Once upon a time there was “the Seeker,” an individual who wandered the world with an obsession: to find humankind. He didn’t quite know what it was, whether a lost object, an endangered species, or a secret ingredient for happiness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Could anthropology help him? A word that gave him a headache, probably one of those disciplines that deal with boring things like monkeys and ancient bones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Could he find something in the news broadcasts that tell about the world? Only numbers and tragedies, chaos and fear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Was the solution in the talk shows where everyone talks? They are more monologues than anything else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In church? It wasn’t the divine he was looking for but its opposite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At work? No, not at work!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the park? Dogs, after all, are men’s best friends. Men can’t say the same, though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Whenever the Seeker had a doubt, he asked for advice from him, Gilberto, an ancient soul trapped in a… let’s say, “vintage” body. A character you won’t find in history books, but who deserves to be told about.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After almost thirty years of knowing, frequenting, and chatting, the Seeker could indeed write his biography.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Born in the 1930s in Alexandria, Egypt, currently residing in the remote Roman suburbs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Former student of the Torquato Tasso high school in Rome, where education was so rigorous as to be equivalent to a degree, Gilberto is an explosive mix of philosopher in pectore, chess champion, miniature artist of caravels and galleons to give as gifts to friends, and wizard of repairs of any object with an electrical plug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Having obtained his diploma as a professional nurse, he left with the UN medical unit for the remote Belgian Congo, which wanted independence from Belgium and where the reasons for the war mingled with the usual economic interests in a territory where copper, gold, and diamonds were certainly not lacking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He settled in the vicinity of Elizabethville (now Lubumbashi), from ’60 to ’64, in the UN camp that was supposed to pacify the warring parties. The organization, to bring peace, occasionally had to use strong-arm tactics. Irony of fate, right?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And this was the price to pay for doctors and nurses like him who kept away from weapons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Seeker: Have you ever handled a weapon?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gilberto: Unfortunately, yes, and I hated all weapons precisely because I knew them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They kept away from weapons, but Gilberto and his medical group, contravening the camp’s directives, did not hesitate to go out, to discover the harsh reality of war made of suffering and poverty. A group of young men in the heart of Africa among fierce animals and local inhabitants who hated the white man more than anything else. Around the camp were located several villages called New Bidonville, distinguished only by a number, and so called because of the roofs of their dwellings made with fuel barrels; the villages were many, they were all the same, and in each one lived the hunger and anger of a people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Seeker: Okay, the UN mission to help and heal, but why did you go out there, alone, without an escort and exposed to danger?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gilberto: Because we are Italians and all the guys in my group had a heart this big, and there our mission was to maintain a high level of humanity!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And so it was that little by little, approaching the first village, he met Samuel, a Congolese from the nearby Bidonville.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The second meeting was a bit less traumatic, a sort of speed date between different cultures, where they exchanged questioning glances and a few words in French.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But from the third meeting onwards, Gilberto and his gang of Robin Hoods in white coats decided to take action. And so, every night, the UN camp turned into an open-air supermarket, where boxes of food mysteriously disappeared, destined to feed the people of Samuel, the king of Bidonville.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And so two tribes were born, the UN guys and the inhabitants of Bidonville. They were linked to each other, each one surviving thanks to the other, because if those reckless guys could wander around unarmed and without running risks outside the UN camp, it was precisely because in a certain sense they had earned respect with their work and were accepted despite not having black skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No white man was ever allowed to enter Bidonville; Gilberto crossed that border, and he remembers the exact date and time of the day it happened because on that occasion he risked his own life, but saved another by delivering Samuel’s son.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was an encounter that shook the boundaries between two worlds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Seeker, at the very moment he was talking to Gilberto, had found the solution: he was the solution.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And so, between anecdotes and stories worthy of an adventure novel, Gilberto reveals himself as a hero without a cloak, a man who has understood everything about life without ever reading a self-help book. He asks existential questions like Margareth Mead, such as “How can I not become a caveman?”, and finds brilliant answers, such as “I deliver babies and steal food from the UN”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maria Giubettini<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mao<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Once upon a time there was “the Seeker,” an individual who wandered the world with an obsession: to find humankind. He didn’t quite know what it was, whether a lost object, an endangered species, or a secret ingredient for happiness. Could anthropology help him? A word that gave him a headache, probably one of those […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":6660,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6662","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n