THE RACIST
( Annamaria Trevale ITA – Il razzista )

The weather was foully chilling and one could never expect anything good of such a grey sky: you could bet it would start snowing soon, maybe even before the night would come.

And Gianni really looked like a fool standing at the side of the road, waiting for someone to give him a lift to go back to the city centre and hoping to find out a tolerable accommodation for the night… Since his partner turned him out he could never get anything right.

Since ages he had not had a place where to stay. He had no family any longer – neither was his parents’ family alive any longer - and even relatives, though not very close, were not so interested in being concerned with his existence – much better to keep out of his way, as he was a drug addict come out of the drug racket, but never completely back  into the respectable society…

Ah! the respectable society! So much chattering, advice! Promises when staying in the rehabilitation centre but afterwards.., once out of there, everyone had run away. 

No one were willing to employ a former drug addict, even if officially “rehabilitated”, everyone was first in the employers’ preferences.

The factory where he had worked in the past was filled up of non-EU immigrants, for instance, and his former employer had plainly told him that he would rather had someone from Senegal or Maghribi, willing to behave properly not to lose the residence permit, than a well-known troublemaker like him.

Oh… sure! That is all we needed, right now, such dirty negroes and North Africans such pains in ass.

Not only did they secure all the best jobs, but also they were as clever as at getting the best shelters for homeless, always in front line where priests handed out hot meals to be scrounged… a real ruin!

But this was not enough! The best was still to come from Sara, the woman with whom he had taken up since they had come out of the rehabilitation centre, her too.. a former drug addict, who could find a decorous job in a cleaning service company.

She had turned him out of her place as she was angry to him - as she thought that he had taken advantage of her  - and then she had taken up with a new partner at work, a dirty Albanian…

Here it is! The first snowflakes! The cars passing by had already turned the headlights on in the sinking sun, but no one seemed to be willing to stop. In a short while the drivers could not even distinguish him, and in any case they were even fewer and fewer.

Gianni started shivering inside his old tattered coat, he stood up and tried to walk for a few steps, even if he could not feel his feet anymore. Who knows? Maybe was his destiny to die of exposure? Oh well, who cared? After all, what was the use of living such a fucking horrible life?

Nobody would cry for him.

A high-powered car which was coming over him from behind started slowing down and sweetly braked close to him. Staggering, Gianni turned back, hesitating as he did not know whether or not he had to be hopeful, but a sudden baritone voice asked: “hey friend do you need help? It is too frozen to stand here hitch-hiking.. come on! Get into my car!”

Not sooner had Gianni comfortably sat in that luxurious Sedan car, than he could well see the driver. A man aged of about fifty, dressed with style, with a dark skin … a negro in one word!

“Where are you going?”

“I am going nowhere, to the city centre will be fine. I simply must find out a place to spend the night in”

“Don’t you have a place?”

“No I’ve got no place to stay anymore, that’s life. It happens”.

The man, surprised by the unkind tone of Gianni, had a look at him, but replied with calm. “I know. I can understand. I came to Italy when I was a young man, I had no money and I had to starve to study…”

“But it seems you had luck, I guess…” observed Gianni pointing out the interior of the car with a gesture.

The man nodded:

“I was lucky. In partnership with some friends we decided to import some items from our birth Country to be sold here in Italy, you know, when the “ethnic” fashion – as you call it here - was at the real beginning and therefore we found the right way… now we are having a pretty good turnover and we are all very satisfied about our lives. I got married, I have two sons, I got my brother and my sister come. They live here and work with us.. and I can even help people, when it happens”

Gianni mentally cursed. Hardly did he need to meet the “lucky negro”, too!

“Would you like something to eat?”

“No” he was really hungry, but for sure he’d never say to that guy.

“Do you have at least a place for tonight?”

“That’s none of your fucking business!”

“Ok. Where do you want me to drop you in? I am going to the station”

“That’s ok for me too”

The man drove on for some hundreds metres and then pulled over the right side of the road and abruptly turned his head towards Gianni’s.

“Listen, mate, I can easily understand that you’ve got your own problems, but if you want a hot meal with a decent place to stay tonight, and maybe for some of the next ones, I can arrange for it, otherwise… good bye and take care. The Station is down there”.

Gianni reflected just for a few seconds upon the situation: it was late, he was cold and hungry and had no idea on how to find out an accommodation for the next hours. Maybe, he did not really need to be so fussy.

“Ok… thank you”

Quietly, the man started the engine up and the car drove back towards the traffic flow.

Gianni kicked himself thinking of the woman who was his ex-fiancé teasing him if she could see him in that moment, in such a bad state as to accept the charity of a negro, but fortunately she was somewhere - who knows where – with her Albanian and he would not certainly meet her anymore, so.. why should he be worried about it right in that moment?