NON CE L'HO NIENTE

"Era proprio brutto."

It was really ugly.

It all started at the end of the war, when Maria heard a knock at the door. Two men in tightly pressed uniforms stood tall, and stood stern, with a sharpness in their eyes that knew exactly what they wanted. When they spoke it was strong, albeit broken Italian strewed around some German words.

They had thought the war was over, and the fear was behind them. But on this day in 1945 they had never experienced such dismay. As the soldiers entered the room they had asked for everything they had, and both began searching the house for the rations that were saved for the family.

Maria stood close by, watching the foreign men search the house in which her and her family once shared endless laughter and tears of joy. Only now she shed tears in fear of being taken away.

The men took what was left of the food supply and left, and without allowing a sigh of relief they returned back the following day.

"Non ce l'ho niente, che cosa mi sembra di avere?" Maria's mother gestured around her house.

"I don't have anything, what does it look like I have?"

But the soldiers knew she was a married woman and asked for her wedding ring. They saw the gold hanging from her earlobes and asked for them as well.

"Andiamo via! Andiamo via*!" Maria's sisters urged as they tried to protect her. They tried to pull her away from the scene as nothing but cold fear was all they could feel. They all feared for their lives. Although no matter how much they tried, Maria could still see come la mamma tremeva* as she handed over her wedding ring to the foreign men in the uniforms.

"Noi eravamo lucky..."

We were lucky...

"...che loro non hanno ammazzato nessuno della famiglia."

...that they didn't kill anybody in the family.

The soldiers had taken everything. Everything from their jewelry, to their food, and even their clothes. They had nothing. So desperate, Maria had to sacrifice her bed sheets in order to keep herself warm during the days that passed by. Her mother tore them all up, while her daughters helped create a new wardrobe. It was through this moment in time that Maria began to develop an interest in designing and creating clothing.

A few weeks later they were met with another knock at the door. Weary to greet the stranger with a warm hello, Maria's mother still decided to open it. There on the other side stood a man who was seeking refuge in their house. He was an escaped German doctor.

The kind family accepted him into their house after he saw the second eldest daughter was very sick. Her body was ridden with a terrible rash that seemingly would have killed her if it weren't treated immediately.

"Era un buon uomo."

"He was a good man."

The man took the family outside in their garden and began picking out specific herbs from the crops that were finally starting to grow back. He then brought them inside and began mixing them, cooking them all together, "era come un burro."

"It was like a butter."

The daughter was asked to be stripped down to her underwear and to be sat atop the kitchen bench. There she obliged and exposed the rash that seemed to have covered her body like a red blanket, and it was spreading.

Once the treatment was ready the doctor began to lather it over the rash. With each passing day she got better, until finally the treatment was no longer needed.

Her mother cried and thanked him for the good he had brought her family. More than grateful in the moment, although she knew that she would be forever haunted by the happenings of 1945.

"L'ha guarita."

"He healed her."