The Great Return

The Great Return

Revival in Louisiana-Sicilian pride, descendants of the 19th century Italian immigrants are visiting their ancestors' homeland.

By Suzanne Ferrara

“I got teary-eyed when the plane was landing in Palermo. I’ve arrived! This is where I was supposed to go all along; I finally made the journey back. I came and saw it for my grandparents. I came and saw it for them.”

Sandy Provenzano Trupiano, of Marrero, Louisiana, is among the growing number of Louisiana Sicilian Americans, including my self, making the journey to the land our an cestors left behind nearly a century ago.

This windfall of discovery parallels the rap id emergence of newly-formed Sicilian social groups dotting the state, as well as the explo sion of Louisianans receiving Italian dual cit izenships. “Dual citizenships have increased two hundred percent in just one year! All of these areas are taking off,” says Charles Mar sala, President of the American-Italian Fed eration of the Southeast. “Internet platforms, the ease of travel, and word of mouth are all major drivers; however, pride in heritage and a strong drive to connect with long distance relatives outweighs all of these factors, by far.”

Photo of author (second from right in red dress) meeting her Ferrara cousins in Contessa Entellina. Courtesy of author.

One could say this phenomenon would baffle our destitute forefathers, who coura geously left their perpetually-plagued land broken-hearted in an effort to earn an honest living. This honest living was nearly 6,000 miles away from everything familiar to them.

Our migratory return has an indisputable undercurrent; this twen ty-first-century rite of passage is both emotional and individualistic. The driving force behind Trupiano’s unwavering pursuit was a deep desire to better understand herself and what was running through her veins.

“Why am I this way?” she asks. “There’s a genetic thread. I believe my strength and that of my kids derived from these strong, spirited individu als. My grandmother Josephine had a sixth-grade education and was ob sessed with personal, financial achievement. She amassed a small fortune in the early 1900s, and owned and operated a franchise.”

Helena Midkiff, Trupiano’s first cousin from Metairie, recently made a separate voyage with her Sicilian husband by her side. The two women share the same great-grandfather, Pietro Briguglio. But Midkiff’s journey was less about self-discovery than about satisfying her intense curiosity.

“You are changed. It was always a mystery, and the mystery was solved. I was fulfilled and got an inner peace,” she says. Midkiff was blown away by how explicitly content her relatives still living in Contessa were. “They were the happiest people I ever met, and I thought, ‘If only my grandmother was here to see this’. I couldn’t believe that I was physically here.”

For Baton Rouge’s Jennifer Betbeze, the voyage was a chance to ‘resurrect’ her deceased grandmother, Lena, with whom she shared a profound bond. “It was like a resurrection because she died not too long before I went on the trip. I wanted to get closer to her.” Her voice cracking, Betbeze pauses. “I wanted to get closer to all those stories she told me about; the stories were very important to her, and they became special to me. I wanted the reality. I wanted to see it for myself. I finally felt like I understood her so much more than I did [before].”

All of Peitro Briguglio's children, including Sandy Povenzano Trupiano’s grandmother Josephine (second from right) and Helen Midkiff's grandmother Lena (far right). Courtesy of Briguglio family.

Bryan Centanni says his trip to Sicily was as sisted by fate. “My sister and I couldn’t believe it! We began hugging each other. We were so excited as the island came into view from our ferryboat.”

No one in his River Ridge party—Bryan, his wife, his sister—tried to contact possible relatives before their arrival in Alia. It was a last minute trip. Centanni had a list of names in his pocket, and as the trio began walking around Alia, destiny took the wheel. “We bumped into three elderly men, and they didn’t speak En glish. They motioned us to follow them, and we walked up to this house, and a woman was speaking Italian from her third-story window. Lo and behold, this lady was my cousin, Lucia.” From there, it was pure ancestral magic. “We went inside and everyone kissed us on both cheeks,” continues Centanni. “We drank espresso and homemade wine. We laughed a lot. It was truly awesome; just indescribable.” Cen tanni says next to getting married, his Sicilian encounter was “the highlight of my life! I’m re turning with my children because I want them to have this great experience. It’s important.”

Twenty-four-year old Patrick Campesi, the National Vice-President of the Young Professional Italians, wears the Italian horn around his neck and a lapel pin displaying both the American and Sicilian flags. The White Castle real estate entrepreneur proudly delivers a Sicilian truism often repeated by his late grandfather Ross Campesi, Sr: “La famillia prima di tutto, which means ‘family always first’.”

“We were very close. I always felt loved when I was with him. He gave me guidance and told me about his life. He would pick me up in his truck and drive along the levee, while showing me all the family property.” Campesi chuckles as he recalls his grandfather’s sense of hu mor. “He would dip his pinky finger in his espresso or wine when I was a toddler and put it on my tongue, and it worked! Because today I love both.”

A man of his word, the family pa triarch painstakingly plucked his hard-working family out of the sugar cane fields of Iberville Parish. “He elevat ed us from just being mere farmers to be coming successful business owners that would provide for generations to come.”

Campesi attributes his grandfather’s tri umphs to the resolute Sicilian dogmas of hard work, honesty, and family. It’s these same principles that drove the young Campesi to make the transatlantic jour ney to the mother country. “Going to Poggioreale was about paying homage to my grandfather.”

Campesi is currently in the process of seeking a dual citizenship so that he can help revitalize the earthquake-ravaged Poggioreale. “I want to help them create economic stimulus for their redevelopment,” he says. “I believe it’s the right thing to do to give back. I want to honor my family’s sacrifice and what makes me a Campesi.”

Sandy Provenzano Trupiano (left) with cousin Helen Midkiff holding a photo of their late great-grandfather Pietro Briguglio, by Suzanne Ferrara.

Campesi’s youthful enthusiasm and love for the motherland is uncannily similar to that of my late father, Paul Fer rara. My dad was the son of two Sicilian immigrants who planted roots in the New Orleans’ French Quarter in the late 1920s. Though I never had the chance to meet them, the desire to connect with my grandparents and the land from whence they came began simmering in my early childhood, the flame growing with each passing day.

My return to Contessa Entellina was inevitable. I’ve always known that the spirit of my great-grandparents, grand parents, and father lives in me—and that it stems from the mountainous territory of the ‘Valle del Belice’.

The hypnotic topography of the land scape, though breathtaking, pales in comparison to the people who live there, especially my Sicilian relatives who, to me, are the epitome of a pure and infinite love that has survived the passage of time.

My father always told me, “Contessa is paradise.” Now, I understand. Con tessa is my heaven on earth, and saying goodbye was like waking from a dream. I never expected the flood of emotions that suddenly came over me while leaving my cousin’s home. It was the surreal feeling of being torn away from the people and place that I deeply loved.

Patrick Campesi holding sketches of his late grandfather Ross Campesi, by Suzanne Ferrara.

This explosive Sicilian return, I be lieve, will continue to open hearts. Mid kiff describes it this way: “We all want something more.” For our ancestors, that something more spelled survival; for us, it’s a reunion of blood. It’s also about clo sure—the unfulfilled embrace that our ancestors longed for all their lives is tak ing place, through us, a century later.

La famiglia prima di tutto.