Vito Finocchiaro

In the night between November 2 and 3, around 2.30 am, an eruptive mouth opens at 1850 meters north of the Citelli Refuge, from which a lava river flows into the Magazzeni torrent and head towards the Town of Sant'Alfio. Between fright and terror, the population relies on its Patron Saints. At the mercy of the weather and the brutal force of the volcano, a crowd of weeping pilgrims takes the relics of the saints in procession and kneels in front of that incandescent lava riverthat wants to devour everything. A roar shakes the bowels of the earth. The people run frightened. It looks like an apocalypse. Under a rain of water, mud and stones everyone tries to escape from what seems like a destiny marked, abandoning everything. Suddenly the lava stops its way. It looks like a miracle. November 4 at 9 pma new fracture opens at a height of between 1200 and 1400 meters, reaching the Ripa of Naca area. A horrible river of lava heads to the Town of Mascali. It's November 6, 1928 ... The impetuous and destructive descent does not stop. The whole inhabited is reached and completely destroyed on November 7th. Mascali is buried with lava along with its memories.Ninety years have passed since the fateful date that has always marked the history of the Sicilian territory. A date that has always been carved into my soul ... A date that has always been carved into my mind ... One day impressed within me by my grandparents' story, the sad destiny of their country. Those words and eyes veiled with a never-ending sorrow continued to penetrate my mind for years, arousing in me a mixture of strong, painful emotions, mixed with curiosity and interest, and which pushed me to retrace through images, what happened to my family, my people, and my land in those fatal days of November 1928 ....