The author is a jew boy, the grandson of an Italian jew escaped extermination because the list .... Schinder famous courses and resorts are strange history. To him our solidarity for not having looked away and not have been silent. When you start to look back and be silent in the face of small (large) as this injustice, freedom starts to die. It 'sad to see how ten years in Italy in the arrogance of any one currency, ignorance and lack of humanity are now the norm, including racist ranting, patrols and hunt for white christmas "different." Everywhere, even in civilized Tuscany. Our best wishes also to the boy with no arms and no name that is so determined to live well. (SP)
Dear Editor, is Sunday, December 27. Eurostar Roma-Bari. Around me, families met and tired after the Christmas celebrations, students return to their universities, workers a bit 'sad having to leave their city to resume work in the north. Together with them a boy with no arms. Yes, without arms, with two stumps made of three fingers sprouting from his shoulders. You got on the train with his forces. Put down the shoulder bag on the ground with enormous effort of the neck and pushes with his feet under the seat. Collapses in the chair. Behind the thick myopic glasses all his physical and psychological suffering as a gesture so simple for others to board the train. Deep breaths to still the beating of the heart. Will have maximum three decades. Let's go. Just before the station (...) passing the controller. A girl of twenty-five made up with great care and impeccable uniforms. Reached Armless boy asks him the ticket. These, articulating his words with great difficulty, managed to murmur a disjointed sentence: "No ticket, no make it in time, disability and handicap". With his mouth (the neck bends unnaturally, the veins swell, his face turns purple) pulls from his pocket a bunch of money. They are the exact figure for the fare. The controller counts them and bureaucratic tone tells the guy who does not do enough because the train ticket costs, in this case, fifty euro more. The boy says he has no mumbling the more money he can not pay any premium, and his voice cracking with tears for the repeated humiliation "Handicap, handicap." The passengers of the car, including myself, followed the scene with bated breath, many with their eyes planted on the ground, without even the courage to look. At this point, the girl becomes harder and turns to the guy with a dismissive tone, as if it were a criminal, has a look in his eyes accusingly slamming in the face of that poor wretch. To defend the young man tries to write something to communicate what can not be said, with her mouth takes the pen from his pocket and tries to write something on the table. The girl takes the pen and severely rebuked him, saying that you do not write on the tables of the train. The car fell silent ice cream. I wish to speak, but I'm stuck.
The girl decides to answer the question otherwise and in accordance with the procedure learned in the course for experienced controllers goes in search of bold steps to guard. With his departure from the scene come up for air travelers, and we all hope that the story ends there: a reprehensible way, a shame no queue, the controller gives up and is devoted to check the tickets to the rest of the train. But no. They come back in two. This time, however, before they reach the young disabled person, from my seat block and sub-controller and conductor do that given the special circumstances of the case is perhaps his frustration with a little 'more than compassion. To which the girl, apparently the tip in full swing, with acid air tells me that he is doing his duty, there are rules to enforce that responsibility is his, and I have nothing to do nothing. The conductor intervenes and asks me what my problem. The summary of the situation. Listened to my "statement", the conductor, who was also in his thirties, states that if the young man had not had time to make the ticket it was her fault and that there are still at the station self-service machines. Yes, you read right: in his opinion the solution would be the self-service machine. "But I do not have arms! How did you use the self service coffee?" I ask the conductor which, with its bureaucratic logic he replies: "There's assistance." "Of course, always full of assistants at the next State Railways the self-service machines "I say I, and I would add that the rules are valid only when it suits because during the first leg with the Eurostar booking essential was packed with people standing up without a ticket and the controller is not even past to check the tickets . 'And do you know why? "I said." Because those people had their arms there ...". In the meantime, all passengers who are following the evolution of the story remain silent. The conductor goes further and reached the boy recounts throughout the procedure, with equal indifference, equal aplomb.'s a difference, probably the result of his role as conductor: his decision will be enforceable. The guy has to get off the train, get a ticket for the next train to Rome and get on that. But the young man known how this thing, looking disoriented, sweating with fear, begins to shake his head and whole body in a desperate attempt to explain himself, expressed with the usual explanation explicit, clear word handicap. The response of the guard is ready: "You (who you?) Think we are racists, but we here do not discriminate against anyone, we just do our job, indeed, we are the opposite of racism." And having said that, on the advice of the girl controller, we proceed to Phase B: the police station. We arrived at the station (...). On the train go up two agents. Two quiet, middle-aged gentlemen. No aggression in the expression face or nell'incedere. Should be used in cases of passengers without tickets who do not want to pay. They go towards the young and disabled as they see one of them raises his hands to heaven and exclaimed loudly: "Ah, these, with these you can not do anything else happens a mess! These are always right, they can not them touch ". Then consult with the conductor and the girl and the controller is decided that the boy will come by train, a third controller will take the money and the disabled will be the ticket for the next train, but with no assured place: you will have to sit in the dining car. The young disabled person, totally at the mercy of events, now no longer tries to speak, but probably understands that he will be allowed to continue their journey in the dining car and then lifted, with the impetus of those who escaped from a danger of those who see the threat vanish, leans forward and kisses the hand of the conductor. Epilogue of the story. Sent down from the disabled train, before police abandoned the car, the girl calls the cops controller to write down my generalities. Astonished, I ask why. "Why did you hurt." "Did I not say bad words? I've prevented from doing your job?" I ask more and more incredulous. Answer: "You told me you are rude." I get up and get my license. While a police officer shall record my data on a sheet asking the girl to tell me his name to know with whom I had the pleasure of interacting. She, after a moment of disorientation, sounding satisfied, I said it was not required to give your details and tells me that if I could record the number of the train. Then ask a reference to the police and they too refuse and I recommend simply marks: Police train (...). I of course meant many things, but the lady sitting next to me whispered to me not to say anything, and I decide to follow the board sits down again. Police officers and inspectors leave the car and the train starts. The words of my neighbor's place were the only words of solidarity that I have heard in this whole ugly story. For the rest, were all still, in silence, watching.
The author is a writer and editor on December 30, 2009 Republic
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