Workers by day, homeless at night

They are Italian, they are between 35 and 65 and they often have a pension or a real job. But at night, instead of going back to their homes, they take the last bus-ride from the city centre and they go spend the night on the seats of Linate, the Milan city airport.

At about 11 p.m., as the high number of passengers, accompaniers and taxi drivers who during the day have crowded the airport decrease, those who remain are a new generation of tramps.

Perfectly unrecognizable, at least until the moment in which they remain alone in the waiting room and they lie down on two or three chairs of the bar, covering themselves up with a blanket and using their overnight bags as pillows.

They are 25 people, all born in Italy, and who don’t like doss-houses, full of dirt and infectious diseases.

Just half an hour before the airport empties, two men dressed almost the same talk in front of Linate’s entrance. One is an employee of the company managing Milan’s two airports (Linate and Malpensa ), the other one is a tramp, but it’s impossible to distinguish them.

The tramp is the one out of the two with the highest job title. “I graduated in electronic engineering in Rome and worked for over 30 years in multinational companies such as Westinghouse in Germany and Philips in Holland”, says Nello, aged 65. “As of September I have been sleeping in the departure area of the airport because I don’t have enough money to make it to the end of the month.

I have asked for my pension, but in the meantime I don’t get a single cent. And even with the 700 euros of government subsidy, it is impossible to manage to pay 500 euros of rent and meet other costs”.

Franco, ex member of the Alpine troops who worked as a border guard is the most distinguished among Linate’s tramps. When he speaks on the phone on the bench he could easily pass for a tourist, but around midnight he starts to set the chairs to lie down.

“During my lifetime, I have traveled the world,” he reveals.

“I was a bus driver for years, today I am a widower and I have two children aged 30 and 35 who live in another city. I was on a waiting list for 10 years for council houses, then I had to resign myself that my new residence would be Linate.

Matteo is 42 years old and he spends the night giving directions to passengers who can’t find their boarding gate.

“Up until one year ago I had a home and a job,” he says, “I was a waiter in Ravenna and I spoke English perfectly. Then came the crisis and I was fired unexpectedly. Social assistants offered me a “reinsertion programme”, as if I was a drug addict.

In the middle of many separated husbands, there is a couple who lives together: Ugo, 64, and Donatella. “Among the people spending the night at the airport there are also those who have a normal day job,” explains Ugo, “ whereas I have a government subsidy, my partner has a disability pension: we reach together 850 euros per month”.

Italian citizen Antonio, 55, is just a phantom for the State.

“I lost my wallet with my papers months ago and since then it is as if I didn’t exist anymore,” he complains.

“Before, I was living in a house in the south of Milan, but as I couldn’t pay the rent they evicted me, removed my residence and imposed a registry block.”

Everyone takes advantage of hot meals that Opera San Francesco per i poveri (a non profit organization, founded in 1959 by Milan’s Capuchin friars, that offers free assistance and welcome to poor people) puts at people’s disposal in the city centre, highlighting that they appreciate this free service.  The same cannot be said for the dorms managed by the Municipality of Milan.

“There is more privacy here than in those 150 people dormitories, and then at least we don’t risk to get scabies and bathrooms are decent,” observes Nello. Clean bathrooms can make a big difference for those who have to go to work in the morning after having spent a night on a bench.

At about 6 o’ clock, before passengers start to arrive, the homeless get up and go wash themselves, shaving with care. Then they take their overnight bag, that during the night served as a pillow, and they head towards the bus-stop with a hurried step, much in the same way as the rest of the Milanese.

By Pietro Vernizzi

Translated from Vita magazine by Cristina Barbetta.