Lonely but not always. Scruffy but kind. Silent but capable of holding back and chatting for a long time, if there was confidence: with a property of language that struck, he gladly spoke of the good old days, of when he was a big shot in the meat trade between Cagliari and hinterland, and everything (in love and business) seemed to turn him best. Here, according to those who met him every day, what kind was Eraldo (in the registry office, but for all Aldo) Serra, the 78-year-old pensioner who disappeared in thin air for more than a month in Sinnai. According to the report of the carabinieri he died in recent weeks due to an illness, and the body would have been torn to pieces by his dogs (seven) or perhaps by other animals.
The house where the man had settled after a period of homelessness in Cagliari is in via Sant'Elena, on the outskirts. Two floors, a courtyard, an external wall. Here Aldo Serra left his last traces: tattered clothing, cap, mobile phone, keys, wallet with some banknotes inside, dragging marks from the kitchen to the bathroom and, if they were his, two teeth. From the celestial gate, beyond which dogs barking, two men of about forty come out. "Relatives?" They nod their heads yes. Novelty? They shake their heads: "Excuse us, we're leaving."
The usual ride
Every morning Aldo Serra, slightly limping, walked along via Sant'Elena to the intersection with via Giardini. Here all the shopkeepers, up to "before Christmas", saw him every day. And they tell, provided (almost all) not to see their name in the newspaper: because Aldo Serra has had a terrible end and, in short, better not.
Market Sigma: "He bought a beer and a sandwich and sat down to eat there, in front of the emergency exit, under the pomegranate, on a plastic chair," says the owner. “The last few times he was thinner than usual. And pale. Usually he came alone, but occasionally he was accompanied by some friends: generally younger than him, people not from Sinnai. I had an argument with one of these friends last year because he didn't want to wear a mask and left some vaccine flyers on the shelves. Mr. Aldo no, he never gave problems. Sometimes, yes, he forgot to put the mask on: I asked him to put it on and he, very kind, smiling, apologized. The next day, however, he would return without. Sometimes I thought he was making fun of me, with all his kindness. '
The golden times
The butcher of the market had met him in his heyday: «These days he is not on duty - continues the owner - otherwise he would have told of his first meeting with Mr. Aldo. Many years ago, at the slaughterhouse in Cagliari, there were two very large oxen to work and an expert butcher was expected. And here comes this little guy. The young people looked at each other: "Imagine", they said to themselves. Instead, Signor Aldo, small and skinny as he was, had gone to work and in a few minutes the big oxen were slaughtered in a workmanlike manner. He knew how to do it, his job. "
Going up via Giardini, on the left, there is Alessandra Cinus's butcher's shop for horse meat: «He came every day», say the owner and Marco Lianas. “We kept aside the bones for the dogs, which he was very fond of. Every now and then we gave him something for him too: we knew he was not doing well but he insisted on paying, maybe five euros, always with great dignity. There was no time when he did not congratulate himself on the quality of the meat and often spoke with nostalgia for the old days, about what the trade was like when he was still working in the sector ».
Toscanelli and coffee
Then he went into Salis & Tabacchi: «He bought a packet of Toscanelli and two tickets from Arst every day. He used to go to Cagliari every day, ”says the young saleswoman. The stop is a few meters away. Particular signs? "Smiling, kind, a little careless."
Next door is the Leonardo Bistrot. "He drank coffee from us every day," recall the young baristas. «Lately - they confide - he seemed less lucid. The speeches were more confused. One evening, a year ago, in the square in front of the market, the carabinieri had to intervene: Mr. Aldo was lying on the ground and shouting rambling phrases. The next day he was back the kind gentleman he always had. '
On the opposite side of the road is the “Eredi Gavino Asuni” artisan bakery. «A great talker», the 'heirs' smile: «Gallant and complimenting, he liked to hold back and talk». But what about? "He told stories, memories of the old days: of everything, except the family."
A friendship
The only one who has the courage to call herself "her friend" is a petite woman in her sixties. “He was a very lonely man. Occasionally he also spoke to himself. One day he would never stop asking what the man his wife had remarried to so many years ago had more than him. He still hadn't gotten over the business. ' The friendship was born recently: «Two years ago I stopped to talk to him. He had a very thorough vocabulary, it was pleasant to listen to him. He asked me for a courtesy: to clean his house, here in via Sant'Elena. At the time, it had neither light nor water. The house was dirty. After all, a lonely man, at a certain age ... I said to him: "Why don't you find a woman?" And he: "Who do you want to come and live in these conditions?" I did a couple of hours of cleaning, paid my due. He was generous, poor thing: once I saw him give ten euros to a boy who asked him for something ».
The relations between the two friends had already been interrupted before Covid: «My son did not like that I attended him. People might see him eating bread and cheese sitting on the sidewalk: it didn't make a good impression. And there were bad rumors about him but believe me: he was a good heart. And he loved life. On the contrary, I'm sure of one thing: anything could have happened, unless he killed himself. He would never have done that. '
Marco Noce
Sent
