| Pierfranco Bruni says 'The adventure arbereshe, the Mediterranean lived' |  |  |  |
| Tuesday, June 10, 2008 | |
| Gérard PICARD is a journey that started many years ago. Time has left its mark that touch the soul and affect reality. In Adventure arbereshe, the Mediterranean lived (ed. Irala, Taranto, inf. micolcultura@alice.it ) Pierfranco Bruni collection of reflections on the Italian-Albanian culture, convinced that in the history of the peoples the Mediterranean is increasingly axis, not just geographically but existential. A Mediterranean which means, among other things, to penetrate the consciousness of a people and an ethnic group that has its roots in the Adriatic, Mediterranean and Adriatic because''have become a constant encounter.'' Brown works in the memories of home and the challenges of today: it has arbereshe roots, the scholar. It follows from the paternal grandmother of Albanian Spezzano (Cs), was born in St. Lorenzo del Vallo (Cs), ex-arbereshe country, lives in Carosino (Ta), ex-arbereshe country. His fate is sealed. That of a scholar, head of the project on ethno-linguistic minorities MiBAC, which is a 'arbereshe in fact'. Enjoy this world, as they explore, write about emotions and folklore, literature and language. A journey deep, ranging from Byzantine chants to valljie, from cultural heritage and landscape at the heart of cultures, reflected on many insights of Augustine and Jordan Pio Rasulo but then chooses its own approach that has proven itself in the journal 'Jeta Arbereshe '. ''Why a language and culture by protecting not only 'academic' but penetrating lived.'' This book is therefore a mosaic, where''a sense of roots, that literature has as premise, is a tangible link between past and present.'' Is to read the gap with the past through a reappropriation, in literary terms, patterns of civilization. One of the major components of this system is the anthropological country, which is characterized by 'gjitonia', or with the neighborhood. The community is also belonging and identity. arbereshe culture, notes Brown, ''Insists on two parameters that are fundamental to remember and return. Like all cultures that have lived lacerations and diasporas, the effects can be heard in the underscore of a profound melancholy.'' It tells of Sybaris and Magna Graecia, first of all. A world that never died and continues to live in arbereshe models,''where the hills are interlaced with Albanian women Sibarite''because''the feeling of the roots is a code that is never forgotten.'' Bruni is certainly a man of letters, but in this paper the reader also discovers the reflection of an anthropologist attentive to the richness of linguistic diversity. And arbereshe''is not a language in extinction. There is the silence and is not intended to silence. Indeed, this culture, in a land plot and history, is a culture of wealth, which must be reviewed and proposed as a real asset that combines legacy and future.'' In the Mediterranean countries telling their frontier heritage, without magical rites, rather fruitful intersection of East and West. And 'who can tell a literature experience of sea and land segments and carvings of Byzantine civilization arbereshe imbued with religious roots. As to the Greeks, in green Irpinia, arbereshe country,''where the houses are enclosed in one hand and the smell of Mediterranean Albania. Corridors between the lanes. People know to look in the eye and old weaknesses. A dance with words. A tinkling sounds.'' They are stone houses, a succession of corners which cut roads. There you are walking in step, little by little. Melancholy in the voices, while the patron is Our Lady of Caroseno, who came to the Greeks with the Albanians in flight:''It seems like a dream but reality is this country. Scanderbeg is in the consciousness of this world without fear farmer who has a hidden identity. There are no statues or busts stresses Bruni-The Albanian hero 'in their history. E 'in telling their origins and destiny. Greeks are a people in flight. It is a culture that resists.'' Profound humanity in the history of a people. A country childhood and fables forgotten. There is a tradition that we remember only think of a time that no longer exists. There is a tradition that lives on this moving to the newspaper in a game of mirrors that you would like to cross by small and great nostalgia. There is a tradition that thrives on symbols and identity, and tries to project them beyond the darkness. The roots are the result of needs and feelings. But there is another dimension that stands strong to these pages: the Mediterranean minorities. Are minorities that are allocated from the sea and other territories, such as a skin on the other green land rich in diversity and history. Geographies of encounter. Plots not monolithic but a mosaic, a radial, a resource model because ethnicity is not folklore or a simple country fair. Instead, everyday life, choices, men and women: "In Italy, a hinge of the Mediterranean, the relationship between ethnicity and language is a go in the inside of those roots that are testament to a past that is never forgotten and a future that calls for Memory acts of awareness. " And Bruni is right to note: this is the Mediterranean ", which is not allowed to close, but emphasizes the experiences of contact with civilization across the border. The ritual and tradition are constants. The round dance, in Albanian culture and arbereshe, is told from the round dance Deledda ", as the tales and legends of the Mistral of Provence have a deep popular roots. Ethno-history step for mankind for thousands of wonderful influences that have expression and poetry, story and meat . living contact "between the heavy earth, and burning houses, and the sea that opens horizons and you trip. The Mediterranean is a key that invites you to go further. There are several Mediterranean, in a serious tradition, memory, identity and roots that can not freeze. Another important book of a profound scholar. How long have you know Peter? A life. He has written books very deep, that in my heart and I do every day together. His stories of our South is also mine, are our dead that hung around his neck and we seek without us calling them. Women are sung by Peter, those skirts we have loved and lost, there is the wind blowing on a beach in a winter sea. There is always a winter sea. " I can see him now, Piero, his pink scarf and more thoughtful pace. We smoke a Camel Light talking about books and projects, he plays with my daughter runs to meet him. We have both a pensive smile, yet we delude ourselves that someone needs us. Piero is one of my three friends. I could not think of the future without his writings. Agency radical. |
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