Part XIV
Epilogue
THERE HAS BEEN A COMPLETE TRANSFORMATION since 1945. For all its beauty, the old Apulia was a harsh, cruel land, most of whose inhabitants lived a wretchedly hard life. In contrast today’s Apulians have grown rich. Yet the region remains strikingly different from the rest of Italy, with strong echoes from the past – a dramatic folk-piety and even witchcraft surviving in high-rise flats.
The transformation is partly due to “the coming of the water.” Often attributed to the great aqueduct completed by the Duce in 1939, in reality this owes far more to modern wells 200 metres deep; the rainfall in winter has always been high and, as Henry Swinburne observed, it must go somewhere. Not only has the water made life more agreeable for everybody, but it has done wonders for farming. Malaria has been eradicated – before 1945, quinine was part of the staple diet in low-lying areas, but pesticides have wiped out the anopheles mosquito.
The latifondisti now farm the land themselves, using the latest machinery instead of work-gangs. (Several of these gentleman-farmers bear some of the oldest names among those of the historic nobility.) Seventy per cent of Italy’s fruit and vegetables comes from Apulia, while Apulian oil provides a third of the peninsula’s entire output and Apulian wine a sixth. In addition, early vegetables for Northern Europe are grown here on a massive scale. Even so, the old high-wheeled Apulian cart can occasionally be seen, while the short-handled mattock that crippled their fathers is still used by a few peasant smallholders, although these are a fast dwindling breed.
Bari, whose population has risen to 350,000, flourishes so much that Northerners call it the ‘Milan of the South’. Besides producing tyres and other rubber goods on a huge scale, it has factories that specialise in electronics and micro-chips, while the port is busier than ever, playing an increasingly vital role in the commercial life of the Adriatic. The university has a particularly fine record of industrial research, although it is probably best known for a faculty of agriculture from which the entire region benefits. It also supplies Italy with countless lawyers, including many judges and a host of distinguished advocates.
The Feast of St Nicholas is celebrated as devoutly as ever. Nowadays Russian pilgrims come too, his crypt chapel in the basilica resounding with Slavonic chant since he has always been one of the great miracle-workers of Holy Russia. These pilgrims also recall how another St Nicholas (canonised in 2000) prayed here in 1892, when he was still the young Tsarevich.
Mercifully, industrialisation affects only one or two other small areas, such as the steel-works at Tàranto or the oil-refinery at Brìndisi. What really does hurt the landscape, however, are the blocks of hideous high-rise flats, tall, grey and forbidding, that are starting to obscure some of the little white cities.
In many places serious social problems have resulted from moving large numbers of people into flats like these, problems compounded by the spread of drugs since the early 1980s. Another worry is the influx of would-be immigrants who enter from Albania, Montenegro or North Africa; troops based at Bari patrol the coast to intercept them. (If caught, these unfortunate people are treated with considerably more humanity than in other Mediterranean countries.) Yet there is plenty of hope for the future, and with their growing wealth the Apulians feel a justifiable optimism.
Judging from all the books published at Bari, the Apulians must be fascinated by their history. Castles and cathedrals are very well maintained, with an admirable programme of restoration. (Sadly, despite the efforts of the World Monuments Fund this does not apply to the grotto churches, where the frescoes continue to fade). Traditional peasant food, not so long ago considered quite unfit for gentry, now appears in the smartest restaurants. La Cucina Pugliese (The Pugliese Cuisine), based on fish, pasta and vegetables, has seen a triumphant revival, the difference being that while in former days one of its dishes was an entire meal, often a selection of them are now served as an hors d’ oeuvres. Even the Apulian mafia bear a title redolent of history, La Sacra Corona Unità (United Sacred Crown), which seems to hint at memories of the old brigands and the war to save the Mezzogiorno from Northern invasion – although the brigands never dealt in drugs, Russian prostitutes or illegal immigrants – nor did they blow up school children, as happened recently in Brìndisi.
With its low white cliffs along the Adriatic and its long sandy beaches along the Ionian Sea, and with some really excellent hotels, Apulia’s tourist potential is beginning to be exploited. This is scarcely surprising since the region has so many attractive features. It will always be a paradise for everybody interested in classical history or architecture while, if reserved, its charming inhabitants seem to welcome visitors.
Although hardships of the sort described in our book are fortunately a thing of the past, they have bequeathed some very impressive qualities. Amongst them is an awe-inspiring capacity for grinding hard work and a razor-sharp instinct for survival, which will ensure Apulia’s success in the difficult new Europe.