The Sicilian Woman – English Edition – Part 2

Part two




She had started wondering about her past a year earlier, after an accidental meeting, to which, at that time, she didn’t give much importance.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Angelina was lazily strolling with a friend in an open market set at Miami Beach. People were busily moving around the many stalls offering to the sightseer clothes, jewelry, and old curiosities. The two young women found at a stall some attractive necklaces, and they were enjoying their time.

Then Marisa, Angelina’s friend, spotted a sign displayed on a tent, reading in large capital letters,


Angelina told her friend,

“It’s an appealing invitation and promises such fun. Let us pop in for a laugh. Come Marisa, we are going to find out who will be our future husbands.”

Inside the tent incense burned in a brass saucer emanating a spicy odor.

A middle-aged gypsy woman sat at a table. She was dressed in a long dark skirt and a frilly white blouse.

Long curly blond hair sprang out from her colorful scarf and large round gold hearings hung from her lobes. She was adorned with heavy golden chain and bracelets, decorated with amulets in the old traditional gypsy fashion.

She was one of the rare gypsies left around in the Americas, professing the old skill, learned and handed down from mother to daughter in centuries of telling prophecies to people around the world.

Angelina sat in front of this modern witch, and when requested, she cut the Tarots. The gypsy woman used a complex archaic way of displaying the cards, for, soon after regrouping them again into selected bundles. She finally read from one of the chosen bundles.

She read the oracles in a sibylline way, with her words filled with double meanings, and using purposely mysterious oracle words, to create suspense and the sense of archaic mystery.

Angelina’s prophecy was told in this way,

“Your grandmother’s spirit has taken life inside you. She is using your body to execute her wish of returning to the land in which she had born and where the olives grow…

“It is also the land of the old Gods and Prophets. They had descended from their Olympian’s reign, where these mystic Gods had lived for long time, and well before the modern Gods that exist now.

“You shall return to her land, so that your Ancestor’s spirit will finally rest peacefully under the Gods’ millenarian olive tree, which mark the place where she had born and belongs.

“Sitting in the shade of the sacred olive tree, she will be gently caressed by the Mediterranean breeze, and finally she will be at peace. In that way, you, blood of her blood, shall inherit her fatherland and you will become the link of her life, and will inherit her homeland for your progeny.”

Angelina listened to such revelations of the Gypsy’s oracle in a skeptical way and didn’t take her seriously; certainly not at that time or at her age.

Three years had passed since the Gypsy’s prediction, and now, like in a mosaic, everything was going into place. Angelina could now understand the deep meaning of the prophecy and the call of her Grandmother’s spirit begging for the return of her soul to the land of the secular olive tree, where she would find her peace. This wish became in time more and more imperative and compelled her to listen to her grandmother’ spirit, to return to the homeland of her ancestors to fulfill her desire.





It was an early morning in springtime, with a glorious sunrise, when the Alitalia flight arrived at Punta Raisi, the Palermo single airstrip, one of the world’s most dangerous airports, set between the cobalt sea and the mountains circling the city.

Angelina felt tired from the long journey but happy and full of hope for her future.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy tracing the Accana family in Palermo, but she hoped that with God’s help and some good luck, she would overcome any problems she may encounter.

She booked her stay at ‘Le Petite’, a cozy little family hotel with only six rooms set in an undisturbed alley situated behind the maritime terminal and in the vicinity of the Quattropunti, (Four Points) the heart of Palermo city.

She woke in the afternoon, after her flight from the States, she found herself full of energy with a wolf’s appetite. She moved around the neighborhood and chose a pizzeria where she ordered a ‘Calzone’ pizza cooked in the traditional oven over burning coals. She thought that was the best pizza and enjoyed it with a glass of good white wine. After the meal, she mixed with the locals in their traditional evening stroll on the crowded city footpaths, and was fascinated by the multicolored reflection of the shopping lights on the city paths.

She found the old narrow streets crowded with colorful people and the city adorned with the vestiges of history and décor. The centuries old streets, along her way, kept opening into a chain of small Piazzas adorned with classical palaces and the Norman churches several centuries old.

This part of Palermo, where she was, had preserved the ancient history of the past and the facades of the old buildings reflected the evidence of many tragedies and opulence spanning back three millenniums of history of this city. Since the first Grecian invader had sat foot and proclaimed the colony, to the last Spanish Bourbons that proclaimed the reign of two Sicily and ended by the hand of Garibaldi. The many monuments they left behind show the progressive steps in the history of invasion and dominance of the many invaders, and represent a documented evidence of today’s inheritance of the local population presenting a mixture of blood and culture.






Published by carlogabbiwriter

Italian born, and living in Australia. I'm writing for the past 15 years in both Italian and English language. I pubblished my first book in USA and it's available with Amazon. I also wrote several long stories which are grouped under the name "A song of Love" and several other works available in my blog in Rosso Venexiano.

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