My Scuola di Lingua Experience (Part 1)

     These past months, I have been going to an Italian language class at the local library or Bibliotica as we call it . Last Sunday, we've just had our festa to end the class. After eating at a local Indian pizzeria, we finally said our arrivedercis and went on our own ways. I am supposed to feel happy that finally we've graduated but I felt like I lost a very big part of me. This parting is one of the most stressful events I've ever experienced during my stay here in Italy. Call me cheesy because I can get really really cheesy during times like these:

     I was hesitant at first when my mom asked me to register to a free language class offered by the comune. I said I can just study by myself (which is a very bad idea). When my mom finally convinced me, we went to register at the Ufficio per Centro Stranieri . The Italian government is very kind enough to sponsor lots of programs for the stranieri which can help clandestines obtain their Permesso di Soggiornos (Permit of Stay) or to help foreigners who have Permessos but just want to learn the language. I can say I am so fortunate to be a straniera in this beautiful country. We had a quick test to determine what level should I be. I was placed on the A2 class which is a step higher from the basic class.


     The class started during the middle of April. I entered cheerfully in the half-filled room located at the back of the library. Together with a Maroccino couple, we've greeted our teacher. Our teacher is a beautiful woman in her mid thirtees. She is very kind and greeted us back. Her name is Silvia Sola but I always associate her family name to the word sole  which means sun. She asked me to sit beside Mustapha, a gentleman from Marocco. We talked about our lesson for the day. I can remember the first joke he said (which I am stupid enough to believe) that he loves eating rats. Our first lesson was basically about ourselves, where we live, where are we from etc. I always ask the question 'Come si scrivi' which means, 'How do I write'. After two hours we said our farewells and went home.

Silvia, our beloved maestra.

A view of our classroom. It is comfortable enough with a clean bathroom and nice lights.

   The next Thursday, I went to school early and there I met this pretty Indian girl named Manjit. Manjit knows my mom. She always buy materials for her sewing in mom's little shop. She wears this beautiful sari that she herself made. She also makes dresses for her nephews and other members of the Indian community in our town. Tuesdays and Thursdays pass by and I got to know more about using proper tenses, right pronunciation, and correct and polite ways of saying sentences.

Manjit and Gazalla

     The time for learning Italian can also be a time for learning each other's culture. I've met these muscular men from India(specifically from Punjab) whose names I can't pronounce until now (thank God they have English names). One of them is Kulwinder (Cool as I call him) whose English name is Ricky. There is also Arjit, Ranjit, Pavinder, Goldy(English name) and more. They are all very friendly and ready to help me with my crooked Italian. I have also known that almost all of them have the family name Singh and that Manjit's husband is also named Manjit.  I've met some of Manjit's family which is made out of big, muscular men almost ready to defend India by hand in case of war. My maestra and I were lucky enough to celebrate with them during their Sikh festival ( as I have posted here 2 months ago). We've participated  in their holy parade and we are the only foreigners in there. You can read more about our experiences there in my post http://23kilimanjaro.blogspot.it/2013/04/ciao-i-habd-this-wonderful-chance-to.html. We entered the Sikh church(which is opposite a Jehova's Witness office) and we were met by loud chanting and food and more food. We were offered generous amounts of tsapatis, fruits and other Indian vegetarian cuisines. I went home and brought some left over food and they asked me, "You went to the grocery?"

Arjit and Ricky

The parade during the Sikh celebration.

    Aside from my Punjabi friends, there are also these ladies and gentlemen from Africa. This guy Eric is from Nigeria and the others are all from Morocco. The Maroccinos speak 'sexy' Italian. Their tongues are honed to speak French and they pronounce 't' like an American speaking his first Tagalog words. The men have this signature curly dark brown to black hair and long eyebrows. The women have fair skin and always wear their elegant abayas (correct me if I am wrong). It took them a long time to remember my name and during those times they call me la Filippina or they tease me and call me Cinese. Many of the men work in factories as welders or mechanics. Messaud Ezzanfari (Ezzan as I call him) is a good father of two kids, Toufik (who looks like the comedian Ficcara in Striscia la Notizia) is a groovy, social and fun guy but can be very serious too. He is married but without kids and her wife is in Morocco. Said is a very quiet person (at first) but talks a lot after you strike a conversation with him. He is above 30 but still not married (which is strange). There is Abderahim with his beautiful pregnant wife Atnan. I am not sure if I spelled their names right (peace!). There is Tarek, I've already told you about Mustapha and Hayat who often comes with her lovely 5-6 year old daughter.

(l to r) Said, Ranjit, Vladimir, Silvia, husband of Gazalla, Eric, Manjit, Parimala, Gazalla

     Apart from my Indian and Maroccino amici, there are also the Pakistanis. There is the strikingly beautiful Sahar who has three cute little boys. She looks a little like my cousin back in the Philippines. There is the very kind Gazalla and her husband who is very industrious enough to raise 6 kids who are all going to school.

      Aside from fellows from India, Morocco and Pakistan, there is also Shpettim from Albania, Vladimir from Moldavia, and Parimala from Sri Lanka. Parimala is a woman in her early thirties with a husband who've just arrived in the country. She is easy to get along with and laughs always. She speaks Italian well and speaks English too.

    During our classes, we talked about ourselves. Silvia let us memorize the ways of introducing ourselves, where are we from, how are our jobs, how's the climate of our country etc. Mine is like:

     Io sono Kizel. I ho 2_ anni. Vengo dalle Filippine. Sono qua in Italia da 10 mesi. etc....

     During these times, we have learned a lot from each other. We've known about each other's families, hobbies, works etc. We had informal geography classes, culinary classes, Pakistani language classes and other stuff that took us away from the typical language class lectures. Each class, we became better in speaking the language and it also brought us closer.

Biryani, a Pakistani dish cooked by Sahar

     The last class happened on a Saturday. I am so sad knowing that that was our final meeting. We extended our class for up to 4 hours. We spent it on finalizing the things we should do or say during the examination which will be on the 29th of June. Just when I thought it's all over, Silvia is kind (very kind) enough to volunteer to meet us from Monday to Friday at 18:00 until the time we want to go home. I suddenly felt alive.We have one week more!