A month after the day in which Crati broke the silence with the blind force of water, Lattughelle and the Sibari Lakes still bear the signs of a deep wound. The streets, the houses, the faces: everything tells of those hours suspended between fear and disbelief. Yet, within this pain, something continued to be born, to resist, to keep hope alive.
“The water took a lot away from us, but not our dignity,” says Rossella, one of the many mothers who saw their house fill with mud that night. «We lost furniture, memories, pieces of life. But we were not alone for even a moment.” His words are intertwined with those of other displaced families, forced to leave everything: “We thought we were abandoned, but instead we found hands outstretched everywhere.”
They did not feel alone, they repeat. The Church, the Municipality, the associations: a silent and concrete network that supported every step. “They entered our homes, literally,” says Antonio, still with tears in his eyes. «Counsellors, councilors… not with words, but with their arms. They shoveled mud next to us. Even the guys from Cassano Sybaris.” And then the common people, neighbors and strangers, arrived without fanfare: “Guardian Angels”, they call them. People who brought food, clothes, but above all presence.
Of all the images of those days, one remained in our memory more than the others: the mayor, with his yellow boots. Dirty with mud, worn by water, but always in motion. Not a constructed symbol, but one that became such as the hours passed. Those boots tell of a guide who didn’t stay behind a desk, who didn’t do the catwalk, but who walked in the same flooded streets, knocked on the same doors, shared the same effort. “We won’t forget him,” many say. «He was there, with us, always. Day and night.”
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