Sicilianca si clubul de noapte

Secretul defectarii cluburilor, atat de bine prezentat in the Family Guy, e diversitatea lui. Formula vazuta cu ochii mei, pe vremea cand eram student, la cluburile din complexul balnear al orasului meu universitar. Daca pana atunci erau copilandri nevinovati, cu brate slabe si deloc ingrosate de varsta si hormoni, care incercau sa guste viata noua, de semi-adult, dintr-o data apareau cocalari trasi de fiare, cu figuri si tricouri, ori albe ori negre, mulate, si cu fete rase si rotunjite de varsta. Erau adulti deja, nu erau studenti si niciodata nu au fost, o granita de netrecut.

In US, unde e foarte important sa fii fericit si constructia vietii se bazeaza, de fapt, pe acest principiu, de a-ti face prieteni, carora sa le dai increderea ta neconditionata (intr-o tara unde nu se acorda incredere doar decat pe un sistem rigid de relatii si pile profesionale), cu care sa-ti petreci week-endurile, lucru insinuat inca din cartile copilariei, societatea se aseamana foarte mult cu un club, unde lumea se distreaza si danseaza. Insinuata, de data asta mai putin subtil, prin propaganda socialista, fericirea ca diversitate, unde toti oamenii, cu pielea corpului in diferite variante de maro si cu ochi bulbucati si negri, neeuropeni, isi dau mana si se bucura toti de acest club denumit cel mai liber si mai grozav dintre toate. 

Cateodata asta functioneaza, cateodata nu, caci nimeni nu ii place schimbatul brusc al muzicii rock pe manele si invers. Se mai cauta inca melodii nu neaparat manele, dar ceva care sa placa la toti, impuse de cocalari si sustinatorii acestora. Noroc ca clubul e mare si poate fi impartit in cluburi mai mici, unde se aduna cine se aseamana.

Ce se intampla, insa, cand un taran de la tara, venit din clubul sau comunal, ajunge intr-un club la oras? Priveste in jur mirat si entuziasmat, stramba din nas ca la noi e mai bine, se aliaza cu cei putinii prematuri care ghicesc stricarea clubului impotriva cocalarilor sau toate la un loc?

Quora, site de care am fost entuziasmat la inceput, site-ul unde intrebi ceva si altul, om la fel ca tine, amator si nu profesional, insa cu alt tip de experienta si cultura, iti raspunde, site care se bazeaza pe inteligenta multumilor, a devenit un club. De la romanca din articolul trecut care ne explica ca asta nu e o intrebare, e doar o rabufnire si, se intelege, spunem la revedere la nesimtiti, pana la americanul socialist care ne explica rautatea domnului Donald Trump, ajungem acum la o sicilianca. 

Intrebarea, insinuatoare, dar sa nu facem si noi greseala netratarii ei pe acest motiv, este Why do so many Americans feel such a strong hatred toward illegal immigrants?

Iar raspunsul, foarte similar cu ce ar raspunde intr-un univers paralel o moldoveanca tanara, de catre Aurora Vecchio, este:

This is my first answer on quora. I am more of a reader than a writer, but this question and its answers really stir something in me.

I am not American. I am Italian. I was born in South Italy. The financial crisis, here…there aren't even words to describe it. You have to be here to understand. Welfare is not existent. People are starving. Every year more than 30000 people leave my islands, Sicily, to seek a better life somewhere else in Europe. That's how young people with 2 degrees and a PhD end up serving tables in the UK or Germany.

As for me, I graduated from the toughest Law school in Italy when I was 24 years old. Highest grade. After that, I asked a loan to my bank ( I come from a really poor family that could not pay for that) and went to study English in the United States. It was a dream coming through. When I started, my English was level A1. 6 months later it was C2. Once the course was over, I had to leave. I left with tears in my eyes. Once back in Sicily, I worked hard to find a legal internship in the USA and a sponsor. After almost 2 years, I found it. I got a J1 visa to work in a law firm in Washington DC. Another dream coming true. For 15 months I worked extremely hard and extremely well. I was praised by everyone. Unfortunately, one night one of the main partners, who usually was never around, gave me too many “attentions”. I did not reciprocate them. Not that day, not the following week. Two weeks later I was suddenly fired without any explanation. Escorted out of the building like a criminal, without even having the chance to clear my desk. I contacted my sponsor. It was clear something was wrong, as only a few weeks before the firm was praising my work. But I was an intern on a J1 visa. Even if it was cristal clear that I had been unjustly fired, there was nothing to do. I had to leave the country, in 2 weeks. I had a wonderful apartment, friends, a life. I had to leave everything behind and go back to Italy. There I found out that my brother had fallen very sick (almost died) and lost his job. He was the only source of income.

Anyway, I didn't give up on the American dream. I applied to a law school in Maryland for a Master of Laws. I got accepted. My mother, brother and aunt helped me to get other two loans to support my studies. They really gave their souls.

I graduated in May. After that, I was able to stay one year longer to train with a law firm. We applied for an h1 visa so that I could stay longer ( it costs a lot of money to apply). Unfortunately, the number of applications is 4 times the number of visas avalaible. So in the end it is a lottery. I didn't win it. I had to leave. I had to leave my apartment, my life, my friends, my great job. Everything again.

I was destroyed. Consumed. I had studied in the US. Worked. Paid taxes and tuitions. Still, I was kicked out, just like that.

People had suggested me to marry an American, but I didn't want to marry for a green card. It didn't feel right. I had my integrity.

I have been in Italy for 2 years now. No hopes for me to go back to the States. No hopes to find a job here. My family is struggling. While I write, there is no food in the fridge. We don't have a car anymore, in a city where without car is impossible to leave the house.

I have been washing restrooms in Germany and done babysitting jobs just to earn something.

I am desperate. I have students loans to pay. But there are no jobs in Italy ( not even as waitress) and a foreign law degree is of no use in the other European countries. I have a law degree and a master degree. Still, I am jobless. I could only find a good job in the USA, but no chances to get a visa.

I followed the rules from the first moment to the last. So much money spent only to pay for the different visas fees . And what I got? This. Desperation. In the hopeless place I was trying to escape.

I met a lot of illegal immigrants while in the States. One of them was even a close friend of mine, working as paralegal in the law office in DC. Some of them had three storeys houses. Luxurious cars. Huge plasma screens. Apple laptops. Nice office jobs. Everything. They didn't care about the rules. They entered, one way or another, and stayed. They won. They have a job and make money. I followed all the rules. Worked hard. And lost. Kicked out of the country. I will never have the career I worked hard for. My sacrifices of 12 years are worth nothing.

Usually people say that illegal immigrants deserve our understanding and forgiveness because they were desperate. I object this argument. I know desperation very well. I have been knowing it for a very long time. Still I chose and keep choosing to follow the rules.

Mine is not an isolated case. People who follow the rules, pay taxes, etc, have to leave and get their lives completely messed up. They get punished. They have to give up on the career they worked for. People who never cared, not even for a second, they, well, they get to stay and are protected under the shield of “ wanting a better life”. No, no, and no. We legal immigrants want a better life, too. But would never break or bend the rules to get it. It kills us. We suffer. But we go on. With our head high. The United States are my home. I miss them so freaking much, but I have to accept that I cannot be there.

Illegal immigrants who never went through the hassle I went through for years are there.

Sentimente profunde, emotii puternice, mila de sine, sentiment inaltator de a ramane drept si demn in ploaia umilirii, in timp ce sobolanii ce incalca si rod legea o duc indestulator cu vile si plasme... ce pot sa zic. Emotii, insa nu ratiune. Nu se ridica la inaltimea unui raspuns la standardele nescrise ale quorei.

America nu este responsabila pentru situatia financiara a unei sicilience neindemanace. Nu inseamna ca trebuie sa te primeasca, cu incalcarea legii, in sanul ei, permanent, pe o biata studenta venita pe o perioada de timp limitata. Care, asa cum se tradeaza singura, venise pentru bani si bunuri, si nu pentru a face parte din tara, nici macar nu putuse asta, caci viza era temporara. De buna seama, americanii nu ii urasc pe imigranti, de fapt, cam in orice locsor american unde mergi ajungi sa interactionezi cu multi dintre ei si e la ordinea zilei sa te intelegi tolerant si binevoitor prin semne in magazine. In multe convorbiri din care am facut parte s-a pus intrebarea de unde esti? si nu mie, taramul celor liberi nefiind decat un club format din oameni ce au venit de la mare distanta, adunati toti la un loc.

Dar intrebarea pe care o pun eu... de ce italienii si sicilienii ii urasc asa de mult pe romani? 

Si romanii au dreptul lor la urmarirea bunastarii si fericirii. Odata cu intrarea in UE au venit foarte multi imigranti romani in Italia, fie temporari, fie permanenti, toti lucrand si punand osul la ea. Nu imi amintesc ca americanii sa fi tinut captivi pe italieni, batandu-i si violandu-i, in toate valurile lor de emigrare in USA, ba mai mult, acestia au adus mafia peste ocean (desi au adus si foarte multi politisti), ca pe romanca tinuta captiva 10 ani intr-un beci de un italian. Nu, nu e "exceptie", e vorba de cazuri repetate peste tot in tara, de femei romance care literalmente traiesc in sclavie, fortate sa lucreze si sa intretine relatii sexuale cu seniorii italieni. Rusinea si umilirea este mai mare, caci italienii nu folosesc nici prezervative, ci le lasa intentionat gravide, acestea ducand la o alarmanta crestere a avorturilor in micul si linistitul orasel italian, caci Italia, fie tara papei, e si tara decameronului. Toate aceste femei sunt sarace, venite la munca, nu la cersit, au familie si cativa copilasi ce nu au nici rechizite pentru scoala. Sunt venite in Italia cu un vis si care sfarseste cu destramarea unei familii si traume pe viata. Cata ura ai putea sa ai fata de un muncitor roman incat sa ii dai foc? Cazuri de genul acesta sunt atat de abundente incat nici macar nu mai sunt prezentate in presa. Iar daca ajung in media se sfarsesc inevitabil cu fraza cauzele incidentului sunt necunoscute, însă anchetatorii iau în calcul mai multe variante. Nu cred ca ai nevoie de enumerarea mai multor variante cand majoritatea italienilor, cu vocea lor, in plina strada si sub lumina camerelor de filmat spun ca romanii trebuie sa moara, moarte romanilor!

Se pare ca aceeasi intrebare o pune si the guardian, cand prezenta cazul unor italieni ce savurau plaja, la cativa pasi de doi copii de tigani romani morti. Nu cred ca s-a prins nici sora-mea si nici cumnatul meu, dupa ce patronul unui magazin de haine sicilian le-a urlat sa iasa afara din magazin ca el nu vinde nimic romanilor, de ce a fost asa de urati de bastinasi.

Aurora, fato. Nu strica clubul. Stai acasa si nu mai iesi noaptea asta nicaieri. Esti o basinoasa ipocrita.