The year must have been 1974 when new neighbours arrived – a family of five with two adult children from faraway Australia. Nobody in that family knew how to read and write, and so my 12-year-old sister Lourdes became their official scribe. Light blue aerograms which were folded in three, sealed and stamped – no photos or other things permitted inside. Listening to those letters being read by my sister and the mother of the family dictating her response were accompanied by the occasional tear or two. I used to enjoy watching the whole drama unfold and at times felt envious of my sister that she had such an important and intimate part in the whole operation.
Eleven years later, in 1985, I penned my first missive to a prisoner. Giovanni was doing a 25-year sentence for homicide in an Italian prison. From what Sr. Agnese – a Missionaries of Charity Sister living in Reggio Calabria – had told me, Giovanni had turned himself in to the authorities, after undergoing a spiritual conversion. He longed to connect with people through letters. I was 19 years old and even though I was thrilled by the adventure, I did not even tell my parents, lest Giovanni would one day come knocking on my door after being released or after he escaped! Nothing of the sort happened. Ten years later, in Civitavecchia, I met Giovanni for the first time when on a 24-hour leave from prison. Giovanni finished his sentence in 1997, and today he is the proud grandfather of three children. We still communicate. At times he still longs to be inside his quiet prison cell where he had long periods of time for prayer and meditation, instead of being part of the frenetic and noisy activity of the outside world. (Even though this essay is not directly about Giovanni it is worth mentioning that his girlfriend – who would eventually become his wife while he was in prison – used to travel over 1,000 kilometres on Friday, visit him on Saturday and return home on Sunday so she would be back to work on Monday morning!) Nowadays my letter writing has expanded to more than 35 inmates whom I met over the years.
Brother Carmel Duca MC
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