The First Farm-Azienda Boccea

Azienda Agricola Boccea is an organic farm in the foothills outside of Rome. We first arrived here on a sunny, cool afternoon. As we entered through the large gate a soft wind rustled the leaves on the olive trees and a wind chime sang quietly in the distance. The patroness of the estate met us at the gate and we drove in her car down a gravel road that curved along a woody hillside, and then dropped into a green valley.

"It has been in my family for a long time," she said as we passed a group of large, abandoned farm buildings with a ghostly air. Later we learned that Mussolini gave the farm to her grandfather, and that it accounts for thousands of acres many of which are uncultivated woods.

Finally we arrived at a large house surrounded by a tall, ancient-looking wall. On one side fields of vegetables stretched on to the surrounding hills, and on the other long-horned cattle roamed through verdant pastures. In the yard within the wall, two large white geese bathed in a pool of water while a stout goat lay in the sun against the wall of the house.

We entered into a large kitchen. Two Italian coffee makers sat on the stove ready for action. In the next room, a group of workers sat around a large table eating lunch. We sat down with them and ate our first meal with the group

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Usually we wake up at dawn. There's just enough time to make some espresso and eat a handful of olives and some bread before we head outside to start working. If we go to the fields we harvest leeks, fennel, broccoli, lettuce, cabbage, and even chicory, the edible weed used in coffee in New Orleans. Other days we chop wood, trim hedges in the large garden of the guest house, or herd cattle. Whatever work we do, we go at it until about one, when we all eat lunch together. This is one of the best times of the day. Exhausted and hungry we all gather round the table for a hot meal and conversation that lasts about an hour. The meal is always vegetarian and made with ingredients harvested on the farm. Pasta carbonara, hearty bean soup, and cheesy casserole are a few of the main dishes we've had, always accompanied by fresh salad and cooked vegetables (like broccoli or fennel), olives, and bread. It is easy for long periods of silence to set in as we all eat, but as soon as the plates are cleaned conversation starts. Here are the main characters:

Carmela is the boss of the ranch. She's from Romania, and she raised the fat Tibetan goat named "Dalai" like her own child. Now she spends half her time either scolding Dalai for eating eveything in sight or soothing her in Romanian baby-talk. Carmela does a lot of work. It's hard to imagine the farm functioning without her. From gathering vegetables in the field and organizing shipments to stores, to making lunch for all the workers, to preparing endless gifts for the owner's friends, Carmela does it all. She's a good leader, and she's also warm and generous. One day her eyes lit up and asked us, "have you read the Twilight books?" She's read them all five times now. When I asked her if I could borrow a book in Italian, she said, "what kind do you want? I mostly have love stories."

Bogodan is Carmela's brother, and is almost always at her side. Apart from Kate, who's American, he's the only person on the farm who speaks English. He learned it all from TV and music, and he sometimes plays music on his phone when we're working in the fields. Leonard Cohen is one of his favorites. Carmela says that he's married to his computer, and his reticence reminds me a little of a game-addicted adolescent. Bogodan warms up after awhile, and I've come to appreciate his dry sense of humor. Here's one joke he told me in the field:

"Long time ago God and Devil make deal. They say, we gonna let people decide who they wanna worship. The Devil say he will go under the ground, and anyone that want to worship him is gonna go there. And God say he will go in the sky and make the rain and thunder, and those that believe in him are gonna go there." Bogodan looks at me with the faintest trace of a smile. "How many people do you see buried in the sky?"

Antonio is Carmela's husband. He's from Sardinia, the large island north of Sicily. Short and muscular, Antonio has a booming voice that fills the room at lunch and echoes through the valleys when he's calling the cows. He speaks in Italian in a rapid, guttural fashion, now and then breaking into a wide grin followed by a contagious laugh.

Kate is an American who lives on the farm while pursuing a Master's degree at a University in Rome. She has a lot of experience farming and we all have fun working together.

Mahomet (Mohammed) is a political refugee from the African nation of Guinea. He's working at the farm to obtain a goverment license that will allow him to be employed in Italy. French is his first language, and he often drops the endings of Italian verbs, much to the chagrin of Antonio and Italo. Everything Italian amuses him, and he often gets into heated discussions about world politics and Italian culture with Antonio and Italo.

Italo is the farm's mechanic. Barrel-chested and wide as he is long, Italo resembles Clemenza, and he speaks in an almost unintelligible slur of Italian. Everything arouses an impassioned response from him. Something you learn in Italy is that this is just how you are supposed to speak about things. If you give the slightest damn about something it is essential to gesture theatrically with your hands and raise your voice in a melodic rush of words. It is even better if you seem overwhelmed by irritation and anger, punctuating your statements with colorful sacrilegious phrases.

We all eat lunch together and then head back to work until sunset. This is the most peaceful time of the day. As the sun sets over the fields we play with the dogs, gather wood, and build the fire in the house. I usually make coffee for Carmela and myself, while she's finishing up paperwork at her desk. This is when we get to talk to her about food, people, animals, books, and everything else under the sun. Slowly everybody goes to their apartments and only the three of us remain. We like to sit around the fire and drink a little wine, eat some dinner, play cards. There's not a TV, so we have to entertain ourselves. We're always in bed by ten, and up early for another day of work on the farm.