Two texts from Luca Dolce, aka Stecco: “Beating on cell bars in solidarity in the prison of Sanremo” and “Trieste: the death of an excluded”
Beating on cell bars in solidarity
May 4th, from 8.15pm to 9pm I did a battitura [beating metal object on cell bars] in solidarity with the comrades arrested during the night between 3rd and 4th May in Genoa and imprisoned in the jails of Marassi and Pontedecimo.
Today is the anniversary of Bobby Sands’ death in 1981, the Irish revolutionary who taught dignity in the prison struggle. It is right that this anniversary be remembered.
I also dedicated this small gesture to all the comrades struck by the repression these past few weeks concerning the solidarity carried out in the streets during the mobilisation for Alfredo Cospito and against 41-bis. To you my fraternal greetings with clenched fist!
I take this opportunity to express my closeness to Alfredo, Anna and Juan for the recent heavy sentences.
Prison is not the end of the struggle and solidarity but is its strengthening and continuation.
05/05/2024
Prison of Sanremo
Luca Dolce aka Stecco
* From what I have been told, the prison of Pontedecimo is a place dedicated to prisoners under protection.
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Trieste: the death of an excluded
A few weeks ago I received news of the death of an old childhood friend. I hadn’t seen him for years, and we hadn’t been in touch for a long time.
When I was a young boy he lived with his grandmother in an old council house of Opicina on the Carso of Trieste, one of those built in the fifties for the Istrian exiles.
He had no parents; unfortunate in life, he suffered solitude and I remember how many, in the ignorance of the very young, would have a go at him because he was the poorest, the saddest, the loneliest. He reacted in his own way to this finger pointed at him, to this judgment, this lack of affection he received.
I remember his often frowning face well, but if taken in friendship as you do among boys, he gave you big smiles that put aside any wrong, as should be done among carefree boys and girls who grow up in this world without having their asses covered by mummy and daddy’s money. And in that neighbourhood none of us was.
I don’t know anything about his life over the last twenty years, but I always thought of him as a good guy unlucky in life.
It’s the way he died that pushes me to write these words in anger.
The friends who gave me the sad news tell me that he died because he had an accident with the boiler in his flat. His gas had been cut off because he couldn’t pay his bills, and so he had made a connection himself to cook and keep warm during this past winter.
They also told me that there was practically nobody at his funeral, you couldn’t even count them on the fingers of one hand.
Who was Jan? Who will remember him?
He will not end up on any lists of deaths at work, nor of those dying at the front in war – precisely for that gas that they made us dependent on for two essential needs: cooking and heating. There is no list for Jan to be put on.
Who is the bureaucrat – or algorithm – that cut off his gas supply because he couldn’t pay the bill?
Is there anyone who has understood the violence of this death that comes from above, in this society of rich and poor?
As an anarchist I will not remember and do not mourn those who leave this world after spreading ignorance, selfishness, arrogance for their own private purposes, putting others under their heel. I want to remember a lonely man, forgotten, who leaves no trace in the history books, but embodies that of many many excluded, of which History is full.
Of him, yes I will hold on to his memory because he was the last of the last, because such a story should unite those who risk the same fate, who undergo the same suffering, who, full of ignorance today, transform it into an awareness that leads to identifying the heartless bosses who live in opulence, in indifference towards their neighbour.
Today the trumpets of war are calling to arms, where behind the mask soiled with the blood of “good” democratic Europe, lie only the interests of those who have Power while their massacres are concealed. All this to have the energy to carry out poisonous belligerent production, harmful in many respects, so as to feed their privileges and their interests.
From here arise the profits of bosses who exploit men like Jan, like us, and have no problem in abandoning and isolating them at the first signs of difficulty, meanwhile indifference still reigns among the exploited. Class solidarity must come back to being a value, a deep feeling, once again.
Damnation to the managers and CEO’s of big companies such as Eni, Enel, Endesa, their military, which defend their profits; the whole political class, which approves the financing and strategies, justifying the propaganda, ever more warlike and passed off as rotten patriotism.
May the silence of this death prepare avenging assault in the hearts of the excluded at the gates of those who, in their villas, their apartments with the thermometre at 25° in winter while they feast on our lives then instruct us on how to consume gas.
If they take a friend from us, we will come knocking on their door.
I won’t forget this, which for me is a murder at the hands of the bosses.
04/05/2024, Prison of Sanremo
Luca Dolce aka Stecco
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via: https://lanemesi.noblogs.org/post/2024/05/17/due-testi-di-luca-dolce-detto-stecco-su-una-battitura-solidale-nel-carcere-di-sanremo-e-trieste-la-morte-di-un-escluso/
Translated by Act for freedom now!