COSTANTINO

“Andiamo (let’s go) Costantino,” Martolini said and extended both his hands to help me get up. When he saw that I couldn’t walk, he lifted me up immediately. That moment a thought raced quickly through my mind. Why was Martolini taking me with him? However, I wasn’t scared at all. As I was on his arms and saw him close up, I felt a sense of security.

I remember that he took me to a room with many showers. He laid me down on a wooden bench and helped me take off my dirty and ragged clothes. My body was full of red sores as a result of bites from lice and ticks. He turned on the warm water, gave me a bar of soap, took another one himself and together with a sponge he helped me wash. Martolini was laughing and humming a tune.

“Costantino, bello Costantino,” he was saying again and again.

When the washing was over, he wiped me dry with a towel, wrapped another larger one around me, picked me up in his arms and carried me to a room with two beds covered with white sheets. I looked around me puzzled. It was the first time in my life somebody treated me with so much kindness.

Martolini sat on the bed next to me and talked to me while holding my hands. After a while, the door opened and the tall man with the white gown came in. He took a chair and sat next to me. A male nurse held my wrist. Martolini stood up on the other side of the bed serious and silent. I looked at him as I lay in bed. He also had his eyes nailed on me. He smiled and winked at me.

That moment I felt the prick of an injection but I didn’t move my eyes off him. Suddenly, Martolini’s image became blurred. Slowly everything else around me blurred until I finally sank into darkness.

When I opened my eyes, the first man I saw near me was Martolini. He was sitting on a chair next to my bed. When he saw that I woke up, he put his hand on my forehead, stroked my hair, smiled and quickly went out.

He returned shortly with the nurse who put a thermometer under my armpit. He spoke calmly in a language I didn’t understand, but which sounded so pleasant. Martolini went out of the room again to come back a little later holding a tray of food. He smiled, handed the tray to the nurse and afterwards bent down, kissed my forehead and helped me sit up on the bed. Then he placed the tray in front of me. It had a deep bowl of hot soup and a piece of bread. Immediately I started eating gluttonously. He stood beside me and looked over me with kindness.

When I emptied my bowl, he said, laughing: “Bravo Costantino, bravo.” Then he took the tray, helped me lay back again and left humming a song. “Ciao Costantino, ciao bello” he said before closing the door behind him.

I remained looking at the closed door. I saw the nurse who was still there and everything seemed so strange to me. I turned to him and told him in Greek: “Thank you, thank you very much for everything.”

He smiled, touched my forehead and slipped the thermometer under my armpit again. He frowned when he saw my temperature. I must have high fever, I thought. The nurse stood up, shook my hand in a friendly manner and left the room. When I was alone, I was immersed in my thoughts again. Suddenly I remembered my hurt leg, put my hand on my knee, which was wrapped all around. I tried to bend it but the bandages wouldn’t allow it to bend. I felt pain, only this time it was more bearable. I started thinking: What will happen to my leg? Will it be cured? Will I be able to run and play with the other children again?

A little while before noon, Martolini returned once more with a tray. I looked at him carefully. I wanted to compare him to my father. “Nah,” I said, “how is it possible for me to compare them, since I can’t even remember my father.” While I was eating, Martolini sat on a chair beside me and tried to explain and teach me words. He showed me his hand “Questa si quiama mano” (this is called hand). Then he showed me the spoon I was eating with “Questo si quiama cucchiaio, tu si quiama Costantino,” and he showed me laughing with all his heart. Every time I repeated the word in Italian, he would get excited as if I had accomplished a great achievement. “Bravo Costantino, bravo,” he would shout loudly.