The Great Sicilian Cat Rescue (17 page)

A
fter all our telephone conversations, I was finally to meet animal welfare campaigner Suzy Gale and her husband, Roger. In December 2005, they invited me to the House of Commons for the launch of their new animal welfare project. As I walked along Victoria Street, with the sound of Big Ben chiming the hour, I wondered about the protocol for getting inside Westminster. I prowled round the building until I eventually found the side entrance. It was while my bags were being scrutinised by security that it suddenly struck me just how far I had come with Catsnip. As if in a series of snapshots, I saw Giulio and me prowling Castelmola in search of the injured cat and then the sad face of Antonella; I seemed to hear Elke’s cry of triumph as yet another feral entered our traps. Frank, Genoveffa, Dorothea… all swam through my mind. What a journey I had made in
their company! Now I was to meet representatives of some of the UK’s leading animal charities and share with them the championing of those who could not speak for themselves.

A petite blonde woman was waiting to greet me in the central lobby, a lofty stone octagonal space with a tiled floor. ‘So lovely to meet you at last,’ said Suzy in a slightly husky voice.

Roger shook my hand, then led the way along what seemed a maze of corridors, where he was constantly greeted by colleagues – I felt like royalty.

The meeting was to present the idea of launching an organisation whose goal was to alleviate the situation of feral animals, particularly cats and dogs throughout Europe. What interested me was that it would be angled towards helping those working on a small scale, such as Catsnip.

Said Suzy: ‘We don’t intend to cut across the admirable work already carried out by various organisations in the field but rather to fill a gap in the market.’

‘But surely there are organisations already dealing with this?’ a voice cut in.

Suzy was quick to pursue this. ‘Yes, of course there are, on the larger scale, but I think the idea of “one person can make a difference” might be embodied in other ways. For example, there is the tourist who sees a case of severe animal abuse or neglect and has no reference point or access to a website that could offer advice. I also think there is a need for support for small neutering and sanctuary projects, which at the moment is not catered for.’

As Suzy confirmed, she had several years of hands-on experience: ‘Some years ago, Roger and I visited the
St Nicholas Monastery of the Cats at Akrotiri in Cyprus. What we saw had a profound effect on us both. There were hundreds of sick and dying cats and kittens, exposed to the scorching sun and multiplying unchecked. I launched the Cross Cats Project, and, together with Professor Ronald Jones of Liverpool Veterinary School, we took groups of veterinary graduates to Cyprus. Over a period of three years, hundreds of cats were caught, neutered and returned to their original territories. It was an invaluable experience of hands-on work in basic conditions for these young people.’

But, she added, when this project was forced to be discontinued, sadly the improvement did not last as the cats then went on to multiply again, with local vets refusing to continue the work.

‘I was left with a small sum of money in the account. I approached a large international charity, which showed an interest in such work, but has not pursued it.’

Suzy then received a plea from ‘a lone voice on the Internet’ that one person can make a difference. She took up the cudgels and developed the idea of tourism and animal welfare. Since then she has been cheered by requests across the political parties seeking advice about animal welfare: ‘The Conservative Animal Welfare Group receives large numbers of requests for information, advice and assistance. Perhaps there is a need for such an independent organisation to be formed to deal with these matters?’

‘I’d like to point out the number of stray dogs which are killed in the UK,’ put in Clarissa Baldwin of Dogs Trust. ‘Even though this number is reduced, we still have to clean up our act.’

She was more positive about the ‘Romanian Experience’, where dogs had been neutered and returned to their location with no great hope of many being adopted. In fact, in two years, they had achieved an amazing number of 800 adoptions.

Suzy caught my eye. It was my turn to stand up and describe the work of Catsnip. As I heard myself speak and saw the rapt expressions around me, all my doubts seemed to fade. I had been strong; acted when others just sighed and turned away. Elke had been right when she’d said ‘someone has to care about them’. I’d felt so much alone but was now surrounded by people who had dedicated their lives to needy animals in a similar way. Amid a burst of applause I sat down.

‘I’ve travelled all over the place since the Cyprus experience,’ Suzy continued, ‘and it’s become clear that very little is being done to deal with the problems with feral and stray animals; many horses and donkeys are also neglected by their owners. The situation seems to be the norm in many tourist destinations.’

She smiled at me. ‘I’ve also realised that many small projects, sanctuaries and other groups in the UK and overseas need support, both in terms of finance and advice.’

‘Oh, yes!’ I couldn’t help murmuring. ‘When I began, I knew nothing – I just had to pick it up as I went along.’

This new initiative, Suzy outlined, would include a website offering advice to others trying to set up similar projects to Catsnip, information on the purchase of equipment and data on available vets and volunteers willing to help.

‘My view is that far too many tourist areas neglect the local stray animals; they are willing to take money from tourists but not to address the problems. We now expect to
be in a position to bring pressure to bear and to assist those people working in the field, to alleviate these problems with a programme of catch/neuter/return and in the long term we would obviously like to see well-run shelters established. Animal lovers have the right to go on holiday and enjoy themselves, knowing that the local stray population are receiving the care and attention they would wish.’

And so Animals Worldwide was launched. A drink in the House of Commons bar, another new experience for me, and then I was walking back along Victoria Street to catch my train. What a day it had been!

E
ver since I met Elke in 2003, I had become intrigued by her story. It was an amazing journey that had brought her from her young life in Germany during the aftermath of the Second World War to this woman who lived atop a rocky crag with its magnificent view of Isola Bella. Although she had told me she always loved animals, I marvelled at how she had come to be a
gattara
, caring for so many cats.

In my mind’s eye I saw a young woman with a stunning smile welcoming passengers at the Lufthansa desk in Frankfurt. Had one of them been the Marchese Emilio Bosurgi? Was it then her grace and warm personality had won his heart?

It was a meeting that would transform her life, taking her from the world of aviation into the literally golden industry of the Sicilian orange.

Springtime in Sicily is fragrant with the
zagara
, the local name for orange blossom; the island is renowned for its citrus fruit, and Lentini in the province of Syracuse is an important area for their cultivation. One year I took a trip to Lentini and watched the oranges being sorted at incredible speed and packed carefully for export. The father of my friend, Davide, gave me a lesson in the many varieties and many a tasting. My favourite, the Moro, has deep-red flesh and even the rind has a blush. The flavour is stronger and the aroma more intense than a regular orange. Lately it has been praised for the high level of antioxidants it contains. With its hint of raspberry the Moro’s flavour is less sweet than the Tarocco or the Sanguinello. The Moro variety is believed to have originated at the beginning of the twelfth century as a mutation of the Sanguinello Moscato. Peel a Moro and divide it into segments and you will see flesh that may range from orange veined with ruby to vivid crimson to almost black.

It must have seemed like a fairy tale when Elke moved with her husband into the sumptuous Villa Pace surrounded by its luxuriant gardens in Messina, where they spent the winters from 1960 to 1982. The villa has been described as a place of the soul. Its history is another example of the influence of the British on Sicily. It was 1817 when the English businessman William Sanderson transferred to Messina to set up his business specialising in citrus extracts. The society of that time was sharply divided between the materialist middle classes and the misery of the poor. Wealthy people like Sanderson lived on the Via Consolare Pompea. Villa Pace was one of the most important buildings in Messina and the
lifestyle in the time of Sanderson must have been very grand. In 1850, William’s son, Robert Sanderson, paid 500 ouze for a piece of land in the Pace territory. Three years later, the year of his marriage to Amalia Sarah Child, a pre-existing small villa was enlarged and restructured as a prestigious summer residence, the Villa Amalia. At the same time, rare plants and expensive trees were planted, which over time would add to the moneyed seclusion of the inhabitants. Later, this great park was further embellished by the building of the elegant little Villa Casteletto – designed for the younger members of this large and extended family.

Scarcely a year after the death of Robert Sanderson, the earthquake of 1908 caused dreadful devastation. Villa Amalia was partially but irremediably damaged, while the Casteletto was totally destroyed. This building, which only nine months before had hosted the Emperor of Germany, was a pile of rubble. The earthquake also destroyed the Palazzo Sanderson, symbolising the collapse of the economic and social position of the family after almost a century of life in Messina.

After the cataclysm, William R. Sanderson, Robert’s son, announced he had decided to sell Villa Pace. In February 1915, the new owner, Emilio Enrico Vismara, closed the chapter of Sanderson and that privileged existence in a dwelling with its fabulous view across the straits of Messina. Vismara was born in Modena in July 1873 and moved to Sicily in 1904. Here, on the island he went from success to success, among them becoming director of the General Electrical Society in Sicily (SGES).

From 1910, several significant names feature among the great financiers of the Society. Sanderson and Sons,
Oates and Bosurgi formed a limited partnership with the aim of developing production of citric acid. Apart from proving himself an excellent businessman, Vismara turned his attention to helping local children who suffered from consumption and rickets. His fortunes changed in 1929 and he gave up management of SGES and left Sicily. This was when the Bosurgi family came on the scene as new owners of the Villa. Giuseppe Bosurgi was a wealthy pharmacist who had been instrumental in helping enlarge a local hospital. He attracted the attention of Benito Mussolini, who offered him a title in recognition of his social conscience. When Bosurgi died in 1935, his work was carried on by his wife, Adriana – Elke’s future mother-in-law.

Marchese Bosurgi was once a very rich man. He and his brother, Leo, bought Isola Bella in 1954, a lucky event for the dilapidated island, for they were wealthy enough to be able to transform it. Together they created a fabulous series of rooms and apartments sculpted out of the rock. It is thanks to the brothers that the island possesses some unusual and often exotic plants, as well as the naturally occurring Mediterranean vegetation. You can see the giant
strelitzia
and the dragon tree side by side with indigenous species such as white kale, Ionian lemon and the curiously named ‘bluebottle’ of Taormina. There are many insects, and lizards including one native to the island. A very colourful little chap, the scarlet shade of its stomach appears to fade or deepen according to the season.

Some birds live here the whole year, some for a few months and yet others may come to rest for a couple of days during their migration. You can glimpse the herring gull
and the kingfisher, while the peregrine falcon and the alpine swift actually live on the rocky walls. Shrubby vegetation shelters hundreds of birds, too, such as the colourful hoopoe and little owl.

It is thanks to the Bosurgi family that so much and varied wildlife may be seen. They always worked in harmony with the inherent nature of the island and tried to preserve and embellish its environment.

Celebrities, ship owners and entrepreneurs all accepted an invitation to visit Isola Bella. Hollywood’s Elizabeth Taylor was just one guest whose little boat slipped quietly across the bay to anchor at the foot of the island. Passengers climbed the secret path as if entering a fairy tale, orchestrated by the Bosurgi. All responded to the peace and privacy that had taken years to create. Renzo Barbera, a local poet who writes so movingly about his beloved Taormina, was another guest who remembers the scale and generosity of their hospitality.

As Elke told me: ‘From about 1960, we were constantly asked to show the island to all the important persons who came for holidays, conventions or happenings to Taormina. I was always being asked for a tour of the place and everybody was driven for a sightseeing tour in a motorboat to admire Taormina from the sea. After that, we offered them a strong drink before leaving and, on many occasions, they enjoyed a good lunch at the pool, which Emilio had built, in between the rocks. We never invited people to come at night – that would have been dangerous because the lighting was very poor and people could have been hurt.

‘It was during those years that a very prestigious award was launched, the David di Donatello, which would be presented
at the Greek Theatre in Taormina, during the Film Festival. It attracted film-makers, actors, directors, producers and script-writers. The town thronged with celebrities.

‘We had everybody as our guests; as well as many famous Formula One race drivers, important international company owners and managers, I welcomed scientists and writers, and nobility from all over the world. It was an amazing time of my life!’

The years have passed and Emilio is now over ninety, still in thrall to Isola Bella, the subject of so many of his paintings. From the terrace of the house, Elke can gaze towards that magical dwelling on Isola Bella and remember the happy days spent there.