07/06/2005
stampa
invia
The United States have had four different presidents since 1981, republican and
democratic. But one thing has not changed opposite no. 1600, Pennsylvania Avenue,
the address of the White House: Concepcion Martin Picciotto, a tiny Spanish lady
who is now sixty years old, twenty-four of which she has spent on her own stubborn,
solitary protest against the world’s leading superpower, in an attempt to draw
people’s attention to the issue of nuclear disarmament. IN summer and in winter,
sunshine or rain, Concepcion is always there inside her tent, surrounded by a
few rags, a bottle of water, newspaper cuttings and Pacifist banners. “Ban all
atomic weapons or have fun on judgement day”, it says on one of them. Lots of
tourists stop and have their photo taken with her, and she is never lost for words..
“Where do you come from?”, she asks the Italian journalist. “Ah, Italy. Where from?”, and she bends over
to rummage through a grill she keeps close at hand. A few seconds later she pulls
out a photocopy of an article published in the Repubblica newspaper back in 1988.
It is not the only article abut her: down the years her storey has appeared in
the press all over the world, and not always in flattering terms. It is still
a mystery who Concepcion really is – or Connie, or Conchita, or Concetta, as she
calls her self depending on the nationality of the person speaking to her. For
some she is a heroine, for others an old fool. Her appearance certainly does not
help matters; as well as the smell predictably coming from the tent (which is
her only home), Concepcion’s smile shows all the signs of passing time and poor
hygiene. She has a strange bundle on here head: under a black wig she wears a
helmet, which she only takes off when she goes to sleep, “It is to protect me
against attacks”, so she says. But are not you hot? “Oh yes, really hot. But it
is because of the police, you cannot imagine how many times they have hit me”.
Not everything the lady says is probably true. For instance, she claims she always
has a strange soar throat because a toxic gas is sprayed over her at night that
comes from the White House. But there can be no doubt that she has seen a lot
during her lifetime. She arrived in the United States from her homeland Galizia
back in the 1960s and soon married an American business man of Sicilian descent.
She seemed to be on the way to a happy life: she worked as an interpreter for
the UN and Spanish Chamber of Commerce, had a well-off husband and gave birth
to her daughter and only child in 1974. But then everything fell apart. Her marriage
ended in the courts, and she still claims her ex-husband was having a strange
affair with a cousin in Italy. The man and his family managed to persuade the
judge that Conchita was not a fit mother, so she lost her job, home and even custody
of her daughter. Left with nothing and furious with the system, she decided to
come and demonstrate outside the White House. To no purpose.
It was in Washington she met William Thomas, a militant pacifist, who began a
permanent vigil on the sidewalk outside the White House opposite Lafayette Park
in June 1981. Conchita joined him, but two years later the police made her move
to the other side of the square, because a new law prevented demonstrators from
standing neat the presidential gates. This was just the first of a series of legal
battles that are still going on. Conchita claims to have been arrested seven times.
In an attempt to get troublesome demonstrators to move on by legal means, the
various administrations have tried just about everything: they have set limits
on banners and tents, and even banned people from sleeping in sleeping bags on
the sidewalk. In order to try and fight the legal battles on an even standing,
after a few years Thomas – who has a wife and is called “my colleague” by Conchita
– started handling the legal side and then even set up the coup’s own we site.
Conchita uses Thomas’s study, not far from the White House, as a base for her
everyday needs. She tells that for food “a local bread shop helps me out, they
give me the previous day’s bread”.
Whereas pacifist groups from all over the world generally joined forces with
Conchita over the early years, now she is alone. She is sometimes attacked by
vandals or people who disagree with her political views. She has had her bike
stolen five times while she was asleep. Not everybody is kind: while I am there,
an American mother walks by with her two teenage daughters and they laugh at her.
“Why are you mocking me? - Conchita asks – Your president is a criminal!”. “I
don’t think so, he’s our man”, says the woman in the tone of voice you would use
with your batty old grandmother. Nevertheless, the little Spanish lady is still
an icon for many. She is ready to chat to anybody who stops and reads her banners,
and claims she can speak six languages and hold a simple conversation in many
more. “Are you Koreans? Let’s hope we get a united Korea! Peace”, she says to
some tourists from Seoul. If you ask her where she is from, she will always replay
“I am a citizen of the world”. Somebody tosses some coins into her basket, but
she does not actually ask for anything her self. She tells everybody what her
struggle is about and talks about the four presidents who have been her neighbours
– none of whom have been willing to meet her. Reagan? “How often I got beaten
up”. Bush senior and Clinton? Conchita pulls a face that speaks for itself. “All
the same. Bu this last one is the worst of all”.
stampainvia
Conchita Picciotto has been living opposite the White House since 1981 in protest against nuclear weapons
from our correspondent
Alessandro Ursic
Alessandro Ursic
The United States have had four different presidents since 1981, republican and
democratic. But one thing has not changed opposite no. 1600, Pennsylvania Avenue,
the address of the White House: Concepcion Martin Picciotto, a tiny Spanish lady
who is now sixty years old, twenty-four of which she has spent on her own stubborn,
solitary protest against the world’s leading superpower, in an attempt to draw
people’s attention to the issue of nuclear disarmament. IN summer and in winter,
sunshine or rain, Concepcion is always there inside her tent, surrounded by a
few rags, a bottle of water, newspaper cuttings and Pacifist banners. “Ban all
atomic weapons or have fun on judgement day”, it says on one of them. Lots of
tourists stop and have their photo taken with her, and she is never lost for words..“Where do you come from?”, she asks the Italian journalist. “Ah, Italy. Where from?”, and she bends over
to rummage through a grill she keeps close at hand. A few seconds later she pulls
out a photocopy of an article published in the Repubblica newspaper back in 1988.
It is not the only article abut her: down the years her storey has appeared in
the press all over the world, and not always in flattering terms. It is still
a mystery who Concepcion really is – or Connie, or Conchita, or Concetta, as she
calls her self depending on the nationality of the person speaking to her. For
some she is a heroine, for others an old fool. Her appearance certainly does not
help matters; as well as the smell predictably coming from the tent (which is
her only home), Concepcion’s smile shows all the signs of passing time and poor
hygiene. She has a strange bundle on here head: under a black wig she wears a
helmet, which she only takes off when she goes to sleep, “It is to protect me
against attacks”, so she says. But are not you hot? “Oh yes, really hot. But it
is because of the police, you cannot imagine how many times they have hit me”.Not everything the lady says is probably true. For instance, she claims she always
has a strange soar throat because a toxic gas is sprayed over her at night that
comes from the White House. But there can be no doubt that she has seen a lot
during her lifetime. She arrived in the United States from her homeland Galizia
back in the 1960s and soon married an American business man of Sicilian descent.
She seemed to be on the way to a happy life: she worked as an interpreter for
the UN and Spanish Chamber of Commerce, had a well-off husband and gave birth
to her daughter and only child in 1974. But then everything fell apart. Her marriage
ended in the courts, and she still claims her ex-husband was having a strange
affair with a cousin in Italy. The man and his family managed to persuade the
judge that Conchita was not a fit mother, so she lost her job, home and even custody
of her daughter. Left with nothing and furious with the system, she decided to
come and demonstrate outside the White House. To no purpose.It was in Washington she met William Thomas, a militant pacifist, who began a
permanent vigil on the sidewalk outside the White House opposite Lafayette Park
in June 1981. Conchita joined him, but two years later the police made her move
to the other side of the square, because a new law prevented demonstrators from
standing neat the presidential gates. This was just the first of a series of legal
battles that are still going on. Conchita claims to have been arrested seven times.
In an attempt to get troublesome demonstrators to move on by legal means, the
various administrations have tried just about everything: they have set limits
on banners and tents, and even banned people from sleeping in sleeping bags on
the sidewalk. In order to try and fight the legal battles on an even standing,
after a few years Thomas – who has a wife and is called “my colleague” by Conchita
– started handling the legal side and then even set up the coup’s own we site.
Conchita uses Thomas’s study, not far from the White House, as a base for her
everyday needs. She tells that for food “a local bread shop helps me out, they
give me the previous day’s bread”.Whereas pacifist groups from all over the world generally joined forces with
Conchita over the early years, now she is alone. She is sometimes attacked by
vandals or people who disagree with her political views. She has had her bike
stolen five times while she was asleep. Not everybody is kind: while I am there,
an American mother walks by with her two teenage daughters and they laugh at her.
“Why are you mocking me? - Conchita asks – Your president is a criminal!”. “I
don’t think so, he’s our man”, says the woman in the tone of voice you would use
with your batty old grandmother. Nevertheless, the little Spanish lady is still
an icon for many. She is ready to chat to anybody who stops and reads her banners,
and claims she can speak six languages and hold a simple conversation in many
more. “Are you Koreans? Let’s hope we get a united Korea! Peace”, she says to
some tourists from Seoul. If you ask her where she is from, she will always replay
“I am a citizen of the world”. Somebody tosses some coins into her basket, but
she does not actually ask for anything her self. She tells everybody what her
struggle is about and talks about the four presidents who have been her neighbours
– none of whom have been willing to meet her. Reagan? “How often I got beaten
up”. Bush senior and Clinton? Conchita pulls a face that speaks for itself. “All
the same. Bu this last one is the worst of all”.
Articoli correlati:
Gli argomenti più discussi:
Le parole chiave più ricorrenti:
