Back back to Artword Productions 2000-2001

World premiere! Charly’s new show,
at Artword Theatre, April 5 to 29, 2001

Charly goes back to Italy and finds he’s a ...
Mangiacake!
by Charly Chiarelli

(summary and excerpts)
Charly goes back to Italy and finds he's a Mangiacake! When Charly was a baby, Charly's parents immigrated from Sicily to Canada, to the industrial north end of Hamilton. The first part of the new play Mangiacake tells about the Sicilian-Canadian experience, growing up with two identities. In the second part, Charly goes back to Sicily to find his roots. The show is punctuated with Charly's songs and harmonica playing.

 


"Cu si tu? (Who are you?) Cu si tu? (Who are you?)"
Sicilians have a way of making simple questions sound intimidating: "Chi fa?" (What are you doing?), "Cu ce?" (Who's there?), "Cu'fu?" (Who did it?). And the question before me, "Cu si tu?" (Who are you?). The stern looking woman asking the question was also blocking the way. My wife and I were hauling a lot of luggage down a cobblestone street in Sicily. We were searching for my relatives.
When I was a kid, I had no desire to return to Italy. Why should I? My parents broke their asses to leave - and I'm going to go back? Besides, there was enough Italy right there in our neighbourhood, in the industrial north end.


(Song) Piglia Ti Lu Tu
Maestri biedri, sensa wudiedri
Manamu li figli a scuola
Faciemu la cruci, cercamu la luci
cercamu speranza che vola

Cold winter white, clench for a fight
Play the tough big city game
Laugh at my clothes, bloody my nose
But don't you make fun of my name

Refrain Piglia ti lu tu ca mancu lu wuliu
Piglia ti lu tu si ti pari to
Take it for yourself, it don't mean nothin
Take it for yourself if you want it bad


I was teased by some of my Italian friends for going to this "Mangiacake" school. Mangiacake is a term we used in my neighbourhood for all non-Italians. It means cake-eaters. We saw ourselves as bread-eaters. I mean real bread-eaters - not sliced, white, cotton-fluff eaters.

All men are sensitive when it comes to their balls, but Sicilians are over the top. Not only do we cherish the two we're born with, but if ever there was an opportunity to get a third one, we'd go for it - even if it ended up on our foreheads.

I felt it wasn't right to leave. What if Ma died while we were away? It was Ma who made it easy by saying, "Va, va in Italia! Appena muriri, Iu druocu videma mi truovu. (Go, go to Italy! Right after I die, that's where I plan to be)."
For me Sicilian air has its own particular flavour. The bones of my grandparents and ancestors lay deep within the soil of this exotic island. Uncle Vincenzo once said to me, "You gotta righta to play da bluesa. Sicilia isa nota da souta ofa Italy, itsa da norta of Africa - so Calogero, you play da bluesa!"

I told him I was from 'America', and I was looking for my uncle, Calogero Chiarelli.
Then he said, "Si sicuro ca to ziu ti vuoli vidiri?" (Are you sure your uncle wants to see you?)


Sweet bitter Sicily a land of love, a land of war
Dark waves of history wash upon your golden shore
Children full of dreams of brand new worlds beyond their door
Farewell Sicily till our hearts return to you once more