A Drink Too Much

Silvana Demarco

A day that changed my life.

When I was a child, in the village of Atina in the region of Lazio in central Italy, everyone from the oldest to the youngest in the community were involved in the harvest during the summer months.

First we would cut the crops, tie them in bunches then put them up straight and leave them until they were ready to be harvested. Then we would pick them all up and make a big pile in the middle of the yard and once everything was in place we called for the big harvester to come.

The children were looking forward to the day; the big red tractor with the harvester was something that we didn't see every day. We were all exited. Under a blazing sun it was buzzing like a bees nest, people going in all the directions, but everyone doing exactly his own job.

That particular day of my life was a sunny summer day in 1967 and we started early in the coolness of the morning. All the family were there, some neighbours and some friends helped, everyone had their own job to do, even the children.

We were wearing old clothes - mismatched long sleeved shirts, trousers and scarves to protect ourselves from the dust and from the jaggy straw, that would otherwise leave our arms all scratched, and with the dust and the sweat we would have infected wounds.

The women were at the end where the straw was coming out pressed into bales, they had to pick them up and put them into the barn. The men were at the heavy work, they had to empty the cylinder measuring the wheat into big sacks and store inside for the winter, the older men had the easiest job of all, they just threw the bunch of wheat into the harvester. At six years old my job was to help my mum with the lunch.

It was very warm and very very dusty and everybody drink a lot, but most of us drank water fresh from the tap. Some of the men preferred to drink wine, and by the end two or three of them were drunk and started a fight for no reason at all with my uncle. They picked up a rope and tried to tie my uncle to a tree but he fought back as he was a big man and eventually with the help of others he freed himself and ran away.

It was very scary; I remember crying because I was terrified of what these men could do to my uncle. One thing I could not understand was: why they had picked on him, what did he do wrong?

The memory of that day is still with me today. Growing up I never touched a drop of alcohol for many years, and now I only drink sometimes a little glass of wine during meals.

Even today when I see a drunken person I regress to that terrible day of many years ago, and I get the same scary feeling I had then.

Today as many years ago I cannot understand why people have to drink themselves stupid.

We can have a good time and enjoy ourselves without having to empty bottles of beers, wine or other alcohol.

That child of many years ago is just like the children of today, scared and horrified by this sort of adult behaviour, which seems now to have become so popular even with the younger generations.

Why parents are putting their own and their children lives at risk by drinking and let them drink too much?