stories for her ability to raise people's spirits. While the men talk about their employment history, women tend to detail their activities of family and community building. The women tended to play down the differences between themselves, particularly with reference to class. Maria and Franco Zamin were obviously the wealthiest San Fiorese in Perth and Maria, never having known la miseria, had a very different background to the other women, many of whom had suffered hunger during their childhoods. Despite these differences, the women worked hard at organising communal free-time pursuits, celebrations and weekend activities. This accords with di Leonardo’s observation that women are responsible for ‘kin-work’ and are thereby fundamental

to the maintenance of family ties.*”

All emigrants from San Fior were seeking a sistemazione through their migration. People emigrated either to work or to marry. Marriage and financial security are the most important aspects of a successful

sistemazione because,

in general

terms, an individual's sistemazione

symbolises his or her contribution to the process of social reproduction. While the content of a successful sistemazione has changed over time, family and economic stability comprise the unchanging form of the

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symbol of sistemazione. Initially, migrants planned to set themselves up in Italy. Most sent remittances home for this purpose. Those men who already had a house and family in Italy usually repatriated, but the others began to set themselves up in Perth and usually remained. Emigrants generally repatriate from Australia only if they are sure they can set themselves up in Italy as well as, or better than, they can in Australia. The fact that their children are established in Perth makes the decision to repatriate extremely difficult.‘ Informants expressed a deep sense of obligation to both their children and their parents. History reveals, however,

that it is acceptable

for children to leave

their parents but not the converse. An understanding of what a successful sistemazione means to the San Fiorese in Australia today can be gained from their migration stories. Being your own boss, owning an Italian-style home and having children are important characteristics. Although every migrant began working sotto (under) bosses, they have all ended up in business for themselves. Homes are symbols of both achievement and ethnicity. The bigger the home and the more ‘Italian’ it is, the more successful one is. Paolo and Rita’s home

is an exact replica of villas in San Fior,

complete with imported window shutters and marble stairs. The number of children one has is not as important as how successful, and how Italian, they are thought to be. Ettore Botteon makes an important observation when he compares the relative success of San Fiorese in America and Australia by referring to the number of return visits he and his American relatives have been able to afford. Proof of a successful sistemazione is measured in the number of return visits. The fundamental change in the content of sistemazione has been from ensuring the future of the extended family to the maintenance of the nuclear family. Where once proof of a successful migration was settlement in San Fior, today proof of a successful migration is frequent and regular return visits.

To the San Fiorese in Italy, good migration is characterised by the

migrant’ sistemazione in San Fior. The migrant’s sistemazione in Australia

is therefore ambiguous; informants have had to redefine a successful sistemazione to include living in Australia. The San Fiorese in Italy do not necessarily regard their townspeople’s sistemazione abroad as successful, and, more importantly, family duties cannot easily be maintained due to the physical distances. The migrant’ obligation to return is transformed into an obligation to visit and maintain contact with the home town. This sense of obligation to visit is evident in the way the post-war migrants construct the history of the two waves of migration to Australia.

6 Campanilismo in the Host Country

Due

to the cluster migration process, the San Fiorese in Perth form a

close, interrelated network. Everyone who migrated to Perth from San Fior knew each other and initially settled in close proximity. Di Leonardo observes the way in which campanilismo can be used by people as an ideological formation to assert solidarity and control: Intense regional and linguistic solidarity and mistrust of outsiders, or campanilismo,

has been

claimed

as an

Italian-American

trait. The

reality is far more complex ... Campanilismo ... is a product of settlement patterns and ethnic mix. It is variable, like other components

of culture, not fixed, like the alleles determining eye colour.

When there are a large number of Italians of a particular origin living near one another, and when they have significant common economic interests, campanilismo may be used, like any other ideological formation, to assert solidarity and control . . . Once again, a component of ‘Italian Culture’ varies greatly according to material circumstances.!

Australian San Fiorese assertions of solidarity are a combination of identifications with Italy and Australia. On the one hand they identify, along with their townspeople in Italy, with their natal town, and on the other, they identify with other Italian migrants in Australia in a uniquely Italian-Australian way. In San Fior, campanilismo manifests as community identity and the relationships between people in terms of locality. Although it has a unifying effect, the symbols and signifiers of campanilismo can mean

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different things to different people, and these differences can be understood in terms of the diverse layers within the town. The San Fiorese Australians construct campanilismo in different ways, too. In Italy, campanilismo is defined as a form of spatial self-identity—people who live in the same place define themselves in relation to people who live in other places. In the immigrant communities, campanilismo is a reference to ethnic origins and defines one group of people in relation to another group according to their self-ascribed ethnicity. At the same time, the notion of campanilismo is shared by San Fiorese all over the world and they all identify with the idea of the place that is San Fior. The 1950s emigrants from San Fior differentiate themselves from their pre-war emigrant paesani: ‘Migrants vary by place of origin, but they differ just as markedly according to time of departure. An emigrant of the 1920s, even from the same paese, even from the same family,

cannot be assumed to be the same as an emigrant of the 1950s or

1890s or 1970s’.?

The earlier migrants left a very poor Italy and are referred to by the post-World War II migrants as scappati (escapees).> It was believed that they had no intention of returning to their home town—even for a visit—because, for them, the natal village represented hunger and poverty, as Paolo Camerin explains: The people who came out in the very beginning were poor, really, really poor, poor, poor. They worked like animals here, and they set themselves up here [sistemazione], and they never thought any more about Italy, because in Italy there was nothing. That's why they never went back to Italy, not even to visit.

The perception harboured by the 1950s emigrants that most of these early migrants never returned to visit Italy, casts them somewhat

as

‘prodigals’-—not as reckless wasters of money, but as people who abandoned their homes and families. While the 1920s emigrants were in many ways escapees fleeing la

miseria of their home

town, Australia, at that time, was hardly the

promised land. Ettore Botteon describes the migration of his kinsman,

Lodovico, who migrated to the Santolo family. Lodovico he only stayed for about impressions of those days in

Perth in the late 1920s independently of apparently found life in Perth so difficult forty days. Ettore describes Lodovico'’s Australia as akin to Jesuss torment in the

desert, and explains how Lodovico urged him: “Don’t go, don’t go,

there are thirty houses there [in Kalamunda]” ... All discouraging words, but I said it didn’t matter, I was going anyway’. Life in Australia for the migrants who arrived in the 1920s had been

much harder than it was for the 1950s emigrants. The type of housing

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187

each group of migrants had provides a clear gauge of living standards. Most of the women who arrived after World War II had houses to come to, including Giacomo Bottan’s family, despite their relative poverty. The 1920s emigrants, in contrast, lived in tents. In addition to the poor living conditions, the 1920s emigrants experienced greater prejudice from their hosts in Australia than did the 1950s migrants,

given the strict policy of assimilation and the negative light in which

Italians were perceived at that time. It is clear from the 1950s migrants’ construction of their history that they identify as a separate group from the 1920s migrants. The 1950s San Fiorese emigrants describe the 1920s emigrants as having been in competition with them. Even though individuals like Gina Benato and her husband Francesco Zamin are remembered by 1950s migrants as having been very helpful and supportive, the 1950s migrants allege that the 1920s migrants were antagonistic towards them.* Guido Zamin asserted, ‘they used to hate the new arrivals’. Rico Tonos said he found the ‘old Italians’, worse than the Australians: ‘I was told once by somebody, “You come here just to get our bread and butter, we work hard” . . . we were this, we were that’.

In contrast to the depiction of the 1920s migrants as escapees, the 1950s migrants see themselves as fortune-seekers and opportunists. The word for fortune in Italian also means luck. Giacomo Bottan explained to me that from his migration experience he learnt that: ‘It’s not enough to have fortuna (luck), you must go in search of your

fortuna (fortune)’. Coming out to Australia after the war was seen as an

opportunity. Grazia told me: ‘My son received an invitation [in 1952] to go to Australia. So I said, if you have the opportunity, go ahead, because Australia is a bel paese, a good place, rich, it offered everything that we were searching for: work and opportunity’. The townspeople’s view of Australia as a bel paese was directly influenced by Franco Zamin’s acclaimed success. The migrants that Franco Zamin initially sponsored, and the people they subsequently called, were not about to forget their homeland.

The majority of them planned to repatriate eventually and saw their time in Australia as a short period of hard work, to make money. Most of these migrants refer to their migration as a necessity. They did not have to migrate (escape) to survive, as the former migrants did, rather they ‘had to’ migrate to achieve a successful sistemazione. The differences between the two waves of migrants were partly caused by the different social, political and economic circumstances in which their migrations occurred. These circumstances directly influenced patterns of migration, settlement, work and marriage. They also

influenced the migrants’ construction of campanilismo and ethnic

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identity, as Orsi makes clear when talking about the North American experience:

The first generation, in its uneasy and often unconscious process of transition, wanted to introduce its children to Italian culture—not to Dante and the Renaissance, as Italian culture was defined by the

middle-class journalists in Italian Harlem, but to traditional patterns of respect, familial obligations, and social behavior. First generation parents wanted their children to know their dialect. But the first generation seems to have given very mixed signals on the subject of Italy and the old paese. The working class immigrants in Italian Harlem before the 1920s did not get swept away by the rhetoric of italianita. They remembered and told their children stories of the poverty and exploitation of the mezzogiorno. The first generation passed on very conflicted attitudes toward Italy to their offspring.®

The escapee/abandoner image of the 1920s migrant is contested by

the Queensland migrants’ life histories. The Queenslanders, unlike the

emigrants to Western Australia, cannot be differentiated into two waves because they all belong to the one family and they were all in Australia before the outbreak of World War II. Emma Carniel emphasised the necessity of migration: ‘They had to leave their families and enter the big wide world . . . My husband, as young as thirteen, went to the coal mines [in France]. He still had to borrow the money to come to Australia’. Angelo Santolo explained the desperate situation his brothers left behind in San Fior: ‘We had six campi

[plots] of land and the

house. It wasn’t enough and when my poor father died we were all young and he left a lot of debt behind because there had been a lot of sickness in the family. We lost seven in one family. . . It was all in the family in those days, big families living together’. The fact that Angelo’ brother, Giacomo, returned to Italy and then

went to France and called all his family there, is testimony to the dire situation that existed in San Fior. For many, migration was the only way they could possibly earn a living. Angelo returned to San Fior

after being in France, but, in order to avoid military service, he and his brother, Enrico, ‘escaped’ to Australia. All the brothers returned to

Italy during the late 1930s, but every one of them re-migrated to Queensland, this time with wives, and so began to complete the requirements of a successful sistemazione. The pre-war years in Australia were difficult ones for the Queensland Santolo family. Emma explained that at first, when they were in Lismore: ‘I think they worked on the rail-roads to begin with and nobody knew they were Italians, because if they knew they were Italians ... no work for them! Domenico always told me that if they found out

Campanilismo in the Host Country

189

. trouble! He could speak French very well, and they passed as French’. The experience of prejudice is strong in Emma’s narrative: Even if you wanted to buy land, they gave preference to returned soldiers.

That went

on till late

1950s,

middle

1960s.

British first,

until they brought in the machines. And during the war if you went into town you couldn't speak in Italian. No! If you speak in Italian and they pass you by, they say, ‘Hey, speak in English’. It was hard. They was a little bit hard against us, I don’t know what we had. We were human beings also, good workers.

The living conditions of the 1920s Queensland migrants stand in stark contrast to the experiences of the post-war migrants in Western Australia. Emma described the living conditions of her husband when he first arrived: I remember Domenico. Once he was working for the people on a dairy farm and he was living in like a shed. He was living like in a pig-sty. They put him in there to sleep, and he thought to eat [had to feed himself] .. . It was very hard. They just look for the best jobs for money. Here was good money in cane-cutting in a short time because there was the seasons. You hope for the best.

Emma’s description of her husband's plight fits the scenario of the prodigal son, who, far away from home, is maltreated. Although the 1950s migrants in Western Australia also experienced hardship and prejudice, unlike the 1920s migrants, they had no direct experience of war and internment in Australia.

There is a discrepancy between the way descendants of the 1920s migrants and the 1950s migrants construct the 1920s migrants’ migration history. According to Piero Santolo, the only son of Francesco,

who migrated to Perth with his mother in 1935, the Santolo brothers

came to Western Australia to try to save their property in Italy: ‘My father migrated because they had a large property in Castello

Roganzuolo. There were five brothers working there and three came

out here, and the money they made they sent back to try to save the property. But it didn’t work out. They couldn't raise enough money’. This is not an image of escapees fleeing Italy never to return but of responsible family members doing their best to contribute to the maintenance of their family. Far from running away, the brothers were

trying to save their land.® Piero explained that there were forty-two people living in his father’s house at the time of his departure, ‘five different families, that’s a lot of life at stake’. Once the land was thought to have been lost, however, the brothers had no choice but to remain

in Australia:

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They stopped attempting to save the land after about three years, and then Dad was saving to get us over here, it was seven years before we came . . . They only migrated because they felt they were quite sure they could save the property and then return. They migrated for that reason. They could have decided to go back but there was nothing to go back to, here was much better . . . The only one that went back was the one that had the biggest family, Umberto.

Ironically, the property remained in the family because of the tenancy laws which were passed when sharecropping was phased out.’ Piero returned to Italy no less than forty years after migrating and was able to stay in the house in which he was born, now ‘owned’ by a cousin,

one of Umberto’s sons. Once the Santolo brothers focused their attention on ‘setting themselves up’ in Australia, they called their wives and families over as soon as they could afford to. Most arrived in the early 1930s. Although life in Australia for the migrants of the 1920s and 1930s had been full of hardships, in many ways it was still preferable to la miseria in San Fior. The 1950s ‘fortune-seekers’ accuse the 1920s ‘escapees’ of rejecting Italy and offer as proof the early migrant’s failure to visit home. In Ettore’s family the accusation was fuelled by the ‘bad press’ Lodovico had brought back of Australia. Ettore recalls: My my and not

Mother in law told me not to go to Australia: ‘I’m not happy that children go to Australia, because there are many in Australia, they've been there some twenty years, and they've never written, even a letter’. 1 thought to myself, it’s impossible because I

couldn't

believe.

I mean,

I knew

it was

uncivilised

but

not

that

uncivilised, and then I discovered that some didn’t write. And the people criticised Australia, because there are people who have been in Australia many, many years and those in Italy don’t even know where they are . . . Because in the beginning it happened either that they didn’t want to write and they just threw themselves into a different life and they abandoned their relatives ... They are the old ones that came out first . . . early.

Ettore’s description of the townspeople’s dislike of Australia prior to Franco Zamin’s famed successes also reveals the migrant’s obligation to maintain contact with his or her family back home. Ettore accuses the early migrants of having failed in their obligations to their relatives and it is in this important respect that the two waves are differentiated. All the

Santolo

brothers,

brothers

actually repatriated.

however,

all made

in fact, made

These

after World War

return visits.

visits and

Two

of the

repatriations were,

II. The amount

of time that had

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191

elapsed before the 1920s migrants made their return visits was on average about forty years compared to the 1950s migrants who made return visits within the first decade of migrating. The longer period of time without visiting home meant that the 1920s migrants could not fulfil a number of family obligations—they missed their parents’ funerals and the weddings of their nieces and nephews. Financial factors would certainly have been central to their inability to make visits earlier; however, such reasons are rarely offered by the 1950s group when they talk about the early migrants’ failure to maintain contact with San Fior. The children of the 1920s migrants do not talk about their parents as ‘escapees’ who ‘abandoned’ their natal town. Instead, they speak of their parents’ migration as a sensible and accepted reaction to a difficult situation. The 1950s migrants, however, construct them as ‘prodigals’. They group all individuals who do not visit as people who have ‘forgotten’ their patria (homeland). In other words, a distinction is drawn between those who return to visit and those who do not. The latter are seen in a negative light. That very few people actually fall into this category seems to be irrelevant. It is as though a fictitious category has been constructed as a warning and example of unacceptable behaviour. Franco Zamin arrived in Australia just before the war, and the manner in which he describes his past clearly reveals the perceived differences between the two groups of migrants. By the time he arrived, the 1920s group had decided to stay in Australia, they had called out their wives and families and, as some would have it, had begun to

forget their patria. Franco Zamin talks about himself as an ‘escapee’, taking on the 1950s migrants’ perceived attitudes of the early migrants. He admits that for a time he forgot about Italy and concentrated on making a new life for himself in Perth. During one interview, at which his wife was present, Franco waited for her to leave the room (she went to prepare some refreshments), before confiding in me a part of his past of which he was not proud: I had forgotten my mother, I want to be honest, I had actually forgotten my mother. That's why she wrote to me via the Red Cross during the war. I should have written .. . Of Italy? Who thought of them over there? I had forgotten my mother and everything. There are individuals who have never returned to visit San Fior, but

they are rare. It is significant to consider the case of Piero Santolo, a son of the 1920s group, who says he had ‘a bit of a chip on his shoulder’ about Italy and that he rejected his roots. Piero maintains that he was influenced by the negative attitudes many of the early migrants had

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about Italy. It also appears that he was responding to social policy and attitudes to Italy in Australia at the time: Thad a little bit of a chip on my shoulder, which was unfortunate. I had done a lot of interpreting here for the Italian immigrants, which I enjoyed. I was only too happy to help them. But they had given me the impression that in Italy they were all a bit carried away with their own importance. So I went out with the wrong attitude and I didn’t really enjoy it, but 1 changed my ways the next time I went.

The reflections and experiences of Ettore Botteon, Piero Santolo and Franco Zamin point to a period of rejection of Italy during the 1940s.

These three men were connected with the 1920s group. Ettore had a cousin who had migrated to Australia in the 1920s and Ettore, himself, arrived in Western Australia in 1948, prior to Franco's famous return visit to San Fior. Franco, being the first man called over who was not a

nuclear family member of the Santolo family, represents the beginning of the ‘cherry-cluster’ migration and thus the construction of the reference group. Piero, the son of one of the initial brothers who migrated, was obviously socialised into their way of perceiving Italy and migration. Both Franco and Piero admit to having rejected their home town. Their negative view of Italy, they say, was changed by the arrival of the 1950s migrants. Franco is particularly conscious of the effect these ‘new arrivals’ had on his perception of Italy: When I began to call down the men from San Fior, then my feelings for Italy were recaptured [ripreso] ... When I began to get these men

from

San Fior to come

out, that was

the moment

when

recaptured again the desire to see, then I felt the need ... in a few months I left and went to Italy.

I

Piero believes that he too was influenced by the ‘new immigrants’ and, like Franco, it took a visit to San Fior to change his feelings for his home country. In 1984, some fifty years after migrating as a nineyear-old child, Piero visited San Fior. This resulted in a profound transformation in the way he viewed Italy, Italians and being Italian. After this visit he began to ‘go back’ regularly, to the extent that his aim, when I spoke to him in 1992, was to be able to live in Italy for six

months of each year:

By the time I arrived in San Fior I was sorry I hadn't made arrangements to stay longer. For the first time I felt proud of my origin, I really had a stupid negative approach. It wasn’t anything to do with

my father, I think it was more from the [1920s] immigrants who would refer to the snobbery of the Italians in Italy.

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193

Piero and Franco experienced a change in their perception of Italy and Italians through the community of reference that was built up by the 1950s migrants and their visits to Italy. These men underwent a transformation from ‘escapee’ to ‘fortune-seeker’. They are true ‘prodigal sons’ because they found their way ‘home’. Franco describes his first return

visit as a transformation;

it made

him

remember

Italy, and

recapture his ties to his homeland. Franco's return visit in 1948 began the cluster-migration from San Fior to Perth. The next wave of migration was very different from the earlier one. It was not about one family’s plight to save land, and the subsequent escape from conditions in Italy. Rather it was the emigration of ‘half the town’—an exodus to a promised land—after all, the destination had been recommended to them by a successful migrant, Franco Zamin. Ettore Botteon maintains he was the first of the 1950s migrants to make a return visit to San Fior. He recalls the attitude of the 1920s emigrants to his departure in 1962: When someone left for Italy, everyone went to the port of Fremantle to wish them well. When we left, an Italo-Australian couple

[Italian

migrants from the 1920s group] who had been here for many years before me, asked me, ‘But Ettore, why are you spending all this money going to Italy?’ I said to them, ‘And what are you going to do with all your money when tomorrow you have to die and leave it all behind?’ To them it seemed like a waste of money going to Italy with the family. They didn’t have any desire to go to Italy for a visit. When J arrived in Australia, one thing that really made an impression on me was those Italians that were here seemed as though they would have been happy if Italy had sunk after the war. They didn’t even speak Italian any more, they didn’t want to speak Italian any more, they were ashamed to speak Italian, because during the war the anti-Fascist politics began to scorn Italy, saying Italy was this and that. So it happened that they began, amongst themselves, to be quiet; ‘Don’t tell the Australians that you are Italian, don’t tell anyone’. They were interned, the ones who were here, and they were scared,

and so they had renounced Italy somewhat.

Ettore refers to the couple who had migrated in the 1920s as ItaloAustralians. Most migrants who arrived in the 1950s refer to themselves as Italians. This is not a factor of time spent in Australia but rather largely reflects government and social (migration) policy. The earlier migrants were known as ‘new Australians’. The White Australia Policy and the racist treatment non-British migrants received under the

policies of assimilation worked to distance the migrants from their natal

countries. Added to this, the poverty and la miseria left behind in San

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Fior were not things that the migrants necessarily wanted to remember. The experience of the war, however, was perhaps the most influential factor in the difference of opinion the two groups had of Italy. By the time the second wave of migrants arrived in the 1950s both the situation in Italy and Australia’s social policy had changed dramatically. The White Australia Policy had been watered down to policies of integration, while racism was tempered by initiatives such as the formation of the Good Neighbour Council,® and Italy was no longer a place from which one had to ‘escape’. Travel was becoming safer and easier, too. These factors influenced the recapturing of interest in the home

town. In addition, the experience of the war, during which

Italians

were constructed as the ‘enemy’, jeopardised the 1920s migrants’ sense of italianita.

It was only in the early 1990s, half a decade later, that the Italian

internment experience was addressed by the Australian government in a reconciliatory manner. In November 1990, the late Senator Panizza presented a petition in Federal Parliament to amend the archival registers regarding internment and the war: 1am old enough to remember the case in my own home town where rounded-up men were paraded around the streets ... Then they were locked up in one of the local disused halls with nothing but a heap of hay thrown in the middle to sleep on. Even our worst criminals are spared this humiliation. This was inflicted on innocent, hard working men who had no knowledge of, or care for, the war

half-way around the world.?

He explained that these injustices had occurred on the basis of ‘malicious rumours and accusations’. These allegations, all untried and for the most part untrue, had resulted in the internment of Italians (many for the duration), including some who were naturalised Australians: ‘Unfortunately, those allegations are on the public record’. Senator Panizza’s efforts, largely through the tenacity of Mrs Sonia Turkington, who originally wrote to the Senator raising these issues, resulted in a reconciliation dinner hosted by the Western Australian government in August 1991. The motion to amend the public record, however, is still outstanding, although Panizza raised it again in parliament a week after the dinner: Those accusations remain on the files and I think it is totally unfair that when those files become available to future generations—to grandchildren or great-grandchildren—they will think that their ancestors were criminals and were locked up for nearly five years when their only crime was to be of Italian origin in Australia at that

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time. I call on the Government to look at the idea of making notations to those files because the conclusions on them are not necessarily

correct.!°

The advent of il miracolo in San Fior has meant significant changes in the way people make sense of migration. Until the economic miracolo, migration was an acceptable response to economic problems. Today, when San Fior offers more economic opportunities than Perth, the justification for migration has been thrown into relief. As one study noted, ‘those who left in the 1950s, especially from regions like the Veneto where prosperity has increased exponentially, made, on average, the wrong economic choice. A generation later, those who stayed at home are certainly richer and perhaps happier than those who left’.!! For Franco Zamin, the man who is held responsible for the migration of ‘half the town’, the changing fortunes of history have dealt a cruel hand. The proud Franco, along with most of his paesani in Australia, are not, however,

about

to admit

failure.

Instead,

they set about

in

earnest to prove that their migration was successful: ‘They [the people in San Fior] don’t think we made a mistake by coming to Australia because they see that we have been back already three or four times for holidays and spend money, so they say, “with their sacrifice, they have made something”. There is rivalry between people in the two places, a rivalry in which emigrants compete symbolically through conspicuous consumption. The rivalry is based on individual perceptions of relative

deprivation.!*

The San Fiorese Community in Perth The with like they

San Fiorese envy about Italy, there is go and play

comes

in Queensland, Emma Santolo for example, spoke their townspeople in Perth: ‘I like Perth ... Perth is community: everyone together. They are all together, bocce . . . Here is nothing compared to Perth when it

to feste together’.

Emma’

sister-in-law, Teresina Preo

(who

married Ruggero Carniel) has relatives in Perth with whom she keeps in touch. She has attended weddings and funerals in Perth and recalled that when her cousin's mother-in-law died, ‘There was a big, big, big

funeral in Perth. What a funeral! ... all of San Fior was there, and Castello’. The Queensland San Fiorese refer to Perth as the centre of

the San Fiorese community in Australia. Many of them have made visits to Perth to stay with relatives and townspeople. Ruggero and

Teresina, for example, stayed in Perth for a brief visit on their way to

Italy in 1965. When honeymoon in Perth.

Teresina’s son married in 1982, he had his

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The cluster migration process resulted in a cluster settlement pattern with San Fiorese initially building houses in close proximity to each other in Kalamunda. This was, for a time, the centre of the San

Fiorese ‘community’ and the local parish was well attended. Don Giovanni told me that in 1960 he received a letter from Father Domenic, the parish priest in Kalamunda, requesting some Italian prayer books. Father Domenic explained that there were many San

Fiorese in his parish and that they often spoke with affection of Don

Giovanni. A community, once established, is not static, however. As

with migration, the construction of community is a process. The San Fiorese community in Perth has gone through various stages of development in conjunction with the life-cycle stages of the families which comprise it. The amount and type of contact between paesani is directly related to the stage they have reached in their family life cycle. During the late 1950s and early 1960s the post-war migrants from San Fior were raising young families. Informants describe a strong sense of community and campanilistic solidarity during their early years in Australia. Rita Mazzer recalled: ‘when the children were little, we

would visit each other every weekend. In summer we would have picnics together or go to the beach’. Alessia Benato remembers visiting other San Fiorese at least once a week. She explained: ‘It was okay to go visiting without being invited when the children were little, but not any more’. Don, her brother, remembers receiving visits ‘every weekend

and almost every evening’. Guido Zamin spoke about this time as well in the past: ‘Years ago, you have to go back, we played cards, tonight my place, next Saturday or Friday another place. It changed over time. At the start, there were thirty families. Barbecue this Saturday in my place, next Saturday in yours’. Corina, his wife, attributed this activity to the fact that they all had small children: ‘It stopped when the children grew up and people started making big money’. The sense of community developed because everyone was more or less in the same stage of sistemazione—raising young families and trying to save money to buy a house. Once the children grew up and people bought homes in different suburbs, visiting declined, and the families saw each other less frequently. Ettore Botteon’s son, Simon, explains: When they came out they all basically had kids at the same time . . . so when they went out to a party, the oldies were in the same area and the kids were in the same area. When we got to the stage where we were eighteen, nineteen, going to school, some getting married, then it really broke. There was a period of maybe ten years where those parties just stopped. That's when Laguna got involved and now they're back to where they were twenty years ago.

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Like his brother Simon, Michael describes Laguna as having taken the place of weekend visits once the children reached adulthood: When we were younger we used to do all the weekend things together. The families used to go out on picnics. It was quite a big group at times, but as the kids grew older and started doing their own thing the parents also started to do their own things as well. Over recent years, since they joined the Laguna Club, they’ve managed to band together again. Ugo Camerin, Paolo and Rita’s eldest son, describes the changes in

the San Fior community as ‘very gradual, just a natural process for the kids to grow up’. His parents began what he called the ‘club scene’ (attending Laguna) when he was in his early teens. Ugo recalled attending Laguna with his two younger brothers as a young child: ‘When they first started going we really didn’t have much choice because we were still quite young, but when we had the choice we did other things’. Danny and Mark Zamin, Guido and Corina’s sons (Grazia’s grandsons), do not remember the meetings of the San Fiorese

as clearly as Michael and Simon do, although their parents remembered participating in the visits and parties. Michael and Simon were born in the early 1950s, while Danny was born in 1958 and Mark in 1964, just as Laguna began to grow. Danny explained that he did not have much to do with what he called ‘the Kalamunda crowd’: ‘I think you’re asking the wrong people about that because we seemed to have broken away from all the Zamins in Kalamunda. Our mum and dad keep in touch a little bit with them but they’re quite far away’. The San Fiorese migrants’ network of friends expanded from an inner circle of family and paesani to the friends of friends made through living in close proximity, regular visiting and attending the same parish. The employment Franco Zamin offered in his timber mill provided a starting point for most of the 1950s emigrants to Western Australia.

Even if they only worked there for a short period of time, as Giacomo Bottan did, they made important contacts and established enduring ties with fellow workers. The 1920s emigrants had no such reference group. The vast majority of adult migrants in both waves married spouses who were born in San Fior. Prior to World War II, the 1920s emigrants who returned to Italy did so to find a spouse. The only exceptions to this were Luciano Santolo, who left Queensland for Italy due to illness, and Lodovico Botteon, who repatriated.

Marriage is an important part of sistemazione and most of the men

migrated prior to, or just after, marrying. The 1920s emigrants married later and took, on average, much longer to call out their wives and to

establish themselves than the 1950s emigrants. Unless they had very

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small families of two children or less, the 1920s migrants were forced

to return to settle in Italy, being unable to finance the emigration of a large family. Similarly, the newly wed had no choice but to settle in

Australia for an extended period of time, being unable to afford the

trip home. The 1950s emigrants, on the other hand, were generally at liberty to choose where they wanted to ‘set themselves up’. Making the

decision often entailed a trip back to San Fior.!3 On the first visit home

most men married and then returned to Australia with their wives. If they did not return after the first four years in Australia they invariably called down their fiancées or married an Italian migrant woman

(usually from another northern region such as the Valtellina) in Perth. !*

The children of both waves of migrants have married into other Italian regional and ethnic groups. Consequently, the symbolic construction of campanilismo is different for the different generations. The San Fiorese are closely interconnected through kinship, marriage, attachment to homeland, the migration process, cluster settlement, common work experiences, a shared history and, more recently, the Laguna Veneto Social Club. These ties form the foundation of the San Fiorese community in Perth. Informants described the relations between themselves and other San Fiorese as ‘like a family’. The regular and informal visiting between families was described as ‘family-type behaviour’. Those people who were not related through blood or marriage often became fictive or ritual kin through the institution of

godparentage.!°

Comparatico (godparentage) ties between people remained invisible

to me until late in my fieldwork. I often visited Giacomo Bottan, who

patiently helped me with the genealogies and cluster migration charts. Giacomo is one of the oldest San Fiorese living in Perth. He has a great deal of knowledge about San Fior and a great desire to share it. Giacomo is a retired widower who told me he had ‘plenty of time to talk’, and, despite my never-ending barrage of questions, which strained his memory, he assured me that he enjoyed my visits. On one such visit, Giacomo was trying to recall someone’s name. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘anyway he’s a compare’. When I asked him what this meant, he answered, ‘All the San Fiorese are compare’.

Compare and the female equivalent, comare, are wedding witnesses,

baptism sponsors, or confirmation sponsors. For example, a groom

and his best man become compare; a mother and her child’s godmother

become comare (this is also the case with confirmation sponsors). Being

a compare/comare entails entering into a special relationship with the family concerned, replete with rights and responsibilities. From my brief survey it is clear that comare and compare have a duty to participate in each other's family life.

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199

I investigated Giacomo’ claim by asking everyone I had interviewed about their compare. 1 discovered a complex pattern of compare sponsorship that effectively connected all the San Fiorese in Australia to each other. Franco and Maria Zamin had, by far, the most compare from San Fior. Franco asked one of the men he sponsored, Tomaso Conti, to be his wedding witness. Elizabetta Cover, whose family migrated to Western Australia from Valtellina in the early 1920s, was the other witness. The Valtellinese were included in a quasi-kin relationship with the San Fiorese from a very early stage in the migration history. The Cover family owned a market garden in Kalamunda and many San Fiorese worked for them in a part-time capacity during the 1950s to earn extra cash. Franco spent much time at the Cover family home and often had meals there when he was single. When his fiancée, Maria, arrived in Australia, she stayed with the Cover family for ten days until her wedding day. Knowing no other women in Western Australia, she asked Elizabetta Cover to be her witness. Maria explained that, as it is an honour to be a witness: ‘asking Elizabetta was a way of

saying thank you for everything her family had done for me and Franco’. The expression of gratitude through the honour of comparatico was, in turn, bestowed on Franco and Maria Zamin many times by couples they had sponsored to Australia. It is common practice for the marriage witnesses to be the godparents and confirmation sponsors of the first child. The godfathers of Franco and

Maria’s first child, Julian, were Tomaso

Conti

and Mr

Cover,

Elizabetta’s father. Usually the honour is reciprocated. For example, Franco's cousin, Diego Zamin, and his wife, Renata (née Tonos), are godparents to Franco and Maria’s second born, Clare. Maria explained that she and Renata ‘did a swap’, and Maria and Franco are godparents

to Renata and Diego’s son.

Being a compare, although an honour, entails a number of responsibilities associated with being ‘like family’. Giacomo’s daughter-in-law, Silvia, explained to me that, although she had many friends, she had asked family to be her children’s godparents because ‘it [sponsorship] is an imposition on other people . . . You have to ask people who you will stay in touch with’. In my small sample it appears that, in Australia as in Italy, whenever possible fellow townspeople are sought out

to be compare in preference to non-San Fiorese friends. The pre-war

migrants chose paesani and Valtellinese as their compare. The post-war migrants mainly chose kin and townspeople to be their compare. That godparentage reinforces family-like community ties is also evident in the fact that marrying out breaks down these ties. For example, Simon Botteon married Dorothy, an Anglican Australian. The ‘strained relations’ between Simon and his father is the explanation

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Simon offered as to why his children’s godparents and confirmation sponsors are all from Dorothy's family. Their marriage witnesses were school friends. Consequently, they have no comparatico ties with any

San Fiorese migrants.

Rico and Tina Tonos asked two non-San Fiorese to be their marriage witnesses, although both are Italian. Rico’s best man was a friend from Conegliano and Tina’s witness was a family friend from Valtellina. The fact that Rico did not ask anyone from San Fior is in keeping with his self-ascribed anti-community attitude. Maintaining tradition, his best man became godfather to Rico and Tina’s first born, Peter. By the time their second

child,

Lidia, was

born,

Rico

had

re-established

his

friendship with paesano Guido Zamin, who was in Rico’s classe. Guido and Corina are godparents to Lidia. Rita’s cousins are godparents to the third born, Nick. The children are not yet confirmed.!®

The mutual obligations required of compare ensure that the San

Fiorese remain a ‘family-like’ community, meeting each other regularly at baptisms, confirmations, weddings and funerals. Their individual struggles to achieve the culturally defined success of sistemazione, as well as their sense of nostalgia, ensure that they all continue to identify as San Fiorese. However, their permanent settlement in Australia, the growth of their Australian-born children and the establishment of their social club, Laguna, developed in the Perth San Fiorese a uniquely Italian-Australian identity. ‘Being Italian’ is still very important to the

Perth San Fiorese, but, what it means to be Italian to the migrants is not the same as what it means to their paesani in Italy.

Campanilismo and Laguna Giacomo Bottan describes the place of the San Fiorese in Laguna: “We make

up 20 per cent of the club, the largest single group. We

are

proud of having formed Laguna. We are proud to meet outside San Fior and everyone gets on well. It is like a family meeting’. The focus of the San Fiorese community has changed from ‘family-like’ visits to ‘family-like’ meetings at Laguna. The Laguna Veneto Social and Bocce Club was founded in 1961. From its humble beginnings as a shack in Wembley Downs, Laguna is today a large, modern clubhouse situated in Inglewood, some 25 kilometres from Kalamunda. According to Don Bottan, this distance has meant that the San Fiorese, ‘have grown a little apart’: Laguna keeps us in touch to a certain extent but those that live in Kalamunda come very infrequently; only a few families attend occasionally. There is an Italian club up there, the Lesmurdie

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201

Agricultural Club. Piero and Franco go there. They’re getting old up there in Kalamunda, and it’s a long way to come to Laguna for them.

While not all San Fiorese are members of Laguna, they all know about the club and have had occasion to attend it. Of the ItaloAustralian families | have been focusing on, four are not Laguna members. The descendants of the 1920s migrants, Anna and Piero, do not patronise the club. Anna Santolo spoke of ‘the other San Fiorese’ in a way that excluded her family: ‘Well, our family has never been involved in any of that. 1 understand that there is a very close community. They play bocce at Laguna. My parents have never been into that’. Anna’s statement is a reflection of the division between the two waves of migrants. Despite not being part of Laguna, Anna described the Laguna club as ‘a little bit of Italy here ... It's a great chance for them to get together and just be Italians’. Like Anna, Piero Santolo explained his lack of participation in Laguna in personal terms: ‘I think it was because of my own attitude before’ referring to that period in his life when he was ‘anti-Italian’. When they were younger, Piero and his Valtellinese-Australian wife, Doris, played what they called ‘Australian sports’ competitively. Today, Piero occasionally plays bocce at the Lesmurdie club, ‘with other Italians of mixed origin’. Although Doris does not participate in Laguna, she was very vocal about the benefits she saw the club providing, especially to women: ‘There's no other way they would be able to get into sport unless they have those clubs. It’s the first time I’ve seen the Italian women with their own independence to play a game without having to refer to their husbands’. It is evident that Doris does not identify with the San Fiorese migrants who attend Laguna: she had earlier established her own independence through Australian sporting

associations. Ettore and Adele Botteon and their son, Simon, are not members of

Laguna but they are all very active in the provincial association,

Trevisani nel Mondo

(ATM). Two couples, Franco and Maria Zamin,

and Rico and Tina Tonos, although members of Laguna, rarely visit the club. Franco and Maria once attended Laguna frequently but, as Don Bottan explained, because of their advanced age and the distance from their home in Kalamunda to Laguna, they do not go to the club as often as they used to. Although Rico does not consider himself part of the San Fior community in Perth, ‘I been out all the time’, he has been

a member of Laguna since 1982. He attends very infrequently and only for special feste. The other families 1 have been discussing, excluding the second generation, are extremely active members of Laguna. They all refer to

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Laguna as their ‘second home’ or ‘second family’ and take great pride

in the fact that they built the club into the success it is today.'”

Laguna is described by its founders as a Veneto club. The Veneto does not represent a homogeneous group. As well as the regional, provincial and town variations, there are also generational and gender

differences. Members of Laguna do not identify with the club in the

same way. The choice of the name Laguna, which means ‘lagoon’, is

indicative of how the club symbolises different things to different people. The Veneto region’s most famous city is Venice. Surrounding the floating city is the Laguna viva and the Laguna morta (the live and dead lagoons). The water around Venice is referred to as the Laguna di Venezia (lagoon of Venice). The Laguna Club was initially established

on low, marshy land. One of the founders explained, ‘Down there it

was a swamp, it look like the Laguna di Venezia so they give it the name, Laguna’. The name Laguna is something of a joke among the older members. Although lagoon-like, the swamp in Wembley Downs did not look anything like Venice! Most informants had not been to Venice before they migrated, and had only visited its famous shores during one of their return visits. The fact that the Australian-born members associate the name Laguna with Venice reflects the level of their identification with Italy, which is more closely tied to popular/ marketable Italy than it is to their parents’ home towns. An example of this is the name chosen by Guido Zamin for his tailoring business, ‘Venice Tailors’, even though he is from San Fior. This was in order to appeal to a larger clientele. Laguna symbolises different things to different people and is thus able to contain a diverse membership. The former president of the Laguna club impressed upon me that ‘Laguna is not an Italian club, it is a Veneto club’. He gave me a copy of the club’s constitution and pointed out the phrase which read: ‘It is desirable to maintain 70 per cent of club membership who originate from the Three Venezie or descendants thereof’. Another constitutional rule is that the president must always fit this category. I was told by the secretary: ‘We like to keep the majority Veneti because if you get more than half—the others more than the Veneti—the other later on maybe change the name, you never know, but if you are the majority you safe’. In 1991, the breakdown of members revealed that less than 70 per cent of members were from the Triveneto. When I mentioned this to the president he explained that they have now counted the Valtellinese

as Veneti. This caused a quiet chuckle from a female descendant from Valtellina who later told her townswoman,

tongue-in-cheek, that they

had been ‘promoted’ to Veneto status. The Valtellinese are accepted into the Triveneto group because of their long history of involvement

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203

in Veneto migration to Western Australia. Besides the Veneto, Lombardia (the region which contains Valtellina) is the other main northern

Italian region from which many people migrated to Australia. The bulk of the migrants who came from Valtellina migrated between the late

1800s and the early 1900s.!® The majority of the Veneti migrated

during the 1950s. The already settled Valtellinese were instrumental in the migration of the San Fiorese migrants (especially as migration sponsors) and were helpful in their process of sistemazione. A number of Veneto men married daughters of the Valtellina migrants here in Perth. There are at least twenty such married couples in Laguna. The Valtellinese have also been incorporated into Veneto families through godparentage ties. Laguna brings together people from different regions, although they are mainly northerners, and is one of the ways campanilismo has been redefined in Australia. Campanilismo in Australia is not so much attachment to place as identification with particular groups of people. Laguna has recently begun to hold bocce tournaments on special feast days for different northern regions and towns. Each year for the past two decades the club has conducted a San Fior trophy. In 1989, the first Valtellina night was held; traditional Valtellinese food was

prepared.!9

Laguna represents a new campanilismo for its members. Similarly, Orsi found that the devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel in Italian Harlem transformed the emigrants’ campanilismo. He describes the festa as a catalyst for the development of community identification, solidarity and loyalty transcending the immigrants’ town-based campanilismo. Italian Harlem’ particular campanilismo is nowhere more evident than in the construction of its new bell-tower: It was also emphasized in the souvenir journal that the bell-tower was built by all the Italians of East Harlem, not by immigrants from any one region of the mezzogiorno. Italian Harlem, as we have seen, eventually attained a real sense of community identification, solidarity and loyalty transcending the campanilismo that the immigrants brought with them from Italy. The cult of Mt Carmel and events such as the construction of the bell-tower and the inevitable celebration that followed it contributed to the redirection of the people’ loyalties to Italian Harlem.?°

The transformation in campanilismo that occurs through Laguna is not as extensive as Italian Harlem’s. The vast majority of Laguna members are from the north of Italy and, despite a number of southern

Italian members, the identity of the club is definitely northern. The front of the clubhouse is graced with a bronze statue of St Mark's Lion,

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the symbol of Venice and the Veneto. Inside the main hall there are several paintings with Venetian themes. At formal Laguna functions there is no recognition of southern cuisine or customs. Members from

all regions are, however, welcome, although generally southern Italians only join because they are related, through marriage, to a northern Italian member. Although the North/South antagonism is evident in Laguna, the predominant attitude among first generation migrants is that northerners and southerners are more united in Australia than in Italy. The common experience of migration and sistemazione in Australia has brought people together far more than has occurred through the internal migration of southerners to northern regions in Italy. The clustering of Italians into the building industry, small business and certain trades has meant that Italians of different backgrounds have had opportunity to work together. Politically, too, Italians have come together (or have had to come together) as one ‘community’. At Laguna the North/South antagonism is treated with some ambivalence. Northern Italian members of every age took pains to distinguish themselves from southern Italians. Yet, close scrutiny of their social networks revealed a number of southern Italian friends or associates. There are a growing number of marriages between Australian-born northern Italian descendants and their southern counterparts. Second and third generation migrants were definitely not as antagonistic about the North/South division as their parents were. In the informal youth network of Italo-Australian second

generation migrants all the regional backgrounds are represented.*! Although the name, food and majority of its members are Veneto, the central importance of the game of bocce,?* familiar to all regions of

Italy, brings Laguna members into close association with their conationals. Bocce is played at six Italian clubs in Perth and competitions are frequently held between them.?> In addition, the best players of the annual tournament form a team to represent Western Australia in the National Championships. Bocce is, then, a symbol of national identity even though the competitions between the clubs are always talked about in regional terms. Bocce is another example of a unifying symbol that contains disunity. Unlike in Italy, in Australia bocce is played not only by men but by women and youth. Women’ participation in the sport has been increasing slowly. The Office of Women’s Interest promoted the sport in 1990, encouraging the Laguna women’s committee to make posters.

One such poster still hangs in Laguna’s entrance hall and reads, ‘Bocce

is our game, exercise is our aim’. In 1982, the Junior Bocce Federation

was established. In eastern Australia it has a wide following. Laguna

has contributed two youth players to interstate tournaments each year

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205

since the Federation began. Government grants were awarded in 1984 to publicise bocce as a sport for young people in Western Australia. The most effective promotion, however, is from father to son. The older men at Laguna laugh about the younger men’s interest in bocce: ‘For a while they participate when they are very young then they’d rather chase girls than bocce’. Renso Benato extends his definition of campanilismo to include other north Italian members of Laguna: Sometimes when you get all the cousins and friends it’s like San Fior a bit but you got the other people . . . But I don’t think they’re out, whether you're Conegliano, Tarzo, or where. It’s all there, as long as you're from Treviso or Vicenza, we are all there. It’s more like a family. 1 think they do the right things, especially when they cook themselves they do the best.

Fellow members are said to be, ‘the closest things to relatives you've got’. Many people told me that language is still a major problem, ‘even after fifty years here’, and yet in the confines of the regional club it can offer the most solace, as Guido Zamin explains: ‘The people who know

[you], when you talk you understand each other, and [so you] speak as you're brought up—as if you were at the table back in Italy with your mum and dad’. Paolo and Rita Camerin are both active members of the Laguna club. Rita described it as ‘in between family and town. When I’m there I feel good. I feel like its my second family. I feel relaxed and can let go’. Paolo is very proud of the club and commented that his relatives who have visited were all very impressed with Laguna because nothing like it exists in Italy. He compared his weekly meetings at Laguna with San Fior’s Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary and the Pan e Vin: ‘In San Fior they only have gatherings now and then like the main religious celebrations, and maybe the classe get together once a year. We, in Laguna, we get together every week’. Because of his busy job, Renso Benato does not attend Laguna as often as Paolo. However, the club is just as important to him: I think it’s a very good thing, for me too, because people I won't be able to meet. It's worth everything the club. It's worth much more for me because when like to see friends, paesani, and then you can go any and besides that, my wife enjoys it a lot. For her, nice. We are very lucky to have something like that.

I'm able to see what we give to you get old you time you want, I think it’s very

Alessia Benato has served on the women’s committee for many years. She goes to Italy frequently and was adamant that nothing like Laguna

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the symbol of Venice and the Veneto. Inside the main hall there are

several paintings with Venetian themes. At formal Laguna functions

there is no recognition of southern cuisine or customs. Members from all regions are, however, welcome, although generally southern Italians only join because they are related, through marriage, to a northern Italian member. Although the North/South antagonism is evident in Laguna, the predominant attitude among first generation migrants is that northerners and southerners are more united in Australia than in Italy. The common experience of migration and sistemazione in Australia has brought people together far more than has occurred through the internal migration of southerners to northern regions in Italy. The clustering of Italians into the building industry, small business and certain trades has meant that Italians of different backgrounds have had opportunity to work together. Politically, too, Italians have come together (or have had to come together) as one ‘community’. At Laguna the North/South antagonism is treated with some ambivalence. Northern Italian members of every age took pains to distinguish themselves from southern Italians. Yet, close scrutiny of their social networks revealed a number of southern Italian friends or associates. There are a growing number of marriages between Australian-born northern Italian descendants and their southern counterparts. Second and third generation migrants were definitely not as antagonistic about the North/South division as their parents were. In the informal youth network of Italo-Australian second generation migrants all the regional backgrounds are represented.*! Although the name, food and majority of its members are Veneto, the central importance of the game of bocce,”? familiar to all regions of Italy, brings Laguna members into close association with their conationals. Bocce is played at six Italian clubs in Perth and competitions

are frequently held between them.*? In addition, the best players of the annual tournament form a team to represent Western Australia in the National Championships. Bocce is, then, a symbol of national identity even though the competitions between the clubs are always

talked about in regional terms. Bocce is another example of a unifying

symbol that contains disunity. Unlike in Italy, in Australia bocce is played not only by men but by women and youth. Women’s participation in the sport has been increasing slowly. The Office of Women’s Interest promoted the sport

in 1990, encouraging the Laguna women’s committee to make posters. One such poster still hangs in Laguna’ entrance hall and reads, ‘Bocce is our game, exercise is our aim’. In 1982, the Junior Bocce Federation

was established. In eastern Australia it has a wide following. Laguna has contributed two youth players to interstate tournaments each year

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205

since the Federation began. Government grants were awarded in 1984 to publicise bocce as a sport for young people in Western Australia. The

most effective promotion,

however,

is from father to son. The

older men at Laguna laugh about the younger men’s interest in bocce: ‘For a while they participate when they are very young then they'd rather chase girls than bocce’. Renso Benato extends his definition of campanilismo to include other north Italian members of Laguna: Sometimes when you get all the cousins and friends it’s like San Fior a bit but you got the other people .. . But I don’t think they’re out, whether you’re Conegliano, Tarzo, or where. It’s all there, as long as you're

from

Treviso

or Vicenza,

we

are all there.

It's more

like a

family. | think they do the right things, especially when they cook themselves they do the best.

Fellow members are said to be, ‘the closest things to relatives you've got’. Many people told me that language is still a major problem, ‘even after fifty years here’, and yet in the confines of the regional club it can offer the most solace, as Guido Zamin explains: ‘The people who know [you], when you talk you understand each other, and [so you] speak as you're brought up—as if you were at the table back in Italy with your mum and dad’. Paolo and Rita Camerin

are both active members

of the Laguna

club. Rita described it as ‘in between family and town. When I'm there 1 feel good. I feel like its my second family. I feel relaxed and can let go’. Paolo is very proud of the club and commented that his relatives who have visited were all very impressed with Laguna because nothing like it exists in Italy. He compared his weekly meetings at Laguna with San Fior’s Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary and the Pan e Vin: ‘In San Fior they only have gatherings now and then like the main religious celebrations, and maybe the classe get together once a year. We, in Laguna, we get together every week’. Because of his busy job, Renso Benato does not attend Laguna as often as Paolo. However, the club is

just as important to him:

I think it’s a very good

thing,

for me

too, because

I’m able to see

people I won't be able to meet. It’s worth everything what we give to

the club. It’s worth much more for me because when you get old you like to see friends, paesani, and then you can go any time you want, and besides that, my wife enjoys it a lot. For her, I think it’s very nice. We are very lucky to have something like that.

Alessia Benato has served on the women’s committee for many years. She goes to Italy frequently and was adamant that nothing like Laguna

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Visits Home

exists in Italy: ‘There are bocce alleys but not for ladies . . . Laguna is a place where you can unwind, see your friends, play a game of bocce, somewhere you meet, doing that you don’t have to go and see them at home’. While Laguna plays a very important role in the lives of many San Fiorese migrants—‘Where else can I go?’, asks Giacomo Bottan—it is not well patronised by the second and third generation. The San Fiorese members of the Laguna Club were, for a time, concerned about their

children’s lack of interest in Laguna, seeing it as a rejection of their Italian origins. After several failed attempts at organising youth functions, the adult members have come to accept that Laguna does not meet their children’s social needs. Paolo and Rita were very philosophical about their children’s interest in Laguna, explaining that ‘our sons are happy for us, that we meet there, because they see that we have nowhere else to go’. Paolo added that his sons see him as oldfashioned and they see Laguna ‘in the same light’; however, when he asks them to attend, they do so happily. Similarly, Alessia Benato says she understands why her children are not interested in Laguna: ‘You can’t push them. Linda and her brothers mainly came when they were little for barbecues, but they never as they got older. The young, what do they come there and do? Probably they want to come just once a year that’s all’. The second generation San Fiorese I spoke to are happy to attend Laguna on special occasions, such as Father's Day and Mother's Day. The importance of attendance at these celebrations is very telling. On Father's and Mother's days children do things that make their parents happy. Consequently, these celebrations have become very important events at Laguna, simply because the children attend. Families sit together around their own table and traditional foods are served. On Mother's Day, the fathers serve, and on Father's Day, the mothers serve. Somewhat ironically, the children are always the honoured guests. Ugo Camerin summed up the general feeling about Laguna among the youth: ‘I wasn’t ever anti, it just wasn’t my scene. I don’t mind

going there once in a while to see everyone and say hi. I go whenever I get the chance, whenever they're having a big do, it’s quite fun’. Linda Botteon, despite being the youngest person I interviewed (she was twenty-one at the time), was not the most anti-Laguna of all informants. Being a young, single woman she says she ‘still gets dragged there some weekends’. Linda viewed Laguna in a positive light when she reflected on what it means to her parents: ‘Mum's been on the committee this year. She likes to get away from the house. Then Wednesdays, she goes and plays bowls. It’s very good for her. They don’t mind me not being interested. 1 think they understand the next generation. I

Campanilismo in the Host Country

207

mean, | think Laguna is going to die out eventually’. Rico and Tina

Tonos’ son, John, associates Laguna with San Fior. He has only attended

the club a few times but his parents do not ‘hassle’ him about it: ‘1 don’t really think they worry which way I take it, because they know I'm proud to be Italian. I prefer to visit Italy’. In the late 1990s a Triveneto youth club, the Unione Treveneti nel

Mondo (UTRIM) was founded with financial support from a private foundation in Treviso. It is comprised of Australian-born second and third generation migrants who organise cultural and social events. The Western Australian branch of UTRIM is the only one still operating; all its eastern states counterparts folded after only one or two years. UTRIM WA is affiliated with the Laguna Club and holds its meetings and functions on the premises. A number of international youth meetings have been organised by UTRIM, Treviso, and delegates from Western Australia attend. Ironically, rather than pleasing the first generation migrant members of Laguna, the existence of UTRIM has caused some tension between the generations over such things as the style and management of activities. Even so, UTRIM WA functions are well attended by younger Italo-Australians and while the nucleus is very small, the association appears to have a strong future.

Ettore, like John Tonos and Alessia Benato, contrasts the function of

clubs and associations with return visits to Italy. When he was asked to donate a large sum of money to the construction of the Laguna clubhouse he refused and said that if the money were to be spent on building a guest house in Italy for migrants to stay in while on their visits, he would contribute twice the requested amount very happily. He drew my attention to an article in the Trevisani nel Mondo newspaper. It was written by a Sydney migrant to his natal comune in Italy requesting that the Pro Loco build a guest house much like the one

Ettore

had

in mind.

Ettore

was

of the

opinion,

however,

that

the

financial responsibility for such an initiative should be absorbed by the migrants. This juxtaposition of clubs and associations and visits to Italy reveals that for some people the two are in contention. Laguna is described by its San Fior members as ‘a home away from home’ or ‘an extended family’. However, not all San Fiorese are members and to some, like

Ettore, Laguna and San Fior are more like antipodes. He sees Laguna as drawing people away from their home towns. Loyalty to home town and to Laguna very clearly came into conflict for the Camerins. Rita told me how her husband Paolo ‘missed’ seeing his mother before she died because when his mother wanted him to visit her, he was busy building the new Laguna clubhouse. The man in charge of construction, also

a San

Fiorese,

virtually

forbade

her husband

to leave—‘What?

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Visits Home

Impossible! You can't go to Italy now, we have to build the club’. Paolo and Rita are still very active in the club but that was one instance when

they say they both ‘damned the blessed place’. While there is great difficulty providing relevant entertainment to members of the second generation at clubs and associations, there is no problem getting them to make return visits to Italy. The migrants’ children obviously find Italy more attractive than Laguna. I discovered, first hand, that a number of San Fiorese emigrants meet up with each other while on visits to Italy. Guido and Corina Zamin met up with Rico and Tina Tonos in San Fior and then travelled together. Giacomo Bottan was able to extend his stay in San Fior because he could return to Perth with Franco and Maria Zamin instead of with his daughter, Alessia, who had to return earlier. As Ruth Mandel found in her study of Turkish migrants who visit home, I discovered that San Fiorese migrants actively sought each other out while in Italy because they felt more at ease with each other than with townspeople.”*

/ The Rhetoric of Return It’s where you were born, and your roots are always there, even though you are transplanted. (Corina)

The fact that some San Fiorese had to undertake permanent migrations in order to achieve sistemazione while others were able to stay behind has meant that family histories in San Fior are fractured. All representations of migration provided by the San Fiorese I interviewed are conditioned by these fractious family histories. Given their different experiences, the migrants and the townspeople have separate and often opposing discourses on migration that create an ongoing dialectic between the home and host ‘communities’. Although San Fiorese in both countries are connected in relationships of reciprocity, these reciprocal relations are fraught with tensions. The arena in which the discourses and tensions are clearest is during a visit encounter.

The historical dynamic of the relationship between those who stayed

and those who left, where the stay-behinds achieved successful sistemazioni and benessere (affluence) in their natal town, places the migrants in a

subordinate position in a variety of ways. Migrants who are permanently settled abroad and who have thus failed to fulfil their obligation to return, need to prove that their migration was successful. Given that the reason for migration was economic

advancement,

proof must be in

economic terms. This economic proof, however, is countered by the

cultural superiority professed by the townspeople who stayed behind. It

is clear from their attestations that the San Fiorese in Italy feel culturally superior to the San Fiorese of the diaspora. San Fior, the place, is conceived of by its inhabitants as the centre and the essence of what it

means to be San Fiorese—of affluence, of civilisation; in short, of ‘culture’.

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Visits Home

The cultural superiority professed by the San Fiorese in Italy places them in a hegemonic position. The migrants’ discourse is muted in Italy where the townspeople’s discourse is dominant. Due to its subordinate status, the migrants’ discourse tends to find expression in symbolic forms. There are a few migrants who, because of these tensions, refuse to visit home. The competition and conflict between the migrants and the stay-behinds constitute a type of ideological war in which both groups attempt to establish superiority through representations of self and place, sistemazione and campanilismo. People’s understanding of these concepts—and the symbolic forms they take—do not only change over time; they are also ambivalent and contradictory. While some migrants refuse to visit home, many second generation migrants plan, with great anticipation, a visit to their parents’ home town. Members of the second generation see their visits as transformative, as important to their sense of ethnic identity. One of the major issues in the visit encounter is incorporation—a

fundamental

component of campanilismo. There is also a set of related factors about the nature of community and consociate boundaries, mechanisms of inclusion and exclusion, and the structural dilemma that arises when, because of migration, visitors have to be given a location in, on, or

outside the boundary of the community. The variety of visit encounters detailed below provide insights into the multiple possible constructions

of campanilismo. (This is also illustrated in Table 1, ‘San Fiorese Visits’,

in Appendix 3.) The rivalry between the emigrants and the townspeople occurs on three levels—economic, familial and cultural. Analysis of the variety of visit experiences over time reveals how the socio-economic and political context of both Italy and Australia, the stage in family life cycle, and age and experience of visitor and visited combine to influence individual and collective identity.

Like Fish in the Fridge Piero Santolo was born in 1924 in Castello Roganzuolo. He migrated to Western Australia with his mother in 1935. It took seven years for Piero’s father, Francesco, to raise the money to bring his wife and son to Australia. Reflecting on his father’s experiences, Piero recalled: ‘the story he always told was that for years the only money he spent was on stamps to write to Mum and myself, he said it cost him one pound eighty. I'll always remember that amount’. I interviewed Piero and his wife, Doris, in their impressive home which is in the hills of Lesmurdie

and has beautiful views of the city of Perth. Piero married Doris Federici in 1951. Doris was born in Western Australia in 1928. Her grand-

The Rhetoric of Return

211

parents migrated from Valtellina in 1887 and her parents were also born in Western Australia. Piero’ parents returned to Italy on their first visit in the early 1960s, over thirty years after their marriage. Piero described the visit as ‘very emotional ... it was many years before they went back because they couldn’ afford it’. According to Piero, his parents had no intention of repatriating: ‘The impression that Dad spoke about was that they felt the standard of living was different in Australia; they worked maybe harder, but they got more out of it for themselves’. His parents visited San Fior again in 1970. Doris recalled how surprised they had been by the changes in the town: When they went back in the early ‘sixties, they really felt that things hadn't changed a great deal from when they were there themselves. They were contrasting very much with life here, saying how different it was here. I remember them saying how much things had changed when

they went back

the second

time, in

1970,

and

there didn’t

seem to be such a great gap.

When Piero and Doris went to Europe in 1973, they only stopped in San Fior for a few days. As Doris explained: ‘I couldn't speak any Italian at all, and Piero had a little bit of a chip on his shoulder’. Piero admitted he had been anti-Italian: ‘I was really mixed up, I wasn’t sure who I was. I think I thought in Italian and yet I spoke in English most of the time’. Doris recalled that when they met, Piero was very Australian outwardly and of his many friends, only one had been Italian. According to Piero: ‘The 1973 visit didn’t change the way I thought, it compounded it... We went back to the old house where I was born,

and my cousin still lives there. It wasn't difficult because I find it easy

to mix with people, but I think inwardly I wasn’t enjoying it. I was rejecting it’.

The next time Piero and Doris went to Italy was in 1984. They took their son and daughter-in-law. Piero describes the transformation he underwent: By that stage I really enjoyed going back and I my son and daughter-in-law where I had lived changed. I woke up that I was narrow-minded wrong thing to be .. . | was mixing more with all the time and their attitude changed as well.

was pleased to show and my attitude had and that it was the those that were here

Piero is here referring to his increased involvement in the Perth community of San Fiorese and the gradual development of solidarity between the two waves of migrants, facilitated by associations like Laguna and the ATM. Doris explained that Piero had been ‘quite

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surprised to find the Italians in Italy like we found them, plus the fact that our son and his wife were with us and they thought it was really lovely’. The two couples stayed in a hotel, despite offers to board with relatives, but they did accept the many invitations to dine with and visit friends and relatives. Piero’s self-attested transformation was caused by his change in attitude. For the first time, he began to feel proud of his origins. This change in Piero’s attitude is mirrored by the changes in the international reputation of Italy. In the 1980s, Italy had become in many eyes a reputable place of high culture and fashion. Piero’s acceptance of his Italian origins extended to an appreciation of all of Italy, not just the

Veneto region, as is the case with most San Fiorese migrants. In 1987,

Piero and Doris took their granddaughter Julia San Fior. Doris explains:

to Italy but did not visit

Her father is Sicilian so we decided to take her down to meet her relations ... She loved it, and she’s really close to her [paternal]

grandparents, and she was very pleased to see where they came from. We stayed with their relatives and they were really lovely. My parents and most other North Italians give you the impression that Sicily is a terrible place and the people are not nice. Well, we found the countryside was more beautiful and the people couldn't have been nicer.

Piero’s interest in places in Italy other than his home town is a characteristic of the second generation who tend to define being Italian at a national level. Unlike the first generation Italian migrants, who tend to mix only with people from their own region, as in the Laguna Veneto Club, the second generation are not bound by these regional

divisions and thus have a different sense of campanilismo.

Piero and Doris returned to San Fior in 1988. This is when I met them; as the Santolo family were not part of Laguna I had not met them in Perth. Piero explained to me why he continues to visit San Fior: ‘My attitude since my mother and father died has changed. I found that I wanted to get closer to relations because I haven't got any brothers or sisters and my whole attitude has changed towards Italy and Italians. Even here, with my relations I got closer’. During their 1988 trip, they visited Tirano in Valtellina, Doris’ grandfathers home town, but the highlight of their trip was renting a house in Conegliano, only 6 kilometres from San Fior. Piero explains: We decided we didn’t want to stay with relations ... Everyone wanted us to stay with them but we wanted to be independent so we could visit as many

as we could

and so we leased this house

in

The Rhetoric of Return

213

Conegliano and from there every day we used to work out a list to see two of our relations and the more that we saw, the more we

enjoyed it. Both of us were speaking good Italian by this stage. I could see Doris was enjoying it and I felt that I had something in common with them, whereas before I didn’t. They were five of the

happiest weeks of my life.

During that visit, Piero and Doris considered buying an apartment, but decided to wait until their next trip. They made arrangements to return the following year (1989) to stay for six months, and planned to buy an apartment then. Due to illness this trip was delayed until 1991. Piero described his desire to live in Italy as ‘some sort of need in me’. Since his parents died, he said, ‘the Italian side of me seems to have come through very, very strongly and I have to, not have to, but I would like to go back and try and live there’. Piero says the visits have ‘changed him’. This change was great enough for them to want to restructure their affairs in Perth and organise their business in such a way that they could live in Italy for six months each year. Piero felt welcome in San Fior: They were pleased that I had gone there and mixed with them and met them. I’ve always been a humble fellow and I think they appreciated this. Apparently a lot of Italians go there and act grandiose and tell everyone how great they are, how much money they have. I’m just the opposite type. What I have is my private affairs and that sort of made me part of them and they appreciated that.

Given that Piero emigrated as a child, he does not need to prove his successful sistemazione as do emigrating adults. The agenda of a child, instead, emphasises heritage and symbolic ethnicity.! Piero is not responsible for leaving his natal town. As the child of an emigrant he must only respect his ancestry. Piero is accepted into the town, not

because he was born there, but because his father was born there.

Doris explained: ‘Piero’ dad was a lovely man, a very happy, jovial man, and Piero looks very much like his father and so everyone would say, “Oh, Francesco's son”. Because they all loved Francesco so much, Piero was accepted straight away’. Piero’s experience of return is both a discovery and a transformation as it is for the emigrants’ children, but it is also a reconciliation and a renewal, as it is for the emigrants. Piero’ initial dislike of Italy was compounded by his wife's inability to speak Italian. Doris told me that Piero’s mother had been very domineering and had pushed him to interact with Italians. This ‘domineering manner’, according to both Doris and Piero, caused Piero to rebel and deny his italianita. The anti-

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Visits Home

surprised to find the Italians in Italy like we found them, plus the fact that our son and his wife were with us and they thought it was really lovely’. The two couples stayed in a hotel, despite offers to board with relatives, but they did accept the many invitations to dine with and visit friends and relatives. Piero’s self-attested transformation was caused by his change in attitude. For the first time, he began to feel proud of his origins. This change in Piero’ attitude is mirrored by the changes in the international reputation of Italy. In the 1980s, Italy had become in many eyes a reputable place of high culture and fashion. Piero’s acceptance of his Italian origins extended to an appreciation of all of Italy, not just the Veneto region, as is the case with most San Fiorese migrants. In 1987,

Piero and Doris took their granddaughter Julia to Italy but did not visit San Fior. Doris explains:

Her father is Sicilian so we decided to take her down to meet her relations

...

She

loved

it, and

she’s really close to her

[paternal]

grandparents, and she was very pleased to see where they came from. We stayed with their relatives and they were really lovely. My parents and most other North Italians give you the impression that Sicily is a terrible place and the people are not nice. Well, we found the countryside was more beautiful and the people couldn't have been nicer.

Piero’ interest in places in Italy other than his home town is a characteristic of the second generation who tend to define being Italian at a national level. Unlike the first generation Italian migrants, who

tend to mix only with people from their own region, as in the Laguna

Veneto Club, the second generation are not bound by these regional

divisions and thus have a different sense of campanilismo. Piero and Doris returned to San Fior in 1988. This is when I met them; as the Santolo family were not part of Laguna I had not met them in Perth. Piero explained to me why he continues to visit San Fior: ‘My attitude since my mother and father died has changed. | found that I wanted to get closer to relations because | haven't got any brothers or sisters and my whole attitude has changed towards Italy and Italians. Even here, with my relations I got closer’. During their 1988 trip, they visited Tirano in Valtellina, Doris’ grandfather's home town, but the highlight of their trip was renting a house in Conegliano, only 6 kilometres from San Fior. Piero explains: We decided we didn’t want to stay with relations ... Everyone wanted us to stay with them but we wanted to be independent so we could visit as many

as we could

and so we leased this house

in

The Rhetoric of Return

213

Conegliano and from there every day we used to work out a list to see two of our relations and the more

that we saw, the more

we

enjoyed it. Both of us were speaking good Italian by this stage. I could see Doris was enjoying it and I felt that 1 had something in common with them, whereas before I didn’t. They were five of the happiest weeks of my life.

During that visit, Piero and Doris considered buying an apartment, but decided to wait until their next trip. They made arrangements to return the following year (1989) to stay for six months, and planned to buy an apartment then. Due to illness this trip was delayed until 1991. Piero described his desire to live in Italy as ‘some sort of need in me’. Since his parents died, he said, ‘the Italian side of me seems to

have come through very, very strongly and I have to, not have to, but I would like to go back and try and live there’. Piero says the visits have ‘changed him’. This change was great enough for them to want to restructure their affairs in Perth and organise their business in such a way that they could live in Italy for six months each year. Piero felt welcome in San Fior: They were pleased that I had gone there and mixed with them and met them. I’ve always been a humble fellow and I think they appreciated this. Apparently a lot of Italians go there and act grandiose and tell everyone how great they are, how much money they have. I’m just the opposite type. What I have is my private affairs and that sort of made me part of them and they appreciated that.

Given that Piero emigrated as a child, he does not need to prove his successful sistemazione as do emigrating adults. The agenda of a child, instead, emphasises heritage and symbolic ethnicity.! Piero is not responsible for leaving his natal town. As the child of an emigrant he must only respect his ancestry. Piero is accepted into the town, not

because he was born there, but because his father was born there.

Doris explained: ‘Piero’ dad was a lovely man, a very happy, jovial man, and Piero looks very much like his father and so everyone would say, “Oh, Francesco’s son”. Because they all loved Francesco so much,

Piero was accepted straight away’. Piero’s experience of return is both a discovery and a transformation as it is for the emigrants’ children, but it is also a reconciliation and a renewal, as it is for the emigrants. Piero’s initial dislike of Italy was compounded by his wife’s inability to speak Italian. Doris told me that Piero’s mother had been very domineering and had pushed him to interact with Italians. This ‘domineering manner’, according to both Doris and Piero, caused Piero to rebel and deny his italianita. The anti-

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Visits Home

surprised to find the Italians in Italy like we found them, plus the fact that our son and his wife were with us and they thought it was really lovely’. The two couples stayed in a hotel, despite offers to board with relatives, but they did accept the many invitations to dine with and visit friends and relatives. Piero’s self-attested transformation was caused by his change in attitude. For the first time, he began to feel proud of his origins. This change in Piero’s attitude is mirrored by the changes in the international reputation of Italy. In the 1980s, Italy had become in many eyes a reputable place of high culture and fashion. Piero’s acceptance of his Italian origins extended to an appreciation of all of Italy, not just the

Veneto region, as is the case with most San Fiorese migrants. In 1987,

Piero and Doris took their granddaughter Julia to Italy but did not visit San Fior. Doris explains:

Her father is Sicilian so we decided to take her down to meet her relations ... She loved it, and she’s really close to her [paternal]

grandparents, and she was very pleased to see where they came from. We stayed with their relatives and they were really lovely. My parents and most other North Italians give you the impression that Sicily is a terrible place and the people are not nice. Well, we found the countryside was more beautiful and the people couldn't have been nicer.

Piero’s interest in places in Italy other than his home town is a characteristic of the second generation who tend to define being Italian at a national level. Unlike the first generation Italian migrants, who tend to mix only with people from their own region, as in the Laguna

Veneto Club, the second generation are not bound by these regional divisions and thus have a different sense of campanilismo. Piero and Doris returned to San Fior in 1988. This is when I met them; as the Santolo family were not part of Laguna I had not met them in Perth. Piero explained to me why he continues to visit San Fior: ‘My attitude since my mother and father died has changed. | found that I wanted to get closer to relations because I haven't got any brothers or sisters and my whole attitude has changed towards Italy and Italians. Even here, with my relations I got closer’. During their 1988 trip, they visited Tirano in Valtellina, Doris’ grandfathers home town, but the highlight of their trip was renting a house in Conegliano, only 6 kilometres from San Fior. Piero explains: We decided we didn’t want to stay with relations ... Everyone wanted us to stay with them but we wanted to be independent so we could visit as many

as we could

and so we leased this house

in

The Rhetoric of Return

213

Conegliano and from there every day we used to work out a list to see two of our relations and the more that we saw, the more we enjoyed it. Both of us were speaking good Italian by this stage. I could see Doris was enjoying it and I felt that I had something in common with them, whereas before I didn’t. They were five of the happiest weeks of my life.

During that visit, Piero and Doris considered buying an apartment, but decided to wait until their next trip. They made arrangements to return the following year (1989) to stay for six months, and planned to buy an apartment then. Due to illness this trip was delayed until 1991. Piero described his desire to live in Italy as ‘some sort of need in me’. Since his parents died, he said, ‘the Italian side of me seems to have come through very, very strongly and I have to, not have to, but I would like to go back and try and live there’. Piero says the visits have ‘changed him’. This change was great enough for them to want to restructure their affairs in Perth and organise their business in such a way that they could live in Italy for six months each year. Piero felt welcome in San Fior: They were pleased that I had gone there and mixed with them and met them. I’ve always been a humble fellow and I think they appreciated this. Apparently a lot of Italians go there and act grandiose and tell everyone how great they are, how much money they have. I’m just the opposite type. What I have is my private affairs and that sort of made me part of them and they appreciated that.

Given that Piero emigrated as a child, he does not need to prove his successful sistemazione as do emigrating adults. The agenda of a child, instead, emphasises heritage and symbolic ethnicity.! Piero is not responsible for leaving his natal town. As the child of an emigrant he must only respect his ancestry. Piero is accepted into the town, not because he was born there, but because his father was born there.

Doris explained: ‘Piero’s dad was a lovely man, a very happy, jovial man, and Piero looks very much like his father and so everyone would say, “Oh, Francesco's son”. Because they all loved Francesco so much, Piero was accepted straight away’. Piero’ experience of return is both a discovery and a transformation as it is for the emigrants’ children, but it is also a reconciliation and a renewal, as it is for the emigrants. Piero’s initial dislike of Italy was compounded by his wife's inability to speak Italian. Doris told me that Pieros mother had been very domineering and had pushed him to interact with Italians. This ‘domineering manner’, according to both

Doris and Piero, caused Piero to rebel and deny his italianita. The anti-

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Visits Home

surprised to find the Italians in Italy like we found them, plus the fact that our son and his wife were with us and they thought it was really lovely’. The two couples stayed in a hotel, despite offers to board with relatives, but they did accept the many invitations to dine with and visit friends and relatives. Piero’s self-attested transformation was caused by his change in attitude. For the first time, he began to feel proud of his origins. This change in Piero’s attitude is mirrored by the changes in the international reputation of Italy. In the 1980s, Italy had become in many eyes a

reputable place of high culture and fashion. Piero’s acceptance of his Italian origins extended to an appreciation of all of Italy, not just the

Veneto region, as is the case with most San Fiorese migrants. In 1987,

Piero and Doris took their granddaughter Julia to Italy but did not visit San Fior. Doris explains:

Her father is Sicilian so we decided to take her down to meet her relations

...

She

loved

it, and

she’s really close to her

[paternal]

grandparents, and she was very pleased to see where they came from. We stayed with their relatives and they were really lovely. My parents and most other North Italians give you the impression that Sicily is a terrible place and the people are not nice. Well, we found the countryside was more beautiful and the people couldn't have been nicer.

Piero’s interest in places in Italy other than his home town is a characteristic of the second generation who tend to define being Italian at a national level. Unlike the first generation Italian migrants, who tend to mix only with people from their own region, as in the Laguna Veneto Club, the second generation are not bound by these regional divisions and thus have a different sense of campanilismo. Piero and Doris returned to San Fior in 1988. This is when I met them; as the Santolo family were not part of Laguna I had not met them in Perth. Piero explained to me why he continues to visit San Fior: ‘My attitude since my mother and father died has changed. | found that I wanted to get closer to relations because I haven’t got any brothers or sisters and my whole attitude has changed towards Italy and Italians. Even here, with my relations I got closer’. During their 1988 trip, they visited Tirano in Valtellina, Doris’ grandfathers home town, but the highlight of their trip was renting a house in Conegliano, only 6 kilometres from San Fior. Piero explains: We decided we didn’t want to stay with relations ... Everyone wanted us to stay with them but we wanted to be independent so we could visit as many as we could and so we leased this house in

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213

Conegliano and from there every day we used to work out a list to see two

of our relations and

the more

that we

saw, the more

we

enjoyed it. Both of us were speaking good Italian by this stage. I could see Doris was enjoying it and I felt that I had something in common with them, whereas before I didn’t. They were five of the

happiest weeks of my life.

During that visit, Piero and Doris considered buying an apartment, but decided to wait until their next trip. They made arrangements to return the following year (1989) to stay for six months, and planned to buy an apartment then. Due to illness this trip was delayed until 1991. Piero described his desire to live in Italy as ‘some sort of need in

me’. Since his parents died, he said, ‘the Italian side of me seems to

have come through very, very strongly and I have to, not have to, but I would like to go back and try and live there’. Piero says the visits have ‘changed him’. This change was great enough for them to want to restructure their affairs in Perth and organise their business in such a

way that they could live in Italy for six months each year. Piero felt welcome in San Fior: They were pleased that | had gone there and mixed with them and met them. I’ve always been a humble fellow and | think they appreciated this. Apparently a lot of Italians go there and act grandiose and tell everyone how great they are, how much money they have. I’m just the opposite type. What I have is my private affairs and that sort of made me part of them and they appreciated that.

Given that Piero emigrated as a child, he does not need to prove his successful sistemazione as do emigrating adults. The agenda of a child, instead, emphasises heritage and symbolic ethnicity.! Piero is not responsible for leaving his natal town. As the child of an emigrant he must only respect his ancestry. Piero is accepted into the town, not

because he was born there, but because his father was born Doris explained: ‘Pieros dad was a lovely man, a very happy, man, and Piero looks very much like his father and so everyone say, “Oh, Francesco’ son”. Because they all loved Francesco so Piero was accepted straight away’.

there. jovial would much,

Piero’s experience of return is both a discovery and a transformation as it is for the emigrants’ children, but it is also a reconciliation and a renewal, as it is for the emigrants. Piero’s initial dislike of Italy was compounded by his wife’s inability to speak Italian. Doris told me that Pieros mother had been very domineering and had pushed him to interact with Italians. This ‘domineering manner’, according to both

Doris and Piero, caused Piero to rebel and deny his italianita. The anti-

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Visits Home

Italian social and political climate in Australia during Piero’s youth undoubtably contributed to his rejection of Italy. Although the circum-

stances are quite different, Piero’ reconciliation, like Franco Zamin’,

is akin to that of the prodigal son. I interviewed Anna Santolo in her two-storey, Italian-style home, hidden in the hills of Bedfordale where she lives with her ailing mother. Lhad not met Anna before I went to interview her. I think Anna agreed to be interviewed because she was curious about my research. Despite requesting a meeting, I was not invited to speak to her mother after our interview. Anna told me that she had given me ‘all the information they knew’ and said that her mother would not have been able to ‘expand on it’. It may have been because Anna’s mother was ill, or perhaps Anna was protecting her from my desire to dig up the past and the painful nostalgia this would trigger.

Anna’s father, Nicolo, was born in 1903 and migrated to Australia in

1927. In 1949, over twenty years later, he returned to Italy and married Lucia Boaro. Nicolo had attempted to return earlier but was unable to because of the war. According to Anna, her father’s intention had not

been to settle in Italy: ‘He was fully established here [in Western Australia] by that stage’. His intention, rather, was to marry. He did not

return to Australia with his wife until 1951:

They were living in an extended family . . . 1 remember Dad saying it was difficult because one would want to do farming this way, another would want to do it the other way . . .very rapidly he found that he preferred to stay here. I think perhaps his character, he was very individual in his ideas. I think the fact of having to go back to that family situation didn’t suit him. Here he could be his own man and set up his own family.

Anna visited Italy for the first time in 1975, with a non-Italian school friend. They stayed in San Fior for three weeks with her maternal uncle, Stefano, who had by this time repatriated. Anna had not intended to stay that long, having originally planned a busy schedule of European travel with only a brief visit to San Fior: It was fabulous because it was putting into a concrete situation what I'd been picturing all along. You could actually see where the church was... Then meeting all my relatives. It made me feel as though most of my family is away, is over there, because you were just so welcomed, they really thought it was marvelous to meet me.

Like Piero, Anna spoke of a transformation. She developed a ‘sense of belonging’, which, she says, gets stronger each time she visits: ‘in 1975 it was really curiosity. Italy was no more important than any other

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215

country in Europe. Then once the contact with the family had been made, I just feel that I’m part of it now, and it’s good to go back and see them’. Anna’s parents made their first trip back in 1976, when they stayed for four months. Anna reported that they found the visit ‘fabulous .. . they could see how things were much better, everyone was so happy to see them. Yet they wanted to come back to Australia’. Anna stressed the miracolo of change that had occurred in the town between 1951 and 1976, by describing the improvements in the plumbing:? ‘It was pretty primitive, like they didn’t even have running water until the 1960s and I find that amazing and now it’s just really flash, so it’s been a rapid turn-around’. Anna returned with her mother in 1986 for a six-week visit. Again they stayed with Stefano: ‘They were becoming more prosperous, you could see that their houses were becoming more furnished’. Anna and her mother returned again in 1988 and 1990. During these two visits they stayed with her mother’s other siblings. The question of repatriation was raised: ‘That's when it really started, “Why don’t you all just come back. You’re coming here often, why don’t you just come back and live?” And I say it’s a different way of life for me in Australia and I’m used to it and I like it that way, and I love Italy as a holiday but I would find it difficult to stay permanently there’. The invitation to stay arose partly because Anna’s father had died. The obligations of family to widowed siblings is not diminished by migration; rather it is amplified. The townspeople bear a sense of duty and of debt to those who have migrated, demonstrated also by the gift from Don Giovanni of an altar for the church in San Fior, which fulfils

a spiritual obligation, and the Trevisani Association’s concern about the plight of their members in South America. The obligation felt by townspeople to emigrants is not only spiritual, but cultural. Most San Fiorese have an image of Australia as a primitive place and believe that

no matter how affluent Australians may be, they lack the superior

culture offered by Italy. (‘Culture’, as it is used in this sense, refers not only to material culture but to the notion of authenticity and essence or roots.) Although they want to bring Anna and her mother to ‘civilised’ San Fior, Anna described her relatives’ impression of Australia as improving: Probably through television and more of us going over there and explaining it to them. They’re beginning to understand, some of them, that maybe we do have a nice land down here. And then some of them have come and have seen and they go back and say and so it’s getting through that it’s not as primitive as they may have thought.

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Visits Home

The emigrants are sensitive to the cultural superiority the San Fiorese in Italy profess to have over them. Anna and I spoke at length about the reputation of Italians in Italy for criticising Italo-Australians: ‘That sort of thing doesn’t worry me. I’ve always been told that in Italy they'll scrutinise everything you do and what you wear and I kind of feel,

well I’m an eccentric to them and so what, it doesn’t bother me. But I

know it does bother lots of Australians. Lots that go back’. Anna plans to visit Italy again and she keeps in close contact with her relatives in San Fior: ‘We are always ringing and they're always saying “When are you coming?”. Anna explained that visiting Italy was as much a holiday for her relatives as it was for her. She would hire a car and take her mother and relatives on sightseeing excursions. Because neither Anna nor Piero’s parents participated in the Laguna Bocce Club, it has never figured in Anna and Piero’s campanilismo. For Anna and Piero, their trips to San Fior are the focus. Recently, Piero

has begun to frequent the Trevisani nel Mondo dinners. Piero’s renewed attachment to San Fior is manifested in his decision to participate in Trevisani activities in Perth. I made contact with the San Fiorese in Queensland through Giacomo Bottan, who wrote me a letter of introduction to Angelo Santolo. Angelo’s son Roberto wrote back and invited me to stay with his family in Home Hill. 1 stayed with Roberto and his wife, Patrizia, for a few

days in December 1990. Roberto took me to visit his parents and his

aunt.

Besides

Luciano,

who

returned

to Italy due

to illness,

the

other

Santolo brothers who worked in Home Hill all returned to San Fior to marry. I had dinner with Angelo, his wife, Stella, their daughter, Angela,

and son-in-law, Dario Reginato. Angelo described the ‘marriage by relay’

to us:

Gaetano Zanardi [Angelo’s first cousin] went back to Italy in 1933 and he found a girlfriend up there and in 1936 he brought her out here. Then after, my brother, Domenico, went back to Italy at the

end of 1936 and he got married and he come back here in 1937 in June. Then me, I got home at the end of 1937 and then found a girl and got married .. . | never knew her, somebody switched me on to her.

Dario interrupted to say they probably told Stella that Angelo was a rich cane-cutter from Home Hill. Angelo silenced our laughter with: ‘That's exactly what they said!’. Enrico, the remaining brother, was married by proxy.? He had been shown photographs of Domenico’ wife's sisters. Angelo told us: ‘Domenico had the photo and Enrico said, “Oh, she’s very nice looking”, and this and that, so they organised

The Rhetoric of Return

217

it and he called her down. She came down two months after me. We were supposed to come down together but she never had the papers ready so she came down in August. They never knew each other’. Angelo had wanted to repatriate to Italy with his family but his plans were thwarted by the war. His daughter, Angela, remembered that when she came home from school, if she spoke to her father in English she would get no response: ‘He'd say, “One of these days you’ve got to go and live in Italy. You’ve got to be able to speak Italian” . . . 1 could not speak English when I went to school’. Angelo and Stella have visited Italy together four times. Reflecting on these visits, Angelo spoke of the relationship between San Fiorese in Italy and Australia: And now I’ve been there a few times and they ask me, “Why don’t you stop here?” “You can stay here but not me”, I say, “no way”. We don’t agree with the people there any more. They got different ideas. Too much talk. They say, “What do you know, you've been in jail all your life”. They told me that, you know. I say, “Who's been in jail? You, not me”. They all say that because, I tell you the truth, in Italy, Australia is never mentioned at all. I was reading the paper every

day . . . to see what's going on here, you know, something? Nothing, nothing and nothing.

This altercation reveals a dynamic of competition in the relationship between migrants and townspeople. On the one hand, the local townsman is boasting that, despite being left behind and not migrating, he has achieved a successful sistemazione in San Fior and is, thus, culturally

superior. On the other hand, Angelo boasts his own achievements and points out that the San Fiorese are ignorant of Australia. The two parties contend for recognition and superiority. Angelo can claim greater knowledge and worldliness. The local townsman, however, interprets

Angelo's return as his desire to repatriate. The migrant’s repatriation is

seen as the ultimate proof that San Fior is the better place in which to

live. Angelo spoke of ‘losing’ his desire to return to San Fior to live, in part because his extended family members are all settled in France. Angelo’s first trip back after getting married was with his whole family in 1955. They stayed nine months. Angelo recalled that his son, Roberto, would continually ask when they were going home. Angelo would tell him that they were home, that they were staying in Italy: ‘and Roberto, he say, “All right, if you want to stay here you can stay, but when I grow up, I go to Australia”. He used to say that all the time’. The standard of living in San Fior in 1955 was, according to

Angelo, much lower than in Queensland, so they decided to return to

Australia.

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Visits Home

Angelo and Stella say remain in San Fior. With connections to the place: professed feelings for San

they have little in common with those who no family in the town, Angelo feels he has no ‘—just that I was born there’. Despite their Fior, Angelo and Stella continue to visit regu-

larly. Their son, Roberto (who married Patrizia, of Sicilian extraction),

has not visited Italy since the family visit in 1955. Their daughter,

Angela, visited San Fior with her husband, Dario, and their two children in 1971. Their other daughter, Nola, married Fred Reginato, Dario’

brother.

They

have

never

visited

San

Fior.

(Dario

and

Fred

Carniel-Santolo,

who

were born in Pordenone, Friuli, about 50 kilometres east of San Fior.) Roberto

took

me

to visit his aunt,

Emma

invited her brother, Ruggero, and his wife, Teresina Preo, to attend the

meeting. Emma’s late husband Domenico migrated to Australia in 1927 and returned to Italy to marry in 1936. Emma came to Australia with her husband in 1937. The whole family visited San Fior together in 1954. They decided not to repatriate because ‘things were better here [in Australia] at that time’. In 1964, 1967 and 1976 Emma and Domenico made visits on their own. They did not repatriate on these visits because they were already established in Queensland and their children had begun to set themselves up there. Emma declared that it was time for her to go back to Italy. Her sister-in-law, Teresina, responded with incredulity: 1 couldn't stand it. As soon as you go back there they look at you from the top to the bottom. That's because there is class in Italy, not like in Australia. I didn’t like the system there. Here it’s a bit more free, you can go as you like and nobody turns around and looks at you. Instead there you have to always be dressed top, because, I don’t know if it’s because you come from Australia or whatever but they really do look at you from the bottom to the top.

Teresina was very vocal about the tensions between the San Fiorese in Italy and the emigrants: ‘The Italians can’t stand the Australians that go and visit, they hate them’. A heated discussion ensued between the sisters-in-law regarding visits to Italy. Emma liked to visit, and Teresina did not: ‘It’s different altogether now, you don’t belong nowhere when you're there. They can pick your dress—they know you're Australian’. Ruggero interjected: ‘At that time it was better here, but now it is better in Italy. I didn’t like it in Australia at first, but now we're used to

it here, because in Italy they have a different everything, different meaning’. Ruggero’s opinion that life is better in Italy only served to fuel the discussion between Teresina and Emma. Teresina married Ruggero in 1950. She discovered she was pregnant soon after Ruggero had migrated to Australia in 1951. Teresina then

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219

decided to join her husband instead of waiting for him to return: ‘I

never had children after my first one because I was waiting to go back to Italy, but after five years I said we'd better have another because we were not going to Italy any more’. The couple explained why they had not repatriated: Ruggero

You

start to make

a lira,

then

two

lire, then

more

and

more. Teresina

Yes, that’s the story.

Ruggero

That time it was a lot of money because in the old country was real bad, if you go in the old country with that money you could buy more there than here. They all came out to go back.

Teresina

Ruggero _ Every one of them, every one.

Ruggero and Teresina made one trip back to Italy in 1965 with their two sons. One son came home after only a few days because he did not like it and was missing his girlfriend. I asked them if they could return to Italy now. Teresina explained that Emma and Ruggero could because they have siblings in Italy, but that she could not because she had ‘no one’. Despite believing that San Fior was more affluent than Home Hill, Ruggero and Emma agreed that Italy was a nice place to visit but not to stay. During the course of the afternoon Roberto’ sister, Nola, arrived with her husband, Fred Reginato. Fred told me that his

father came out in 1927, apparently because he married a woman

from a family with whom his was feuding.

The frequency of visits to San Fior seems to be influenced by the number of relatives the emigrant has there. With few relatives in San Fior, Teresina’s life is focused on her children in Queensland.

For

Teresina, campanilismo is determined by kin. The Queensland emigrants do not have the same community of reference as the one that exists for the Perth emigrants. Going to San Fior is not a part of developing their Italo-Australian identity as it is for San Fiorese in Perth. The Queensland emigrants I spoke to had all visited the San Fiorese in Perth. Teresina actually preferred visiting Perth to visiting Italy. The division between emigrants over whether life is better in San Fior or in Australia is openly expressed by Franco and Maria Zamin:

‘She supports Italy, I support Australia. It’s always a battle’. In 1956, six years after their marriage, Franco and Maria visited Italy. Maria said she remembers it well: ‘The first visit was just a holiday, but when | returned I had a hard time settling back into life here. I really loved my trip and the way everyone helped with my three small children. I’ve always felt at home on every visit’. Franco, however, admits that he has

not felt at home on visits to San Fior since his mother died in 1980.

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Visits Home

Her death has significantly changed Franco's sense of attachment to San Fior. In general, ties (and obligations) between emigrants and townspeople are strongest between parents and children. Visitors invariably stayed at their parents’ home while they were still alive, not least because the parental home is the only home emigrants usually have any rights over. After the death of one’s parents, finding a suitable place to stay during visits becomes an issue to consider. Maria did not agree with Franco's idea that his attachment to the town rested with his mother: ‘He always says that, “His mother, his mother’—but it's still your town!’ Franco explained that he had only lived in Italy for nineteen years, the last year of which he was at war. His father died when he was very young and for these reasons Franco

felt he had few ties to the town. Franco described losing the love of his

patria then rediscovering it with the arrival of townspeople in Australia and his first return visit: ‘My first visit was good. I mother who was very pleased to see me because she had once that I might be dead. To be honest I had forgotten her a bit. began to call down the men from San Fior, then my feelings

were ripreso [rekindled]’.

Western saw my thought When I for Italy

Franco and Maria made their first return visit to San Fior much earlier than any of their paesani in Perth. Franco spoke of the impression he made on the townspeople during that visit: ‘They were all poor at that time and they come to ask me about Australia, I spoke of my good fortune’. In 1963, Franco sold the timber mill and returned to Italy with the intention of settling there. He considered buying 120 hectares of land near Lignano Mare, about 80 kilometres from San Fior. Although Maria wanted to return to Italy, she did not want to settle anywhere except in San Fior. The idea of living off the land did not appeal to her at all. They decided to return to Australia. The tension about which is the better place to live and the rivalry between people in the two places is most evident in Franco Zamin’s experience. The fact that he was indirectly responsible for the emigration of ‘half the town’ to Perth makes it crucial that he prove his successful sistemazione. Franco’s descriptions of his return visits are full of references to the rivalry with those townsmen who stayed behind. Commenting on his earliest visit in 1948, he said: ‘The first time I went back, my mother, who was a dressmaker, said she’d never seen

such a beautiful tailored suit. 1 went back well-dressed’. This statement is significant considering the preoccupation with dress apparent in many migrants’ discussions. Teresina’s objections to being ‘looked at from top to bottom’ were echoed by many others and they form part of the general view of townspeople in San Fior, that Italy is superior to Australia in all things.

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221

Since the industrialisation of Italy, the popular view of cultural superiority has been developing steadily. Franco's reference to being ‘well-dressed’ is a comment about the cultural state of Australia. Franco is painfully aware of the way emigrants are ridiculed by the San Fiorese for their out-of-fashion clothes and he knows that Italy is exalted for its fashion. If in 1948, Franco wore a better suit than anyone in San Fior, this is the most emphatic way Franco can draw a comparison between the standard of living in the two places at that time. Franco's accounts of all his visits to San Fior are replete with allusions to this symbolic competition. The first return visit as a family is recalled with much enthusiasm by all informants. The image presented is one of arriving in the town to a hero’s welcome. Some of the visiting emigrants ‘drove’ into town after travelling by ship to Italy, having transported their cars with them. According to Franco, the presence of the car was as wondrous as the presence of the visitors: When we went out the first time in 1956 by boat, I took my car. We

arrived and everyone was going to mass. I parked the car in front of her [Maria’s] uncle’s shop [situated opposite the church square] and

when they’d heard that I'd arrived with a car, there were at least three hundred people there around the car. It was a Custom Line.

Maria explained that her townspeople were curious about their car as ‘there were no cars in the town then; only the doctor had a little car’. Franco recalled that his nephew wanted to borrow the car to pick up his girlfriend: ‘He wanted to be a big man, even him’. Just as they had with their attire, Franco and Maria proved their financial superiority with the presence of their car. Most migrants made their first return visit during the early 1960s. At this time, emigrants judged that life in Australia offered them more possibilities than did life in San Fior. San Fior only began to show signs of increased prosperity in the late 1960s. Maria explained that she and her family ‘saw the great transformation in 1974 during our third visit’. Franco explained that from this time the Italians felt they were superior: ‘From the day Italy had the miracolo, Italy si esalta [extols itself]’. The economic transformation in northern Italy has made it difficult for the Australian emigrants to prove their successful migration. There is tension between the emigrants and the townspeople due, on the one hand, to the economic transformation which defines their migration as

no longer necessary for sistemazione, and, on the other hand, to their failure to return, which creates problematic reciprocal relations between the emigrants and the townspeople. Franco feels this tension acutely

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Visits Home

because he assumes responsibility for the emigration to Australia of many of his townspeople: When Italy was doing badly, everyone now [1990s] that Italy is doing well, why do you go to Australia? America is now. They say that they have the good

wanted to come to Australia, I go there and they say, ‘But here’. They criticise Australia life in Italy. It’s true they are

well-off but I even told my mother-in-law. She said, ‘Franco, why

don’t you stay here?’ ‘No’, I said, ‘I come here, make my visit to my town, I like my nation, my companions, my relations, but I will go to Australia, that's where I made my life, that’s where I'll stay’. The elderly women, who were once young when I was young, who went to school with me, say, ‘Franco, why do you leave?’ and they always aggravate me

[mi seccavano sempre]. 1 would get angry and say to

them that if I died I would want my bones in Australia.

Franco’ desire to be buried in Australia is a significant comment on his campanilismo. Given the importance of the dead to the inhabitants of San Fior, Franco's public admonition that he prefers not to be buried in San Fior is a statement about his attachment to Australia. It is significant that the opposition between places is between San Fior and Australia as opposed to San Fior and Perth or Italy and Australia. This contrast reveals the shifting focus of campanilismo for the migrants. The boundary condition for San Fior is as a place vis-a-vis other local places in northern Italy, in particular, within the province of Treviso. To the San Fiorese in Italy, campanilismo means the town. San Fior is the central defining unit and thus all other localities are defined in relation to it. Australia, in its vast entirety, thus becomes

another locality in relation to San Fior, just like other provincial towns. From the vantage point of San Fior, Australia is an undifferentiated place. The boundary condition centres on San Fior versus all other localities. San Fior is the centre of the universe. To San Fiorese in Australia, however, the locality of campanilismo is embodied in variable ways. For some migrants, for example Piero, Emma and Ruggero, campanilismo is signified by the idea of San Fior, a specific locality. For others, for example Franco and Anna, it is signified by Australia. For others still, campanilismo is signified by the Laguna Veneto Club in Perth. The San Fiorese invariably nominate Australia when they are referring to Perth. They have little idea of the size of the country. All the Australian migrants spoke of the negative view that San Fiorese in Italy have of Australia. Many people commented to me that their relatives described Australia disparagingly, ‘as a place of kangaroos, serpents and primitives’. Recently, this negative view of Australia has gradually

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223

changed due to the increasing number of San Fiorese who have visited Perth and returned to San Fior with positive reports. Even Maria Zamin, who openly admits to preferring life in San Fior, said that few people she spoke to in Italy had any idea what Australia was like: One day at the hairdressers my cousin came in and she is older than me and she said, ‘But Maria, what are you doing in Australia; that

ugly land where there is nothing but snakes and kangaroos?’ I said, ‘But cousin, do you think I would stay in the place if I didn’t like it?’ ‘Oh’, she said, ‘But you don’t even have banks or dentists there’. I

told her that we have plenty of both.

Franco became very angry launched into a monologue ignorant because they have exists in the world. Frequent visits are seen by

at this point in the conversation and about how the San Fiorese in Italy are never travelled and have no idea what both the emigrants and the townspeople

as proof of financial success. At the same time, frequent visits are inter-

preted by townspeople as evidence of the emigrant’s desire to return to live in San Fior. Townspeople attest to the cultural superiority of Italy by referring to the regular visits emigrants make. This interpretation of return visits places the emigrants in a double bind. If they do not visit they cannot fulfil their obligations to family, nor can they maintain their cultural identity. When they do visit, however, their visit is seen as proof that life is better in Italy. Franco, more than any other person I spoke to, feels trapped by these conflicting interpretations: There are still many ignorant people. In Italy now they say that America is there and not in Australia. They want to discredit Australia now.

Once,

when

they

were

in need,

they

said,

‘Australia

is a

paradise, they all make a lot of money, they have everything’. They would say, ‘Look at Franco who has come out many times’. Now when I visit they tell me ‘See, you want to stay here’.

The whole family returned in 1974, eleven years after their first visit together. The long time between visits was due to the fact that the children were at school. This stage in the family life cycle precluded travel. In an added display of wealth and achievement the family also visited North America and several capital cities in Europe. After 1974, as their children became increasingly independent, Franco and Maria visited more frequently. The next time was in 1980. They have visited at least every second year since then. Franco and Maria always stay at Maria’ uncle’s home. Unlike other emigrants, finding a place to stay is not an issue for Franco and Maria because Maria was promised one in her uncle’s will:

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Visits Home

They get offended if we don’t stay with them because they treat me like a daughter. The inheritance went to my brother and he is now boss of the shop. I came to Australia and they knew I was all right here so they left everything to him. They didn’t leave anything to me and I don’t have any problem with that. But my uncle told my brother, ‘Look, when Maria and Franco visit, there must always be a

place for them in the house’. In fact, my brother always says to me, ‘Look, here is your place’.

It is not uncommon for migrants to forgo their inheritance rights, usually in compensation for their diminished role in the care of ageing parents.* Despite the open invitation to stay at her brother's, Maria and Franco say they would prefer to be in their own private place where they do not have to be treated like guests. Since their daughter, Clare,

settled in Vittorio Veneto in 1990, they stay with her. Clare, their only daughter, visited San Fior in 1980 with her parents and from that time on has spent more of her life in Italy than in Australia. In 1983, she entered a partnership in a German ice-cream parlour and became a seasonal migrant. In 1990, she married and settled in Vittorio Veneto. Although her family is considering migrating to Australia, they have not done so. The fact that Clare is living in Italy adds to the tension between Franco and Maria over where to live. Many of the Australian San Fiorese commented that having a child marry in Italy is a sure way of strengthening one’s contact with Italy. Both Franco and Maria would, however, prefer Clare to live in the same country as them.

It is ironic that it is Francos daughter who migrated to Italy. Clare’s brothers, Michael and Julian, live in Perth. Maria is not happy living in Australia but she does not want to leave because of her sons. Her ideal, like Piero’, is to spend half the year here and half there.

Because Ettore Botteon left San Fior against his parents’ wishes, he

has made an effort from the beginning to assuage their fears. As noted earlier, Ettore’s father’s first cousin, Lodovico, had returned negative

reports about Australia and had attempted to dissuade Ettore from

emigrating. Ettore emigrated before Franco Zamin’s famous return trip

in 1948. He worked conscientiously at keeping in touch with his family and, so as not to worry them, or appear as though he had made the wrong choice, Ettore never explained how hard it was in Australia: After a bit, | began to send them photos. I bought a little cinecamera and sent some films. Then I got married and I had children and I sent films so they could see that my children were well .. . If we had the telephone at that time and the commodities of today, we could have kept our parents happier—more in touch—instead it always depended on letters.°

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The most important way of maintaining links, and reconciling his

parents to his unsupported departure, was through return visits. Ettore and his wife, Adele (née Zamin), made their first return visit in 1962

and lived for seven months with Ettore’s parents:

I think my parents accepted the fact that 1 was happy here and that I had decided to remain here. You must also remember that I was one of the first who from here, left to go to Italy with the children to pay a visit to my parents. And without doubt that helped my parents to accept, because we went at the time they were celebrating their golden wedding anniversary and I took my children and they realised that we were already living a different life. They were sad to see that the children were already grown and that we lived so far away, but their hearts were put at peace to see that we were happy and that we were doing well.

Ettore’s first return visit with his family was clearly interpreted by his kin as proof of his successful sistemazione. Ettore’s description of his parents’ realisation that he was ‘living a different life’ is significant. It points to the rift in consociate experience and therefore in cultural experience.

The return visit was an occasion for the emigrant to compare life in the two places and decide where they should establish themselves. Ettore and Adele considered the possibility of remaining in San Fior but decided against it: ‘My parents tried everything to get us to stay there, but even after fourteen years it was still not possible to set up there. Financially, to stay there 1 wanted to be independent. I already owned my house in Perth’. The importance of being one’s own boss was fundamental to Ettore’s decision about where to settle. While in Italy, Ettore and Adele’s sons attended the local school. Ettore explained that they ‘stood out a bit’: they were dressed differently, they could only speak the dialect and people might have seen them as ‘a bit poveri’ (poor). But Ettore believes that the townspeople were also a little envious, ‘because as soon as we arrived I bought a car, a Ventura, and we travelled here and there, even to Switzerland, to France and to

Yugoslavia’. Like Franco, Ettore saw his car as a symbol of his successful migration. It is part of the clear juxtaposition he makes between economic and cultural superiority. He could afford a car despite the fact that the townspeople thought his children were ‘poveri’. The reference to being poveri is a reference to behaviour, dress and language ability. The Australian children cut a poor figura as San Fiorese. Ettore and his brother, Luis, who had repatriated from Western Australia a few years before, bought a television set for their parents as

a wedding anniversary gift. With characteristic wit, Ettore clarified the

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way the townspeople interpreted his gift: ‘I think we gave them the

impression, either that in Australia we were doing well, or that we

found our money under a stone’. The symbolic competition continued with planned renovations to the paternal house. Ettore had wanted to build a modern bathroom onto his parents’ house. He explained that his children were used to bathing daily, but in Italy this meant boiling water and using a lot of wood, which people saw as wasteful: ‘The children would come home from school and want to have a bath, so | began to build a bathroom. My father came out the day he heard my hammering and said, “No, no, you'll ruin the wine”, and on and on.

It's a long story. Anyway I let it go’. Another important indication of financial superiority for Ettore is

the number of visits he and his family have made to Italy: ‘They know

that the emigrants are well off because of the number of return visits we make. They are surprised to learn that the fare alone costs over $2000’. When

I asked them how

many return visits they had made,

Adele laughed as she told me with great pride, ‘Oh I stopped counting’; then she said ‘—in ten years we returned eight times’. This was not strictly accurate, though they had visited eight times between 1980 and 1992. Their second trip was in 1970, for Ettore’s father’s funeral. They stayed three months. Adele and one son, Pete, visited for three months in 1973 because Adele’s mother was ill. In 1975, both Ettore

and Adele made another three-month visit, ostensibly to attend a nephew’s wedding. In 1979, Adele went to Italy with her other son, Simon, and his wife and children. Since

1980, when

the last of their

parents died, they have stayed in hotels rather than with relatives. Ettore’s brother, Luis, who is a repatriated Australian emigrant, was offended by his brothers decision to stay in hotels rather than with

him, but, as Ettore and Adele explained

to me, they wanted

their

independence. Living in someone else’s house inevitably means being sotto them. Staying independently means that the emigrant is no longer a visitor but an inhabitant. Ettore, Adele and I had a long discussion about why they visit so often. As I have said, this question always amused people because to them the answer was obvious and yet impossible to explain. Adele’s cryptic response was: ‘They call it the homesickness—nostalgia’. Ettore admonished his wife and explained to me that their trips home were well-earned holidays: “We have always worked hard, but every now and then you need to rest. I think that rather than waiting too long and working until you end up getting sick ... After a rest you feel better, stronger and you return to your work more happily’. Although Ettore describes his visits to Italy as holidays, he and Adele never take holidays anywhere else. They have travelled to England and other

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countries in Europe but only as part of their visits to San Fior. For Ettore, visits ‘home’ are a cultural and spiritual renewal. He took great pride in explaining that he fought for Italy and has never forgotten his patria. In addition, Ettore felt there was much to learn from the Italians who were world leaders in many fields. Their visits always include

some work for their business.®

After offering all these specific reasons for his return visits, which

underlie

his attachment

to place, Ettore

concluded

with a response

that was similar to the one his wife had given me initially: ‘I like to hear the Italians speaking, hear them arguing. I love to hear the bells ringing. I love to see the mountains, our mountains, many things that are difficult to describe in four and four is eight’. In order to explain this sense of nostalgia, Ettore described another Italian emigrant family’s experience:

Someone from San Fior told me that they made a video of the town and sent it to some relatives in New South Wales. When they saw the video they began to cry, because it was a long time since they had seen their town. I told them, I don’t cry any more, but tell these

people to town, go mean, if town, it’s they have

take out the money and go and see the bell-tower of their and hear the bells in person and they will get used to it. I they started to cry because they heard the bells of their because it’s been many years since they left and the money never spent, that’s why they've forgotten [what the bells

sound like].

Ettore’s reference to the call of the bell acknowledges that the individual’s sense of campanilismo can be registered through simple sight and sound, as distinct from formally visiting relatives and friends. Ettore’s description suggests that one does not need to have relatives in the town to continue to feel an attachment with it and a need to visit it. Adele was of the opinion that, even after a year, one can be nostalgic

enough about the home town to cry at the thought of the bells ringing. Both agree that there is a need to return. Although they both said that they return to Australia happily, neither could imagine giving up their visits ‘home’. Ettore cannot understand people who do not visit and

suggests they have a bad conscience: ‘I cannot comprehend, I cannot

imagine that someone

who left their town when

they were sixteen,

eighteen, twenty-five years old, never wants to see their town, or their relatives. There must be some profound reason but they probably wouldn’t say what it was’. Ettore was very sensitive to the tensions between emigrants and townspeople and, as a consequence, he has attempted to fulfil all his family obligations. His and Adele’s visit history reveals their dutiful

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attendance at funerals, weddings and other important occasions. In addition, Ettore has been a member of an amateur radio association for

many years and he speaks to other members in Italy almost daily:

Fortunately, through the radio I have made many friends, young and old. I am sure that I am accepted ... Instead, some when they go there, it seems the people as soon as they arrive begin to attack them with

criticism

and

they

want

to defend

Australia,

to show

that

Australia is big, the best thing ... They show off. That's why some people tell me that they don’t want to go to Italy any more. Instead, me, even when I have three legs [the third being a walking stick] if I can go, | will always go.

Ettore talked openly about the rivalry that exists between the San Fiorese in Italy and the emigrants in Australia. He introduced the topic himself by referring to emigrants in Australia who have asked him what his impressions are of the way townspeople in San Fior view the

Australians who continually visit:

They ask me because they come to know that certain people go to Italy and begin to say that we in Australia have everything. They are always talking about dollars, always with the word dollars in their mouth.

And the Italians, jealous, because even they need dollars,

they are of the same blood as us, they listen, they keep quiet, but they get tired of hearing talk about dollars, dollars, just as we get tired of hearing talk about lire. And then we in Australia have everything more beautiful, bigger and then it gets to the point where

the Italians can't keep quiet any longer and they say, ‘If in Australia you are so well off, why do you come to Italy for holidays, why do you come

here?’, and he shuts his mouth

and is hurt, and so they

begin to fight. I know people who fight about this every time they visit. Instead of opening a door, they close one. Instead, I have people asking me when I’m coming to visit next.

The tensions between visitor and visited are nowhere more apparent than in deciding on a place to stay. Townspeople feel obliged to lodge their visiting relatives, especially in cases like Maria Zamin

inheritance has not been divided to include the emigrant. It is tant for emigrants not to offend their relatives by refusing their tality, but, at the same time, they do not want to be a burden. importantly, the visitors want independence, the liberty to do

where

imporhospiJust as as they

please, eat what and when they like, without the continual scrutiny of

others.

From

his very

first visit, Ettore

realised that there were

many

differences in the way of life between the two countries and that his

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229

family could not simply ‘fit back into’ town life. He spoke openly about the problem of where to stay: Now we have resolved a problem in a way which I think is the best solution because after many years, it isn’t like when you first left home, when you went to your parents’ house, where they still had

the salami hanging up, the same salami that I left there, still hanging from the string. Now they have their own families and if you go, you go for one or two days in someone else’s house, but after you must pay, you must contribute, because you're eating from theirs. And us Australians have the defect of using a lot of electricity, a lot of water, telephone and they are more economical than us. So it’s better to go out on your own. So we bought an apartment.

After their parents died, Ettore and Adele would stay in the vacant apartment beneath Luis’ house.’ It seemed like the perfect set up—Luis did not want to rent out the apartment and he was more than happy for Ettore and his family to use it. In fact he was angry when they decided to buy an apartment of their own. Ettore explained: ‘But we need to be independent, besides we have children who are already married, with Australian daughters-in-law. They can’t go into other people’s houses where there is another style of living. So, he [Luis] understood and we go and visit him often just the same’. Of course, owning an apartment means the migrant will always have a place in the town regardless of whether or not relatives and friends are still living there. An apartment also ensures a place in the town for one’s children. Ettore and Adele were torn on the question of whether they would prefer to live in San Fior. Adele responded: Many times I think it would be better to live in Italy .. . Because, today for example, we are here with much unemployment, and business in Australia is not going very well. Over there you could be better off, and when you are there you realise that it would pay to live there if it wasn’t for the family. It isn’t because we are set up here, it’s because of the family.

The painful position of being caught between obligations to one’s paternal home and obligations to one’s children is the experience of every San Fiorese who has settled in Australia. The resulting tension over where to live and which place is better reveals clearly that individuals can leave their parents but they cannot leave their children. Clare Zamin left her parents but her parents cannot leave their sons in Australia. Giacomo and Lidia Bottan made their first visit to Italy in 1962. Giacomo had not seen his home town since his departure, twelve years

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previously. The principal motive for the trip was a reunion in San Fior with his brother, who had settled in Venezuela in 1949. They stayed in San Fior for eight months, dividing their time between their respective

families. Giacomo bought a small secondhand car, a Fiat 128, and they

travelled to Spain, France, Germany, Switzerland and what was then Yugoslavia. Giacomo had left Italy with many debts and had incurred even more in Australia when his friends lent him the money needed to bring his wife and children over. Given the drastic circumstances of his departure

and the attendant financial problems, Giacomo and Lidia felt a great

sense of satisfaction when they were able to visit San Fior. They could not afford to take their children with them and there was never any talk of repatriating as at that time such a step was not economically viable. Giacomo recalled: ‘I left full of debt and I returned with money in my pocket and I could afford a visit to my brothers, to my town. When I had nothing and I left I cried to leave my house, my four

children and my wife, I was ashamed. Instead, when I returned, I was proud because I had achieved something’. Giacomo visited a second time in 1976. This time he went with one of his daughter's, Nadia,

and her husband

and

their sons. This visit

lasted about five months. Giacomo had applied for the pension in Australia, but was told he had too many assets and was advised to ‘eat some money’, so he decided to accompany his daughter and her family on a visit. They stayed with Giacomo’s brother. In 1978, Giacomo, Lidia

and another of their daughters, Alessia, visited for five months. Lidia

had-wanted to go to see her ailing parents before they died. Alessia was planning her own trip and she encouraged her parents to go with her. When Giacomo’ relatives were informed of the intended visit, they set

about finding a place for his family to stay. Giacomo’ brothers knew of

a vacant house in San Fior and they asked the owner if they could use it. His brothers did not have room in their houses to put them all up. In addition, Giacomo said he preferred to be ‘on his own’ so as not to disturb others and so as not to be disturbed by others. Lidia subsequently visited San Fior on her own for each of her parents’ funerals. The only other place Giacomo has visited is Queensland, where he and Lidia travelled in 1984 to meet their paesani who live there. They spent most of their time in Home Hill visiting Angelo Santolo. Lidia died unexpectedly in 1987 and in 1989 Alessia again encouraged her father to visit San Fior with her. They attended the wedding of Giacomo’s nephew in San Fior and only stayed for three weeks, long enough for Alessia to buy an apartment. Giacomo explained that on her 1988 visit to San Fior, Alessia, who was travelling with her sister-

in-law, Silvia, and their daughters, had stayed with Alessia widowed

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231

sister-in-law, Caterina Benato. Living with Caterina had been difficult because she cooked for her daughter and son-in-law and the Australian visitors were made

to feel that they were in the way.

In addition,

Caterina did not do any shopping and used the stores Alessia bought. They decided to buy an apartment in Conegliano to ensure they would not be disturbed by their relatives. Giacomo described how useful the apartment is and how many paesani in Perth had already stayed in it. In 1992, Giacomo, Alessia and Linda visited Italy together and lived in

the apartment for several months. According to Giacomo, the townspeople see his emigration to Australia as a sacrifice that paid off because his family has been able to

visit several times. Visits are, for Giacomo, indicators of financial success. At the same time, however, Giacomo maintains that the towns-

people ‘think there is nothing in Australia’. In 1964, Giacomo paid for his widowed sister to visit. He is disappointed that she did not become an ‘ambassador’ for Australia. All he hears from the Italians is that Australia is a land of ‘snakes and kangaroos’. Giacomo is proud of the fact that many of his grandchildren have visited Italy. All of Giacomo’s children have visited Italy with the exception of his son, Don. It saddens Giacomo that Don has never returned to Italy, and he has offered to pay for Don’s trip many times. Giacomo explained that relatives and friends in Italy frequently ask after Don. He finds Don’ failure to return difficult to explain and hard to accept but suspects that underlying Don’s resistance to visit San Fior is his shyness and his fear that he no longer knows anyone there. Giacomo is certain that Don would only visit with someone who could reintroduce him to his former friends and acquaintances. I asked Giacomo if he thought Don would mind talking to me. Giacomo thought an interview might encourage Don to make a visit and mentioned the idea to Don's wife, Silvia, who was also enthusiastic. Silvia and Don live in the house beneath Giacomo’ large apartment, in the Italian style. Silvia was always happy for me to visit and speak with her father-in-law. She told my mother, whom she knew through Laguna, that after Giacomo had spoken to me he was more at ease and in good spirits. Silvia explained to me that Don is a very introverted person and she hoped that talking about things would be as good for him as it seemed to be for Giacomo. After three months, Don agreed to be interviewed and I met him at his house on a morning when Silvia was at work. Giacomo was upstairs in his house and he waved and

winked at me as I arrived, encouraging me. Don greeted me at the door, invited me in and offered me some refreshments, which I politely refused. I knew from experience that many male interviewees were awkward about preparing refreshments because it was a task normally

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performed by their wives. We sat down at the kitchen table. I asked Don the usual introductory questions about birthplace and date. I

asked him about his wife’s family’s emigration hoping that this would

break the ice a little. Don told me that Silvia’s family came to Australia as refugees. They were originally from Fiume, near the border of the former Yugoslavia. They had lived in refugee camps in Germany, Naples and Genoa before coming to Australia. As I had hoped, the discussion about his wife's migration history led Don into a discussion of his own. Don explained that he had been

‘taken away’ from San Fior at thirteen, ‘a difficult age’. He had been

learning a trade at the time and was not happy about having to depart. Don remembers San Fior as he left it, ‘very poor’. He did not want to leave and his early experience of Australia was ‘very hard’. During the course of our conversation Don became very open about his character and his shyness. He maintains that his sensitive age on departure caused him to become timid and unconfident. Don explained that he left all his friends in Italy and because of the work he did in Australia, he never had the opportunity to make friends his own age. He only began to feel settled when he began his own sistemazione upon his marriage to Silvia. lasked Don to describe how he felt about San Fior as he was growing up in Australia. Don fell silent and looked pensive. He asked me who else I had interviewed and I listed everyone I could remember talking to. When I mentioned Piero Santolo, Don interrupted saying: ‘I remember

Piero, when

I came

to Australia 1 worked

for his father.

“Eh”, he said, “Italy!” For him it was negative, he called us “Dings”.

Now he has changed. I was like him, I was neither hot nor cold about

the place’. As a young man, Don identified himself as neither Italian nor as Australian. He was sensitive to the ‘Ding’ label the Australians gave him and yet he was young enough to be considered an Australian. Growing up in Australia had been a painful experience. Don spoke honestly about his fear of returning to San Fior. He has always put off visiting: ‘And the more time that passes the harder it becomes

to return’. He

felt self-conscious and embarrassed,

but was

unable to explain why. Don described himself as timid and for this reason he would go to Italy only with his wife or some relatives. He would never go alone. Despite his failure to visit, Don is happy for his family to visit. He knew that I had met Silvia and Alessia and their daughters there in 1988 and he told me how much the girls had enjoyed our day trip to Switzerland. Don admitted that his desire to visit was increasing because so many of his townspeople had done so. Renso Benato and Alessia, Giacomo Bottan'’s daughter, got married in Perth in 1956. |initially interviewed them separately but after Renso’s

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233

interview Alessia joined us and we talked some things over together. They made their first visit to San Fior in 1963. Renso left earlier than originally planned due to his father’s poor health, but, tragically, his father died the day before he arrived. Alessia arrived a month later. They stayed for a total of seven months. During that first visit Renso said he considered returning there to live because of the considerable changes in the economic state of the region: ‘I was thinking when the first time in 1963, I see the big change, big change, not a shock but somebody want to show you they got the car, whereas before they got the push bike’. Alessia did not want to live in San Fior because she had all her family in Australia: ‘The first time we went back, Renso wanted to stay, but I put him off. He really wanted to go back. I had my mum and dad here and sisters and so I said, “No, it's going to be too hard”.

Renso for a while wanted to go back, but then he settled down’. Renso did not attribute his decision to return to Australia to Alessia’s influence but rather to the fact that he considered himself ‘better off’ in Australia: I already seven years in business, already have the control, already a little bit strong. I didn’t mind to stay there, not that I prefer but I want a place, I want to be sure, something I can make my living from. I don’t want to sell everything out here and make a mistake.

Many made it. It can be a mistake, it’s a very big risk. Renso told me that his brother, Ennio, and his brother’s wife, Nella,

returned to Italy for a holiday and then decided to remain: ‘They, like everyone, had always wanted to return’. Renso did not comment on the

fact that his brother,

Alessandro,

was

buried

in San

Fior

even

though his wife and family live in Perth. Renso and Alessia do not regret their decision to settle in Australia and they are proud of their financial achievements. They have made frequent visits to San Fior since 1980. Renso explained: Visiting San Fior is the best money I can spend

... Because it’s a

lovely place, it reminds me of when I was young. Reminds me of Conegliano when I was begging for a dollar in the streets, the bakery where I used to go when I was hungry asking if he give me a bit of bread. Now we own an apartment only one kilometre away [laughs].

The cost of all their visits runs into thousands of dollars. Their apartment costs them several thousand dollars a year just in heating and rates. Renso relives his transformation from beggar to prosperous emigrant every time he visits San Fior. Visits are for Renso an important

indication of his successful emigration: ‘I think we in Australia show

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that we are better off than the one that went to America, the one in

Argentina, and some in Canada, very few coming out [that is, very few of these emigrants make visits]’. Alessia and Renso recounted their impressive ‘visit history’ with pride. Because of their still-thriving business, they could seldom make visits together. One of them has to remain to oversee the business. Alessia took their three children to San Fior in 1968 during the school holidays. In 1973, they left their business in the hands of Alessia’

brother, Don, and the whole family visited for five months. They also travelled to America for three weeks to see other relatives. In 1978,

Alessia took her parents. In 1980, Renso took his two sons for three months. In 1985, Renso visited San Fior with his niece for a brothers

funeral, they also attended a relative’s wedding. In 1986, Alessia went on a European tour with her sister-in-law, Silvia, and their two daughters. Silvia had wanted to visit her sick mother, who died two days after they arrived. In 1987, Renso and Alessia visited San Fior for six weeks; Renso’s mother died while they were there. In 1988, Alessia

and Silvia again travelled to Italy with their daughters as well as one of Alessia’s sisters. In 1989,

Alessia and her father attended a relative’s

wedding and bought the apartment. In 1990, Renso and Alessia visited for six weeks and attended Renso’s brother's funeral. In 1992, Alessia’s daughter Linda toured Europe and Alessia and her father, Giacomo, met up with her in Italy where they stayed in their Conegliano apartment. Alessia explained that she is drawn to San Fior because it is her birthplace: ‘When I go to San Fior it’s like going home; always tears when I get to Venice airport. It's where you were born, your First Holy Communion, where your parents were born’. Alessia explained that her visits have to be at least two months long because it takes that long

to visit all her relatives. She is very close to her mother’ five sisters, all of whom live in San Fior. Renso has six sisters; only one, Caterina, lives in San Fior. The other five live in Piedmont, having married

Piedmontese men. Once they have retired, Alessia and Renso plan to spend part of each year in their apartment in Conegliano. I asked them if they would like to move to San Fior permanently. Alessia responded without hesitation, saying: ‘I couldn't live there, with my children here. If I

didn’t have the kids, maybe I would prefer to live there’. Later in our conversation, Alessia reflected on her visits to San Fior. Despite the

problems they had experienced while staying with Caterina, Alessia maintains that she always feels welcomed: ‘They can never do enough for you, especially the relations. Sometimes you’ve got to go out twice

a day, once for lunch and once for dinner. That's why you put on so

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235

much weight’. Alessia has, however, noted a change in the reception she receives from people. She describes the first times as being ‘more of a celebration’: Now the townspeople are more used to the frequent visits and tend not to make such a fuss over visitors. Plus the new generation, they don’t even take notice. They’re more used to you. They don’t remember who you are or were. Earlier on we were more obvious because they compare and see Australia is better. When you think of migration now, no way, they’ve got America there now.

Alessia spoke of being hurt by the negative attitude the townspeople

have towards Australia. Like all informants, she too lamented the fact that the San Fiorese in Italy think that there is nothing in Australia but ‘snakes and kangaroos’: They have quite a negative view, that’s why they don’t bother coming. Most of the time they don’t want to know anything. Truly they really don’t, they do ask you, “Have you got wine in Australia?” Or, when you say that you have persimmons and chestnuts, they just don’t believe you. They don’t want to know. That's the problem, whether it’s Toronto, Argentina... They mainly know about the emigrants to Germany

who

make ice-cream because they do six months

and six months in Italy.

there

Renso is also sensitive to the rivalry between the emigrants and the townspeople and, like Ettore Botteon and Piero Santolo, he is careful

not to show

off about his financial successes:

‘I have

always been

received well... So many times I’ve been there and I’ve been showing

the same things, no different to 1963 or 1993, Renso is always the

same. I don’t flash around’. While on the one hand, many emigrants engage in what I have described as ‘symbolic competition’ in order to prove that their migration was successful, on the other, to be accepted in San Fior, the emigrant must not ‘show off’ too much. When his mother was alive, Renso and his family stayed with her. After she died they stayed with Renso’s widowed sister, Caterina. Giacomo Bottan, Alessia’s father, had already described the tensions that developed during Alessia’s 1987 visit which culminated in their decision to buy an apartment. Alessia did not detail her experience on

that visit except to say: ‘Most of us when we go out, we usually go to the relations, sister, brother, and they feel obliged to put you up for a while. I think they get a bit tired. It’s like fish in the fridge: if you keep it too long, it begins to smell’. Renso explained why he decided to buy the apartment, an explanation that reveals his continuing attachment to place and his need to have a home in San Fior:

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I want to be independent. My sister is getting a bit old. If my sister pass away, the house belongs to her daughter. Why shouldn’t I have something? I could build there. I got a block of land in San Fior to build if 1 want to but it’s a bit costly. I bought it in 1963. I went to the funeral, we kept all together, then after one year we paid out all my sisters off the land and the piece of house then we divided in 1980 with my brother. I wanted the house of my mother, but my brother he wouldn’t let me so I said: “Look, you can use it anytime

you want it, but I only want it when I come out I want to use it”. But he wouldn't let me. He got it, but in its place he gave me a piece of land alongside mine.

Alessia believes she has passed on her desire to visit to her children. Each of their three children has visited San Fior at least twice, once with

the whole family and once subsequently either on their own or with a friend. Renso is very happy with the apartment because his children use it: I'm maybe more happy than them when they go, because they're Italian. Do you understand what I mean? Although they born here, they’re Italian. I want to show them that Italy, where I lived. Is very few countries can go close to it’. According to Renso, the visits made by his children are important because they made them more Italian: They get away from [the likelihood] to be against [being identified] to be Italian . . . Even the language because maybe we were too busy with work and too easy for me to explain in English than say in Italian and repeat two or three times, it’s too hard. My children they going again after Christmas. I like this, that’s my best money, I offer to pay the fares and everything. That’s my best money, because I want them there. I’m proud of my kids, to show my kids and show my relatives my kids grow up, my kids with the family. Renso’s mother, Carla Zamin, visited Australia with her sister Grazia in 1978.

Renso’s widowed

sister, Caterina, visited in 1984

sister, Flora visited in 1991.

and another

Paolo Camerin and his wife, Rita, both emigrated in the early 1950s

with the intention of returning to settle in San Fior. Paolo described their migration as a money-making venture: ‘In the meantime you thought about making money, to better yourself, and then you marry, and start a family, and eventually you find you can’t return. You begin to establish yourself. 1 began my own business’. Paolo and Rita took their three sons with

them

on

their first visit to San

Fior in

1969,

sixteen years after emigrating to Australia. They both laughed about how strange everything seemed on their first visit. Rita remembers that ‘everything was small and compact’.

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237

Both Paolo and Rita recall noticing what they described as ‘the progress’ in San Fior compared to la miseria they had left. On their first visit, which lasted five months, Paolo considered repatriating but Rita

was against it because life in Australia offered her more freedom: ‘I saw

that the families were not united like they were here. The men were still independent, he was the boss .. . In 1969 the woman was under the man’s thumb, she was really sotto and I didn’t like that’. The comparison between levels of freedom in Australia and San Fior was referred to by many of the informants, particularly women. According to Paolo, they decided to return to Perth because he had already established himself in business and they thought ‘things were better in Australia’. Like Ettore, Paolo and Rita refer to their visits as ‘well-earned holidays’ but would never consider taking a holiday in any other place: ‘After sixteen years of working every day it’s time to see the place where you been born’. Their visits are cultural renewals. Rita described the excitement of their arrival: ‘It was like a reunion’. After the initial excitement of the reunion subsided, however, they found the differ-

ences between the two places were great. Paolo and Rita compared

many aspects of life and the outcome of each comparison proved to be in Australia’s favour. Like other informants, the Camerin’s most significant gauge of living standards was the state of the bathroom: They never had a bath, nor a flush with Matthew because he didn’t want passed, another day passed and he said, ‘Matthew but you have to go to there, you

squat’.

grandmother, the house and in the system in storage. of the hole and so

toilet. We had a lot of trouble to go to the toilet... One day always had a stomachache. I the toilet?’ ‘Yes Mum’. ‘Well go

But he said that it was a hole, not a

toilet. His

year before, had put a flush toilet in her sister's winter the pipes had cracked and they'd put the So she went and got this toilet and put in on top finally Matthew sat down.

Flush toilets, like cars and televisions, were Australian migrants’ proof of economic superiority. In addition, Rita and Paolo talked about their sons in a way that promoted the ‘Australian way of life’. Much was made of their outdoor, robust, fearless Australian boys and the impression they made that first trip. Rita described her sons as deeply suntanned and contrasted them with the overdressed, sun-starved San Fiorese. Ugo, the eldest, wanted to go swimming in the brook, which was something no one ever did in San Fior. He excitedly asked his newly made local friends to accompany him and was surprised when they all refused, saying he was crazy and that he had better ask his mother first. Ugo went

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swimming despite the locals’ reactions and his mother is sure they have never forgotten. Paolo remembers that they called the children

Americans: ‘they were different’ and the differences were nowhere more

obvious than in dress. Paolo’s sons were used to running barefoot while the Italians took pride in always wearing shoes. There are many lifestyle differences between the two places which Rita still finds she must justify to her relatives today. Some differences, according to Rita, are impossible to explain ‘because Italians are Italians’. When Rita told her relatives that her unmarried sons live on their own they were shocked: ‘They said, “Oh but you wash and iron and cook for them”, “No”, I said. “They don’t want me to.” They made

me feel bad. They made me feel as though I were a cold mother, that I

didn’t do my Paolo and their adopted scribed these

duty as a mother’. Rita told several stories which showed them promoting homeland in the face of negative attitudes. Paolo deattitudes as ignorance:

In 1969 a friend asked me a lot of things, what I did, what I didn’t

do. He asked me if we had this and that. He was in the construction business like me. He asked me if we had cranes and I said to him that we did everything by hand. Then he asked me if we had trains, I told him we only had wheelbarrows. Later I told him the truth, I said, ‘But what do you want to know about trains for when you’ve

never seen one? We have road trains in Australia that you and your Italia could never imagine’. Those who have never travelled think that Italy is the only place in the world.

Rita had a lot to say about the townspeople’s preoccupation with

dress and bella figura, which she calls ‘their sickness’. She believes the

differences in style of dress between the two places diminishes every year—to the point that on recent visits, in the 1990s, Rita had actually been complimented on her ‘Australian’ dresses. She recalled that on their first visit they went out and bought clothes because they were made to feel under-dressed: ‘It was immediately apparent that we were not from there, from our dress’.

Paolo told of his experience on his second visit in 1973, when he attended a classe dinner. The dinner was held in a restaurant in Conegliano and a doctor was present who had moved to San Fior after Paolo had emigrated. They were introduced and the doctor was told that Paolo came from Australia: ‘The doctor said he knew I must come from l’America. He knew this because I had a tie on that was different to the Italians. He knew I came from l’America because of my tie! He said to me, “I can tell by your tie, that you’re not from here”. Paolo was still surprised by the doctor's response and he insisted on hunting

The Rhetoric of Return

out the classe photo in which than those of his companions. townspeople that Australia is instances of one-upmanship dinner each year in October, always tries to attend it.

239

he was wearing the tie, which was wider The out-of-fashion tie is evidence to the culturally poor. Paolo does not let these upset him. In fact, as his classe holds a Paolo, if he is planning on visiting Italy,

Their visit to San Fior in 1973 had been an impromptu one inspired

by the ill-health of Rita’s mother. They stayed for a total of three months. On their way to Australia they visited relatives in Canada and the USA. Paolo’s mother asked him to visit in 1979 because she wanted to settle the inheritance. Paolo did not go because he was working on the new Laguna clubhouse at the time. His mother died unexpectedly that year and Rita and Paolo both attended her funeral and stayed for ten weeks.

In 1981, they visited for four months and included a tour of France. In

1986, they visited Italy then Canada but had to return to Italy for the funeral of a nephew. They then travelled to Argentina to visit a brother. They visited San Fior again in 1990, when they stayed for twelve weeks. Apart from being the ‘satisfaction of their lives’, visits to San Fior are an important indication of their successful emigration: ‘Our relatives

say, “We see you live well there because you often come out to visit”. Rita has a brother in Argentina who was unable to visit Italy until Rita and her other siblings decided to pay for his fare in 1990. Rita’s relatives in Canada allegedly visit more often than the Australians because Canada is only an eight-hour flight away (as opposed to the twenty-four hours it takes from Australia) and the fare is considerably cheaper. Paolo has a brother in Switzerland who visits at least once a year: ‘but it’s only four hours by car, if anything happens he can go straight away’. With regard to standard of living, Rita and Paolo maintain that the visit that impressed them the most was the one in 1990: ‘I saw Italy was really on top of the world. They have a lot of work, especially in the Veneto where we come from. They have money like we do here’.

The obvious affluence of the Veneto in recent years has made promoting

Australia even more difficult. Rita confided that her relatives in Italy ‘think we're a bit stupid to stay here’. Paolo agreed and explained that their relatives see Australia as a foreign country, while he considers Australia to be his home: They think that Italy is the only place in the world ... Many who have never moved from there say, ‘But don’t you intend to return, to

settle here?’ We look at them in surprise and say, ‘But what do you think? Our family is there, all our work, everything we've achieved,

is there. How can we transport everything?’ . .. Then everything has changed there, it’s another way of life.

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Although they have the means, Paolo and Rita are not going to move to San Fior because they fear it would be too hard to resettle. Paolo said they could easily afford to spend half a year in each place but Rita contested this, saying that they could not leave the house, their children and their grandson. Paolo is one of the very few migrants in Australia who has received visits from San Fiorese relatives. Paolo’s brother visited Perth for four weeks in 1977 after having made a business trip to Japan and Hong Kong. Paolo’s widowed sister visited in 1985 for her nephew's wedding. Another sister and her husband visited in 1989. Paolo explained that, even though these visitors all have a positive impression of Australia, when the two countries are compared economically, Italy comes out ‘on top’: ‘Australia doesn’t produce like Italy, which has a million factories that make everything. Here we only have grain and wool, which we send to Italy to produce. They say, “What have you got there?” They cannot imagine’.

After their parents’ deaths, Rita and Paolo began to stay with Paolo’s widowed sister. Paolo and Rita considered buying an apartment in 1986, but decided it would be too costly. Instead, Paolo gave his share of his inheritance to his widowed sister on the understanding that he and his children could stay with her on their visits. Paolo wanted to go to San Fior in 1991, only a year after their last trip, but Rita said she found it too difficult to leave the family even though they were all grown up. Paolo said he would definitely visit again, with or without Rita. I asked Rita if she would accompany him: ‘I have to go with him’, she replied. ‘How can I let him go alone? I married him to be with him. I cannot send him to his sister for her to look after him, I’d feel

bad.’ When I asked her about people who visit alone she explained that this only occurred when people had, ‘something to do—a funeral or business’.

Two of their sons have visited San Fior on their own as adults. Alfio,

the youngest, went in 1983. He backpacked around Europe for four months with three other Italian-Australians—a Veneto and two southerners. They visited each other’ ‘home town’. Rita recalled with dismay that, ‘He looked like a Gypsy’. He also shocked his relatives. Again, Rita drew a comparison between Australian men, who are not concerned with how

they look, and ‘well-dressed’ Italian men,

who

are

over-concerned with their appearance: ‘Italians with hair like Alfio would stay in front of the mirror half an hour, but not him. He never combed his hair’. Rita compared her sons to her nephew, who always

took at least an hour in the bathroom, reiterating her view that Italians

suffered from the ‘sickness’ of bella figura.

Ugo, the eldest son, has visited San Fior on his own twice, in 1984

for two months and in 1989 for ten weeks. I met him briefly during

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241

his second visit, which was mainly a skiing trip. Rita and Paolo had wanted to pay for their third son, Matthew, to visit San Fior in 1978, as a graduation gift. Matthew, however, preferred to travel around Aus-

tralia. Matthew married shortly afterwards (his wife is a Veneto-

Australian) and now has a child. Although his parents say Matthew would love to visit Italy with his wife, to date his only visit is still the one in 1969 with the family. Paolo and Rita seem to think that the fact that Matthew married a Veneto-Australian ensures that one day he will visit Italy. Guido Zamin returned to San Fior in 1969 for his brother's funeral and then again in 1971 for his fathers funeral. In 1978, Guido, his wife Corina and their youngest son, Mark, visited San Fior for four

months as part of their world tour. Guido and Corina did not visit San Fior again for just over ten years but in this intervening period they

received several visitors in Perth. In 1972, Guido’ mother Grazia and her sister Carla (Renso Benato’s mother) visited for four months. In

1982 and 1984, Grazia visited again for two months each time.

Guido and Corina have made fewer visits to San Fior than most

other San Fiorese. However,

they have received more visits from kin

than most other migrants. Guido has helped finance his mother’s relatively frequent visits, which began after her husband died. In 1988, Guido and Corina visited San Fior with their eldest son, Danny, for two

months.

It was

on

this visit that I met

them.

In

1991,

Guido

visited for six months and Corina joined him for the last two months. Corina explained that Guido had intended to stay a whole year in San Fior: ‘Guido’s been sick last year and we thought he needed a holiday. He wanted to see his mother and his family. He actually had the idea that he was going to stay there for a year. In his mind he thought he could live there’. Guido nodded sadly and said, ‘But after two weeks I wanted to come back’. Apart from missing his wife, Guido explained that everything was different and he felt spaesato. Guido and Corina were together with Rico and Tina Tonos when we talked. After Guido spoke about his sense of being out of place, a long discussion followed about whether or not any of them could now settle in San Fior. Corina and Tina were of the opinion that it would be too difficult. Their primary reason was that their families are settled in Australia. In addition, they talked about the lack of freedom women have in San Fior compared to their own experience in Australia. Like Rita Camerin, Corina and Tina’s sons have moved out of home and live

on their own. They discussed the fact that single men leaving home to live in shared housing is uncommon in San Fior and that it is seen negatively by the people there. Guido was fairly quiet during this discussion. Rico, however, argued

with the two women, contending that he could easily return to San

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Fior to live: ‘I got adapted here when I came here. Why can’t I get adapted back in the normal life over there?’ Tina and Corina countered

with a number

of criticisms about the town, including the lack of

privacy and the perceived class differences. In the end, even Rico agreed

that he would not, after all, be able to live in San Fior. They all decided

they could live in nearby Conegliano, which was described as ‘more like a city’. Corina explained that it was important for them to visit San Fior despite the tensions that existed between themselves and the townspeople: ‘Its where you were born, and your roots are always there, even though you are transplanted’. Corina’s metaphor about roots which are ‘always there’ despite being ‘transplanted’ reflects the unenviable situation of the emigrants, who wish to be in two places at once. Corina and Guido always stay with Guido’s mother, Grazia, and the

house has been left to them in her will. I first interviewed Corina and her son Danny together in San Fior at Grazia’s house in 1988. Danny

had been amazed at how everyone in the town knew who he was despite the fact that he knew no one. Corina then told us about an incident that had happened a few days earlier. She and Guido were preparing to go to a neighbouring town to visit the sister-in-law of her sister, Sofia. On the way they stopped in the square in San Fior to buy some cakes to take with them: The woman who served me said ‘I know who you are. You’ve come from Australia to meet your cousin here’. See, I was supposed to meet the son of a cousin of mine who went to Argentina and died there. I had never met this son and he was in Italy visiting from Argentina. And I met him in the square and nobody told me it was him. Can you believe it? .. . He was in the middle of the square and I said to Guido, ‘It’s him, it’s him! and Guido said, ‘You’re mad! But

I made him stop the car and Guido was angry because he thought I must be mistaken. I went up to the young man and said ‘Are you Scopel?’ and he said ‘Yes’. ‘Massimo?’, I said and he said, ‘Yes!’ He

looked so much like his father.

What surprised Corina more than the fact that she recognised

Massimo despite not having met him before was that the woman in the

cake shop, whom

Corina

did not know,

knew

about her intended

meeting with her cousin. San Fior is a meeting place for family mem-

bers who are dispersed throughout the world. Often, emigrants in different parts of the world organise reunions in San Fior. The migrants describe San Fior as a place which lacks privacy, where everyone knows everyone else and their business. While these characteristics are described as negative and migrants often say they prefer life in Australia because they have more freedom and privacy here, it is exactly these characteristics that give San Fior its central status.

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243

When I interviewed him, Rico Tonos had just returned from a visit to Italy and his wife, Tina, described him as ‘feeling particularly antiAustralia’. Rico had emigrated with the intention of returning: ‘I was sending money back with the intention of going back. Then of course I found a girlfriend and I got caught. And that was the end of it’. Tina explained that she was not interested in living in Italy; she had all her family in Australia. The couple did attempt a repatriation on their first visit together in 1972. They took their children and rented an apartment in San Vendemiano, which neighbours San Fior. They lived there for six months. They also visited Tina’s relatives in Valtellina. Rico had already made two visits on his own before this attempted repatriation. The first was for two months in 1966, to see his ailing father. Then he returned again in 1971 for his fathers funeral and stayed one month. Rico explained that he ‘got a shock’ on that second visit to San Fior. He did not expect to find the living standards and job prospects in the province as good as they were. It was this experience that inspired him to attempt to repatriate with his family the following year. Rico found there was ‘much of a muchness’ between Perth and San Fior. Because of his family’s financial position, he had the same possibilities in both places: ‘I don’t know whether you were better off here or over there, because if you were over there you go to work and keep the money for yourself, like we did here. You were still in the same position as far as I’m concerned’. Rico and Tina did not visit Italy again until 1980. They dedicated the intervening eight years to bringing up their children. Rico was inspired to visit San Fior in 1980 after he had a life-threatening accident. When they were describing the accident, Corina interjected:

‘He thought he was dead and then he said, “I'd better go over”. They stayed for a month. In 1982, Rico and Tina received a brief ten-day visit from Rico’s brothers, Emanuele

and Giuliano, during the latter's

business trip. Giuliano owns a very successful business in Conegliano, selling his merchandise throughout Europe. In 1982, Giuliano decided to try to break into the Asian market and, while he was in Singapore,

he decided to visit his brother, Rico, in Perth. Rico has eight siblings in

San Fior; he is the only member of the family who lives abroad. Tina explained that when they visit: ‘It's always a big reunion. All the brothers and sisters come together’. Rico maintains that he does not feel ‘settled’ in Australia despite his very successful sistemazione. Many factors contribute to his ‘unsettled’ state. He did not have to emigrate because he was in paid employment at the time of his departure. He emigrated against the wishes of his family. The fact that he came to Australia on a government-assisted passage and was not ‘called’ by a relative or townsman as part of the San Fiorese cluster migration to Australia meant that he was not part

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of the community of reference which many of his townspeople describe as supportive and significant in their ‘settling-in’ process. Rico rarely goes to Laguna and cuts himself off from his paesani in Perth. Rico’s brother, Giuliano, is a highly successful businessman in San Fior. Giuliano has employed Rico's eldest son, John, on a number of occasions over the past five years. John is undecided about where he

would like to establish himself. Rico is envious of his brother's fortune

and of the opportunities Giuliano has offered his son. John’s desire to work in San Fior is an example of the migration process in reverse, ironically still influenced by economic factors. Migration from San Fior to Perth for the 1950s emigrants was an avenue for them to seek their fortunes. The opportunities offered to John by his uncle illustrates that today the reverse is also true. Rico and Tina are similar to Franco and Maria Zamin in that they have children who may settle in San Fior. For Rico and Franco, in particular, having their children settle in San Fior undermines their belief in the success of their migrations. John and Cathy’ potential sistemazione in Italy implies, at worst, that their parents have not been able to provide for them in Australia or, at best, that Italy is a better place to live. Either interpretation reflects badly on the Australian migrant. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that Rico and Franco are very sensitive

to the way

their townspeople

view Australia.

Rico

confided that his family still has a negative impression of Australia: ‘I think they have the impression that nothing can be as good as things over there. Nowhere. And Australia is just non-existent’. In the townspeople’s eyes, Rico and Franco's emigrations are failures despite each man’s considerable economic success. Franco tends to fight this by being pro-Australia. He finds visits a trial because: ‘They are one big argument, all the time, arguments’. Rico, in contrast, accepts the view of his townspeople in Italy and rejects Australia: ‘I would go tomorrow again. I just came back yesterday, but I would go again tomorrow’. Like many informants, Tina and Rico’ ideal would be to spend some time each year in Italy. Even though Rico wants to live in San Fior, he is still sensitive to the rivalry and competition between the migrants and the townspeople.

According to John, the most difficult affront to his father’s pride

occurred when his brother Giuliano visited in 1982. Apart from only staying ten days (a significant display of wealth given that most people say that a visit to Australia is only worth the money if you remain a month at the very least), Giuliano did not even stay in Rico's house but, I was told, rented ‘the most expensive suite’ in one of Perth's luxurious hotels, situated on the beach front. When Rico and Tina visit San Fior, Giuliano provides them with an apartment rent-free.

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245

Rico and Tina’ most recent visits have coincided with their son's sojourns in San Fior. They visited in 1987 for a month and then again in 1989 for another month. In 1991, they visited for three months during which time they met up with Corina and Guido Zamin. On each of these occasions, John has been in San Fior working for

Giuliano. Rico and Tina’s daughter, Lidia, and son-in-law, Bruce, visited San Fior in 1987 and stayed with Rico and Tina in the apartment

provided for them by Giuliano. Rico’s youngest son, Nick, has not visited San Fior since he was a child but he intends to. Rico explained that Giuliano is forever asking: ‘When will you send Nico to me?’ Rico presented a number of contradictory views on San Fior. Although he argued with his wife and Corina that he would have no trouble returning to live in San Fior (despite Guido’ recent experience of not being able to), he later admitted that emigrants no longer have a place in the town: “We leave from here and go there and they can't fit in with us, and we can't fit in with them . . . You can’t get in the same way as they do’.

Establishing Consociate and Popular Identities Arensberg and Kimball, in their study, Family and Community in Ireland, observed: If the child must leave the farm for other walks of life, the closest

possible relationship is still maintained. When one goes home, it is to see one’s mother. There is always an attempt to carry on a correspondence. In exile, the bond lingers as a profound sentimental

nostalgia.®

In the San Fiorese case, far more than a ‘profound sentimental nostalgia’ characterises the lingering bond between the migrant and homeland. The visit experiences of the San Fiorese living in Perth reveal not only the importance of ties to family and the bond between mother and

child, but also the significance of attachment to place, to the sounds,

smells and sights of the home town. The migrant visits not only to reestablish family ties and so develop a consociate identity, but also to renew cultural ties and so develop an ethnic identity. The migrant’s visit itinerary is thus a combination of time spent with family and townspeople and time spent visiting popular sights and acquiring ‘Italian’ wares. While their parents are alive, the migrant will always stay with them during their return visit. No matter how long they have been away, or how far they have travelled, the migrants’ place in the parental home is

never lost. Ettore returned to his parents’ house to find the salami still

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hanging from the roof just as it had been when he had left it on his departure fourteen years earlier. The visits of the 1960s and 1970s were made by migrants with their young children. The visitors generally spent their time living in San Fior with the migrants’ parents. The focus of the trip was to become reacquainted with relatives and townspeople and for the children to get to know their kin, especially their grandparents. While their parents are alive the migrant is assured of a place in the town. Once the migrant’s parents die, however, the migrant’s place in the town becomes problematic in that it can no longer be taken for granted but must be constructed. As has been shown, the fracturing effect of migration has meant that family ties are invariably fraught with tensions and jealousies so that, once the parents have died, the

migrant often prefers to find a place to stay independent of siblings. Staying with relatives, as Alessia explained, is ‘like fish in the fridge: if you keep it too long, it begins to smell’. The migrants are sensitive to the lifestyle differences between themselves and their relatives living in San Fior. It is easier for all concerned if the migrants find their own abode.

Some

migrants,

like Maria

Zamin

and

Paolo

Camerin,

forgo

their inheritance in exchange for a place to stay. In these instances, the

migrants ‘pay’ their way, so to speak, in order that their residence with

relatives will be less likely to cause tensions. A number of San Fiorese migrants in Perth have purchased apartments in the nearby city centre of Conegliano. Apartments are, however, very costly and Italian tenancy laws make it impractical to rent them out during those times when the migrant is in Perth.° The apartment is a tangible and undeniable symbol of a successful sistemazione. Migrants who own an apartment are transformed from visitors to residents; they

have their own place. A busy schedule of visits is maintained and dinners are shared with one’s kin, friends and classe. Living in Conegliano does not preclude the migrant from visiting San Fior daily, but why don't they buy their apartments in San Fior? Individuals told me that they preferred the privacy of urban life to the scrutiny of the close-knit town. The urban pace of Conegliano suited their lifestyle better. San Fior thus becomes a shrine to be visited and revered, while Conegliano becomes a symbol of the migrants’ italianita. The visits undertaken by migrants in more recent times are characterised by a shorter stay with relatives in San Fior. As Alessia’s visit history makes clear, it is mandatory to visit all of one’s relatives, which, depending on the size of the family, can take weeks. Invitations to dine are seldom refused. Family reunions are organised, and sometimes, as in Rico's case, a family mass is organised. Once the family duty has been done, however, and all kin have been visited, the visiting migrants

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find themselves with time on their hands. While the locals go about their normal work routines, the visitors begin the tourist circuit. Cars are borrowed or hired, tours are booked, and the migrants begin to travel. Sightseeing excursions within Italy and travel to other parts of the world are increasingly becoming a part of the visitors’ itinerary. Many migrants take the time to visit the relatives of their friends in Australia,

even if this means travelling to another province or region. During the

early visits, travel and sightseeing were not common pastimes in San

Fior. Indeed, many migrants told me that they have relatives in Treviso who have never been to Venice (only 50 kilometres away). Visits to famous tourist sights are very popular among the second generation who tend to make very brief visits to San Fior during a busy travel schedule. Besides travelling to famous and popular tourist sights, the migrant visitors do a large amount of shopping. Purchasing Italian products, particularly clothes and leather goods, is an important part of the visit. Clothes are an important marker of ethnic identity in both the home

and host country.!° While visiting and sharing meals with family is

about the development of consociate identity, sightseeing and shopping is important to the construction of popular cultural identity. Migrants visit not only to maintain contact with kin, but also for reasons to do with the construction of their ethnic identity and sense of campanilismo. Rather than reporting on their day-to-day activities during visits to San Fior, informants showed me postcards and photographs of their sightseeing ventures. The fact that migrants did not describe their activities in San Fior is an indicator of familiarity. The migrants find nothing remarkable in San Fior except for the changes that have occurred. What people did talk about with reference to their visits were their family tensions and jealousies and the conflicting views of Australia. What people described were the contending discourses on the migration process. The visit itineraries suggest a clear rift between the migrants and their townspeople who stayed behind. Even while in Italy, the migrants maintain a separate and bounded identity in relation to their kin and friends who did not migrate. The apparent disunity between migrant and townsperson does not, however, undermine the migrant’s identity as San Fiorese. Rather, it reinforces it.

The collective identity symbolised by the idea of San Fior derives both from external boundaries vis-a-vis other places, and from internal divisions and rivalries. San Fior’s integrity and vitality partly derive from its internal divisions, such as that between the priest and the youth displayed in the festa of the Madonna. Similarly, the rivalry

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between the migrants to Australia and the townspeople who continue to live in San Fior is not necessarily the source of disaffection and fragmentation it would appear to be at first sight, but can actually be a source of unity. In the continuing arguments between migrants and townspeople about the best place to live and which place has the more cultured and more affluent lifestyle, the very competition most often serves to reinforce the central importance of sistemazione and of attachment to place. Of course, sometimes the tensions give rise to animosity, and people refuse to visit home. The division between San Fiorese migrants in Australia and San Fiorese in Italy is, in part at least, simply one of the many divisions that exist within San Fior. These various divisions and rivalries can be interpreted as a principle of organisation central to the continued

construction of a vital and relevant campanilismo; that is, as part of the

ongoing process of being San Fiorese. The division between the two communities maintains their respective symbolic boundaries. Many San Fiorese in Australia define themselves and their successors in relation to the San Fiorese in Italy. They are able to compare themselves through their return visits. Their visits are thus a way of reasserting their identity as a distinct group. The rivalry ensures that each group can define itself in relation to the other while together they represent part of a collectivity. Internal friction does not necessarily mean disunity and fragmentation. It can give rise to collective identity. All relationships involve a collective dynamic, such as that between staff and students or the two partners in a marriage. As long as the San Fiorese in Australia define themselves primarily in relation to the idea of San Fior, then San Fior

will continue to be their primary source of identification. If, on the other hand, their principal rivalry is with some other group then their focus of attention is drawn away from San Fior. Some second genera-

tion Italians in Perth, for example, define themselves with reference to

mainstream Australia and not their parents’ native towns. The San Fiorese who stayed behind have a hegemonic position in relation to the visiting migrants from Australia. The migrants, in part, defer to the view that Italy, and thus San Fior, is the superior place by,

for example, buying Italian clothes and wares. The migrants also counter this view by subscribing to an alternative value system. The clash between the two value systems is expressed most clearly in the representations of the repatriates. The second generation, in contrast, con-

struct their own, generation-specific, value system and campanilismo.

8 Second Generation Visitors In the 1930s, a recently arrived immigrant, whose husband

had already been living a long time in the US, sent her

small daughter to Italy to be raised by her mother and father. Her husband strongly objected to this, but twelve

years later, when his daughter returned, he was pleased

with the way she had been educated into the values of the domus and he doubted if this could have been so well accomplished had the girl grown up in this country.!

During my eighteen-month stay in San Fior I met several Australianborn visitors. I rarely had to organise a meeting with these travellers because,

more

often than not, they were

directed

to me

by their

relatives. After all, I was the resident Australian. These young people were keen to share their experiences of San Fior with a fellow Australian and we developed an immediate camaraderie. The Australian-born visitors I interviewed range in age from fifteen to forty.? Most of them made their first visit to Italy with their parents in the 1960s and 1970s,

as small children. Many have subsequently made visits on their own or

intend to.

Transformations and Investments Ettore and Adele Botteon’s son, Simon, was born in Perth in 1951, one

of the first children born in Australia to Simon briefly in San Fior in 1989 when Before I left in October that year, 1 was deliver to him from one of his friends in

San Fiorese parents. I had met he dropped in to visit Grazia. given a video and a book to San Fior.

Simon was very keen to be interviewed and invited me to his home

in Kalamunda. After being introduced to Simon's wife, Dorothy, and their three children, Martin (fifteen), Rachel (fourteen) and Michelle

(ten), I was offered a glass of wine brought back from Simon’ last visit

to San Fior. I discovered during the interview that food was an important cultural marker for the Botteon family. Simon described the roast

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beef and vegetables that Dorothy served us as ‘a traditional Australian meal’. Simon is a committee member of the Trevisani association (ATM) in Perth and he explained that, what he and his children liked most about the association, was the ‘traditional peasant food’ that was served

at functions. ‘My wife’, he explained, ‘was born in Australia to English parents and does not do too much Italian cooking’. Simon’s description of the ‘peasant food’ so central to the ATM functions depicts a belief in unchanging traditions. Simon's disinterest in what he calls ‘the bocce-mad’ Laguna members shows that he does not identify with the current life experience of the emigrant and indicates a generational difference. As a second generation emigrant, obviously influenced by the popular definition of ‘traditions’, Simon believes emigrant clubs should provide traditional fare. The cards and bocce of Laguna are somehow too profane for Simon, as tradition to him is somehow ‘sacred’: ‘That is the function of the Trevisani: to continue the traditions of the times gone past’.

Di Leonardo, in The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, notes that ‘food is

often heavily freighted with ethnic symbolism. The of Italian foods can therefore be seen as consummate one’s connection with them is to claim an ethnic claims his italianita with reference to what he calls be Italian, according to Simon,

Italian purveyors ethnics. To prove identity’. Simon ‘peasant food’. To

requires a regressive movement

reclaim those ways of being that have been lost to the past:

to

1 like the idea of continuing some of the old ways. The ways the old people used to do things. The way they used to cook the food, the lack of finesse in serving it. Just plonk it down. Go back fifty years, mother, in those days, didn’t sit there and set out the broccoli facing the right way, and make sure that each bean was running up and down, she just plonked it on. And even with the Trevisani, I'd love it

if they got even rougher. Like the polenta: instead of serving it on a plate, put it on a big wooden board with a string and cut it that way, but when you're serving three hundred people you can't.

The ‘mother’ of ‘fifty years ago’, who lacks ‘finesse’ when serving broccoli and beans, is an image far removed from the pellagra-infested Veneto. Simon is describing the popular image of the Italian peasant woman, a mythical image which has gained currency in the current

‘ethnicity industry’.*

Over dinner Simon and Dorothy asked me a number of questions about my stay in Italy and I was amazed at how much they knew about me. The children were invited to stay and to my surprise preferred to participate in the interview than watch television. I was interested

in finding out what

Australian-born

San Fiorese

knew

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about their parents’ migration, so I began by asking Simon why his parents came to Australia: ‘My mother migrated because my father was here and he migrated because, getting back after the war, there was nothing for him. The jobs were hard to come by. The family was large, I don’t know whether Grandfather could support them all while they got themselves on their feet’. Simon knew about his father’s desire to emigrate to South Africa and was quite sure that his emigration to Australia had not been a dire necessity but rather an opportunity to better himself: He made the decision to come here, not because he was forced to

make it. I think he could have stayed there if he'd wanted to. I get the impression that he just wanted something better, something more ... It must have been hard ... 1 think they lived from basically hand to mouth . . . But I think the choice was there, he could have stayed. He might have been in the same boat as I have been with my father, not that you don’t get along with him, but if you're too much alike, you can never please them, so that you think: ‘I’ve got to get out of this and do it by myself’.

Dorothy knew a great deal about her father-in-law’s history and suggested that Ettore’s time away from his family during the war had made him independent and thus it was more difficult for him to settle back into life in San Fior: ‘There you've got your little tiny plots and every one is married to the next one, you know everybody around you and you know what everybody’ doing and who's seeing who’. The discussion very quickly became a critique of life in Italy compared to life in Australia. Simon,

Dorothy

and

their children

have

visited

San

Fior several

times between them and they are certain they will go on more visits in the future. Both Simon and Dorothy were very conscious of what they described as ‘the lack of support’ Ettore’s family had offered him in his migration. The fact that no one from the Botteon family had ever visited Ettore in Australia was evidence of this. The youngest of Ettore’s many brothers, Luis, had emigrated to Western Australia and repatriated, and to this day he was the only one they felt ‘really cares’ about Ettore and his family in Australia. As Simon said: He'd do anything for us. Like, I go over there and I've got no choice, I must go and see him regularly. He’s on the phone or his wife’s on the phone:—‘Where are you? Why haven't you been?’ ‘Look I was only there two days ago.’ ‘Yes, but you know Luis, what he’s like, he wants to see you.’ It’s as if I’m a son that he’s left here, I get the feeling sometimes that I’m like another son to him.

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Dorothy explained that when they visit San Fior, Luis ‘feels responsible’ for and ‘looks after’ them, particularly Dorothy who speaks little

Italian. Simon and Dorothy commented on the difference between the

repatriates’ view of Australia and that of the townspeople who had never been to Australia. The repatriates were considered ‘more interested’ in visitors and ‘much less negative’ about Australia. Simon and Dorothy also referred to the gossip and lack of privacy in San Fior, which both of them believed contributed to Ettore’s desire to emigrate. Dorothy said: ‘Everybody would hear what you're thinking’. Simon added: They used to call it ‘radio San Fior’. Everybody knows each other, everybody knows what's happened down the road. The number of times that I've gone, I’ve just driven through San Fior, and yet I'm told two days later that, ‘You came past why didn’t you come in?’ Now maybe it was because the car I had was bright in colour [laughs], but the fact is they are really, even today, very close. It's a community, the priest, everybody knows everyone else, they seem to thrive on knowing other people's business all the time, whereas we come here and all of a sudden it becomes taboo: what's your business is your business.

I asked Simon if he consciously taught his children about Italy and Rachel answered that he constantly encouraged them to learn the language. Dorothy added that the best way to teach them was to ‘show them, to take them out there and experience it’. 1 asked Simon to detail his ‘visit history’. The first time Simon visited was in 1962. Simon was eleven, and

his whole family visited because it was his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. Simon explained that ‘there was an expectation’ that his father attend. ‘In addition’, Dorothy added, ‘Ettore was suffering

from poor health and his doctor suggested he take a holiday’. When | asked Simon why he thought his parents took their children with them, he replied: ‘Because I think he wanted us to know the other half, how the other half of the family lived. And also to show his parents his

children. First of all it’s for them, and secondly for us, for his children,

so that we can see that there is another part of the world’. Simon said he had taken his own family to visit San Fior for the same reasons. In fact, Simon believes he acquired his ‘desire to visit San Fior’ from his

parents.

Simon's clearest memory of his first visit to San Fior was of the bathroom. The lack of modern facilities was commented on by several visiting migrants and their children, such as Rita Camerin. Simon recounted that it was a:

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shocking experience, it was revolting. As an eleven year old it was the pits ... This sticks in my mind completely, the place was like a cesspit. Plumbing, whatever plumbing there was it was the messiest bloody thing. It was running down, coming out of the wall of the house, this pipe was oozing out garbage. And the toilets, as an eleven year old it was a killer, I couldn’ . . . I hated the place, not the lack

of them but the type of toilets! The

next time Simon visited San Fior was in 1970, ‘before getting

married’; he was nineteen years of age. Simon described this visit as one he was forced to make because he was ‘getting too serious about my non-Catholic, non-Italian girlfriend’, namely Dorothy: 1 was sent back because she kept hanging around ... partly I think it was because I'd failed my university year, and I'd failed it because I wasn’t studying. I was probably wasting too much time with my wife ... They sent me back to make me wake up, to straighten me

out, I was supposed to have gone to school there, but I ended up working for my uncle in his business.

An oft-heard chide made by parents to their children is a request that they sveglia fuori (literally, wake up; figuratively, sort themselves out). Martin translated the command as ‘to realise what is right and good and be responsible enough to carry this out’. For example, when my own cousin wanted to spend a lot of money on a sports car he was chided by his parents to sveglia fuori (wake up) and to accept that such an action would be an irresponsible waste of money. A young man

should be thinking of saving for his future sistemazione. A young

woman I knew who was thought to be spending too much time with her boyfriend, and not enough time on her studies, was chided in the same manner. If the children fail to heed their parents’ warnings then more drastic steps may be taken. In my cousin's case, his father withheld the finance necessary to buy the car. In the case of the young woman, her boyfriend’ parents were notified of the situation and asked to deal with their son accordingly. When

Simon failed to end his relationship with Dorothy, his father

decided the best thing to do was to send him to San Fior. This points to another important function of the home town. A sojourn in the natal town teaches children the right way to be.° Simon was considering marrying a non-Italian woman, so his father apparently thought he needed to be ‘woken up’. In my former study of Italo-Australian youth, I found that young southern Italian women were threatened with excommunication for dishonourable behaviour (for example, pregnancy

outside of ‘serious’ relationships). Yet in the one case I knew of, where

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dishonour occurred, quite the opposite took place. The woman in question was ‘sent back’ to her relatives in Italy. Endogamy is important to the maintenance of community. Many of the pre-war emigrants waited over a decade to be able to return home to ‘find a wife’; others married by proxy. Although there were demographic factors that contributed to the need to find wives back home, there were also very strong cultural reasons. ‘Mixed’ marriages were perceived as threatening group solidarity. By the time Simon was ready to marry, there was no shortage of women in Perth and yet his parents were keen for him to marry a San Fiorese or at least a northern Italian. Simon's relationship with Dorothy began in the late 1960s when he was a relatively young age compared to that at which the emigrants had married. At this time, the vast majority of San Fiorese were marrying other San Fiorese or other northern Italian women, but none had married non-ltalians. Simon's interest in Dorothy was, therefore, unexpected. Simon, as one of the eldest Australian-born ‘San Fiorese’, would be one of the first to marry. He was undoubtably expected to set a good example, particularly for his younger cousins, and being the

first paesano to marry a non-Italian was not the example his parents

wanted of him. Ettore’s decision to ‘send’ his son to Italy was at first met with resistance from Simon: ‘I went voluntarily in the end. I probably could have stayed [in Australia] but it would have been a hard battle; it would have made things difficult. It was easier to go and hope everything would quieten down’. Simon was ‘sent back’ to ‘make up his mind . . to wake up, to realise that there’s more than one fish in the sea’. With some humour, Dorothy clarified Simon's generalisations by adding: ‘to find some nice Italian Catholic girl over there’. Simon agreed, admitting that his father had wanted him to marry an Italian. At this point, wide-eyed Martin interjected: ‘I know Nonno is a hard man, but he’s

not a bastard’, to which his father replied, good naturedly, ‘Your grandfather was a bastard, Martin’, making everyone laugh heartily. Simon continued: I think the whole idea was for me to get together with my cousins. I found that it was okay messing about with them. I quite enjoyed it, we had a good time. I stayed for four months at the most. I managed to come back but I wasn’t meant to come back that soon. I was meant to come back years afterwards, if at all. 1 came back because

there was no way I could go to school there.

Simon's ‘trip back’ did have some of the effects Ettore had wanted it to,

but did not produce the hoped for outcome. Simon did ‘make up his mind’ and returned to Perth determined to marry Dorothy. Not surpris-

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ingly, Dorothy recalled that Ettore was not happy with Simon’ decision: ‘They still didn’t accept it, not at first. It’s taken a long time. The first ten years of marriage have softened them ... I did the right thing, I produced a son first off—“the woman can’t be that bad, Simon”. Although Simon's trip back to San Fior did not result in his finding an Italian girlfriend, from his parents’ point of view, it still made Simon ‘more Italian’. During his stay in San Fior, Simon developed bonds with his relatives that strengthened his ties with Italy. Despite the fact that he ended up marrying a non-ltalian, Simon underwent a personal (identity) transformation and was culturally renewed. In addition, Dorothy has learnt how to be a ‘good Italian wife’, the importance of which Dorothy accepts with good humour. Although Simon and Dorothy have obviously come to terms with the objections posed by Simon's parents, gaining Ettore’s acceptance

has been a struggle. Simon's marriage to a non-Italian was perceived by Ettore as threatening his son’s ethnic and cultural identity. Simon has had to prove his commitment to his family in other ways. He entered into a business partnership with his father soon after Martin’s birth: ‘That helped a lot’. Dorothy, too, had to prove her worthiness: and was right in expecting her son's birth to have helped in her relationship with her parents-in-law. 1 remember that when I had commented to Giacomo that I was one of the few who had married a non-ltalian, he had said: ‘The Sartor and the Galet boys and most of the others, they married Italians because they can’t speak Italian’. Giacomo was acknowledging that I had proven my italianita in my actions and that my marrying a non-ltalian did not jeopardise my ethnicity. There are instances of second generation emigrant youth who are said to have become ‘less Italian’ because of their marriage to non-Italians. Maria Zamin differentiated between her sons’ individual ethnic identities, reflected in their attendance at

Laguna, with reference to who they married:

It's many years that we are members. They have dinners at Laguna. I made Michael a member. Clare made Julian a member but Julian,

with the excuse that he married an Australian . . . It's a shame because he was the type that everyone loved. They still do, but he is more withdrawn now. He is more with the English, more to his wife's side. Instead Michael, he always goes and enjoys himself. . . eating polenta and whatever they prepare. His wife's mother is Italian and her father is Slav, they all speak Italian very well.

Simon was in a similar position and he proved his italianita by his

involvement in the Trevisani association and by maintaining close ties

with his relatives in San Fior:

_ It is clear

the develope married

. This

a

is a

me made by minitmnsup

eer children is

ioranelt zo idendty. Simon gssccrztion ATM) and he

Sciousiv tries to foster

ime Simen took his Lote. Because Dorothy 7 ext that with two very rbance to their

\

ortant enough

to be

cid not taxe ofanence at this treatment r point of view. Dorothy had had similar experiences with 1 family in Australia. When she first met Simons relatives in Perth no one spoke English to her and she was surprised when

Simon told her later that some of them were fluent

English speakers. The whole family visited San Fior again in 1988. this time with three children. They had wanted to go earlier but an unplanned pregnancy meant they had had to postpone their return. In the intervening nine years, Simons parents had made several visits to San Fior, every eighteen

months or so. Ettore had bought land in San Vendemiano, a town that

neighbours San Fior, and had an apartment built. Simon and his family

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257

were the first to stay in it. Simon reflected on his fathers purchase of the apartment: ‘I know he’s bought the place over there, the whole idea is: “This is for my kids, for you to have. For my grandchildren to go backwards and forwards.” That's his mentality. For him it’ all part and parcel of encouraging the family to be part of the whole system’. Ettore confirmed these claims, when he explained that it is important to maintain strong contacts and relations between Italy and Australia: ‘We need each other, so we must

keep the contacts, otherwise our

children will lose them. Without close ties they will become more and more distanced’. Ettore thinks it is ‘a big shame’ that some children don’t know their relatives in Italy. He is extremely proud that his children and grandchildren are familiar with San Fior: With the excuse that I go there, with the excuse of the apartment,

my children go there. They take not only their children but also their wives, and the grandchildren; already our grandchildren know the province of Treviso, they know San Fior almost as well as I do. I see that as an investment, not the apartment—that’ a different type of investment—but the money spent on our children going to Italy and their children is an investment. If tomorrow I die, I won't die

rich—but not hungry either—but I won't leave a lot of riches to my children. I believe that I have left the road, the knowledge, with my

children, that they know Italy well and they know their relatives well and you never know who may one day be in need . . . They are free to go there because they know their relatives, they are accepted. This, in my opinion, is an investment, not just from a business point

of view, but morally, to keep the ties strong.

Visits made by youth are about gaining knowledge, getting to know relatives, and maintaining kinship ties. Ettore, like Alessia Benato, feels it is his responsibility to pass on to his children and grandchildren ‘the way’ to Italy: One day I was speaking with my grandson

[Martin] and I asked

him. I wanted to see how the thread would unwind. I said, ‘I decide

that we going to sell the flat in Italy’. And he say, ‘Why, Nonno?’ And I said, ‘What

for? We

buy a beautiful

Mercedes’.

‘Oh

no, Nonno,

don’t sell the flat’, he say. That's it, see, I got the message

that |

wanted to, he didn’t realise what he was saying, he said what he was thinking, but I got what I want from him. Because normally, if it was another boy that had never been to Italy he would have said, ‘Oh

yes, Nonno, buy a Mercedes’. See, instead he would sacrifice the Mercedes for the flat because he knows he can go over there, because

he knows the people there.

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The fact that emigrants prefer to buy an apartment to stay in when in San Fior, even when there are other places they could stay, is a key to

understanding their campanilismo. Apartments represent the migrants’

form of sistemazione in Italy. Living on their own gives them the special status of insider/outsider. As owners of apartments they become residents rather than visitors. At the same time, however, the apartment allows

them to conduct their lives in their own Italo-Australian fashion. They can take their non-Italian spouses and in-laws without ‘disturbing’ or, equally importantly, being disturbed. Visits to Italy change youth by making them ‘more Italian’. Ettore explained: ‘They begin to eat Italian even in their own homes. They become interested in the language. They learn things without even realising, the traditional songs, the Italian way’. Dorothy believes that

the visit to Italy changed her children: ‘It broadened their outlook on life. Its made them realise that there are places other than Perth. I think it’s also given them something to strive for in their own lives, to achieve

more’.

Simon,

echoing his father’s view, described

Italy as a

type of insurance for his children: ‘Let's assume that things go bad here. We want them to have the chance to attempt it over there. And if you're lucky enough that you can actually work here for six months of the year and go over there for the other six months of the year, do it’. Despite the scant regard Dorothy experienced from many of her inlaws during her visits to San Fior, she was very positive about the reception her husband had received: ‘That somebody is delighted to see you even if they haven't seen you

for ten years. They're quite

delighted to see you and for no other reason than the fact that they have some common bond which is family, some connection’. Simon explained that his interest in his ancestry developed from the visit he made on his own in 1970. In 1988, when he travelled with Dorothy and the children, they made a ‘pilgrimage’ to a little town in France from which his family supposedly originated: Apart from a heck of a lot of petrol and tyres, it was definitely, ‘We're getting there, we're going, we've heard about it, we’ve read about iv’. And all my cousins had said how they were going to do this, and I did it and they didn’t! When I went back I said I have to come twelve thousand miles to do this and you people live here, and I’ve done it. It was really something. We all went, I'll show you the photos.

When Simon explained that he visited San Fior on his own the following year, ‘for business reasons’, his family smirked and Dorothy winked at her children as she said, ‘Well, that was the excuse’.

Simon and Dorothy knew of few emigrants who had never visited

San Fior and were of the opinion that, besides finance, which dictated

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259

their own frequency of visits, people who don’t return— haven't developed the “pull”. Simon blamed the parents, explaining, as had Alessia Benato, that, ‘you develop the “pull” by being taken back’. The idea that parents ‘pass on’ the desire to return implies that it is inherited and handed down. Simon described his ‘ideal’ situation as one where

he could live in Italy for half of each year. Dorothy commented on

what she termed ‘the irony of visiting’, where the emigrants are seen by the townspeople as ‘fools who shouldn't have left’. She believes that the return visits must prove to the townspeople that the emigrants regret having left: ‘This “pull” that you have is working in their [the townspeople’s] favour, because you've still got to come back, so why did you go away?’ The fact that very few townspeople visit Australia adds to this sense of failure. Adele Botteon described Martin, her grandson, as ‘mad about Italy’. The evening I went to his parents’ house for dinner Martin had been told I might interview him and he dressed himself in his best Italian clothes, which he had bought in Italy the year before. I interviewed Martin alone before interviewing the whole family over dinner. Martin's first visit to San Fior was in 1979 when he was five years old. His second visit to Italy was in 1988 as a teenager. In 1990, he travelled to San Fior on his own and met up with his grandparents: When I was there . . . they had the sagra of San Fior for about four days. Every night I went down to have a look at it. I thought it was pretty good. It was the sort of thing that dealt not necessarily just for the older people in the area but it was for the whole range, everybody young to old. I thought it was really good. I met a lot of people who I didn’t even know I was related to.

Martin explained that while he was in Italy, he deliberately bought clothes that looked Italian because: ‘You can always tell Australians by the way they dress’. Dress markers are particularly important to Martin because he believes that physically he does not look Italian. While in Italy in 1990, Martin said he tried to ‘dress Italian’. Martin’s school friends make fun of his love of Italy and things Italian: People say I like it too much. I like the people live, the cars they drive, . .. There’s something over there, I like it. When I was over there last

it because of the snow, of the way the clothes they wear, everything don’t know what it is, but I really time, because my parents weren't

there I used to go out on the bike, because we’ve got a

flat there. I

used to ride around and learn the streets and see things and I used to really enjoy it, I don’t know what it is, it was just different from here.

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Martin knew a great deal about his grandparents’ emigration history, including the dates of their departure and who sponsored them. He felt sure that although they loved to visit San Fior, they would never settle there: ‘I don’t think they expected to remigrate back to Italy but I know from experience that they’ve been back lots of times’. Martin described his visits to Italy as learning experiences. He has a very different understanding of Italy to the one he would have had if he had never visited: If 1 hadn't been, I would have grown up with the sort of attitude that Italians are all short and fat with black hair. Just the fact that 1 have

been, I’ve seen people. I know that most Italians, especially from the north, most of them are tall and thin. Most of them have black hair,

but some have brown and blonde hair. I’ve seen that and I've been

able to contradict the stereotypes.

Martin's visits to Italy have increased his awareness of ethnic stereotypes and have developed his sense of ethnic identity. Martin, like his father, identifies being Italian with close family ties and ‘good’ food— the two things they believe differentiate them from other Australians: ‘Mum makes spaghetti sometimes but she won’t make polenta. She won't make things like baccala (dried cod) and fegato (liver). My grandmother, she makes it all the time so on the weekends I go down there to

eat’. Martin visited San Fior on his own again after his final high school exams in 1992 and his dream is to spend some time working in Italy. Michael is the second child born to Franco and Maria Zamin. Both Michael and his wife Sandra were born in Perth, Michael in 1955 and

Sandra in 1957. They were married in 1983. Sandra’s father was born in what was then Yugoslavia and her mother was born in Friuli. I first met Michael and Sandra in San Fior where they were visiting Michael's sister, Clare. They had spent a year in Europe, half of this time working

in the ice-cream parlour in Germany in which Clare was a partner, and

half living in Conegliano. Michael was very well informed about his

parents’ migration:

Dad migrated for the same reasons everybody else did, economic reasons .. . He could see better opportunities in Australia. The same

story was too, that they'd all emigrate for five or six years, work and go back with all the money they made. That was everyone’ intention. But you talk to most of them and more than 80 per cent prefer to stay in Australia now. There’s still a few who want to return but not

the majority.

Sandra was also very aware of her parents-in-law’s history and mentioned that the fact Franco’s father had died when Franco was very

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young had meant he’d had even fewer opportunities in Italy: no father’s job to inherit. Michael believes that his father came out to Australia at the ‘right time’: Those that came out before my dad, they came out with nothing, no money. But 99 per cent of those Italians who came in the ’fifties; you speak to them, they came to a ‘gold mine’. If you were willing to work, you worked hard but you made a fortune. Very different to what it was like in Italy. Now it's a bit reversed ... We're in the recession. In the last ten years, they've basically caught up with us. Either they've caught up or we’ve gone back.

Michael knew about the straccivendolo history of San Fior, something few Australian-born ‘San Fiorese’ had heard of. He could recount the

Gypsy-origin story and list all the sayings about thieves. The extended

time Michael and Sandra spent in Italy enabled them to learn more about the place than if they had visited for just a brief time. The fact that Michael’ sister, Clare, married and settled in Italy has meant that

Michael and Sandra have closer family ties in San Fior than any other

second generation migrants.

It was obvious from the young couple’s statements that they had considered living in Italy. Michael was able to quote to me the differences in cost of living and wages for his profession between Italy and Australia: ‘I love Italy . . . 'd love to go back and maybe work for two or three years, but .. . I also like my quarter-acre block, my little vegetable garden out the back; you can’t have that in Italy unless you’ve got plenty of money ... I'd have to buy an apartment there’. Michael compared the lifestyle of his uncle, who lives in Italy, to that of his father. Both men like to ‘plod around on their land’, but in Italy ‘people are always looking over the fence’. He described San Fior as closeknit and lacking in privacy, while Perth and Kalamunda were ‘more private and free’: ‘That's why my mum hates it here and loves it over there, because she likes to get out and talk to everybody. Whereas my dad, he likes to sit in his backyard and do his own thing’. Michael and Sandra had been surprised by the ‘gossipy nature’ of the small town. Michael described his uncle’s shop, Freschet’, as ‘the

centre of the community’. Situated between the piazza and the main road, the shop is rather hazardous to get to and yet the elderly, in particular, continue to frequent the shop. Both Michael and Sandra were ‘amazed’ at the ‘goings on’ in the shop. Michael said: Freschet’s would have been one of the first littke supermarkets in that area. Now they’ve got shops all over the place, but still the older folk will always come to that place because it becomes a ‘PR’ exercise.

They know that if they go there, my uncle and aunt will give them

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Martin knew a great deal about his grandparents’ emigration history, including the dates of their departure and who sponsored them. He felt sure that although they loved to visit San Fior, they would never settle there: ‘I don’t think they expected to remigrate back to Italy but I know from experience that they’ve been back lots of times’. Martin described his visits to Italy as learning experiences. He has a very different understanding of Italy to the one he would have had if he had never visited: If | hadn’t been, I would have grown up with the sort of attitude that Italians are all short and fat with black hair. Just the fact that 1 have

been, I’ve seen people. I know that most Italians, especially from the north, most of them are tall and thin. Most of them have black hair, but some have brown and blonde hair. I’ve seen that and I’ve been

able to contradict the stereotypes.

Martin's visits to Italy have increased his awareness of ethnic stereotypes and have developed his sense of ethnic identity. Martin, like his father, identifies being Italian with close family ties and ‘good’ food— the two things they believe differentiate them from other Australians: ‘Mum makes spaghetti sometimes but she won't make polenta. She won't make things like baccala (dried cod) and fegato (liver). My grandmother, she makes it all the time so on the weekends I go down there to eat’. Martin visited San Fior on his own again after his final high school exams in 1992 and his dream is to spend some time working in Italy. Michael is the second child born to Franco and Maria Zamin. Both Michael and his wife Sandra were born in Perth, Michael in 1955 and

Sandra in 1957. They were married in 1983. Sandra's father was born in what was then Yugoslavia and her mother was born in Friuli. I first

met Michael and Sandra in San Fior where they were visiting Michael's

sister, Clare. They had spent a year in Europe, half of this time working in the ice-cream parlour in Germany in which Clare was a partner, and half living in Conegliano. Michael was very well informed about his parents’ migration:

Dad migrated for the same reasons everybody else did, economic reasons . . . He could see better opportunities in Australia. The same story was too, that they’d all emigrate for five or six years, work and go back with all the money they made. That was everyone's intention. But you talk to most of them and more than 80 per cent prefer to stay in Australia now. There's still a few who want to return but not the majority.

Sandra

was also very aware

of her parents-in-law’s history and

mentioned that the fact Franco's father had died when Franco was very

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young had meant he’d had even fewer opportunities in Italy: no father’s job to inherit. Michael believes that his father came out to Australia at the ‘right time’: Those that came out before my dad, they came out with nothing, no money. But 99 per cent of those Italians who came in the fifties; you speak to them, they came to a ‘gold mine’. If you were willing to work, you worked hard but you made a fortune. Very different to what it was like in Italy. Now it's a bit reversed ... We're in the recession. In the last ten years, they've basically caught up with us.

Either they've caught up or we've gone back.

Michael knew about the straccivendolo history of San Fior, something few Australian-born ‘San Fiorese’ had heard of. He could recount the Gypsy-origin story and list all the sayings about thieves. The extended time Michael and Sandra spent in Italy enabled them to learn more about the place than if they had visited for just a brief time. The fact that Michael's sister, Clare, married and settled in Italy has meant that Michael and Sandra have closer family ties in San Fior than any other second generation migrants.

It was obvious from the young couple's statements that they had considered living in Italy. Michael was able to quote to me the differences in cost of living and wages for his profession between Italy and Australia: ‘I love Italy . . . I'd love to go back and maybe work for two or three years, but . . . I also like my quarter-acre block, my little vegetable garden out the back; you can’t have that in Italy unless you’ve got plenty of money ... I'd have to buy an apartment there’. Michael compared the lifestyle of his uncle, who lives in Italy, to that of his father. Both men like to ‘plod around on their land’, but in Italy ‘people are always looking over the fence’. He described San Fior as closeknit and lacking in privacy, while Perth and Kalamunda were ‘more private and free’: ‘Thats why my mum hates it here and loves it over there, because she likes to get out and talk to everybody. Whereas my dad, he likes to sit in his backyard and do his own thing’. Michael and Sandra had been surprised by the ‘gossipy nature’ of the small town. Michael described his uncle’s shop, Freschet’, as ‘the

centre of the community’. Situated between the piazza and the main road, the shop is rather hazardous to get to and yet the elderly, in particular, continue to frequent the shop. Both Michael and Sandra were ‘amazed’ at the ‘goings on’ in the shop. Michael said: Freschet’s would have been one of the first littke supermarkets in that area. Now they've got shops all over the place, but still the older folk will always come to that place because it becomes a ‘PR’ exercise. They know that if they go there, my uncle and aunt will give them

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two minutes to talk about whatever they want. They can talk, they can joke. Where, I suppose, they couldn't do that in a big supermarket. Can you imagine going to Coles [Australian supermarket chain] and sitting there and screaming and telling jokes. Whereas in there, this lady came in, I won't tell you what she said, [laughs] but I mean, you'd only tell it to your best friend.

Sandra added: ‘The older ones are very willing to come in [to the shop] and will give you a very broad outline of private happenings, and public occurrences and opinions on an international level that just

echo off the walls of the shop and then it’s “Bye” and out they go’.

Michael visited San Fior with his whole family in 1956, when he

was two, and in 1963. In 1974, Michael went on a seven-week tour of

Europe on a school trip and during two days in Venice, made a brief visit to his relatives. Michael and Sandra first visited Italy together in 1985, and they went again together in 1987, which was when I met them. Sandra had visited once on her own, in 1977, before she was engaged to Michael. She went with a girlfriend and met up with Michael’ sister Clare, whom she knew from school. Clare was living in

San Fior at the time. They rented an apartment in Conegliano for three weeks and Clare took them to visit her relatives in San Fior. Sandra's last visit was in 1990, when she went on her own and stayed with Clare for four weeks. Michael's clearest memories of his childhood visits are of the cars his father transported with them. Sandra joked about how they were so big they could only be driven on the main roads. In 1956 they took the ‘red Galaxy’, in 1963, the ‘black Falcon’. Michael's family stayed for eighteen months in 1956. Despite the length of their stay, according to Michael, ‘it was not an attempted return, it was just to show the grannies the kids’. In 1963, however, when his father had retired, the

intention had been to repatriate: ‘They wanted to buy some land out there but Mum didn’ like it. The irony is that the land now has been sold and it’s worth a fortune’. Now it is Michael's mother who would prefer to live in Italy while his father no longer wants to: ‘The problem is, you've got two different types of people: Mum, who wants to go to San Fior for six months and stay in San Fior and not move. Whereas Dad hates that. If he goes to San Fior, he’d like to get in the car and take off and travel’. Sandra had much to say about why her mother-inlaw prefers Italy. She pointed out that, during the war, Maria had endeared herself to many townspeople by giving them food when they could not afford to pay for it. In addition, Maria has several siblings living in San Fior and her life in Australia is comparatively isolated, ‘in a family sense’.

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Michael then compared his parents to his aunt and uncle. Michael's paternal aunt, Bruna, had twice attempted a return to settle in San Fior

with her husband, Giuglio. Both times they decided to return to Kalamunda. Giuglio liked living in Italy more than Bruna did, because, according to Michael and Sandra, he enjoyed frequenting the local bar and playing bocce. Bruna, however, found living in Italy restrictive. According to Sandra: It wasn’t that she did much more in Australia but she had more choices ... There’s something about choice. Over there was very restricted at that time

[for women].

We're talking about the 1960s

. .. The men congregate in their bar and Uncle loved that atmosphere of going over and having a glass of wine with his friends and playing bocce.

Of course,

here he’d

have

to travel on

two

buses

to get to

Laguna. And it isn’t the same atmosphere.

Michael and Sandra were very conscious of the negative view the townspeople in San Fior have of Australia. Unlike Michael's father, Franco, however, they are not bitter about Australia’s poor image. Sandra described the joking relationship Michael has developed with his uncle in Italy: ‘Michael's uncle often teases about “what are you

doing in that God forsaken land, this is the blessed land” sort of thing.

Michael actually plays a joke on him, sends him little piles of sand, “this is the sacred sand” sort of thing’. Michael explained that his older relatives thought that ‘Australia is full of bush, kangaroos and black people’, while for younger people, Australia is fast becoming a popular tourist destination. The young are attracted by the very things that the elderly find distasteful about Australia. The elderly see Australia as a place of cultural poverty with little to offer, while the young see it as a place of natural beauty and ‘final frontier’ adventure. Not surprisingly, the topic of dress eventually came up in our conversation and Sandra described the different dress standards in San Fior and Perth as an indication of the different way of life in the two places: We'd talk about the differences in fashion and it was hard for them to understand that in Australia it didn’t really matter what you wore or how you wore it, because they’re very set. In winter, you wear dark colours and whatever colour is in fashion, closed shoes, you

don’t wear open-toe shoes . . . All these funny little things and they couldn't understand the differences here ... They really like their lot, they’re really happy wearing their designer jeans and whatever else is on the go... . 1 get the idea that we might be a bit ‘pleby’: ‘Oh here come the hicks. Oh wow, look at those shoes’. But not that they

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would ever make a sarcastic comment, but you sort of get the idea that they really like their lot.

Sandra identified what she described as a ‘sense of materialism gone overboard’ among the townspeople. It is an oft-mentioned fact that some people budget their food consumption in order to dress in the latest fashion. Michael was amazed at the cost of living and at how people can afford to dress the way they do: I couldn’t understand

it, because when

we lived there in 1987

for

three months, we stayed in an apartment. We were really doing it the way they would be doing it there. And I couldn’t understand because we were going through over a thousand dollars a month and we were just living. I mean, that was just the bare essentials and we couldn't understand all these people who have got fancy cars and these beautiful dresses and coats. I'd ask, ‘How do these people live?’, and my uncle said, ‘Look, there’ A and there's B. We're A, we'd

rather have our steak than go without . actually do without their steak and go really true. I mean, sure, there are rich the majority of people, their number clothes and their food comes second to

. . Where other people would out and buy fashion’. That's people there, but he reckons one priority would be their that.

The only negative aspect of their visit to San Fior, according to both

Michael and Sandra, was that some of their relatives were ‘not particu-

larly interested in us’. Michael was visibly disappointed at the lack of regard he received from his cousins: That's the irony. If they came over here, we'd show them around. Whereas over there, it’s like, ‘Oh, here they are again’. They do their

own thing, they don’t really care. 1 tend to enjoy seeing my uncles more than seeing my cousins who are my age ... I mean they love to see you, but the classic for me is the hint that I love to go in the

snow and try and ski. So the classic was I'd drop the hint every now and then:—'Gee,

it would

be nice to go and have a ski’. ‘Oh yes,

wouldn't it’, and that was the end of it. It always ended up being my uncle, the older person, who’d take us. Like if your cousin came out and hinted to you would you take me to the beach and the irony would be you’d go about your normal social life and your dad would take him to the beach, that was the situation which

to me seemed

strange.

It was well known among the migrants that when visitors arrive in Perth from Italy their Australian relatives spent time and money making their stay as memorable as possible. When Australians visit their

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relatives in Italy, however, the enthusiasm and lavish generosity is not reciprocated. The Australian San Fiorese may feel the need to prove to their visitors that Australia really is a great place by showing them all the sights. In San Fior, on the other hand, it is taken for granted that

Italy is the best place to be. The younger people—those who did not experience la miseria and the waves of emigration—are notoriously disinterested in visitors. Sandra tried to explain their reception from the point of view of the young people in Italy: ‘My impression is they don't care. They are totally into their own lives, into their own space. “Oh here they are, how nice” and off they go. It just doesn’t even occur to them that you've come from halfway across the world and would love to see more and know more. They’re just into their own thing’. The generation from whose ranks the emigrants came is more responsive to visitors. Sandra painted a very different picture when she described the reception they received from older relatives: ‘They love the idea, I think, that you're actually interested in them and care enough to want to go back, to spend all that money and go there and spend time with them. I think that warms them. I really think that, to a certain degree, it impresses them’. Family is still the main reason Michael visits San Fior: ‘I love the history and architecture in Europe, through my work anyway, and the scenery, the mountains. It’s so contrasted to what we’ve got over here. And then tied in between that is obviously the relations. It really boils down to the relations, that’s

what it means to me, relations’. Michael admitted that, because of the

lack of connection between himself and his cousins, he often wonders

whether he will keep visiting once his older relatives die: ‘Even after they do pass away, I’ll still be “50/50” . . . a dinky-di ding’.® According to Michael and Sandra, the majority of emigrants from San Fior who live in Perth prefer to live in Australia. At the same time, their visits to San Fior are extremely important, not simply as a way of maintaining contact, but also as a way of proving that their migration was successful. Michael explained that, ‘some go over there to show how much money they’ve got and spend it rich, it’s a “I’m a big American” sort of thing’. Sandra agreed: ‘At that time, in the ’fifties and early ‘sixties, Australia was heaps better off than Italy, so they were the americani. It’s only been in the last twenty years that the tide has turned, very gradually I might add’. Michael described his family’s first return visit as a chance for his parents to ‘check out’ Italy. They then decided

to remain in Australia because, at that stage, there were more opportunities here. Sandra agreed:

They had a house and a plot of land that they called their own. Most

of them by that stage, when they did go back the first time, had a

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vehicle of their own. Whereas at that time in Italy very rarely could you afford a car; you biked. You didn’t have a car. I also think the privacy factor is an important one. In other words, to a certain degree you did what you liked, you wore what you liked, even though they still perhaps criticise each other amongst each other. It seems to be a mentality trait. Basically you could really do what you wanted to here. Whereas, if you were over there, it’s like everybody knows and if they don’t know they make it their business to know.

Michael debated with Sandra, saying the migrants could have afforded to buy houses and cars in Italy with the money they'd made in Australia. He thought their decision to stay in Australia had more to do with independence, being able to make choices for themselves, by themselves. Sandra added that this was particularly true for women. I asked them what Michael’ parents thought about his sister, Clare, living in Italy. Michael responded: Two different views, my mum likes it in the sense that because it gives her more reason to go over there now. But then she doesn’t like it because she’s so far away. My dad doesn’t really say much but I'd say I think he’d prefer her to be over here. Because I think he’d still have that thing saying, ‘Oh, she’d have more opportunities here than over there’. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like Italy, he always loves to go back. But again, it gets to that question of actually physically living there. Even though he could afford to go there and buy a plot of land exactly the same as he’s got here, buy a car exactly the same . eat and clothe themselves the same ... It really gets back to non-material things .. . It really is the way of life here. You're freer to do basically what they want to do.

Michael believes there has been a change in the reasons people visit their home towns: ‘On their first trip back, the majority would have stayed in San Fior for six months. But you find the people that go back now, every couple of years, spend less time in San Fior and more time travelling, so they've found that different thing’. That ‘different thing’ Michael refers to is the change in the function of visits. Initially, visits were about proving a successful migration. More recently, visits are about developing one’s Italo-Australian identity. After having criticised aspects of the way of life in San Fior, Sandra and Michael proceeded to paint an almost idyllic picture of what they called ‘the Italian lifestyle’, listing the varied social events, the quality cuisine, the natural beauty and the history as what they liked about living in the province of Treviso. Visiting San Fior, for Sandra and Michael,

is tied up with

having the chance to be a particular type of Italian. Gone are the

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references to gossipy and narrow-minded inhabitants. Sandra described a cosmopolitan lifestyle, ‘close to the centre of Europe’, which, although near in physical terms, is, in cultural terms, very distant from most of the inhabitants of San Fior: The willingness to interact, male and

female as well, whereas here

the guys do tend to be a bit more segregated. I’m not saying it doesn't happen there, but there aren't walls, they just happily cross over when they feel like it. I like the fact that you go out every day and buy your necessities food-wise, whereas here we tend to shop once a week and make a big hassle out of it, or once a fortnight. That way you do have that interaction, they're interested in the quality of the food ... that seems to be good because it's something about nurturing. Then you've got the fact that they’re close to wonderful cities like Venice, Florence and Rome and the centre of Europe. We

miss that here.

Danny and Mark Zamin are Grazia’s grandsons. | knew them as ‘Danilo and Marco’ (because Grazia was forever talking about them).

They, however, prefer the English names, Danny and Mark, ‘for business reasons mainly’, because of the clientele their men’s fashion boutique draws. Danny and Mark are Guido and Corina’s sons. Danny was born in 1958 and Mark in 1964. I interviewed the brothers together at their parents’ house in the inner-city suburb of Inglewood. Guido and Corina manage a very successful tailoring business from their home. At the time I interviewed them, in 1991, their parents were visiting San Fior

and Danny and Mark were minding their house. Danny was very sure about the reason his father migrated: ‘Our dad actually left Italy because at that time there was a depression on and also he didn’t want to do his military service. So he thought, “I'll come over here and earn some money for two or three years and then come back, things might be a bit better by then”’. The brothers mapped out their father’s initial years in Australia, how he first sent back the money

he’d borrowed for his fare, then he built a house in Kalamunda and

sent for his fiancée, Corina. Mark used to live in a chicken shed when obviously heard this history often. San Fior. According to Danny: ‘Our

impersonated his father saying: ‘I I was first working here’, they had They had also heard much about dad would always go on about it,

San Fior this, San Fior that. But our mother said, “One day when you

actually see it, it’s just a country town, it’s a bit of a hick town”’. Mark explained how his paternal grandfather had emigrated to Canada, Germany and Austria and that the family was used to ‘going and finding work elsewhere and bringing back money’. He assumed that this was the way his family saw his fathers migration. Danny

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added that, at the time, ‘they thought the streets were paved with gold here in Australia’. Guido moved to Inglewood in 1964 and, according to his sons, the success of his tailoring business made him very happy about living in Australia. Mark explained that his father ‘never actually made a decision to stay here. I think he just went with the flow basically’. The brothers believe, however,

that their mother did not

have as easy a time settling in. Besides her isolation and language problems, Mark attributed his mother’s initial hardships to the social

climate of the time:

From what I can gather though, the migrants in those days were treated a bit like the Asians these days. There was a bit of racism and they used to be poked fun at. They were obviously the hard workers of that generation and they got ahead by hard work and Australians didn’t like that and the same would go for Asians these days.

The brothers explained that their parents did not have the opportunity to visit San Fior often or for long periods because of their business commitments: they ran a small dressmaking factory with around thirty employees. The only visits their father made were for his brother’ funeral in 1969 and his father’s funeral in 1971. Corina remained in Perth both times to ‘look after’ the business. The need to visit was also reduced by the fact that Corina’s family emigrated and Grazia visited Australia three times. Mark remembers very little about his first visit to San Fior with his

parents in 1978, except that they had been ‘wanting to visit for ages’. Danny, who was left in charge of the business, had to wait until 1988 before he could visit San Fior with his parents for the first time. He was thirty years of age. Guido and Corina had always wanted to take Danny ona visit to Italy because they had already taken Mark on one. This time, Mark stayed behind to look after the business. I asked Danny about his impressions of San Fior: It was a bit of an eye-opener. I think the strangest part is all those you talk to on the phone or write a letter to and they were saying hello to you. Like your zia [aunt] and zio [uncle] over there, your relations, you actually finally see them and you can put a face to a name and obviously what you saw you didn’t expect. Once you got over that it was sort of back to San Fior and San Fior was really a country town. I was prepared for that, we’d been through Rome and all that and it was great but I was itching to get to San Fior. You hear so much about it. I think the people were just nice people and | think the main part is that you can speak Italian. If you couldnt speak Italian I think it would be a little bit different.

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Danny felt that if you couldn't speak Italian the people would ignore you, just as Dorothy Botteon discovered. Danny told me that he had been disappointed with his reception. He found that the San Fiorese had a negative impression of Australia: ‘They think Australia is bush and kangaroos’. He echoed Michael and Sandra Zamin’s view that the Italians in Italy are not interested in Australia: ‘I really think they don’t even think about it, not that they don’t care, but I don’t think they contemplate it’. Danny was outraged at the way he was treated by his cousin, who failed to take him out. It was because he had no one to go out with that Danny ended up spending some time with me. (This is, in fact, how I came to meet Grazia.) Danny and I knew each other because our parents were friends through Laguna. Danny knew I was in Tarzo and decided to contact me ‘because I couldn’t find anyone in San Fior to go sightseeing with’. Danny had been keen to visit Venice and asked me to accompany him. Danny was still rather angry with his cousin for not being more interested in him: If he came here, whether he were married or single, you’d take him out to a club. We'd go out of our way. Over there they don’t seem to, and I think my dad found it this time as well. I sort of tried to tell him, because he was bored. I said, ‘Well, you wanted to go there and

stay in that bloody town’. I told him, ‘All the rest, they’ve got their lives to go on with’. Our aunty is flat out in her little factory there and everyone’s going to work and they're all busy really.

Both Danny and Mark interpreted their parents’ 1991 visit as having been inspired by their father's ill-health and his desire to see his mother, Grazia, who was, at the time, ninety years old. We talked about how their father had entertained the idea of living in San Fior for an extended period of time but that soon after his arrival he had changed his mind. Danny explained: He realised that he could never go back to that lifestyle . . . Our dad went over there with a vision of, ‘I’m just going to be there and I’m going to live there for I don’t know how long, maybe for ever’. But now he feels as if he can’t get out of there quick enough. But when he was here he couldn't wait to go there.

The brothers were well aware of the way their mother viewed the

town:

For Mum it’s the old, ‘nice place to visit but I don’t want to live there’. She’s very independent and she’s very happy with her lifestyle here. She does her water aerobics, if she wants to, she goes to lunch

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with her friends, she plays golf. She can go shopping, if she wants to spend some money she can spend it .. . She can basically do what she wants and no one questions her. Over there it’s very different, you lack privacy, everyone knows what everyone else is doing, it's just the way it is.

Guido did not enjoy his time in San Fior because initially he was on

his own and, besides missing his wife, he said he no longer ‘fit in’.

Corina had not wanted to visit at all and her sons had had to encourage her to go. In the end, she enjoyed the visit because she went sightseeing with Rico and Tina Tonos and so got out of the town. Mark contrasted their father’s view of San Fior with that of Franco Zamin’s: ‘Franco seems to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder about the people in San Fior. It's as if whenever he goes back there, they're always trying to make out that they’re smarter than him. Whether that’s the case, I don’t know, but he says, “Oh those bloody people over there, they don’t know what it’s like here”. Danny and Mark knew a great deal about the history of the San Fiorese in Australia but very little about San Fior. They knew, for example, that Franco Zamin had shipped his

car, a Galaxy, to Italy on his first visit and that, on his second visit, he had taken a black Falcon—even though these events took place before either of them had been born. They laughed heartily about how the

cars did not fit the streets.

Danny and Mark are surprised that their relatives in San Fior have not used them as an opportunity to visit Australia. They surmise that Italians have a different mentality regarding visiting. They believe their parents will continue to visit even after Grazia dies because anytime they contemplate a holiday, San Fior is always part of the itinerary. The brothers reflected on their connection to San Fior and I asked them if they thought they'd still visit after their grandmother and aunt had passed away. They talked about their heritage and Mark explained: ‘Other than Perth, it’s the only place that we can identify with’. Guido and Corina own Grazia’ house because they helped pay for it with money they sent her, and Danny and Mark hope they will always have access to it.

I asked Danny and Mark if they considered themselves Italian or Australian. Customers often ask them their ethnic identity and both young men say they are Italian. However, they were quick to point out that they were different to Italians in Italy and they also differentiated themselves from other second generation Italo-Australians. Danny explained: ‘We are Australians who regard ourselves as Italians unlike a lot of Italians here who regard themselves as Italian and try and be an Italian in Australia’. The young men see their identification as Italian

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as a marketing advantage because of the popularity and reputation of Italian clothing. Mark gave an overview of what he considered to be the different types of second generation Italians: Here there are Italians who, rather than moving into the Australian

mode of living, they try to be Italian at the same time. I don’t mean not forgetting their heritage, which I think is important ... Over here

a lot of Italians, and

they tend

to be more

southern

Italians

from what I’ve noticed, are so determined to live the Italian lifestyle

in Australia. For starters, they tend to stick to groups of Italian people, whether it be where they live or where they go out socially. They’re not too worried about mixing into the larger community, they’re trying to live that Italian lifestyle.

Mark differentiates between second generation Italians who ‘try to

be Italian’ and those who, like himself, are ‘Australian’ but are proud of

their Italian heritage: ‘We like the Australian way of life. We appreciate the things that are Italian. Although,

there was a time, in our teens,

when maybe it wasn’t cool to be Italian and you may not have really brought that up so much. Now its more fashionable’. Danny interrupted his brother saying that not all ‘types’ of second generation Italians are ‘fashionable’: ‘there’s a difference between Australian-Italians and Italian-Italians’. The latter, according to Danny are of ‘mainly southern origin. They tend to stick into that family atmosphere of living in the same suburb, having the same type of house, going to the same social events. They extend it even further as their friends are their paesani and they want to dress the same’. Mark agreed and added that he and Danny ‘are definitely not this type of Italian’. In their discussion about ‘types’ of Italians, Mark and Danny also shared their

concern about what they called ‘the Australian stereotype of Italians’: A stereotype that a lot of Australians have of Italians is not right. I find it offensive because northern Italians and people from the middle regions of Italy have quite a bit of style, quite a bit of history and quite a bit of individuality and artistic flare. For the Italians to be stereotyped as the type that we're talking about, I’m not happy about it.

Mark and Danny have opted for the most politically expedient way of identifying themselves, and conform to the current culturalist definition of multiculturalism:’ they uphold the structural tenets of mainstream society but at the same time they celebrate the cultural traditions of their heritage. In their discussion about the second generation, Mark and Danny’ descriptions flesh out the four Gramscian divisions between types of Italians: the division between northern and southern Italians—southerners being perceived as more ‘traditional’

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and less inclined to ‘mix with the broader community’; the rural/urban split—San Fior being rural and insular, Perth being urban and cosmopolitan; Italy and its emigrant communities—where Italians in Italy are differentiated from Italians abroad; and the popular and ‘real’ Italy division—popular or marketable Italy, developed over the last thirty years with the industrialisation of Italy. Mark and Danny were both aware that there was a time when it was not fashionable to be Italian but that, today, a certain type of Italian—the one that wears Italian designer label clothes—is fashionable. Ironically, only a small percentage of second generation Italians frequent Mark and Danny's boutique despite the fact that almost all the merchandise is imported from Italy. Mark explained that Italians in Australia do not buy from them because the clothes they sell are exclusive and ‘not what the Italian-Italo-Australians like to dress in. They prefer to all wear the same gear, they are clones of each other, they show no individuality’. They believe their boutique caters for the non-lItalian who likes Italian design and craftsmanship: ‘Italian products have a very good market in Australia’. Part of Danny’s visit to San Fior included shopping for his boutique. Through their work, the young men identify closely with the ‘popular’ Italian identity: A lot of clients are shocked when they find out that we’re Italians. Some think we are Italian. We have olive skin and all that. But, when

you tell them they sort of say, ‘Oh you don’t seem to be Italian’ and then the conversation gets in and our main statement is, ‘Well, there’s

Italians and there's Italians’, and they seem to understand that.

Ugo Camerin was born in 1959 and is the second of three sons born to Paolo and Rita Camerin. Ugo talked about his parents’ migration in terms of opportunity for a better life. As he understands it, his parents did not have to migrate. Ugo made this judgement based on comparisons he drew between people in San Fior today and the emigrants in Australia, and not on the specific conditions his father experienced at the time of his migration: They could’ve stayed. A lot of people did and did quite well from what I can see. All the people that left, by the same token, did rather well too, possibly better than anyone that stayed. They seem to be enjoying a better way of life over there now ... the difference I found

from

1984 to 1989 was marginal, but to 1969, when I

first

went there as a young boy, it was quite dramatic.

Ugo speculated that his parents’ family would have seen their migration positively because: ‘They were trying to better themselves and get away and do something for themselves and probably take a

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load off their own family at the same time’. Ugo believes his parents have come to consider Australia their home, despite their initial intention to return to San Fior. He notes their change in attitude as coinciding with the establishment of their family here. Ugo remembers very little about his first visit to San Fior in 1969. He went with his whole family for three months. On his second visit, in 1984, he travelled alone and, after completing a world tour, stayed in San Fior for six weeks with his father’s widowed sister, Tona. Ugo'’s

primary motive for visiting San Fior had been to meet up with a Canadian cousin who was going to teach him to ski. I asked Ugo about the townspeople’s impression of Australia and he thought it was improving because of the number of return visits: ‘Visiting migrants explain what it’s like and show photos’. Ugo’ family has had more relatives visit than has any other San Fiorese family in Australia. His relatives would therefore have an idea of Australia that was much more informed than the popular ‘kangaroos, snakes and desert’ view. Unlike the other young people I interviewed, Ugo had no gripes about his reception: ‘Oh, they make a big fuss, more than what you want really. Sometimes if you don’t have the time it’s difficult to even get to see everybody. You might miss out on one or two and when they find out you’ve been and gone they can get rather disappointed and upset’. Ugo considers life in San Fior to be very different to life in Perth, especially with regard to family life: They're still quite traditional. Family structure is quite strong in Italy where it's not so important here. A lot of my cousins are still living in the house with their folks . . . and that’s regarded as common and accepted practice, whereas most young people here would frown on that. Independence over there doesn’t even come into it. Independence from your parents, anyway. It’s not really an issue because they look at things differently and it’s not so important to them... Our ways tend to change from the first generation that was here, whereas over there, the generations tend to carry on the same traditions.

Ugo has lived out of home since he was twenty-one. He is presently in a de-facto relationship, which he feels sure would be unheard of in San Fior. Ugo’s relatives in San Fior know that he lives out of home: ‘They always asked questions like: “How do you feed yourself?” “Who looks after you?” Ugo’s description of ‘generational change’ defines San Fiorese in Australia as more emancipated and modern than San Fiorese

in Italy and challenges the commonly held view that migrants in the host country are often ‘frozen’ in a ‘time-warp’ in which they maintain the values and traditions from their time of departure.®

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Relatives in Italy do not know about Ugo’s non-lItalian de-facto partner, Lucy, and neither do many of his parents’ Laguna friends. A number of unmarried children of Laguna members no longer live at

home and a few of them are in de-facto relationships. Members tend

not to gossip about other people's business and although the truth is not hidden, it is only shared when people ask. One Laguna member commented, ‘Everyone’s pretty much in the same boat so no one can

point their finger at anyone’. Another member explained: ‘It has become

common practice not to inquire about other people's children someone asks you about your own!’ Ugo visited San Fior again in 1989 with a male friend. They for two weeks at the end of a four-week Swiss and Austrian trip. Ugo, like most of the second generation San Fiorese viewed, very rarely writes to or phones

in case

stayed skiing I inter-

relatives in San Fior. The

work of maintaining kin ties falls mainly to mothers: ‘Mum constantly keeps in touch with everybody’. Ugo maintains that his visits gave him ‘a deeper appreciation of his ancestry’, something he believes his parents tried to promote when he was younger: ‘It never actually worked out that way but we’re waking up to it in our later life ... Its like a sense of pride really, you’re not just your average Aussie blue-blood, but you're first generation Italian-Australian’. One way Ugo says he shows that he is ‘Italian’ is through the clothes he wears. However, he distinguishes himself from Italians in Italy: ‘They're very touchy about the way they dress and present themselves . . . I thought it was a bit amusing. I mean there’s a lot to be said for dressing up, but they take it to new highs. I like the fashions over there though. That's part of the reason I go back. | like to buy up things’. Next time Ugo visits he intends to take Lucy: ‘To show her off . . . because one thing they always ask me when I’m over there is when I’m going to get married, and all the usual questions, and why don’t I stay over there and find a nice Italian wife. So, I’ve got to prove I’ve done something, so I’m taking her back’. Ugo, like Michael Zamin, has noticed a change in the pattern of his parents’ visits:

Its a combination of needing to get away and have needing to see old friends and relatives. Nowadays they straight to Italy, they tend to divert off to other areas time and come through Italy as a last stop and say hi and that’s it for another few years.

a break and don’t just go at the same to everyone

According to Ugo, his mother’s sister, Sofia, who married Marco Zamin

(Franco's cousin) refuses to visit San Fior. When I asked him why he thought his aunt refused to visit, he explained:

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It tended to revolve around one specific clash which my aunty had with one of her brothers who had nothing but criticism and abuse about her and Mum for having such small regard for them as to only come back every so many years and not visit them on a more regular basis—like you haven’t been doing your sisterly duty. He was being a stick in the mud and is renowned for that in the family for many years, and that sort of put my aunt off and my uncle as well . . . The ones who get any stick tend to stay here... They've no intention of going back either.

This aunt and uncle are the only people Ugo knows who do not He believes his parents probably had the same experience but ‘just pass it off ... Whereas my uncle and aunt tend to get offended. It helps if you’ve got a sense of humour I suppose with of the people over there’.

visit. they more some

John Tonos was born in 1963, and is the eldest son of Rico and Tina

Tonos. John was not as well informed about his father’s migration as Simon, Matthew, Ugo and even young Martin were about their respective parents’ stories. The fact that John and his family were not part of the San Fiorese community in Perth might explain why he knew so little about the migration history. John knew of Rico’s apparent disappointment with his migration, and perhaps that explained why ‘he doesn’t talk about it much’. All John knew about life in San Fior was

that ‘it had been hard during the wars’. He explained simply that his father came out ‘for the same reason they all came out: there was no work in Italy and Australia promised gold and riches’. John did not

know the details of his father’s decision to leave San Fior, nor that his father emigrated on a government scheme. He was, however, informed about the present industrialised nature of the province. someone who has spent as much time in Treviso as John, I surprised to find he was unfamiliar with the detti associated with Fior, although he had heard of the straccivendoli. John explained:

well For was San

I didn’t really spend a lot of time there [in San Fior]. I didn’t really take too much

notice

of the background

and yet, I’m more at home

of the Tonos’

existence,

over there than Dad is. I feel like

Conegliano is home to me there, not San Fior. I spend all my time in

Conegliano, living with my Uncle Giuliano, my father’s brother.

John visited his kin in San Fior where an uncle and two aunts live,

but he never actually lived in the town, always lodging in Conegliano. The change in the pattern of visits noted by both Michael and Danny Zamin is reflected in John’s preference for Conegliano over San Fior. Most of the emigrants I interviewed admitted that they preferred to

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stay in Conegliano than in the small town of San Fior. During their early visits in the

1950s,

1960s and

1970s,

however,

the emigrants

had stayed with their relatives in San Fior. Originally Giuliano lived in San Fior, and on John’s first visit to Italy, which was with his family in 1972, they lodged with him for six months. John was eight years old and remembers little about this visit. John believes his father visits Italy in order to see his nine siblings and their families: ‘The one thing they look forward to when he does come out is the reunion. They have a mass and get-together just for the

family. One brother, Emanuele, is in France, the rest of them are all in

the area. Emanuele sort of spends half a year in Italy and half in France’. The reunion, however, is not without its tensions: A lot of people go back and find things have really changed and they feel out of place and it's no longer home. Home’s back here. I think my father, he gets out there, give him a couple of weeks, he has a great time and he’s ready to come home. I remember one day in particular. We just drove around San Fior to see his old school friends and I felt sorry for him because he was really anxious to see them because he hadn't seen them for twenty-odd years or something .. . Like walking into this shop and he said to the guy, ‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’ And he said who he was and my father’ really sort of keen and excited to sort of see them again and they say, ‘Oh yea, how’ve you been?’ That was a big sort of let-down for him.

John visited on his own in 1985: ‘My uncle years before and he sort of lured me over. I went have a three-month working holiday and see a started working and stayed just over two years’.

had been here a few with the intention to bit of Europe. Ha! | John’s parents visited

while he was in Conegliano in 1987, as did his older sister, Lidia, and

her Greek-Australian husband. John’s relatives in Italy had a more negative view of Australia than other relatives of emigrants despite the fact that Giuliano and Emanuele had visited Perth: ‘They can’t understand why Dads living here [in Perth]. They see he came to Australia and it’s not home

to them. Italy

is Italy. To them it’s the greatest’. John’s father had been ‘very hurt’ by Giuliano’s refusal to stay in his house. To add insult to injury, Giuliano had complained that the hotel booked for him by Rico, one of Perth’s finest, was ‘very unimpressive’. According to John: ‘A lot of people had no idea what Australia is about. The only thing they get of Australia is kangaroos, desert, and Aborigines. Beyond that all they know is Sydney. Very few people had even heard of Perth’. As his uncle's employee, John was sent all over Europe installing merchandise, having ‘the time of my life’. John maintains that it was

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very difficult for him to return to Perth in 1988 and less than a year later he had booked himself another trip: I decided I was just going to go back for a skiing holiday and see my relations again. I do miss them, because I like to see the family. I was at home there. I went back out with the intention to stay six weeks and I fell straight back in and started working again and that was it, I settled in again. The main reason I came back was because I had my house built, otherwise I'd probably still be there.

John’s six-week holiday became a ten-month sojourn. I met John in San Fior during this stay. He was intending to visit again, for his cousin’s wedding in 1992, but was undecided about whether or not he would live there: ‘I won't be one hundred per cent settled until I’m married. If things continue the way they're going here, down hill, I'll probably go back, because I have a position over there’. John regards trips to Italy

as an economic strategy much the same way his father saw Australia in the 1950s. The fact that John has more employment opportunities in

Italy undermines one of the most central reasons that inspired many emigrants to settle in Australia—a better future for their children. John’s

father had, however, wanted to return to San Fior and only settled in

Perth because his wife, Rita, did not want to live in Italy. Similarly, John believes that marriage will determine where he eventually settles: ‘TIl either have to get married here or there, and that will close the deal’. I asked John what his parents think about his ‘affair with Italy’: ‘I think my father’s quite happy about it. No doubt, they miss me when I’m gone but they also look upon the fact that it’s a good excuse for them to go there every year, so I don’t think they’d be too upset either way’. Initially Giuliano had wanted his brother, Rico John’s father), to work in his factory with him. The majority of employees in the factory have always been from San Fior. Giuliano has owned the factory for thirty years, which is the same amount of time his brother has been in Australia. When John’s family visited in 1972, the intention had been for Rico to go into partnership with Giuliano: ‘The plan was for my father to take over the running of the factory, while my uncle ran the business side of things, but it didn’t work out. I think pride got the better of my father ... Working for his younger brother when he'd established

himself here’.

intended position:

Giuliano

wanted John

to fill his father’s

He dangled the carrot in front of me. I had a house and car and you name it. It was all on offer and I enjoyed the work, I didn’t think

twice to go in and work on a Sunday and pull things ahead. But it

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down

to pride.

It's not what

I’ve earned,

I mean,

great,

I

could have lived the life of a king, but there’s no pride... Even my uncle’s friends would pull me aside and say, ‘What do you want to

go back to Australia for? You're crazy. This is the place for you’.

John’s experience is a repeat of his father’s, who was also told he was crazy to leave his job to migrate to Australia. John’s situation goes right to the heart of the rivalry between emigrants and townspeople, where pride and competition are central issues. John’s sister, Lidia, was also an unwilling recipient of Giuliano’ generosity, finding herself caught in the middle of family rivalry: ‘When they arrived they went to my aunt's place in San Fior. Giuliano sent one of my cousins down to pick them up and my sister said, “Why can’t we just do what we want?” They stayed in San Fior but Giuliano was quite insulted’. I could relate well to this family rivalry, given my similar experience of staying with relatives. Rico told me that he likes his son to visit Italy because it ‘has made him more Italian’: Rico Tina

He changed, he became a bit more civilised. Before he went out there he was just a... What was he? .. . Rough. Oh go on. He’s not rough. He's just an Australian.

Rico

Yes, Australian. He was, Australian.

According to Rico, visits to Italy have brought about a cultural transformation in his son. Even John believes that his visits have made him

more Italian: ‘The visits changed me. My ideas about life and family. I became more Italian. I would never even have called myself Italian before 1 went. Now that I’m back I consider myself Italian’. John recalled his school days and the way he was embarrassed about his ethnic identity: At school, because we were the minority we used to cop flack from the Australians. Because of jealousy I'd say. From their parents years and years back. So you hid your Italian identity at school, whereas now I'm proud. | prefer to show it off. Now I get more admiration than anything else.

John’s experiences reveal the change in social attitude about Italy and things Italian. At the same time, John, like Danny and Mark, described different types of second generation Italians in Australia and took pains to distinguish himself: ‘The sort of crowd at Hannibals [an inner-city] night club is majority southerners. I tend to keep away from them. The way they act and carry on. . . I'd prefer to disassociate myself from that, because I’m embarrassed of it. | don’t consider that

to be the “Italian” that I’m proud of’.?

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While his experience of living in Italy means that John now consciously identifies as an Italian—albeit a particular type of Italian—in

Australia, he was often confronted with how different he was and often identified as an Australian: Here we don’t think twice if we want to take off and go away for a weekend.

Even if we have to sleep in the car, we don’t think twice

about it. Over there it’s a big deal, it’s really frowned upon. I wanted to go to Lucca, north of Florence. It's apparently the only place in Italy where you can surf. I couldn't find anybody to come along. Because you don’t just pack your bags and go. It’s not done.

John’s experience of not finding anyone to go sightseeing with is similar to that of Danny and Michael Zamin. This was not the only frustration John shared with other second generation visitors. There was also the question of dress and bella figura common to all interviewees’ reports:

No one directly came out and said anything to me. I dare say that there was some talk behind my back. I noticed a few times that they dressed differently or acted differently. Like even going to a night club, over here everyone will have a few drinks, but over there they have their one drink, which they get free with their entry fee and that’s it. I got talking to a girl one of the first nights I was there who was born in America. I was buying drinks like we do here, and my cousin was shocked. He pulled me aside and said, ‘What the hell are

you doing?’ Then I really noticed the differences.

Like Michael and Sandra Zamin, John discovered many differences

in lifestyle between Italy and Australia through his sojourns in Italy. When I asked John which lifestyle he preferred, he was quick to respond: The Australian way of life is much more comfortable and laid back and easy going. In Italy you’ve got to be careful, someone's always watching what you're doing, or how you're presenting yourself. That was one of the things that used to bug me, the bella figura. Like, 1 went out there with the attitude that Joe Bloggs down the road does what he wants. I don’t care, as long as he doesn’t hassle me, he’s not

a problem. I’m not going to slander him. Whereas, over there, I think the people are all ‘one better than the other’. I had to change my style of dress. When I first arrived I felt like I was some kind of larrikin walking down the street. People in Italy go for their Sunday passeggiata [promenade] and it’s unbelievable, the way they dress. They dress better than most people would go to a wedding here. It's incredible! | felt out of place, so I had to sort of change my style to

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fit in. Not to make a bella figura, 1 wouldn't attempt to cut that sort of figure, but just to fit in.

Although he did not approve of the Italian preoccupation with bella figura, John was impressed by their standard of quality, particularly in the manufacturing industries. In his estimation, Italy’s level of quality far exceeds that of Australia’s: ‘Even the products Giuliano makes are not imported to Australia because Australians do not want the top of the range. They don’t have the same eye for quality, its not important to them’. John installed some electrical goods in a new inner-city cafe. When the cafe opened an article in the local newspaper described it as ‘fully imported from Italy’: It’s all imported, but it’s bottom of the line stuff. I mean for the Australian market it’s great. People over there are quality conscious whereas over here, they look at the price first. Anything, a couple of cardboard boxes and a coat of paint, that'll do. The way things are done here in comparison to Italy is totally different. Everything. Like I didn’t see my house while it was being built, I just signed up for it and said ‘Right, I’m going skiing’. 1 came back and the house was built and I was shocked when I walked around inside the house. I was disgusted with the quality of the building.

The positives and negatives about both Italy and Australia deciding where to settle ‘a great headache’ for John: ‘I can’t wait back. I know that I can just lock up my doors and bang, I’m They'll open the doors to me. Like every time I speak to them phone they say: “When are you coming out?”

make to get home. on the

Chiara Gardin was born in 1964. Her father, Emilio, emigrated to Perth in 1954. Emilio has never made a return visit to his home town, due, according to Chiara, to financial reasons: ‘Oh he’d love to go, if finances were better he would, but I don’t think he’d go on his own. I

think he’d want to take the whole family and I think that’ a far-fetched story at the moment’. Emilio, who

lives in the suburb

of Morley, was not a member

of

and interviewed his brother Claudio, and his sister-in-law, Wanda,

in

Laguna and so to obtain an interview with him I had no choice but to ring him directly without a prior introduction. I told him I had met

San Fior, but despite these connections Emilio insisted that he ‘could not help me’. He did, however, invite me to contact his daughter, Chiara, explaining: ‘She has been to Italy’. When I later asked Chiara if she would try to organise an interview for me with her father, she laughed and said that her father was very shy and not one to ‘chat’: ‘He

doesn’t even chat to his own

family’. Emilio’ resistance to being

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interviewed resembles that of Don Bottan, and I wonder if he too is

embarrassed about never having visited San Fior.

Like John Tonos, Chiara knew very little about her father’s decision

to migrate and was not sure of his date of arrival in Australia. Our conversation quickly turned to Chiara’s only visit to Italy in 1981. It was her father who had ‘pushed’ her to visit: When I started working, my father kept suggesting that I go back to his home town to see my relatives. Well, I never really thought of the idea at all. My father kept on saying to me, ‘Why don’t you go back? Why don’t you go back?’ I had the money and my father had spoken to his sister and he kept asking me so finally I said: ‘All right, if you let me go’, because our father never let us go anywhere, but he knew I was going to good hands and over I went.

While it was Emilio’s idea that Chiara visit San Fior, he could not afford to pay for her: ‘He knew I had the savings in my account and that would be the only way because he didn’t have the extra spare cash’. Chiara’s visit brought the families closer together: ‘They say I’m very much like my father .. . and since then my father has kept more in touch with his elder sister’. Emilio organised for his daughter to stay with his sister, Santina, who, since her marriage, has lived in Bolzano, about 100 kilometres from San Fior. Chiara recalled that her uncles who had lived in Australia did not go out of their way to visit her. Santina only took her to visit San Fior shortly before it was time for Chiara to return to Perth. As with John and myself, Chiara became an unwitting catalyst for tension between her father’s siblings due to the thorny issue of residence. Chiara stayed at her aunt's place in Bolzano and not with her uncles in San Fior. When I interviewed her uncle’s family in San Fior, Chiara’s cousin,

Giulia, mentioned in passing that her aunt had ‘monopolised’ Chiara. Chiara had very clear memories of her time in San Fior, despite the brevity of her visit: I actually went into the house my father was born in and I met the lady that used to nurse my dad. That felt really good. And where they used to sit for dinner. I sort of looked and imagined all my dad's family sitting there and where my dad would be sitting. Apparently my dad was a really cheeky kid when he was young, but he doesn’t tell us that. I was told all sorts of things. And when I went back, my mum would go, ‘Ah ha, we knew you were not as perfect as you think you are’, and things like that, so it was really good.

Chiara took photographs of her grandparents’ graves at her father’s

request.

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Chiara, when describing her identity, says: ‘Even though I was born here, I’ve been brought up that I’m always Italian and I’m a lot happier saying I’m Italian rather than Australian’. Chiara described her father as having an ‘anti-Australia’ attitude, one he holds hand in hand with

an ‘Italy can do no wrong’ attitude: ‘Anything that happens wrong, it’s Australia’s fault—drugs—“typical Australia”; alcohol—‘typical Australia”. You can show him the newspaper lately that drugs are really bad in Italy but he doesn't believe it’. Chiara remembered seeing people selling and affected by drugs in Italy: ‘things I’ve never seen in Australia’. She was also given more freedom, in going out with her cousins, than she had been used to in Perth. Chiara is sure that if her

dad returned: ‘He’d be shocked, absolutely shocked’. For Chiara believes a visit would do her father good: ‘I think mellow out a bit more and know that things do change don’t stay the same’. Chiara is certain her father would

this reason, he’d sort of in life, they never move

back to live in Italy because he would not leave his family and, now

that she is married, she would not leave either. Apart from the surprising differences between Italy and Australia that Chiara discovered on her visit, she still maintains that she ‘became even more Italian’ through visiting. Like the other young people I interviewed, Chiara distinguishes between Italians in Australia and Italians in Italy: They're living in a country surrounded by Australian countryside, Australian rules and Australian ways and they’re allowed a small percentage of what they can do Italian-wise and most of the times it's behind their own walls at home. You could find a hundred-year-old Italian lady over here but there’d be some part of her that would still be doing Australian ways. Like Simon Botteon, Chiara believes that an interest in one’s back-

ground is ‘handed down’. Chiara wants to ‘bring up’ her daughter as ‘Italian’:

She gets talked to in Italian by my parents . . . We’re Catholic as well and she'll be brought up that way. And it’s Nonna and Nonno and all those sorts of things, as much Italian as we can do at this stage. When she gets older I want her to go to Italian classes because I want to keep it in the family a little bit down the line and hopefully she'll keep it a little bit down the line as well.

Chiara’s intention to raise her family to be Italian extends to her husband: ‘My husband is Australian and I’m converting him to Italian. He loves Italian, he loves being pampered by my mother and dinner on Sundays and he wants his daughter brought up exactly the same way’.

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Chiara’s parents do not keep in contact with the other San Fiorese in Perth. Chiara believes that the reason her father does not participate in clubs like Laguna is because they are ‘too Australianised’. In addition, Chiara described her father as ‘not really into crowds and people’. According to the membership books, Emilio had been a member of Laguna for twelve months, in 1986. Chiara had never heard of the Trevisani Association.

Chiara’s visit to Italy was very important to her father and he was very happy that she went: I didn’t realise at visit. Not until I says, ‘I rang your childhood and he

the time that it was important for my dad that I got older, and now, looking back. And when he auntie the other day’ and he’s talking about his wants me to give him photos to send over, for him

it’s important.

Emilio rings his sister, Santina, and brother, Claudio, at Christmas and Easter. On her return, Chiara wrote to everyone a few times, but as no

one wrote back she stopped. Like most of the people I interviewed, Chiara expressed some disappointment at the apparent scant regard her relatives showed for her by their failure to keep in contact. Linda Benato was born in 1970, the youngest child of Renso and Alessia Benato. She made her first visit to San Fior with her whole family when she was four years old. The second time she went was in 1986, when she was sixteen, with her mother, her aunt and a cousin.

Linda thoroughly enjoyed the visit and had a great time going out with her (Australian) cousin. Like Chiara Gardin, Linda experienced more

freedom in Italy because ‘everyone goes out with their relatives so you can go out when you're younger’. Part of this perceived freedom is a factor of the difference between small town and suburban lifestyle. Linda’s cousins in Australia live in different suburbs and can not meet each other nearly as easily as do people in San Fior. Because of the frequency of her parents’ visits, however, Linda has grown up knowing a great deal about, ‘what visiting Italy is like’. Preparing for departure in 1986, her mother, Alessia, lectured her on

what to pack: ‘Before leaving Mum warned me what clothes to bring. She said to me, “You can’t be yourself or you won't be accepted. They'll look at you and say, Oh! What have we got here?” Linda knows very little about the history of San Fior and her parents’ emigration to

Australia. Like Chiara and John, she had not heard of either the detti or

the straccivendoli and explained that her parents only tell her about her relatives, not about the history. Linda’s third visit to San Fior was in 1988 with her mother and two

of her aunts and her cousin, Liz. The five women went on a tour of

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Europe before stopping in San Fior for six weeks. 1 met them on this visit, and Linda and Liz and I went on a Trevisani Association day tour. Linda enjoyed the 1988 visit to San Fior even more than the previous one: ‘That time was even better. We had more freedom, we went out a lot, at night, down to the beach . . . Caught the train here and there’. The visit was not all roses, however, and Linda had much to say about the negative side of life in San Fior: ‘They all gossip and everything. They know what you're doing before you know yourself. They're all wide-eyed and listen out for everything’. In addition, Linda described her relatives conception of Australia as ignorant: ‘They think Australia is primitive . .. When I was there in 1986 one of the cousins asked if we had sun and wind here. He was joking but he was saying that we have nothing. They think there’s all kangaroos on the road’. There were also a number of things Linda said she ‘loved’ about Italy. Linda was impressed by the much lower emphasis on drinking alcohol among youth in Italy and the greater mixing between the sexes: ‘Everything, the way of life. It’s so different, there are so many things to do there. They really enjoy themselves, spend their money and make themselves look good. And I love how they do their siesta after lunch’. When | interviewed Linda in 1991, she was planning a tour of Europe with an Australian girlfriend that included a visit to Italy to stay in her parents’ apartment in Conegliano. She was apprehensive about the visit because it was the first time she was going without her parents: ‘I’m worried some relatives might not be interested at all. When people come here from Italy, we go all out. When we go there they don’t. You have to go and see them’. Linda and her friend plan to travel around Europe for three months before returning to England, where one of Linda's brothers is working. From there she will travel to Conegliano and visit her relatives in San Fior. Linda hopes to learn Italian fluently and intends to discover what it’s like to live there rather than to just be a tourist: Mum wants me to dress nice. I know that I can’t really, because, how

can I? I’m backpacking. I don’t She wanted me to go to Italy Make sure you look nice and They all dress up there, even don’t like. I hate dressing up. also wear too much make-up. Linda’s ‘Italian adventure’,

have money or clothes, so stuff them. first and bring all these nice clothes. everything. It drives me up the wall. going shopping. That's one thing I I like to be casual all the time. They

as she describes it, is similar to John

Tonos’ in that Linda is interested in working there: ‘Things are bad here [in Perth] job-wise so I thought | might as well go, spread my wings’. One of Linda's brothers is working in Queensland, the other is

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living in England. The fact that migration is an option for these youth echoes their ancestors’ experience of migrating to work and suggests a cultural pattern as well as a confidence created by upward social mobility. The

fact that Linda is a single woman,

however,

did cause her

relatives some concern. One aunt in San Fior was not happy that Linda was visiting on her own and told her mother and aunt that they should not let her come. Linda explained: ‘She's worried about the drugs and boys’. This aunt feels she will have to be responsible for Linda and is not happy about the challenge. I found out later that Linda ended up getting a nannying job in London, not very different to the jobs her female emigrant ancestors had in Italy. In 1992, while Linda was in Italy, her mother travelled to meet her there and her cousin, Liz, and

her husband also visited briefly.

When I spoke to them in 1991, Renso and Alessia, although nervous

about Linda’s impending departure, were very happy that she was going. Renso described Italy as the ‘centre’ of his children’s travels abroad: ‘Italy is important to them because they know where to go. From there they can go all around, all over the place. That will be the centre’. Renso’s description of San Fior as the centre implies that the town is the locus from which pilgrimages can be made. Renso echoed Ettore Botteon’s view that visits to Italy were the ‘inheritance’ he left his children: ‘They all got Italian passports now too, they born here but they got Italian passports. So I think there is a feeling .. . they know that they are Italian from origin. That's important to me, that’s why I say I value this more than the other money’. Renso and Alessia both hope their children will maintain connections with their relatives in Italy. Linda,

like John Tonos, is undecided

about where

she wants to

settle and believes ‘marriage will decide’ for her. Linda’s return to Italy is not unlike Simon Botteon’s visit at eighteen years of age when he was sent to sveglia fuori (sort oneself out). Linda confided to me that her mother would love to swap her with her cousin, Liz, ‘who is mar-

ried and all “set up”... If I find somebody over there, I'll stay. I wouldn't mind it. Mum thinks I might end up like Clare Zamin. I know Clare. Hopefully she can help me with the language’. Linda can expect support from Clare Zamin, just as their parents supported each other when they migrated to Australia. Linda believes that if she marries an Italian her mother will move to Italy to live: ‘Dad is happy visiting every few

years; Mum likes to go every year’.

Linda’s interest in Italy contrasts with her total disinterest in Laguna and Italians in Australia. Linda’s mother is a very active member of Laguna and her father enjoys attending, but, due to work commitments, frequents the club less than his wife does. Linda described Laguna as ‘a

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wog joint! [laughs]. A bocce club. I don’t like going there, it’s too “woggy”, too “Italiany”. Everything about it’. Linda then proceeded to differentiate between ‘types’ of second generation Italians in terms of the suburbs they live in: People .. . are different . . . [in] the way they dress. People up there {in the northern suburbs] wear a lot of gold, they’re more ‘woggy’. It's the area, there are more Italians up there. They have hotted-up cars. The guys with long hair, pushed back and dark and with lots of gold on and they pull their jeans right up to their waist. The girls with heaps of make-up and gold. They’re not like real Italians [in Italy] who are much better, especially the guys. Italians here [in Australia] are definitely different to Italians over there [in Italy].

Linda’s description of ‘woggy’ second generation Italians fits the stereotypical description of southern Italians, which contrasts with her description of northern Italians who, she says, are ‘less woggy’. Linda has translated the North-South distinction into an Australian locality, corresponding to the differential prestige and socio-economic status of the suburbs she mentions. The Benato family members maintain regular contact with relatives in Italy. Owning an apartment there is an extra tie to the place. Linda described her part in ‘keeping in touch’: ‘I write on the end of Mum's letters .. . We're hopeless writers. We ring more often. There’s always phone calls to Italy on the phone bill. Probably we ring once a month to different people, take it in turns. They don’t often ring here, unless they need something. We swap photos, especially weddings’.

Rites of Passage Simon Botteon told me a story of what happened during a visit to San Fior:

While I was in Italy by myself, one Sunday cousin and he noticed that there were two were definitely not from that area and they what he told me. That’s how he phrased

I went to church with my new girls there, and they weren't Australian. That's it. So we thought, since

there are two of them, we’ll make an attempt to find out who they are, so we

followed them home

after church, and we remembered

for next time. Not long after, we saw them in Conegliano. They were catching a bus and we were driving ... so we offered them a lift. What smart boys we are. We are Botteons! They get in and we say, we saw you in church, are you going to San Fior? We conversed a little bit and we asked them their names and it tumed out that

they’re bloody Botteons, from Argentina. We're related. And I said

Second Generation Visitors ‘But I’m a

287

Botteon and I’m from Australia’, and my cousin said, ‘I'ma

Botteon and I’m from here’. . . You see the area is the homing area— Castello, San Fior, di Sotto, Scomigo, Colle, Godega—that area, then

Conegliano and Vittorio Veneto. And at any one stage you'll always meet

someone

there

from

somewhere

else, whether

its Western

Australia, the Eastern States or Canada, Argentina ... We meet up with people over there [in San Fior] that we wouldn't meet up with here [in Perth].

Simon refers to San Fior and its neighbouring towns as ‘the homing area’. The word, homing, indicates the ability to return home after travelling great distances, as homing pigeons do. It also implies that one is ‘taught’ to return. Visits to San Fior made by second generation migrants represent a rite of passage through which two kinds of cultural knowledge—consociate and popular—are gained. Consociate knowledge is what children learn about their ancestry. Popular knowledge is gained through their experience of living and travelling in Italy. The second generation visit experiences reveal that a visit to San Fior results in a transformation of identity. The children of the migrants establish ties to their parents’ home town and consequently develop an awareness about their ethnic identity. The experiences and knowledge gained from their visits influences what it means to them to ‘be’ Italian in Australia. The migrants want their children to ‘know’ their ancestral home and to ‘be known’ by their townspeople. All the second generation informants I spoke to were encouraged by their parents to ‘return’ to visit San Fior. Ettore Botteon believes he has taught his children ‘the way’ to San Fior and describes the apartment he bought for them to stay in as ‘their inheritance’. Alessia Benato explained that she has ‘handed down’ her desire to visit San Fior to her children. The Benato children’s visits to Italy are financed by their parents. Renso Benato told me that he would be a millionaire if he had saved the money he has spent sending his children to San Fior, yet he described it as the ‘best money I can spend’. Paolo and Rita Camerin wanted to pay for their son to visit Italy as a graduation gift. First generation migrants’ feel it is their duty to nurture their children’s italianita and one way of doing this is by encouraging them to visit Italy. Visits made by the second generation are described as ‘returns’. The Australian-born who have visited San Fior for their first time are said to have ‘been back’ to San Fior. They are ‘called back’ to San Fior via their parents’ campanilismo or sense of spatial self-identity, proof that the knell of the bell-tower continues to have a powerful effect, even on

townspeople who are permanently settled abroad. The home town represents the ‘cultural source’ and the migrants who visit the place are

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culturally ‘renewed’. That San Fior is seen as the ‘cultural source’ means that it represents the ‘right way to be’ to San Fiorese abroad. Simon Botteon, who, according to his parents and paesani, was failing to be and act as a proper San Fiorese, was actually ‘sent back’ to San Fior as a type of punitive and educational measure. Similarly, Linda Benato was ‘going back’ to live in Italy, as she explained, ‘to become more independent ... To grow up’. She had not yet begun the process of sistemazione, and her parents felt she needed to do some ‘sorting out’. I have argued that the first return visit that emigrants make with their family is about redemption—making up for not repatriating. It is important that children are brought on these trips because they are a symbol of a successful migration, a successful sistemazione. Once the children become adults, it is equally important for them to return so that they may undergo a transformation in their identification with Italy brought about through ‘knowing’ their relatives and their parents’ birthplace and ‘knowing’ Italy. This knowledge is expected to change them,

raising their consciousness

of their Italian identity.

This con-

sciousness is as important to their lives in Australia as it is to their development of ties to San Fior. Every parent | interviewed described their children as having become ‘more Italian’ after visiting San Fior. Rico Tonos believes his son, John,

changed from being a ‘rough’ (read un-cultured) Australian to an ‘Italian’, and his son agrees. Visits to San Fior for all second generation informants resulted in a transformation of identity. All said that their visit ‘made them more Italian’, and yet they insist that Italians in Australia are different from Italians in Italy. They also differentiate themselves from Australian-born southern Italian youth. There are a variety of perceived ‘types’ of Italians and the visit home increases the

second generation's awareness of the differences between being ‘Italian’

in Australia and being ‘Italian’ in Italy. Australian-born Italians share an experience of growing up in Australia. However, the older youth experienced more anti-Italian sentiment during their childhood than did the younger. Unlike their elders, the generation born after 1960 grew up with an increasingly positive image of Italy. Danny and Mark Zamin recall trying to hide their ethnic identity while at school in the 1970s and yet in the 1990s they employed this identity as a sales pitch in their boutique. Despite the fact that relations between northerners and southerners are less antagonistic in Australia than they are in Italy, all youth differentiate between northern and southern Italians. They are keenly aware that their ancestry is northern and their visits to Italy augment their sense of being different from southerners. Second generation interviewees identified at least three different ‘types’ of Italians in their

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generation: Ugo Camerin and Linda Benato described the ‘woggy goldchained, permed hair Italian’; and Danny and Mark explained that they ‘all dress the same’. The younger second generation interviewees

differentiated themselves from these Italians, who were described as ‘mainly southerners’. At the same time, all second generation inter-

viewees identified themselves as Italo-Australians or Australians with Italian ancestry. The third ‘type’ of Italians were the ‘real’ Italians in Italy, who were described as being very different from Italians in Australia. The second generation visitors’ return visits and consequent trans-

formation does not result in a rejection of their Australian identity. That is, they do not begin to identify entirely as ‘Italian’. As is clear from their visit experiences, certain aspects of the Italian lifestyle were highly regarded by youth, while others were not. Getting to know their relatives was perhaps the most important outcome of visiting San Fior. However, many second generation visitors bemoaned the fact that their same-age cousins virtually ignored them. Some spoke of ‘being offended’ by the apparent lack of interest that their relatives showed them. Michael Zamin explained that ‘the older ones are interested and the younger ones are not even vaguely interested’. The scant regard shown by ‘the younger ones’ can be explained in terms of their lack of shared consociate experience. A central part of the emigrant’s identity rests in ties to homeland. Once emigration was no longer a necessity, the townspeople in Italy ceased depending on their emigrant relatives. While they may know very little about the history of their parents’ home towns, all Australian-born youth are taught about their kin and grow up looking forward to visiting. The young second generation individuals I spoke to in Perth were, without exception, keen to visit Italy in the future. Given the negative impression San Fiorese townspeople have of Australia, their children do not generally grow up hoping one day to visit. Comparison was invariably made by people living in Perth between the way a visitor from San Fior is treated in Perth to the way visitors from Perth are treated in San Fior. The relative who comes to Australia is celebrated and doted upon. Children of emigrants are referred to by the townspeople as figli d’italiani—children of Italians. This label defines the ‘place’ of visiting youth in the town. They ‘belong’ in so far as they are descendants of the town, but they are still constructed as ‘other’. The longer they stay in the town, the more ‘Italian’ they are perceived to become. A distinction is drawn between those who visit ‘on holiday’, for a short period of time, and those who ‘live’ in the town for an extended period. The ability to speak or, at least, understand the language was a significant factor in the development of close interpersonal relation-

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ships between visiting youth and their relations. Language represents an important extension of both consociate and popular cultural knowledge. Language is paramount to acceptance and is an important factor in differentiating insiders from outsiders. An ability to comprehend the dialect is important to gaining acceptance in the town. A working knowledge of standard Italian is a great help while touring but, although preferable to no language ability at all, tends to reinforce

one’s outsider status in the town.!°

The majority of second generation ‘San Fiorese’ are more familiar with the Trevisano dialect, which they learn from their parents at home, than they are with standard Italian. Dorothy Botteon, a non-lItalian, decided not to stay with her husband Simon's relatives because she could not speak the language. If non-Italians make an effort to learn the language they are rewarded with acceptance. Piero Santolo’s wife,

Doris, decided to learn standard Italian after their first visit to San Fior

and this has made their subsequent visits much more enjoyable. Visits are recognised as the greatest incentive for learning the language and youth often return with a desire to improve their Italian language skills. Italian-speaking children are a source of great pride for their emigrant parents. A child’s language skills are important proof of connections to the home town and of not ‘forgetting’ their heritage. Language is an undeniable marker of ethnicity. Everyone I interviewed had something to say about the Italian dress code. Italian clothes were seen by migrants and their children alike as clear markers of identity. Shopping sprees featured in discussions as an important part of the visitor’ itinerary. The Italian fashion products that visitors bring back to Australia reflect their identification with popular, marketable Italy more than with the Italy of San Fior. In the town, most visitors reported that they were made to feel culturally inferior because of their out-of-fashion wardrobe. The visitors often defended their own dress style by advocating the freer lifestyle of Australia. As with dress code, the emigrants found life in San Fior to be much more restrictive than life in Australia. The San Fiorese migrants of both generations complained about the gossip and smalltown mentality of the locals. (Often, the gossip was thought to have been about the Australians’ inferior dress standard.)

Through the experience of the visit, the second generation developed their own discourse on migration. Besides learning about consociate and popular culture they also became aware of the tensions inherent in visits. John Tonos’ sister, Lidia, was upset by the tug-of-war she found herself in regarding which uncle she should stay with. Not all youth had difficulty in finding a place to stay, but everyone, without exception, bemoaned the lack of privacy and the way they were scrutinised

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by relatives and other townspeople. The young women especially were sensitive to standards of grooming and deportment. All second generation informants were disappointed, and at times amused, by the stereotyped image their kin and friends in San Fior had of Australia. The townspeople’s image of Australia was often mentioned in comparison to their fervour for Italy. Like their parents, second generation visitors were constantly asked if they would prefer to live in Italy. Michael Zamin joked with his uncle about which country had the ‘sacred sand’. Through these experiences they are sensitised to the tensions their parents face. John Tonos was disappointed by the lukewarm welcome his father received from old school friends. What many of the second generation visitors do not realise, however, is just how new the townspeople’ pride in Italy is. In general, those who began visiting after the 1960s are unaware that San Fior’s industrialisation and consequent economic advancement is only recent. The amount of time second generation visitors spend in the town with their relatives determines their consociate level of experience. For most of them, visiting Italy is not simply about meeting relatives. For many, a visit to San Fior takes little more time than a visit to a shrine. Their brief stop-over in the home town is just one small part of a busy touring and shopping schedule. Alfio, Ugo Camerin’s brother, for example, dropped in on his relatives for a few days while he was touring Europe with two non-ltalian friends. The itinerary of the organised Trevisani Association visits for second generation youth, at subsidised cost, includes time for pursuit of both consociate and popular cultural knowledge. Trips to Treviso have, to date, only been organised in the eastern states of Australia. I met four

groups in Treviso while I was there. Their itinerary included visiting

the more ‘famous’ sites in northern Italy (Venice, Lake Garda, Verona, Padua, Vicenza, Treviso) before going ‘back’ to their ‘home towns’ to meet and stay with their relatives. These trips are, from all accounts,

extremely successful. If return visits to Italy are important to the construction of the emigrants’ Italo-Australian identity, can an Italo-Australian identity be constructed independently of return visits? Mrs Giacin’s sons belong to the informal youth network that exists in Perth. Their spouses, whom they met frequenting the network, are all second generation Italians. The Giacin’s identify as Italian-Australians despite the fact that they have never been to their parents’ home town, and are not members of Laguna or the AIM. Visiting Italy is not the only way second generation migrants become conscious of their italianita, but it appears to be a

sure way.

9 Rivalry and Repatriation

When they returned to Treviso after the initial stay in Australia, the close husband-wife relationship, now established over a number of years, made family interference intolerable. None wished to establish or live in an extended household. Once the honeymoon of the family reunion, the presents, and the conspicuous consumption was over, disillusionment accompanied

the realization that as unskilled

workers in Treviso they could not earn enough to live in the manner to which they had become accustomed in Australia. Their standard of living would have been lower than that of their skilled compatriots in Italy. It was at this stage that they re-migrated, now with a positive attitude, to a country they already knew. The trip to Treviso and the return to Australia assumed the importance of a rite de passage.

Huber’s explanation of why many of the Trevisani migrants she studied decided to return to Australia after their first return visit to Italy is supported by my own findings. Most visitors returning to San Fior are seen as culturally poor by those townspeople who stayed behind in San Fior. The townspeople’ sense of ‘cultural superiority’ is constructed in relation to the migrants’ ascribed ‘cultural poverty’. In this way, the internal divisions and rivalries between the San Fiorese actually contribute to San Fior’s integrity and collective vitality. ——

I met Tomaso Conti in San Fior in 1989. I had learnt about this Australian returnee from his grandson, Lauro, who described his

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grandfather's life to me with great pride. Lauro arranged for me to meet his grandfather, making me wait for a time when Tomaso’s health was good. The day we talked, Tomaso was calm and clear in his thinking and was happy to reminisce about the three years he had lived in Perth. Tomaso had travelled to Australia in 1950 with the second group of men (including his cousin, Giacomo Bottan) organised through Franco Zamin. They were all headed for Franco's timber mill. Tomaso was already married when he migrated. His wife, Giacinta, remained in Italy. Tomaso explained that the motive for his emigration was economic. Although work was available, salaries were rarely paid. With a young family to care for, Tomaso needed a steady income.

Although he was often not paid adequately for his work, Tomaso described his job in Italy, prior to departure, as having been much better than the type of employment he found in Perth. On arrival in Fremantle, he distinctly remembers asking the Italians who came to meet him what they were earning. Their answer was ‘seven pounds a week.

When

I heard

other

1950 emigrants.

this,

I wanted

to throw

myself into

the

sea,

because, apart from the fact that 1 always earned more . . . 1 would be working sotto Franco’. Tomaso decided not to accept work in the mill even though Franco had called him out. He felt the type of work and wages were ‘beneath him’. Tomaso was, in fact, much better off financially than many of the He could, for example,

afford his own

fare,

£250, without having to borrow money. In retrospect, Tomaso considered his emigration to Australia a mistake, although there had been a time when he had wanted to settle there permanently. He describes his decision to emigrate in a way that places blame on Franco Zamin who, according to Tomaso, ‘duped’ him into leaving: ‘Franco told me about Australia in a manner that made me desire to go. He made it out to be easier, not better, but easier than it was’.

Before departing, Tomaso had intentions of calling his family to

Australia. As was the custom of the town, Tomaso thought he would

emigrate alone first, to prepare a home for his family. Before he had

achieved all he had set out to, his wife, Giacinta, became gravely ill

and Tomaso had to return. Giacinta died soon after. Tomaso attempted to defend both his migration and his repatriation by insisting that, if he had remained in Australia he would have been successful, and, if he

had remained in Italy, without ‘wasting’ three years of his life in Aus-

tralia, he would have been more successful than he had been. In repat-

riating to Italy, Tomaso believes he ‘missed a great opportunity’. Tomaso’ desire to remain in Australia appears to contradict his initial intention to return. It is important to consider the time period of

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Tomaso’s return to Italy. The prospects in Italy in 1953, when Tomaso returned, were not as good as they were in Australia. Tomaso told me several times during our conversation that if he had stayed in Australia he could have worked privately as his own boss, a state of affairs that is highly valued in San Fior. In Italy, however, Tomaso has always worked as an employee. Tomaso arrived in Australia the same year as Franco’ fiancée, Maria. Tomaso maintains that, as a favour to Franco, he wrote to Maria trying

to convince her to come to Australia to marry Franco. Tomaso recalled that Maria cried when she arrived and wanted to return to Italy. Tomaso said he persuaded her to stay. He was the best man at their wedding, and therefore he and Franco become compare. Given Franco Zamin’s fame, being his compare would have been an honour. Tomaso described how he and Franco's friendship had slowly deteriorated, due, in part, to Franco's failure to maintain the promise of a wage agreed upon in Italy. Tomaso refused to board at Franco's mill and was keen to prove that his migration had been successful without Franco’ help. Tomaso attempted to distance himself from the other paesani by seeking employment on his own. In this respect, Tomaso’s story resembled that of Rico Tonos. Neither man needed to leave San Fior because they both had employment in Italy. Both men say their migration to Australia caused a loss in their social status. In the course of the interview, Tomaso highlighted those aspects of his migration experience that differentiated him from the average San Fiorese migrant. He explained to me how he had found a factory job ‘where mainly Australians worked’ and where the work ‘was lighter’ than the manual labour of the mill. He had been treated ‘like a son’ by his Australian landlady who would bring him tea and biscuits; he had been the only San Fiorese who had attended night-school to learn English; his boss was going to give him control of the work-floor when Tomaso’ language ability improved; and, finally, when he left to return to Italy, his boss had offered to pay his return fare if he decided to come back to Australia. While there were some things about Australia that Tomaso liked, there were many he disliked. He remembers reading anti-Italian propaganda in Australian papers during the post-war period. He would ‘always remember the title of one article—‘Australians beware because you have a migrant at your back’. Although he said he enjoyed the ‘free and easy lifestyle of ‘Australians’, Tomaso explained that there were many differences that distinguished Australians from northern Italians: ‘They work less, drink beer, sleep in on Sunday, only do as much as is needed. This is the description of the true Australian. The North Italian is different’.

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Tomaso had been very keen eventually to return to Australia and he became emotional when he recounted his departure from the port at Fremantle: ‘Over one hundred people saw me off’. At the end of our interview Tomaso showed me a photo album containing photos sent to him from paesani in Perth. Many of the photos were taken at Laguna. Tomaso described the San Fiorese in Australia as ‘a very close community’.

I interviewed Stefano Boaro and Luis Botteon at Stefanos home in Castello Roganzuolo in 1989. Tomaso Conti had given me their names and addresses. Stefano comes from a family of ten siblings; he and his brother, Silvio, are the youngest sons. Lucia, an older sister, emigrated to Australia in 1951 after marrying Nicolo Santolo, who had returned to San Fior to ‘find a wife’ in 1947. Lucia called down her two younger brothers in 1952. Stefano recalled their arrival in Perth. Lucia and her brother-in-law, Francesco Santolo, met them. Francesco's son, Piero,

helped the brothers find work. First they travelled about four hundred kilometres south to Manjimup and worked for the Bunnings timber company for eight months. They then travelled north of Perth to work on the railroads but this ‘dog’s job’ lasted only four weeks. They then

returned to Perth, and Piero again found them work, this time in the

market gardens, where they worked from 3 a.m. to 10 a.m. Stefano eventually found a day job working as a gardener at an open-air cinema in Subiaco. After only a short time, his employer asked him if he would like to work in the camera booth and Stefano agreed. He worked there for eight years until the cinema was closed. At this point in the interview, Luis Botteon arrived and Stefano, visibly enjoying the opportunity to reminisce, warmly invited Luis into the conversation. Luis was, however, curious about my motives for wanting to interview them. He was concerned that I had been sent by the Australian government to investigate pension claims and wanted to know if other students were conducting research around Italy. Stefano scoffed at Luis’ fears and after a glass of Stefanos homemade wine, Luis appeared to forget them entirely. Luis was called to Australia by his brother, Ettore Botteon, in 1952. Going to Australia was, for Luis, a way to avoid doing his military service. On arrival, Luis worked for Franco Zamin for two years before taking a labouring job with a building company. He eventually returned to work for Franco because, being single and ill at ease in English, he ‘preferred the company of Franco's men, my paesani’. Luis returned to Italy in 1960. Stefano and Luis saw each other occasionally at social gatherings in Perth, but only really became close friends on their return to Italy. When I asked them why they had emigrated, they both recalled the

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massive unemployment in Treviso. They were both born in Castello Roganzuolo and, in accordance with government policy, because their families owned land, they were unable to obtain factory jobs. Landless peasants were hired before landed peasants, despite the fact that very few could make a living off the land.? Both men maintained that at the time of their departure there were no other emigration choices. Stefano explained: ‘Those who remained in Italy were more fortunate because later they were able to migrate to closer countries with the possibility of visiting Italy several times a year’. Stefano’ wife, Gianna, arrived shortly after Luis. She sat listening to the men recount their stories and it was difficult for me to find a way

of including her in the conversation. At the first chance I could, I

asked her if she had been in Australia. Gianna explained that her sister had married a Venetian in Perth by proxy. This Venetian was a good friend of Stefanos and he gave Stefano her address and they began writing to each other: ‘When my sister and I left for Australia, the boats were full of proxy brides. In those times there was a scarcity of work so the men migrated, which meant there was a lack of eligible young men in Italy’. Gianna, originally from the Abruzzi, married Stefano by proxy. Luis had chosen to return to Italy to find a bride. He explained that, at that time, ‘there was the choice of paying for a wife to travel to Australia or paying one’s own passage home to Italy. It was an either or’. Luis had decided to return to Italy in 1960, and, shortly after his arrival, had met and married his wife, Franca, who joined us

at this point and seemed to inspire Luis to begin speaking in English,

which he did rather well. Luis told us, in English, that Franca had not

wanted to go to Australia so he had ‘got stuck’ in Italy. All Franca knew of English was the word ‘yes’, which she kept repeating, as Luis spoke. It seemed she was trying to put him off. Franca obviously felt left out of the conversation because she had never been to Australia. Luis continued to speak over his wife's ‘yeses’ until they were both practically shouting. The situation was very comical and ended in laughter. Luis then introduced the question of Australian pensions for exmigrants. At that time Australia had offered to contribute half the amount, if the Italian government was prepared to meet the other half of the cost.* Both men began to complain about the way Italy treats its repatriates. Stefano recounted how, due to his Australian citizenship, he had been unable to work upon his return in 1969. Luis had not experienced this difficulty because on his return he set himself up in private business and automatically regained his Italian citizenship after living in Italy for two years. Luis had actually only intended to visit in 1960. He had bought a return air-fare and had wanted to surprise his parents. When he arrived,

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however, he was shocked at how greatly things had changed. He had expected to find the miseria he had left: They had all become rich! Only I, who had made many sacrifices in Australia, had become poor in comparison to them. So, despite the fact that I had a return ticket, I decided to stay. I thought, ‘What am I going back to Australia for, to become poorer? I'll stay here and become rich like them’. You see, I had seen the boy who, when I left,

was the poorest boy in the town, and he owned a truck. So, I sold my house in Australia and bought myself a truck, only to discover that no one in Italy owned anything they had, it was all hire-purchase or loans. For example, that poor boy was driving a truck he bought on a loan from the bank by mortgaging his uncle’s house! I then understood that I had made a mistake, I should have returned to Australia. Now it’s too late, after so many years and so many sacrifices. I didn’t expect to find everyone so well off—so apparently well off—so I sold up in Australia and renounced my ticket and bought a truck . . . many times I’ve cursed that day.

Luiss description of his return clearly reveals the way emigrants decided where they would be better placed by comparing themselves to their townspeople. The notion of relative deprivation is a key to understanding why and where emigrants chose to settle.* Luis compared himself to the ‘poorest boy in the town’ and, despite owning a house in Australia, if the poorest boy in San Fior owned a truck, Luis concluded that life must be better in San Fior. I asked Stefano about his motives for returning to San Fior. His

response does not contain references to whether the San Fiorese in Italy were better off than those in Perth. Stefano, instead, refers to his

strong connections to place: ‘When

I arrived in Australia, Nicolo

Santolo said to me, “take an Aborigine from the north, bring her to the city, give her food, drink, [clothes and so on] and let her free, she will

return to the north, to her people . . . you Italians are the same”. Both men agreed that everyone, whatever their background, always has the desire to return to their birthplace. Gianna giggled at the two men, whom she called ‘philosophers’, and proceeded to answer my question from her point of view: ‘At a certain point we thought we'd take a holiday in Italy to see whether we wanted to remain or return. We only had one child, still young, not having had time to plant roots, so we had the choice without affecting anyone negatively’. Stefano added that they, like Luis, had bought return air-fares: ‘Eight months passed before I decided to stay, it was a difficult decision’. Gianna described how difficult their repatriation had been: ‘After ten or fifteen years of Australia, life here was different, very different.

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The differences in customs and lifestyle were a problem’. Franca interjected: ‘I have no one there, I don’t feel anything for Australia’. She became angry with everyone for speaking badly of Italy. Franca’s outburst was fuel to the fire, and Stefano used it as an example of how Italians in Italy do not understand the ex-migrant: On return the people said that us ex-Australians had sun-stroke, especially when we whinged about certain things in Italy that we found different to Australia. The people here couldn't understand us and said we were slightly ill ... When I went to the post office I joined a queue but there was no queue. The others just went before me, so they told me I had sun-stroke.

Luis echoed his friend’s views: ‘They told us we were asleep, that we should wake up. Instead they needed to go and get sun-stroke to learn some manners how to be civilised. Learn how to queue’. Their paesani in Italy were not about to accept that the ex-migrants were more civilised than themselves. They had a different value system by which Luis and Stefano’s actions were interpreted as somehow foolish or impoverished. The five of us talked on until way past midnight. I had run out of tapes by 10 p.m. Before I left, Stefano and Luis thanked me for visiting them and told me how much they had enjoyed remembering their time in Australia. Although the ex-migrants in San Fior do not hold annual dinners or festas like the migrants in Tarzo, they do recognise each other as having had similar experiences. What they share most with each other and where they are most different from other townspeople is the interest they show in Australian visitors. Stefano and Luis said they went out of their way to meet Australians. This was certainly the case with the Gardin family, who sought me out and invited me into their homes without my requesting an interview. I interviewed Claudio Gardin and his wife, Augusta, and their only daughter, Giulia, in their beautiful house in San Fior in 1989. Claudio

began his description of his family’s migration with a joke about how Franco Zamin ‘called everyone down’. He then explained that Franco had called down Claudio’ compare Michele Perin, in 1950. Michele called Claudio in 1951. Claudio maintains that if there had been work for him in Italy he would never have migrated to Australia. Claudio had emigrated on a government scheme as he could not afford the passage. However, his cousin, Fulvio Gardin, had been sponsored by Franco Zamin in 1950. Claudio’s first job was in Manjimup, in the south-west of Western Australia, on a two-year contract in a timber mill. He worked there for a while, receiving only £2 a week,

out of which he had to pay for board and food. He could not save any

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money and so he ‘ran away to Perth to work in my profession as a shoe-maker’. Claudio found a job in a Perth factory but his Manjimup employer eventually traced him: ‘With this I had to speak to the manager and he said: “You're here, you stay here, I'll worry about the rest”. So I was able to keep my job’. Claudio returned to Italy in 1960, ‘for a holiday’ and met and married Augusta. The couple returned to Australia that same year and their daughter Giulia was born in 1964. They repatriated to San Fior in 1968. When I asked Claudio if it had always been his intention to return to San Fior he said: ‘It is always your intention to return. | always thought of returning because I was born here. However, the best years of my life I passed in Australia. I've always said this. My youth, from age twenty to forty. I liked the way of life and I was always treated very well’. Before bringing Augusta to Australia, Claudio had already ‘set up’ a house for her. Claudio had only good reports about his time in Australia. He was very proud of his work career and the fact that when he returned to Australia after visiting Italy in 1960, his former employer rang him and offered him a job: ‘I told them I had got married and they told me to bring my wife to work too’. The picture Claudio drew of Australia contrasted greatly with the reports the emigrants in Perth had given me about the non-migrant townspeople’s view of Australia. The ‘snakes, kangaroos and primitives’ image is most significantly debunked with the following story about the Kalamunda hill. Claudio had a motorcycle in Australia. Once, he gave a lift to a young Aboriginal man who was hitch-hiking up the hill. A couple of months later Claudio had a flat tyre and, while pushing the bike up the hill, he suddenly felt the load lessen. He looked behind him to find the same Aboriginal man helping him push his bike. Claudio told him not to worry, that he could manage, but the man insisted and said, ‘Whenever I can help you I will’. Claudio used this story to symbolise his time in Australia: ‘Down there, if you do well by others, they will do well by you. I always worked hard, never thought of bad, always tried to improve my lot, never lost spirit. In three years I built my house. I'll always have fond memories of Australia’. Claudio told me many stories of the way his Australian friends kept their houses open to him and helped him in every way: ‘I was a part of Australia and I still feel such. I remember my Australian friends with much love; they were like brothers. Sadly, we have slowly lost contact over the years’. He remembered Mr Cover, ‘the Valtellinese at Franco’s

mill’, who had taught him to speak English. Mr Federici, another man

from Valtellina who worked for Franco, had visited Claudio and his

family in 1988. Giulia suggested that her father had found more satisfaction in his experiences in Australia than he had from his

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experiences in Italy. Claudio agreed with her saying that if he asked a

favour of an Australian it was always done: ‘Instead, the Italians . . .’,

he laughed. Augusta said that she had liked Australia, but that the language had been ‘a bit of a problem’. Claudio interrupted, saying that he had ‘pushed’ her to become independent and self-reliant: When she had to do overtime and therefore alone, I made no fuss over it and told her that’s to do. She wanted me to wait for her until Instead I told her, ‘I catch the bus alone, so you

catch the bus home what she would have she’d finished work. can too’. In this way,

she was forced to learn to speak English.

Augusta recalled that she kept her job in the shoe factory even after many workers had been laid off: ‘There were three or four Australians and me, they had all worked there for many years and I had just arrived. It was a surprise that they kept me’. Augusta found the work conditions very good and she got on well with her co-workers. Only very rarely did Augusta hear a prejudiced remark and she was not bitter about these because,

young girls’.

Their return

she explained, ‘the offenders were very

to San Fior had been

difficult; both

Claudio

and

Augusta found it hard to ‘settle in’. Claudio said that he regretted leaving Australia where, he said, ‘life is easier. Instead, in Italy, people

trick you’. There were less ‘worries’ in Australia, people were ‘fairer’.

Augusta said her husband returned to Italy with a mentality formed in Australia: ‘not thinking bad of another or that people might hurt him because he trusted people. Instead, here in Italy, the mentality was different’. Claudio returned to San Fior because of a failed business venture. It is clear from their discussion that the family had wanted to become self-employed. Augusta explained that they were not entirely convinced that they really wanted to return to San Fior. Claudio added that if he had wanted to stay, Augusta would have remained happily: My brother Antonio had already returned to Italy and he continued to write telling us to return. Antonio had never really liked Australia because he suffered from the heat, he worked in the bush. Instead

my wife and I always worked in factories. When we returned to Italy we built this house immediately. If we had not built this house we would have returned but we had also reached a certain age, we were not young any more. Immediately on their return to San Fior, Claudio

found a job that

paid slightly higher than his former job in Australia. However, the cost

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of living was also higher: ‘I don’t regret having spent time in Australia, it was a great experience. If you live and die here [in one place], you learn nothing’. Augusta agreed with her husband that living in a different country is a good experience: ‘I’ve never regretted going to Australia, just the opposite. 1 had also worked for seven years in Switzerland. I was used to moving and working’. Giulia pointed out what she felt was an incongruity. She told me that her parents are very strict with her and that, despite the fact that her mother went to Switzerland at the age of eighteen, her parents would not let her travel anywhere, and she was twenty-three. Her mother tried to explain, saying: ‘They were different times. We needed the money. After the war everyone had to migrate because there was unemployment’. Giulia expressed a desire to visit Perth to see where she was born. However, she does not have any particularly strong ties to Australia. Giulia ‘feels she knows’ many people in Australia from the stories her parents have told her: ‘There was a great deal of community spirit, and friends often met at organised dances and picnics. This is something that doesn’t occur here’. Claudio helped establish the Italian club in Kalamunda: ‘It had to be called an Agricultural club because of laws prohibiting clubs being Italian. Italians used to play bocce there’. Claudio said that when he retires he would like to return to visit all the places he has been to in Australia. Augusta said she does not have the same desire to visit because, while Claudio was only twenty when he left, and so made

many friends in Australia, she was already twenty-seven and left all her friends behind in Italy. Just as Stefano Boaro and Luis Botteon had done, at the end of the interview Claudio thanked me for visiting his family and told me how much he had enjoyed reminiscing about Australia. A short time after interviewing Claudio, I interviewed Wanda Gardin, his sister-in-law. Wanda lives with her youngest son, Luca, who was born in San Fior the year after Wanda returned to settle in Italy. Wanda’s husband, Antonio Gardin, died in 1972. Wanda began our discussion by explaining the complicated cluster migration of her husband’s extended family. According to Wanda, Claudio emigrated in 1951 in order to avoid doing military service. Her husband, Antonio, emigrated a few months later with his first cousin, Giorgio.

Antonio and Giorgio were compare. Both these men were already married when they emigrated. Wanda and her daughter, Daniela, emigrated to Australia together with Giorgio’ wife, Katia, and her three children, in 1952. Wanda

explained that the women left after their husbands ‘to give the men time to see if they liked the place and to set up some living quarters’.

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Claudio, who was single at the time, helped Antonio and Giorgio build houses for their families to live in. Claudio lived with Wanda and

Antonio until he married.

In 1954, Antonio and Claudio’ brother,

Emilio, emigrated. Giorgios brother, Fulvio, was one of the six men who emigrated in 1950, sponsored by Franco Zamin. He repatriated in 1966. Giorgio called his brother, Enrico (now deceased), in 1954 and a fourth brother, Andrea, in 1956. Andrea lives with his family in Bunbury, 200 kilometres south of Perth.

Wanda lived in Australia for ten years. Although life was hard and ‘there were many sacrifices’, Wanda liked life in Australia: The things that made a woman’ life difficult were the number of men in the house that needed to be kept ... Antonio was always bringing new arrivals home, so I always had a lot of work. The language was not a big problem for me, my husband accompanied me on shopping trips. Gina Santolo accompanied me to any doctor's

appointments . . . My children were happy in Australia.

Wanda describes her repatriation to Italy as ‘incredibly difficult’. After the initial joy of reunion she experienced a ‘coldness’ from her relatives: ‘They treated me as if I'd suffered starvation, as if 1 were a poverina {poor, helpless]’.

Wanda returned to Italy in the early 1960s with her husband and four children, when the economic miracolo was just beginning: ‘People had enough to eat and employment was readily available. People thought themselves very well off and in comparison to their lives before, they were well off’. Wanda said it was ‘ironic’ that the townspeople called her poverina, because the material things they were beginning to afford in Italy, she had been used to in Australia: ‘I was better off than them in Australia, however I never let this weigh on them. | always kept quiet. They never believed me anyway. In their view, I had always suffered hunger in Australia’. The reference to being povera is not so much a reference to material poverty as to cultural poverty. The townspeople viewed Wanda as someone who had been deprived of culture while she was living in Australia and they made no effort to disguise their feelings of superiority. Wanda liked Australia more than her husband and had not wanted to repatriate: ‘1 was used to life there. It didn’t interest me to have relatives near by because you lose contact a bit, being away ... The return to San Fior was extremely difficult ... 1 cried a lot’. Wanda explained that Antonio had always intended to return to San Fior and when his health began to fail he was even more determined: He felt nostalgia for his home town. He came to Australia with the intention to return. I was happy with him. I did not care where |

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was. Australia was not a problem for me. Even from the first day I did not mind living in the bush. It was not easy because initially we were without water. When I arrived in Australia there was no bathroom, we used a tin, but I was happy. In Italy they never had bathrooms either. When I returned to Italy I suffered the cold and so did my children. We had to heat water in the kitchen to wash with.

Returnees like Wanda were in many important ways different from their fellow townspeople because of their experience of migration. Although they did not form a separate group they did share a positive attitude towards Australia, which contrasted with the negative view their townspeople held. Like most other repatriates, on her return to Italy, Wanda had to live with her parents-in-law while her house was being built. Wanda described this time as the most difficult in her life: ‘I wanted to return to Australia but my husband did not. He said we would build a new house, but not even a castle would have made me

happy. Then I became pregnant with my youngest child and so I resigned myself to living in Italy’. The workings of the moral community that is the town are evident in the manner in which Wanda was treated by her relatives: I was used to doing what I wanted and not having people telling me, ‘You have to do this. You have to do that’. Retribution for spending money! I was scrutinised, always under observation, everything | did. I couldn’t swallow this treatment. They would comment on everything—how to bring up your children; how to spend your money. As if I'd come

from I don’t know where. I became closed, |

never felt any affection or acceptance from them any more so I cut off all relations with them. I greeted them and was always polite but even now I never take my problems and secrets to them. I keep to myself, 1 often heard women use the phrase Wanda used, Quello non ero capace mandare git [I couldn't swallow this treatment], when they

referred to things that happened to them over which they felt they had

no control:

The return was very hard and it took me a long time to Initially returning and having to enter the family household in-laws and having to remain always sotto. After two days to leave. If I had arrived and already had my own house

resettle. with my I wanted it would

have been easier. My eldest daughter, Daniela, suffered a lot. [Daniela

was twelve.) She wanted to return to live in Australia with my brother-in-law, Emilio, who is still there. The attitude here was that

people from Australia did not know anything because the children

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could not speak Italian properly. They were ignorant. This was the mentality here of . . . years ago. Just stupid little things but put them all together and it becomes unbearable.

Wanda recounted a number of incidents, still very clear in her memory, which exemplified the main difficulties of her repatriation: My daughter went to buy a can of Coke and my sister came to tell me. I said I knew. She said 1 shouldn’t always let her have her way ... For New Year my friend told me that she was going out to eat and invited me but added, ‘It costs money though’, as if to say I couldn’t afford it. I was hurt .. . Daniela liked to wear rubber boots when it rained but everyone called her ‘Gypsy’. They'd say, ‘Look at that one, she gets around like a Gypsy, you can tell that you've lived like Gypsies’ . . . | used to speak [standard] Italian with my daughter until one day my brother said to me

[in dialect], ‘Where does that

one come from who speaks Italian?’ So I began to speak dialect to her. My daughter had a hard time initially because she couldn't speak any language properly.

Each of these incidents reveals the power of social approval and disapproval on an individual's actions. Wanda’s behaviour was controlled by her relatives’ attitudes. Wanda’s child-rearing practices were monitored. The language her daughter, Daniela, spoke and the clothes she wore were ironically perceived as ‘poor’, and her mother was ‘corrected’ through criticism and gossip. Wanda was made to feel culturally inferior in her behaviour, dress and use of money. Wanda’s relatives and friends

were reacting to the freedom of choice that Wanda was exercising in her day-to-day practices. As has been shown, the reference to dress is a common comparison made by Italians about Australians and is used to highlight their cultural inferiority. Franco Zamin inverted this symbolic competition with his claim that his mother found him ‘well dressed’ on his first visit. When Wanda

dressed Daniela in rubber boots, she was dressing her child

like a poor Gypsy. Reference to dress standards is often used as a gauge of status. Many Australian informants referred to there being fewer class (and by implication, status) differences in Australia than in Italy. Wanda, for example, explained that: In Australia people didn’t criticise you. Even for a wedding in the evening you could wear a cotton dress and no one cared. Here in Italy there is the fashion to wear expensive clothes and jewellery. It didn’t bother me, the dress in Australia. Even on the bus you might see a pin holding a skirt together, it never bothered me. I became settled in there with no problems.

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Wanda told me that she broke all ties with Australia once she returned to Italy because: ‘it is too painful . . . Even now I still feel for Australia. In Australia I felt pit sulla mia terra [more at home in my land]. Now it is a bit confused’. Wanda’s direct statement about her attachment to place is the reverse of what most migrants report. Wanda’s lack of attachment to Italy reflects the sentiments of other women I spoke to who refuse to visit home. Wanda had three more children while living in Australia and she maintains that all her children, including Luca, who was born after her return to Italy, are keen to visit Australia, although none of them had yet done so. Wanda confided that she has no desire to visit Australia because she fears the re-entry to Italy. Wanda directed me to interview Caterina Benato who had visited Australia. She also organised for me to interview her daughter,

Daniela, and

her son, Luca.

Shortly after

these interviews, Luca invited me back to their house to admire some

photos of Australia they had enlarged and framed. He explained that ‘our discussions’ had inspired them to ‘restore these old memories’. When I interviewed her in 1989, Daniela, the eldest daughter of Wanda and Antonio Gardin, said she had settled happily in San Fior with her husband and son. However, at the time of her return from Australia, at twelve years of age, she had had great trouble ‘fitting in’. Daniela explained that the main difficulties were in accepting the ‘ways of the townspeople’. Some of these ways, she recalls, were very trying: ‘My relatives were always poking their noses into our business. I was used to people doing what they wanted, what was best for them. I wasn’t used to relatives influencing and interrupting my life. The family was always saying, “you must do this, do that”.’ Daniela explained that her father's family was not as interfering as her mother’s family because all the Gardin sons had migrated to Australia: At that time the town was very narrowminded, which it still is in certain

respects.

There

is a willingness

to criticise,

to not

accept

people for what they are. Gossip! . . . Gossip is the thing that annoyed me the most. I never noticed it in Australia. It didn’t exist. Some of the criticisms we received on our return were very damaging, especially to my mother, and they were always totally unfounded ... It was the interference from relatives that made life a problem. Perhaps they wanted to help but I interpreted it as bad. Perhaps it was me who had the problem, a difficult age, puberty. Relatives never bothered me in Australia. Apart from the gossip and interference from relatives, there was also jealousy and envy.

Very few families had made visits to San Fior at the time Daniela’s family repatriated. The early 1960s coincides with the time when most

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emigrants in Western Australia were focused on raising their children, when they had neither the time nor the money to visit Italy. The ‘coldness’ and ‘loss of contact’ with relatives that Wanda described are

proof of the rift that can form between relatives with the passage of

time. In addition, the people in San Fior, at the time of Antonio and Wanda’ return, were just beginning to be able to compete with the rich, repatriating americani.

Daniela was struck by the relative lack of space she found in Italy compared to Australia. In her descriptions, she associated this lack of space with her lack of freedom: In Italy there is the sense of limit, in everything, not just in physical

space but also in the life of the community because here everyone knows

each other. Those who

were born here

. . . know

the lives,

deaths and miracles of the whole town, of everyone, of every family. This is the level of mentality in the town.

Daniela reflected on how her father had tried hard to ensure that when they returned to San Fior, they lacked nothing they had been used to in Australia: ‘Perhaps because he realised we did not like living in Italy ... My mother suffered, she was made to feel inferior by her family and friends. My mother, with a young family, had more limitations than her older sisters, who were already sistemate’. Because of her lack of knowledge of Italian, Daniela joined a class two years her junior. In retrospect, Daniela sees this as having been to her advantage. More of her school class continued their education than did those in Daniela’s age cohort: ‘There was almost a generational difference between us. The girls my age led a more traditional lifestyle. I fit in better with the younger girls who were more modern’. Like her mother, Daniela views her experience of living in another country as having had a positive effect on her, making her more liberated. She compared herself to other women in San Fior: I'm more like a city woman, a woman from Conegliano. Whereas women from San Fior are not as emancipated. Liberation exists in Italy but women my age do not do anything about emancipating their mentality. They see liberation around them on television and so on. But they haven't begun to accept and live this . . . This annoys me about them, they do not live their convictions. People are still very concerned about what others will think. This is where I am different, | do what I want.

Daniela was not as affected as her mother was by the influence of her relatives, as she herself points out, because she belonged to a younger generation.

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The experience of emigration meant that Daniela and her mother were treated like outsiders and this has influenced Daniela’ identification with the town: ‘I don’t feel any particular ties to Australia but I don’t feel particularly San Fiorese either. I’m not the average San

Fiorese’. Daniela acknowledged that she had a rather idyllic image of

Australia because her childhood there had been ‘very happy and free’. It took her over a year to settle into life in San Fior: ‘I fought for a year to live with my uncle in Australia. Then, slowly, I settled in. I would have been all right in Australia too’.

Refusal to Visit While the tensions between the emigrants and their townspeople can work to promote campanilismo and group solidarity, clearly conflicts can sometimes be so great that they give rise to division and disaffection. Given the many negative experiences of return, it is not surpris-

ing that there are some emigrants who stop visiting home. A number of migrants referred to people they knew who had never made a return visit. Of these, Don Bottan was the only person I was able to interview. Those people who never visit San Fior were the most difficult people with whom to organise interviews. Piero Santolo and Franco Zamin were initially ‘anti-Italy’ because of the essentially anti-Italian politics of the time in Australia. Yet they made ‘prodigal’ returns. Sofia and Marco Zamin apparently decided never to visit San Fior again after their first visit in 1965. A number of women I spoke to had reached the same decision. Women’s unhappiness is a common stereotype of the reason for a couple’s decision to repatriate. The male emigrants I interviewed often explained other emigrants’ repatriations as due to ‘the wife not liking it in Australia’. From my discussions with migrant women in both Australia and San Fior, it seems often the contrary is true. Like Wanda Gardin, most women preferred life in Australia to life in Italy and spoke at great length about the advantages of the Australian lifestyle. Doris Santolo, Piero’s wife, who

was born in Australia, shared my

surprise: ‘We visited a lot of people who had been in Australia and had returned and the thing that amazed me was that the women were the ones who were happy here and it was the men who wanted to return. They all realised that for women there was a much better life out here’. Every woman I interviewed explained that, while they initially bemoaned the distance from family and the isolation the language barrier created, they have come to appreciate the freedom living in Australia gives them. Those women, who later became part of the San Fior community and Laguna, found in other members the support

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they would normally have received from relatives. Most of these women said they are more than satisfied with their lives in Australia. The most significant difference in lifestyle reported by female informants was the more equal relationship between the sexes in Australia. In addition, the restrictions imposed by living in an extended household were lamented by almost everyone, both men and women. For example, Emma Santolo, in Queensland, explained that she liked

Australia because: ‘When I came here all I had to do was to look after my house and my family and nothing else. Instead, in Italy, I had to work for every family in the house and I had no say in how things should be done’. The female emigrants I interviewed all say they chose to migrate to Australia of their own free will. Many of them arrived as newlyweds or fiancées. Their families were sorry to see them go but emigration was an accepted economic strategy and parents simply awaited their children's eventual return. The men would try to ensure that they had a house for the women to come to, emulating the tradition of the woman

moving to her husband's home after marriage. Many women are not as keen to make frequent return visits as are their husbands because they are caught by their sense of duty to their children and grandchildren living in Australia. This is the main reason people do not repatriate on retirement.

In addition, many

women“lamented

the lack of freedom

they experienced during their return visits to Italy. Many women told me that when they visited, after the excitement of the first reunion had passed and day-to-day living became the norm, they began to miss Australia. While the migration experience involved hard work and isolation for all women, it has also come to be seen as a somewhat liberating one. With the benefit of hindsight and the experience of return visits, the San Fiorese women

who

have settled

permanently in Australia prefer their Australian way of life to the lifestyle of San Fiorese in Italy. Teresina Carniel, in Queensland, vowed she would never visit Italy

again. Sofia Zamin feels the same way. Both these women visited Italy during the 1960s and have not been back since. It is important to note that when these women made their return visits they invariably resided in their husband's family’s home. Living with in-laws contrasts starkly with the relative freedom of life in Perth. One afternoon at Laguna, I asked a group of women about their experiences of living in extended households. The discussion eventually turned to visit experiences and each woman lamented the way her mother-in-law would double check everything she did for her husband. One woman told me that her mother-in-law would check the amount of coffee she poured into her husband’s cup and comment, ‘Did she give you

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enough?’ or ‘Is it strong enough for you?’ Another woman explained that this behaviour was not meant to be offensive, that it was ‘just their way’. Everyone seemed to agree that their Italian sisters-in-law did not get upset by the ‘doting’ and ‘nosy’ behaviour of their mothers-in-law. But, as one woman said, “We [Italo-Australians] can’t take it for long’.

Everyone I spoke to, mothers and daughters alike, agreed that the extended household is ‘the worst’ living arrangement.> Most of the women described a sense of powerlessness over their children, their husbands and themselves. Any decisions that affected them and their children had to be discussed first with the whole household, especially decisions involving money. One woman explained that in desperation she often took her children to her bedroom just to be able to discipline them herself or simply to spend some time with them without being continually ‘advised’ by her in-laws: ‘What I did was never good enough and definitely never as good as the way my mother-in-law did it’. Clarinda, a member of the Laguna Club, was born in Valtellina and

married a man from the Veneto whom she met in Perth. While she and

her husband are not from San Fior, she did talk with me at length

about why she refused to visit her husband’s the women from San Fior living in Perth what they said to me because they risked and in-laws with whom they knew I was in experience of the regimented routine of the mother-in-law’s house in 1965:

home town. I suspect that were more guarded about offending their husbands contact. She recounted her daily life of women in her

Monday mornings were put aside for cleaning shoes. Each woman had

to clean her husband’

and

children’s shoes. When

I refused,

because my husband used to clean his own shoes in Australia, I was

considered a bad wife and my mother-in-law insisted on cleaning the shoes for me, which was worse because I had no say at all over my husband or myself.

On this same visit, Clarinda went to her sister-in-law’s bar without

any stockings on and sat on the front steps sunning herself. This caused quite a stir of gossip among the women of the town. Everyone was very polite to her face but her sister-in-law told her about the ‘bad mouthing’ that was going on behind her back. Women were not meant to go to the bar. Even when her sister-in-law, the proprietor, joined Clarinda on the customers’ side of the bar, she was ‘glared at’ by her husband. Clarinda took over a chore from her father-in-law who used to have to carry a heavy container of milk down a steep hill to the milk depot. She decided to drive the milk down for him each day, but one morning the milkman told her he would not accept the milk from her any more. Clarinda was surprised and confused but found out later

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that people thought she was ‘putting on airs’ by driving the milk down and overriding her father-in-law who was too shy to ask her to stop. Even women who continue to visit describe their female friends and relatives in San Fior as less emancipated than the San Fiorese women in Australia. Women's roles are compared as is the relationship between the sexes. There are, of course, generational differences. Women

from

the same class as the emigrants are generally more restricted in their role than are younger women in San Fior. The women do everything for the men in the home and the visiting women often find this frustrating and disappointing. The idea that being a ‘good woman’ and mother is tied up with serving your husband and sons has been shown to be a difficult criterion for those emigrant women whose sons are living away from home. In complete contrast to the situation in San Fior, it is not uncommon for single adult children to move out of home in Australia. As Rita Camerin explained, because her unmarried sons live away from home, she was thought to be a ‘cold mother’ by her paesane in San Fior. Anna Santolo, who was born in Australia, reflected on the relationship between men and women in Italy and in Australia and, from her experience of Italy, she noted that things are changing there for the better: The younger generation, the twenty year olds and on that are now married, it's become more equal. They’re still—you have to prepare the dinners and everything. But you’re getting the impression that there is a slackening up. Whereas Mum’s generation, the women, they are just tied to the house and even stirring the sugar for the husband and things like this, it’s amazing. Whereas the women now

are becoming more liberated. Many

of the younger

women

I met in San Fior were

relatively

emancipated in their attitudes. Most of these women come from wealthy families and have continued their education. No matter how emancipated, however, the very strict gender roles invariably mean that women,

even

those with

careers,

must

assume

most

of the

responsibility of home and child care. At the same time, the older women in the town are very traditional and set in their ways. Given the incidence of households made up of people from three different

generations it is difficult even for the most ardent feminist to introduce

changes in gender roles and attitudes. The identity of many of the women is completely tied up with being a ‘model wife and mother’. Indeed, this is the most often used epitaph for women. The woman's domain is the house and therefore the house becomes a symbol of the ‘good woman’. For example, my aunt, who

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had offered me the use of her ground floor, had a laborious daily cleaning routine that seemed exaggerated to me and it left her little time for other pursuits. Her house was a modern one; the old houses in the region, called case coloniche (farm houses), are large rectangular buildings consisting of three levels. The bottom level comprises the kitchen and stable. (These have been converted to dining rooms.) The middle level contains the bedrooms and the upper level the granaio (granary), which was also used to house the silkworms. Modern houses in the region have three stories with a balcony on the second floor. The

ground

floor has a cellar, a summer kitchen, a laundry and a bath-

toom. The first floor has the bedrooms, the winter kitchen, the formal dining room and another bathroom. The second floor is a loft. Women are described as ‘slaves to their homes’ and most women restrict their family’s movements to the kitchen, bedrooms and ground-floor bathroom, leaving the formal dining room and upstairs bathroom virtually unused, save when guests are entertained. Some women

what is cerned Most prepare bers of

suffer from

known as the ‘house sickness’, where they become overly conabout cleanliness and compulsively clean all day long. workers return home for lunch and so the women must meals at different times during the day for the various memtheir household. Sons and husbands usually require a cooked

meal, often of two courses. Then there is the shopping and washing and ironing and child-minding. sick, which often places great households men simply do not of making coffee. People speak

Women also look after the aged and restraints on their freedom. In most enter the kitchen; many are incapable of the men as being ‘big babies’ and

describe the culture as characterised by ‘momismo’ (mum-ism).’

Men

who do any form of housework are said to be ‘feminine’. My 22-yearold male cousin would often wake his mother on arriving home late in the night to tell her what time she should rouse him in the morning. My aunt would prepare breakfast for her sons and husbands every morning, even when they got up for work at different times, ranging from 3 a.m. to 7 a.m. While San Fiorese women in Australia, like most Australian women, do the bulk of the household chores, it is not uncommon for their

husbands to help them. The lack of extended family support and the special problems associated with migration meant that in many cases it was necessary for men to help their wives in the home. Huber argues that the Trevisano migration experience facilitated the development of close husband-wife relationships which were quite different from the marriage partnerships in Treviso itself.6 Other important lifestyle differences that contribute to the relative freedom of San Fiorese women in Australia are the absence

of a formal lunch

hour, the increased

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privacy of urban life and the greater relative independence of their children.

San Fiorese Visits to Perth In almost every interview with emigrant San Fiorese a reference was made to the negative attitude the townspeople in San Fior had of Australia. They said that it is because of this negative image of Australia that their Italian relatives fail to visit them. The majority of San Fiorese in Australia have never received a visit from any of their relatives living in Italy. San Fiorese in Italy generally expressed an interest in visiting out of politeness but very few had seriously considered a visit. Many migrants were visibly upset by the fact that their relatives had never visited. People in San Fior argue that it is more economical for the emigrants to visit Italy because that way the whole family gets to see them. Those individuals who have visited from San Fior include two widows, who

came out for their nephews’ weddings, a young couple, two retired pensioners who are the widowed mothers of emigrants in Perth, and

two very wealthy men on a business trip, who only stayed for a few days. Wedding invitations are invariably posted to relatives abroad and weddings have inspired more visitors to Australia than any other celebration. People who work explain that they cannot easily get an adequate amount of leave to make the trip worthwhile. Except among the young, there is no real concept of going on vacation. Older townspeople do not take holidays while migrants in Australia describe their visits to San Fior as well-deserved holidays. In contrast to the Italy-based San Fiorese, the Italy-based relatives of Sicilian-Australian migrants appear to visit Australia with much greater frequency. In Messina, Sicily, group trips to visit relatives in Australia had been organised by the local townspeople. The fact that Sicily is still by and large economically depressed compared to Australia may explain the greater interest and more positive regard for Australia held by Sicilians. The people who were most vocal about their desire to visit Australia were the repatriated Australian emigrants, although none of them had visited when I interviewed them. Many Australian San Fiorese said their relatives wanted to visit. Simon Botteon, for example, was certain

that his sad the

his uncle, Luis, would love to visit: ‘I think that he feels that until sons are sistemati in their lives he won’t come out, which is very because I’m sure he would like to’. Simon's wife, Dorothy, believes main reason Luis has not visited is not his sons but his wife:

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She won't be happy [in Australia] because it will all be so different. She's fifty-five now and, not having travelled before, she doesn’t know there is another side to the world. She knows San Fior and that tiny little area where she’s lived her whole life. If she would visit, it would open up a whole new world to her, there are so many people in this area, around Perth, that would be able to communicate

with her at

her level and in her dialect, she just needs to see it. She’d have an easier time than I did there.

The task of remaining in contact with relatives falls mainly to women? and often the women in San Fior offered reasons why they

could not visit. Usually these were not related to finance, but were to

do with family commitments, duty and responsibility. Women who do not have formal jobs say they cannot visit because if they ‘have men in the house’—it is their duty to cook, clean and care for them, making it impossible for them to leave, in some cases even for a day. For example, Caterina Benato told me she was only able to visit because she is a widow and has no responsibilities to keep house for any men. Caterina spent two months in Perth over Christmas 1984. She stayed for a week with her cousin, a week with her brother-in-law, and the rest of the

time with her brother, Renso Benato. Since her visit, Caterina keeps in contact with her relatives in Perth, who take it in turns to telephone monthly. What I found most significant about Caterinas comments was that they did not invoke the rivalry and associated tension raised by other interviewees. Caterina’s distant relatives evidently form part of her daily life. She is happy for them to live in Australia and does not see this as jeopardising their italianita. Perhaps this is because Caterina’s Australian emigrant relatives are among the most frequent visitors to San Fior.

The townsperson who has made the most visits to Perth is Grazia Zamin. She had tears in her eyes when she recalled her first visit with her sister, Carla. Like Caterina, they visited soon after their husbands

died:

When we arrived at the airport, everyone from San Fior was there to meet us and they were clapping their hands chanting, ‘Car - la, Gra zia’. We were waving but we didn’t know who we were waving at, because the airport was a mad-house of people ... It was so wonderful, I would do it again tomorrow if I could.

Grazia is affectionately called ‘the Australian ambassador’ by her fellow townspeople because she has taken to singing Australia’ praises. Grazia has made three visits, all of them when she was over sixty years of age.

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Yet another widow, Tona Camerin, visited her brother, Paolo Camerin,

in Perth in 1985, the year after her husband’ death. She stayed for four weeks, attending her nephew, Matthews, wedding. Like Caterina Benato,

Tona was most impressed by the comparative freedom of women her age in Australia. Their freedom, she felt, was mainly due to the fact that

in Australia the women only had to prepare one main meal a day at dinner time. Tona also noticed that her brother and nephews were much more inclined to help with household chores than were men in San Fior. In general, Tona found the way of life in Australia more relaxed and casual and she could understand why her brother was happy living there. I expect that the incidence of visits to Australia will increase as the younger generation in San Fior begin taking holidays abroad. Already, a few relatives of migrants have ventured to Australia. Shortly after my return to Australia, in 1990, Monica, a young woman

from San Fior,

visited her paternal aunt who lives in Perth. Monica contacted me with some letters from friends in San Fior. Her visit to Australia was a graduation gift from her widowed mother. Because her aunt was quite old, I took Monica sightseeing. One Sunday afternoon we visited the Laguna Club and Monica was thrilled to meet a man who had been in her father’s classe. Monica also found the position of women to be much better in Australia. She noted the same things as the other women I had spoken to—household roles were more equal, women had more independence: The woman is considered more, she is also more independent. In Italy a woman tends to think that her duty is to look after the house and that if she doesn’t she will be judged as not contributing her part.

Few

Italian

mothers

work.

In Australia,

all mothers

work.

Children are taught to look after themselves from an early age. Each makes their own bed and breakfast. In Italy mothers do everything pertaining to household and family needs.

The experiences of the San Fiorese women who have visited Australia are apparently very different from those of two celebrated professional

Italian women visitors, described in Bosworth and Bosworth’s Fremantle’s

Italy. They suggested that Italian-Australian women were in the ‘dark ages’ and a long way behind their sisters in Italy.!° These contrasting perceptions could arise from the fact that the majority of Italians in Australia are from the south of Italy, which is said to be less progressive— my own research suggests that southern Italian families are stricter in regards to limits set on young women. It is also important to note that there are distinct differences in perceptions of gender roles depending on where one lives, both in Australia and in Italy. For example, in

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general, city dwellers have a more progressive attitude than rural or town dwellers. Another observation Monica made was that although the Italian youth she met in Australia said they were Italian, she found them very different to Italians in Italy: They think they are Italian, they like to say they are Italian. But they are different... They are Italian but they have characteristics of the lifestyle that is not Italian. They're a mixture. They’re Italian regarding their nostalgia for Italy, their feelings for Italy as homeland. However they do have an idea of Italy that is rather out-dated . . . Australians don’t really care much for their dress, don’t follow il look.

Monica was pleased with her visit and found that people went out of their way to show her ‘great hospitality ... Great pains were taken to organise outings together for me. In Italy, we don’t make nearly as much fuss of the visitor’. Monica was taken out by a number of people who did not know her and were not related to her. The other young visitor to Australia was Alberto, who moved to San Fior with his parents from Padua as a child. As there can be no secrets in small towns, I found out, along with everyone else, that Alberto was planning a trip to Australia: ‘The fact that I am going to visit Australia has most people in the town criticising me because they don’t understand. They ask me how I can waste so much money, so much time. Travel makes no sense to them, to me it is important’. Alberto had, for

years, planned to visit a friend in Melbourne who had grown up with him in Padua. This friend, Dave, visits Italy often and is always asking Alberto to come to Australia. In 1989, Alberto decided to go for one month and they travelled north, from Victoria, along the coast to Queensland.

After the trip I interviewed Alberto again, and he told me about

some

of his experiences.

Dave's wife, Pat, travelled with them even

though she was pregnant. Alberto did not approve of this and called it ‘very Australian’. Despite the fact that Pat ‘travelled well, and wasn’t a

problem’, Alberto still thought it was ‘madness to travel in that condition’. In fact, on his arrival he told them that it didn’t matter if

they stayed home and asked Pat to ‘think seriously about the long hours in the car, the hotels and the cold. Pat got angry and told me that she wasn’t handicapped’. Alberto was impressed by the natural beauty of the country, but found the lifestyle difficult to adapt to, ‘for an Italian’. Even though Dave was born in Italy and Pat is a second generation Italian-Australian, according to Alberto they lived very differently to Italians in Italy. The greatest difference was in the house:

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It isn’t a habitat like it is for Italians; the house in Australia is used

for eating and sleeping then they're always out. I saw houses of both young and old people ill-kept, ugly, in bad condition. It seems that people don’t spend much time in them. Italians are more attached to their house. I didn’t feel comfortable because I’m not used to the disorder. They’d put down a bag and that bag would stay there for days. Not that they were not good people or anything, the problem was mine. I felt out of place. I saw houses where all that was important was a bed or a sofa, it didn’t matter if the sofa was crooked, or a

leg was broken. Student's houses especially are the bare minimum.

Obviously, the houses Alberto visited did not have full-time housewives in them like the ones he was used to in San Fior. Alberto remarked on the informal and casual behaviour of people he met too: Friends ring to say they're arriving and will be spending the night. No problem, let them sleep there, pump up the mattress, no second thought. In the morning everyone gets up and helps themselves to breakfast, no second thought. No one asks permission to get anything, it’s just help yourself. Next thing they leave and don’t even clean up the mess, no one cares. I learnt that Australians are very ‘happy go lucky’.

From what he had experienced, Alberto surmised that: ‘Young Australians are more capable than young Italians. They run households or travel at the drop of a hat’. Many of Dave's unmarried friends had moved out of their parents’ homes and this was a surprise for Alberto. It is important to remember that Dave lived in the city of Melbourne. Alberto was used to the relatively conservative lifestyle of a small rural town. He may not have been as surprised had he come from a large city such as Milan or Turin. Alberto commented on what he thought was a difference in attitude to work. Australians, he said, were prepared to stop work to travel with no qualms. Given the negative reaction Alberto received while planning his trip to Australia, the relative ease with which Australians planned trips came as a surprise. But the greatest difference Alberto noted was in respect of gender roles: Roles are completely different. Household duties are shared. If the woman

makes

the beds, the husband does the kitchen. Even older

people. Once the wife sat down and talked to us while the husband washed up. What shocked me was the ease and familiarity with which he washed up, as if he did it all the time. I admire this but I wouldn't do it.

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Dress was of course another comparative point: ‘No one cares about

dress. By Italian standards they dress badly, but this is a negative aspect

of Italy not Australia’. On his return, Alberto said he felt he had to be

very careful when he answered people's questions about Australia so as

not to give the wrong impression, because many of the things he had described to me would be interpreted negatively by Italians.

Symbolic Competition Emilio Franzina describes the following joke as emblematic of the way that migrants are treated by their non-migrant townspeople: Mario had migrated to Australia from a little town just outside of Venice in the 1950s. He had always intended to return but the years passed and he married and had children in Australia. Despite the passing of many grandchildren,

more

years and the arrival of Australian-born

all the while

Mario

still intended

to return

to his

beloved paese. One day, Mario awoke to find himself an old man living in Australia with a yearning for his little town that he could

suddenly no longer bear. He decided instantaneously that he would return immediately, and he set about booking his flights and packing his bags. His family in Australia thought he’d gone mad but there was no stopping him. In the space of 48 hours, Mario was ready

with bags packed and plane ticket in hand. The long plane journey only served to intensify his feelings of urgency to return to his beloved paese. For so long he had dreamed of returning and now finally, after so many years, he was on his way. He arrived at Venice airport in the early evening and was taken aback at the hustle and

bustle of this international locale. He’d never been to Venice before and he attributed the commotion he found to tourism. Too much in a hurry to be bothered with catching a train, Mario went to look for a taxi. Surprised at the number of cabs waiting outside, he got into one and was even more surprised to find the driver wasn’t a local, he

wasn’t even an Italian but an immigrant from North Africa. Mario stammered out the name of his beloved town and was relieved to see that the driver seemed to know it. During the 30-minute long-

awaited drive home, Mario strained his eyes to see as much of the

surrounding countryside as he could. He couldn't seem to find anything that was familiar and put this down to the half light of dusk. Finally, they drove into the town and Mario saw the old church and although there were many new buildings around it, he could see the familiar contours of the piazza and the town’s centre. He asked the driver to pull up outside the bar he used to frequent as a

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youth. While he waited for the driver to collect his bags from the boot, Mario peered through the windows and he glimpsed the faces of his old friends. Although much aged, he could easily recognise Piero at the bar, just as he’d left him so many years ago. There was Angelo playing cards with the other faces he knew. Brimming with emotion, Mario burst through the doors. Once

inside he raised his

arms and let his bags drop noisily by his side. He held out his arms declaring, ‘Oi Tosat’ {local greeting meaning ‘Hey friends’). The din in the bar subsided momentarily and Piero, looking up from the bar

responded, ‘Mario, are you leaving?"!!

This joke neatly encapsulates the curious and somewhat ambivalent position the Veneto migrants hold in their home towns and, in particular, in the minds of their non-migrant paesani. They have not been forgotten—Piero is immediately recognisable to his old mates— but over the last few decades they have not been missed either. Their absence has rendered the migrants and their lives unremarkable, if not

somewhat irrelevant. The townspeople are oblivious to the painful nostalgia and yearning, ‘the bitter Calvary of waiting’, that can characterise migrant lives. There is little recognition of what life has been like for the migrants since the miracolo transformed the region into an America. Added to, and in part stemming from, this ignorance about the contemporary migrant condition is the self-professed superiority of the townspeople in Italy. The non-migrant San Fiorese in Italy thus assume a hegemonic position: the migrant’ discourse is muted in Italy where the townspeople’s discourse is dominant. The condition of San Fior as shrine tends to ensure the townspeople’s superordinate status. The San Fiorese-Australian response to this perceived spiritual and cultural poverty has been to develop opposition ideologies.!* These opposition ideologies, or forms of symbolic competition, represent the only way emigrant San Fiorese can defend their choice of permanent migration.!? Whatever behaviour the emigrants exhibit, they will always be judged by the townspeople as somehow inferior. In this subordinate position, emigrants have no alternative—short of accepting that they are inferior—but to defend themselves by advocating another value system. The symbolic competition between the San Fiorese living in and away from Italy is characterised by competing interpretations of lifestyles. Dress styles have been singled out as the most obvious point of contention between the two groups. Almost every emigrant | interviewed bemoaned the fact that their attire came under scrutiny. While the San Fiorese in Italy interpret the characteristically informal

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319

‘Australian’ dress code as an indication of a brutta figura or lack of pride, San Fiorese-Australians view the ‘Italian’ dress code as indicative of histrionic behaviour and an exaggerated expense. San FioreseAustralians are proud of their relative lack of concern about appearance and define themselves as more down to earth and less pretentious than the ‘Italians’. The San Fiorese-Italians thought the young Daniela was dressed like a Gypsy when she wore her rubber boots, while her exAustralian mother saw no harm in allowing her child to choose her clothes. Paolo Camerin explained that he was identified as a foreigner by his out-of-fashion tie, but at the same time ridiculed the amount of time his Italian nephew spent dressing in the bathroom. These instances of symbolic competition relating to dress style reflect a fundamental perceived difference in Australian and Italian lifestyles: that of individual freedom. San Fiorese-Australians interpret their informal dress code as a symbol of their relative freedom and individuality, simultaneously viewing the San Fiorese-Italians as gossipmongers steeped in outmoded

traditions. The ‘Italians’, on the other hand, see

‘Australians’ as a primitive people with no sense of fashion, no history, or spirituality, or culture. All the other examples of symbolic competition are, to greater and lesser degrees, a reflection of this opposition. San Fiorese in Italy extol the beauty, history and culture of their country, and describe Australia as a barren, primitive, snake-infested land. By implication, ‘Australians’ must be soul-less to live there. San Fiorese-Australians describe their townspeople in Italy as ignorant and small-minded, unable to appreciate the natural beauties of their adopted land. They see themselves as worldly wise and progressive. The ‘Australian's’ ability to queue, seen as a symbol of civilisation to Stefano and Luis, is interpreted by their compatriots as unnecessary. Queuing is not valued by San Fiorese in Italy; they prefer to compete for services by being furbi (cunning). In this example, the positive character traits are simply inverted with San Fiorese-Australians seeing behaviour described as furbo as uncivilised. The San Fiorese in Italy claim that their dialect is superior to English (popularly known as a ‘bastard language’) and interpret the Australianborn’s poor Italian language skills as an indication of their cultural poverty. San Fiorese-Australians, however, see English as the language of the modern world. San Fiorese women in Australia pride themselves on the fact that their men help them in the home (although most

women

wish the men would do more) and see their ‘Italian’ sisters as

downtrodden and badly treated. San Fiorese in Italy interpret the San Fiorese-Australian male’s behaviour in the home as proof that they are kept sotto by their wives—the ultimate insult to masculinity. The migrants defend their children’s right to leave home before marriage

320

and describe

Visits Home

them

as independent

and mature,

in contrast to the

dependent San Fiorese youth in Italy. San Fiorese in Italy interpret the unmarried child's absence from the parental home as an indication of

failed family life and, in particular, of bad mothering. The lower cost

of living in Australia is thought, by Italians in San Fior, to reflect a lower living standard. The higher cost of living in the Veneto and high taxes are deemed by the San Fiorese in Italy to be the result of corruption in Italian politics. The migrants define their adoptive home as relatively classless in comparison to Italian society, which they perceive as steeped in social inequality. San Fiorese in Italy, in contrast, see Australia as totally lacking a cultured class. During the course of my fieldwork I heard these views expressed in a variety of ways, from innuendos to angry exclamations. These views are not, of course, as cut and dried as I have defined them. Different people support a range of views at different times to differing degrees. It is important to note, also, that, when in Italy, the San FioreseAustralians uphold their ‘Italo-Australian’ identity and ideologies much more fervently than they do when in Australia. In fact, when they are in Australia, quite the reverse may be true. In other words, in Australia,

these same San Fiorese migrants might uphold the Italian values, particularly when they are competing with non-ltalians, but in Italy, where they are competing with their paesani and trying to defend their migration, they become proud ‘ambassadors for Australia’. Rita Camerin, for example, defended her son's scant regard for apparel when she was in Italy, but, when her son entered the room during our interview in downtown Perth, she reprimanded him for ‘getting about like a Gypsy’. As I have said, an important part of the visit home is to buy Italianmade clothes and other products which are important to being Italian in Australia. What this ideological warfare amounts to is boundary maintenance. In Italy, the San Fiorese migrants defend their migrant identity by upholding things Australian. When they are in their adopted homes, however, they may quite comfortably re-adopt their Italian values and insist that their children take pride in their appearance, remain at home until they marry, and (most common of all) allow their sons to do next

to nothing in the home. In this example of boundary maintenance the symbolic content changes according to the situation in order to sustain

its form.!4

The perception that life in San Fior is more restrictive than life in Australia is used by San Fiorese migrants to defend their adopted lifestyle. This distinction can also be described in terms of a privacy/ intimacy opposition, where San Fior is seen as the centre of gravity, the place of developed sociability and the core of campanilismo. For

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321

emigrant communities, the further away they are from the core, the less pull or influence they have on the hometown community. The very contrast between privacy and intimacy in the two places serves to maintain

San Fior as a powerful

social centre. Visiting is one way

emigrants retain a profile in the town. Although they defend their decision to settle permanently abroad by recourse to symbolic competition, the emigrants continue to identify as a part of the town and want their children to do the same. The idea of the place of San Fior, and the changing content of the cultural values of sistemazione and campanilismo, are able to contain the internal divisions between emigrants and townspeople, the genders and the generations.

10 The Home Town Revisited

At the core of this research is my fascination with how individuals, families and communities sustain and manage relationships over vast distances of space and time. I wanted to understand how the migration process affects people's attachment to place and, in particular, their sense of home. In exploring the way migrancy transforms the identities of not only the migrants and their descendants in diaspora settings, but also the family and townspeople in the sending areas, I came to appreciate the significance of the return visit. I discovered that the majority of migrants from San Fior living in Perth make regular visits home. These visits had been few and far between in the early years (before and after World War II), but have increased in frequency in the last two decades such that many are visiting every two or three years.! While on the one hand the transnational connections defined by these visits seem to indicate that geography is in a sense dead,” on the other, they reaffirm ties to place. The mayor of San Fior described the connection between the emigrants and their town of origin as that between a mother and her child: the home town is ‘mother’ even to the Australian-bom, via ‘the mother’s

voice

[that]

forms

an umbilical

cord’. The

toll of the bell-

tower (even if only a memory) provides another enduring connection between migrant and home town. As I have argued, San Fior is seen as the source of culture by both townspeople and emigrants alike. Corina described her home town as the place ‘where you were born, and your roots are always there, even though you are transplanted’. The paradox

The Home Town Revisited

323

implied by this metaphor aptly reflects the complex relationship

migrants have with their place of origin. Although San Fiorese settled

in Perth recognise San Fior as their cultural source, they also identify themselves as uniquely Italo-Australian. The

tie to homeland,

as the bond between mother and child, is

believed to be sacred. Children have obligations to their parents and parents to their children. To be redeemed for his sinful ways, the prodigal son need only return. The return is in fact a Christian trope: ‘The Sovereign Lord says to his people: “I will signal to the nations, and they will bring your children home”. This popular psalm, Isaiah 49, tells of a Lord who promises to bring his children, who were born

in exile, home. Unlike the Protestant model of pilgrimage, of going forth to seek one’s fortune and periodically reuniting with family, the Catholic pilgrimage model is one of travelling outward from home in

order to seek spiritual salvation.* Return visits for the San Fiorese are

like secular pilgrimages approximating the Catholic pilgrimage model.?

The emigrant’s visit ‘home’ is a secular pilgrimage of redemption in response to the obligation of child to kin, townsperson to town. In the case of the second generation emigrant, the visit is a transformatory

rite of passage brought about by the development of ties to one’s ancestral past. The mutual responsibilities and obligations family members have to each other, and the extension of these obligations to godparents, fictive

kin and friends, create a moral community. The migration process must be located within this moral community—an ethnoscape played out on a transnational social field.© The obligation between the emigrants

and the townspeople is reciprocal. The migrants are obliged to return to honour their ties to family and community. The townspeople and telatives who did not migrate are obliged to welcome the return of their emigrant relatives and to keep a place for them. The concept of campanilismo, commonly invoked by the San Fiorese, which I have taken to mean ‘spatial self-identity’, is a useful conceptual

tool in the comprehension of both the migrants’ attachment to their home town and their ethnic identification in the host country. To the San Fiorese in Italy, campanilismo signifies their particular frazione of birth. San Fior is the central defining place, and all other localities, including Australia, are defined in relation to it. The boundaries of an individual's spatial self-identity, however, can expand or contract along provincial, regional or national lines depending on the context. Similar-

ly, to San Fiorese in Australia, the locality of campanilismo is embodied in multiple ways. In certain contexts the migrants’ campanilismo is signified by San Fior, in others it is signified by Perth or Australia. In others still, campanilismo is signified by the Laguna Veneto Club in

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Perth. It is also important to note that the migrants’ visits have an impact on hometown life, causing the locals to experience a sense of dislocation or displacement not unlike that felt by the migrants themselves.’ The visitors, by their very arrival, call into question the existence of a quintessential San Fiorese identity based on unbroken connection to place. The symbolic nature of campanilismo means that its form can persist while the content changes.® In other words, although people's sense of campanilismo has a homogenising and unifying effect, enabling them to identify collectively as San Fiorese, it is also multicentric, providing different meanings for different people and bearing witness to the numerous divisions within a community, including age, gender and class.

The concept of campanilismo does not, therefore, represent a static entity, but is better understood as a boundary forming and/or main-

taining device. When defined in this way, the emigrants’ campanilismo cannot be reduced to family ties, as is commonly thought. As an

example, Angelo Santolo, who lives in Queensland, continues to visit

San Fior even though his mother and most of his siblings live in France. His ‘transplanted’ status was highlighted to me when he insisted that Queensland reminded him of Italy, describing his farm as his ‘little

piece of San Fior’. Angelo’s capacity to re-imagine San Fior, and his

ability to read his hometown identity into the Australian landscape, indicate that spatial identity is not necessarily geographically fixed but is often, rather, an idea of a place.? Because the idea of space or place can be transplanted,

identity, even spatial identity, can transcend

geographic sites. While family ties are not essential to the maintenance of campanilismo, they are a fundamental aspect of the migrant’ relationship with his or her home town. Given their different experiences of migration, the townspeople and the migrants have separate and often conflicting migration discourses, which create an ongoing dialectic between the home and host communities. The emigrants and the townspeople are,

at one and the same time, united in their identification as San Fiorese and in their attachment to San Fior, and divided by their different life experiences. Migrants are both contained within the reciprocal bonds

of the family and independent of them; they are no longer sotto the control of the family, yet they are morally obliged to perform the duties

of a family member.!° They are both envied and pitied, variously por-

trayed as the prodigal child, the culturally impoverished repatriate, the

rich ‘americano’, the unfortunate one who

had to leave, and the for-

tune-seeker who left for a better life. The individual's migration, although necessary, causes a fractious

family history, which underlies the problematic reciprocal relations that

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325

exist between the people who have stayed in town and their kin who have settled abroad. Migration has always been a culturally accepted economic

strategy employed

to achieve sistemazione, the culturally

defined goal of success (house, family, livelihood). The location of a successful sistemazione, however, has changed over time, depending in part on objective economic indicators of living standards and in part on more subjective notions about the best place to live. The increased affluence of the Veneto in recent years has undermined the migrants’

‘successful’ sistemazione abroad, placing them in the difficult position of having to justify their migration by jealously competing with their

townspeople. This rivalry is played out most visibly during the visit encounter in Italy, where the townspeople’s discourse is dominant,

generating a pervasive hegemony within which the migrants’ discourse is muted.

Due to its subordinate status, the migrants’ discourse tends

to find expression in symbolic forms as the migrants attempt to that they are still San Fiorese, but that their life in Australia is than life in San Fior. Return visits to San Fior are, then, a significant expression of the emigrants’ attachment both to their town and to their host country, of both their campanilismo and ethnic identity.

prove better most home their

The Politics of the Return Visit When discussing migration, most theorists focus either on the conditions

in the home country that led to migration or on issues of settlement in the host country. Few studies adequately consider the connections between the home country and the diaspora. The chain migration

process, described by Price, for example, identifies three migration

movements:!! the arrival of lone men of working age who follow the route of a pioneer; the calling out of wives and dependants once men

decide to settle; and the calling out of elderly parents and distant relatives once the family (sistemazione) is established. Price’s three-step model provides a partial account of migration, but it does not include return visits and repatriations. As 1 have dem-

onstrated, return visits are integral to the migration process and an analysis of them is crucial to an understanding of the place of Italian migrants in both Australia and Italy. The visits reveal that migration is not simply about departure and establishing one’s family in a new

country, but it is also about ties to the homeland and the influence of

this attachment on the development of ethnic identity.

The San Fiorese return visits form part of the cultural pattern of migration. Given that marriage is considered an essential characteristic of a successful sistemazione, the very first return visits to San Fior were

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made in the 1930s and 1940s by single males intending to find a spouse. Failure to repatriate, as was the cultural expectation, often meant that the first visits made by some of these early migrants (who

arrived in the 1920s) assumed the dimensions of the prodigal’s return.

For the bulk of the 1950s migrants, the first visits back occurred in

the 1960s and 1970s. These were family reunions where Australianborn children—proof of a successful sistemazione—were taken to meet their grandparents. It was also an opportunity for migrants to reconsider their positions and decide where they should settle. Subsequent visits assumed the important role of maintaining obligations to family and townspeople. Attendance at weddings, anniversaries and funerals, as well as reunions with siblings who had emigrated elsewhere and with classe mates still in town, ensured that ties with people and place were renewed and consolidated. Most migrants did not decide whether to settle in Australia or repatriate until they had made a return visit to San Fior. For many, ‘going back’ enabled them to appreciate their Australian lifestyles for the first time. The vast majority decided not to repatriate because at that time they judged life in Australia to offer them better prospects than life in San Fior. Most of them were set up in their own businesses and repattiation presented a considerable risk to their hard-earned economic independence. It is important to remember that the first return visit with the family and the decision to settle in Australia were made by migrants before Treviso had achieved the economic development it boasts today. The advent of the economic miracolo in the Veneto coincided with that period in the emigrants lives when their energies were focused on setting themselves up in Australia. Time and money were needed for the local family and, apart from special visits, for funerals or illness, very little movement occurred between the two places.

Given that migration was a culturally approved economic strategy employed to enable a successful sistemazione in their natal town, San Fiorese migrants were morally obliged to repatriate. Their decision not to repatriate was based on their achievement of the culturally sanctioned goals of sistemazione and self-employment. Nevertheless, the San Fiorese migrants’ moral obligation to return remains, as is evidenced by their pattern of visiting. The emigrants’ decision not to repatriate meant that their settlement patterns changed from Italy-based ones to Australia-based ones.!? These changes in settlement patterns caused a transformation in the migrants’ attachment to their home town and their campanilismo. The decision not to repatriate and the subsequent focus on achieving a successful sistemazione in Australia marks the beginning of the development of an Italian-Australian

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327

identity for the San Fiorese in Australia, and resulted in profound

changes in the emigrants’ relationships with their relatives and towns-

people who remained in the home town. The outcome was a shift

between centre and peripheries; Perth became ‘home’ to the emigrant

San Fiorese and San Fior was transformed into a shrine to be visited for cultural and spiritual renewal. This change in the location of the centre resulted in differences in the life experiences,

and

therefore

identity constructions,

of the

emigrants and the townspeople. These differences are reflected in their competing discourses on migration. These competing and contrasting migration discourses meet awkwardly during the return visit. It is no surprise, therefore, that, apart from the initial honeymoon

period, the

visiting migrants often prefer to rent apartments on their own. Their visit experience is joyful and rejuvenating—they ‘go back’ to embrace

their loved ones, breathe the air and listen to the bells toll. At the same time, however, the visit can be disorienting, disillusioning and disap-

pointing.!3 In Australia they are considered to be Italian and, under the policy of multiculturalism, many invest a great deal of energy main-

taining an ethnic identity defined as Italian. In Italy, they are considered

to be australiani and,

as Mandel

writes of Turkish

Gastarbeiter

visiting their ancestral homes from Germany, ‘they are effectively barred from returning to their former identities’.!* 1 will never forget the shock I felt the first time I witnessed my father metamorphose into an ambassador for Australia when he visited while I was in Italy. I had only ever heard him compare Australia unfavourably to Italy and yet here he was, holding court in the local bar, singing the praises of life in ‘Oz’. Non-migrants, too, can experience a similar type of decentring or deterritorialised identity, as the visitor inadvertently confronts them

with other ways of being Italian. Both the emigrants’ and the townspeople’s discourses of migration

are characterised by three dimensions, which are often in contention. These are economic (market forces and socio-economic history); famil-

ial (family life cycle and sistemazione); and identity (individual and

community identity, which are comprised of two types of knowledge,!°

consociate and popular).

The economic dimension is the most overt and comprises people's responses to the changing socio-economic contexts in both the home and host countries. The townspeople question the emigrants’ decision

not to repatriate. After all, they believe that ‘America’ is now in San Fior. The fact that luxurious sistemazione and even self-employment are attainable realities in San Fior today annuls the migrants’ motive for settling in Australia. In the light of the socio-economic improve-

ments in San Fior, the migrants’ decision to settle abroad may today be

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seen as a mistake. Several informants were indeed sensitive to the view that they had been foolish for having settled abroad, a view held by many townspeople. The ever-increasing frequency of return visits made by emigrants to San Fior is taken as proof by the townspeople that the migrants prefer life in Italy. At the same time, these return visits also prove that the

migrants’ emigration was successful, because they can afford to visit. Frequent return visits can thus be interpreted, on the one hand, as conspicuous displays of wealth, and, on the other, as attempts to fulfil the moral obligation to return. The concept of relative deprivation is a useful tool in deciphering the jealous rivalries and symbolic competition that characterises the relations between migrants settled abroad and their paesani in Italy.!° This symbolic competition is nowhere more evident than in the visit encounter, where the townsperson, returnee

and migrant can compare their sistemazione.}” The general lack of interest in, and knowledge of, Australia that townspeople express, through, for example, their refusal to visit, their image of Australia as a place of ‘deserts, snakes and primitives’, and their treatment of Australian repatriates as culturally impoverished, is a powerful disapprobation of the migrants’ sistemazione in Perth. The emigrants react by upholding their ‘Australian-ness’ as a sign of their emancipation while they are in San Fior, but effortlessly revert to being ‘San Fiorese’ when they are in Australia. What it means to be San Fiorese is thus contested, debated and disputed by the San Fiorese themselves. In other words, campanilismo is also defined in terms of

internal competition; the problematic reciprocal relations between the townspeople and the migrants play a central role in the construction of both ethnic and town identity. The familial dimension of the migration discourses concerns the politics of reconciliation. The journey home is expected and planned: it is a requirement. Households are thus stretched through time and space as the mutual obligations between family members generally assure continuing relations between migrant and non-migrant kin.}§ However, although informants’ descriptions of their visits begin with references to joyous reunions, it does not take long for them to begin recounting the many tensions that invariably arise due to the fractious family histories caused

by migration,

which

are, in many

ways,

impossible to reconcile. In a few cases, rivalries mean that emigrants break all ties with their relatives and refuse to visit. In other cases, emigrants do not visit because of financial strain and the belief that their emigration has not been successful. As the testimonies make clear, many migrant visitors are perceived by the townspeople as braggarts and show-offs, while at the same time

The Home Town Revisited

these townspeople

are seen by their emigrant

329

kin as ignorant and

blinkered. Migrants are intent on proving to themselves and to their fellow townspeople that they made the right decision in migrating. However, these respective perceptions have shifted with the changing fortunes of the two places. In addition, informants expressed a range

of views at different times and to differing degrees. The jealousy and

one-upmanship between the townspeople and their migrant kin is especially evident in the conspicuous display of material wealth. Franco

and Guido Zamin transported their cars with them on their first ‘family’ visits to San Fior in the 1960s, when few people in San Fior could afford a car. Ettore Botteon presented his parents with a when

television set

they were new on the market and he also tried, unsuccessfully,

to renovate their bathroom. In more recent times, the townspeople have lorded their sense of financial and cultural superiority over their emigrant visitors through their renowned dress style and standards.

The tensions between visitor and visited often come to a head over the delicate issue of finding a place to stay. Townspeople are obliged to host their emigrant relations and visitors are obliged to accept invita-

tions, but, as one informant aptly said of the visitor: ‘It’s like fish in the

fridge: if you keep it too long, it begins to smell’. While the migrants’ parents are in control of their own household, it is taken for granted that the visitor will reside with them. The death of parents marks a change in the emigrant’ relationship to his or her town and finding lodgings is no longer straightforward. Some emigrants make arrangements with kin for a place to stay on their visits in return for inheritance rights. Those informants who could afford to, have purchased their own apartments and so are assured of accommodation when they visit. The

emigrant’ house is also a tangible symbol of his or her campanilismo.

The fact that the San Fiorese from Perth purchase apartments in the

nearby urban centre of Conegliano, rather than in San Fior, reflects their particular form of campanilismo—the migrants no longer fit comfortably back into life in San Fior and prefer a more cosmopolitan

space. San Fior thus becomes a shrine to be visited and revered, while Conegliano is, instead, a symbol of the migrants’ italianita. Underlying the tensions and rivalries, however, are the enduring bonds of kinship

and friendship. The emigrants are keen for their children to get to know their relatives and San Fior continues to play an identity-forming role in the lives of the San Fiorese in Perth.

The dimension of identity formation is the most complex aspect of the migration discourses. It concerns the transmission of cultural knowledge, of which there are two types—consociate and popular (or

consumer). The migrants visit Italy, not only to re-establish family ties

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Visits Home

and so develop a consociate identity, but also to renew cultural ties and so develop an ethnic identity. The migrants’ itinerary is thus a combination of time spent with family and townspeople and time spent visiting popular sights and acquiring ‘Italian’ wares. Consociate knowledge is gained through the shared experiences of meeting and living with townspeople. This knowledge consolidates ties between families and the generations and ensures that mutual obligations are met and maintained. It is in the sense of cultural knowledge that the home town is recognised as the cultural source. The significance of consociate knowledge to the establishment of ongoing bonds between people, is evident, for example, in the fact that repatriates are generally more interested in visitors from Australia than are people who have never emigrated. Similarly, young people born after 1960, who have not experienced migration, have much less regard for their Australian relatives than their parents have. An extended visit

can, however, result in new ties being formed between kin who have

not met before. Popular knowledge is gained through visiting ‘consumer’ Italy. This knowledge is manifest in the style of comportment and dress that informants identify with being Italo-Australian. Popular knowledge underlines the emigrants’ ‘ethnic identity’ rather than their familial identity or their attachment to San Fior. Part of every visit is given over to shopping for symbols of italianita, which are important to display in

Australia—Italian

leather-wear,

shoes,

handbags

and jackets,

Italian

clothes and artefacts from tourist sights (for example, Venetian masks or ceramic crafts). When I visited the Australian homes of emigrant

San Fiorese, I would be shown these ‘trophies’—some carefully stored

in cupboards, others proudly displayed on living room walls and mantelpieces. For first generation migrants, the pilgrimage to Italy ensures a

‘cultural renewal’ in the traditional Catholic sense.!° It reaffirms ties to

relatives and, thus, the individual's position in both the family and the

moral community of the town, by providing shared experiences with kin and townspeople. The pilgrimage also reaffirms the emigrant’ ItaloAustralian identity by providing the experiences and markers necessary to ‘prove’ his or her authenticity back home. Today, the majority of migrants are not interested in repatriating. Yet, in the last two decades, they have begun to make frequent and regular visits to San Fior. The first generation migrants who have achieved financial success visit, on

average, for three months in every eighteen and most describe as ideal a life lived six months a year in Italy and six months in Australia. In recent years, their visits to San Fior include excursions to famous Italian

cities and European capitals. The fact that emigrants have begun to

The Home Town Revisited

331

boast about the ‘sights’ and places they visit outside San Fior can be read in two ways. Like the stories emigrants told of travelling by car to neighbouring countries during their visits to San Fior in the 1960s, contemporary (and costly) sightseeing excursions are obvious examples of the requirement that migrants prove, albeit symbolically, that they are more affluent than their townspeople. At the same time, travelling to tourist sights has become a way for emigrants to compete in Australia for recognition of their Italian ethnicity. For second generation Italo-Australians, the visit ‘back’ to Italy is an important part of their affirmation of ethnicity, often resulting in a transformation of identity—as happened to John Tonos, who explained to me that the visit ‘changed’ him and that before he ‘went back’ he didn’t think of himself as Italian at all. However, for a few, the visit can

be as disorienting as it is for many first generation migrants-like the young Australian-born woman of Sicilian extraction who exclaimed, Td grown up thinking, “oh I’m Italian, I’m Italian”, and then I got there [Italy] and I thought “No, I don’t quite know what I am but I’m

definitely not Italian”.*° The most significant differences between these two individuals, in terms of their visit experiences, is that the young woman was an active participant in the informal Italo-Australian youth network and identified as Italian before her visit home. None of the Australian-born San Fiorese discussed so far were active network participants. Those who were had not yet been ‘back’ to Italy, although those I met told me they intended to visit one day. Like their parents, second generation migrants also seek and acquire consociate and popular knowledge. All the second generation San Fiorese 1 spoke to described their return visits to their parents’ home town as transformative. Second and subsequent generation visitors undergo a rite of passage through the attainment of cultural knowledge, the experience of which enables them to develop their own discourse on migration, one that is characterised by their ‘double vision’ or ‘double cultural competences’.*! By visiting, these individuals develop their consociate knowledge as they establish ties and obligations to their kin in Italy. The relationships, thus formed, expose the second generation to the moral codes of the hometown community. After visiting, they feel different about San Fior because they can attach faces and personalities to people who were previously just names. Their relatives become real for them; they become relevant others. Bonds are formed through shared experiences and, particularly if the visit is lengthy, regular contact is maintained. The second generation visitors also increase their knowledge of ‘popular’ consumer Italy, which is important to their ethnic identification in Australia. The Australian-born individuals I interviewed were keen

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Visits Home

to visit the famous sites in Italy, particularly those of Rome, Venice and Florence. Despite their beauty, Sicily and the south are still largely ignored by young San Fiorese-Australian visitors. Although diminishing, their impression of southern Italy is tainted by the sense of northern superiority inherited from their parents. All visitors, but particularly those from the second generation, return to Australia having purchased Italian fashion markers so that they may be publicly identified as Italians. Those fashion items which are desirable to non-Italians in Australia due to the thriving ethnicity industry—gold jewellery, Italian designer clothes and accessories—ate particularly important to these Italo-Australians, because they are socially celebrated markers of a popular italianita. Being able to speak the language, wear Italian labels, talk about the beauty of Venice and advise friends on the best Italian food ‘boosts’ the individual's ethnic identity and their status in Australia. It is important to note that many second generation visitors only

make their time in San Fior a very brief part of a much longer European tour. Their visits to San Fior, like their parents’, are also secular pilgrimages to a shrine. Not all Australian-born visitors were happy with what they saw and their interviews invariably contained a critique of life in Italy compared with life in Australia. Many were disappointed with the reception they received in San Fior. Young and old alike were offended by the lack of knowledge and interest regarding Australia expressed by townspeople in Italy. Some others, however, have decided to settle in Italy (or are considering it), creating a situation which is both cruel and kind to their parents. On the one hand, having a child living in Italy is an even greater reason to visit and increases the emigrant’s attachment

to San Fior, but, on the other, it discredits

the parents’ migration and sistemazione in Australia. Recently, three Australian-born individuals had emigrated ‘back’ to Italy to take up work opportunities in the province of Treviso. They are proof that the migration cycle is still in progress. Their parents emigrated, unable to ‘set themselves up’ at home, and by migrating achieved a successful sistemazione in Australia. Unemployed Australian children have followed the same culturally approved strategy in remigrating.

Constituting Migrancy When I began my research, I set out to explore the construction of identity over time and space and to investigate migration as transna-

tional interaction. In doing this, I have attempted to answer call for a more ethnographic approach to the concepts community and ethnicity, not only to display a richness of to grasp something of the complexity and struggle that

Bottomley’ of identity, detail, ‘but defies and

The Home Town Revisited

333

contradicts neat theoretical formulations’, as well as to locate myself anthropologically as observer and ‘native’.2? By way of conclusion, I

want to situate my findings in the broader debates on diasporic culture

and the relationship between place and identity in the migration process.

Theorising return visits as an integral part of the migration process

leads us to conceptualise migration as a process that continues beyond the settlement of the first generation. Locating return visits in the migration process, therefore, has important implications for the way we understand cultural transmission. As Bottomley points out, studies of ethnic minorities that do not consider migration as ‘transnational interaction often produce an image of culture ‘as a kind of package of

attributes carried across from the homeland’.2> This reified view of

culture can lead to the idea that culture is lost and/or watered down over the generations, or alternatively that migrants are ‘frozen’ in a kind of ‘time warp’, remaining enmeshed in the culture of their place of origin from the set time of their departure. Portraying emigrants as though they are unaware of the developments and changes that have occurred in their home towns during their absence effects a distancing of the migrants in time and space that maintains their ‘otherness’.2+ Contact between the home and host countries is not solely dependent on return visits. What is essential to the maintenance of ties between people in both places are shared experiences. Contemporaries and consociates are differentiated by the existence of face-to-face contact. Consociates share time and space and so have shared experiences, while contemporaries simply share time.*? This distinction between consociates and contemporaries does not, however, examine all the aspects of time and space. Face-to-face interaction is not the only form, and it should not be privileged. The recent advent of information technologies is revolutionising the type and degree of contact between people who are geographically distant.*° Space is a cultural construct and therefore cannot be taken as selfevident. People create shared space by performing acts of incorporation through their meetings, telephone conversations, email contact and what might be termed ‘transportable space’, as in letters and gift exchanges. Invitations to weddings are invariably sent to relatives even if the sender knows they cannot attend. Bomboniere, which are usually only given to people who attend weddings and christenings, are sent to relatives and special friends abroad as are the memorial cards that mark a person's death. These acts of incorporation neutralise distance and geographical space. This incorporation is the type of labour needed to overcome the Australian notion of ‘the tyranny of distance’ and its transnational twin—the notion of being ‘on the other side of the world’.

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Visits Home

The essential factor that makes townspeople and migrants consociates is their shared construction of history and identification as San Fiorese—they are linked, at the very least, through the common auditory experience of the bell and, as the mayor explained, their mother’s voice—even if for some these sounds can only be imagined. The notion of loss of culture due to migration is prevalent in the debates concerning the concept of globalisation, where the migration from agrarian-based societies to industrialised ones is argued to result

eventually in ‘de-differentiation’.2” The prediction that the subsequent

generations will become ‘Australian’, or that migrants will eventually homogenise, reflects the idea that all cultures will become the same under the forces of globalisation—modernisation, capitalism, the labour market and the world system. Connections to homeland, an agrarian world-view and its associated family-based organisation are thought to be lost once the peasant-worker emigrant becomes an industrial worker settled in the host country. As one researcher surmised: ‘Perhaps the

most poignant expressions of the last vestiges of peasant-worker identity were the promises endlessly deferred—to return home

following year’.

the

In accordance with this thesis, Friedman argues that ‘there is a clear

tendency for economic success to seriously weaken ethnic identity as individuals find new and rewarding identities in the expanding career possibilities of the growing national society’.2 He concludes that ‘culture-based identity would seem to vary inversely with “modernity”,

ie., with civilisational expansion’.*° My findings show that, despite

the transformation to urban workers, San Fior migrants who have settled in Australia continue to identify with their natal town and continue to maintain familial obligations. In addition, even if those migrants who have settled abroad endlessly defer their promises to return—living lives characterised by the myth of return rather than actually experiencing it—their identity is still informed by the cultural codes of their peasant-worker past. Mine is a theory of the transmutation of identity where, far from creating paradoxical forms of alienation, the migrant develops a unique, in this case Italo-Australian, identity. Despite the tensions and ambiguities that comprise the problematic reciprocal relations between migrants in Australia and their townspeople in Italy, relations continue to exist over enormous distances

and many generations.

The San Fiorese migration experience supports the view that immi-

gration—forced and unforced—can generate worldwide networks that carry counter-currents to the alienating effects of globalisation often

implied in postmodernism.?! My findings are compatible with the

interpretation of the effect of globalisation as ‘creolist clusters of

The Home Town Revisited

meaning’

335

and the rejection of views of culture as well-bounded

wholes.* By virtue of the San Fior migration history. multiple meanings

are necessarily attached to the San Fiorese identity. These multiple meanings are negotiated through the process of return visits and thus the construction of identity by the diaspora is influenced by the homeland and vice-versa. The tensions and differences that exist between people in the home and host countries are never totally resolved, reinforcing the view that culture should be seen as a zone of disagreement and contest rather than a zone of shared meaning.? However, these tensions and differences are nevertheless contained within a common italianita that is maintained through continued connection to place and relationships of reciprocity. The policy of multiculturalism in Australia is a policy that, at base, concerns representation. It is no longer adequate to conceptualise identity using the two main theories offered by modern social science, which view local identity as either residual (something fading under the onslaught of modernisation and nationalism) or primordial (related to a cultural drive in which culture is viewed as a fixed bundle of traits and beliefs formed in the distant past and reproduced unwittingly by local populations).** Similarly, the notions that have been most influential in the analysis of ethnic identity—Anglo-conformity and the melting pot—and the two main definitions of ethnicity—primordial (ancient, unchanging, inherent in a groups blood, soul, or misty past) and instrumental (calculated and manipulated primarily for political ends)—fail to address the politics of representation.» Awareness of the myth of assimilation together with sensitivity to immigrants’ opposition to Anglo-conformity, along with their determined efforts to maintain both language and culture, has led to a re-evaluation of ethnicity. Most researchers now agree that the immigrants’ traditional cultures have not remained unchanged and advocate a conception of ethnicity as a cultural construction accomplished over historical time.*© Hannerz argues that the metaphor of the world as a ‘cultural mosaic’, ‘of separate pieces with hard, well-defined edges’, is no longer relevant. The edges have become ‘fuzzy’ because ‘cultural interconnections increasingly reach across the world’.>’ He stresses the

importance of centre/periphery relationships, which involve diffusion as well as differentiation, in the ordering of cultural process, and argues that ‘contemporary views from the centre have tended to give too little recognition of the generation of new culture at the periphery through the creative use of imported as well as local resources’.>® As my research shows,

ethnic groups

in modern

settings are constantly recreating

themselves, and ethnicity is continuously being reinvented in response to changing realities within the group, in the host society and in the

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Visits Home

home country. Ethnic group boundaries, for example, particularly in their symbolic aspect,>° must be repeatedly renegotiated. Furthermore, expressive symbols of ethnicity like ethnic traditions are not only repeatedly reinterpreted; new symbols are also invented. Theories that focus on culture as collective systems of meaning ensure that adequate attention is paid to how the construction of

ethnicity is subject to control by the state.*? Under the policy of multiculturalism in Australia, the ‘ethnic group’ is constructed as ‘other’,

as ‘outside’ what it is to be mainstream Australian.*! If an individual

identifies as ‘ethnic’, or is identified by another as ‘ethnic’, then he or

she, by definition, is differentiated from ‘Australian’ and is thus identified as marginal or peripheral to the centre. Multiculturalism is concerned with management of, rather than participation by, ethnic groups, in that difference is considered dangerous and the emphasis is on unity in diversity.4? The ‘repressive tolerance’ that results is evident in the lumping together of a diverse and divided group of people who are labelled as ‘Italian’. The visit to the shrine of the home town can be seen both as an act of resistance on the part of the emigrant to the reductionist and marginalising treatment they receive from the workings of the policy of multiculturalism (through their identification with a specific town, province, region, and type of Italy) and as a way of ensuring that they will continue to be identified as ‘Italo-Australian’ (through their display of appropriate ethnicity markers). What it means to be Italian in Australia is a continuous process of transformation, just as what it means to be San Fiorese in Italy is constantly changing. Campanilismo and sistemazione become particular manifestations of ethnicity that are socially constructed. They contain dynamic, ambiguous and contradictory meanings, which, together with the contemporary construction of traditions and the reappropriation of the past, ensure both connections between people in the home and host countries, and the maintenance of a vital and relevant ethnic identity over time. An awareness of the way identity is socially constructed leads to an appreciation of identity as a process, and of culture, to quote Agnew, as ‘a dynamic

phenomenon, a

set of practices, interests and

ideas

subject to collective revision, changing or persisting as places and their populations change or persist in response to locally and externally generated challenges’. Agnew argues that identity is rooted in actual locations; ‘cultural worlds are grounded geographically in the experience of place’ and ‘culture therefore, is inherently geographical, defined in places and through local identity’.*3 1 would clarify Agnew’s understanding of place and extend his argument to ensure that the definition of place is not confined to actual locations. As I have shown,

The Home Town Revisited

337

geographical identity and connections to place can extend over great distances.

In direct contrast to Agnew’s view, Hannerz asserts that identity is

not tied to actual locations; ‘as collective systems of meaning, cultures belong primarily to social relationships, and to networks of such relationships. Only indirectly, and without logical necessity, do they belong to places’. He believes that the link between culture and territory becomes more attenuated, ‘The less people stay in one place, and also the less dependent their communications are on face-to-face contacts’.** Although they represent opposite sides of the debate about the relationship between place and identity, both Hannerz and Agnew define territory as a geographical entity. | would qualify Hannerz’s argument by pointing out that, when considered as the ‘idea of a place’, territory can be of central and continued importance to identity construction.

Further, as noted above, face-to-face contacts are not the only form of

communication between people that ensure continued social relation-

ships and continued connections to place. In Gupta and Ferguson's words: The ability of people to confound the established spatial orders, either through physical movement or through their own conceptual and political acts of re-imagination, means that space and place can never be ‘given’, and that the process of their sociopolitical construction

must always be considered.*°

The transnational context of migrants’ lives develops from the interplay of multiplex phenomena—historical experience, structural conditions, and the ideologies of their home and host societies. The fluid and complex existence of transnational migrants compels us to teconceptualise many notions that are central to the study of migration. The phenomenon of return visits to the place of origin is part of the transnational perspective on migration, which allows us to see migra-

tion not simply as a finite act of relocation but as a continuous cultural process. The question of identity, in what some have labelled the postmodern era, depicts complex and overlapping, identity-laden social worlds. The complicated webs of social relations that develop out of regular return visits reveals that migrants draw upon and create fluid and multiple identities grounded both in their old and in their new homelands. For some migrants the transnational context of their lives is experienced as a ‘shifting’ centre that does not stabilise, so that the centre

finds itself wherever the migrant is not,*® resulting in what has been

described as ‘a generalised condition of homelessness’.4” This homelessness is painfully evident in the restlessness of many San Fiorese

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Visits Home

migrants; when they are in Perth, they desire to be in soon after arriving in San Fior, they wish to be back in sense, the migrants are like pilgrims endlessly journeying: through time, the truth is elsewhere; the true place is distance, some time away. Wherever the pilgrim may be

San Fior, yet Perth. In this ‘For pilgrims always some now, it is not

where he ought to be, and not where he dreams of being’.*® Thus these

migrants inhabit what has been called a ‘deterritorialised world’; their visits ‘transcend specific territorial boundaries and identities’.*° Yet, connections to place, even if only imagined, are of central importance to migrants’ lives; “homeland” in this way remains one of the most powerful unifying symbols for mobile and displaced people’,>° and while ‘deterritorialisation has destabilised the fixity of “ourselves” and “others” . . . it has not thereby created subjects who are free-floating monads’.*! As Ang argues: ‘it is the myth of the (lost or idealised) homeland, the object of both collective memory and of desire and attachment, which is constitutive to diasporas, and which ultimately confines and constrains the nomadism of the diasporic subject’.°? Another way of theorising the relationship between place and identity in the migration process is to invert Ang’s argument and propose that it is nomadism, or rather migrancy—the movement between places—that ‘confines and constrains’ and ultimately defines the migrants’ sense of ‘home’. Extending Papastergiardis’s argument that the migrant’ identity is partly formed by and in the journey,” migrants’ home or homes are also partly formed through their migrancy. Contemporary theorists of migration need to account for identities characterised by movement and conceptions of place constructed through movement. The San Fiorese are habitually moving back and forth but this movement is dependent on ‘homeness’ rather than homelessness, on the shrine that is San Fior and the pilgrims’ process that is their life in Perth. The visit home, be it real or mythical, may be the main integrating factor in migrants’ lives, yet the return visit has

been conceptually invisible in migration studies.>*

My findings attest to the continuing importance of ties to, and commitments to, place and people. However, in recognising and highlighting their attachments to place, it is equally important to acknowledge that the identities of the visitor and pilgrim are characterised by movement. This migrancy renders geographical place into the idea of a place and the home, into an ever-shifting centre that may find itself wherever the migrant is not. Thus, the migratory movements— the return visits—between two ‘homes’ become themselves the creation of a sense of home. For the San Fiorese-Perth migrants, spatial meanings, and in particular their constructions of ‘home’, are imagined

and established through the return visit. Given that the migrant feels

The Home Town Revisited

339

spaesato, or out of place, in both his or her old and new home, it is

during the act of visiting, of moving between places, between homes, that the emigrant feels most at home. ‘Home’ is thus a constantly negotiated place for the migrant. Certain types of knowledges are required to find the road home and the San Fiorese take pains to maintain the necessary ties with their homeland to know the way. Their answer to questions about where is homeland were invariably something along the lines of. ‘My paese [town] is always my home, but my family is here’. For the second generation migrants at least, the call of the bell is in one place and that of the parent in another. These responses reveal the tug-of-war (love) between the two places, made even more difficult by the fact that the original justification for settling here is no longer valid, after all, l’America has arrived in Treviso. One way of resolving these tensions is to visit both homes regularly, so that some people often feel most at home when they are journeying

between

homes.

This pilgrim-like

state, where

the

destination is always some place else, presents the idea of the visit home as constitutive of migrant identity. Here the movement implied in migrancy is given primacy.

Appendices

1 2 3

Migration Charts Genealogies Visits

343 348 354

Appendix 1: Migration Charts

343

SANTOLO

ZAMIN cS

pad

IBENERDINA | NATALE

Ae

Wa | aLo

fo %

1

SEBASTIANO

|

wos_“\ UMBERTO

:1

w

£

LUCIANO

| |

GIUSEPPE!

1

|

1927

“\

NICOLO

[FRANCESCO

!

x

| GAETANO DOMENICO |

1928

as

!

FERNANDO

ee

1

ANGELO

|

| | 1929

|

i

ENRICO | RAFAELE

|1 '

'

1

|

1935

|

Lr 1936

1935

1 \

PIERO

| 1

CARNIEL TT

LIQ

1937

i

1938

ri

oxo

;

dé

\ LUCIA)

|

i 1

=e

FRANCO|

CA

STEFANO

sivio

1/

A

a es

EMMA

[|

OUT

RUGGERO

I

| |]

NANDO

TERESINA PREO |

|

Sd

ALBERTA

LUIGI

'

The first cluster migrations to Australia from San Fior (Santolo, Zamin, Carniel and Boaro families)

V

AO

LOREN

344

Appendix 1: Migration Charts FRANCESCO SANTOLO

1929

FRANCO ZAMIN (MATERNAL

NO RELATION

DIEGO ZAMIN

MARIO ZAMIN

ETTORE BOTTEON

ALLESSANDRO, BENATO

(BROTHERS)

1950 MARIA

GIACOMO BOTTAN

So

TOMASO CONT!

FIRST COUSINS

1951

MICHELE PERIN

Na

ILARIO PERIN

PIETRO GARDIN

ARNALDO PIVA

FIRST COUSINS

x BERTO

ZAMIN

1957 ANITA

Franco Zamin’s cluster migration chart. Franco is credited with having ‘called’ the most townspeople to Perth. He was instrumental in facilitating the 1950s migration wave from San Fior to Perth.

Appendix 1: Migration Charts

345

1929

FRANCO ZAMIN

(MATERNAL NEPHEW)

DIEGO

50

RENATA

1951

|

Se?

MARIO

ALLESSANDRO

BOTTEON:

ELIANA TONOSZAMIN

SOFIA MAZZERZAMIN

1952

ETTORE

RENSO BENATO

ADELE ZAMIN-

Padto CAMERIN

MARIA

BERTO

Lus BOTTEON

ENNIO BENATO

1954 i

r

SEVERINA

a MAZZER

1956

DANCE

ZAMIN

1957

CARLO

ZAMIN

OQ

NEUA

“ISAGELLA ZAMIN

The 1950s cluster migrations to Australia from San Fior

(Botteon, Zamin, Benato, Camerin and Mazzer families)

346

Appendix 1: Migration Charts FRANCESCO SANTOLO

1929

FRANCO ZAMIN

1958

1950

1952

(MATERNAL NEPHEW)

GIACOMO BOTTAN

LIDIA

TOMASO CONTI

ALESSIA

MICHELE ILARIO res

DON

NADIA

PIETRO GARDIN

ARNALDO PNA

LJ IN

VIVIANA

GUIDO ZAMIN

1956

CORINA ZAMIN

1959 FELICITA

The 1950s cluster migrations to Australia from San Fior (Bottan and Zamin families)

©

MOTHER

Appendix 1: Migration Charts

347

FRANCESCO SANTOLO

FRANCO ZAMIN

50

1951

a PARP

CREE “RBSA

1952

CJ

1954

CI

ENRICO

1956 ANDREA

GARDIN

1960

The 1950s cluster migrations to Australia from San Fior (Gardin family)

EMILIO0

Appendix 2: Genealogies 348

Bung ONeg

ujwez

anuy cos

SU0Q

—-

O18

ee

ON

~V

—peuipepun

ejewey

YW

O

Pememelu!

Ww

eddesniny

payeujyedes

1ue7

eyes6iw jou pip

BuueueW

(sattuiry ulWeZ pue O1vog ‘O[OIURS) BITBISNY UaiIsaMA Ul SatfIwIe} asa101.j ues Isapjo FUL

Bsr] BUBjeIS

S25

euuy

349

Appendix 2: Genealogies

oyeuibey 08d

‘61m

ejeyen | eseD

pueueg

oyeueg

796

VM

a

(Salfluiey [a1UeD pure ojoluKs ‘uIWeZ) PuL[SUINd UI SarfIwe] aSa101.] URS ISaPjO IY]

“BON Pely cueg Bebuy Ezmeg OveqoY

JOUORIA

(10) ojowues

qo

Buy

ujwez oouely

ould

ulwez

(vM) O1o1UeS

ojojueg

Santolo (WA)

Zamin

The 1950s migrant family genealogies (Zamin. Botteon. Camerin and Mazzer families)

350 Appendix 2: Genealogies

li

i

The 1950s migrant family genealogies (Bottan, Benato and Conti families)

Appendix 2: Genealogies 351

Of

Ol]

Of}

i

Appendix 2: Genealogies 352

wong

py

wyeqes;

‘9

eyored

wen

Auueg

syeg

|ormueg ‘s

oweueg suey

Ajturey upwez ayy jo suoneiauad Ino

eid opreury

uuwez 's |" 8z8Ip

™

eyewe}

V O

Yu

pemeuelu! = peulepun

peyeuyedes

Ww

ujwez oousiy

ojojues

eyes6}w Jou pip

ujwez

353 Appendix 2: Genealogies

C=Ȥ|

woueg

wueIUD

Ayre} urpied ay] jo suoneiauad aay

ong

eelpuy

couuz

ulple

BEY

o1B1015)

owing

Appendix 3: Visits 354

HHHR

*

*

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*

76 16/06 68/88 28/98 S8/+8 €8/78 18/08 6L/8L LL/OL SL/FL ELITL IL/0L 69/89 19/99 S9/+9 €9/79 19/09 6S/8S LS/9G SS/FS Ot/8b LE/IE

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* SS

355 Appendix 3: Visits

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(uaspylyopueid 10 uar/p]iyo pue syuared) usta Aywwej#

0)

+

WH

JOLJ Ues 01 SUSIA SURIZIWIA_y

Aieul 0] VSIA UIMIIY “siayoeaq Ul UMOYS UONBAZTWUT JO eq

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Ayes] WOIy SIONSTA

eull

uyof

SONOL

{1S61] Oord

(eIzeisy) Ayer] WIJ S1OVSIA, Auueg

ew ([9c61] BuLOD [zs61] OpmD NINVZ

03,

Ajeqy woay SIOUSIA,

{sc61] Bra

[Z7S61] 108d NIWaWV5,

Ajeiy Woody SIOVISIA

(S61) ey

NVLLO0g

loser] owozert

Appendix 3: Visits

356

Table 2 Types of visits between Perth and San Fior Time of visit

Type of visit

Stated motives

Social consequences

1920s-1950s

single men

marriage

sistemazione

prodigal’s return

repent, renew identity

reconciliation, transformation

family ties,

decide where

(pre-WWIl migrants) 1955-1965

first visit

with family

justify

1955-1965

repatriation

economic,

(post-war)

special visits

migration

cultural

obligations

to settle

sistemazione,

renew identity family ties

(funerals) 1960s+

subsequent

visits

family ties,

consolidate ties,

pilgrimage

cultural renewal

1970s+

second generation

family ties, cultural renewal

rite de passage, transformation

1970s+

San Fiorese visit

family ties

consolidate ties

Perth relatives

Glossary

Associazione Trevisani nel Mondo (ATM) Association for Trevisani throughout the World The membership of this association is open to all migrants from the province of Treviso, including people who migrate seasonally, those who have repatriated and those who are permanently settled abroad. The ATM

head office is in Treviso, Italy, and the associa-

tion has branches throughout the world, including one in each capital city in Australia except Hobart. A number of provinces in Italy boast similar organisations. The ATM could be described as a social and welfare association. It has a successful international magazine and a website. bella figura a complex cultural concept associated with societies characterised by discourses of honour and shame _ Bella figura relates to an individual's public ‘face’ or reputation. To make a ‘bella figura’ is to make a good impression. In contemporary Italian society, bella figura is most clearly manifest in public behaviour and dress standards but it can be relevant to any social event including, for example, gift-giving and entertaining.

benessere affluence The people I interviewed describe the Veneto region today as characterised by benessere. They use this term to highlight the significant social and economic transformation of the region during the last century, from a place of poverty, into one of the wealthiest regions in Italy. In popular discourse, benessere is associated with the (mythical) wealth America was believed to hold for migrants. Sometimes the term benessere is replaced with the word ‘America’. For example, people say that ‘America’ has arrived in the Veneto.

bonboniere keepsakes or mementoes that mark the special occasions of Italian social and religious life Today, bonboniere are given to family and friends at the celebrations that accompany christenings, com357

358

Glossary

munions, confirmations, weddings and anniversaries. They are also sent to (emigrant) relatives who live abroad. These items form part of the general grammar of collected mementoes in Italian culture. They usually consist of five sugared almonds wrapped in tulle and tied to a small gift, commonly a figurine. Traditionally, bonboniere were given only at

weddings, to thank the guests for attending and as a token exchange that acknowledged the value of the wedding gifts. campanilismo a complex cultural concept, particularly relevant to small communities, that refers to people’s attachment to place or spatial selfidentity

In its simplest translation it means localism or parochialism. It

stems from the term campanile (bell-tower). The meaning of the word

(which might be translated literally as ‘bell-towerism’) derives from the

theory that, historically, the church bell-tower was the focal point of every

town and therefore an expression of the inhabitants’ community identity. campo field Depending on the context, campo can also mean area, ground, space or domain and is often used to refer to small piazzas like those in Venice. Public space can be differentiated into the campo spirituale

(religious space) comprising the church and the cemetery (also known as the camposanto) and the campo materiale (non-religious space). Other examples of space differentiation include campo giochi (children’s playground), campo sportivo (sports ground) etc.

chiacchiere

gossip

classe

class, age cohort, year group or school class_

The term refers to all

civile

a complex cultural concept associated with Mediterranean societies

those people who were born in the same year. It also refers to class, as in social class or status.

that refers to the values and ideas people associate with civil society or

being civilised

Notions of respectability, morality, status, being well

educated and well mannered are implicit in this term. The term was traditionally understood as the opposite of rural. commercianti dealers, retailers or middlemen

communitas an anthropological term that refers to the communal sense of belonging that characterises the liminal (in-between) stage in rites of

passage People who experience communitas feel a sense of oneness or unity in community. It is characterised by a shared emotional response. comparatico (Spanish: compadrazgo) godparentage ties The special bonds, rights and responsibilities that are implied in the relationship between godparents and their godchildren and between godparents and

their godchildren’s parents. compare compare/i and the female equivalent, comare/i are wedding wit-

nesses, baptism sponsors (godparents) or confirmation sponsors Being a compare/comare entails entering into a special relationship with the

family concerned, replete with rights and responsibilities that often have regional differences.

comune

municipality, shire or town council

divided into a number

Every Italian province

is

of comuni (shires). Each comune is divided into

frazioni (hamlets). Comuni and frazioni are often referred to by the more general term paese (town).

ay

Glossary

359

detti popular sayings or proverbs ferragosto the nationwide holiday held in August when schools and busi-

nesses close for the summer vacation

festa/e a variety of celebrations including private parties, public holidays and religious festivals frazione/i_ hamlet Each comune (municipality or town council) is divided

into a number of frazioni or hamlets. The Shire of San Fior has three

frazioni: San Fior di Sopra, San Fior di Sotto and Castello Roganzuollo. furberia

shrewdness, cunning

The San Fiorese were well known for their

keen business acumen that was partly attributed to furberia. The ability

to be furbi is generally respected in Italy, even though it refers to the ability to cheat and avoid being cheated by others.

gelatai ice cream vendors The seasonal migrants who own businesses or work in the ice-cream parlour industry in Germany and other European countries.

ho fatto venire git’ I made/enabled someone to migrate The Italian expression ho fatto venire gi was often used by informants when referring to their siblings, fiancées, children and parents, meaning that they had financed the migration and initial settlement of their immediate families. The English expression, ‘I called’, and the Italian, ho chiamato, were used

by informants to refer to those people who requested their sponsorship

and/or aid to migrate.

il look italiano

Italian

a particular fashion style that is internationally identified as

People I spoke to described a ‘look’ that includes expensive

designer clothes, gold jewellery, full face make-up for women and styled hair. il Mezzogiorno southern Italy The phrase, il problema del Mezzogiorno refers to the political, social and economic difficulties facing the southern regions of Italy compared to the more affluent northern regions. italianita Italian-ness The set of values and beliefs an individual associates with being Italian. la miseria a time of great poverty It is characterised by hunger and not having enough to eat, or at least not having a healthy diet. It is also

referred to as i tempi magri (the thin times) or il tempo di fame (the time of hunger). The period known as la miseria in the Veneto stemmed from

about the mid-1800s until after World War II. The time of greatest economic crisis occurred during the early 1930s. In general historical terms, the Veneto was known during this era as ‘the south of the north’,

being the most economically depressed of the northern regions. Laguna Veneto Social and Bocce Club _ the Veneto club in Perth, established in 1961 It is also referred to as the Laguna Veneto Club, the Laguna Bocce Club or Laguna. Marocchini

Moroccans

Used

in colloquial speech,

it refers to the street

vendors in Italy, who are predominantly immigrants from Africa. mezzadri_ sharecropping tenants The mezzadria (sharecropping) system of land tenure that operated in many parts of Italy including the Veneto

is virtually non-existent today. Landowners (padroni) would lease their land to tenants (mezzadri) in exchange for half their produce.

360

Glossary

miracolo miracle The economic boom that occurred in the north of Italy in the mid-1900s and transformed the Veneto from a place of miseria (poverty) to the place of benessere (affluence) it is considered today. nostalgia homesickness The term stems from the Greek nostos (to return). paesani townspeople, townsmen, countrymen Depending on the context, particularly in migrant settings, the term can refer to people from the same town, province, region or even nation. paese town, home town, country, homeland The term is used to refer to both comune (shire) and frazione (hamlet), and also as a general reference for country (i.e. nation).

pane vin bonfire The words pan and vin are from the dialect spoken in Treviso. They translate into standard Italian as pane (bread) and vino (wine). However, pan e vin is Trevisano dialect for ‘bonfire’, which in

standard Italian is fald. Bonfires are lit in the Veneto on the eve of the Epiphany (5 January) heralding the twelfth night after Christmas. The Epiphany commemorates the manifestation of the Christ child to the Magi.

pellagra a disease characterised by cracking of the skin It is caused by inadequate diet resulting in a deficiency in vital nutrients. polentoni a colloquial term for northern Italians, derived from the widespread use of polenta as a traditional dish in the northern regions Historically, polenta was a staple food in these regions and was associated with poverty. People are said to have eaten polenta when there was nothing else to eat, particularly as a substitute for bread. Polenta is a type of porridge made from maize flour or buckwheat depending on the particular region. The polenta eaten in the Veneto is made from maize and has a runny consistency (like honey). Polentoni is a generally less pejorative term than its counterpart terroni, which refers to southern Italians. pro loco a type of local promotion committee or local tourist office common to many Italian towns It is often a group of volunteers or local inhabitants who organise the local feste (feast days and other local celebrations). sagra a community celebration (for example, a local fair) which usually includes communal eating, drinking and dancing and often accompanies a religious festa si danno da fare a popular saying about people who are industrious, hardworking, ingenious or adept at finding work for themselves The inhabitants of San Fior were collectively defined as an industrious people due to their business activities in hawking and recycling. They were considered to be good at taking initiatives and making them successful. sistemazione setup This complex concept is the cultural value placed on being successfully established (set up) or settled with house, occupation (preferably in self-employment) and family. The people I interviewed explained that they migrated in order to be able to achieve a successful sistemazione.

It is a culturally defined value, ‘to be set up’, that one

should strive to achieve.

Glossary

361

soprannome nickname Many Italian families have a soprannome or nickname in addition to their surname. This nickname is usually known only within the confines of their village. The use of these nicknames is still prevalent in some parts of Italy and among Italian migrants in Australia. They often take the form of toponyms (place names). sotto

under, beneath

To be sotto (under, under the governance of) means

to be in a subordinate position and is similar to the English expression ‘under the thumb’. It is often used of wives and their husbands, and the

sexual connotations are obvious. A man will invariably joke with his friends that his wife has him sotto, especially if he is caught doing chores or running errands for her. spaesato lost, displaced, out of sorts One who does not know his/her way around. Literally, to be out of one’s town. storia history, story straccivendoli

ragmen, rag and bone collectors

The traditional occupation

of the inhabitants of San Fior was the ambulatory collection of rags, bones, rabbit skins and, more recently, scrap metal.

sveglia fuori a popular expression often used by parents to chide their children The phrase approximates the English expressions ‘wake up to yourself’ and ‘sort yourself out’. terroni a pejorative and condescending term for southern Italians The word is derived from terra (earth, soil) and is associated with the notion of peasant life. The implication of the term is base, primitive, uncouth,

uncultured.

via dolorosa the passion of Christ A reference to the suffering Christ endured on the way to His crucifixion. The expression is used to refer to suffering in life. vongole clams

Notes

Introduction 1 2 3

e2rnanwu

4

W. Connor, ‘Beyond Reason’. V. Turner, Dramas, Fields and Metaphors. A. Game & A. Metcalfe, Passionate Sociology, pp. 26-42.

For a discussion of ‘double cultural competences’, see G. Bottomley, From Another Place, pp. 123-36. For a discussion of ‘hybrid spaces’, see H. Bhabha, ‘Location, Intervention, Incommensurability’. L. Baldassar, ‘Marias and Marriage’; L. Baldassar ‘Italo-Australian Youth in Perth’.

L. Baldassar, ‘The Return Visit as Pilgrimage’. C. Price, Ethnic Groups in Australia, p. vi. I. H. Burnley, ‘Convergence or Occupational and Residential Segmentation?’, p. 66. Linguist Michael Clyne'’s findings that language phonation habits are fixed somewhere between the ages of 12 and 14 would support Burnley's argument for distinguishing between 2a's and 2b’s. See M. Clyne, Perspectives on Language Contact, pp. 12-13. E. Vasta, ‘Multiculturalism and Ethnic Identity’, pp. 155-6. G. Gold, Minorities and Mother Country Imagery. See Bottomley, From Another Place, p. 4; see also, U. Hannerz, Cultural Complexity, p. 246. C. O'Neal, ‘Possibilities For Migration Anthropology’; see also, L. Basch, N. Glick Schiller & C. Szanton Blanc, Nations Unbound.

J. Wilton & R. Bosworth, Old Worlds and New Australians, p. 9. L. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes. C.

Price,

The Method

and Statistics of ‘Southern

Europeans

in Australia’,

emphasis. M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, p. 49. Bottomley, From Another Place, p. 3. E. Agnoletti, Emigrazione Cento Anni 26 Milioni, p. 1219, my translation. S. Castles,

emphasis.

C. Alcorso,

G.

Rando

@

E. Vasta

(eds), Australia’s

R. Mandel, ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’.

Italians,

p. 10,

p. 36,

his

original

Notes to pages 6 to 19 21 22 23 24 25

26 27 28 29 30

31 32 33

34 35

363

E. Said, ‘Zionism from the Standpoint of its Victims’, p. 18. Z. Bauman,

‘From Pilgrim to Tourist—or a Short History of Identity’, p. 20.

C. Delaney, ‘The Hajj’, p. 513. Bauman,

‘From Pilgrim to Tourist’.

See Bhabha, ‘Location, Intervention, N.

Glick Schiller, L. Basch

Incommensurability’.

& C. Blanc-Szanton,

Towards a Transnational Perspective on

Migration, p. 6.

A. Gupta & J. Ferguson, ‘Beyond “Culture”, p. 6. U. Beck, ‘The Cosmopolitan Perspective’. See L. Baldassar & C. Baldock, ‘Linking Migration and Family Studies’. See R. Robertson, ‘Glocalization: Time-Space and Homogeneity-Heterogeneity’, for another notion that attempts to link the tensions of localism and globalisation, albeit with regard to business organisation and marketing . Basch et al., Nations Unbound, p. 7.

L. Baldassar, ‘Home and Away’.

Mandel, ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’, pp. 160-1. Bottomley, From Another Place, p. 4. D. Zinn, ‘The Senegalese Immigrants in Bari’, drawing on J. Adler’, ‘Travel as Performed Art’, p. 58.

36

37 38 39

P. Mayer, ‘Migrancy and the Study of Africans in Towns’, p. 576. N. Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, p. 4. R. M. Prothero & M. Chapman

Ibid., p. 2.

(eds), Circulation in Third World Countries, p. 437.

For a discussion of social field, see J. C. Mitchell, ‘The Causes of Labour Migration’, 41

42 43

and J. C. Mitchell, ‘Towards a Situational Sociology of Wage-Labour Circulation’. Prothero & Chapman, Circulation in Third World Countries, p. 3. Ibid., p. 3.

Ibid., p. 4.

Ibid., p. 5. 45 46

47 48 49 50 51

52

53

Mitchell, ‘Towards a Situational Sociology of Wage-Labour Circulation’, p. 18. Bottomley,

in From Another Place, introduces the notion of migration

as transnational

interaction.

Bottomley, From Another Place, in particular ch. 1. A. Appadurai, ‘Global Ethnoscapes’, p. 192. Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, p. 4. C. Stack, ‘Black Return Migration’.

E Barth (ed.), Ethnic Groups and Boundaries, and A. P. Cohen,

The Symbolic Construction

of Community. The Australian Bureau of Statistics 1996 Census data indicated that there were 238 258 Italian-born persons and 333880 persons with at least one parent born in Italy; together, they comprised 572 138 persons, or 3.2 per cent of the total Australian population of 17 752 645. For another reference to the significance of photographs in the migration experience, see M. Thomas, ‘Dislocations of Desire’.

54

L. Richards, Nobody’s Home,

55

L. Passerini, Fascism in Popular Memory, p. 1.

56 57 58

p. x.

See A. Schutz, The Phenonemology of the Social World. See M. Foucault's volumes, The History of Sexuality, and Power/Knowledge. The Laguna Veneto Social and Bocce Club is variously referred to by its members as ‘Laguna’, ‘Laguna Veneto Club’, ‘Laguna Bocce Club’ and other variations on its full

name. As such, it also appears in this book in variations on the full name according to the context of the reference. S. Gal, Language Shift.

364

Notes to pages 20 to 38

Licence to Leave, Obligations to Receive 1

eC

ananuey

2

H. Callan & S. Ardener, The Incorporated Wife, p. 10. Vu compra is an entreaty commonly used by African street vendors. It derives from the Italian vuole comprare (would you like to buy). For a discussion of these vendors, see L. D. Zinn, ‘The Senegalese Immigrants in Bari’, andJ. Cole, The New Racism in Europe. M. Banks, Ethnicity; R. Jenkins, Rethinking Ethnicity. SeeJ. Martin, Community and Identity, p. 128; L. Bertelli, ‘Where to the Italo-Australian?’. C. Price, ‘The Second Generation’, p. 4.

Bertelli, ‘Italian Families’, p. 70. See H. Gans, ‘Symbolic Ethnicity’ and ‘Symbolic Ethnicity and Symbolic Religiosity’. M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, p. 23. For a discussion of the importance of separating the concepts of ethnicity and culture, see H. Vermeulen & C. Govers, The Anthropology of Ethnicity, p. 6; G. Bottomley, ‘Culture, Ethnicity and The Politics/Poetics of Representation’; G. Bottomley, ‘PostMulticulturalism?’, p. 62; G. Bottomley, ‘Anthropologists and the Rhizomatic Study of Migration’, p. 35; and C. Eipper, ‘The Magician's Hat’. See L. Baldassar, ‘Italianita and the Second Generation’.

L. Baldassar, ‘Italo-Australian Youth in Perth’. L. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes; R. Bosworth, ‘Cop What Lot?’; G. Cresciani, 13 15 16

7 18 19

20 21 22 23

24 25 26

27

28

29

‘Italians in Australia’.

R. Pascoe, Buongiorno Australia. D. Gabaccia, ‘For Us There Are No Frontiers’, p. 10.

W. D. Borrie, Australia and the Migrant. M. Thomas, Dreams in the Shadows.

E. Vasta, ‘The Second Generation’. See di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience,

for a discussion of the ‘ethnicity

industry’.

M. Young, ‘Police Wives’, pp. 78-9. Young is referring to D. Pocock, Mind, Body and

Wealth. E. Leach, Social Anthropology, p. 124. Callan & Ardener, The Incorporated Wife, p. 10. K. Verdery, ‘Ethnicity, Nationalism, and State-Making’, p. 42. Callan & Ardner, The Incorporated Wife, p. 10. Di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, p. 17. Ibid., p. 31. The Italian expression sotto (to be ‘under’ someone) means to be in a subordinate position and is similar to the English expression ‘under the thumb’. People often use a hand-sign, which implies ‘to be under someone’, by placing their left hand over their right thumb. I have seen this sign used in both serious and joking contexts. A person might use the sign to indicate that their boss is very strict or that they themselves have got someone under their control. It is often used with reference to wives and their husbands, the sexual connotations are obvious. A man will invariably joke with his friends that his wife has him sotto, especially if he is caught doing chores or running errands for her. The mezzadria system of sharecropping meant that large families were essential to work the farms. By World War II it had almost disappeared, and since then unilocal residence has been preferred. Often, however, one son remains in the parental household and is expected to shelter his retired parents. Ceneda and its neighboring village, Seravalle, became Vittorio Veneto in 1918 to commemorate the victorious end to World War I. The front line had reached these villages when the ceasefire was called. Di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, p. 32.

Notes to pages 39 to 59 30

365

Ibid., pp. 37, 32.

31

R. M. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 90; S. Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization,

p. 196.

32

C. Arensberg & S. Kimball, Family and Community in Ireland, pp. 73, 75. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family, p. 75.

33

34

Arensberg & Kimball, Family and Community, p. 147. D. Gabaccia notes that migration transformed Italian rural areas into a world of peasantworkers; ‘Worker Internationalism and Italian Labor Migration, 1870-1914’, p. 67. For a discussion of ‘peasant-worker’ communities in Friuli, north-eastern Italy, see

35

D. R. Holmes, Cultural Disenchantments. 36

Arensberg & Kimball, Family and Community, pp.

Ibid., p. 262.

37

145-6.

Nostalgia and the Signs of Separation 1 2 3

4

R. Holton, Globalization and the Nation-State.

K. S. Inglis, ‘Monuments in the Modern City’, p. 85. E. Vasta, ‘Multiculturalism and Ethnic Identity’, p. 221.

Personal communication from Professor Antonino Buttitta of the Department of Anthropology, University of Palermo, Sicily. See E. Franzina, La Grande Emigrazione. The local bank in Tarzo is the Cassa Rurale ed Artigiana delle Prealpi (Rural and Artisan bank of the Prealps).

A. Schutz uses the term ‘consociates’ to refer to individuals who share time and place— those whom we directly experience in face-to-face relationships—in contrast to ‘contemporaries'—those with whom we share time but not place; see Schutz, The Phenomenology of the Social World, especially pp. 109, 196. Although Schutz’s basic definition of ‘contemporaries’ states that they do not share place, he does refer to contemporaries in face-to-face situations; see, for example, A. Schutz @ T. Luckmann,

The Structures of the Life-World, p. 84; M. Wagner (ed.), Alfred Schutz, p. 228. L. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 227. These small cards (about the size of a Holy Card) are prepared to mark an individual's death and are very popular among Italians. A photograph of the deceased is featured on the front of the card with their birth and death dates and often a remembrance notice from their family. Sometimes a prayer is printed on the back. The memorial cards are distributed to family and friends, including those living abroad. B. Sartori, Tarzo—Signor d’Antica Terra. The first ATM trip occurred in 1985 from Canada. Nuovo Paese 1992, no. 6.

In 1999, legislation was passed in Italy that allows Italian nationals living abroad to vote in Italian elections. The sculptor was Prof. Evandro Carpeggiani. The marble and the bronze came from Verona. E. Benatti, Magnacavallo, o sia Comunita de’Boschi, p. 189 (my translation).

Ibid., p. 190.

Ibid., p. 194.

C. Brettell describes saudade as the nostalgia for one’s natal village experienced Portuguese migrants, in Men Who Migrate, Women Who Wait, p. 263.

by

La Gazzetta, 9 September 1990. La Gazzetta,

10 September

1990.

La Gazzetta, 30 December 1990.

See, for example, Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 230. Minutes of the meeting, 30 July 1996, Comitato Promotore del Monumento

Emigranti

Valtellinesi

e Valchiavennaschi

nel Mondo,

Museo

Etnografico

agli

Tirano

366

24

25 26

27 28

29

Notes to pages 59 to 77 (Committee for Promotion of the Monument to the Emigrants from Valtellina and Valchiavenna in the World, Ethnographic Museum, Tirano). The fact that most emigrants intended to return is well documented in the literature, as are the high rates of repatriation. For the American context, see M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, for Australia see, for example, C. Price, The Study of Assimilation in Australian Migration, and C. Price, Southern Europeans in Australia, p. 102.

Evening Advocate, 7 Evening Advocate, 5 Evening Advocate, 7 Evening Advocate, 5 This mentality was

September 1959. October 1959. September 1959. October 1959. largely due to RSL members feeling threatened by the considerable

success of the Italians in the sugar cane industry. See Australia, House of Representatives 30

1991, Debates, vol. HR178, ‘Australians of Italian Descent’, 30 May, p. 4326.

Evening Advocate, 5 October 1959.

Ibid. D. Gabaccia notes that many migrants considered the land that gave them bread

31

32 33

their homeland; p. 74. Evening Advocate, See

34

35

36

‘Worker Internationalism

D.

Gabaccia,

Australia, p. 52.

5 October ‘For

Us

and Italian Labor Migration,

1870-1914’,

1959. There

Are

No

Frontiers’,

C.

Price,

Southern

Europeans

in

SeeJ. Martin, The Migrant Presence, p. 31; C. Price (ed.), Australian Immigration, pp. A9—

A10; IACCSP, Inquiry into the Departure of Settlers from Australia. C. Newman, ‘Carrara Marble’, p. 44.

Previously, the town was called Geraldton and its main industry was banana growing. For a discussion of issues relating to the internment of Italians in Australia, see R. Bosworth & R. Ugolini (eds), War, Internment and Mass Migration. 38 The treatment of internees as criminals is documented in ‘Adjournment: World War II: Italian Internees’, Australia, Senate 1990, Debates, vol. S141, 8 November, p. 3828. 39 J. Gentilli, Italian Roots in Australian Soil, p. 40. 40 Ibid., p. 51. 41 Video of the inauguration of the monument in Cue, September 1991, copy held by 37

author.

42 Inglis, ‘Monuments in the Modern City’, p. 100. 43 See M. Jackson, At Home in the World, ch. 2. 44 A.-M. Jordens, Alien to Citizen, pp. 7, 84. 45 M. Mauss, The Gift. G. Campani, ‘Women Migrants’.

The Many Italies 1 2

3 4

L. Passerini, Fascism in Popular Memory, p. 1. J. Clifford & G. E. Marcus (eds), Writing Culture.

A.-M. Jordens, Alien to Citizen, pp. 48-58. For references to multi-sited ethnography, see G. Marcus, ‘Ethnography in/of the World System’. On

the notion

of ‘community’

in the social sciences,

see for example

A. Cohen,

The

Symbolic Construction of Community; K. Dempsey, ‘Community: Experiences and Expla-

nations’; and M. Lynn, ‘Community in Australia’. On the concept of community as an

ideal type, see K. Dempsey, Smalltown: A Study of Social Inequality, Cohesion and Belonging: R. Wild, Australian Community Studies: and K. Dempsey, ‘Community: Experiences and Explanations’ For a discussion of boundaries,

see F Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries, and Cohen,

The Symbolic Construction of Community.

D. Gabaccia, From Sicily to Elizabeth Street.

Notes to pages 77 to 89

lL

12

367

See C. Delaney, ‘The Hajj’, p. 514. Ibid. Ibid. L. Jayasuriya, ‘Immigration Policies and Ethnic Relations in Australia’.

See M. de Lepervanche, ‘Immigrants and Ethnic Groups’, M. Kalantzis, B. Cope & M. Morrissey, Mistaken Identity.

13

D. Gabaccia, ‘For Us There Are No Frontiers’.

14

E. Vasta, G. Rando,

S. Castles & C. Alcorso,

p. 173; and S. Castles,

‘The Italo-Australian

Community

on the

Pacific Rim’, p. 221.

15

L. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes. Jordens, Alien to Citizen, pp. 84,

185-7.

17

L. Baldassar, ‘Gender,

18

Gabaccia, ‘For Us There Are No Frontiers’, p. 16.

19

20 21 22

Ethnicity and Transnational Citizenship’.

Ibid. R. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 19. P. Mayer, ‘Migrancy and the Study of Africans in Towns’, p. 590. M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience.

23

Vasta et al., ‘The Italo-Australian Community

24

D. Holmes,

25 26 27

on the Pacific Rim’, p. 221.

Cultural Disenchantments, p. 24.

J. Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 52. See A. Gramsci, Selections from Cultural Writings, and Prison Notebooks. See di Leonardo,

The Varieties of Ethnic Experience,

and

S. Silverman,

Three Bells of

Civilization, for a discussion of the development of north/south antagonism; and di

28 29

Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, and Castles, Alcorso et al., Australia’s Italians, ch. 3, for evidence of northern industries draining wealth from the south. See C. Mannucci, ‘Emigrants in the Upper Milanese Area’.

There are many racist jokes that highlight the tensions between northerners and southerners. The following joke is but one example of many I heard told in Treviso. A traveller stops his car beside a mountain stream and goes to drink. A Trevisano man further up the mountain begins screaming at the traveller that the water is polluted. The traveller sees the man but cannot hear him and proceeds to drink. The Trevisano comes running down the mountain to again warn the traveller. When they are in earshot

30 31 32 33 34 35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 3

of each other the traveller asks, in a Southern

dialect, “What's wrong?’

On

hearing the traveller's accent, the Trevisano stops dead in his tracks and says, ‘Drink slowly the water's cold’. See N. Vincent, ‘Italian’.

Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 60. R. Bosworth & M. Bosworth, Fremantle’s Italy, p. 70. H. Andreoni,

‘From Giovanni

to Gio’.

Bosworth & Bosworth, Fremantle’ Italy, p. 88. See D. Cox, ‘Pluralism in Australia’; J. Martin, Community and Identity; J. Zubrzycki,

‘Towards a Multicultural Society’; and J. Zubrzycki, ‘Multiculturalism and Beyond’. C. Levy (ed.), Italian Regionalism: History, Identity and Politics. L. Baldassar, ‘Western Australia’, p. 98.

G. Gold, Minorities and Mother Country Imagery, p. 133. Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization, p. 228. J. Pitt-Rivers, The People of the Sierra, p. 8. N. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community, p. 111.

Ibid.

R. Pertierra,

in his book,

Religion,

Politics, and

Rationality

in a Philippine

Community,

p. 65, notes a similar phenomenon when discussing barrio (district) identity. While all barrios have a strong sense of community, particular barrios manifest this feeling in different ways, through different symbols of identity. G. Secco, Dimmi

Diche Paese, my translation.

368

Notes to pages 90 to 111

45 Ibid. 46 ‘Joking relations’ is used here in the anthropological sense. For a useful definition of

the concept, see D. Hunter & P. Whitten (eds), Encyclopedia of Anthropology, p. 224. 47 Silverman outlines the seemingly contradictory thesis of the relationship between

furberia (cunning) and rispetto (respect), where the shrewd and cunning are respected and honoured for their ability to cheat, and avoid being cheated by others; see Three 48

49

50 SI 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

66 67 68 69 70 71

72 73

Bells of Civilization.

See, for example, M. Loh, With Courage in Their Cases; J. Maning, C. Alcorso and G. Harrison, Blue Collar and Beyond.

‘Delivery

Day’;

See E. Franzina, La Grande Emigrazione.

Franzina,

La Grande Emigrazione,;

M.

Clark, Modern

Italy 1871-1982;

National Integration of Italian Return Migration, 1870-1929.

D. Cinel,

The

G. Bazo, F Bresolin & A. Cusinato, Analisi a Livello Comunale.

Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 61.

Bazo et al., Analisi a Livello Comunale. R. Huber, From Pasta to Pavlova, p. 15, notes that the Italian National Institute of Agrarian Economics distinguishes five main types of farm enterprises. The proprietor

who leases land to share-farmers under the system of mezzadria is classified as an entrepreneur. Bazo et al., Analisi a Livello Comunale.

W. Douglass, Emigration in a South Italian Town, p. 13. Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization, p. 106.

J. Davis, Rise from Want.

For a discussion of a silk factory in Friuli, see Holmes, Cultural Disenchantments.

Ibid. Ibid., pp. 56-7. Ibid., p. 61. E. Hobsbawm & T. Ranger (eds), The Invention of Tradition. G. Nardini, Che Bella Figura!

See E. Vasta, ‘Multiculturalism and Ethnic Identity’, pp. 167, 221; L. Baldassar, ‘Marias and Marriage’. R. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 23.

Ibid., p. 24.

Ibid., p. 94. See also Holmes, Cultural Disenchantments, p. 8. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 32.

Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 156.

For a discussion of ethnic revival see A. D. Smith, The Ethnic Revival, R. Alba, Italian Americans, W. Sollors, The Invention of Ethnicity; P. Kivisto & D. Blanck, American

Immigrants and their Generations. Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization, p. 223.

Ibid. M. Novak, ‘Pluralism in Humanistic Perspective’, p. 33.

The Social Construction of Campanilismo A. Cohen, ‘Belonging: The Experience of Culture’, p. 3 (original emphasis). R. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 3. In his discussion of Heimat, E. Hobsbawm

explains that the term is double-sided,

relating to both a private and public experience of home. The idea of Heimat is also closely linked to the past; E. Hobsbawm, ‘Introduction’, p. 67. See also M. Berman, All

that Is Solid Melts into Air, p. 333; C. Applegate, A Nation of Provincials; Z. Skrbis, Longdistance Nationalism; and D. Morley & K. Robins, ‘No Place Like Heimat’.

A. Favaro, Terra Di Villorba.

Notes to pages 112 to 125

369

Photographs and a discussion of some of these attractions are available in J. Cross, ‘Big Things’. The July/August edition of the Messaggero di Sant’Antonio contains an article that defines the tower as both a symbol of Melbourne campanilismo (especially in relation to Sydney) and as a symbol of Italian-Australian identity, p. 32. The Grollos are a well-known Melbourne family who migrated from Treviso and manage one of the largest construction companies in Victoria. See R. Pascoe, The Recollections of Luigi Grollo, and R. Pascoe,

We Work with Grollo. M. di Leonardo,

The Varieties of Ethnic Experience.

For a discussion of ‘discursive fact’, see M. Foucault, The History of Sexuality. S. Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization, p. 230. For a discussion of ‘distancing the other’, see J. Fabian, Time and the Other.

J. Pitt-Rivers, The People of the Sierra, p. 29. A. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community. A. Rees, Life in a Welsh Countryside, p. 84. Ibid., p. 84.

R. Pertierra, Religion, Politics and Rationality in a Philippine Community, p. 66. J. Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 52.

Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization, p. 175.

For an overview see D. Hunter & For deaths that notified. Deaths 20 21 22 23 24 25

26 27

28 29 30

31

32

of the anthropological categories of joking and teasing relationships, P. Whitten (eds), Encyclopedia of Anthropology, p. 224. occur during the day, the church bells toll as soon as the priest is that occur after about 6 p.m. are tolled the following morning at

8 a.m. There is a different toll for women and men (four for women, five for men).

F Barth, Ethnic Groups and Boundaries.

For a discussion of ‘consociation’, see A. Schutz, The Phenomenology of the Social World.

A. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community, p. 102. For a discussion of ‘condensation symbols’, see V. Turner, The Forest of Symbols, p. 30. A. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community, p. 102. A fact reported in the March 1992 edition of the ATM newspaper. W. Douglass, Emigration in a South Italian Town, p. 1.

Ibid., p. 4.

Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, pp. 8-11.

C. Agnoletti, Treviso e le sue Pieve: Illustrazione Storica nel XV Centenario della Istituzione del Vescovato Trevigiano (CCCXCVI —- MDCCCXCVD). Titian, a famous

Italian painter, built a holiday house in Castello (not far from the

church), which still stands today. G. Fiorot, ‘Lantico Paese di San Fior’. Civilta is the analytical concept that S. Silverman employed in her book, Three Bells of Civilization, to explore the range of meanings and the many senses that ‘being civile’ meant to her informants. The desire to be civile is similar to the desire to be Christian,

33 34

35 36 37 38

39

noted by C. Levi, in Christ Stopped at Eboli, and R. Orsi, in The Madonna of 115th Street. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 11.

See Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 61. Despite sitting squarely in la zona bianca, San Fior had a Socialist-Communist local government from 1946 to 1948. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 151.

The anguish about belonging to place, despite not being born there, is personified by the orphan-protagonist in C. Pavese’s novel, The Moon and the Bonfire. For a discussion of theories of ethnic identity, see M. Banks, Ethnicity, and R. Jenkins,

Rethinking Ethnicity. For a discussion of self-ascription, see Silverman's, Three Bells of Civilization, p. 122. See M. Gluckman, ‘Gossip and Scandal’.

370

Notes to pages 125 to 150

E. N. Cohen, in ‘Nicknames’, p. 108, defines ‘village socio-centrisme’ as ‘that powerful sense of local pride and patriotism which in Italy is termed campanilismo’. 41 E. N. Cohen, ‘Nicknames’, p. 109. 40

42 Ibid., p. 102. 3B Ibid., p. 111. 44 A. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community, p. 99. 45 See L. M. Lombardi-Satriani (ed.), Santi, Streghe e Diavoli; Silverman, Three Bells of Civilization, L. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 22; Orsi, The Madonna of

115th Street; and D. Holmes, Cultural Disenchantments, p. 24. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 101. Thompson, in her study of settlers returning from Australia to Italy, Australia Through Italian Eyes, reported similar findings. Despite having a wife and children in Perth, Alessandro wanted to be buried in San Fior because his parents had a family grave in which a space had been allocated to him. A video was made of the funeral for those relatives in Perth who could not attend. Research on how migrants manage to care for their overseas kin from a distance indicates that attendance at parents’ funerals is extremely important to the emotional well-being of the migrant child. See L. Baldassar & C. Baldock, ‘Linking Migration and Family Studies’. The entry for Befana in N. Zingarelli’s Il Nuovo Zingarelli dictionary lists four meanings: epiphany (manifestation); the folklore character who gives children gifts; hag; and epiphany gift. The word for witch in the Veneto dialect, strega, is used interchangeably with Befana. Pan e Vin bonfires have not been built in Perth since the late 1960s, principally because it is very hot and dry in Perth in January and there are fire restrictions. Harlequin is a very poor boy who doesn’t have a dress for Carnival, so all his friends give him the cuttings from their costumes and he makes a colourful patch costume. Pulcinella is a Neapolitan character who wears a white dress and bed cap, half mask eyes and nose. Balanzone is a well-to-do fat man from Venice who wears a black costume with cape and white face. In some frazioni, a festa is organised for a special reason; for example, the frazione of Tarzo—Frattas—Festa dell’emigrante. In Colmaggiore, Tarzo, the festa coincides with the chestnut harvest. In Corbanese, Tarzo, the festa celebrates the production of new

46 47

48

49

50

51 52

53

wine.

Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 178. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 40.

54 55

Ibid., p. 211.

56

Ibid., p. 40.

57

Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. xviii.

58

Ibid., p. 58. The cemetery is also known as the camposanto or the campo dei santi.

59

60 61

A. Cohen (ed.), Belonging, Identity and Social Organisation in British Rural Cultures, p. 91.

62

Ibid., p. 58.

Ibid., p. 58.

63

Ibid., p. 58.

64 65

Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 22.

66

Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 165.

Ibid., p. 22.

67

Sistemazione and the Process of Migration 1

See S. Ortner, ‘On Key Symbols’, and C. Delaney, ‘The Hajj’, for a discussion of key symbols. Similar notions include Turner's concept of root paradigms (see V. Turner,

Notes to pages 150 to 158

371

Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors) and Neville’s systematic repertoire of ideas (see G. Neville, Kinship and Pilgrimage). FE Barth, ‘Enduring and Emerging Issues in the Analysis of Ethnicity’. See

R.

Rosaldo,

Ilongot

Headhunting,

p. 31,

for

a discussion

of his

own

and

other

anthropologists’ use of statements that informants make about their past lives in reconstructing their histories. In the last two decades, there has been a higher incidence of in-migration to San Fior than out according to ISTAT sources; see in particular the 7th Censimento Generale Dell'Industria e dei Servizi 21 October 1991, Table 6, p. 69.

The anagraphic records kept by the comuni include a register of cancellations and registrations of residence in individual shires. The transfer of residence records may be used as a measure of migratory movement but they do not provide an accurate picture of the specific year of transfer. The years that appear in the records refer to the year in which the transfer was recorded. L. Thompson, in Australia Through Italian Eyes, points out that a notice of transfer may come to the attention of the comune authorities some years after it took place. Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 208. See J. Goody (ed.), The Developmental Cycle in Domestic Groups; see also P. Laslett (ed.),

Household and Family in Past Time, and M. Young & P. Willmott, Family and Kinship in East London. See R. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, E. Franzina, La Grande Emigrazione, D. Mack-Smith,

and the Risorgimento.

Victor Emanuel, Cavour,

Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 18.

iW 12

13 14 15

According to Franzina, European migratory routes had been followed from an even earlier date; see La Grande Emigrazione. Ibid. See R. Lampugnani, ‘Postwar Migration Policies’. See L. Sponza, Italian Immigrants in Nineteenth Century Britain.

Ibid. Pavese’s character, Anguilla, in The Moon and the Bonfire, is a typical representation of the repatriated I’americano migrant. See R. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 148; CSRES, I Movimenti Migratori Del Veneto, p. 94. Pellagra is a deficiency disease marked by cracking of the skin. E G. Friedmann, ‘The World of La Miseria’, pp. 221-2. See, for example,

C. Levi, Christ Stopped at Eboli, Bell, Fate, Honor,

Family and Village;

Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street; and especially E. Banfield, Moral Basis ofa Backward

20

21 22

23

Society. See, for example, P Audenino, Un Mestiere Per Partire; P. Viazzo, Upland Communities; D. Holmes, Cultural Disenchantments; M. Sartori & F. Ursini, Cent’anni Di Emigrazione;

Thompson, Australia Through Italian Eyes, and R. Huber, From Pasta to Pavlova. Friedmann, ‘The World of La Miseria’, p. 227.

Another way people drew comparisons between la miseria of the past and the benessere of today was with reference to cloth. Roberto told me how his sister used the cloth packaging of the parcels from abroad to make herself underclothes. Grazia recalls that the family would buy material once a year. From this cloth everyone would have a new outfit which would be used for Sunday mass. The former Sunday dress would then be used for shopping and going to the stable in the evenings to meet with friends. Older dresses would be used for work until they became so tattered that they would be sold to the rag collectors or used as household rags. The contents of an individual's wardrobe during la miseria compares starkly with the preoccupation with bella figura and the expensive consumerism that exists today. See di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, pp. 51-2.

372 24

Notes to pages 158 to 186 U. Ascoli, I Movimenti Migratori in Italia, pp. 57-60. Joseph Gentilli categorises Italian migration to Western Australia into four main periods: ‘the period of the individualists (1840-1901), proletarian migration (1901-1930), the period of economic crisis to the end of the war (1931-1945) and planned mass migration (1946-1970)’; Gentilli, Italian Roots in Australian Soil, p. 15. Emigrants from Valtellina (a valley in the province of Sondrio, in Italy’s northern-most region of Lombardy) had begun migrating to Western Australia in the late 1800s (see Gentilli, Italian Roots in Australian Soil). It is feasible that contacts made through internal and European migration may have paved the way of the first San Fiorese to Australia. The English expression, ‘I called’, and the Italian, ‘Ho chiamato’, were used by informants to refer to those people who requested their sponsorship and/or aid to migrate. The Italian expression ‘ho fatto venire’ (1 made/enabled someone to come) was often used by men when referring to their siblings, fiancees, children and parents, meaning that they had financed the migration and initial settlement of their immediate families.

25

26

27

28

Bell, Fate, Honor,

Family and Village, p. 157, notes that the local priest served

as a

principle vehicle for communication into and out of the village. For a history of the Northam holding camp, see N. Peters, Milk and Honey But No Gold. Narrogin is a small rural town about 200 kilometres south-east of Perth.

29 30

31

J. Wilton & R. Bosworth, Old Worlds and New Australians, p. 21;J. Martin, The Migrant Presence, p. 30.

32

A.-M. Jordens, Alien to Citizen, pp. 52-8.

33

Gentilli, Italian Roots in Australian Soil; see also Thompson, Eyes; and R. Pesman, ‘Italian Women and Mass Migration’.

34

Australia Through Italian

Pesman, ‘Italian Women and Mass Migration’, p. 191. Gentilli, Italian Roots in Australian Soil, p. 18, notes that the imbalance between the sexes in this period was greatest in Western Australia.

35

Pesman, ‘Italian Women and Mass Migration’, p. 191.

Ibid.

36 37

Martin, Community and Identity, p. 112; see also G. Campani, ‘Women Migrants’, p. 546. M. de Lepervanche, ‘Immigrants and Ethnic Groups’, p. 171.

38 39

E. Vasta, ‘Multiculturalism and Ethnic Identity’.

40

R. Evans & K. Saunders, ‘No Place Like Home’.

41

Vasta, ‘Multiculturalism and Ethnic Identity’.

42

L. Caldwell, ‘Women as the Family’. Of course there were some: Franca Arena (Labor Party MP and founder of the National Italian-Australian Women’s Association), who migrated alone in 1959, is perhaps the best-known example. 44 See C. Pateman, ‘The Marriage Contract’; and L. Baldassar, ‘Gender, Ethnicity and Transnational Citizenship’. 45 In 1993 the Perth branch of FILEF organised a photographic exhibition of Italian migrants’ work experiences in Western Australia. The forty photos they chose to exhibit all portrayed scenes of work. None of the photos represented formal poses and the organisers told me how difficult their search for relevant photographs had been. 46 For a discussion of the way men and women recount their migration stories, see M. Chamberlain, ‘Gender and the Narratives of Migration’. Like me, Chamberlain found that men tend to define themselves as autonomous actors in the migration process while women locate themselves in a set of social relationships. 43

47

Di Leonardo, ‘The Female World of Cards and Holidays’.

This theme is explored by A. M. Dell’oso in her short story ‘Homeland’.

48

Campanilismo in the Host Country 1 2

M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, pp. 93-4. R. Bosworth & M. Bosworth, Fremantle’ Italy, p. 42.

Notes to pages 186 to 215

373

The Italian scappare translates as both to escape and to run away. For a discussion of the antagonism between pre- and post-war Italian migrants, see

Bosworth & Bosworth, Fremantle’ Italy, pp. 151-2, and A. Strano, Luck Without Joy. > R. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 21.

The Santolo brothers’ attempt at buying their land by raising money through emigration fits with the evidence

from J. Briggs, An Italian Passage, that where

available for sale there were high rates of emigration. See

E.

Franzina,

La

Grande

Emigrazione,

S. Jacini,

I Risultati

Della

land was made Inchiesta

Agraria

1884. See J. Martin,

10 ll 12 13 14

Australia, Internees’, Australia, Internees’,

The Migrant Presence.

Senate 1990, Debates, 8 November, p. 3828. Senate 1991, Debates, 14 August, p. 339.

vol.

$141,

‘Adjournment:

World

War

IL: Italian

vol.

$147,

‘Adjournment:

World

War

II: Italian

Bosworth & Bosworth, Fremantle’s Italy, p. 131. R. K. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure. R. Huber, From Pasta to Pavlova.

S. luliano, ‘Donne e Buoi dai Paesi Tuoi’. The most striking feature of luliano’s paper on Italian proxy marriages is the subtle example it presents of how the diaspora, even in an avowedly assimilationist place like Australia, can produce communities which are more, in this case, ‘Italian’ than the home country, with Church and state policies

15

conspiring to ensure an apparently higher rate of provincial and hometown endogamy than occurs in Italy. The anthropological literature usually uses the Spanish word compadrazgo to refer to the institution of co-parenthood or godparentage (see for example M. Davila, ‘Compadrazgo’; and P. Schneider, J. Schneider & E. Hansen, ‘Modernization and Development’). The Italian word is comparatico (compare and comare or padrino and madrina, the Veneto equivalent is santolo/santola).

17

18

The San Fior pattern of compadrazgo appears to contrast with the stereotype of the traditional southern Italian pattern where one influential patron tends to be everyone's godfather. For an interesting comparison between southern and northern ItaloAustralian godparenting traditions, see S. Stefanoni, Family and Settlement. L. Baldassar, ‘Western Australia’.

J. Gentilli, Italian Roots in Australian Soil. Food

is central to the expression

of identity; see G. K. Neville,

Kinship and Pilgrimage,

and M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience. Usually the food eaten at Laguna is very Veneto—cornflour polenta and radicchio. The Valtellinese eat buckwheat polenta, which has a totally different consistency and colour to the Veneto type.

20 Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 65. 21

22 23

See L. Baldassar, Marriage’. Bocce is a form

‘Italo-Australian

of bowls,

like lawn

Youth

in Perth’,

bowls,

but

and

it is played

L. Baldassar, on a hard

‘Marias

surface and

and the

balls are not weighted. The clubs that participate in the bocce tournaments include the Azzurri Bocce Club (affiliated with the Italian Club Inc. with a mixed regional membership), the Fremantle Italian

Club

(mainly

Sicilian

and

Abruzzi

members),

the

Toscani

Club,

the

Midland

Unity Club and the Spearwood Club (the last two comprised mainly migrants from the former Yugoslavia). R. Mandel, ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’.

The Rhetoric of Return ! For a discussion of symbolic ethnicity, see H. Gans, ‘Symbolic Ethnicity’. 2S. Silverman also gauged the increase in affluence in Montecastello by noting that on

374

Notes to pages 216 to 296

her return visit there, in 1973, half the comune had bathrooms whereas only a tenth had them in 1961; see Three Bells of Civilization, p. 214. For a discussion of Italian proxy marriages in Australia, see S. Iuliano, ‘Donne e Buoi dai Paesi Tuoi’; and S. Bella-Wardrop, By Proxy. + See L. Baldassar & C. Baldock, ‘Linking Migration and Family Studies’. The use of electronic mail has revolutionised the way migrants keep in touch with relatives overseas allowing a much more regular and intimate sharing of life experience; see Baldassar & Baldock, ‘Linking Migration and Family Studies’, and L. Baldassar, C. Baldock & C. Lange, ‘Immigrants as Long-distance Carers’. Ettore is a product wholesaler and when he visits Italy he orders the latest products to be sent to his warehouse in Perth. The dwellings of extended households are now generally renovated so that children live on a separate floor or in a semi-detached apartment or duplex. C. Arensberg & S. Kimball, Family and Community in Ireland, p. 58. Italian tenancy laws at the time of research stipulated that rental leases could not be shorter than four years, Legge 27 luglio 1978, n. 392. Disciplina delle Locazioni di Immobili Urbani. L. Baldassar, ‘Italo-Australian Youth in Perth’.

Second Generation Visitors N

' R. Orsi, The Madonna of 115th Street, p. 80.

I have included the experiences of two third generation youths, grandchildren of the

emigrants.

> M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience, p. 82. See R. Pesman, ‘Italian Women and Mass Migration’, and R. Pesman, ‘Voices of Their Own’, for a discussion of the ways Italian women have been represented. R. Bell, Fate, Honor, Family and Village, p. 93, describes the same practice in reverse; where parents in Italy sent sons to America to cure them of ill-chosen love. Daughters, however, were sent to another Italian town to be domestics under the watchful eye of

an aunt.

‘Dinky-di’ is an Australian colloquialism meaning authentic, usually used to refer to an authentic Australian, and ‘ding’ is West Australian slang for Italian. Under the Australian policy of multiculturalism, cultural pluralism has been promoted to the exclusion of structural pluralism. This philosophy has led many commentators to criticise multiculturalism as simply another strategy for achieving the better ‘integration’, that is, assimilation, of ethnic groups in a homogeneous society. For a discussion of this culturalist definition of multiculturalism in Australia, see S. Castles, M. Kalantzis, B. Cope and M. Morrissey, Mistaken Identity. For a discussion of the ‘fragment’ thesis, see L. Hartz, The Founding of New Societies. For a description of the Italian youth scene in Perth, see L. Baldassar, ‘Italo-Australian

Youth in Perth’, and ‘Marias and Marriage’. Knowledge of the Italian language does not appear to be an essential component and symbol of new Italo-Australian identities. My research on second generation ItalianAustralians (see Baldassar, ‘Italo-Australian Youth in Perth’) supports G. L. Gold's claim that ‘language is more important to the mother country as a criterion of inclusion or exclusion than it is to the immigrant minority’; see Minorities and Mother Country Imagery, p. 8. See alsoJ. Kinder, ‘Italian in Australia 1940-1990".

Rivalry and Repatriation ' R. Huber, From Pasta to Pavlova, p. 9.

2 See E. Franzina, La Grande Emigrazione.

> Since then, Italy has agreed to meet half the cost of the pension.

Notes to pages 297 to 328

375

For a discussion of the concept of relative deprivation, see R. Merton, Social Theory and uw

Social Structure. For a

discussion of the woman’

role in extended households in Italy, see Z. Baranski &

S. Vinall (eds), Woman and Italy; and E. Muir & G. Ruggiero (eds), Sex & Gender in

Historical Perspective. Regarding the more general issue of gender roles and familism, see, for example, S. G. Berkowitz, ‘Familism, Kinship and Sex Roles in Southern On

Australia,

see A. Burns,

G.

Bottomley

&

P Jools

(eds),

The Family

Italy’.

in the Modern

World. See S. Silverman,

Three Bells of Civilization.

See G. R. Saunders,

‘Social Change

and Psychocultural

Continuity in Alpine

Italian

Family Life’, for a comparison of psychological and emotional links between mother and child and the relationship between father and child. 8

Huber, From Pasta to Pavlova, p. 9.

°

See M. di Leonardo, ‘The Female World of Cards and Holidays’, and L. Lamphere, ‘The

Domestic Sphere of Women’. 11

12 13

R. Bosworth & M. Bosworth, Fremantle’s Italy, pp. 162-3. Emilio Franzina told me this joke

in Italian when I visited him at his home in Vincenza,

in November 2000. | have translated it in an abridged form here. See E. G. Schwimmer, ‘Symbolic Competition’.

This analysis is consistent with Gramsci’ theorisation of hegemony and ideological resistance which suggests that where symbolic contention is evident it is also the case that one side tends to be hegemonic.

See A. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community.

The Home

Town Revisited

See L. Baldassar, ‘Home and Away’.

R. Holton, Globalization and the Nation-State.

Isaiah 49:22, Good News Bible. The Bible in Today's English Version, Catholic Study

Edition. Thomas Nelson Publishers, New York 1979

See G. Neville, Kinship and Pilgrimage, and Z. Bauman, ‘From Pilgrim to Tourist’. See L. Baldassar, ‘The Return Visit as Pilgrimage’, C. Delaney, ‘The Hajj’; R. Mandel, ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’; and G. Neville, Kinship and Pilgrimage. Arjun Appadurai defines the term ‘ethnoscape’ as the ‘landscape of persons who make up the shifting world in which we live’; see ‘Global Ethnoscapes’, p. 192. See H. Bhabha, ‘Location, Intervention,

See A. Cohen, ‘Belonging’.

Incommensurability’.

See W. Douglass, Emigration in a South Italian Town. See C. Arensberg & S. Kimball, Family and Community

in Ireland.

C. Price, Southern Europeans in Australia.

See M. di Leonardo, The Varieties of Ethnic Experience.

R. Mandel, ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’.

Ibid., p. 159.

L use ‘knowledge’ here in the Schutzian sense of an individual's ‘stock of knowledge at

hand’, which constitutes the unique pattern or scheme by which we assimilate new events and experiences in an orderly, systematic way; see A. Schutz, The Phenomenology of the Social World, pp. 80-4; see also R. Gorman, ‘Alfred Schutz’. See R. Merton, Social Theory and Social Structure.

L. Thompson describes the symbolic competition as a requirement. The townspeople expect to be shown proof of the emigrants’ successful sistemazione abroad; see Australia Through Italian Eyes, p. 53. Mandel makes a similar point about Turkish townspeople’ expectations of receiving expensive gifts from their visiting kin who have migrated to Germany; see ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’, p. 157. See C. Stack, ‘Black Return Migration’.

376 19 20 21

22 23 24 25

26

27

28 29 30 31

32 33 34 35

36 37 38 39

40 4 42 3 44 45 46 47

Notes to pages 330 to 338 L. Baldassar, ‘The Return Visit as Pilgrimage’. L. Baldassar, ‘Gender, Ethnicity and Transnational Citizenship’, p. 28. U. Hannerz, Cultural Complexity, pp. 133, 199; see also E. Vasta, ‘Multiculturalism and Ethnic Identity’, p. 220.

G. Bottomley, Post-Multiculturalism?’, p. 2. G. Bottomley, From Another Place, p. 4. J. Fabian, in Time and the Other, calls this type of distancing the ‘denial of coevalness’. A. Schutz & T. Luckmann, The Structures of the Life-World, p. 65. See, for example, the Pew Research Centre report, ‘Tracking Online Life: How Women Use the Internet to Cultivate Relationships with Family and Friends’, accessed May 2000 at http://pewinternet.org/reports/toc.asp?Report=11. See also the accounts of social uses of new modes of communication in the contributions to C. Kramarae (ed.), Technology and Women’s Voices. See, for example, E. Balibar & 1. Wallerstein, Race, Nation, Class; M. Featherstone (ed.), Global Culture, R. Cohen, The New Helots; J. Friedman, ‘Culture, Identity, and World Process’, and ‘Narcissism, Roots and Postmodernity’; A. King (ed.), Culture, Globalisation and the World System; S. Lash & J. Friedman (eds), Modernity and Identity; and Hannerz, Cultural Complexity. D. Holmes, Cultural Disenchantments, p. 80.

Friedman, ‘Culture, Identity and World Process’, p. 65.

Ibid., p. 66.

Bottomley, ‘Post-Multiculturalism?’. Hannerz, Cultural Complexity. K. Verdery, ‘Ethnicity, Nationalism, and State-Making’, p. 42. J. Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 53. See K. Conzen, D. Gerber, E. Morawska, G. Pozzetta & R. Vecoli, ‘The Invention of Ethnicity’; M. Banks, Ethnicity; R. Jenkins, Rethinking Ethnicity. See W. Sollors, The Invention of Ethnicity. Hannerz, Cultural Complexity, p. 218.

Ibid., p. 39.

See A. Cohen, The Symbolic Construction of Community; and F Barth (ed.), Ethnic Groups and Boundaries. See J. Martin, The Migrant Presence. N. Papastergiadis, ‘Culture, Self and Plurality’. Bottomley, ‘Post-Multiculturalism?’. Agnew, ‘Place and Politics in Post-War Italy’, p. 69. Hannerz, Cultural Complexity, p. 39. A. Gupta & J. Ferguson, ‘Beyond “Culture”, p. 17. Mandel, ‘Shifting Centres and Emergent Identities’. E. Said, ‘Zionism from the Standpoint of its Victims’, p. 18. See also P. Berger, B. Berger &H. Kellner, The Homeless Mind. Z. Bauman,

‘From Pilgrim to Tourist’, p. 20.

A. Appadurai, ‘Global Ethnoscapes’, p. 192. Gupta & Ferguson, ‘Beyond “Culture”, p. 11.

Ibid., p. 19.

1. Ang, ‘On Not Speaking Chinese’, p. 5. N. Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, p. 4. C. Delaney, ‘The Hajj’, p. 513.

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Index

Agnew, J., 80, 97, 115, 336 America:

in Italy, 56,

104,

bella figura, 31, 105-6, 136, 141, 146, 156, 318,

225, 240; and dress, 106, 135, 145, 238,

327, 339, as land of opportunity, 32, 37,

160,

222,

274, 279-80, 283, 319; loss of face, 33, 35, 225

108, 155, 158, 162 americano,

as

returned

migrant,

44,

127,

155, 238, 265, 324 Andreoni,

second generation, 283-6

H., 85

Ang, I., 338

Benatti, E., 55-6

anthropological fieldwork, 3, 17, 30-1, 39; entry,

22,

37-8,

161, 231;

30,

29-37;

75-6;

interviews,

18,

methodology,

multi-sited,

9, 76;

35,

17, 29reflexivity,

Appadurai, A., 13 C. and Kimball, S., 41, 245

Australian immigration policies: assimilation, 5, 62-4,

85,

Beretta, R., 64

Bertelli, L., 24 black market, 170, 172 bocce, 34, 122, 195, 201, 203-4, 250

Ardener, S., 28

179,

family ideology,

Benetton, 95

Boaro family migration history, 162

20-3, 26-30, 34, 38-40, 74, 333

Arensberg,

Benato family migration history, 162, 171-3; visit history, 232-6; visits by

187,

193,

179; Good

335;

and

Neighbour

Council, 194; hierarchy of preference,

178;

Bosworth, R. and Bosworth, M., 84, 314 Bottan family migration history, 170-1, 180, 187, 197; visit history, 229-32

Botteon 186,

family migration history, 193; visit history,

224-9;

168-9, visits by

second generation, 249-59, 286, 259-60

integration, 63, 194; multiculturalism, 24,

Bottomley, G., 6, 12, 13, 332-3

27, 271, 327, 335-6, and structural plural-

Burnley, I., 4

ism, 85; White Australia Policy, 75, 193-4 Callan, H., 28

Camerin family migration history, 173-5,

Barth, F, 13, 151 Bauman,

Z.,6

186;

history,

236-41;

visits

by

second generation, 272-5

Bell, R. M., 41, 107, 110, 122 bell-tower, 110-11, 113, 116-17, 203, 227, 287, 327, 334, 339

visit

120,

campanilismo, 219,

227,

110-17, 323-4,

328,

125,

147-8,

185,

336; attachment

Index to place,

329;

10,

13, 48, 70, 72, 78, 323-4,

in Australia,

65,

112,

148,

186,

188, 203, 205, 222, 323, boundaries, 117, 124-5, 210, 323-4; and class, 113, 114; petition/division, 115, 123, 135, 147-8, 210, 248, 307, 328, 336; in contemporary

326, 222, and 131, 320, Italy,

336; 247, com133, 324, 112,

115-16,

114-15;

391 329,

331,

333;

theories

of (including

loss of), 24, 28, 112, 333-6, see also San

Fior, as source of culture

hegemonic device, 114, 128, 185, 318,

de Lepervanche, M., 179 Delaney, Carol, 77 di Leonardo, M., 5, 24, 29, 38, 39, 79, 183, 185, 250 distance, 2, 4, 6, 8, 13, 72, 116-17, 122, 157, 185, 193, 200, 307, 332-4, 337-8

324; as kin ties, 219, 324; and Laguna,

Douglass, W,, 99, 117

200,

186; and courtship,

203,

222,

323;

and

migration,

as

70,

77, 107, 109, 112, 113, 150, 152, 187-8, 203, 222, 247, 258, 324, 325, 329; and religion, 92, 110, 119, 128-9,

emotion, 2-3, 29-30,

131-3,

116,

ethnicity: social construction of, 8-10, 29,

114-15,

70, 75, 77, 186, 260, 291, 327-30; theories of, 24-5, 79, 213, 332-6; see

127,

147; 128,

and

ritualised joking,

263;

in

San

Fior,

117-19, 121-8, 131, 133, 186, 222, 320, 323; sayings (detti), 77; and second generation,

198,

212,

248,

287;

sus-

pension of, 182; transformation of, 114, 147-8, 150, 203, 210; see also place

57, 110,

336

also italianita

‘ethnicity industry’, 27, 202, 250, 271, 332 ethnoscape, 13, 323

care: of the dead in Italy, 14, 67, 129-33,

factory work, 95-6, 97, 103

136, 152, 222; of the emigrants in Italy, 20, 156-7, 265; of kin from abroad (distant care), 14, 131, 224, 275, 281 Carniel family migration history, 161, 164,

fatalism, 155

188

Chapman, M., 11 civilta (civility), citizenship:

festa:

/ All Souls’

Day,

134-6,

147,

148;

dell’emigrante (Tarzo), 46-8, 52; Lady of the Rosary, 135-40, 147,

Our 152,

132,

All Saints’ 136;

259; Pan e Vin (feast of the epiphany),

120-1,

and

83, 133-4, 147; patron saint, 135, 149

131

belonging,

80;

dual

in

food: and return visits, 31, 47-8, 228, 234,

frazione, 86

South American,

Friedman, J., 334

160,

170,

174, 239

classe (age cohort), 135-6, 200, 238, 306 Cohen, A., 13, 86, 117, 148 community: boundaries, 32, 73, 75, 76,

148,

182, 210,

222,

247-8,

320; identity, 10, 43, 57, 109, 114, 125-

8, 137, 148, 182, 196, 203, 327; moral, 21, 129, 323, 330; theories of, 13, 76 2

consociate/consociation,

48,

116-17,

182,

225, 333-4, 245, 247

consociate

and

245, 247, 257,

popular 287-8,

knowledge, 290, 327,

54, 329-

31 Conti family migration history, 167 culture:

cultural

258; Veneto

region,

83,

106,

108,

134,

138, 157, 264

Friuli, 156

Furberia, 93-5, 319 Gabaccia, D., 77, 78

Gardin family, 38; migration history, 167; visits by second generation, 280-3 gender see women Gentilli, J., 67 German Gastarbeiter, 10, 327

condensation symbols, 117 Connor, W,

Day

Carnevale,

Australia, 14, 32; German, 11; of Italians in Australia, 4, 59, 64, 71, 78, 166, 167, 181, 180; of repatriates in Italy, 80, 296;

116-17,

117, 211

ethnic group boundaries, 7, 128, 289, 320,

transmission,

9, 24, 29,

globalisation/localism, 7-8, 75, 83, 334-5 godparentage (campari), 129, 198-200, 203, 294, 323 Gold, G., 85

gold rush / gold fields, 67, 70, 162, 166, 182

gossip, 35, 125, 284, 290, 305, 309

392

Index

governance see household

Mondo

Gramsci, A., 81, 84, 271

160, 201, 250, 255-6,

Grollo Tower,

Triveneto nel Mondo (UTRIM), 85, 207; see also Laguna Veneto Club

112

Gupta, A. and Ferguson, J., 7, 337

Gypsies, 91-3, 261, 304

103, 104, 119, 120, 152,

(ATM),

34,

48,

53-4,

84,

109,

284, 291; Unione

italianita: definition of, 23; first generation,

188,

194,

313,

329,

335; and

inter-

generational conflict, 23-4; second genHannerz,

eration,

U., 335, 337

home:

D., 80, 101-2

constituted

217-20,

through

kin ties, 79,

245, 257, 287, 289, 323, 324,

329-30, 339; constituted through visits, 9, 79,

25-8,

188,

212-13,

255,

258-9, 270-1, 274, 278, 282, 285, 287,

heimat, 110 Holmes,

3,

338-9;

and

host country

as part

of same social field, 11, 51; as ideological and geographical centre, 52, 222, 327;

332; symbols of ethnicity, 45, 78, 81, 105, 107, 202, 204, 247, 249,-50, 25960, 271-2, 274, 289, 320, 332, 329-

30; and wog pride, 27; see also ethnicity; ‘ethnicity industry’ Italians

84-5,

in

Australia:

183,

320,

identity,

327,

334;

8-9,

59,

prejudice

loss of ties to, 7, 79, 227, 251, 264, 270, 304-7; search for, 6~7, 338-9; as shift-

against, 26-7, 75, 78, 187-9, 268, 278,

ing

26-7,

centre,

242,

276,

280,

285,

287,

305, 327, 338; see also transnational migrant connections homecoming,

3, 47-8, 52, 57, 59

homelessness, 6, 337-8 homesickness,

3, 4,

8-10,

40,

328;

in Australia,

16; in Italy, 33, R., 292,

identity:

trans-

173,

153,

184,

157,

315-

311; see

237, 243-4, 268, 282, 294, 320

Italians in Italy: expectation that migrants 59-60,

44-5,

Italians

215,

327;

views

50, 217-18,

338;

259,

317-18,

328;

views about migrants, 32, 52, 23, 55, 58, 60, 105, 215-16, 313,

155, 155, 159-60, 184, 315, 317-20, 324, 327-

30; views about repatriates, 298, 302-6;

views about second generation visits, 39, Italy: consumer,

327,

71,

240, 256, 284-5, 289

80-1,

327;

postmodern,

60, 334, 337; theories of, 334-6; see also community;

standing, 27, 204; views about Australia,

273, 276, 284, 291, 299, 312, 319, 328, 332; views about migrant visits, 32,

311

6,

of,

292,

consumer/popular,

deterritorial,

perception

socio-economic

154, 214,

also symbolic competition Huber,

184;

about Australia, 69, 190, 215, 217, 222-3, 231, 235, 239, 244, 263, 269,

see also

171,

105,

social

169,

245,

national migration houses:

300;

63,

226-7,

63,

303, 308-11; governance (sotto), 29-31, 40, 42-3, 226, 292, 293, 303, 324; in rural Treviso, 41, 154, 157, 311, trans-

national,

294,

repatriate,

57,

302, 318 household: extended,

288,

in Australia;

place;

San Fior; second generation il problema del mezzogiorno, 82 informant pseudonyms, 18 informants see family or individual names

212,

221,

272,

290,

330,

north, 32, 55, 59, 71, 294; north-south tensions in Australia, 204, 212, 271, 285,

288,

332;

north-south

tensions

in

Italy, 75, 81-2, 85; political history, 123, real v. legal, 81, 84-5; social class, 114, 218,

304,

320;

south,

155,

157,

314;

Unification (Risorgimento), 81-3, 96

Jackson, M., 71

Inglis, K., 45, 47, 70 internment, 67,

of Italians

in Australia,

63-4,

194-5

Italian clubs

and

associations,

84-5,

163,

166,

169,

196-7,

301;

as compared

to return visits, 207-8, 216; Lombardi

57,

162,

201, 249

Associazione 52-4,

Kalamunda,

nel Mondo

58; Associazione

(ALM),

Trevisani

nel

Laguna

Veneto

Club,

1, 18, 84, 86,

165,

170, 173, 198, 200, 202-4, 283, 314, compared

to hometown,

26, 205-7; and

Index San

Fiorese,

second

34,

196-7,

generation,

200-5;

23-5,

147,

and

204-8,

393 331; as cultural process, 6, 71, 285, 333; as economic strategy, 325-6; as escape,

250, 255, 285; and Valtellinese, 202-3;

186-9,

see also campanilismo, women

72, 152, 159, 164, 167, 187, 190; and fractious family histories, 3, 43, 209,

language: and belonging, 205, 211, 213, 256, 269, 289-90, 304, 313, 319, 335; dialect, 1, 2, 34, 82, 87, 109, 115, 290, 319; proficiency in English, 295,

300,

307;

and

second

217,

225,

252,

284,

304;

18-19,

191,

194; as fortune seeking, 66,

324, 328; by government-assisted passage, 176, 180, 243, 298; and impact on

183,

inheritance,

43,

224,

240,

246,

329;

generation,

justification

of,

105,

108,

195,

325,

use

in inter-

327-9;

as

means

of survival,

154;

as

mistake, 177, 293, 327-8; narratives of, 181-3; pre- and post-war migrants

views, 18, 35; see also anthropology Leach, E., 28 Lega Lombarda / Lega Nord, 80, 82

compared,

Lombardy, 67, 82, 156, 178

reasons 236,

182,

for,

251,

186-94,

42,

293,

166, 295-6;

201; 188-9,

as sacrifice,

54, 59, 68-9,

Marocchini,

studies (theories of), 6-9, 12, 77, 325, 338;

Mayer, P., 9, 79

Mazzer

family

(Perth)

migration

history,

173-4; see also Camerin family Mazzer family (Queensland) migration history, 169, 173-4, 196

medallions: to the emigrant (Brazil-Magnacavallo), 56, 66; to the emigrant (Tarzo),

48-50 mementoes see place migrancy, 9-10,

migrant

(first generation):

4,

5,

157,

transnational

195, 231; migration;

women

migration

movements:

to

Australia,

14,

65-6, 70, 77, 96, 161-5, 178-80, 182; to Canada, 173, 175; to France, 164, 188, 324, to Germany, of gelatai (icecream workers), 47, 97, 154, 158-60, 224, 260; from Italy, 6, 55, 96-7, 158;

within Italy, 82, 204; from San Fior, 47,

13, 41, 322, 332, 338-9

attachment

to

home town, 58—9, 77, 86; as Australian pioneers, 64-5, 68, 182; cluster (chain) migration,

see also

152,

47,

Mandel, R., 208, 327 22

72,

197-8,

169-78,

34,

40,

75,

161,

165,

169, 176, 178, 181, 185, 192, 196, 325;

96, 124, 151-4, 157; from Sicily, 45, 65, 178; to South Africa, 168-9, 176; to South America, 56, 154, 159-60, 170, 174, 239; to Switzerland, 173 modernity,

107, 334

monument:

in

Cue,

Western

Australia

definition, 3, 6; images of, 55, 60, 155;

(miners), 60, 66-70; in Innisfail, Queens-

and marriage, 65, 198, 254-6, 301, 308; migration experiences, 13, 20, 60, 151,

cavallo,

land (cane-cutter), 60-6, 71; in Magna(to

the

emigrants),

54-8,

64,

post-war migrants’ views

160; to migration, 45-6, 70; public, 14,

about life in Italy, 242, 282, 310-11, 319~20, 329; pre-war migrants’ perceptions of Italy, 192-3, 201, 211, 214, 220, 232; relationship with Italy, 53, 69, 322; settlement, 4, 174, 178, 181, 183, 243,

45, 61, 112; in Tarzo, Veneto (I’Incontro), 46-7, 64, 71; in Tirano, Valtellina (Stele

182-3, 294-5;

308, 326; types of, 10, 46, visits home,

72,

171,

3, 5, 13, 36, 42-3,

208-48,

(in Italy), 54, Australia;

150,

292,

326,

153;

44, 47,

330; vote

58; see also Italians in

visits’

impact

on

identity;

women migration: to avoid military service, 153, 165, 175, 181, 188, 295, 301; conflicting discourses of, 17, 70, 72-3, 114, 150, 209, 247, 324-5, 290, 327, 329,

degli Emigranti),

58-60

myth of return, 4, 76, 334 nationalism, 2, 8, 45, 70; Italian, 7, 53, 78, 80-1, 86, 105, 112, 179, 204 Negri, M., 59

nicknames, 125-7 Northam holding camp, 177 nostalgia see homesickness nostos see homecoming Orsi, Robert, 78, 79, 107, 129, 149, 203

135,

137,

394

Index

paese, 86

168,

183;

community

in

Perth,

195-

Papastergiadis, N., 10, 338

200; frazioni, 87-8, 100, 121; history of,

Passerini, L., 17, 74

89-91,

patrilocal residence, 30

34; occupations, 98, 100-2; population,

peasant-worker, 41-2, 77, 88, 101-2,

114,

334 Perin family,

167,

171; migration

history,

167, 171

99-102,

118~23;

location,

16,

96-7; San Fior di Sopra (identity), 91-6, 102-6, 119-20, 128-9; sayings (detti), 83-4, 89-91;

as source

of culture, 209,

215, 217, 227, 285, 286, 287, 292, 318,

Pertierra, R., 115

320, 322-3, 330; town identity, 8-9, 86,

Pitt-Rivers, J., 86

88, 105, 109, 124, 128, 151-2, 185, 323, 327-8, 335; youth in, 135-48, 152

Piva family migration history, 167 place: attachment to, 50, 66, 334; memen-

172, 115,

toes (signs and symbols of place), 14-

San Fior economic and social transforma-

16, 50, 51, 72, 149, 182; relationship to

tion, 77-8, 86-7, 96, 99-100, 102-4, 107, 153, 157-8, 211, 215, 221, 237,

identity, 6-9, 45, 57, 66, 333, 336-8; see also campanilismo polenta, 82, 108, 138, 155, 250, 260 Preo family, 164, 195; migration history,

291, 297; benessere (affluence), 94, 104, 105, 111, 153, (and migration) 158, 160, 209, 239,

325; miracolo (economic

boom) 97, 153, (and migration) 53, 65,

164

152, 195, 326; miseria (poverty) 92, 94,

Price, C., 5, 24, 324

Prothero, R. M., 11

127-8,

proxy marriages, 175, 216, 296

tion)

153, 55,

155-6,

173,

172,

186,

190,

(and 193;

migrasee also

migration from San Fior; rag and bone collecting

rag and bone collecting/collector (straccivendolo), 89-90, 93-6, 98, 101, 104, 127, 151-2, 159, 170, 172, 261, 275

San Fiorese in New South Wales (Lismore),

Rees, A., 114

San

regionalism:

in Australia,

65, 85, 212;

in

Italy, 83, 134 life, 129,

remittances,

144,

12, 51, 53, 64, 156,

160,

174,

inquiry into high

rates of, 64; decision about, 56, 71, 184, 240, 266,

307,

42-3, 49, 251-2,

330; experience

263, 292-307,

of,

330;

and impact of return visit, 65, 198, 221,

223, 225, 233, 243, 265, 292, 297, 326; intention

to, 71,

mistake,

297; and

187, 211,

217,

second

pensions,

generation, 136,

96-106;

244,

261,

277,

Santolo

Santolo

180,

family

migration

history,

his-

189-92; visit history,

(Queensland),

history, 162-5,

migration

188—9; visit history, 216—

19, 324 Scalfaro, Oscar Luigi, 53

Schutz, A., 17

331; informal youth network, 25-6, 80, 278,

parents’

291,

331;

migration,

knowledge 250-1,

260,

about 267,

270, 272, 275, 281, 283; loss of ethnic identity, 24, 335; marriages, 24, 198, 204,

class,

(NSW),

family (Perth), 34; migration

tory, 161-2, 210-16

204,

182, 286; sce also visits

characteristics and

308,

195, 219

home, 257, 285, 322; definition, 3-4; identity, 24, 85, 202, 248, 256, 265, 270-1, 278, 282, 286, 288-9, 291, 329,

Said, E., 6 Fior:

family

162-5,

219,

repat-

296;

as, rite of passage

San

Santolo

37,

195, 216,

second generation: connection to ancestral

305-7; see also women rite of passage,

Queensland,

188-9,

243; as

riates’ views of life in Australia compared to Italy, 297, 299, 300, 303, 306, 308; of

in

170,

162

148

184 repatriation: Australian 217,

Fiorese

169,

324; visits to Perth,

religion: popular and official, 83, 137; and town

162, 188

of, 76, 84,

99-100,

102,

87-8, 128,

254-5,

standing

Italy, 251,

in

282,

285;

Australia,

252,

261,

socio-economic 27;

views

264, 273,

about

266-8,

Index 279-80,

282,

284;

see also

Laguna

Veneto Club second generation visits home,

26, 36, 40,

395

transnational

migrant

connections,

8-9,

14, 15, 45, 53, 60, 72, 85, 149, 156-7, 171, 257, 322-3, 333-4, 329, 334;

44-5, 52-4, 60-1, 65, 72, 75, 192, 236,

communications,

241,

for visiting, 252, 258, 267, 272, 276, 281,

313, 333; and obligation to remain in contact, 190, 215, 224, 257, 283, 323,

284,

parents,

326; through the ‘idea of place’, 76, 126,

249, 253-4, 285, 288 self-employment, 94, 98, 154, 184, 225, 233, 296, 300, 326, 327 sharecropping (mezzadria), 100, 129, 153, 165, 173, 175, 190 silk-worm farming, 100, 157, 311 Silverman, S., 86, 99, 113, 116

186, 248, 321, 324, 337-8; through visits, 21, 44, 79, 225, 227-8, 322, 328, 333-4; see also migration

247,

249-91,

287,

sistemazione:

289;

323,

sent

in host

331-2;

back

country,

reasons

by

65,

66,

70,

71, 173, 174, 177, 182, 196, 200, 326, 332; and marriage, 40, 106-7, 129, 154, 183, 197, 296, 325; and migration, 13, 41-2, 47, 48, 52, 56, 59, 71-2, 152-4, 160-1, 174, 179, 181-3, 187, 258;

transformation in, 66, 78, 105-6,

150,

153-5,

325,

158,

160,

183-4,

210,

transnational

58,

migration,

216,

8-13,

228,

150,

283,

323,

332, 337 travel, 9, 42, 75, 149, 169, 194, 214, 223, 225-6, 230, 234, 338-9, 241, 246-7, 256, 262, 266, 273, 284-5, 287, 301, 315-6, 323, 331 Valtellina, 23, 58-9, 66-8, 75, 166, 171, 178, 181, 198-203, 211-12; migration to

Australia,

66-7,

178;

Valtellina—

Veneto marriages, 203, 243, 309

Vasta, E., 3, 4, 78

327-8, 336 soccer (football), 81, 115-16 sotto see household

Veneto region: location, 15, 16; surnames, 18; provinces, 83-4; see also food; San

space, 7, 333

Venice, 80, 83, 202, 332 Villorba, 111 visits and: accommodation, 33, 35-6, 213, 220, 223-6, 228-31, 235-6, 240, 245-7, 256-8, 276, 278, 281, 286, 290, 329; changes in visit patterns, 266, 274-5, 291;

Fior

spaesato (lost), 2, 241, 339 sponsorship,

161,

166,

167,

168,

170,

171, 173, 175, 179-81, 187, 220

symbolic competition between migrant and non-migrant,

195, 217, 226, 235-8, 292,

317-20, 328-31; bathroom, 65, 158, 168, 176, 215, 226, 237, 252-3, 329; car, 153, 168, 221, 225, 237, 262, 266, 270, 329,

331; children,

183-4; dress, 218, 220,

225, 238, 240, 263, 274, 283-4, 290, 304, 317-19, 329-30; house, 174, 175-6, 184;

competing

discourses,

44-5,

72-3,

160,

210, 290, 318, 327; desire to go back regularly, 192, 218, 224, 226, 233, 244, 252, 259; disillusionment/disappoint-

ment, 61, 264-5, 269, 276, 279, 283, 289,

241, 263, 273, 279, 283-4, 292, 305-11,

290, 292, 327, 331; failure to, 186, 190-1, 227, 231, 259, 280; importance of first visit, 220-1, 225, 230, 235, 256, 292;

314, 319, 320; see also migration, and frac-

incorporation, 23, 39-40, 47, 73, 210, 333;

tious family histories; visits and, tensions/

licence to leave, 20-1, 41; marriage, 164, 170, 171, 188, 198, 214, 216, 218, 325-6; migration studies, 4-5, 325; reciprocal relations, 8, 40, 43, 72, 128, 148, 155, 323, 324, 328, 334; refusal to, 210, 248, 270, 274-5, 307-9, 328; tensions/rivalry between kin, 43, 177, 195, 213, 220, 221, 228, 235, 242, 245, 248, 270, 276, 278, 281, 290, 292, 313, 328-9, 335

language, 319; notions of autonomy, 238,

rivalry between kin Thompson,

L., 50, 78,

136,

148,

152

timber mill, 166-7, 180-1, 197, 293, 298

Tonos family migration history, 169, 176visits

by

second generation, 275-80 tradition: contemporary construction

7; visit

history,

208,

243-5;

of,

102-3, 107, 127, 250, 336; loss of, 112; and migration,

117; revival,

108, 250

visits as: ‘postal run’, 36-7; act of resistance, 336; anticipated journey, 328; cultural

Index

JO renewal, 213, 227, 237, 255, 282; family

repatriation;

reunion, 230, 242-3, 257, 262, 276, 286,

home; transnational tions; women

292,

326;

investment

for children,

236,

257-8, 283, 285, 287; moral obligation, 8, 30, 40, 47, 60, 113, 184, 228, 230, 323,

women:

second

generation

migrant

and citizenship,

visits

connec-

180; and gender

326, 329; pilgrimage, 2-3, 6, 20, 149, 214, 247, 258, 285, 323, 330, 332, 338-9;

differences in inheritance, 41; and

gen-

der roles in Italy, 30-2,

273,

prodigal

284-5, 306, 308-11, 313-16, 319; and

307,

return,

186,

189,

proof of successful

323,

324,

326;

migration,

107,

184,

191,

195,

193, 214,

220,

225-6,

231, 233, 239, 252, 265, 288, 326, 328; reconciliation, 213, 256; rite of passage,

kin work, 206,

183; and

307-8;

35,

Laguna,

migration

267, 201,

204,

experiences,

178-9, 301, 302, 308; migration narra-

39;

tives, 181-3; reasons for migration, 73, 168, 169, 173, 174, 175, 178, 179-80, 183, 218, 308; refusal to repatriate, 237, 263, 292, 305, 307; refusal to visit home, 270, 274-5, 307-9, repatriation experiences, 49, 302-4; and role of

emigrants in European countries, 47, 50;

‘good Italian girl’, 23, 29, 253, 291; and

emigrants

role of ‘good Italian wife’, 255, 310-11, 313; settlement experiences, 174, 182-

2-3, 20, 44, 292, 323, 331; stage in the migration

process,

5-11,

149, 322, 325,

transformation, 192, 193, 210-14, 255-6,

258, 278, 282, 287-8, 291, 323, 331 visits by: author,

234,

in

239;

1-3, North

16,

20,

30-1,

America,

emigrants

from

47,

164,

Sicily, 312;

migrants travelling with other migrants, 208;

non-migrant

Italians

to Australia,

54, 240-1, 244, 270, 276, 312-17, 328;

pre- and post-war migrants compared, 191, 193, 198, 322

327, 330-1,

visits see food; associations,

335-7; of non-migrants

home;

Zamin

family (Franco,

ployment 171,

visits’ impact on identity: of migrants in Australia, 17, 79-80, 210, 219, 236, 247-8, 256, 266, 278, 287, 290-1, 325,

taly, 7, 324, 327, 335

3; visits home, 313-14

in

9,

181,

191;

Maria et al.): em-

of migrants in timber mill, 197; migration history,

and

sponsorship,

171,

165180-3,

187, 195; visit history, 219-24; visits by second generation, 34, 260-7 Zamin family (Guido, Corina et al.) migration history, 174-6; visit history, 241-2;

Italian clubs and

migrant (first

generation);

visits by second generation, 267-72 Zanardi

family

migration history,

162,

164

As soon as I touch down at the airport in Venice

and hear the church bells chiming in the distance I start to cry, I'm back home .. . but then, even as I get down off the plane I'm already missing my other home. Visits Home is about a remarkable hundred years of visits ‘home’ by a community of Italian-Australians from the village of San Fior in north-eastern Italy. The poignant details of their experiences have parallels im those of all settlers in new lands—the painful farewells, the heartache of homesickness, the joyous reunions and the ambivalence of belonging. Baldassar is herself a child of immigrant parents, and brings her own personal experiences to this engaging study. She explores the sense of homelessness commonly felt by both immigrants and their children, and looks with care and insight at the relationships between immigrants and their homelands and between place and identity.

She concludes that visits home are central to the identity of many immigrants and also to that of their children. When ‘home’ is a shifting centre, many people find solace in the temporary sense of home experienced during return visits.

Visits Home is rich in vivid and intimate stories. In this beautifully

written book, Loretta Baldassar makes a new and vital contribution to

our understanding of the immigrant experience.

Loretta Baldassar is Associate Professor in the Department of Anthropology at the University of Western Australia.

ISBN

O522849bS~-2

MEMOIRS CULTURAL STUDIES / ANTHROPOLOGY Cover designed by Elizabeth Dias Aa

NATIMAIP

TATU

DEITY

DDECC

9

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