Some of you have been following my family history: my father has uncovered some amazing documents which I would like to share with you. You may remember he arrived in Abbateggio in 1947 with his younger sister Teta (see http://www.writelink.co.uk/blogs/chausiku/2008/11/25/p5711#more5711 ). I have translated the only remaining letter from her to the family back in Rome, written on their second day there. I find the tone delightful, and the details fascinating. Here it is:

Abbateggio, October 31, 1947

Dear family,

We’re coming to the end of our second day in this famous district. All well. There has been so much work, and so many people coming to meet ‘’u ‘gnor dottò’ [Mr Doctor Sir], that we haven’t had a moment to look around. Poor Ugo! He must have examined and treated twenty people, between those in the village and those outside. Now he’s removing an upper molar of a man who’s sitting in the middle of the empty room;

[More:]

the tools are laid out on two chairs. May God look after them both, because Ugo has realised he has neither the right pliers, nor the right Novocaine for the anaesthetic. A short while ago we went to visit a woman who looked as though she was about to have a miscarriage, and she probably had ovarian cysts too, and before that it was a young girl who had a deep cut in her leg (these visits meant two grappas and two disgusting coffees, which we had to take, so as not to offend). The tooth is out now, painlessly. Now I have to start from the beginning again. Ugo would be outraged if he saw a letter which didn’t start at 2.20 a.m. of Thursday 30 October. So: we left in a hurry, I comfortably seated in the cabin; the others [Ugo and Vizioli, see below] being shaken around terribly in the back; our journey was made difficult by the rain, the fog, and the slippery surface. But the driver casually sped along at 80 k.p.h., whereas I would have driven at snail’s pace. So we arrived in Pescara at 8, with enough water to wash not just that small town, but half the world, dirty as it is. At Pescara, a quick snack in a bar, while the truck waited outside to bring us here (we’d already agreed with the driver and his assistant to pay the modest sum of 1,500 lire: apart from the coach being less comfortable, and stopping annoyingly all the time, we would have paid double that). Since we were only expected towards evening (and it was ten in the morning), they were still cleaning the house, so we went to our landlords, who invited us to lunch, as I wrote yesterday.

Straight after lunch, we set to work. In a few hours, everything was tidy, apart from the surgery, which was still in chaos. While Ugo was treating a child who had a third degree burn, Vizioli, who had stayed in Pescara, arrived [Alfonso Vizioli was another doctor from Rome, who was working in Sant’Eufemia, a nearby village: years later, some time after his first wife died of T.B., he and Teta were married]. He gave me a hand to get things organised, and later went on to Sant’Eufemia. At eight we went to bed and slept straight through till seven this morning. I forgot to mention that towards evening the sky cleared, and that this morning was bathed in magnificent sunshine, illuminating the beautiful valley that surrounds Abbateggio. The house is well exposed; the sunlight comes in from everywhere, when it’s there. The mud is awful, because it’s rained for six days, and the roads are chaotic because they’re putting in water pipes…..Help! Another patient has just arrived to get a tooth out. Ennio [Teta and Ugo’s older brother, a dentist] should be here. We’ll end up having dinner at nine tonight. Speaking of food, we’re doing pretty well. Summary of gifts received (in exchange for services, of course): ½ kilo walnuts, 3 kilos apples, ½ kilo pasta or maybe more, 1 loaf of bread, 1 focaccia, 7 eggs, a jar of tomato preserve, and a little salt. Tomorrow I will find a woman to bring water and to wash the clothes when necessary.

So far we have bought 1 ½ litres of oil (the latest tooth is out, thank goodness) and a few things for the house. We keep careful accounts down to the last cent. So far our earnings have been 100 lire for a medical certificate. I’ve met the teacher, a pleasant, elderly lady, and a middle-aged male teacher. The parish priest is rather like Aldo Vernengo [a family friend], only older.

The people here are so helpful. The landlady comes round all the time to ask whether we need anything: she brings water, but would like to do more. She’s pretty rough but very kind and good. Yesterday two young girls came to bring some things that Ugo had bought, and they insisted on sweeping the house. Since I was unpacking, they marvelled at every lovely object that appeared from those magical boxes. By the way, Vizioli admired our equipment and yesterday said he could do with the same, as I wrote, but I wouldn’t want papá to go to any trouble. If he can, could he get hold of a few things, but only if Vizioli asks? Here we already have a long list of things we need; let’s hope these will be the last bits of shopping (only of this type, unfortunately) that we have to ask of papá. Here there’s a very rudimentary plan of the house: Ugo was horrified when he saw it. I told him he would draw up a superb one, when he has time, but I’m afraid you may never receive it. Now I have no more space, but tomorrow I’ll write again. Infinite thanks to all of you for what you’ve done for us, especially mamma and papá. We’re very well; what about you?

Lots of love,

Teta and Ugo