Lorenzo Cester

Story

Lorenzo Cester

Born: Passagno Italy-1943

Year of Migration: 1956

My mother, Marianella met met my father, Antonio Cester during the Second World War. My mother lived in a little village called Cunial, which was also her maiden name; they married in 1942.

I was born in Possagno, Italy in 1943 to Antonio and Marianella (Cunial) Cester.After the war, there were a lot of political movement. It was not unusual to see someone hanging from a tree; those that supported the Fascists. Italy ended up in a bad way at that time. We had nothing over there [Italy]. People who had farms still survived. They stuck to farming and they ended up quite well. If you had nothing, well you had to walk away. That\’s why we had to migrate. Somebody had to go, and we went.

My father migrated to Broken Hill in 1953 and my mother, my sister and I joined him in 1956. We sailed on the ship.Australia. We came through the Straits; we stopped at Naples, Port Said, Suez Canal, Port of Aden and Colombo. The war between Egypt and the French for control of the Suez Canal was happening and our boat was the last boat to come through the Suez Canal for about ten or eleven years. We were escorted through by two frigates.

My mother was on one side of the boat with my sister and I was on the other side. I slept in a hammock and shared a cabin with twenty- five men. Two-thirds of the boat accommodated three hundred people and the other third accommodated two thousand people.

We docked in Melbourne, stayed overnight and caught an Australian National Airlines plane and landed in Mildura. From there we flew to Broken Hill.

It was one of those typical Broken Hill days. It was a real red dust storm that day and my mother started crying. We were told we were coming to the bush. The word bush over in Italy has got a different meaning to here!

In 1959, when I was fifteen, we finally bought our house. Mum was only there for about three days when she died. Life was very difficult then. One family of Italian friends helped us. They understood and we knew them well.

I attended Marist Brothers College and there were probably half a dozen or more migrant kids. Some had been there probably a bit longer. We all stuck together. People wondered why that was but it was more comfortable. We felt more secure.

I served my builder\’s apprenticeship with De Franceshi Brothers and Mario Gava. Then I worked for myself.

I played a lot of soccer when I was young. In my time, when I played for United it was mainly migrants. Later, it was three- quarters Australians and the rest were from parents that came from Italy.

I married Marie Kelly in 1969 and started a family. We have four children, Andrina, Adrian, Erica and Luigina, all living away from Broken Hill. People say to me ‘Why don\’t you teach your kids Italian?\’ Why? We are Australian now.

I\’ve always been involved with both the Broken Hill and Italian community. We contribute to community events such as Australia Day. I\’ve been involved in the Catholic Church and schools. I still am, in a very minor way through the Old Collegians and the Knights of the Southern Cross.

Broken Hill has given me forty-seven good years. My family\’s here. My life is here. That\’s it isn\’t it? It says everything. If I didn\’t like it I would have left a long time ago. I don\’t mind it. Broken Hill has been good to me.

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