How many people, how many names to remember (Elisa, Francesca, Katiuscia, those of the Pro Loco, Gigliola, Angelo, Luigi, Ferruccio, Lello, Davide), all available for me.
And so we begin the tour of the town: urban views, a portico that connects two houses, the white limestone, the parish church of San Pietro, epitaphs on stones rounded by time, sixteenth-century tombs under the floors, a retable from 1628, an ancient organ, the bronze way of the cross by the sculptor Argiolas from Dolianova, the little church of Mercy.
And then the municipal park, the 1930s washhouse, the Is Muracesus spring, a mural by Tellas at the sports field where a girl trains.
And then a lot of archeology: excavations in a Roman site, the monumental Byzantine tomb in the hamlet of Villagreca, the old medieval village of Siuttas, the protonuraghe Sa Corona.
It is a miracle that I manage to make a leap to the registry office of the municipality where I find the birth certificate of my maternal grandmother Margherita, born here almost by chance during the teaching years of her mother Pietrina, who moved here from Gergei.
At sunset I look at the constellation of Campidano villages from the limestone hills in the surroundings, ancient coral atolls: the natural lights of the sunset and the artificial ones blend into a thousand shades.
SARDINIAN SHORT STORIES
Giampaolo Salice, professor of Modern History at the University of Cagliari, talks about his vision of Nuraminis, his hometown:
“My first real glimpse of Nuraminis was given to me by a shepherd. He was my grandfather. They called him Maximinu, because he was the youngest of his family.
One day he came to pick me out of school. I was eleven. He took me to the highest hill in the town, which the Nuraminesi incorrectly call Su Padru (the meadow). He took a can of sardines, bread, two tomatoes out of his saddlebag. We ate sitting at the top of the hill, in silence. The wind shook the tall grass, further down to the west the still green wheat formed waves upon waves.
In front of us, at our feet, there was Nuraminis, as I had never seen it. The village seemed to me at the same time familiar and unknown, near and far, small and large. I could not understand why houses and streets, hitherto familiar and obvious, could suddenly appear unknown and mysterious to me.
The inhabited area was not large, but the land all around it did reach the horizon line. All that space that I held for the first time in a single glance was ours. It was us. ”
The story continues HERE (in Italian).