Houtan Bastani
Italy
May 2004
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Mamma Mia
After studying Italian for two and a half years, including a summer in Florence spent living with a family and taking an intensive Italian course, I thought I was fairly well prepared to live in Italy on my own. At one point during these formative years, I inflated my ego so much as to think I was fluent; I knew enough to think I was fluent but not enough to recognize that I wasn’t. To be honest, I never had too much trouble following conversations in Italian and was always willing to jump in with my thoughts on a given subject, even if I was prone to make grammatical errors. Needless to say, before coming to Italy, I didn’t anticipate having crippling language problems.
When I finally found some roommates and settled into my new housing arrangement, I was shocked to realize that I understood virtually nothing when they spoke. To be fair to myself it wasn’t entirely my fault; the Italian language has numerous dialects that can vary so drastically that even people from one part of Italy have difficulty understanding those from another part. Nonetheless, I couldn’t understand most of what my roommates said to each other because of my weak Italian and their strong dialect. But, from the cacophonous chatter that I heard night after night during dinner, one word in particular always caught my attention: “mamma”. I heard this word at least once every night, but more typically four or five times. “Mamma wouldn’t approve of that.” “What would mamma say?” “My mamma makes the best tiramisù.” “Mamma says…” “Mamma does…”
A common stereotype of Italians is the importance they place on family. Within a family you give, and are given, everything; it’s a tight circle of relatives who are also friends. And at the center of this circle is mamma—everything revolves around her. At least twice a day, everyone returns home to eat, be together and share their experiences. All the while mamma floats around the table serving the ones she loves. However, although it may seem on cursory examination that mamma plays the weaker role in the family, digging a little deeper you would find otherwise. I’ve found, time and time again, that Italian mothers are probably the strongest members of the household; they have the final say in most matters, are often looked to first for advice, and are revered by their children. As a result, Italy might be the only place in the world where being a mama’s boy is a respected way of life.
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