The Sicilian Experience of Mr. Benny

The sulfur mine 1888 Sicily salvatore The boy carried less sulfur than usual this time. His muscles were twitching. The mine was nearly a hundred meters deep. The twists and turns of the cavern, descending through never ending sulfur walls, down, and then back to the surface, created a throbbing in his back and legs. His mind fought this pain, but he was too tired. The brief intermittent exchange of glorious blue sky, gave him some sense of hope to keep on living. The process was repeated, again and again, until his emotions were dulled to the point where he felt nothing but a muted existence, a spinning painter’s palette of dull yellow and white. Four years ago, his reactions were acute. But, now those same oscillations of light and darkness, of despair and hope, changed to a bland acceptance of what was real. Repeat visits to the Devils’ gates, through purgatory and back to the surface of the earth, gave him a feeling that this was a life and death experience, not unlike that of Christ carrying his cross to Golgotha, “The Place of the Skulls.” However, Salvatore did not die on any of these days. Over a hundred round trips, each day, had not taken his life from him. Naked, with only a loincloth, sweat poured from his body. While in the deepest recesses of the abyss, he caught a cramp that forced him to put his bag of ore down. He had to rest on his back, and curl his toes towards the roof of the cave to stretch his calf muscle until it stopped its contraction. This caused him to lose some time on this round. It would cost him more than a cramp. The foreman was waiting impatiently for him to return with his bag of sulfur. Adolfo was perturbed that Salvatore was slow, and carrying a load with much less volume than customary. He whacked the boy-slave with a stick across his buttocks. The yellow dust flew from him after the strike. He dropped to his knees and gasped. The next time it will be the whip! Sal understood quickly and did not wish to feel that whip. His hatred for Adolfo overwhelmed his being. The emotion surged forward from the depths of his soul. Raw bile frothed into his mouth. This bitter taste he knew too often. He knew he must not fight back against Adolfo. Cruelty was the natural order of the day for this sulfur mine. Reason overruled anger. Salvatore would not raise his eyes toward his tormentor for this would only bring on more punishment. He had been through this many times before. He dumped the bag into the ore cart, and descended again to the depths of the mine. The shaft was narrow and serpentine. Even the shorter boys had to squat low and eventually, this constant stooped position, created back problems for every child that worked in the mines.