Francesca Pennacchi

Francesca Pennacchi was born in Marina di Carrara in 1929. After a few years her father moved to Ethiopia for work. Francesca joined him with her mother and sister in 1937, sailing from Livorno to Addis Abeba.

 
The journey, reuniting with her father, searching for a new home: experiences that marked Francesca's childhood and allowed her to get to know a new world, to discover a colourful, fascinating and mysterious land, completely unaware of the political and military dynamics behind the Italian presence in Ethiopia. When war broke out, her father was called to the front: her mother and the two girls faced the return to Italy alone, also experiencing imprisonment by the British.

“The new home”

At last the day has brought us some joy: we’ve found a home! At least that's what my exultant father has told us; I am really happy, especially for him, and I think that now, with a house to live in, everything will change and that even Africa will seem more beautiful to me. We cross the whole town in a yellow taxi, driving along streets that are sometimes asphalt and sometimes dirt, full of black and white people. Daddy talks euphorically all the time: “There are all races in Addis Ababa, Turks, Armenians, Greeks, Arabs.... we all live together here and we live well. When we're settled in, I'll take you to see the Turkish bazaars, which are full of amazing things, and the Abyssinian market, and I'll introduce you to lots of nice people […]

We suddenly come upon a forest of fragrant eucalyptus trees and, amidst the greenery, we see a tin roof: it's the house! My heart leaps for joy, my sister keeps monotonously repeating “It’s lovely! It’s lovely!”. Mummy has no reaction, but I like to think that, inside, she is very happy but doesn't want to show it because she is afraid of being disappointed. It's such a lovely house! Raised from the ground like a pile-dwelling, all white, it has a pretty wooden veranda at the front, covered by rambling passion flowers; a short distance away there is a dignified tucul in which, daddy tells us, the master of the house and of the whole forest lives with his servants, his children and one of his five wives […]

After looking around, mummy takes charge of the situation enthusiastically, thank God, perhaps because it's all so clean: “We'll divide this big room into bedrooms with sheets, then we'll gradually arrange everything”. Her words reassure us and daddy too and, delighted to have finally gained her general approval, he rushes back and forth to get us some cots, a small petrol stove, an oil lamp, a few pots and pans and some dishes[...].

Sighè, who has come back to bring us a jar of honey, looks on amused at all mummy's efforts, while my sister and I, delighted at so much activity, do our best to help out, trying to improvise a table and chairs out of some crates that daddy has managed to find for us. Of course the table and chairs turn out to be rather basic, but in the end it's all great fun and mummy's enthusiasm puts us at ease, even making us happy.

Story collected in collaboration with the Archivo Diaristico Nazionale.