Lecce, Italy – 1st of May, 2016: A orthodox priest blesses the faithful during the Orthodox Eastern celebrations at the church of San Niccolò dei Greci, in the Apulian city of Lecce.
Like every year, people all across the Mediterranean sea embarked upon harvesting olives, as it has been for more than 7,000 years. Among the hills of the Valle d’Itria, in south Italy, most families have their own olives and pick them around November, before they fall off the branches. Usually by time people get around to do it, summer is long gone, turning the harvest in a cold race against the coming rain.
In South Italy one understands the summer is coming to an end when people begin to talk about the “sugars”, referring to the sugar content of their grapes. When the “sugars” are right, it is time to embark on the yearly ritual of the grape harvest, which in Puglia means enlisting your friends and family for a few days of work and drinking on what might as well be the last hot days of the year.
Nel provare a raccontare la catastrofe ambientale di Taranto, le cui proporzioni sfidano l’immaginazione, ci si trova molto spesso a parlare di fin dove arriva, questa catastrofe.
E’ una calda serata di giugno, e mi trovo in una piazzetta nel rione Tamburi di Taranto con un gruppo di donne dell’associazione ambientalista Altamarea. La piazza risuona delle grida dei bambini che giocano, mentre le loro madri chiacchierano sulle panchine.