photo Rooftops in the Piazza Venezia inRome, Italy. On week tive. a I Saturday of take April, the I 780 afternoon finally from become Piazza in the operaVene last weekofApril, I finally become operative .I takethe780from PiazzaVenezia andgetoff atPiazzadellaRadio.I walkto PiazzaEnrico Fermi. There aretoomany cars itwouldtakea smallmiracle tofind a parking place.Thesidewalks arecongested. Peopleare drawntotheclothing stores likeflies tohoney orgarbage. I stopinfront ofa display windowtostare at thereflection ofmyface.I'm struck byone detail: themustache. It'sthefirst time inmylife I've grownone,and I seemat leastfiveyears older.I've had myhairalmostall shavedoff, likea marine. ForsureI'll save on shampoo and gel!I gotsomecheapclothes, jeansand a sweater madeinChina,telling myusuallook togetlost.Inother words, I'munrecognizable. Fortheumpteenth timeI stickmyright handintotheinsidepocketofmyjacket.No panic:thewallet'sthere. Butwhat'shappening tome?AmI afraid ofbeingmugged, likesome tourist? Don'tberidiculous. Ijustwant toassure myself thatI haven'tlost my new identity papers.Without theresidency permit, I'm an illegalimmigrant at riskofexpulsion. Bynow I've memorized all thenewbiographical facts. Starting todayI havea newname,a newdate ofbirth, a newcitizenship, andI wasbornina different country. It takesa little timeto getintocharacter. Meanwhile, I havetogetusedtothiscrummy mustache. I havethestrange sensation ofbeing insidesomeoneelse'sbody,an intruder inmy own skin.In fact, in RomeI reallyam a foreigner , it'sa city I don'tknowwell.I must have beenherea dozen times, butalwayspassing through. Thefirst time, I cameona classtrip. I knowitas a tourist, nomoreorless.Ofcourse, I canclaimI've seentheColosseum, theTrevi Fountain, Piazza Navona,VillaBorghese - just likemillions ofother peopleintheworld. AndthenI shouldn't complain toomuch; feeling likea foreigner atthis particular moment isn'ta handicap, in factit'sa greatadvantage in playing myrole.Ofcourse, I don'tmeana rolein a film - I'm carrying out a dangerous mission. AndI haveno intention ofplaying at James BondorDonnieBrasco - I don'thavethe physique for it. o o 0 1 Q. 42 1 World Literature Today peace.I was often taken for oneofthem: I had typically Mediterranean features and I spoke Tunisian Arabic well. I visited Tunisfor thefirst time whenI was thirteen, with myfamily. Wetook the boatinthe lateafternoon andarrived attheportofTunis earlythenextmorning. Thatnight I couldn't sleep,I was so excited.We stayedfortwo weeks.Itwas an unforgettable journey forme: I finally saw thelandwheremygrandparents wereborn.SincethenI've beenbackseveral times. After highschool,no one was surprised whenI decidedtoenroll intheFaculty ofOrientalLanguages attheUniversity ofPalermo. I wanted toimprove myArabic. Attheuniversity I beganstudying classicalArabic; I was determinedbutalso enthusiastic. I reallylikedthe grammar, which droveeveryone elsecrazy, not justthestudents buttheprofessors. I wasoneof thebeststudents, and a lotofpeoplecouldn't believe that mynative language wasItalian. I wrote mythesis onGiuseppeGaribaldi's sojourn inTunisia. Theresearch wasvery difficult . I don'tknowwhyI likecomplicated things so much! WhatdoesGaribaldi havetodo with Tunisia? He doeshavesomething todo withit, hedoes.TheHerooftheTwoWorlds arrives in Tunisin 1834toescapethedeathsentence for insurrection pronounced bythecourt inGenoa. He spendsa yearintheTunisian capital under thefalsenameofGiuseppePane,working for thebeyofTunis. After hisTunisian stay hecontinues hisadventures as a revolutionary inBrazil ,where hesupports theindependence movements against thePortuguese andtheSpanish. In 1859hereturns toTunis, buttheauthorities denyhim entrance when the Frenchconsul intervenes. For his local admirers, Garibaldi continues tobea hero, a true revolutionary. For hisdetractors, ontheother hand, heismerely an outlaw, a dangerous terrorist. After I gotmydegree I often wenttoTunisia ,andI also had opportunities tovisitother Arabcountries: Algeria, Morocco, Yemen, Jordan ,Egypt, Lebanon, Syria. Obviously, people often continued totakemefor a Tunisian, butI didn't mindatall. I wouldhave likedto have an academic career, buta flunky no - I reallydidn'twant tobe theprofessor's servant andkisshisass.I tookseveral examsso I couldstudyfora doctorate , butwithout getting anywhere. I quickly understood that thesystem was oftheMafioso type, withall kindsofgodfathers, bosses,and affiliates. Inother words, there wasnothing left for me.So I wassatisfied witha jobatthecourt in Palermoas an Arabicinterpreter. Luckily, orunluckily, there area lotofArabcriminals (mostly fromtheMaghreb), and percentagewisethey havea largepresence inItalian prisons .So there was neveranyshortage ofwork. ThenCaptainJudasarrivedto turnmy life upsidedown. Itallbegana fewweeksago. I was coming outofthecourtroom during thelunch break whena guyina gray suitcame up to me;he was aroundforty, talland lean. Right awayI thought hewas a newjudgeora lawyer ona business trip. He saidtomeina serious tone: "Signor Christian Mazzari?" "Yes." "Hello. I'mCaptain Tassarotti from the SISMI, military intelligence. I'dliketotalk toyou." Theword"sismi" didn'tscareme.Inthree yearsofworkat thecourtit often happened thatI worked withtheantiterrorism squad.In particular, I'd beenaskedtotranslate telephone wiretaps andpropaganda flyers. Together we leftthecourt. We gotintoa waiting car,andthedriver immediately headed toward thesea. Thecaptain's wayofproceeding impressed me.He gotto thepointimmediately, without beating aroundthebush;maybehe was in a hurry...
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