all starts when it is time for X ... that is the time that showed signs prohibiting parking placed to access the square ...
was starting, the agitation increased, invaded all the euphoria: children, teens and adults. Generations of Sanpitrara together to organize a week of games and life together in honor of Saint Peter, in favor of all Sanpitrara .
The years of this writing are those of my childhood. Less than 25 years ago in short, not very much. I lived in an apartment where the view overlooking the whole square in front of the west side of the church of San Pietro in Trapani. From there, I saw everything and everyone. I sat on the couch in front of a balcony that looked right in front of the Palace of the Court - the first in my building told me that there was a wonderful view of the city of Erice - and watched the cars pass and people.
In fact, the organization of the Feast of St. Peter was something that concerned a few kids and few mature men of good will of the district and parish, and with the little money made available by Archpriest Father Giacalone, organized a week of festivities , games, sports, short, social, in a neighborhood that for the rest of the year was virtually helpless - exceptions are the various processions - and agitated only by the noise of cars, trucks and public transit Trapani for work and business red tape, what's more nervous than chaos. In the memories of those who lived it, that's certainly the heyday of the neighborhood.
A closer look, then, the years of writing ... the decline had already depopulated the district of Trapani and the age-old presence of people everywhere, as the harbor district of San Pietro (passing people who came from anywhere the world), is now starting to be annoying, especially since these people were no longer in the conditions adequate social integration. Who arrived in Trapani until the end of 800, we can find a thousand reasons to stop, along with thousands of ways to earn a living without giving any trouble to the native population, which in fact became a part, also learning the dialect, customs and costumes.
Today, the reality of the old Rione San Pietro - as happens in many parts of Italy - is very different. Houses in ruins, a few Italian residents, mostly elderly, and many European and African immigrants, unemployed and looking for a way to live. A neighborhood abandoned, so close to that beautiful "parlor" to shriek Trapani and to be accepted as an icon of the social situation mondiale. Nord del mondo ricco, Sud povero e indigente sono due facce dello stesso mondo globalizzato, interconnesso, ma molto squilibrato.
Agganciarmi ai ricordi, allora, è un modo per far rivivere quei tempi e per sperare che possano tornare. La speranza non deve mai cedere il passo alla delusione.
I cartelli erano posizionati negli accessi principali della piazzetta antistante la chiesa di San Pietro, dove solo una cinquantina di anni fa esisteva uno stupendo “curtigghiu”, ereditiero della Trapani antica di tradizione araba, dove viuzze strette che sbucano in piazze tutte uguali servivano a confondere gli invasori che arrivavano dal porto.
La sera prima era quella della “sosta vietata”. As soon as we heard the first noises, immediately asked our parents to be able to "go down" ... at midnight! Obviously the answer was negative and he would talk the next day, but the guys just start working ... still "scarrozza" the car, now parked prohibited, preparing the square for the next day ... there was so much work.
The work began early. There were several "teams". Those with brooms, paint those, those lights, those baskets of ... it was a nondescript square transformed into a basketball court and volleyball. We were the smallest "team scope", which were used to clean the dusty asphalt. The other teams were reserved for older children, with whom you work anyway. In less than three days, the camp was over. With a lot of hurdles to avoid unwanted crossings. Already the barricades. This is also a defining moment ... just check " Nasune " the corner of Corso Italy, we began to call loudly shouting ... imagine what fun!
Everything was ready now. Away games ...
There were many games for us kids. The "ginkana" with the bike, the sack race, treasure hunt, the " pignateddrhe ," the football tournament table, ping pong tournament ... what fun! How many memories! How do you translate those feelings. Sorry, but I can not ... I hope you feel the emotion ... I
pignateddrhe were Trapanese the game more that could be done. A rope, pignateddrhe Terracotta, a stick, a blindfolded child, the cries of so many other children who "drove" ... so many laughs, some candy and lots of flour "slime" that ended up on the clothes of the unfortunate but happy participants who managed to break the pignateddrhe .
There were also games for major tournaments ... football, ping pong tournaments, treasure hunts e, più di ogni altra cosa, il tiro alla fune …
Il tiro alla fune era in pratica il “San Pietro show”. In quella competizione si scontravano le varie fazioni del quartiere… che per la verità era un po’ screditato… chiddrhe da Marunnuzza, chiddrhe ‘ra marina, chiddrhe ‘ru Santu Patre, chiddrhe ‘ra via Mercè, chiddrhe ‘ru Catito … che riflettevano in forma stereotipata le “ sciarre ”, le “ discussioni ”, le “ questioni ” ( c’è questione, ah?!?! ), le battaglie “ a pitratuna ” e “ chi slings "or simply the games of football that put in front of various groups of children and adolescents in the neighborhood. St. Peter's why the district was not only a neighborhood for many, but a veritable training ground for life! To be clear, that crime was not described, were not degraded when life experiences behind them was a group of teachers capable of instilling values. And fortunately for me and my friends, we had a great "team of educators, from parents to their parishioners, from schools to the neighborhood we grew older and we resumed!
Once the games in the afternoon, there was a pause ... religious. In fact, c'andavano to Mass in a few, but the Novena was a highlight event for old people and for "parrinari" doc ... And in the meantime, the square was the exclusive domain of children, who took over for impromptu games of basket of a sport that, St. Peter's, is gaining increasing ground thanks to the "business" Basketball Drills (in its heyday in series A). But, thanks to the efforts of the legendary Avis Stadium, sports club of the parish who had representative football, basketball, volleyball and both male and female in all categories provincial amateur. The Avis Stadium was the culmination of a group of young that gave body and soul to the sport, to the parish in general, to the other. With an order not so categorical.
The feast of St. Peter continued into the evening. After a break for dinner - almost never had a real break because the baskets were always occupied by at least a couple of kids and me and my brother there to finish before eating stuff themselves and achieve them! - Was recovering with the evening games, a basketball court, a volleyball. It was an opportunity for entertainment and fun, not only for the neighborhood, but also for Trapani, especially those of the old town, where in summer, to be honest, things to do in the evenings have always been a little bit ... 're simenza, a little laughter and the night is done! A short, simple, but all real and intense!
week ran so short. In no time at all, the tournament came in the finals and the game ends with the awards, medals and trophies for all the small and large. And to distribute all, in addition to the late Archpriest Father, was a well-known media Trapani have "great " Nicholas Conforti ... sampitraro doc, along with the family radio: Radio Heart today, but for us it is the 'unforgotten Hobby Radio Tele ...
Other times, other sensations. But there is a thing of which still have not written. Perhaps the most beautiful, one that encompasses the spirit of the games of St. Peter and perhaps that is saved for last ( the last but not least! ).
During the afternoon and evening matches, while we were busy little to cheer for our Avis Stadium, often funny happened a curtain. I remember a mass of white hair that savaged the ball between the fear of spectators and players. It was a big white Maremma, whose master is another Sampitraro doc, but I can not remember the name. How many balls has run that big dog eat. Among the many, even mine!
And this was the feast of San Petro . Games, laughter, togetherness, sports, fun ... forse la parte più bella e sincera delle energie che abitavano il cuore pulsante di Trapani. Una volta, purtroppo. Speriamo anche nel futuro.
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