Dead Giulio Giorello, the wife: “Three days are a nothing, my love”

Dear Julius,
in the house there were only books and notebooks with hand-written notes and texts to be published. No computer, no Internet, no television. No artificial world. Your was full of words to listeners attentive and involved in the conference or a chat between friends in the dinners.

Often you show you in to the words written in the many books and articles around topics that you have treated with a free spirit. You were deeply open even towards the one who was different from you in thought, but that he appreciated your critical sense, as Cardinal Martini.

From the coronavirus were healed but the recovery was hard and slow. Cos we decided to shorten the time of our wedding and give us a day of joy (here is the story of that day). Get married online that was very funny and at the same time formal with the cell interconnected to the protagonists of the event stuck in the library was full. We wanted to share the time we had to live together. It was the 12th of June. But three days are as nothing. 15 you’re gone.

I embrace you strong, my love

16 June 2020 (edit June 16 2020 | 21:46)

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Dead Giulio Giorello, his wife Roberta Pelachin: “our marriage, so cheerful”

Funny and surreal, as he was always, even in that marriage so wanted, and so accelerated, three days before his death. Brilliant and tender as to seem to come from a play. Roberta Pelachin Giorello the story is told with a thread of voice and a smile (here his memory). “He was tired, we had decided to give us a day of joy and pleasure.” It was so on Friday, June 12. “Julius in bed, not make it up, I and my three witnesses with him. The mobile phone, the my, stuck in the library, connected by a part with the official from the Municipality and from the other by Edoardo Boncinelli, his witness. It was all a laugh”. And the impression is that Roberta, teacher and writer, married for four days, and widow, by one, by six years the companion of life (but not home) of professor Giulio Giorello — who passed away the day before yesterday, to 75 years — especially this fail, the complicity and the irony of a man is extraordinarily intelligent. And sensitive.

Friday, June 12, Giorello, he had married his companion, Roberta Pelachin (with her in photo during a trip in Sicily)

Their paths had crossed in 2010. Roberta, as a teacher of History and Philosophy at the Scuole civiche di Milano, had to have his book Letter to Charles Darwin. Dear Charles I am writing to you in this dreamy summer evening… ( published by Edizioni Università di Trieste, italy). A couple of phone calls. “Professor, I would like to know what do you think, I have written of science in the form of a letter”. “I’ve read dr….”.

Other books, the poems of Roberta, one in particular dedicated to”the man of the door”, some knowledge in common. Then a dinner, a friendship that is as “light” until six years ago, when the feelings are made more profound. Every man to his house, though. He’s still smiling Roberta: “there was No room for me”. Books double parked everywhere, on all the furniture, even the refrigerator, notebooks, hand-written, sheets scattered in a large apartment close to the University — his State, where he had studied and taught — without a computer and without television, a mobile phone, “ancient”, only for calls, for anything “smart”. “I was her window on the internet, when he had to send an e-mail, he did with my e-mail box”. And it was not a pose, the attitude to snob of an intellectual outside the world. “For him to be there was there really be, without filters, without the social, without the crutch of artificial. For him, the connection was an exchange of glances. My: I would know when he was mulling something, when chasing a thought, would have made a joke”. But also that of the fans — that’s right, a host immense — that were enthusiastic and faithful to his lectures: “I Remember the conversation after an event, the simplicity of it with the public, garbo, not “if he would take it”, had a word for all, and generous always.”

Were years of conferences and travel, studies, and complicity. “We were in France, and in the cities of art, where good food, he said, joined with a certain aesthetic taste. Lately, also thanks to the friends “Laity trentini for civil rights”, we spent the summer in Pinzolo, where we did nice walks in the mountains (Giorello was due to receive the keys of the trentino town between July and August, ndr)”.

A walk, a glass of beer (irish, if possible), books and comics, the commitments to publishers, meetings, presentations, appointments. Yet, Giulio Giorello felt the weight of age, despite his young brain, the curiosity of childish for any proposal — smart — to be made, the open mind. Is Roberta to tell the story of these moments of sadness: “He felt like a useless old man, he told me. And then I arrabbiavo, contestavo, Giulio, don’t complain! But do you realize what you say? You know what it means to convey the pleasure of knowledge? You know how much good you have done and continue to do?”. Then came the Covid.

“It is what it is”, the voice of Roberta for the first time it cracks. A surge of anger: “of Course if, instead of making us wait six days before you store it… I Understand that in march the situation in the hospitals was tragic and Giulio had no cough. But arrived at a hospital with 62 saturation, the mind clouded from lack of oxygen… it was Not supposed to happen”.

Desperate conditions, but Giulio Giorello had made it. He had fought and won, also thanks to the support of Roberta. Two months of treatment. “He came home on the 27th of may, on his legs, he was fine, it seemed, wanted at all costs to leave behind the patient, the disease. And return”. Had in mind the marriage, ” he said. We had thought in the hospital, he wanted to do it. Soon. While the situation — a few days after the resignation, again sank: “it got Worse, but the doctor said it was normal, a tail of the infection, that the body was weakened. And this time, I was there beside him, I could follow him, be near him”. Yesterday morning Roberta would have to withdraw the analysis of professor Giorello. “To begin a new treatment”.

Was in bed for a week Giorello. Worse, fatigued. Roberta more and more distressed, tense. But still, “don’t worry, it’s normal, a little at a time will improve, stay quiet”. The professor was in bed and also last Friday, the day of her wedding. Smiling and cheerful, the exchange of rings, the promises, the laughter with the witnesses, the emotion. A serene day. And a thought conceived by time and a few times said: “Maybe a house together, even if each of us would have held his “spot”. Certainly not his”. A sigh. “It lasted just a little of our wedding, already. Very little”.

They had learned to live together despite differences, despite the disorder of genius he had found a loving balance. Roberta does not give in to the pain, even now: “I Want to think of everything that is beautiful and special about Julius knew to give. With him we could talk about everything, joking and reflecting, he loved to make jokes. It was ironic, never superficial. The sweet”.

16 June 2020 (edit June 16 2020 | 21:19)

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I tell the Corriere – Giovanni Moro’s questions about the murder of his father

Dear Aldo,
I can’t deny that I feel great emotion when someone, on TV or in the newspapers, talks about Aldo Moro. Many Italians remember his style of politics, his great civic sense, his education and his thickness as a free man. Commemorate it and it will always be a duty for this country. And with a sense of defeat we will continue to remember his assassination. A wound that is always open.
Massimo Aurioso

Dear Massimo,
In recent years, the person who in my opinion has best kept the memory of Aldo Moro his son Giovanni. I interviewed him and read his books. In summary, his thinking this. Almost all the kidnappings organized by terrorist groups before and after the Moro affair (Sossi, Cirillo, Dozier, D’Urso) were resolved in one of two ways which were instead avoided in the case of my father: either through negotiation, or by freeing the hostage. For the president of the DC, says his son, neither one thing nor the other was done: Moro was lost by a non-decision, in which inertia and inefficiency accumulate.
I can add that Francesco Cossiga came to admit more or less the same thing: at a certain point the state considered Moro lost. The Moro family has always had a severe judgment against the former head of state; but even more severe perhaps the one about Giulio Andreotti, accused of lying shamelessly, saying that one of the widows in via Fani had threatened to set himself on fire in the square if any negotiations had started without specifying his name; because that widow didn’t exist.
Giovanni Moro concludes: I can say that I have not yet understood well (beyond the spirit sessions and the hydraulic explanations) what exactly happened around the hideout in via Gradoli; not to be convinced at all that the terrorists have told us everything (if anything, and its opposite), and not to accept that they are the ones who decide that what is not known only concerns “irrelevant details”; to be curious to know what role in the kidnapping remained in the background such as the brigatist Senzani or the various fugitives abroad; of not being convinced that our information services of the time – for the convenience usually described as a kind of Mickey Mouse Club – were unable to carry out sufficient intelligence activities before, after and especially during the kidnapping. They are all still open questions.

OTHER LETTERS OF TODAY

History

Now we work on the needs of children and parents

Now that the lockdown has hit health goals, what is left of social goals? For the sake of the community, we closed ourselves in the house: the priority was to protect the sections of the population at risk and avoid the collapse of a health system that, fortunately for us, cures anyone who knocks on its door. With bitterness today we see that our children do not have the same protection. In the right battle for the health of the community, it is forgotten that collective well-being does not only pass from the absence of disease, but from the enjoyment of all fundamental rights including that of education. The school is a crucial hub for children’s cognitive, emotional and social development. The delay in the resumption of school activities will have a profound social impact, especially in the weaker sections, for which the distance teaching proposals are inadequate for economic, logistical and cultural reasons. Families are asked to make up for the lack of an organic project for the school, sacrificing on the one hand the educational needs of children and young people, on the other the work of parents, especially mothers, forced to choose between family and work. The Right to School campaign, which I am promoting together with some friends, like me workers and mothers, wants to give voice to millions of families, bringing the themes of school, work and children’s rights back to the center of the political agenda (www.dirittoallascuola. org).
Grace Guazzaloca

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I tell the Corriere – On the side of pensioners with the second home

Dear Aldo,
since March, and I don’t know until, I can’t go to my second home. In June, however, I will have to pay the first Imu installment and the Tari installment. Do you think that’s right?
Angelo Pagliai, Milan

According to the new provisions, we can go to visit relatives, but what difference is there between this move and going to a second home? And to overcome a regional border? I understand that these second houses are very annoying to current rulers.
Fiorella Fiore

We are finally in phase two, and we would like to post ourselves in our house by the sea with the grandparents, the children, even if it is a matter of leaving the region a few kilometers. Absurd to prevent it.
Mario Rossi, Arese

Dear readers,
Many of you have written to complain about the prolonged deprivation of liberties. Unfortunately, these are largely unavoidable measures; references to dictatorships are out of place. I have the impression that an experiment will begin tomorrow. The government did not give the free all; but allowing the Italians to visit the mother (and the now famous relatives and stable affections) in fact opened up to freedom of movement, waiting to see what will happen and to decide accordingly whether to close or extend the reopening.
There is one aspect that is not very convincing: the regional dimension of the measures. Italy is not a federal republic. We are not the United States and not even Germany. There are no Lombard or Lazio citizens; there are only Italian citizens. Why can a Roman go to see his mother in Gaeta, who is still in Lazio, and not in Baia Domizia, which is in the same gulf but already in Campania? And why can a Milanese go to Voghera but not to Tortona? Of course, moving indiscriminately dangerous. But some doubts come, for example, when thinking about second homes.
Let’s leave hypocrisy aside: for a second home I don’t mean the country estate or the villa on Lake Como, which moreover the wealthy Milanese will soon be able to reach without leaving the borders of the Region. I mean the pensioner who has worked all his life to buy a two-room apartment in Loano, and does not have the prospect of being able to go there shortly. This creates some problems, because it is not easy to tell a citizen who pays taxes (pensioners could not evade them even if they wanted to) that he cannot go to his house.

OTHER LETTERS OF TODAY

History

Thinking about who left without a greeting …

I live in Bergamo, particularly attacked by this tragedy that has swept many lives around me, dear friends and acquaintances taken away without being able to be close to them and express feelings of affection, oppressed by the sense of helplessness. I know that this condition is not only mine, but shared by many, not only of my city. That’s why I wrote April 2020.
To the song … / to the shrill delirium / to the arrogance / of the decomposed atom / and to the boundless ego / of anyone who can everything / to the incredulous silence / the light rain / sprinkles everything / the roof tiles / the tender leaves of spring / the astonished / mute streets, marked / by the high sounds / of the sirens / of cars / with a red cross./ Further silence / the night / with some light / lingering / to hope for the day / another day / a new day. / The light rain / luster of diaphanous flashes / everything / the dome in front / with the head / the golden effigy / of the Virgin Mary / to protect, / everything joins / to silence./ Maybe even the rain / has chosen with reason / to be light / tenuous / to too many lights / rowdy / to the shameless performing / to the greedy appetites / he wants to feel / really close / appearing / in an embrace / without noise / with those who keep silent / with his face moistened / thinking about whom / party / without even / a greeting.
Augusto Sciacca, www.augustosciacca.com

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We propose you to share experiences and reflections. Share a space in which to discuss without having to raise your voice to be heard. Continue to deepen the great issues of our time, and contaminate them with life. Telling how history and news affect our daily lives. Tell the courier.

TUESDAY – THE CURRICULUM

We publish the letter in which a young or already trained worker presents their skills: foreign languages, technological innovation, the taste of well-done work, art professions; speak Chinese, invent an app, have a technique, play or adjust the violin

Send your CV

WEDNESDAY – THE JOB OFFER

We give space to a company, of any field, that is struggling to find staff: interpreters, start-upper, welders, luthiers.

Send the offer

THURSDAY – THE INJUSTICE

We ask to report an injustice suffered: a case of medical malpractice, a problem in the bank; but also a restaurant where you ate badly, or a public office where you were treated worse. The right of reply will obviously be guaranteed

Report the case

FRIDAY -LOVE

We ask you to tell us a love story, or to send a letter to the person you love through the Courier. Not the mail of the heart; an open window on life.

Tell the story

SATURDAY – GOODBYE

We offer you to fix the memory of a person who has been fundamental to you. A daughter will be able to tell a father, a husband his wife, a pupil the teacher. So every Saturday we choose the profile of an Italian who left us. But we all read them, and everyone will enrich us.

Send the letter

SUNDAY – THE STORY

We host a reader’s story. A true or fantasy story.

Submit the story

THE PHOTO OF THE READER

Every day we choose an image that has made you angry or excited. The testimony of the degradation of our cities, or their beauty.

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Other than the Immuni app, the real problem is data management

Technology is useless. No, indeed, the only solution. In Italy we have gone from a chronic distrust to a blind trust in what a digital tool can allow. This is clearly seen with the government tracking app called immune, which we look as if it were the Moon while it could be the finger. From the importance that the debate has acquired – at least until the press conference of Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte on Sunday where she became the stone guest – it seems that the app itself can be the panacea for all the evils of Covid-19, the mat of Phase 2. The work of the Colao task force, in comparison, seems satellite. This sudden uncritical trust could prove to be risky: an app only an app, a source code that in this case will not even have the burden of aesthetics since it will have to work in the background (that is, without being open on the smartphone). It can be very useful only if placed inside a solid system.

The real questions and real difficulties are elsewhere: who will manage the swab negative health data? Where will they reside? Who will take care of the sensitive information of 60 million Italians in a few words to intertwine with the proximity data of the app? There is talk of Sogei, the platform of the Ministry of Economy. just remember what happened with the theft of INPS information on those who requested the 600 euro bonus to understand what the risk of publicly circulating the health of people, perhaps not even updated: with the nervousness that the two months of isolation caused the trial to the greaser could leave Manzoni’s pages and become reality. And it would not be the worst picture: the app (basically a traffic light) will signal in yellow who will come into contact with a red, that is, an infected person. At this point suspect cases will have to self-isolate themselves waiting for the swab. Are we gearing up to potentially make millions of them in a few weeks?

April 27, 2020 (change April 27, 2020 | 9:32 pm)

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Phase 2 and us: the coronavirus is active, we open because we no longer resist

On the eve of April 8, when the Wuhan lockdown – a much stiffer lockdown than ours – was lifted, China as a whole declared 62 new cases, most of them imported. The previous day 32. Yesterday, in Piedmont, my region that I have never felt so geographically distant, 394 new confirmed infections were found. In neighboring Lombardy 920.

To open. Or rather, we start to open, because the others do it too, because summer is approaching and below we hope that the heat will help us; because we hope to have learned a series of rules and to keep them for a long time, because the virus perhaps, who knows, it is said, has become less aggressive. In fact, we closed late to safeguard the production sector and we are now opening, botched, to safeguard the production sector. Even the epidemic picture bends before the hypothesis of a strangled economy.

The data improves, but the contagion in Italy is active, indeed lively, and to say that on 4 May not a free everyone does not at all make the idea of ​​what we are about to do, that is to go into a danger, with more individual awareness than beginning, with greater structural protection, of course, but in a situation that is probably not too dissimilar from that of mid-February. We are saying we will have to live with the virus, but we should say we are going to challenge the virus. Therefore, those who know they are vulnerable raise their guard even further from here on out.

Fortunately, out there, we will have the app to protect ourselves. Sooner or later it will come. Suppose it is already mid-July, over 60% of the Italian population has the app downloaded and working on the smartphone, bluetooth has proven to be effective on the necessary distance range and our sensitive data are processed anonymously by a public body. We are in the best scenario but, bad surprise, I receive an alert that warns me that I have been next to an infected person. What I’m supposed to do quarantine for fourteen days. But who will pay me those unexpected holidays? Will they be mutual days? And will the sovereign app determine it?

According to a study published on Science by Luca Ferretti and his group from Oxford, the contact tracing effective if the isolation of all alerted people occurs within three days of the onset of symptoms in the infected person. Three days which include, for that infected person, having recognized the symptoms, having consulted the family doctor, having been subjected to a tampon and having received the result; for all the others who have discovered themselves at risk, having put their lives on standby again. In Turin, my city never so far away, hundreds of suspicious case reports sent by family doctors were lost due to the overload of a mailbox. IS even today, they confirm me from different parts, to obtain a tampon in the presence of symptoms that are not at all obvious. Here are the conditions with which we enter the era of technological salvation. I wonder then: the chain that goes to me that I conscientiously install the app to the hospital laboratory has been strengthened in every link to ensure the efficiency of this new delicate mechanism? Will the same efficiency be guaranteed everywhere, even in November, when confusion with other seasonal diseases trigger an enormous amount of false alarms?

After ensuring the correct functioning of the gear, then, the main fact remains: everything related to the tracing of contacts, from the installation of the app to the strength of mind to isolate itself when everyone else is out and there are no symptoms of any kind, will be on a voluntary basis. The entire keeping of phase 2 on a voluntary basis.The one to which we are going to undergo the greatest experimentation ever made on our individual responsibility.

It would therefore be providential that an extraordinary example of responsibility came from above. Unfortunately, the concord and composure of the emergency start have long since ended. Among the regions, among politicians, even among experts, we are already tracing in the chronology who underestimated the threat more and more seriously, who did not understand or worse, who understood and did not speak. If as a child every quarrel resulted in he started first !, in contagion the opposite charge: he started after him !. The accusations are answered with other stronger accusations, or by claiming proudly: we did everything well. We are doing everything right. Indeed, we would do everything identical. Seriously? Meanwhile, over the trajectories of the pointed indexes, a great Italian amnesty unfolds: it was impossible to predict … even the other countries … Italy then found itself first … an unprecedented situation.

“Sorry” seems to be the hardest word, sang Elton John. Around here a very difficult word. But this time we need to be amazed. In order for the suffering of many not to turn into frustration and then indiscriminate anger, we need something new in our public debate: an assumption of individual and spontaneous responsibility by the main actors of this crisis, before we go back out there. Not of fault: of responsibility, where the responsibilities include underestimations, errors, disorganizations, delays, lightness. Public opinion would be much more comprehensive than previously believed. There is an unprecedented space of compassion for power, because we all recognize the exceptional nature of the circumstances. But it won’t last long. The only signal that I have received so far is sorry for Mayor Gori. Not much, but a start. A forerunner ..

The responsibility, for the moment, delegated to scientists. Not without some inconveniences, for example a Nobel Prize winner like Montagnier who marries conspiracy visions and destroys the efforts of many in ten minutes to arouse a collective awareness about the pandemic. But even here, especially here, no one allows themselves to contradict scientists, ever. In their presence we behave like school children. We pretend to forget that human science, that underestimations, errors, protagonisms, conflicts of interest and cowardice are part of it like any other discipline. At such a moment, this idealization reassures us and makes us comfortable. Calling scientists so respectfully into question, however, looks more and more like a screen: we ask them why we don’t understand each other. And if we make mistakes, it goes without saying, the responsibility not ours, but their advice.

[Il Corriere ha creato una newsletter sul coronavirus – e la fase 2. gratis: ci si iscrive qui]

At least, for once, they appear on television. I have familiarized myself with everyone, because since the lockdown started I have been watching a lot of TV. I don’t miss an evening talk show. In the talks, together with the scientists, there are obviously government representatives, politicians and journalists. Then there are many entrepreneurs and economics experts, lawyers, restaurateurs, tour operators and priests. Representatives of culture? School representatives? I tried to count them and as a champion, I hope quite representative, I chose the eleven prime time talks that I watched in the past week.

In the wake of what will happen with the app, I just report the aggregated data. The guests linked to culture invited to the broadcasts I have seen, considering the areas of the book, cinema, theater, music and even architecture, amount to 12 out of 84 (3 of which are organic in the program schedule). Those of school zero. The arithmetic mean of their ages: 66 years, because Zerocalcare lowers it a bit. No principal, no teacher, no publisher, no film producer, no bookseller. In that dozen, one woman.

I know, one must avoid at all costs to personify the virus, as well as to attribute moral or metaphysical characteristics to it. But sometimes the strong temptation, the temptation to recognize it a bearer of truth, capable of unmasking previous pathologies of the system we live in. Like a gender gap still so conspicuous. Like the hiding of the school and some generations from public debate. Like the marginality of culture, with the exception of some writers or actors who occasionally perform their ornamental function. Like the axiom that school and culture are separate sectors from the rest of social life. Prostheses to attach and detach.
What does this have to do with the health security and civil liability we need so that phase 2 does not become another cataclysm? If the question arises, the problem is even more serious than it seems.

April 27, 2020 (change April 27, 2020 | 08:33)

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songs, stories and poems by the Hyundai Music Park artists for the little ones

Madrid

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Now more than ever, the children are showing that they are capable of everything, helping at home, doing homework at school … showing that they are the true braves of this story. They are being our inspiration and that’s why Hyundai wants to thank you with a very special project:

Thanks to the collaboration of the artists of Hyundai Music Park, a video will be published with a lullaby, a story or a poem, performed by different artists for the smallest of the house. Since last April 14 they are already available daily, from 8:15 p.m., on the website of Hyundai Experience and on Hyundai’s social media channels.

Some of the artists who have already joined this very special project are: Conchita, Javier Ojeda, Juan Zealand, Sole Giménez, The Kanka, Maria Rodes, Chipi (El Canalla) … and later new additions will be revealed. In addition, anyone who wants a specific lullaby can request it from the artists of Hyundai Music Park to interpret it.

[[Click here to see them all]

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Monday poetry: today, “when he comes forward I wonder why”

What everyone feared has happened: in France too, confinement has indeed increased domestic violence. The opportunity to remind in passing that the platform Stop violence, where it is possible to anonymously report cases of violence, remains active.

On the poetry side, Perrine Le Querrec released, just before confinement, an important, hard book, nourished by her meetings with women victims of violence during her residency in Louviers, in late 2017 and early 2018. “Kissing, taking out the notebook, heating the tea water, taking news of life, of children, then plunging back into the past, listening to each of their words, finally listening after so much silence around them, so much indifference “, details Le Querrec in his residence journal. From these testimonies, she composes poems, but never falls into aestheticization. The speech of these women remains raw, terrible, up to the trauma suffered and the difficulty of rebuilding. “Today if I tell you everything is fine, you can believe me / Even if inside / I’m still afraid”.

The text first appeared in the Norman editor Christophe Chomant and “We will hardly forget – and besides why forget it – our amazement, that day in May 2019 when, at the festival of the first novel in Laval, we heard Perrine Le Querrec attack Whore red to dumbfounded assistance “, says the editor of this new version.

Here is one of the poems from the book.


Marks

Blush eye shadow lipstick, no
Foundation, yes
The main tool, capital
Hide hide
Erase blue sores from wounds on the face
bumps
Clear face
Write on the mirror
I feel nothing nothing nothing
I don’t feel anything
We will see nothing nothing nothing
No one sees me
I feel nothing nothing nothing
I see nothing
And when he moves I wonder why
And when he is silent I wonder why
And when he comes forward I wonder why
And when he closes the door I wonder why
And when he opens a bottle, I know why
And when he rubs his hands, I know why
And when he cracks his fingers, I know why

Perrine Le Querrec, Whore red, Editions de la Contre-Allée, 96 pages, 15 euros


Guillaume Lecaplain

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Sarah Maldoror, the key to song

Maldoror, farewell!“Seems to greet her, several decades after she had decided to bear this name of revolt, the third song of Lautréamont’s poem. Filmmaker Sarah Maldoror died yesterday, April 13, of the aftermath of Covid-19, her two daughters announced. Born Sarah Ducados in 1929 in Condom (Gers), of a mother from south-west of metropolitan France and a Guadeloupean father, Sarah Maldoror has been the author of around forty films composing a multiple and rebellious work, made of fiction, documentary and poetry, and inaugurated with a combat song: the short film Monangambee, filmed in 1969 in Algiers where she lived then, which evokes the torture by the Portuguese colonial army of a sympathizer of the fight for the liberation of Angola, visited in prison by his companion.

Before becoming a pioneer of pan-African cinema, Sarah Maldoror lived part of her youth in Paris where, passionate about theater and received at the school of the rue Blanche (according to her comrade, the future Ivorian filmmaker Timité Bassori, they are among the first black students to enter), she co-founded in 1956 with the same Bassori, Toto Bissainthe, Ababacar Samb Makharam and Robert Liensol the company Les Griots, which became the first black theater company in France. The Tragedy of King Christophe of Aimé Césaire and the Negroes by Jean Genet (in a staging by Roger Blin) are among the pieces created by the troupe, which Maldoror presides for a time, with the material help and the intellectual support of Alioune Diop, founder in 1947 of the important Parisian anti-colonial review African presence.

One of the first African films made by a woman

In 1961, Sarah Maldoror left France and went to study at VGIK, the Moscow film school, before joining the African decolonization movements (in Algeria, Guinea and Guinea-Bissau) with her companion Mario Pinto de Andrade, met in Paris and co-founder of the Movement for the Liberation of Angola, in exile while the war of independence (1961-1975) against the Portuguese metropolis is raging.

It was in Algiers, where she moved in 1966, that she got her start on the cinematographic front of anti-colonial struggles: assistant on the Battle of Algiers by Gillo Pontecorvo (1966) and Pan-African Festival of Algiers 1969, documentary by William Klein, she soon makes her first film, followed by a lost film shot in Guinea-Bissau and a first feature film “fiction”, Sambizanga (1972). Filmed in the Republic of Congo, based on an Angolan novel by José Luandino Vieira, adapted by his companion Pinto de Andrade with the French writer Maurice Pons, Sambizanga takes place in 1961 and describes the repression of the Angola Liberation Movement from the point of view of Maria, the wife of a revolutionary activist imprisoned and tortured by the Portuguese army, who sets out to find him across the country. Shot with real actors in the fight then in progress, and one of the first African films directed by a woman from film stories, Sambizanga remains visible and visible today – it can easily be found on the Internet.

Many portraits of artists and writers

Leaving Algeria following a disagreement with the ruling FLN hierarchy (some sources mention that she was imprisoned and then expelled from the country), Sarah Maldoror moved to France, in Saint-Denis (Seine-Saint -Denis), and continues to make films. His work includes documentaries (filmed in Seine-Saint-Denis, Martinique, Guyana or Cape Verde for Fogo, the island of fire in 1978) and numerous portraits of artists and writers (the poets Léon Gontran-Damas, Aimé Césaire, Assia Djebar, René Depestre or Louis Aragon, singer Toto Bissainthe, musician Archie Shepp). Visible on the CNRS video library site, a short film from 1974, And the dogs were silent, filmed in the reserves of the Museum of the man devoted to the objects of black Africa, adapts extracts from the play of the same name of Aimé Césaire, with the actor Gabriel Glissant (seen in Sun O of the great Med Hondo) and the filmmaker herself in the role of the revolutionary’s mother, dressed in an ironic white scientist’s coat. But if there is a science of revolt, Sarah Madoror will have written, turned, played and acted on some of the biggest pages. You can hear it twice more than once, everywhere behind the scenes at the Museum of Man, the sound of fire.


Luc Chessel

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Monday poetry: today, “the pronoun makes the sound”

Funny title. Yann Miralles’ latest book (born in 1981, lives in the Gard, teaches in Avignon) is called Hui. Yes: “hui”, like the word which used to designate the day we are in and which we find a persistence in our “today” which ended up replacing it (“It is unfortunate that we changed this word [“hui”] for such a heavy equivalent “, deplores the Littré). All of Miralles’ poetry is there: his literature is absolutely current; she is today. But she is not afraid to use forms from the past.

Hui is divided into three parts: the first is the story of an encounter with electro music, the second is an ode to the Rhône, the last, a family love song. Whether it follows the rhythm of Daft punk or follows a cutting into files as if we were navigating in the windows of a computer, the language of Miralles draws from the codes of a classic lyricism, using a sustained vocabulary , ampersand, even, or forms like the address “ô” (in the first part, this striking appearance on the dance floor: “Oh suddenly brown in robotics”). The poem on the Rhône, on the other hand, follows on from Frédéric Mistral, the Occitan writer who sang the same river. “We fiddle as best we can / his poem. & that / in a language of gold and embers / dummies. “

Here is the beginning of the third part ofHui, inspired in particular, Miralles tells us, through passages from the Bible, Gramsci Ashes Pasolini and I and you by Martin Buber.


now that the cry has been heard / sounded
behind the curtain, in the sudden the simple past where it was a
times – but still resounds in the present of our
ears – he crosses the curtain (ideas dreams dreams old words)
and, passing over, as tears it apart. he goes to & up to us
today. when
voice & face coincide.

now that we’re here, in like the maximum real,
helpless, two hands in front of two hands behind – way of
laugh & say that we are there and that we are naked (the room is
neutral, streaked with blue, irrefragable lighting, we are busy
face muted it looks like the pain is fading but you say that
we’re still pulling, we’re waiting a bit, then I feel it tearing up,
what takes me away like a weight – this is the event
the adventure that begins here) –
the there / we are like a breath, a tremor:

the murmur of a light breeze.

it’s that brief bleating, all pure fragility & phatic
(file 1) – the thrill it causes – which causes
also the sudden and subtle displacement of the pronoun tu:

like a camera movement, photographic or
flying, the focal point is imperceptibly focused on a nearby point,
very slight camber, or the machine roars its haughty journey,
we think to go straight the wing and the sky does not move it seems,
but a ray then crosses the cabin sweeps it slowly, and
through the window it’s an unnoticed net, it’s almost nothing, a few
clouds – otherwise blue,

suddenly you and you
more than adding up: multiplying or just making one.
the pronoun takes the sound & shines everything it touches /
takes up all the space:

you are there.

Yann Miralles, Hui, Unes editions, 64 pages, 16 euros.


Guillaume Lecaplain

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