Questa pubblicazione in inglese è stato il coronamento di un Progetto Europeo e Mondiale che ha coinvolto migliaia di uomini e donne anziane di tutte le nazionalità. Dopo diversi incontri tra coloro che vi avevano partecipato, realizzando tanti lavori che testimoniavano il desiderio di essere presenti, attivi e ancora creativi, a Londra è stato realizzato il libro LIFE AFTER WORK (La Vita dopo la Pensione) che raccoglie i contributi di donne di tutto il mondo sulle proprie esperienze e realizzazioni dopo aver lasciato il lavoro. Per l’Italia è stato scelto lo scritto di Rina GATTI “ IL RISVEGLIO DELL’ANIMA” ( Reawakening of the Soul ) che è stato così pubblicato nell’edizione di The Women’s Press nel 1999.

Today is my birthday. I am 74 and have been living in Perugia, central Italy, for many years, but I was born in the country, of peasant stock, on the plains that lie along the River Tiber just a few kilometers from here. When I look back over my life- -from the countryside of Torgiano, running barefoot along the river, to the present- I still find it hard to believe that the consciousness of time and remembrance only began for me when I became a pensioner.

Up to then I had done many jobs, on top of taking care of the family and an irresponsible husband. Work and duty had always been my priority- everything came before my own needs. I was just surviving in a situation from which I could see no way out. Now I am surprised to find how far I’ve come since retirement. Little by little I’ve begun to live, leaving the past behind and focusing on the present. It hasn’t been easy.

Everything started when I went on holiday to the seaside, after my husband died, in 1989. I had never been away by myself before and to find myself alone, without having to clean or cook for anyone, was just like a dream. At least I was free to think, to reflect. I had time just for me. I felt relaxed without responsibilities, newly curious like a child – and, just like a child, I was taking long walks along the beach at sunrise and collecting colored shells.

I looked around: Everything seemed new, the beaches full of people, men, women, and children, all half naked and basking in the sun. Young people embraced on the sand, oblivious of anything else. Free. I couldn’t bring myself to disrobe and don a bathing costume – felt ashamed, ill at ease. My youth came to mind, my strict upbringing where everything was forbidden, sinful and taboo. Love was closed between fear and shame. What sort of life was that compared to these young people now? What had that experience made me?

These questions recurred in my mind – questions I’d never asked myself, forcing me to think. They gathered in the evening on the seafront, when everything turned red at sundown, and they became more persistent at night, as I looked at the reflection of the moon on the soft waves. I was feeling a different awareness grow inside me, something strange that I neither could nor explain. I was trying to understand myself.

The sea of emotion that had moved within me was pushing to erupt, so I decided to start writing down what I was feeling. In short, I wanted to begin to know myself, to start a dialogue after a lifetime of self-denial.

But it took time and strong determination to begin the process of re-examination al that had been imposed on me and what I had simply accepted without question.

As a pensioner, I could look at the world with fresh eyes and I found that it wasn’t quite and small and limited, as I had believed. First of all I decided that I was no longer going to be slave to the house and kitchen and that I must go out and meet people: I must meet pensioner like me, who had a lot to give and a lot to teach and learn.

It was due to a pensioners club that I went on another holiday, this time to the mountains, and that experience was incredible. The hotel was warm and welcoming, everyone was good humor, and one just sat down for food and everything would be done for you. It was the first time in 65 years that I was a true guest and, God; I didn’t want to wake up! The mountains, too, were full of wonderful surprises. Those majestic peaks were so beautiful: the sun shone from the to as if it were falling out of the sky and disappeared in the peaks opposite, all burning red like fire. There were opportunities to spent time with my holiday companions, to take walks along shady paths, to breathe the clear, perfumed air. It was wonderful to have friends at last, to laugh, and tell stories and jokes. These unknown people suddenly became as familiar as old friends. Everyone was telling their stories in the dialect of Perugia; of all their miseries and sufferings, of working like beasts when the bosses had all the power. Who would have thought then that one day we would be drawing a pension, especially the women – we’d never imagined then a pension of our own! We debated the justice of it and how it was due to the pension that we have started to live. Everyone recounted their own experiences, the troubles, pleasures, loves, and I became more convinced that love is indeed the most important things. Life without love has no taste and without pain has no value.

I wanted to study in depth these thoughts, because in my life I’ve had a lot of pain and suffering and I felt again that I must write about it. I thought it would be useful to others, especially to the young who need to be aware that without the past there is no future.

It was in the mountains that I met a person who was to become the pivot of my journey to rediscover myself. She was president of the organization AIDA, which caters for women like me: no longer young but with plenty of energy and zest for life. She noticed my writing and liked that I was doing. Gradually she involved me in the programs and projects of the association. She talked to me of the European project Donna (Woman) and she spurred me on to continue with my writing, saying the reminiscences were not just mine, but were shared with all the generation of men and women who grow up in poverty and war, and through an age that had changes the world irreversibly. She was kind and thoughtful and gave me confidence in what I was doing. I was at ease straight away.

Back at home I started taking part in the group’s meetings, witch took place in public buildings I had only ever seen before from outside. Together with women like me, laden with years and experience, I found myself exchanging views and opinions for the first time on e regular basis; talking of mutual problems, proposing initiatives for involving other people and for building something to help the aged, to stimulate their interest and encourage them to take pleasure in what they were doing. For the first time I felt the important, listened to, my point of view taken into account and my ideas and project carried out. This made me happy, but a little confused, and I still felt out of place, as all the other women looked so polished in every way. I had not ever thought about my appearance for many years. Work and family had made me a slave and I was very untidy. I felt a bit trampish and something had to be done. So I decided to get organized. As a child I’d never been to a dentist and hairdressers were for the rich. When we had toothache we put up with it and when we couldn’t stand it any longer we would go to the local doctor or to the convent to get the tooth pulled out. It was done there and then, with no anesthetic, without any thought of appearance or pain. But now it was different. I had to change and I had to do it for myself. I made appointments at the dentist and started to have my hair done. I’m doing now what I never did when I was young and it has been worth it.

With just these small changes, these presents to myself, I found joys and pleasures long forgotten. I discover that feelings never get old. In spite of white hair and aching limbs I found that my emotions were as strong as when I was 20.

I was very moved when I saw couples of my age showing affection to each other and holding hands, things which I had completely forgotten, and I experiences all sorts of feelings when seeing people forming new partnership and even talking of remarrying. I admire their courage and I think that one should follow one’s heart. But it also made me sad, as I haven’t been able to do this, even now, and I would love to go back in time to find real love, kindness, affection, sweet words, tender embraces, something that everyone should experience at least once in a lifetime. Never mind about sin, which we were told about as youngsters. In short, since I became a pensioner life has been completely different, and I’m the first to be amazed. It’s as if time has reversed. I feel younger and full of life. I think that the feeling of being useless, which was prevalent among our old people years ago and was resented by the young, is no longer there.

The grandchildren now are closer to us, seeing their grandparents full of life, smart, frequenting universities, enjoying culture and travel. I feel listened to and in closer contact with the young. I’d never traveled before, never taken a holiday let alone been on an airplane, and I’ve experienced all this since I’ve been a pensioner. It has been amazing to go abroad as the representative of my generation. I couldn’t believe that it was me, the little peasant girl who used to run barefoot along the Tiber, who now speaks to pensioner friends the world over – that they come to listen to me, to applaud me.

Being a pensioner can be the reawakening of the soul, the right time to find inner peace and harmony within oneself. I’ve found all this since I started to write: I wrote poems, stories, free thoughts, anything that came to mind, and then I began to write my life story from first recollections of childhood, like in a film, in a dream. It is something that I would recommend to all. Writing is great therapy, an act of love towards oneself and to life. It’s a way of finding what is lost, to relive past joys and infinite sorrows. It’s the only way to come to terms with one’s past.

I felt as if I had no past. I had gone through life as if blindfolded and so I stumbled. I fell many times and in spite of all that, I’ve now succeeded in finding myself. I needed to become a pensioner to find again the value of life and friendship, to discover who I was and who I am and to know what I want to do in future.

And the most important thing I’ve discovered is that we might as well be together and love one another, because, happy or sad, we are only tourists on this earth.