"I'm a father! A real father!" That's what Abib told me over the phone the morning he arrived at Milan's central station. I told him Giovanna was waiting for him—that she'd already called me twice looking for him, boarding every young man with a confused expression and a vaguely Tunisian accent.
About ten minutes later, Giovanna called back, thrilled. They'd found each other. What a miracle in all that crowd! My sister had called from Rome a few days earlier—an October evening last year—to ask if we could find a place for a young Tunisian man coming from Sicily to spend a few days with his wife. A doctor in Trapani had carefully put Abib's wife on a plane with their baby, flying them to the pediatric metabolic unit at San Paolo Hospital. The child appeared to have a serious metabolic disorder. Abib had come thinking he'd stay just a few days, hear what the doctors said about his son, comfort his wife a little, then return to Sicily, where they had a small house and some work.
Abib and Naima with little Mohamed, finally home from the hospital
But the doctors' diagnosis was devastating. Mohamed could live only on a strict diet prepared by the pharmacy. He would have to stay in the hospital for two or three months with his mother, and after discharge, he'd need weekly check-ups. I remember Naima's dark eyes and her simple, sweet smile in that hospital room. She held Mohamed constantly in her arms, wrapped entirely in white cloth, with only his pale little face showing—two large eyes wide open. Abib decided to stay. He said he wanted to find work and a home for when Naima and Mohamed came out of the hospital.
To us, the faith and courage of this small Muslim family seemed miraculous
To us, the faith and courage of this small Muslim family seemed miraculous—these people with nothing who, out of love for their child, had left the little they had. Without a home or work, without relatives or friends, in a foreign country, yet carrying such hope and never a gesture of despair. Naima would look out the hospital window and say to Giovanna: "With so many houses, is there really none for us? How is that possible?"You were right, Naima, because when you came out four months later, your small bundle a bit bigger and a bit more rosy, there was a tiny apartment in a Milan parish waiting to welcome you.
Abib had found work almost immediately. Giovanna helped him with all the paperwork, accompanying him everywhere. Later, when she'd visit Naima with diapers, grapes, or cookies, she'd hear: "Look at Mohamed, look at Grandma!" Giovanna would laugh, delighted. They still live in that small apartment, but not for much longer.
The social worker at the parish of Santa Maria del Suffragio managed to get them assigned public housing—fortunately still in that familiar neighborhood. Abib has changed jobs; now he works as a waiter and is happy. For Christmas they have a big plan: to take their little one home to his real grandparents in Tunisia. Then they'll come back, because here too, now, they have a home and friendship.
I Am Abib
Testimony
I begin by speaking God's name. I am Abib. I am twenty-eight years old. I was born in Tunisia. I will tell my story, and perhaps it will seem a bit sad. I was married on October 9, 1988. After we married, we came to Sicily hoping for a new life. A year later Mohamed was born. We had four happy days, but then we noticed something was wrong and took him to the hospital—first in Mazara del Vallo, then Trapani, then Palermo. This life moving between hospitals lasted three and a half months without anyone knowing what was wrong with Mohamed. At last we came to Milan, and there was the crisis: the baby and his mother in the hospital, and two days later I arrived. I didn't know where to go. Through a phone call from Mazara to Rome and from Rome to Milan, I found friends who took me to see the little one at the hospital. I thank God that these friends also found me a temporary place to stay—because I thought after a few weeks Mohamed could return to Sicily. Instead it was the opposite: the baby remained in the hospital four months.
I never thought I would find friends who would help me so much.
I never thought I would find friends who would help me so much.I looked for work and fortunately found it almost right away. I was given housing in the Parish of Our Lady of Suffrage, where my wife Naima and Mohamed were also taken in. After seven months, helped by friends, we found a home, and I hope to do my best from now on. I never thought I would find friends to help me like this. I thank them all, hoping never to forget them. These past days we have been so happy about how Mohamed is doing. At the hospital, where he goes every week, they told us that if he follows the diet and treatment they prescribed strictly, he can be well. I should mention that Mohamed has leucinosis, a metabolic disease. I hope to return to Tunisia soon.
I Am Naima
Testimony
What can I say? So many days have passed far from my country—days of sorrow. I came to this country with the dream of building a future. In Sicily nine months went by in happiness: friends, work, and the joy of expecting a baby. That happiness didn't last. The baby became ill, and from one hospital to another my suffering began. The situation kept getting harder—the language, the unfamiliar city. Language was crucial because I had to speak with doctors. We lost our jobs, our home. But I thank God that friends stayed with us. The doctors in Milan saved my Mohamed because they understood what he had, and thanks to them he can live almost normally. It wasn't easy to find a house and work here in Milan, but with the help of friends who were always there with us, we now have both.
These words may seem simple, but for me they are painful—I have suffered them day after day. I wish for anyone who faces situations like this to face them with patience and faith, because God is always with us.
We lost our jobs, our home, but I thank God that friends stayed with us.
We lost our jobs, our home, but I thank God that friends stayed with us.