Famiglia Carbone
(Told by Joe Carbone from Melbourne in Australia)
Family Background
I was born in Alexandria in 1946. My parents also were both born in Alexandria. My father was born in 1919 to Giuseppe Carbone and Benedetta Ferrara, being the fifth of their eight children. His parents had moved to Port Said in 1896 from Trani, Italy, later moving to Alexandria. My mother was born in 1927 to Francesco and Giuseppina Buffo, being the fourth of their five children. Her parents had also moved to Alexandria from Regio, Italy. Being Italian, my father was interned during the Second World War at the Fayed Internment Camp between 1942 and 1944. Due to the political upheaval in Egypt at the time, most of my father’s relatives returned to live in Italy in the 1940’s, while my mother’s relatives decided to migrate, post war, to Australia. My parents, my sister and myself followed my mother’s family, migrating to Australia in 1951. They took with them a large knowledge of languages, a variety of culinary skills and multicultural customs. I grew up hearing wonderful stories about the cosmopolitan way of life in Alexandria.
Return to Alexandria
During early May 2005, I revisited my birthplace, Alexandria, Egypt, with my wife Joy. While it was the first time my wife had been to Egypt, I had previously visited in 1966, staying in Boulkly with my father’s brother, Gennaro Carbone and his wife, Jolanda. My Uncle and Aunt were the only relatives who had remained in Alexandria as my Aunt apparently suffered from agoraphobia and was too afraid to move from her home. They had no children of their own and as this Uncle was the brother most like my own father, I felt very much at home with them and was treated like their own son. Although I may have only stayed with them for one month, in my memory it seems as though I stayed with them for several months. They took me sightseeing around various areas of the City and I was fascinated by such a different way of life to the one I knew in Australia. I vividly recall that the Russians had settled in various parts of Egypt at the time and were becoming an unwanted influence, causing my Aunt to be full of fear.
Arriving in May 2005 was a very different experience to the one 40 years previously. I wanted to re-visit my birthplace, show my wife where I spent my first five years, and visit the significant places connected to my family and personal story. At first, the obvious physical changes included the burgeoning and almost exclusive Muslim population, the replacement of many of the old European style villas with high-rise apartments and the development along the Corniche with the wide dual road eating into what I recalled was once beach. I was also instantly impressed by the friendliness of contemporary Alexandrians. The warmth of the people and my familiarity with the city made me feel instantly ‘at home’. From the moment Joy and I disembarked from the train at Masr Station we were made to feel welcome by everyone we encountered. We must have been readily identified as tourists or visitors from afar as we quickly became accustomed to being stopped in the street with wide smiles and “Welcome to Egypt! Where are you from?” When we replied, “Australia”, people of all ages would respond with the any English words they could use or a few things they knew about Australia such as ‘Melbourne’, ‘Sydney’ or ‘kangaroos’. On the weekend we were invited to join family picnics on the beach and of an evening we were invited to attend weddings and concerts.
We stayed at the Union Hotel on the Corniche only a few doors away from the grand Cecile Hotel where one of my relatives had worked in the 1930’s. The magnificent view from our 7th floor balcony captured the Mediterranean seaside from Fort Qaitbay to beyond Sporting, as well as the constant movement of people and traffic along the Corniche.
The Italian Consulate was our first destination, as I needed confirmation of family history details and contacts at the cemetery and the Casa di Riposo. The initial cool reception at the Consulate’s front security gate was later transformed into valued assistance by one of the officials. As our visit coincided with Consulate officials not receiving visitors on Thursday afternoons nor on Fridays we were extremely lucky to be given time.
A tram ride down to Chatby took us to the Casa Di Riposo where my aunt Jolanda had spent her final years, dying at the age of 99. Directions given by the Consulate unfortunately were not clear. Inaccurate directions given to us by a helpful resident of European decent, who had befriended us while we traveled on the tram, further confused us. Instead of walking immediately across the road at the designated tram stop we roamed for over an hour in the University precinct searching for a place that appeared to be unknown by all locals. When we finally came across the Rest Home, almost by accident, the caretaker, Michele Patruno and his spouse, received us with a warm hug. They had been waiting for our arrival from the time the Consular official telephoned them. We were taken into the room where Jolanda had lived, read, slept and dreamed. It was an emotional experience as I recalled my time spent with her as a 20 year old, and all the intervening years as she had lived alone in this home after my uncle’s death.
The Latino cemetery where my Aunt Jolanda, my Uncle Gennaro and maternal Great Grandfather Camillo Buffo were buried was a brief walk across from the Casa di Riposo. With only half an hour before closing time we were able to search the archives for registrations of deaths and burial locations. Unfortunately the grave of Camillo Buffo could not be found amongst the thousands of gravesites, now largely in disrepair, of Europeans who had been buried since the late 1800’s.
The next day we journeyed to Sidi Gaber where we found the apartment where I lived with my parents, and later my sister, from the time I was born until my family left Alexandria. The building had undergone renovations and the number of floors had doubled. The ground floor apartment where my family had lived had now become a business for restoring furniture. It was dark, untidy and had no resemblance of what was once my home. I took a photograph of the window shutters as they reminded me of the fear I had during the riots of 1951 when stones were hurled against the shutters.
We then went to the grand, beautiful Sacred Heart Church near Sporting where my parents were married and where I was baptized. The Italian Catholic priests had long since departed and African clergy ran the church for the small Coptic community. They were very welcoming and willing to search the archives for evidence of my family’s connection with this Church. The huge old leather bound books finally revealed family registrations of marriage and baptisms, handwritten in beautiful copper plate Latin script. We were given a copy of the registration of each event. My wife Joy was really touched to see the Baptismal font where I was christened as an infant.
My next destination was the home of my Aunt and Uncle with whom I had stayed in 1966. We journeyed to No 8, Sameh Cassen (formally known as Rue Lane), Boulkly, only to find that the original dwelling where they had lived had been replaced five years ago by a high-rise apartment block. We were delighted however to find neighbours and shopkeepers who remembered my relatives with fondness.
The last place that I wished to visit to complete my Alexandrian journey was the Catholic Cathedral of St Catherine’s where my maternal grandparents, Francesco and Giuseppina Buffo had been married. The only Catholic priests remaining in Alexandria welcomed us. A helpful priest was able to search the archives and locate my grandparents’ marriage registration, once again handwritten in a beautiful copper plate Latin script. We requested a copy for our family history files.
The remainder of our time in Alexandria was spent visiting landmarks such as Montazah, Fort Qaitbay, and St Mark’s, walking down the Corniche and roaming the old city streets during day and night. We enjoyed the people, the buildings, the restaurants, the markets, the narrow lanes and views. We will never forget the warm “Welcome to Egypt” greetings and the friendliness of the people.
For me, returning to Alexandria was an emotional journey of loss and longing but also one of putting the past to rest and gaining new experiences and memories. One major motivation to travel to Egypt was to see what I had not experienced previously, that being the city of Cairo and the antiquities along the Nile. Sadly, I devoted only two nights and the best of three days to Alexandria in order to revisit my birthplace and search out my family history, yet it will remain a highlight for as long as I have the capacity for memory. These new, fresh memories are of the smells, sights and sounds of the city where I spent my first five years of life. I have seen the altar where my parents stood trembling as they were pronounced man and wife and the font where they later held me as I was baptized. I have seen the gravesite of the Aunt and Uncle who loved me as a son and my grandparents came alive again in the archival record of their marriage. I have walked happily down narrow lanes and streets where my parents and relatives once strolled as children and teenagers and later were too afraid to walk due to fear of delinquent Arabs. I have seen the Mediterranean lap against the skirt of the city, watched the sun set behind tall minarets and eaten the best falafel ever tasted at Mohamed Ahmed’s restaurant. I left Alexandria feeling complete and thinking it would not matter if I never returned. Three years later I am once again longing to return.