This story was written by ______________________.

From small town Sicily to an unknown land: an immigration journey in memory of Santo Luciano and Sebastiana Tine’.

I was born in a small town in south eastern Sicily called Canicattini Bagni in the province of Siracusa.  It was predominantly an agricultural town. Canicattini came to be because an earthquake hit Sicily around Noto in 1693 and the inhabitants decided to leave the area and settle in Canicattini. Presently Canicattini has approximately 7000 inhabitants.

It’s a lovely town built on a slight hill in the baroque style architecture.

My parents worked on the land and did mixed farming. They had crops of olives, almonds, carobs and wheat and also several livestock.

Mum and dad were always a team, working hard together and trying to get by in life. There were no machines to help with the tilling of the soil or the gathering of the crops. It was a hard life and everything was done by hand. Dad had a mule, and he would till the soil by having the mule pull the plough in the field. When it was time to pick the olives, the men would use long wooden poles to shake the olive branches so that the olives would fall down onto a tarpaulin especially placed under the tree. The women and children would then separate the olives from twigs and leaves and place them in special sacks ready to go to the olive press.

When the wheat was harvested, dad would go with the sickle and cut down the wheat and then arrange it into bundles. A large area was then cleared in a field and the bundles of wheat would be arranged in a full circle. The mule was then blindfolded and was made to ride around in circles on the wheat to separate the wheat from the chaff with his hooves. The farmer and the helpers would then sieve the chopped wheat and chaff mixture to extract the wheat which would then be placed in sacks.

It was all back breaking work, done in all sorts of weather. There was a lot of comradery – I have memories of roasting olives over a fire and eating them with fresh bread – delicious!

The town was very social, everyone knew who you were or who you belonged to. There were lots of “feste” – the main one was San Michele Arcangelo who is the patron of the town. The feast days were major celebrations. The statue of the saint would be paraded in the town and the people would be dressed in their best clothing and partake in the festivities.

Even though my parents were very hard workers, they could not get ahead and money was always tight.

Two of my mother’s brothers had already migrated to Australia.  I believe my mother was the driving force to leave Italy for Australia because of the two, she was more ambitious to get ahead.

And so, in 1964 the decision was made to come to Australia. My father purchased the tickets for a cabin on the Sydney Lauro Ocean Liner.

The parting is etched in my mind as something quite traumatic. The goodbyes were very poignant. Lots of tears and hugs. Australia was so far away that we did not know if we would see each other again.

We boarded the ship in Messina on 27 September 1964.

 We were all very sea sick initially, especially my mother who remained in the cabin for a good deal of the journey.  Our cabin consisted of a bunk bed which was for my parents and a cot beside the bunks which is where I slept. We had a vanity basin in the room, but the bathroom and toilet were in the corridor and were shared with people in three other cabins. I was very free on the ship, making friends with other children and running around exploring. I had the opportunity to try new food such as bananas. The food was plentiful and varied.

We saw many interesting things on the journey. First stop was Valletta in Malta, which was similar to Italy. We then passed through Port Said and Port Aden which were very different. We didn’t leave the ship but I remember boats loaded with merchandise approaching the ship to get sales. We purchased a transistor radio there. The money for payment was sent down in baskets and the radio or other item was then sent up via the same baskets. There were lots of local children swimming around the ship asking for coins to be thrown into the sea. They would then grab the coins and place them in their mouths for safekeeping. Their cheeks were stretched to the maximum holding this treasure. Another interesting thing I saw whilst on the ship was a school of dolphins swimming alongside the ship for quite some time.

After Port Aden, we came to Fremantle – our first impression of Australia.

A group of us got off the boat to have a look around. We came to a church and decided to go in. A wedding was taking place with lots of well-dressed people attending. The women were wearing lovely suits and hats. What impressed me was one well-dressed woman was taking photos with her camera. I was astonished to see this lady using her own camera.

We finally arrived in Melbourne on 22 October 1964. There was a large crowd at the Port and lots of streamers and people calling out. We joined my uncles after going through customs and finally went to their house, which was to be our home for the next 2 years.

Our three families lived together in a 3-bedroom house in Glencairn Avenue, Coburg.

My parents were working within the first few days of arrival. Dad started working at Ford on the assembly line in Broadmeadows and mum went to work in the Manchester Building in the city for a company called Luana Modes. She used to do garment finishing by hand. She would sew hems and buttons. Mum would often bring extra work to be done at home and was paid “piece work” for this. In addition, they both had second jobs. Dad worked for a few hours a week at a bottle depot stacking bottles when his workday at Ford ended and mum would go and work at a local dressmaker for a couple of hours a few nights a week after finishing at the factory.

I was enrolled at the local Catholic primary school – St Fidelis in Coburg.  I was ready for grade 3 but because we were in the last term of the school year, I was placed in grade 2 to give me time to learn the English language. There were no school programs for children who did not speak English and I found it very hard to settle into the school routine. I couldn’t understand what was happening in the classroom and I was very bored. It was hard to make friends or join in games in the playground. My mother was upset because I didn’t want to go to school. In Italy, I had achieved good results and the knowledge I had gained was more advanced than what was being taught in the grade 2 classroom. For example, I knew how to do sums of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. I was writing in cursive style using a pen. The children in my grade were doing the simplest sums of addition and subtraction and still writing in the printing style in pencil. In Italy we were being taught some Roman history. In primary school in Australia, the first history lessons from memory were in grade 5. My cousin Gaetano and I would walk to and from school together and look after ourselves when we returned home, waiting for our parents to come home from work.

There were only a handful of families living in Melbourne that originated in Canicattini Bagni. These families were like an extended family for us. We used to exchange visits on the weekends and would be included in celebrations such as baptisms, engagements and weddings. A typical visit to our “paesani” friends would consist of sitting in the “good” lounge, being offered a liquor (for adults) to begin with, followed by a beer or soft drink. Lastly, coffee and biscuits would be served. This would signal the end of the visit!

Within our own family – that is my uncles, aunts and cousins, we would celebrate everything together. We would always be together for Christmas, new year and Easter. This was the tradition until only a few years ago when the family became larger and cousins married and had families of their own.

I think initially my parents would have thought how easily money was coming in. They would get paid every week and within 2 years had saved enough for a good deposit on their first home in Brunswick. Their first home was a timber single front in Edward Street in Brunswick. It was a charming, detached dwelling with iron lacework on the veranda and leadlight glass on the front window and door. It was mainly in its original condition. I remember a copper boiler in the laundry. Mum used to wash everything by hand until finally, after a year or so, they bought a washing machine. Slowly they made small repairs to the house. They updated the small bathroom and repaired the windows and plaster walls. There was no heating, so we had a kerosene heater that was moved from room to room to keep us warm in winter.

We lived in the house until the end of 1975 at which time my parents bought their second house in Maher St Fawkner. Dad wanted a house made of brick with a garage as he had recently purchased a car. My dad obtained his licence at the age of 50 and his car was a source of pride for him. My parents lived in their Fawkner house for the remainder of their days. They updated and extended the house and lived there very comfortably. My parents and my uncles would help each other in whatever needed to be done. If there was painting or sauce making or sausage making, they would join forces and help each other out. Very rarely would they have paid for a tradesman to come and do work for them. They knew a little bit about electrical repairs and plumbing repairs and would attempt to fix things without paying anyone to do it.

I believe my parents’ intention was to build a good nest egg and return to their native land after a few years, but as time went on, this dream became more difficult to realise due to lack of suitable employment in Italy and children growing older in Australia and adapting to the lifestyle.

My parents always chose to live and work surrounded by other Italian speaking people. They never learned to speak English in a manner to make them independent.  As a little girl and then older child and mature adult, I was the one that spoke for them in all sorts of situations – i.e. – medical, legal, banking, utilities etc.  When I was a young teenager, my father had 2 very serious work accidents where he lost part of a finger and the rest of his hand was degloved. I had to attend all appointments with him, including one where we went before a Workers Compensation Tribunal. Similarly, when I was 9 years old, my mother was hit by a car as she was crossing the street to get a tram in the city.  She refused help by strangers, fearful of being taken to hospital and returned home battered and bruised. I then accompanied her to the local doctor which I found a bit frightening.

My father firmly believed in his children getting a good education. This was something denied to him and my mother in Sicily. They both had to help their parents and couldn’t attend school regularly because of this. My father had to go to the “campagna” with his father from the age of 8 to help with the chores and my mother had to help her mother look after the younger children. Dad achieved grade 5 level and mum only achieved grade 3 level. Both my parents were very intelligent and capable, and we can only wonder what could have been if they had better opportunities.

This immigration story is really about mum and dad. They left their homeland, family and friends and embarked on a journey into the unknown world. They had never ventured out of their local area. I often wonder how frightening this new world was for them. They didn’t speak the language, they had to adapt to living in a big city among people they didn’t know. As children, we adapt to change very easily but it must have been very hard for the adults.

My parents were satisfied with what they achieved in Australia. They achieved home ownership, financial security and an investment property and had another daughter, Lorenza, born in 1971. They helped both my sister and I set ourselves up into our adult lives. They made new friends outside of their paesani circles and belonged to various Italian clubs, church groups and pensioner clubs. They adapted to their new circumstances in a foreign land and made the most of their opportunities. They lived their lives with integrity and love for their family.