words Saviano a living witness to the difficult period my land!
not close our eyes!!
not forget!
POINT GOMORRAH
Those responsible have names. They have faces. They even have a soul. Or maybe not. Joseph Brisson, Alessandro Cirillo, Oreste Spagnuolo, Giovanni Letizia, Emilio Catherine, Peter Vargas are waging a violent military strategy. They are authorized by the fugitive boss Michele Zagaria and hide around Lago Patria. Among them will feel lonely fighters, warriors who are trying to get back at all, avenging last one of the most vicious and unfortunate lands of Europe. If the recount case.
But Joseph Brisson, Alessandro Cirillo, Oreste Spagnuolo, Giovanni Letizia, Emilio di Caterino and Peter Vargas are cowards, actually: killers without any kind of military skill. To kill indiscriminately empty cartridge for loading to strafanno of cocaine and swell of Fernet Branca and vodka. They shot unarmed people, suddenly seized or taken from behind. They never compared with other armed men. Faced with this tremendous, and yet you feel strong and safe by killing unarmed, often elderly or young children. Deceiving them and taking them behind.
And I wonder, in your land, our land are now many months that a handful of killer hovers above undisturbed massacring innocent people. Five, six, always the same. How is it possible? I wonder, but this land as we see, as it represents itself, as we imagine? How are you you imagine your earth, your country? How do you feel when you go to work, walking, making love? We put the problem, or you just say, 'it is always been and always will be so '?
there really enough to believe that anything that happens depends on your commitment or your indignation? That after all have something to live so we should live their daily lives and nothing else. There are enough answers to make this go on? You just say 'do not do anything wrong, they are an honest person' to make you feel innocent? Let them pass the news on the skin and soul. So it always has been, or not? Or delegate to associations, church activists, journalists and others to denounce makes you worry? A calm that makes you go to bed happy, but maybe not in peace? There really is enough? This
focus group has killed mostly innocent. In any other country in the freedom of action of such a bunch of murderers would have generated debates and political battles, reflections. But here it is only crimes inherent to an area considered one of the provinces of Italy asshole. And then the investigators, the police and police officers, the four reporters who follow the events, they are alone. Even those in the rest of the country reads a newspaper knows that these killers are always using the same strategy: pretend to be policemen. They have a flashing blade, or the DIA said they had to do a check of documents. Employing a two-penny trick to kill more easily. And they live like animals: buffalo between farms, suburban houses, garage.
They killed sixteen people. The massacre began on May 2 at about six o'clock in the morning in a buffalo farm gate to Arnold. Kill the father of Domenico Bidognetti sorry, cousin and former loyalist Cicciotto and 'midnight.
Umberto Bidognetti was 69 years old and in general was also accompanied by the son of Mimi, who just that morning he could not pull himself out of bed to help his grandfather. On May 15, killing at Green Bay, a hamlet of Castel Volturno, the sixty-five Domenico Noviello, owner of a driving school. Domenico Noviello was opposed to the racket eight years earlier. He had been under guard, but then the protection cycle was over. He could not be targeted, not expected. The discharge on 20 shots while his Panda is going to make a stop at the bar before opening the driving school. His execution was also a message to the police that he was about to celebrate his own festival in Casal di Principe, three days later, and even more of a clear statement: it can go almost a decade but do not forget the Casalesi.
Before that, May 13, with a fire destroyed the mattress factory of Peter Russell in Santa Maria Capua Vetere. It is the only one of their targets to have an escort. Why was the only one with Tano Grasso, tried to organize a united front against the racket on the ground Casale. Then, on May 30, to strike the belly Villaricca Francesca Carrino, a girl, twenty-five year-old nephew of Anna Carrino, the former wife of Francesco Bidognetti, sorry. He was at home with his mother and grandmother, but she had been to open the door to the killer that is claiming to be agents of Dia.
not pass even a day in Casal di Principe, and after lunch is to go to the 'Roxy bar', kill Michele Orsi, a businessman waste close to the clan who was arrested the year before, had begun to cooperate with the judiciary revealing the intrigues waste-political mafia. It is a murder that makes excellent stir, raise controversies, raise your voice does to representatives of the State. But it does not stop the killer.
July 11, killing at Lido 'The Flourishing' to Varcaturo Raffaele Granata, 70, manager of the bathhouse and the father of the mayor of Calverley. He also pays for the first year have not yielded to the will of the clan. On August 4 massacre in Castel Volturno Ziber Dani Kazan and Arthur were sitting on the terrace of the 'Bar Kuban', and probably Ramis Doda August 21, twenty-five years before the 'Bar Freedom' San Marcellino. The victims were Albanians who rounded up the shop, but were allowed to stay and work on construction sites as masons and painters.
Then on Aug. 18 opened fire indiscriminately against the house of Teddy Egonwman, president of Nigerians in Campania, which has been fighting for years against the prostitution of his own people, wounding seriously he, his wife Alice and three other friends. They return to San Marcellino
September 12 to kill and Ernesto Antonio Ciardullo Fabozzi, killed while they were doing maintenance on truck transport firm which was the first holder. Although he had not obeyed, and those who stood by was killed because he witnessed.
Finally, on September 18, the first jig Celiento Antonio, owner of an amusement arcade in Green Bay, and a quarter of an hour after opening a fire of 130 rounds of Kalashnikov guns and against the Africans gathered in front of the workshop and 'Ob Ob Exotic Fashion 'of Castel Volturno. Die Samuel Kwaku, 26, and Alaj Ababa, Togo, Christopher Adams and Alex Geemes, 28, Liberians; Kwame Julius Francis, 31, and Eric Yeboah, 25, Ghanaian, and is hospitalized with serious injuries Ayimbora Joseph, 34, also from Ghana. Only one or perhaps two of them had to do with drugs, others were there by chance, worked hard on building sites or where it happened, and also in tailoring.
Sixteen victims in less than six months. Any democratic country with such a situation would have faltered. Here, despite everything, he's not even mentioned. Neither was aware from Rome on this trail of blood and terror of this, who does not speak Arabic, which has five-pointed stars, but controls and rules without enforcement.
They kill anyone who opposes. They kill anyone who happens under fire, without regard for anyone. The list of dead could be longer, much longer. And for all these months, no one informed the public that turned this 'fishing boat fire'. Mediterranean fish, like the boats that go out to fish in the high seas. No one has revealed the names until they have made slaughter in Castel Volturno. But
are always the same, always use the same weapons, even if they try to adjust them to mislead the scientific, a sign that they have few available. Do not come in contact with families, are strictly between them. Every time someone sees them in the bars of some paesone, where they stop to take in alcohol. And six months nobody can catch them.
Castel Volturno, a territory where most of the killings occurred, is not any place. It is not a slum, a ghetto for outcasts and exploited as if they can also be found elsewhere, even if now some of his areas of Africa that are more like the hometown to the place of seaside tourism for which its houses were built. Castel Volturno is where the Coppola built the largest citadel of unfair world, the famous Village Coppola.
Ottocentosessantatremila area occupied with concrete. Who illegally took the place of one of the largest pine forests in the Mediterranean Sea. Abuse the hospital, the police station abusive, illegal items. All abusive. We went to live the families of the NATO soldiers. When they left, the area fell more than total abandonment and became a fief by Francesco Bidognetti all at the same time the territory of the Nigerian mafia.
The Nigerians have a powerful Mafia with whom the defendant to Casalesi, their country has become a hub in the international trafficking of cocaine and Nigerian organizations are powerful, able to invest primarily in money transfer, the points through which all World immigrants send money home. Through these, the Nigerian money and control people. Castel Volturno African direct cocaine transit, especially in England. The congestion charges so that the clan forces are not only the lace on the retail store, but agreements on a sort of joint venture. Now, however, Nigerians are powerful, powerful. So is the Albanian mafia, by which the Casalesi are in business.
And the clan is gaping, fear of not being recognized as one who commands the first and last in the area. And here are creeping in the indentations of men fishing boat. Albanians kill small fish such as demonstration projects, are the slaughter of Africans - and among these none is from Nigeria - strike the last links of the chain of criminal and ethnic hierarchies. Honest guys die, but as always, in this land, there must be a reason to die. It does not take much to be vilified.
The African children were killed immediately all 'dealers' as they were 'Camorra' Reversal Giuseppe and Vincenzo Natale, killed in Villa Literno September 23, 2003 because they had stopped to get a beer near Frank Gallop, a member of the clan Bidognetti. They too were soon baptized as criminals.
is not the first time that takes place in those parts a massacre of immigrants. In 1990, Augusto La Torre, boss of Mondragone, left with his loyalists at a time of a bar which, although run by Italians, had become a meeting point for the trafficking of Africans. All took place along the highway always Domitiana in Pescopagano, a few miles north of Castel Volturno, but already in the territory mondragonese. They killed six people, including the operator, and wounded many others. That, too, was the culmination of a series of actions against foreigners, but also approved Casalesi that the intimidation did not like the massacre. The tower had to collect heavy criticism by Francesco 'Sandokan' Schiavone. But now times have changed and allow the exercise of indiscriminate violence to allow a group of armed cocaine.
I call back to my land that has self-image. I ask this in all those groups of men and women who work here in the great silence and are committed. In those few politicians who manage to remain credible, resisting the temptations of collusion or of the withdrawal of combat power of the clan. A all those who are doing their job, to all those who seek to live honestly, as in any other part of the world. To all these people. Which are more and more, but they are increasingly alone.
How do you imagine this land? If it is true, as said by Danilo Dolci, which grows only if each is a dream, you dream about these places as them there? There's never been so much focus on your lands and all that has happened and will happen. Yet it seems to have changed much. The two bosses who rule continue to operate and to be free. Antonio Iovine and Michele Zagaria. Twelve years on the run. Even they know where they are. The first is in San Cipriano d'Aversa, the second Casapesenna. In an area the size of a piece of land, may not be able to find them?
ancient history is that of the wanted fugitives in the world and then found their own home. But it is new story that I have now spoken over and over newspapers and television, that politicians of all stripes have promised that they will stop. Meanwhile time passes and nothing happens. And are there. Walk, talk, meet people.
I saw that in my country have appeared written against me. Saviano shit. Saviano worm. And a huge coffin with my name. And then insults, constant denigration from the most common and banal: 'What has been done the money'. With my job as a writer and now I live, Fortunately, pay for my lawyers. What about them? That control their business empires and are building houses pharaonic in countries where there are not even paved roads?
them and for the disposal of toxic wastes are managed in a single operation to collect up to 500 million euro and have padded our land of poison to the point of pushing up to 24% certain cancers, congenital malformations and up 84% percent? Real money they generate, according to the Observatory epidemiological Campania, an average of 7172.5 cancer deaths a year in Campania. And to get rich on the misfortunes of this land would be me with my words, or the police and prosecutors, reporters and all others with books or movies or any other so continue to report? How can you create such a reversal of perspectives? How is it possible that even honest people to join this chorus? Although I know my ground in front of all this I am still in disbelief and shock and hurt to the point that even I struggle to find my voice. Why
leads to mute the pain, because the hostility leads to not know who to talk to. So who should I talk to, what I say? How do I say to my country to stop being crushed between the arrogance of the strong and the cowardice of the weak? Today here in this room where the guest of those who protect me, is my birthday. I think of all the birthdays in the past as well, since I cover, a bit 'nervous, a bit' sad and above only.
I think I can never pass a normal part of my land, that I will never set foot. I regret as a sick man without hope all birthdays neglected, snubbed because it's just any date, and another year there will be an equal. It has now opened a chasm in time and space, a wound that will never heal. And I think as well, and especially those who live in my own condition and did not like me the privilege to write and speak to many.
I think some other friends in the Commons, Raffaele, Rosa, Lirio, Tano, I think of Carmelina, the teacher of Mondragone who had denounced the killer of a Camorra and has since lived under police protection, far away, alone. Left by her boyfriend who was to marry, judged by the friends who feel oppressed by their courage and their mediocrity. Because there was no sympathy for his gesture, indeed, there has been criticism and abandonment. She has just followed a call of his conscience and had to get by with the meager salary that gives the state. What did
Carmelina, what did others like her to have life uprooted and destroyed, while the boss at large continue to be able to live protected and respected in their lands? And I call on my land, what we have left? Tell me. Float? Pretend nothing happened? Trampling scales hospitals cleaned by cleaning cooperatives them to receive the fuel in the tanks pulled from their petrol stations? Live in houses built by them, drinking coffee brand from their sets (each brand of coffee to be sold in bars must have permission of the clan), cooking in their pots (the clan Tablet managed production and sale of top brands pots)?
eat their bread, their cheese, their vegetables? They can vote for politicians who, like the repentant state, you get to the highest national? Working in their shopping malls, built to create jobs and due subjection to the workplace, but in the meantime there is no loss, because most of the shops are they? You proud to live in the territory with the largest malls in the world and with one of the highest rates of poverty? Spend time on the premises managed or approved by them? Sit at the bar near their children, the children of their lawyers, their white-collar? And find them cute and innocent, all in all nice people, because they are basically just guys who are guilty of their fathers.
In fact it is not apportioning blame, but to stop accepting and always be, stop thinking that at least there is order, that at least there is work, and that you do not scratch, do not lift the veil, to continue to go their own way. They just do this and in our land has already in the best of all possible worlds, or maybe not, but certainly in the only possible world.
How much more should we expect? As yet we see the best and resigned to emigrate to stay? Are you really sure that is fine? That the evenings you spend in court, laughing, arguing, cursing the stench of waste heat, to chat, be enough? You want a simple life, plain, made of small things, while all around you there is a real war, while those who undergo a complaint and talk and lose everything. How did we become so blind? So subservient and resigned, so bent? How is it that only the last of the last, the African Castel Volturno who suffer from exploitation and violence of the Italian mafia and other Africans have been able to pull out once more anger than fear and resignation? I can not believe that South is so rich in talent and strength can only truly be satisfied with that.
Calabria has the lowest GDP of Italy but 'something new', that is? Ndrangheta, invoice and more as a whole Italian financial maneuver. Alitalia is in crisis, but Grazzanise, in a territory marked by the Camorra, is to build the largest Italian airport, the largest in the Mediterranean. A land to pay enormous amounts of money to circulate without a shred of real development, and instead of money, profit, cement which has the flavor of the looting, not growth.
I can not believe are able to withstand only a few exceptional individuals. That complaint is now the only task of a few individuals, priests, teachers, doctors, the few honest politicians and groups that play the role of civil society. And the rest? The others are good and quiet, stunned by fear? Fear. The more excuses. It feels all right because it is in his name that they defend the family, loved ones, their innocent lives, their sacred right to live and build it.
But no longer afraid it would not be difficult. It would be enough to act, but not by yourself. The fear goes hand in hand with isolation. Every time someone pull back creates more fear, that creates even more fear in an exponential growth that immobilizes, eroding, slowly ruining.
'You can build the happiness of the world on the shoulders of one abused child?', Asks Ivan Karamazov to his brother Aljo? A. But you do not want a perfect world, you just want a quiet and simple life, an everyday acceptable, the warmth of a family. Be content to think that this puts you away from anxieties and pain. And maybe you can, can you find a dimension where you will find serenity. But at what price?
If your children were born sick or ill, if you should again turn to a politician in exchange for a vote will give you a job without which even your little dreams and projects end up in the air, when we will struggle to get a mortgage on your home while the directors of the banks themselves will always be available to those in power, when you see this maybe you will realize that there is no shelter, that there is no protected area, and the attitude that you think realistically and wisely disenchanted has polluted the soul of resentment and bitterness that takes away any taste to your life.
Because if this is the sad thing is even more sad is the habit. Getting used that there is nothing else to do but to resign, or make do go away. I call upon my land if I can still imagine to choose from. I ask if you can at least make that first gesture of freedom lies in being able to think differently, to think freely. Do not resign to accept as a natural destiny what is the work of men.
Those men can tear you to your land and your past, take away the serenity, to finding a home, write insults on the walls of your country, can make the desert around you. But they can not eradicate what remains a certainty and, therefore, also remains a hope. That is not right, it is not natural at all, to a territory subject to the rule of violence and exploitation, without limits. And that should not go on like this for so always has been. Although it is not true that everything is always the same, but it's getting worse.
Why the devastation grows in proportion with their business, because it is irreversible as the plague-stricken land once and for all, because no limits. Because out there are around six killer brutalized and stoned, with a license to kill and do not mandate, that does not stop in front of anyone. Because they are the image and likeness of that which prevails today in this land and what awaits them tomorrow, tomorrow, in the future. We must find the strength to change. Now or never.
Copyright 2008 by Roberto Saviano
Published by arrangement
of Roberto Santachiara Literary Agency
( September 22, 2008)
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