This story was written and contributed by Carmela Corallo and Carlo Corallo, Giovanni and Mafalda’s two children.

My story is really the story of my dad, Giovanni Corallo- born in June 1912, on the feast of San Giovanni Battista, in Ragusa, whose patron saint is in fact San Giovanni Battista. He was the 6th child of Carmelo and Carmela Corallo. Sadly, his mum passed away when he was three months old and his dad re-married and 8 more children were born.

My grandfather was a wealthy landowner with many connections, including Pennavario. However, due to a turn in events the family left Ragusa and went to Termine Imerese. Dad often spoke of his beloved Sicily- la Conca D’Oro. Described Cefalu’ as a place where only shepherds would go. Without saying, dad loved his 13 siblings dearly but he idolized his sister Gina who in her teens decided to leave Ragusa with her sister Vincenzina, to join a religious order “I Bocconcini dei Poveri” in Cefalu. She had always wanted to study but in those days nice girls didn’t leave home to pursue a career. Zia Gina (Suor Benedetta) became Reverend Mother at a young age and implemented major reforms in aged care. She was highly respected by all.

Dad’s happiest years were without doubt those he spent in Africa. He left his beloved Sicily as a young man in his 20’s with his brother Emanuele in 1933 to go to Asmara, where he  started a transport business which took him through the naturally beautiful African territory. In Asmara, he met my mum, Mafalda. Mum was born in Rovolon (pr Padova) and had left Italy at the age of 11 with her three brothers when her dad had taken up a job as what would be known as a boiler maker.

Asmara was a thriving city with a cosmopolitan population, entertainment, cinemas. In fact, Asmara has featured in architectural reviews as an art deco city.

‘Dad in Asmara, Feb 14 1946’, photograph by unknown.

This environment definitely shaped my parents’ lives. Neither spoke their native dialects, we didn’t follow “traditional meals” but just what they remembered. They felt at home with people of different nationalities- they certainly didn’t see “paesani”. But Dad was always proud of his Sicilian heritage. He often told us stories about I Vespri Siciliani, I Paladini di Francia and of course all the Italian Operas- based on his movie goings!! No one would have guessed that the sum total of his education was one year of private tuition as a child.

I was born in Asmara on the in 1950- and dad told me he was so happy that he kept my photo on his dashboard during his long trips across the desert.

This environment definitely shaped my parents’ lives. Neither spoke their native dialects, we didn’t follow “traditional meals” but just what they remembered. They felt at home with people of different nationalities- they certainly didn’t see “paesani”. But Dad was always proud of his Sicilian heritage. He often told us stories about I Vespri Siciliani, I Paladini di Francia and of course all the Italian Operas- based on his movie goings!! No one would have guessed that the sum total of his education was one year of private tuition as a child.

Mum, dad, zio Emanuele and I left Africa August 1952 and travelled to Melbourne, via sea, on the Toscana- the ship’s last voyage. It was a turbulent 40 days out at sea during which mum did not leave her cabin because of sea sickness, I developed bronchitis and dad was left to look after me. We arrived at Port Melbourne on the 23rd September and this is my first childhood recollection. Mainly that I was being carried from Port Melbourne – it was bitterly cold- I could see with flapping Humphrey Bogart type pants flapping in the wind. My folks had been told it was Spring in Melbourne so they had dressed accordingly

We joined my uncles Francesco (Ciccio) and Titta (Gian Battista) and shared a house in Carlton with heaps of people coming and going- compare Criscione- lots of dear friends- some Ragusani like Brugaletta. Lifelong friends.

So, mum and dad started work pretty much immediately. These were very lonely days especially for mum and she waited eagerly for her mum to join her. In 1954, nonna Emma joined us with my aunt Maria who was 11 years old, (who was born in Africa) and mum’s three brothers Umberto, Giuliano and Marcello (who was married and had a little boy Celeste).

Unfortunately, nonna died suddenly seven months later. So, our first home was in Sherwood Street Richmond- zia Maria and Zio Umberto were part of our family. Happy day when Carlo arrived on in 1956- definitely the apple of my father’s eye. He felt so lucky that he bought a Tatts ticket and actually won 11 pounds!!!

Life was a moving tapestry. Dad worked night shifts from 4 pm to 2 am -so he could care for us during the day whilst mum worked. Every evening, he would forfeit his dinner break- because he would queue up at the phone booth- so he could call us and hear our voice. Dad worked at GMH on an assembly line for 23 years with zio Giuliano and zio Umberto. Dad won a couple of “awards” for suggestions on improving production and safety- which zio Giuliano submitted on his behalf. He was so proud to work there.

Mum, despite the harsh working conditions, made life-long friends in a lingerie factory who extended into our family.

The good times? Dad’s moto: you either have a good time or work- nothing in between.

Every week-end we went to the country in winter or beach in summer. Dad was always so inclusive. By the time we picked up or waited for everyone- it was too late to go for a swim!!!!

A typical day was to pick us up from school at lunch and he would provide a cooked meal. This is when he met la Signora Podimane who then became our Italian teacher and lifelong friend, together with her husband Frank and daughters.  She was an integral part of our lives and in the development and pursuit of our love for the Italian culture.

Dad was the ultimate DYI man from cabinets to cars.  He would take us with him to buy materials so we could translate. But then he would insist on talking. Dad never did learn to speak English. Typical day: Hardware stores- embarrassing moments- insisted on measuring frames, products, even though measurements were displayed. So, if he wanted a number of pieces – he would say “peaches”. He often went to the Swan Street Auctions i.e. second-hand materials- “ziggynansa”.

However, his DYI skills did make it possible to dabble in real estate i.e. he, mum and Carlo did all the maintenance work.

We then moved to Hawthorn in 1966. We were then joined by Mrs Zehnder- a Swiss elderly lady who needed accommodation i.e. 7 people in a 2-bedroom house.

This is when we met the wonderful Armstrong family- our neighbours- Phyllis, Tom and their two sons Bruce and Graeme. Phyllis patiently, and successfully taught mum English. Mum introduced her to ricotta and olive oil. Tom and dad would send countless hours working together, neither of whom understood each other.

In the 70’s mum and dad went back to Italy or the first and only time after 40 years.

Not a religious man but one of profound faith. During a critical illness, after many weeks of induced coma, dad dreamt that San Giovanni and San Antonio called him and dragged him over a hot plate to safety. That evening dad woke up and was extubated. The next day he was singing “Parlami d’amore Mariu” with the nurse in charge, who is also Italian. To this day, medical staff have declared dad’s outcome a miracle. For the five years following this event, Dad inspired us to start and complete many projects.

Following this event, we celebrated his 80th birthday on a grand scale- at home- sit down meal for over 100 people. Definitely one of the highlights of dad’s life.

In the last years of his life, undoubtedly the arrival of his two granddaughters, Giuliana and Valeria, was the happiest time of his life.

Regrets: that of never being able to see an image of his mother; not seeing his granddaughters grow up.

Unique qualities: You could say that dad was a feminist. He strongly believed that women should be independent and aim high.

Legacy: love of people, animals, the classics, family is sacrosanct at all times.

If you had to list keywords for a search engine: Tenacity, courage, with, fatherhood.

Part 2 - by Carlo

In Eritrea, Giovanni had his own trucking fleet, 3 trucks! He continued to work privately for the few years but as War broke out, was required to service the Italian Army exclusively.

In Australia, my family initially rented a small terrace house in Grattan Street, Carllton. Right opposite Melbourne University.

Dad initially found work ‘picking carnations’ in the market gardens in Moorabbin. He later found a much less demanding and better paid job as a mechanic at Melbourne Ports.

Dad hesitated learning English as he always considered the family’s stay in Australia was temporary and everyone would one day, return to Italy.

Dad found a better job at GMH at fisherman’s Bend.

He had opportunity of referring his brothers and later his brother in laws for a job there as well.

GMH offered better pay and more overtime.

In 1954, my mother’s siblings and widowed grandmother joined the family and the family moved to a larger terrace house in Rathdowne Street, North Carlton. My Grandmother died some 7 months later, quite suddenly, and left my mother’s siblings orphaned, the youngest being 11 years old. Everyone continued to live together and my mother and father took on the parental duties as well.

My mother started at a lingerie factory in Richmond whilst my dad was continuing to push for overtime at GMH. In 1955 they bought their first house, a rambling Victorian house in Sherwood Street Richmond, big enough to accommodate everyone. All for the sum of 3200 Pounds.

The house had no heating or cooling and predominantly asbestos cladding with no insulation. Everyone at home suffered chill blisters so finally buying a ‘kerosene’ heater was considered quite a ‘luxury’!

My mother had by now, come to terms with the hostility and rudeness towards the Italian migrants and continued at a lingerie factory in Richmond, run be 2 Jewish brothers, a place she remained loyal to, for over 26 years. There she met some lifelong friends and as little children, we were amazed to listen to the amazing stories of many of my mother’s Polish and Hungarian friends, particularly on how they survived the gas chambers and how they would continue to send clothes and money to their relatives behind the Iron Curtain. To us, these stories were a bit like ‘scary stories’ only to realise later in our lives the absolute pain and suffering these people went through. Upon reflection, it is admirable how these individuals dealt with their past and just ‘got on with their new lives in the new country’!

In 1956 the family bought their first TV, all in time for the Melbourne Olympics.

Dad moved his shift to afternoon shift so that he could take care of me and my sister during the day and mum would take over in the afternoon. No baby sitters, just tenacity and common sense!

When we started school, lunch was always hot meals at home, prepared by Dad. He would pick us up and feed us tagliatelle or steak, and then take us back to school.

The afternoon shift for Dad however came with consequences as there was always the danger of getting ambushed on his return home at night, by ‘dago-haters’. This was a common occurrence.

Living in Richmond was certainly an experience particularly with the 6.00pm ‘swill’ and the dozens of tired workers, on their way home trying to maximise the beers before the 6.00 pub closing and then drunk, staggering to find their way home. Then of course, the trainers walking the greyhounds thru’ the streets.

Bridge road was the main shopping strip with its great array of Greek delicatessens, Italian fruit shops and Aussie hardware stores.

Cremorne was ‘out-of-bounds’ and not an area to be ventured into. It was far too dangerous, particularly for non- Australians. 

Work was always taken seriously but mum and dad always found time on weekends to spend with friends and family. Money was scarce but food, drink and joy was plentiful. You would never know that we were all as poor as church mice, drove around in old bombs and lived in houses with one ‘kerosine heater’! But with a TV!  Pressures of life would have been tremendous however the children were always shielded from this and things always seemed ‘happy’.

Dad was never intimidated by anything or anyone, and taught us that “In life you need 2 things; courage and health. In particularly COURAGE as one day you may not have HEALTH!”

Our house had a large central courtyard which originally featured 2 magnificent palm trees. These were promptly removed and landscaping replaced with concrete. Thus, the area became the focal point of all the parties, festas and in summer time, a demountable pool for the kids.

Dad was always up for a challenge and kept on seeking additional ways of supplementing the family’s income. He tried breeding chickens as well as wholesaling cheese. He was however limited by his lack of English.

In the mid-sixties dad bought a house in Hawthorn.

It was on the tram route and closer to schools.

About this time, dad started dabbling in real estate. Buying old dwellings, fixing them as best we all could and renting them. We were all involved with the renovations.

There were some basic principles that Dad always maintained. They were simply – family, doing things together and a good education for the children.

There were no free weekends, as they were always committed to renovations, fixing the family ‘bomb’ or in later years, study. Notwithstanding the pressures of mortgages and living expenses, priority was always our education. Even private tuition for Italian and Music, encyclopaedias and music instruments, which we hated at the time. They were all bought on ‘credit’.  It took some 50 years to fully appreciate the extent of these sacrifices as both my sister and I have  had rewarding careers as well as a deep appreciation of the Arts.

‘Hurdles’ were plentiful, but one of the greatest was my father’s car accident on his way to work, in 1968. No worker’s compensation and no wages for the main bread winner. Everyone pitched in taking on odd jobs including a paper round for me. Mum was the only wage earner. Our friends lent us money during really difficult periods. For this, we are eternally grateful. We survived!

Dad continued with his work, notwithstanding on a walking stick, but never letting the mishappen dampen his spirit or enthusiasm.

We continued celebrating whatever opportunity there was. Whether it was an engagement, a card or Tombola night, collecting ‘cozze’ on Brighton beach, ‘abalone’ at Black Rock or ‘Senapi’ on the banks of the Maribyrnong River.

Our Parents retired in 1974, rewarding themselves with their first and only trip overseas; back to Italy of course, and other countries as well.

They both returned to their home towns, my father in Ragusa and my mother in Rovolon, but nothing was as they left it some 35 years earlier. It was a moment of realisation that as migrants, they would never be fully accepted in Australia, but they were now also strangers in their own birthplaces and no longer belonged in Italy! Australia was home to their children and therefore theirs!

Even after retirement, both mum and dad kept on helping us set up our own homes and futures.

They always taught us by example and again, that work is always to be taken ‘seriously’. Our parents weren’t wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. The wealth they bequeathed to us, was a wealth of wisdom, work ethics and a love of family. Dad always stressed his proverb “ Chi s’accontenta, gode!” (Appreciate and you will enjoy)

Dad passed away in 1997 having shared to us his real dream for his children; “All mum and I have done, was to give you the greatest gift we could - CHOICE!” These were words he shared in the last year of his life.

From our parents we learnt that the qualities of STAMINA, PERSERVERANCE, COURAGE, LOVE and FAMILY, were the driving forces which lead them thru’ their challenging journey of a new country, new people, new language, new traditions and a new life.

We are forever so grateful.