33 - Virginia Waite, "Sardinia" (1977)

Virginia Waite, Sardinia, The Pitman Press, London: 1977

 

Sardinia gives the impression of being several countries, although it is small enough to drive from one end to the other in a day. It manages this by a mixture of geographical, historical and linguistic factors, all of which can fool the absent-minded visitor into believing he must be somewhere else. Surely the people are speaking Spanish, not Italian? They certainly are in the northern port of Alghero which was a Spanish colony. Meanwhile up in the mountains the keep Latin scholar will get on famously, and indeed to speak Italian here can actually be a disadvantage, for the wary nomadic shepherds in these remote areas will then mistake you for an ‘enemy,’ which to them is anyone from the mainland. Their Latin heritage dates from Roman times.

Down in the south, North Africa appears to have drifted 120 miles and attached itself to two Sardinian islands, complete with mosque-like churches and regional dishes such as couscous, for here the first settlers came from Tunisia. Such complexities can make for a bewildering initial encounter, until you realize that the typical Sard sub-divides into dozens of different typical Sards and that each area, with the highest patriotism, sees itself in a specially privileged position, as ‘an island within an island.’

One reason for these distinct population divisions is the topography of the island. The coastal areas were most vulnerable to attack and subjugation, hence their dialects reflecting the conquerors. The central mountain range rising to just over 6,000 feet was the refuge against those attacks and remains an impenetrable misty region. So it is no surprise that the early cave-dwelling Sards up here became expert guerrillas – and still are today, to the frustration of the Italian carabinieri trying to combat the banditry that has been endemic since Roman times.

The Romans concentrated on the two aspects of Sardinia that could bring them revenue: agriculture, in which the rolling cornfields of the Campidano plain became the Imperial granary of Rome; and mining, in which they monopolized the market by the simple expedient of prohibiting anyone connected with the industry other than themselves, from visiting the island. Both livelihoods flourish today, with expansion of farming between the two world wars through the reclamation of swamp land. To the early precious metals of silver, gold, lead and copper have been added zinc, antimony, coal – providing Italy’s only natural supply – and fluorspar, the most important source in Europe.

Economically, the most important post-war help the island has received from the mainland has come, as in Sicily, from the Italian Government development scheme, the Cassa per il Mezzogiorno, with money being pumped in for new businesses, training of workers and so on. Typically, though, the Sards themselves seem to remain fairly ungrateful for the handouts and complain that it is other people who get the money and the benefits. One of them put it like this: ‘We still feel oppressed and believe it is the continentals – that is those from Italy – who get the loans and the subsequent profits.’ Furthermore, the Sards are also divided on the thorny question of who is being aided and there is continuing friction between the mountain shepherds, who point to the plains farmers as the recipients, and the lowland folk who are equally convinced that the lucky ones are the land-owning uplanders.

Lack of work has ever been a problem and has resulted in migration to Germany and the United States. Now, in at least one area – the Costa Smeralda, the international luxury playground established by the Aga Khan and his friends in the north-east coast – the immigrants are coming home. The barren region they left, capable of supporting only a few shepherds and fishermen, has moved into the twentieth century with piped water and all amenities, including jobs.

The other barrier to work in the early days was malaria, the disease brought in by the Carthaginians. The campaign to eradicate it was organized by the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Association, under the sponsorship of the Rockefeller Foundation of the United States. Teams of Americans, Britons and Sards literally bathed the island’s stagnant water and houses with anti-malarial disinfectant over a period of six years. Today the fading D.D.T. stamp can be seen everywhere, and though there is no longer a population of yellow weakened faces, the older women continue to drape their headscarves across their mouths, the ancient precaution against the disease.

It was during the malaria campaign that Sardinia gained its current degree of autonomy, with a junta that handles almost all domestic policies, though Italy controls custom and excise, railways, armed forces and most of the police. Each of the four provinces of Cagliari, Sassari, Nuoro and Oristano have an important say in administering their own areas, which is not only sensible but vital, as they cannot all necessarily understand each other’s dialect and sometimes need to turn to Italian as a common tongue. More than 100 years ago an English barrister, John Warre Tyndale, who produced a meticulous three-volume survey of Sardinia, wrote: ‘Italian is used in official transactions and by the higher classes; and with a knowledge of that language, Latin and Spanish, a stranger may soon understand the native tongue.’

This language mixture has not changed since, though without Tyndale’s linguistic ability the native tongue is not easy to grasp. Logudorese means gold place and it is the nearest to pure Latin spoken in the north-west, with the disconcerting addition of Alghero’s Spanish. In the mountains the dialect is Sardo, which any reincarnated Roman would understand. In the north-east the early Pisan domination has produced a sweet lilting language similar to that spoken in Tuscany, except that the archipelago nearby shows French influence from Corsica just across the water. The southern off-shore islands, on the other hand, derive their language from the Genoese.

Many Sards, as a consequence, speak better Italian than the Italians, because they have kept this second language pure and uncorrupt. To sum up a true Sard among the one and a half million of them is almost impossible. One marvelously partisan viewpoint describes them like this:

The Sardinian has not possessed the social and political instinct of the vast community. His is the individual instinct which imperiously asserts his authority over the family group. In the family, the Sardinian is the undisputed head; outside the family relationship he is not prepared to admit the authority of a law alien to traditional and local custom.

 

It is a somewhat ornate summing-up of a character that quite simply believes in its own rightness. A small anecdote illustrates the theme. When a householder asked her gardener to plant the gladioli bulbs she had saved for this purpose from the previous year, he assured her they would never come up and put them reluctantly. They did, but the triumph was short-lived. An identical argument ensued the following year because, as the gardener pointed out, the first success was a million-to-one chance and could never happen again.

The Sard belief that he alone knows the answer can lead to highly entertaining scenes. Before one of the island’s famous festivals I was noting down costume detail, and when it came to the long sheepskin jacket worn by some of the men my interpreter confidently announced its name. He was immediately contradicted by the wearer of the jacket whose suggested name was, in turn, dismissed by others in the group. An animated argument began in which no definitive name for the garment was agreed upon. Tyndale, so many years ago, had the same problem, trying to identify an ancient site he was visiting. One peasant gave him the ‘right’ name, another passing by refuted and produced a second, to be dismissed by a third peasant with yet another version.

Like me and the costume, Tyndale gave up and went on to describe what he actually saw, which was an example of quite the most interesting and unique aspect of Sardinia’s history: the period from 1500 B.C. when the Proto-Sards lived on the island. Evidence of their occupation is overwhelming, yet not one word did they write down. Their settlements, of which there are still something like 000, are called nuraghe, which could translate as height or habitation, both being equally applicable. Today’s ruins show the visitor magnificent fortresses with truncated cones, which have lasted much longer than any Roman buildings, for the simple reason that they are built of blocks of basalt taken from extinct volcanoes and impervious to erosion or decay.

The central towers, most experts agree, were the defensive structure in which the inhabitants of the outlying village could take refuge in times of trouble. They were built, over a period of 1000 years, in the manner of the Egyptians pyramids, so that the stones were rolled up an earth ramp, the ramp going higher as the building did until it was finally, literally, unearthed from its surrounds. In addition to the nuraghe, there are from the same period, burial sites called Domus the Janas (witches’ houses) – grottoes hollowed out of the rock face – and for collective burial, the Giants’ Tombs; both types of constructions contain corridors and chambers and have a rather sinister aspect, though they have no discernible links with their names.

Apart from their buildings, the Proto-Sards left behind their utensils – axes, arrows, ceramics and so on – plus one spectacular bonus: hundreds upon hundreds of bronze statuettes to tell the story of their lives, which are now safely displayed in the museums of Cagliari and Sassari. Exactly when the nuraghic peoples finally disappeared is not known, but certainly by the time of the Roman occupation the villages and fortresses had been either destroyed or buried and the inhabitants fled.

Sardinia is said to have been named after a Livyan called Sardus, though some historians claim it evolved from Sandaliota, meaning sandal, after its shape. What is not in dispute is that the Phoenicians established trading stations around 800 B.C. and founded colonies on the southern end of the island, attracted by the good anchorages and the need to find stop-over points on their seagoing routes. But it was the aggressive Carthaginians who first came up against the independent Sard spirit around 560 B.C. and found it took more than one attempt and much force to subdue the islanders.

These conquerors were anything but benevolent. They not only banished the remaining inhabitants from all the fertile areas, but propounded the severest penalties for anyone found growing anything. However, the Sards gained something from their tyrants. They learnt how to read and write, how to use money and how valuable land was. They also saw the horse for the first time, and experienced malaria, a not-so-convenient import. Although Rome and Carthage had originally been friendly, their relations changed to antagonism, which led to warfare on Sardinian soil and the victors moved in to take over in 238 B.C., making the island the first Roman province and Cagliari a port of the Roman fleet.

Their rule was hardly less severe than that of their predecessors and something like 150,000 Sards were slain or taken captive to Rome over a period of less than 150 years. They carried on agriculturally where the Carthaginians left off, and in this they were so successful that they had to build special granaries in Rome for receiving the island’s corn. They also used Sardinia as a convenient dumping ground for exiles, among whom numbered 4000 Jews and Egyptians. The Sards retaliated by swooping down from their mountain caves in guerrilla raids.

The general Roman opinion of the Sard was, naturally, uncomplimentary. Cicero described them as the most deceitful of nations, and it was even suggested that their two-faced approach was the origin of the phrase a sardonic smile. (In fact its derivation is rather less whimsical: the islanders mistook an inedible wild parsley for an edible version and the symptoms of eating it led to contraction of the face muscles into a grimace.)

About the only real benefit the Sards derived from the 700 year-long Roman occupation was the building of roads and bridges, some of which are still in use. Following the decline of the Roman Empire, Sardinia passed to new oppressors – the Vandals, briefly the Goths; and then the Byzantines who were, however, too far away to control events absolutely, which gave both the Saracens and the Lombards endless opportunities for raiding parties. None of these contenders seem to have had any real effect on the sards who took two main steps to protect and advance themselves. In the ninth century they became a part of the Roman See, while, around the same time, they were busy organizing their own form of self-government with four giudice, or judges, of the island.

Although there are no records of the first elections, it is clear that these early rulers were chosen from rich and influential people, and the vote – unusual for those days – was extended to the general populace. One theory was that the giudice evolved from a Byzantine viceroy who elected himself to the post in order to increase his powers as he was, conveniently, so far away from his bosses. Another is that during the invasions of the Saracens and the Lombards the islanders rallied round their own leaders in various regions. Whatever the origin, the system of government lasted for something like 600 years, often limited in power by external events and by the fact that the giudice did not always rule in peaceful co-existence. There was also the trying intervention of the Pisans and the Genoese and it was the Pope, on the pretext of restoring law and order to the island, who ‘invited’ these contenders to invade Sardinia.

Actually the Pisans and the Genoese did combine to get rid of the Saracens in 1022, but from then on fought each other, totally disregarding the Sards, for something like 300 years, though on a number of occasions they had to contend with the natives who, if it seemed they would benefit, offered to help one side or the other in return for continuing occupation of their lands and properties. When the Pisans fell out with the Pope towards the end of the thirteenth century, the Papal See reassumed its right to dispose of the island as it willed under the earlier allegiance of the Sards and transferred Sardinia to the Aragon crown.

It took the Aragonese almost a century to dominate the entire island, but once installed they were to remain for nearly 400 years, and again the rulers of Sardinia had no intention of improving the lot of the natives. Indeed in the vital port of Alghero they calmly banished the entire population and replaced it with their own Spanish colony. Nothing historically important happened for more than a couple of centuries, although the printing press was introduced and the university of Cagliari founded. The Jesuits arrived, and so did the Spanish Inquisition, which led to the expulsion of the Jews originally exiled here by the Romans.

The War of the Spanish Succession ended their domination and, by a treaty signed in London in the early eighteenth century, the island was handed to the Duke of Savoy who accepted the title of King of Sardinia, although the capital, Turin, was in Piedmont. By 1720 it was formally in the hands of the House of Savoy. The new Sardinian King, Vittorio Amedeo II, was in fact liked by the Sards and he did make a start on long-overdue reforms and a lifting of some of the oppressions.

But he reigned for only ten years before abdicating in favor of his son. Why he gave up the crown has never been made clear. It could have been that his turncoat dealings with France and Austria got out of hand; it could have been the constant threats of war; it could have been the loss of his queen and his re-marriage to an ambitious countess who had been maid-of-honor to his first wife. Certainly, the announcement in September 1730, came as a surprise not only in his ministers and court but to his daughter-in-law, the Princess of Piedmont, who became queen while his son, Carlo Emanuele III, took over the kingship.

It was a decision Amedeo II came to regret and when his exile in Chambery began to bore him he made, under pressure from his new wife, a foolish and stupid attempt to recover his throne. These plans reached Carlo Emanuele and there followed difficult and emotional meetings between father and son, the older not aware that the younger knew of the plot. At one stage Amedeo even demanded his son’s abdication. There could be only one end. Carlo Emanuele signed a warrant for his father’s arrest. The old man died a couple of years later and his countess spent the rest of her life in a convent.

Once the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle had been signed in 1748, ensuring peace in Italy, Carlo Emanuele III was able to devote himself to the affairs of his kingdom in Sardinia. He was the first man in that island’s history who cared about his dominion, and actually set about improving the lot of the people. He was an austere, formal man, who not only reduced his personal expenses but appointed a commission to ‘persuade’ others to do the same. Although he was a strict man who demanded high standards, far from being resented, he was emulated by his court, while the idle aristocracy, probably for the first time in their lives, found that they became employed in civil positions when they were not fighting on the king’s behalf.

Carlo Emanuele’s attention, however, was by no means restricted to those of his own kind. His reduction of expenses enabled him to give generously – and he expected everyone else in a financially sound position to do so likewise. He encouraged the arts and sciences; he was a meticulous and conscientious though not brilliant soldier; he extended and improved in many different areas – commerce, agriculture, education, judiciary, volunteer guard corps and so on; and he even tried to solve the bandit question by resettling depopulated areas. Stern, proud, aloof though he was, when he died in 1774 at the age of 72 after a rule lasting close to half a century, the Sards had every reason to be grateful to him.

The next golden age was not to come their way until the end of the monarchy, though to be fair to the succeeding Sardinian kings external circumstances were largely to blame for the ensuing disasters. The first of these ‘circumstances’ was Napoleon, who, in a sharp two-week campaign in 1793 annihilated the King of Sardinia’s troops and deprived him of his arsenal, stores, most of his friends and most of his titles; the king died a few months later, in a state of bankruptcy. Even during his short reign the king’s actions seemed to have been designed to antagonize the Sards, for he brought the hated Piedmontese to run the administration, and it took a Sard rebellion before the king agreed that the islanders could have the right to elect their own officials. Typically, the Sards fell out amongst themselves with this new freedom and perhaps it was partly their internal squabbles that led to the abdication of the next kings.

Two Aragonese brothers followed and ruled consecutively, until both abdicated leaving a third brother who managed to stay the course and at least made some attempt to help his people. The final monarch of the House of Savoy succeeded in 1831 and set about the abolition of feudalism. There were a series of royal proclamations and two decrees, one appointing a commission to decide exactly how much, in money or goods, the peasants should pay the barons, and the second an attempt to transfer land from lord to peasant.

It was an excellent theory, but one which for a number of years failed to produce its intended benefit; the peasants found themselves having to pay just as much if not more to the crown as they had done to the barons, added to which they were so much in debt that they were in no position to cease being serfs. In any case, they showed the Sard antagonism to any change. The control of the House of Savoy over the island’s destiny ended with the formal unification of Sardinia with Italy in 1861.

So the Sards have had just over 100 years to become themselves, to rediscover their own character and independence, though in truth it has been only half buried during the centuries of invasions and rule by others. Two traits that have never altered are their courtesy and hospitality. The former, though, can have its drawbacks because it comes an insistence on telling you what they think you want to know, rather than the precise truth. The young son of a kidnapped industrialist who had been murdered by his abductors was firmly told by the servants that his father had only been injured. He turned to his American mother to say: ‘You, I know, will tell me the truth.’

Sard hospitality is rightly renowned and it is no use inviting one of them to lunch and expecting to pay for the meal. Equally, when visiting homes, the stranger will be passed from house to house like a fragile parcel, and the circuit can be endless. Old customs, though, are dying out. A decade ago girls and boys could only look at each other and not speak or write without their parents’ permission. Now the youngsters may toe the line in their home town, but there is a good deal more flexibility when they are out of sight of their elders and discotheques are nearly as common as elsewhere in Europe.

Courtship, however, is another matter. The young man’s parents call upon the young girl’s parents to give each other’s permission for the couple to meet, and it is still vital that the prospective bridegroom provides a home, complete with furniture, before the wedding can take place, which is why you see so many younger brides with older men.

It is surprising in many ways that the traditional customs have lasted this long, for Sardinia is now most well connected to the outside world by air and sea. The exclusive Costa Smeralda is served by its own airline flying in to nearby Olbia, and there are two other international airports, Fertilia for Alghero and Sassari in the north, and Elmas for the capital, Cagliari, in the south, though there is one aspect of your arrival and departure at the latter which may surprise you.

Elmas airport, up until 1975, is only half-operating for much of the time, which means that flights are diverted without warning to the air force base at Decimomannu a half hour’s drive away. The first inkling you get is after checking in your luggage and being handed a bus ticket. You discover there is not a plane in sight and, ominously, a long distance coach is sitting outside. In fact it does not delay you much and at the base, in a converted hangar, is a temporary security check. Take-off does not take precedence over military jets. There is one other point of value to air travelers, particularly if there should be any delay when changing planes at Milan or Rome. The leg to Sardinia is an internal Alitalia domestic flight and so serves no refreshments whatsoever irrespective of the time of day. A cup of coffee and a sandwich while awaiting the connection is a wise precaution.

Motorists can bring their car by ferry to Cagliari from the Italian mainland, Sicily and Tunis; or to Porto Torres, Olbia and Arbatax from Italy; or to Santa Teresa di Gallura from Corsica. In addition there are local boats connecting Sardinia with its off-shore islands in the south, Sant’Antioco and San Pietro, and its northern archipelago centered upon La Maddalena. Local tourist offices will supply a handy timetable of all these, plus train and bus services. Do not, however, expect an up to date version. I arrived the day before a new one should have been available, it was not, and never became so. But it does not make too much difference because to turn up for a nonexistent ferry merely means a 30-minute wait in the nearest café. An essential item is the three-part maps put out by the Italian Touring Club and available only in Italy or London—not in Sardinia.

The climate is western Mediterranean, claiming nine months sunshine per year, but the mountains were still snow-covered in late May on my visit and the prevailing north-west maestrale was blowing, though this is much preferable to the hot scirocco from the south-east. One bonus for the visitor is that it does not matter where you begin. The historical mosaic – or perhaps maze would be a better word – does not require making a circuit in a particular order and you can choose those facets and regions of the island that interest you.

Perhaps it will be the craggy coastline, quite a lot of which is reachable only by boat, and a paradise for gogglers and skin-divers as well as yachtsmen who have several havens in amongst the treacherous rocks that thwarted early invading sailors. Those parts of the shore with beaches are moving fast into the twentieth century, but by comparison with some crowded Mediterranean coasts it is still spacious. A London barber, for instance, was rather disappointed with his sun, sand and sea Sardinian holiday, complaining that the island was not developed enough. If the coast hides its treasures, such as the spectacular grottoes, the interior is equally shy. Some of the mountain caves require an expedition to explore, which is why they made such excellent hideaways for the early Sards. Most holidaymakers, though, will be content to drive through, stopping at shepherd villages and experiencing some truly original food. Mountain hotels tend to open only between June and September. Luckily, this does not apply to the big cities, and if you wish to attend some of the island’s most celebrated events you need to be there in May.