A Chim Chiminey Parade Honors Sweeps and Remembers Previous Horrors
SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE, Italy – They marched through the cobblestone streets waving high brushes like batons, a peppy – if sooty – group that occasionally shouted: “spazzacaminooooooo”, Italian for chimney sweeps (with a few additional o’s for emphasis).
Along the parade route, children stopped plastic bags in hopes of catching gifts from the chimney sweeps as they passed. Some were given candy while others rushed at needles, buttons, pencils, and even potatoes that were tossed into the crowd.
The adults were given dirty two-handed caresses that left few clean faces among the front row spectators along the way.
The festival is a time of celebration and attracts thousands of tourists to the town in the Vigezzo Valley near the Swiss border. But neither the cleanups nor the local residents have forgotten the past horrors of a dirty and dangerous business that depended on child exploitation. Memories of poverty and humiliation weigh heavily on those old enough to remember them.
“When the event started in the 1980s, few locals attended because they were ashamed,” said Claudio Cottini, the mayor of Santa Maria Maggiore.
The city’s identity has long been linked to commerce. The local chimney sweep museum shows a map from the 16th century.
Then, and for centuries afterwards, the families from this area were so poor that many had their sons work as chimney sweeps when they were 6 or 7 years old. It was one mouth less to feed.
The children who became “padroni” or master sweepers in teaching and word of mouth from their lives tell sobering stories of abuse and misery.
“That’s where the term ‘light a fire under the bum’ comes from: If the children weren’t working fast enough, the masters would say, ‘Hurry up or I’ll make a fire in the grate,'” says Diane Pilger of Long Island, NY, the former President of the National Chimney Sweep Guild in the United States. She attended this year’s festival with her husband John and daughter Krista, both sweeps.
Purposely malnourished to keep them lean, the young sweepers were forced to climb up narrow chimneys and scrape elbows and knees while scrubbing smoldering soot from the sides of a chimney. They traveled to distant lands for insignificant pay. Beatings were the order of the day.
“They were despised, humiliated and abused, but they made enormous sacrifices to send money home to help their families,” said Anita Hofer, vice president of the Italian National Chimney Sweepers Association and organizer of the festival.
The fate of the chimney sweeps, said Ms. Hofer, is not much different from that of thousands of African migrants who have dared a dangerous crossing of the Mediterranean in recent years to create a better life in Europe.
“Moving to another country to escape poverty is one of the hardest things possible,” she said, adding that many Italians, whose history is full of emigrants, have lost sight of it. “We should be more understanding because our ancestors had similar experiences.”
Every year visitors make a pilgrimage together in the nearby town of Malesco to the statue of Faustino Cappini, a 12-year-old sweeper who was electrocuted in 1929 when he stuck his hand out of a chimney and accidentally touched an electric wire. It was common for children to signal to their masters that they had cleaned the smoke vent to the tip.
Such tragedies are now largely a thing of the past. Technology, modern chimneys, and strict safety and certification regulations have made cleaning a much less dangerous job. And chimney sweeps can still find work.
“We have 2.6 million saunas in Finland,” says Juha Tuomi, a Finn who has been sweeping for 46 years, “and many are wood-fired.”
These changes have helped locals grapple with the uglier aspects of their history and explain how a trade tied to Dickens’ distress stories is the inspiration for a happy festival today.
“Over time, it becomes something to be proud of,” said Mayor Cottini. “It is now recognized that this land gave our ancestors a craft, and we honor that.”
The American contingent of the festival numbered 38, one of the largest groups, but a far cry from the 420 German sweepers who marched in the parade with a samba band.
All sweeps wore their fanciest, fanciest, mostly black best, even though the September sun provided summery temperatures.
The Swiss adorned their necks with bright red scarves. The Japanese wore stylish kimono-style jackets, while the Scots wore kilts. Contrary to the fashion trend, the Dutch were dressed in white, reminiscent of the time when they cleaned chimneys for their royal houses. Top hats were popular.
“It really all started here,” said Rosanna Ramoni, a local resident and leader of the parade. “This is the place of the heart, of its roots.”
While the parade boosts the local economy, the area is far more affluent today than it was when it sent chimney sweeps around the world.
Tourists flock at other times of the year to admire the frescoed facades and commercial art galleries of Santa Maria Maggiore, capitalizing on the Vigezzo Valley’s reputation as the “Valley of Painters”. The wealth also comes from Switzerland, where many locals commute and earn significantly higher wages than in Italy.
When the parade ended, the best national identities fraternized and the Scots marched with the Russians; the Japanese were bombarded with requests for photos; and a local sweeper, Livio Milani, scurried across the roof of the old town hall to wave an Italian flag. It was a happy moment.
“That is the picture that you have to take home with you,” said Ms. Ramoni to the cheers of the sweepers and spectators.
