Fabrizia is a village high in the mountains of Calabria, a region in the south of Italy. It’s not on the tourist trail but it is a place that is very close to my heart. It is surrounded by some of the last remaining virgin forest in Europe which, according to local folklore, is still populated with wolves. The land is unforgiving but the air is fresh, the forest mystical and the natural spring water is the most delicious water I have ever tasted. It’s still possible to stop by the side of the road and fill up your empty water bottles with crystal clear naturally ‘frizzante water.
The origin of Fabrizia, however, is less than salubrious. Again,
according to local folklore, three robbers or brigands were escaping the law
and decided to flee to the most inhospitable place they could find and took
shelter in a cave, thinking that nobody would even think of looking for them there.
This cave grew into a village called Fabrizia, the birthplace of my late
husband, Salvatore Nesci.
Most Italian villages have a patron saint who watches over and protects
the inhabitants or the Fabrizioti in this case. The patron Saint of Fabrizia is
Saint Anthony or San Antonio and he has a lot of work to do to cover the
Fabrizian diaspora as they migrated far and wide to Australia, North
America, Argentina and of course to the prosperous north of Italy.
Most Calabrians of the previous generation had a small shrine or grotto
in their living rooms dedicated to Saint Antony. He is a benevolent saint
always carrying a small child as he is also the patron Saint of sick children.
Saint Anthony has become an integral part of my life and I still have a
statue of him in my living room, taking pride of place next to the photo of Salvatore. Some would see my
shrine to St Anthony as ludicrous. Others would see it as a miracle worked by
the great saint, that a protestant-raised girl of the seventies with no real religious
bent should display such a mediaeval tribute to Catholicism. I often wonder
myself.
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