Beyond Good and Evil
THIS MORNING AT DAWN M. LEFT SCALABRINI HOUSE 634. It’s actually not a bad thing for him going into a new phase of his life, after the six months he spent in our semi autonomy project, but it is a melancholy moment for me, since M. has been one of the most sympathetic presences in the House.
Awaiting him is a short trip to Mali, his home country, to meet in person his 5-year-old son, with whom he has so far related only by video call. When M. set out for Europe, his wife had yet to give birth.
M. is young but a few years older than most of the other people who live in Scalabrini House 634. He appears a bit more mature and shrewd. He has an overwhelming laugh, a laugh reminiscent of an early Eddy Murphy. He accepts the joke but is also a very reserved person, and when he does not know that he is being watched and is intent on some domestic matter or simply sitting at the table at the end of a meal, you happen to catch a glimpse of melancholy in his gaze.
M. has a somewhat retro sense of humor reminiscent of the funny uncle when you were a child. He arrived in Rome after a stint in Milan and is fond of reiterating, whenever he gets the chance and especially to the more genuine Romans that “Milan is more beautiful than Rome! Rather than Rome, Turin is fine, even if it is small! Nothing works in Rome!” Then he stands looking satisfied at the gaze of his interlocutor and bursts into one of his thunderous laughs.
He has a practical sense of his own that he followed meticulously in preparing for his departure. A few days ago he reserved a full day to go to Naples. We asked him if he had anyone to visit, and he said he was going there to buy “things to take down to the village, because it’s cheaper in Naples.” We pointed out to him that the train ticket would negate any savings in shopping. He laughed thunderously, assuring us that he would not take out loans if he ran out of money.
Last night we improvised a House dinner to say goodbye to him, and patiently he lent himself, toasting with a glass of Pepsi and improvising a farewell speech that betrayed how little he wanted to: “Tomorrow finished my six months here in the House, with good people, good food, comfortable bed.” Yet another overwhelming laugh followed. Then a moment of silence. Then, bringing one hand to the level of his heart, he sighed a “thank you for everything!” that betrayed a thread of emotion.
He wanted to redo the Italian ID card before he left, he wanted the card-sized one instead of the old-fashioned one. I helped him make the appointment online. “Can’t you think about it when you come back from Mali? The one you have now will still be valid!”, I told him. “But I have to go around: that one is more beautiful, more modern!” And down came another Eddy Murphy laugh.
When he returns to Rome, he already has a bed waiting for him, rooming with a “brother,” in shared housing with four others, in decent building, convenient transportation. In the pizzeria in which he was working, they will be waiting for him: he made himself liked and loved.
However it goes, a new chapter begins for M. away from Scalabrini House. This morning I was the first to enter the office and found his copy of the keys on the desk. A sense of melancholy came over me. Then the overwhelming laughter rang in my head and a dumb smile was painted on my sleepy face. Good luck, M.
