This contribution was written by Carmelo Nuciforo.

1. Background in Sicily

a. Origins in Sicily – Which Town/City?

My name is Carmelo Nuciforo. I’m known as Charlie to family and friends, and as Charles in my work environment. This came about when I started full-time work and my manager decided that the English equivalent of Carmelo was Charles.

I am happily married and have two grown children, a son and a daughter, both in stable relationships. My son and daughter-in-law have two children, making my wife and I proud grandparents. My beautiful daughter has recently married and lives with her husband.

Both my parents have passed away—my father from a terminal illness at the age of 63, and my mother at 90. My father was born in Gaggi (Messina), and my mother in Castiglione (Catania). They are both buried in Melbourne.

I have one sibling, a younger brother, three years my junior. He is married and has two grown children—our adorable nieces.

In Sicily, we lived in Gaggi (Sicilian: Kaggi), a commune in the Province of Messina, about 45 kilometres southwest of Messina, near the seaside towns of Giardini Naxos and Taormina. When my grandfather died, I was approximately three years old. We lived in Via Umberto I, not far from the Chiesa San Giuseppe Operaio. My grandmother had passed away about six months before I was born. Both are buried in the Gaggi cemetery.

I have no clear explanation as to why my grandfather’s surname appears as “Nucifora” in some records. I attribute this to illiteracy and phonetic spelling based on how names sounded. As for my grandmother, my mother always said she died a heartbroken woman due to my grandfather’s infidelities.

I was born in September 1956 in Gaggi, Sicily, on the eastern side of the island, not far from Giardini Naxos and Taormina. This region reflects Sicily’s deep Greek heritage—part of Magna Graecia—and later the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies (1816–1861). Greek influence is still evident throughout southern Italy.

We lived with my grandfather, whom I was named after. I vaguely remember him, but have no memory of my grandmother. My mother described my grandfather as a gambler, a womaniser, and a heavy drinker. He was forced to sell his house in Gaggi to settle gambling debts.

Interestingly, he made several trips to America. Records of these journeys exist at Ellis Island, which I researched during a visit in 2017. On one trip, he took my uncle—my father’s older brother—who stayed for several years and completed part of his schooling there. When I saw my uncle in 1979 in Reggio Emilia, he spoke English with a strong American accent.

While Nuciforo is not a common surname, it can be found outside Italy—in the United States, Argentina, and Greece. In Australia, there are small pockets in North Queensland, particularly around the sugar cane industry. I recall being surprised when a chemist in Cairns wrote my surname correctly without needing me to spell it out. In Queensland, there is also David Nucifora, a well-known rugby union player and coach, and I was often asked if I was related to him.

As for the origin of my surname, there are several theories. My preferred one is that it derives from a Greek nickname related to walnut gathering, as the regions of Messina and Catania are known for walnuts. Variations of the name include Niceforo, Nicifora, and Nucifora. The Greek equivalent, Nikifóros, comes from “nikē” (victory) and “phérō” (to bring), meaning “bringer of victory.”

On my mother’s side, my grandmother was born in Castiglione (Catania) and passed away in Melbourne in the 1980s. Her first husband died tragically after accidentally detonating an unexploded World War II bomb while working in a field. At the time, she had one child—my aunt. She later remarried and had two more children: my mother and my uncle.

The three siblings were very close. Apart from a difference in height—my aunt was shorter than my mother and uncle—they shared a strong bond. I know very little about my maternal grandfather, except that he died of illness well before the family migrated to Australia.

My grandmother enjoyed a drink or two of homemade wine. My uncle kept a cantina at the back of his house, where he made and stored wine. Because she would often help herself, he eventually had to padlock the door. Life had clearly been difficult for her.

One of my early memories is of her living in what I would describe as a railway siding in Francavilla di Sicilia, at the end of a small street next to the railway line. As a child, I spent many happy times exploring the area with my cousin. The station and railway line are no longer in use.

My grandmother migrated to Australia with my uncle in the 1970s. She initially lived with him nearby in Vine Street, Moonee Ponds, before later moving in with us. She passed away peacefully in our home at the age of 82. The day before she died, she told me she could see angels near the back gate. It felt like an omen.

My mother’s maiden name was Tornatore. Interestingly, in Castiglione di Sicilia there is a well-known winery, Cantina Tornatore, in the Mount Etna region. I have visited wineries in Sicily, but not yet this one. It is certainly on my list for a future visit—perhaps there are family connections.

b. Lifestyle in Sicily at the Time

My father worked as a contadino—a labourer working the land for its owner. After my grandfather’s house in Gaggi was sold and he passed away in 1959, my parents moved to a property near Giardini Naxos.

We lived on a lemon orchard, and to this day the smell of lemon zest immediately takes me back to Sicily. A lemon tree now takes pride of place in my garden.

The arrangement, as I understand it, was that my parents lived rent-free in exchange for my father’s labour. My mother raised us and cared for livestock, including cows that were fattened and sold. They lived off these proceeds and any additional work my father could find, including labouring on a construction site in Giardini Naxos—what was the Hilton and now is the Delta Hotel.

I remember regular family trips to Giardini Naxos —for movies, festas, and even a circus on the beach. Trips to the public gardens in Taormina are also vivid memories, and I still visit them whenever I return.

I developed a lifelong love of cinema. One of my favourite films is Cinema Paradiso, which reminds me deeply of my childhood. It’s one of my all-time favourites directed by Giuseppe Tornatore (...again the Tornatore surname. He could be a distant relation!). Set in a small Sicilian town after the ending of the second world war, the film centres on the friendship between a young boy and an aging projectionist. Music is by the late and great Ennio Morricone.

My father had limited schooling but was able to read and write. My mother, by contrast, was illiterate—a fact she was very conscious of. Despite this, she possessed remarkable mental arithmetic skills and could calculate totals instantly while shopping. My younger brother has also inherited this ability.

My schooling in Sicily ended halfway through Grade 3. My teacher, dressed in black tunic, ran a strict classroom. Speaking dialect was forbidden—we had to speak proper Italian. She often read from The Leopard, exposing us to history and literature at a young age.

When I left for Australia, she gave me a Saint Christopher pendant for protection. Years later, I passed it on to my son when he travelled overseas.

In summary, my parents were not educated or privileged, but they were hardworking, endowed with common sense, and made great sacrifices. My father could be strict, even harsh at times, but he mellowed later in life. My mother was gentle and endlessly caring.