The shepherdess who loves the wind and silence

In Calabria Grecanica(1), there is a small ‘ghost village’ leaning against a spur of rock that looks like a gigantic hand stuck in the earth. The name of the village derives from this peculiar geological configuration: Pentidattilo, meaning five fingers. It is said that when the wind is strong enough to open the windows of the houses in Pentidattilo, the empty rooms emit sounds that resemble old lullabies. Some believe that these hisses are the voices of the ghosts of the Alberti, the noble family killed by the suitor of the family’s daughter, from the rival Abenavoli family, enraged by her engagement to another man. Lit by the dawn, the five fingers of Mount Calvario overlooking the town remind of the bloody hand of the ferocious murderer, “the hand of the devil.”

This small village in the province of Reggio Calabria, after being the scene of violent feudal struggles and devastating earthquakes tor centuries, was declared uninhabitable in the seventies and its inhabitants moved to the new houses built a little further downstream.

It has been a ‘ghost village’ since then, reachable on foot by a narrow stone road that winds along the rocky ridge between prickly pear pads and Mediterranean shrubs. Almost all the houses are in ruins with collapsed ceilings, doors and window frames torn off by severe weather, but in the fiery light of the sunset when the first pale streetlamps are turned on, the town shows itself in all its splendor. Today only two people live here: Rossella, a peasant and shepherdess from Viterbo, in love with this inaccessible and lonely place, and Maka, the young Malian who helps her in the fields and with the goats.

“I arrived here by chance in 1983,” Rossella recalls. She was 23 at the time and had just resigned from the permanent position as rural postwoman in the province of Viterbo, where she was born and raised. “I wanted to discover the world and left with a group of friends. When I landed in this abandoned village I was enchanted. It was very beautiful, it had not yet suffered fires and the houses were all intact. I was fascinated by the small details of this simple country architecture, unfortunately lost after the recent renovation, and that huge rock with its incredible energy was pure magic,” she adds.

At first, she rented a small house for the equivalent of about 10 euros a month: it had no bathroom or running water and there was also no lock on the door which she had to close with a fabric ribbon at night. “I'm a peasant, I like old things, the more uncomfortable and difficult they are, the more they fascinate me!”, she exclaims laughing. And continues: “I love solitude, the wind, the silence, walking slowly in the countryside immersed in the sounds and scents of nature. I don't know if I would have stayed if this place had been inhabited.”

Initially they were in three in the village: a young Austrian sculptor, his girlfriend and her. “The countryside around here was lush and uncontaminated, it looked like an earthly paradise: every morning I walked along the streams looking for medicinal herbs. The Sant’Elia stream which flows right under the village was full of thyme, yarrow, mallow and wild fennel. Not far away there were expanses of chamomile and helichrysum, and I could fill my baskets with marigolds everywhere,” she recalls. The abundant winter and spring rains made it possible to irrigate the fields and provide water for the animals even in summer. “I used to fall asleep with a smile on my face­ lulled by the song of the stream, while the water flowed incessantly. I haven't heard it for at least two years now, the territory is desertifying.”

In the last decades, drought has become a huge problem in this area in southern Italy and at this point it seems like an irreversible process. Rossella's small garden faces difficulties in the dry season, though still guaranteeing her subsistence. For four years a small hospitality business that includes the social eating project “Peasant cuisine” has been set up in addition to agricultural production and herding. On warm summer evenings, its guests gather on the large shared terrace to enjoy excellent homemade cheeses, delicious ricottas preserved in traditional woven molds, freshly baked bread, fresh vegetables and excellent local wine. The surrounding countryside slopes gently down to the sea, offering a magnificent view and when the north wind blows, you can see the suggestive profile of Etna beyond the strait in the distance.

“I dream of an alternative model to the society that is on the edge of a precipice and blindly continues to consume”

Maka, a Malian boy who arrived on the Calabrian coast while still a minor, helps Rossella work the fields and look after her twenty goats. “I was looking for someone to give me a hand and I decided to contact the Exodus center [which operates in the sector of reception, integration and protection services for asylum seekers and refugees, ed]. First came a very thin and very tall Pakistani, with long black hair that looked like silk and brown eyes full of sweetness. After him came a very exuberant Nigerian who looked more like a model than a shepherd. He used to go around with a long wooden stick and a straw cylinder to protect himself from the sun: it was hilarious!” she says laughing.

“Maka has been with me for two years now. He knows how to do everything and he has an extremely agile and strong body, capable of adapting to any circumstance, even to the most difficult climatic conditions. I share this agro-pastoral adventure with him and we are fine, we have a great harmony: I am very lucky to have met him.”

Pentidattilo is one of the stops of the Paleariza itinerant festival of music and popular traditions of the Calabria Grecanica and it hosts an international short film festival between August and September, but both events are currently suspended due to the Covid 19 pandemic. For some years now some artisans have opened small shops in the alleys of the village, which has become a stop on many trekking routes. “Sometimes I feel like I'm here for a specific reason, as if I have a mission to accomplish”, continues Rossella. “I welcome people from all over the world and I feel like a humble farmer who offers them the warmth of simplicity, making them feel at home. I met hundreds of travelers, woofers and people who happened to be here by chance. I call them all children of Pentidattilo because this is a place that remains in your heart. Many have returned, others continue to write to me even years later.”

Rossella, together with a couple of German friends, has recently bought a house behind the cliff where she would like to create a project for diffused hospitality and exchange of knowledge on rurality and sustainable development. “I dream of an alternative model to the society that is on the edge of a precipice and blindly continues to consume”, she comments with a sigh, her eyes lit by a spark of hope. And she concludes: “I hope that young Calabrians begin to appreciate their beautiful territory. I invite them to retrieve their roots and to revive the small, abandoned villages, protecting this priceless heritage.”

(1) The Area Grecanica of Calabria includes four villages — Bova, Gallicianò, Roghudi and Roccaforte del Greco — where Greek is still spoken, and five — Pentidattilo, San Lorenzo, Condofuri, Amendolea and Staiti — where the language is no longer in use.

Click here to read the original Italian version of the article.