My dark cave – Share the right story

I start my journey by drawing a map: I’m quite bad in orienteering, thus I think it can help me in case I get lost (so true!). Here is the main building, the hill of the bell, the threshold.

If in the surroundings of Slunakov there’s only one main road, I want to have a walk in the deep forest indeed. So after a small bridge I take the first path on the right and I keep going in that direction.

Not even the time to start that I see Miss Fox crossing a meadow, no further than 10 meters from me: lucky day!, I think, let’s see what comes tonight.

Many sounds reveal that the forest is a living being, but to a curve I hear human voices: two guys, partially hidden by the bushes, are fishing.

The vegetation is dense and I almost can’t see anything else but a red line behind the horizon reveals all the beauty of a late sunset in the countryside. On the right a narrow path leads me to a magical fence; it has to be magical because it’s in the middle of nowhere with apparently no reason to exist. I cross it but apparently I am still in the same dimension.

The bells of a church remind me that the time is flowing, but also that I have cold to my ears and I have to choose if I want to cover them and to reduce my hearing sensitivity or definitely freeze them. I will continue covering and uncovering all the time.

Suddenly it’s night. And I mean, real night: I cannot see anything and I have to switch the torch on for the first time. Now everything is different, I’m surprised and scared. I’m straight back to five years old kid almost panicking because of darkness and noises. Even the train surprises me, not talking about the barks of the dogs in the distance.

I find a proper shelter, probably used by children during the day, and I rest for a while. I discover myself tightening the torch and the pencil, as they could make any difference in case of danger, but still, they comfort me. I find a stick, in case the beaver attacks me, they will find me ready to fight!

With three safe sides, I risk and switch the light off. The sounds are still around but my eyes are now much better and I can distinguish the edges of the trees, the stones and the light. The light? Yeah, someone is coming from my same direction! I don’t want to reveal my position, but at the same time I don’t want to scare him. In the end I choose for giving him a Morse code signal that apparently he knows despite the fact that I have no idea of what I told him. He passes far away from me; will come back almost half an hour later, following a different path.

Fear is over. I am confident in my walking, even when I lose the way (at least three times).
Remembering the last and only time I saw a beaver -in Finland in 2010- I think how nice would be to see another one, so I walk around the streams and the small river because it is more likely that they are close to the water.
The fishermen! They were in a perfect place for sightings. I walk back (thanks map) and I wait hoping in the good luck.
I am not very patient: at every splash I light the torch and it takes time for my eyes to adapt again. The good thing is that every time a night butterfly comes to me.

In half a hour I’m cold, bored and tired. I start my way back home. I eat some raisins on the way. Whatever the ritual means, I will spot the beaver next time, but I will continue being a youth worker, with little money, but a lot of stories to tell.

Arrivederci…

Da quando sono piccola che mi piace tanto scrivere. Scrivevo tante storie ed avevo tanta immaginazione per creare dei personaggi e descrivere le loro avventure… Le idee erano piu veloci che le mie mani e finivo a scrivere dei testi che perdevanno il senso a mettà. Mi riccordo quando la mia professoressa di inglese mi ha chiamato dopo un esame e mi ha aiutato a trovare un modo di organizzare la mia mente prima di mettere le cose per scritto.

Anni dopo, è ancora difficile per me non mi perdere quando scrivo (soprattutto quando scrivo in una lingua straniera). Ed è ancora piu difficile quando non devi inventare una storia ma devi raccontare la tua. Ma come fai a raccontare un anno della tua vita? Come faccio a non scordarmi di tutte le cose belle (e meno belle) che sono successe quest’anno?

Come posso parlare di tutte le persone meravigliose che ho conosciuto? E di tutto che ho imparato con loro?

Non sono all’altezza di questa sfida, non posso provarci nemmeno.

Questo ultimo articolo della mia esperienza SVE con Eufemia non potrà essere mai un racconto, ma si un ringraziamento.

Un ringraziamento a tutti che ho trovato a Torino e che mi hanno fatto sentire accolta.
Un ringraziamento a tutti gli amici di tutti paesi in Europa che mi hanno raccontato le loro storie e ha fatto conoscere tante cose nuove.
Un ringraziamento soprattutto alla (mia famiglia) Eufemia con chi ho scoperto tanto di me stessa e del mondo.
Un ringraziamento a tutti coloro che mi fanno pensare a Torino come la mia casa sempre che ritorno.

Grazie e arrivederci!

Ana Rita Martins Pereira