“I remember when my father and my brother built a house”

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A story told by Agrippino Todaro

italian_version6433_north_218x_transparent-b2I remember at that time I was still small. always I accompanied my family in farm work. The land that we were cultivating was a bit far from the village, there was some way to go and you could not go back every day for the long journey. So it was that one time, my father made the decision that was made a dwelling place. We could have stayed there all week and even longer if necessary.
He was chosen a point, in the midst of the land that was slope. The hill protected from the cold north wind. After that, it started with my older brother to bring so many stones, collected in the surrounding area. Large and small, all were helpful and also freed the land for work with the plow.
They have gathered together and, when judged that there were enough, went to pick up a different type of stones. It was the gypsum ore, you could be found in a district which is also in the territory of Mineo. After being brought close to where you had to build the house, the plaster stones were put in a small furnace which meanwhile was built on the spot. Cooking the ore, could be drawn in chalk by mixing and thus have good solid walls.
Finally, the construction could begin. They worked to dig a flat area, as big as a measure of how the whole house when completed. Then choosing the stones one at a time, the have arranged so as to form the perimeter walls, together with the gypsum. It would have been achieved only one room, but big enough for everyone. Complete with a fireplace, the chimney had been done with a broken urn, arranged to protect the hole above for when it was raining heavily. The door of the house had to look o menzujornu, that is to the south, with the hill behind. During the weeks that were necessary to build the house, in the evening we all went to sleep in a cave that was nearby.
When it came time to do the roof, my father took many bundles of reeds that he had taken from another place nearby where there was a river. He had also brought my brother a few small trees from the forest, to make some beam supporting the barrels. The beams then woven reeds and tied were put. Finally, they poggiarono the shingles, which was the only part of all that was necessary to buy that house.
Once it was over, inside it was fine. The fire quickly warmed the environment while you cook dinner on tannura. Arieggiava the roof, due to cracks in the reeds, but the rain did not pass and kept us dry beautiful.
For so long, the house built by my father and my brother gave us shelter, a place to sleep and where to prepare food every day, when finished the job after sunset. No longer it exists, it has disappeared all trace and nobody knows where he was.
But perhaps, I’m thinking if it was all a dream …?

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