Hospitality is to open the door the stranger and stranger is anyone at the first meeting because at birth we are all foreigners and those who depend on meetings in this world if you feel at home or not. Hospitality is not to hear a guest who is welcomed. It is to give an opportunity for rest and a table ready for those coming. Important is to introduce the newcomer to the community, so that you feel at home. In my opinion the most beautiful gesture of hospitality is embracing and kissing deeply and honestly.
When a foreigner comes home the first thing is to provide water. You never know where it came from and who made the trip, so you just bring water, prepare the bath for a shower and cook while the host rests a bit '. At home there's often a lot of foreign people: while my children greet them, show them the house and carry the suitcases in the guest room, I prepare the bath and kitchen. Once I saw two foreigners wandering the main street of the village, was late at night and did not know where to go. I realized that I needed hospitality. When they stopped under the big mango tree behind my house, I've greeted them and asked them if everything was fine. The man told me that they came from another village, because the bus made very late and did not know where to sleep. So I accompanied them to my house and I started the ritual of hospitality.
During a long trip that I made years ago, the machine has stopped suddenly. Something broke in the engine has run and we found ourselves in a deserted street at night. What to do? One of us stayed in the car waiting for someone to pass, others walk on foot in search of a village. Once in a small village of thatched houses, as there are many in my region in Guinea Konakri, we knocked and asked for help. We have now opened the doors of the house, we heard and did eat, then one of them came with us to try to fix the car. That night we slept in their house because there's always room for guests. This is the African hospitality, the most natural and best for us. But if you stop the car here in a deserted street at night is very difficult going to end like this, or have the phone or you are fried!
I'll tell you an old memory of hospitality. It was Saturday and I walked with my father and my brothers back from church. My father suddenly change direction and tells us that we were a surprise to her aunt. The road walk was long and I wanted Dad to take me in his arms, and so my brothers. Arriviamo tutti in braccio a papà in questa casa dove c'era un grande tavolo all'aperto e tutta la famiglia a cucinare in festa. Quando ci vedono la festa si fa più grande, ci abbracciano e ci fanno sedere. Mangiare e giocare con i miei cugini in questa grande casa nuova ma familiare è stato uno dei momenti più felici per me.
Un'ospitalità che non m'aspettavo me l'ha offerta un poliziotto a Termini. Erano per me I primi giorni in Italia e non capivo niente di niente. Un uomo esce dalla macchina della polizia e mi chiede chi sono e i documenti. Io prima non riesco a rispondere niente, poi provo a dire qualcosa in francese. Vengo dal Togo, non ho ancora documenti. Il poliziotto mi chiede con pazienza se ho fatto domanda di asilo the police station and say no, where is the police? The policeman told me to go to the Center Astalli to eat and get information. Fine, but where is the center Astalli? While this conversation we can not pass a woman from Cameroon and the policeman stops her. She helps us to understand each other and the cop asks if he can accompany me to the Centro Astalli. This woman is a perfect stranger, a passer, but he says yes and he takes me all day where you need it, then say hello to me. So my story begins in Italy, with a superlative gesture.
The most beautiful gesture of hospitality was a Sunday when we went to eat the homemade lasagna from my grandmother. She prepared the dough onto a large wooden table and his arms were very strong and experienced. The sauce was on fire early in the morning, before lunch and I just walked into her kitchen to fry two chips as an appetizer. For me there was no need to wait for others, just ate quietly. My grandfather and my mom set the table, everyone had his place and I was at the head. When everything was ready we went to eat on the terrace, but my grandmother was back and forth and sat down until everyone in the family had eaten their fill. We were always so many visitors arrived at the last minute and there was food for all.
I experienced something similar the first time I entered a house occupied refugees from Sudan, Ethiopia and Eritrea to Rome. It was quite dark, waiting for someone to accompany us on the street. Inside, a thousand candles show us the way, an African music is heard from upstairs and there was a good smell of cooking in the rooms. We enter a room and got a table with small paper tablecloths and cushions placed on the ground at the foot of the beds with white sheets washed and ironed. Everything smells. The chefs offer us food and drink, go around and check us we're good. Nobody is in a hurry, everything is calm. We stay there the whole day. There I learned is to accept that those who believe to receive. Among the difficulties may be the largest hospitality. They always say THANK YOU.
I felt accepted when I went home to my aunt. She always had time for me and made me sit on a soft carpet made of goose feathers, like a thin mattress. There were pillows for sitting back and so we talked for hours drinking tea. Look no further. When I spoke, she looked at me straight in the eye.
in Ethiopia is a bit like in Afghanistan, when guests arrive they will sit down on a carpet in large rooms, usually one for men and for women. All take off their shoes, wash their feet and sit back. The youngest of the group, men and women, think to prepare and serve the tea with something to eat. In the room there are cushions to rest your arms while talking and drinking concomitantly. We spend whole afternoons so often chew ghat. The ghat is a plant that has many forms, may be tiny, long and strong or bitter to the frame. She gets a little bit and put you on the cheek, then slowly juice that comes out. It gives heat and the fatigue passes. It is used in Ethiopia, Somalia, Kenya, Somalia they go crazy, even though it is difficult to find, like the Somali stay all day to suck ghat and do not move even if you go with their girlfriends! From the time we hung out with the guests on the carpets, tea, shisha and the ghat is beautiful, you know when you start but you never know when it ends.
A friend of mine who likes to chew ghat told me Host a funny story: a German tourist was in Addis Ababa for the New Year and the next night sees light up the city like never before. The day after New Year's Day is our revolution, one of the biggest holidays of the year, but he did not know. So my friend asked what was going on because all these lights and fairy lights everywhere together in homes and roads (it's a really good show) and she says jokingly, "well, we celebrate that we came to power" but he takes it seriously! She continues to joke and asked him to do something traditional, they enter a room and start to chew ghat. Seven days I stayed in. senza uscire mai. Chi l'ha visto uscire dopo una settimana è morto dal ridere, il turista era tutto rosso e con gli occhi a palla! Ironia dell'ospitalità interculturale.
Da noi c'è un proverbio che dice: se è vero che gli ospiti non sono tutti uguali, è ancora più vero che per il padrone di casa sono tutti uguali. Io lo vedo qui che noi stranieri siamo molto diversi, vivere insieme a volte è molto difficile, ma vedo pure che per gli italiani padroni di casa siamo tutti uguali.
La parola ospitalità è al femminile e il più bel gesto di ospitalità l'ho ricevuto da una donna. Ero a Firenze a una festa, conosciamo due ragazze belghe incantevoli. Ci parliamo e balliamo together all evening. The festival ends with a kiss between me and one of these wonderful girls. The next day she is going to leave and invited me in Belgium. I buy a ticket and go. She is home to a house where he lives with his friends, and prepare a meatloaf dinner with wine, and we know we speak quietly in a nice warm. She is home in his room and his bed (and I think: Wow, it's time for sex! But no, because then I could see ...), then leads me into the forest to meet his family. His mother was a lovely lady dressed in purple and big with small round glasses, he lived on the border between Belgium and Holland in a place a little 'boasted Dutch flags, a bit' Belgian and you know just being in the middle a forest fragrant with a radiant girl nearby. Mom was an expert cook and eat while we make rivers flow tells us about his long life giving stories and important details to a stranger like me. After the woods we say goodbye and I go home thinking about my last "I'm lucky."
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