SHORT STORY | TRAVEL MEMOIRS
The Sound of Silence…The Palermitano Hustle
When Something just doesn’t seem right…
Something didn’t sound right.
Have you ever had that sensation?
It was blatant come to think of it. It was so obvious it was presumptuous.
I was arranging a ride for the family from Palermo to a winery and was enquiring about the cost. I know the Sicilians are notorious for hustle, but I didn’t imagine it would be the type that implied I had the words:
“SUCKER”
Imprinted on my forehead in BOLD.
I called the number the winery had provided. It was a tour company with whom they “collaborated”. She added a disclaimer that they were not involved in the service nor setting the cost.
The phone rang and I made my enquiry.
He hesitated.
“That’ll be 140 Euros.” As his words slowly seeped away then added “And 140 Euro back.”
Wow, that’s steep I thought.
Silence, as he waited for my response.
I wish I could have looked him in the eye. Alas, we are on the phone. Now it was my time to hesitate. Mine had a different purpose.
Incredulous.
The distance was the same if not less complicated than my journey to Heathrow. We were in Palermo, and the price was over double.
I was still trying to figure out why when he made a counteroffer.
“100 Euros each way since you’ve been sent by the winery.”
Under different circumstances, I would’ve usually made my offer, but my instinct told me to refrain. I don’t know if engaging would have led to an implicit consensus. I preferred to ponder how badly I needed the taxi and decided not that desperately.
Not enough to give the satisfaction.
There it was again — that feeling…
The following day, I visited the Vucciria market in the Kalsa area of Palermo, meaning confusion in Sicilian. It has been around since the Arabs invaded Sicily. Living up to the name, we ventured into a side street leading up to a small uneven cobbled square called Piazza Garrafello where hawkers and fish vendors were setting up shop. The collapsed, derelict buildings add to the charm giving tourists the authentic feel conjured up in their minds when they think of Italian movies like The Godfather.
Anything less is disappointing.
Sicily is known for its blood-red Mazara prawns. Melt in your mouth delicacy best eaten raw. Not easy to find and I was happy that we had stumbled across them. A merchant invited me to try one.
I asked him for the price. And there it was- he hesitated.
He looked at me without batting an eyelid,
“40 euro a kilo” as his voice evaporated.
There it was again. The sensation that I had felt not so long ago.
Why did I feel he was not convinced? I for sure was not.
This time I could look him in the eye.
I asked him to repeat.
Again hesitation…
Then a gesture of the hand raised in unison to cover one eye as he repeated,
“40 euro a kilo” and waited to see my reaction.
It wasn’t my imagination. I greeted him with silence as I decided to enter the dance.
“That’s a little steep,” I remark.
“35 euro a kilo” almost immediately. Perhaps he had exaggerated somewhat.
Too easy the counteroffer.
“I think you can do better.”
We arrive at 30Euro a kilo.
I am satisfied with the barter and seal the deal.
Hustle of a Different Kind
Resigning this to be the order of the day, I moved on to the vegetable stall.
I was greeted by a different kind of hustle.
It wasn’t economic. I wasn’t in the mood.
I spotted some chard which I knew to be in season.
“The small chard or the bigger one?” I asked the elderly trader.
“The bigger one.”
Wanting to engage in conversation since smaller ones are usually tender, I ask why.
The trader became irritated.
Unhappy with the question he answered, “I said this is better,” raising his voice.
My sister was taken aback and asked whether this behaviour was normal.
His words were final with no intention to explain.
I reflected on what just happened.
The reaction was strange.
Was the desired effect of raising his voice to intimidate?
Perhaps he just didn’t like his authority being challenged or was it because the challenge came from a woman?
We were in Sicily after all.
Southern Italy is notorious for Patriarchy. Having spent several years in Northern Italy, there is a constant unresolved antagonism to the South. Situations like these are just one of the reasons why. There has been little progress and I hope the new generation can bring about changes.
The Sound of Silence
The intricate web of words, gestures and acts of silence intrigued me to write this article.
I am not from Sicily but, understanding the meaning by interpreting felt important. Not only how things were expressed but what was not.
The girl at the winery was somewhat subtle when asked if there were other taxi firms in the vicinity. She responded there were but they had a “collaboration” with this particular company. She didn’t have to say anymore. She felt the need however to distance herself from any discussion revolving around tariffs. An assurance of neutrality perhaps. The holding company is based on the other side of Italy bordering Switzerland.
Euphemisms, however, demand insider knowledge and application.
It is said the Mafia is fighting for survival. The last known boss Messina Denaro, died in prison in 2023. It is unknown if a successor was appointed but many former bosses have offspring.
After the Catholic Church, the Mafia is historically the longest-lasting institution in Italy. It is difficult to imagine that the ways and influences of the “Cosa nostra” do not still run through the veins of many who live there.
In a land of complex cultures, Tommaso Buscetta turned informer in July 1984, summed it up best to Judge Giovanni Falcone in a debriefing setting in motion the Palermo Maxi trial of 1986–7, which saw over 400 Mafia suspects tried.
Buscetta revealed to Giovanni Falcone: “In my world, no one ever asks anything, but if someone wants to, he can make you understand with just a sentence, a movement of the head, a smile…even with silence.”
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