The Unseen. Nanni Balestrini
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China and I stay with a group that’s throwing broken cobblestones and next to us we find Cotogno Valeriana and Nocciola we see the carabinieri starting out at a run to charge then some comrades move a few cars into the middle of the road a couple of petrol bombs on the cars and the carabinieri are lost behind the flames and the clouds of black smoke a hundred yards ahead there’s a group that’s got it in for a Rolls Royce the bodywork battered with sticks and crowbars stones hailed on the windows and a petrol bomb there too and the boss’s car makes a nice bonfire we play hide and seek a little while longer with the carabinieri through the streets of the centre finally we scatter and we all meet again at the station
all our eyes are stinging and we keep rubbing them even though it makes it worse and there’s also the stinking smell of teargas in our nostrils we wash our eyes at the water fountain Malva turns up she’s had a fall she’d come in high heels she hit her nose and it’s all grazed Gelso’s glasses fell off as usual and in the melee someone smashed them and and he can hardly see now Verbena breathed in a lot of gas she feels sick and she’s going to throw up Ortica arrives lifting the skirt of his raincoat to show us a big black truncheon we very nearly brought back something else didn’t we Cocco Cocco found a rifle on the ground they’d even lost one of their rifles you should have seen Cocco running along like an ostrich with the rifle in his hand everyone was laughing and clapping but then we threw it away what were we going to do with a rifle
another time one evening in mid-April on television there’s the news of a comrade’s murder a fascist shot him he was seventeen and there’s an immediate spontaneous reaction in the morning we all meet on the train for the city the same faces the same tennis shoes the jackets the shoulder bags the scarves the kerchiefs the gloves the berets the carriages are packed people are standing in the corridors nobody’s talking and at each station more get on on the walls of the villages we pass through you can see the fresh graffiti the same words that can be read on the silent faces of the comrades at the last stations in the suburbs a tide of people gets on pressing on the platforms they’ve got plastic bags with helmets in them and under their jackets spanners bars iron rods in their pockets slings ball-bearings bolts
when we arrive there’s a long procession filling the platform and it’s moving up the stairs of the metro no one’s bothering with tickets and in the carriages there are flags and the long poles for the banners someone has a go at singing but the mood is grim threatening we reach the university in the square in front of the university there’s a tide of people but not just students not just young people all ages are there old people too there are workers in overalls with red kerchiefs round their necks the demonstration is already there drawn up ready to go the stewards in front kerchiefs masking half their faces and the heavy sticks with small red flags tied on there’s a dull rumbling sound then a shout and a slogan launched murdered comrade you’ll be avenged everyone together a roar and the demonstration sets off
in front of the law courts in front of the steps there are ranks of riot police poised for battle with teargas canisters stuck onto the muzzles of their guns and helmet visors down the demonstration comes to a sudden halt and slogans are launched against the police the tension mounts seriously the demonstration moves on again and then stops once more in a square hoisted up on the base of the obelisk that’s in the middle of the square I see an old man with a red kerchief at his neck lifting a bugle to his lips and sounding the call for silence and at once there’s a fearful silence you can only hear the bugle’s high notes when the bugle stops there’s a roar a great roar all around thousands of fists are raised all armed with bars and spanners
in the streets we cross all the shops are closed the shutters are all rolled down and then suddenly all the helmets go on I can see row after row an expanse of coloured helmets like a sea of billiard balls coloured red white blue green black the demonstration stops in the avenue at a crossroads there ahead just a few yards past the crossroads is a roadblock cars jeeps super-jeeps lock up vans of the police and carabinieri protecting the fascists’ headquarters that’s a few yards behind the roadblock the front of the march with the stewards is at a halt a few yards away from the roadblock the spanners and the bars are raised threateningly police and carabinieri close ranks and take cover behind the shields stones are thrown in a hail that seems never-ending you can hear the thud of the stones as they hit the shields and the policemen’s helmets
dozens of petrol bombs fly through the air then come the blasts loud as can be yellow red blue they make a high wall of flames ahead of us some jeeps have caught fire the police break ranks they all turn and run tripping and stumbling in their flight one more volley of petrol bombs and other cars are catching fire a cloud of black smoke you can’t see a thing any more then you hear the dull thumps of the teargas canisters that hail down on us by the dozen a downpour of teargas that rains on us from all sides in a single moment the air becomes impossible to breathe the stewards’ lines move back and get to the road junction they stop at the junction behind in the avenue the march has crumbled and suddenly from the end of the avenue we hear the piercing sirens of a column of super-jeeps
the sirens get closer louder and louder I hear shouting all around then suddenly everyone’s running towards the sides of the avenue towards the pavement and all at once as the crowd parts there appears a huge grey-green super-jeep driven at top speed brushing right past us I’m running on the pavement as well more super-jeeps arrive from the column the sirens really close ear splitting stones and a few petrol bombs are thrown at the super-jeeps whose windows are guarded by iron grilles flames rise up from the side of one so many of them that they seem never-ending from the pavements the comrades are still throwing stones and petrol bombs they’re shooting ball-bearings and screw bolts with slings I see a super-jeep zigzagging in the middle of the avenue and then aiming straight for the pavement
people fling themselves against the walls of the houses they scramble up the grilles the shutters of the shops onto the first-floor windowsills the super-jeeps mount the pavement they graze the walls they brush against us I scramble up the grille of a shutter everyone is trying to scramble up but there isn’t room for everyone people hang on to one another the super-jeeps come on to the pavement scraping against the walls of the houses brushing against us one two three I hold my breath and close my eyes someone near me is screaming in terror I keep holding on to the grille even when the column has gone by and I can see the last super-jeep that has brushed against us and then kind of jolts and suddenly turns towards the middle of the road I can hear a lot of screaming all coming from the place where the super-jeep turned round
very loud screaming shouting I see a lot of comrades running in that direction I can’t see a thing there’s smoke and confusion they all have red eyes crying with the teargas I get down from the shutter and head over there running with others we collide with others coming from the opposite direction anguished faces staring eyes some lower their kerchiefs one’s running his hands through his hair I can’t see what’s happened there’s a group of comrades standing in a semi-circle some are weeping it’s not with the teargas some are sobbing one girl shouts something I don’t understand then further on I see the bloody body on the ground I see the long trail of dark blood and further on I see the reddish mass of brains the wheels of the super-jeep have spattered out of it out of the head spattered out
4
Then suddenly a puzzling still image that I couldn’t quite make sense of it wasn’t a photograph because inside the frame were hints of movement there was the intense glare of a floodlight it must have been filmed at night something shot very close up so close that you could make out nothing in any detail there was no commentary there was only that mute puzzling image I could hear only the rustle of China’s fingers rolling the joint then the camera lens zoomed back to focus on a head a man’s head the head lay on a stain a broad red stain and there was a red stripe coming