Leggi l’articolo completo in italiano: cliccami
Read the full story in English: cliccami

✨ “A light shining in Montenerodomo, a ship sailing to Australia. The flame that connects home and distance never goes out.”
👉 Testimony collected for the column “Monteneresi in the World”
This is the memory of Rosa Gentile, daughter of Maria (Panacce) and Francesco (d’Unghio).
From the war in Montenerodomo to emigration in Australia, her story tells of sacrifice, hope, and roots that never fade away.
Rosa’s Memory
I was fifteen when the war reached Montenerodomo. The Germans blew up the town with mines, and our house was destroyed as well. We had to move to the countryside. When we came back, I fell ill with typhus. It seemed I was about to die, but an American soldier gave my mother some pills: the fever dropped, and I recovered.
Soon after, my father returned from England, where he had been a prisoner. Before coming back to Montenerodomo, he stopped in Bari to meet my brothers Enrico and Fedele. My fiancé, Domenico Gentile, was there too. Domenico took the chance and told my father that he was my “husband.” My parents didn’t want me to marry him, so when Domenico returned from Bari, we made a plan and ran away together.
We went to live in the house of Norina and Cosimo di Nicomé, in San Vito, Domenico’s cousins. After three months we were married and living with my in-laws. That’s where my first two children, Carlo and Maria, were born. They were baptized by Filomena di Mastantonje and Antonio di Muschitt.
The Hard Years After the War
After the war, there was no work in Montenerodomo. Domenico left for Belgium, where he worked in the mines with my brother Michele. They decided to come back just before the mine collapsed, saving themselves by pure luck. We realized that to build a future we had to emigrate.
👉 Here Rosa and Domenico’s story joins that of many Monteneresi. The Belgian mines were the first harsh step for hundreds of men from the village: the darkness underground, the daily toil, the constant risk of not returning home. A chapter that marked an entire generation.
With the help of Pietro Carozza, who prepared the documents, Domenico left in 1955 for Australia on the ship Castel Felice. Three years later, I followed him with our two children, Carlo and Maria, traveling on the ship Oceania.
When we arrived at Fremantle, in Western Australia, nobody was there to meet us. Carlo, still a child, said: “Mamma, we must go back to La Portella, because daddy is not coming.” A little later Domenico arrived, out of breath: he hadn’t been able to finish in time because he was painting the house every evening after work. That very night, he organized a party to welcome us, together with all the fellow villagers.
A New Life in Australia
To earn more, Domenico went to work in Darwin, in Northern Australia, where the tropical climate made him so thin that he looked like another man.
👉 These are powerful images, speaking of the emigrants’ sacrifice: bodies worn by work, the distance from loved ones, the longing for home. And yet, the strength to start again every time – a mark of Monteneresi all over the world.
With patience and sacrifice, we built our first house. In 1966 our third child, Franco, was born. Then the children grew up, built their own lives, and our family lived in peace and unity – even though today we mourn the loss of my husband and of my son Carlo.
Australia became our land, but our hearts always turned back to Montenerodomo. I returned to Italy seven times: five with my husband and twice alone. Each time I found friends and fellow villagers, moments of joy and celebration.
Roots That Remain
Even after all these years in Australia, I have kept the traditions of my village: in the food, in the values of family, in the sense of community. I can proudly say I am still a woman of Montenerodomo.
👉 Rosa’s words remind us that identity cannot be measured in kilometers. Wherever they went, Monteneresi carried their village with them, turning nostalgia into strength and memory into future.
📖 This story is part of the Monteneresi emigration memories: voices of sacrifice, departure, and roots that remain alive wherever in the world they went.