Andrea Comande

In the past 20 years, foreign immigrants have struggled to establish themselves within the ‘formal’ city of Rome, and as a result have settled informally on the city’s periphery. Far from the celebrated ruins of the historic centre is a second Rome, one where striated, empty fields separate new suburban developments, post-war era apartment blocks, decrepit stadiums, office parks, and abandoned buildings of all kinds. Here, in a landscape formed by austerity urbanism, corruption, and decades of rampant, unchecked speculation, can be found an array of migrant communities carved out of the leftover spaces in the city.

Despite the barriers migrants face in Rome, their numbers continue to increase.  These ‘impossible citizens’ are now, and will continue to be, exploited, marginalized, and underrepresented as access to a affordable housing goes unaddressed and the possibility of escaping the subproletariat labour market is hampered. Yet, against all odds, migrants have found ways to access the city, and by

transgressing the borders between the formal and informal, they assert their rights to be seen and heard. In Rome today, migrants are forcing questions of equality between citizens and stateless individuals, opening up possibilities for new forms of movement, inhabitation, and space-making.

This project explores the lives of refugees in Rome through four speculative narratives set at Termini Train Station located in the centre of the city. Here, the daily life of refugees play out in the large, open piazza directly in front of Termini Station. Through a large scale intervention of the site, this project wishes to assert an imagined future of Rome where refugee space, tourist space, and native Italian space overlap and mix. The redesign of the Termini Train Station is told through four narratives each from the perspective of the refugees who would inhabit this site.  Each narrative is accompanied by an operative drawing that illustrates the events that unfold there. 

Arrivi

Tafik grew up in eastern Ghana, in the remote village of Naro where they speak an isolated dialect of Gurunsi called Kasem. In early 2016 Tafik left Ghana with his brother, to head north to Libya with the hopes of reaching Italy and eventually northern Europe. His plans were vague, but he was adamant to leave. After spending almost a month crossing the sahara desert, they finally made it to libya, where it took him almost the entire year to earn the remaining money needed in order to pay for his voyage across the mediterranean.

Tafik finally gained enough money to pay for his voyage that winter, which is often less expensive, but far more dangerous as the water is cold and storms are common. They left early in the morning when the sea tends to be calmer, but roughly an hour after departing a storm set in and capsized the boat. Tragically, Tafik’s brother was lost, but Tafik managed to survive and was intercepted by Frontex, Europe's mediterranean border security body, and was taken aboard.

Once on board he was brought to the small island of Lampedusa, where he was asked to take his fingerprints. Tafik had learned that if you clench your fists during this process, there is a chance that the border security agent will allow you to pass without claiming asylum in Italy, which would allow you to circumvent the Dublin accord, which was put in place to prevent people from making multiple asylum claims.

From there, Tafik was taken to CARA Mineo, a holding centre for refugees, but without his brother, he had no way to speak with anyone around him. Tafik’s dialect was rare and incomprehensible, but his brother spoke some french and it was he who had helped Tafik communicate. Tafik felt profoundly isolated.

Eventually, he would make his way to Rome, where he arrived at Termini station. Upon arriving he walked the perimeter of the piazza dei cinquecento, he was not sure what he was looking for or what to do. The market there was loud, he needed a moment of silence to gather his thoughts. He headed up to the second level of the colonnade and walked along the west side of the piazza. There it was quite. As he walked along the double loaded hallway, he could see people sitting in small, semi circular chambers. As he passed, he could hear for a brief moment what the people inside were saying. The hallway was acoustically anomalous, something he had never experienced before. The shape of the rounded chambers that project out into the hallway allowed for the voices of those speaking inside to be heard clearly, for a brief moment as you walked by.  As he passed each chamber, he could see people talking inside. The rooms were meeting places. Men sat and smoked, played cards, talked. Some were silent. Every once in a while he would pass and people would drop their voices, they know that their voices carried outside of the room. As he walked, he heard his native Kasem for the first time since arriving in Italy. It was an amazing stroke of luck, but he had found a group he could communicate with.  

Il Mercato

Abdullah lives in the Parco dell Colle, a large park which overlooks the coliseum but is hidden from the hordes of tourists who pass the monument each day. It is a haven for Afghan refugees who have taken over the more remote corners of the park and set up a small shanty town there.  Because it is not a large draw for tourists, the municipal government has allowed the community to stay, at least for this winter.

Abdullah has not spoken to his wife in over 3 months. In the past he would Skype with her from a computer at the JNRC once every couple days, then it became once a week, now he can not bare to speak with her. In the past Abdullah worked as a day labourer, getting picked up at the Via Cupa north of the Piazza Dei Cinquecento and would work in construction, however the jobs were often unsafe with little oversite. The last time he worked he had fallen off improperly built scaffolding and hurt his leg. He has been unable to work manual labour since. When he was a day labourer he was able to send whatever small amount of extra money he had to his family back in Afghanistan. It was a source of pride for him. He often lied to his wife about the conditions in Rome. She does not know he is homeless or about his injury. Since he can not work he in unable to send money home, which weighs heavy on him. He does not know what to say to her, because to tell her would mean to explain so much more that she is unaware of.

However, the past couple days things have begun to look better for Abdullah. As a day labourer, he hated what he did, he had no experience in working in construction and did not want to work in the fields outside of Rome, which he heard was far more cruel and dangerous. He hated the Italians he worked for, but knew that he had to do it. In Afghanistan Abdullah ran a small shop where he was able to support his family, but in recent years conditions had deteriorated to the point that he knew he had to leave.

Abdullah is a natural salesman, but was never able to establish himself within Rome because as a refugee he is unable to gain access to a vending permit that would allow him to open a stall.

However, he is about to start working for a Bangladeshi vendor who sells fruit at the piazza dei cinquecento. The bangldeshi immigrants who came to rome legally have successfully opened several shops across the city, but have generally been bared from selling items at the large piazza markets like the one in the campo dei Fiori which draws large tourists. They took the opportunity in the piazza dei cinquecento to open shops there, under the east and west collonades, which shade them from the sun in the summer and offer protection from the rain and snow in the winter. Also, they have direct access to the tourists and Italians who leave the train station each day.

Along with the vendors who have permits, illegal stalls are also setup. In the past these illgal vendros sold items by roaming across the city with large blankets that they splayed across the street. When police arrived they would grab their wares and move to another location.

But now they sell their goods at the piazza dei cinquecnento. Interspersed between formal vendors, they are part of a large crowd, and the police are unwilling to check the permits of each one. Sometimes if the police do come asking for permits, those with legal ones will say they are working for them. It has fostered a recipiral relationship now, as the market grows, it draws more people, increasing its significance in the city as one of the great markets of Rome.

After a couple weeks of work, Abdullah is finally able to face his wife again.

L’accademia

Maiga is crossing the Piazza dei Cinquecento, it is late January, and it is cold.

A heavy fog has rolled across Rome and has lingered there all morning. He pushes through the small market set up under the northern wing of the colonnade surrounding the piazza, and navigates the traffic of the busses and taxis that breach its outer perimeter. It is early in the morning, but it is busy. There are buses picking up Italians headed for work, taxis begin to stream in as the first trains drop off tourists, and potential employers are picking up day labourers, almost all of which are refugees. In the past day-labourers were picked up in random locations across the city, and the work was treacherous, but now they are all picked up at the piazza. A sort of union of day labourers has formed there and have self regulated their employers, chasing out those who are known to be especially careless and manipulative with their workers.

Maiga finds it incredibly satisfying to see this, he takes tremendous pride at the community of refugees who have formed at the piazza, it gives him hope. But Maiga is always uncharacteristically hopeful, almost naive in his prospects for the future. But for him, there is no other way, he has seen the other side of loosing hope. However, his confidence does not spring from an unfounded fantasy, Maiga’s confidence comes from the agency he gains from his knowledge of Rome.

He is constantly trying to learn new things, he craves it. He is often speaking to strangers, mainly because he has learned so many languages. Maigia now speaks 8, his native Songhay (son-guy), a traditional language spoken in southern Mali, French, Italian, Arabic, English, German, and is beginning to learn Chinese. Because of this, Maiga is a bridgemaker in the refugee community, he makes connections all the time and gets joy from sharing the information he has learned. Often what he is interested in are the mundaine, but incredibly important aspects of refugee life, like assylum documents, potential new routes north, work prospects, and unknown abandoned buildings that can be squatted in.  

Maiga makes the walk to the piazza almost every morning, it is a part of his daily routine. When he can not find work, which is often, he stays at the piazza for most of the morning. Today, he is heading up the colonnade to the second level. A large starcase on either side of the west and east colonade brings him to a series of square rooms, each identical in size, that stretch across the sides of the piazza. Each room is formally unique. Some are open to the elements, others are heated with subdivided spaces. Many of the dislocated NGOs over the years have settled here. The JNRC, which has dramatically outgrown its capacity, has relocated much of its classes and support staff to the piazza.

There are small lockers in certain rooms that are used to house documents for refugees. Others are rooms where classes can be held. But most of them are informal spaces without any specific function. In this case, people are able to use the spaces as they wish.

Italians have pejoratively called the second level of the colonnade l’academia, the academy, but for refugees the rooms remains a significant space in the knowledge economy that sustains them in the city.

Maiga is looking for a cellphone. His was stolen from him a week prior and he needs it to remain connected. Apart from being a staus symbol of wealth amongst refugees, it more importantly is a sign of connection to others, an incredibly valuable asset for Refugees in Rome. He is looking for il tycoon, a term used in the refugee community to refeerr to an older man who knows the ins and outs of Rome. He is sitting in one of the heated rooms that he has essentially turned into his own personal office. When maiga arrives, he is unable to give him any information about a cellphone, but rather tells him about a protest that is being orgonbized that will happen in a week from then.

Maiga has never been part of any political demonstration in Rome, for the most part he choses to remain invisible to the formal city. He often takes backstreets and alleys in order to avoid any hassles from the police, he never takes the subway in Rome because of the heavy military presence in the stations, instead opting for the bus where he is less likely to be bothered. Despite this, Maiga is interested because, after living in Rome for so many years, he feels like it is about time he was able to express himself in the city.

Venti sei di gennaio

Igiaba is the daughter of refugees and has lived her entire life in Rome. Her parents arrived from Eritrea in the 1980s, and she was born soon after. She is Italian and thoroughly Roman, but represents a new generation of Italians. After decades of outward immigration, Igiaba is among the first wave of Italians whose parents were born outside of Europe.

Igiaba has a strong sense of her Eritrean heritage and she is proud of it. She is an activist who works hard to fight for refugee causes. In the past she has orgonized several protests across Rome, many of which were small, but meaningful because she knows the importance of giving refugees a chance to express themselves politically in public. Her experience in Rome has been shaped by years of racism, despite speaking perfect Italian, she is unavoidably un-italian.

For most tourists and Italians, Rome is a city filled with monuments, often disassociated from any historic meaning, but admired on face value for their beauty. However, for Igiaba, the city of Rome is a constant reminder of the complicated history between Italy and Africa. Across Rome can be found monuments commemorating former colonies. In the period after unification in the mid 1800s, Italy began a campaign of empire building in north and east africa which included libya, ethepia, and eritrea.  

During this time, monuments were erected across the city of Rome commemorating colonial control. A number of streets in the area north of the Piazza dei cinquecento were named after colonies, Via Etheiapia, via Libya, vialle Somalia. Plaques dot the city telling the story of heroic victories. As a callback to an ancient Roman practice, artifacts were taken from colonies and brought back to Rome as a symbol of their subjugation.

One of these sites who has a colonial history is the Piazza dei Cinquecento which, translated into English is the Piazza of the 500, named in honour of the 500 Italian soldiers who died at the battle of Dogali in present day Eritrea on January 26, 1887.

The battle was one of the earliest victories of an african army over colonial power, and would become a major turning point for the emergining country of ethiopia and Eritrea as they fought for their independence.

In recent years, the piazza has taken on a new signifance among refugees and Italians of African decent. The site has become a flashpoint for political protests, as people from across africa reclaim the space. Recognizing this significance, Igiaba has made the piazza the ending point of the day long protest she is organizing for January 26.

The protest started in the north of Rome and marched through the city, deliberating passing through areas of Rome with a colonial connection. On those streets named after colonies, protesters glued small signs below the formal street sign, indicating the number of people from that place who live in Rome. Continuing through the city they passed various monuments, including a plaque commemorating the battle of dogali, describing the heroic sacrifice of those Italians who died there. Beside this was plastered a counter narrative describing the battle from an Eritrean perspective and the significance the battle had in the future independence of the country.

Finally, the protest would come to the piazza dei cinquecento. In the past, the scattered nature of the piazza made it difficult to take, but now, the large open space has become ideal for protest. Its defined edges mark it as a clear political space in the city. Banners and signs are hung from the colonnades. As a final defiant act, thousands of prayer mats, tarps, and blankets were laid down and several hundred people began to pray. The majority of refugees in Rome are muslim, and in Italy, a country with such ingrained islamophobia, an open display of prayer is an act of resistance. In a stroke of luck, the piazza is already oriented towards mecca.