On April 6, at the age of 73 (she was born in Syracuse on December 3,
1951), Aurora Failla, daughter of Alfonso Failla and Amelia (Eufemia)Pastorello, passed away. Together with her twin sister Gemma, she grew
up in an anarchist and anti-fascist family, in an environment that over
the decades welcomed and wove relationships with numerous comrades from
the most disparate places around the world to meet her father. Known for
his anarchist militancy, he was persecuted by fascism, suffering years
of prison and political confinement; reorganizer in 1945, together with
other comrades of his generation, of the Italian anarchist movement and
active in the establishment of the Italian Anarchist Federation.
Since she was a child, Aurora has known the anarchist world, that of the
diaspora and that of the new generations after the liberation from
fascism, listening to stories of migrants, exiles, battles for freedom
and solidarity, collecting and preserving in her heart an immense
heritage of knowledge.
She often remembered, with joy and emotion, her experience as a child in
the Maria Luisa Berneri Colony in Ronchi di Massa, an open and free
place that welcomed boys and girls between the ages of six and twelve
from all over Italy and abroad, children of poor anarchists: there she
learned the concept of freedom and solidarity, integration between
participants, the exchange of knowledge, the same level of relationships
between adults and children. The Colony was the result of a fundraising
effort between anarchists from all over the world, a unique experience
that lasted until the mid-1960s.
Aurora, a very young sixteen-year-old, began her libertarian activity in
Carrara, initially in the FAGI group (the Italian Youth Anarchist
Federation) and then in the FAI. In 1971, on the occasion of the 10th
Congress of the Federation, she met Paolo Finzi, who would later become
her lifelong companion. With Paolo Finzi, in Milan, she was part of the
editorial staff of A-Rivista anarchica and of the Bandiera Nera group,
Paolo and Aurora would manage the magazine for several decades, until
the initiative closed following Paolo's tragic death in 2020. We also
remember her for the many initiatives, together with Paolo, of concrete
solidarity towards the most disadvantaged, towards prisoners and a long
human relationship with the Roma people.
In recent times, the events she suffered have contributed to worsening
her illness, putting an end to her suffering, but we all remember her as
she has always been: joking, cheerful and always smiling in the most
varied political initiatives and on every May Day at the headquarters in
Viale Monza in Milan.
Franco Schirone
Another memory of Aurora
Paolo Finzi and his partner Aurora Failla were two close friends,
important people for me and my family. I still struggle, almost five
years later, to dilute the pain of Paolo's sad and shocking passing when
suddenly I receive the news via WhatsApp that Aurora has also passed
away. I had known that her condition had worsened for days.
I met Aurora at a meeting of the editorial staff of A/Rivista Anarchica,
December 1983, just before Christmas. A few weeks earlier, a letter from
Paolo had arrived at my house: he had read some things I had written in
Rockerilla, the most popular and influential music magazine at the time.
What I wrote had intrigued him, and he invited me to Milan because he
wanted to meet me. I was just a fanzine fan who listened preferably to
anarcho-punk, someone who had frequented the suburbs and marginalization
since birth. I had been buying A/Rivista quite regularly for a few years
already, I saw it in the window when in Venice on the way to university
I passed in front of Utopia2, an anarchist bookshop that for me soon
became a refuge from the rest of the world and a very important source
of news and information. Many punks and many of my classmates didn't
read it because they didn't care: the most intransigent punks even
considered it "a propaganda organ of traditionalist anarchists", a
phrase that I have never really been able to translate into something I
understand. I liked A/Rivista: it did publish impenetrable things every
now and then, but for the rest it was clear and direct, it made me think
and I often drew inspiration from it. They were asking me to
collaborate? Me? A dream was coming true.
I took the train and showed up on time for an editorial meeting in Via
Rovetta: I knew from direct experience that misfits like me were
generally frowned upon and their reasoning was unwelcome, so I decided
to sit at the back and silently observe what happened at that meeting.
The meeting continued for a couple of hours without friction: someone
proposed an article, someone recommended a book, someone offered to
interview someone, there were also people who didn't agree with the tone
and content of a letter that had arrived in the editorial office and
wanted to respond. In short, in that room you could feel that curious
mix of informality and agitation typical of our underground fanzine
meetings, except that here we discussed concrete things and found
solutions when we were often content to float and keep the problems, the
real ones, at bay. At a certain point they decided to interrupt the
meeting to go eat at the restaurant downstairs. While they were getting
up to put the chairs back in their place, a comrade blurted out: "But
that asshole Marco Pandin, he said he would come and instead he screwed
us over!". I raised my hand and introduced myself: "Here I am, I'm the
asshole". That comrade was Aurora. We hug immediately, she is very
smiling and affectionate but she continues to scold me all day for my
silence.
At the table, and then again in the afternoon back at the office, we
talk for a long time with her and Paolo and the others, and I explain my
dream to them: I wanted to spark some mutual curiosity, try to bring
together those who play and those who think, and maybe make music and
ideas collide. At the meeting, in addition to Paolo and Aurora, there
were Franco Pasello, Luciano Lanza, Fausta Bizzozzero, Maria Teresa
Romiti and others whose names I honestly don't remember. Anarchist
comrades, all older than me, who had nothing to do with my wanderings of
disarray and marginalization, but who were curious about me in a way
that put me at ease, open to my bizarre and twisted reasoning,
respectful of my way of reading things without having even the minimum
amount of historical knowledge, of my struggling between records,
fanzines, guitars and suburbs. They were all more cautious towards the
world and with direct experiences of repression much more consistent
than mine and that of my friends: we had a short history of concerts,
rallies and stone throwing, they instead had a heavy experience of
specious searches based on nothing and threats from the police station,
when they were not defamatory accusations for attacks that never
committed. I learned to love those comrades very early on. I
collaborated constantly with the A/Rivista Anarchica from then until the
last issue of the summer of 2020 - 37 years old. I was also there in
Naples at the Fabrizio de Andrè concert in support of A/Rivista
Anarchica and Umanità Nova and, even if only briefly and for two days,
at the International Conference in Venice. I participated in many
meetings, initiatives, debates, concerts, collective dinners and
parties. I demonstrated with the circled A on me whenever I could and,
without anyone seeing, I despaired when I couldn't be there.
The collaborative relationship with A/Rivista Anarchica very quickly
turned into a deep and sincere friendship. Paolo and Aurora soon came to
meet my parents, they often came to my house and often hosted me at
their home. In a word, they were always close to me, in addition to so
much music in my life I had so many, many problems. Paolo, always so
solid and thoughtful, managed to bring peace in the midst of my highest
waves. Aurora always affectionate, soft and maternal: how many times she
fed me, and how many times I accompanied her to the grocery store and
carried her bags. How many times she left her solitaire games aside and
suspended her housework to give me attention and suggestions, without
ever judging or expecting anything in return. How many times we laughed
together at the funniest and stupidest things, until we cried.
Paolo's passing, the closing of A/Rivista and the sudden worsening of
her health distanced us. When I went to visit her last year, I was
surprised and moved by the fact that she recognized me immediately, she
who was overwhelmed by that merciless disease that filled her memory
with holes, and she started laughing remembering that very first meeting
of ours in the editorial office over forty years ago. And she clearly
remembered that young bastard who seemed to have pulled a spanner on
her, Paolo and all the others, and instead he didn't.
Marco Pandin
https://umanitanova.org/ricordando-aurora-failla/
_________________________________________
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