Italians worry quake-struck town will be abandoned, lost forever

Cold mountain spring water continues to pour out of old taps above a trough on the edge of the piazza in the small hamlet of San Giovanni di Accumoli in the Italian hills hit by last week's deadly earthquake. 

Butterflies flit and bees hover next to deep purple flowers in gardens carefully laid out beside old houses overlooking a lush, green valley. But everything else in this small hamlet seems still, frozen in time.

• CBC IN ITALY Trying to mourn the dead after quake leaves graves open in Italy
• CBC IN ITALY 36 coffins in a gymnasium: An Italian town mourns its earthquake victims

Then you notice that the church on the other side of the piazza is missing one of its walls, now a pile of rubble on the ground, as if a giant claw had come in and swiped it away, exposing its innards: a dust-covered pulpit, a crucifix askew. 

The seeming peacefulness of the place is in stark contrast to the violent heaving beneath the earth that brought it and so many other buildings down across the quake zone, entombing hundreds.     

'Ciao Amore'

Across from the church another building is missing a hunk of wall, exposing the bedroom Adriano Piscatelli and his wife were sleeping in when the earthquake struck at 3:36 a.m. local time last Wednesday, killing at least 290 people. 

"There was a devastatingly loud noise and then debris started falling on us from all over," he said. "We waited for it to finish and then we rushed out of the house and started calling all of the neighbours to see who was there.

"There was one who didn't answer." 

Giampaolo Pace was a 43-year-old member of Italy's military police force. His house had caved in on itself. People came from all around to dig with picks and shovels, but they had to wait for heavier equipment. 

They were not in time. Pace's body was found in his bed. Doors and picture frames and the hood of a car all peek out from the debris that used to be his home.

Mourners have left a purple orchid in amongst the grey concrete. Someone's hung a jersey on a fence poll reading "Ciao Amore," or "Goodbye, my love."

While we were there, two of his comrades came looking for the house, wanting to offer a private farewell.

'​The desire to come back is very strong'

Piscatelli has come back to his family home in San Giovanni along with his sister, to salvage what personal treasures they can — and to look for the family cat, Tigre, who disappeared the night of the quake. 

Touring Italy quake devastation

8 years ago

Duration 2:21

Many affected communities are now ghost towns, CBC's Margaret Evans reports

The house is really off-limits, behind strips of police tape used to signal no-go areas. The siblings step carefully as they move up and down a staircase inside a house riddled with deep cracks.  There have been more than 1,000 aftershocks or tremors and many buildings remain structurally unsound. 

Like many Italians, Piscatelli worries that if these little hamlets are not quickly repaired, they'll disappear, along with the memories he's come hoping to save. The Italian government's track record on rebuilding after natural disasters is poor. 

Piscatelli has been coming to the house for more than 50 years, since he was born, and says that the possibility of not coming back is like a knife to his heart. 

"The desire to come back is very strong," he says, "but at the moment we have no idea."

It will depend on how much assistance the government plans to offer in rebuilding he says.

It will also, no doubt, depend on his own frame of mind.

"I've been thinking about all this part of my life which is now gone," he says.  "About the person we've lost here, about all those memories we have here and all the things we've experienced."

And one more thing — Tigre. 

His little cat was found hiding under the bed and now sits tucked up in a small cat cage, meowing to get out. 

"At least something good," says Piscatelli.