From camp barracks to living free in Australia part IV

 Part IV of the Binkevicius journey to Australia.

On Wednesday, July 28, 1949, our train arrived at Aversa station. The electric train split off, and we were pushed onto the spare tracks by an old steam locomotive. The area in front of the wagons was a mess, with pools of stinking water, which assaulted our senses and hinted that the pristine cleanliness of Germany was nowhere to be found. An Italian man passed by, selling small melons—watermelons for 30 lira each.  My family bought one. Soon, a truck arrived at each wagon, and the people climbed into it with their belongings.  Everything was new to us, and we found it all quite interesting.

We drove through dusty streets, entering the Aversa camp, which was made up of white brick houses that reminded us of Africa. We were lined up for about half an hour under the scorching sun in an open square before we were assigned our apartments. We were given beds in a common clean barrack, number 37. There were no tables or benches, just beds. The washrooms had sufficient water, but the heat in the camp was unbearable. A few days later, we were given a separate room in barrack 17 because, in our original barrack, two children were coughing suspiciously—likely suffering from whooping cough. The other families and I were deeply concerned for our son and daughter. The camp was extremely hot, with temperatures reaching 45–53°C during August, making it nearly impossible to work or sleep. The heat was overwhelming, and we hoped it wouldn't be so unbearable in Australia.

In this camp, people had no trouble venturing into the city. They could go in and out, even after dark, up until 11 PM.  The darkness here arrived much earlier than in Germany or Lithuania—by 8 PM, it was already night. However, this had its advantages, as only in the dark, when the temperature dropped slightly, did the streets come alive.  Italians would gather on the sidewalks in front of their apartments, chatting, playing cards, drinking beer or wine. Shops stayed open late into the night, and trade flourished after dark.  During the day, commerce was only half as busy.  Many people in Italy lived in poverty, which wasn’t surprising, considering that work was hard to come by, and the unemployment rate stood at 4 million.  Little children, some no older than 3 or 4, could often be seen helping their parents with work. You’d see a group of children pushing a two-wheeled cart, their skin sunburned, ragged clothes, always dirty, and almost all of them barefoot. There were very few people dressed well.

The wealthy had beautiful apartments with lovely gardens, but most shops were very basic. Goods were often displayed on the doors of homes or in boxes on the street, turning the sidewalk into an informal market. You could see food products—hams, sausages, and bacon—hanging out in the open, collecting dust and attracting flies. These images were unfamiliar to us, especially when the streets were filled with all kinds of smells. As the heat subsided, the streets became a frenzy of movement—trucks, cars, cyclists, and carts all driving at high speed. Car horns blared loudly, and drivers competed to make the most noise, in line with the Italian temperament.

One particularly memorable street scene:  A boy was leading a goat down the street. He stopped in front of a house where a milk jug was lowered to him by a rope from the second floor. He immediately began milking the goat, then poured the fresh milk into the jug.  After that, he moved on to the next house. It was an interesting sight—selling milk straight from the source. Perhaps it was also a way to avoid milk fraud, as there seemed to be many tricksters among the poor.

Every day, a fruit vendor would drive past our camp with his cart, often pulled by a donkey or a horse. The fruit sellers used simple, unstamped scales—bezmenus—which, in their hands, became their trusted tools. These scales often showed the weight that the seller wanted, and it was hard to argue with them. They’d roll their eyes, and if you bargained, they’d give you a “discount” by adjusting the weight.  It became clear that the entire family was involved in the business, and the children quickly learned the tricks of the trade from an early age.  Our fellow displaced people picked up a bit of the Italian language, learning phrases like "Prima" or "Prima gruški"—which sounded more like a local lexicon than standard Italian. These scenes often reminded us not of Europe, but of some far-eastern country.

At the camp's market, future Australian citizens would often sell various items, like shoes, old watches, and clothes.  Much of what was sold came from charitable organizations—Balfour, UNRRA, Ireland, and others—at incredibly low prices. The fruit was cheap as well: lemons were 100–180 lira per kg, tomatoes, peaches, apples, and pears cost 20–30 lira per kg, and grapes went for about 80 lira per kg.  Over the 2-3 weeks we spent in the camp, the displaced people sold much of their belongings, clearing out their suitcases of "stolen goods." These sales were sometimes quite comical, as many of the vendors were just trying to make a living. The market often took place along the barbed wire fence surrounding the camp.

From the street to the fence, Italians and migrants alike were engaged in a unique form of trade. The migrants, after escaping years of hardship in German camps, had a renewed sense of cheer and optimism. Their mood was lighter, sometimes even carefree. In the early days, however, there was a certain wariness and distrust between the two groups. The displaced people would hold onto the end of a garment or, for example, offer only one shoe over the fence, with the money being exchanged at the same time. This setup required some coordination—the left hand would hold the end of the item, while the right hand would make sure the money made it across. But over time, trust was built, and solidarity began to emerge between both sides.

Italians, understandably, tried to buy at the cheapest possible price, minimizing their risk. Even if the item turned out to be of poor quality when they got home, they wouldn't suffer any significant loss. Many of the negotiations were done from a distance. An Italian would sit on a stone about 10 meters away, while the migrant vendors, standing behind the barbed wire fence, would display the item and indicate the price with their fingers, usually in hundreds of lire. The Italian would respond with a lower offer, signalling a reduced price with fewer fingers. This became a common way of striking deals.

A lot of the trading took place in the evening, in the dark, and on the open street. When the vendors wanted to sell alarm clocks, they would ring the bell, drawing the attention of potential buyers. Italians would rush toward the sound of the bell. Interestingly, the Italian police tolerated these "bargains" and even took part in the exchanges themselves. After leaving your food card with the guard, you were allowed to venture outside the camp for about half an hour to engage in the trade.  One young man
even came to the realization that shoes looked better on the foot than when displayed in hand. So, he went to the market wearing shoes and came back barefoot. It was certainly a moment that brought laughter to all involved.

I won’t bore the reader with lengthy descriptions of our excursions to Pompeii, Capri, or Naples. Those trips were memorable and full of joy, and we will cherish them for a long time.  We explored and marvelled at the sights, feeling like "the richest of the rich," and all of it was achieved with just a few packs of cigarettes.

It’s difficult to convey everything in the few lines of a newspaper, but it seems these notes serve as historical documents. They tell the story of the thousands of Lithuanians who, having lost their homeland, sought hospitality and humanity in far-off Australia. Perhaps these descriptions deserve to be published separately, so that future generations can understand the journey their fathers took—the struggles, the hardships, and the resilience of the people who endured those times.