WORLD NEWS FOR MONTENEGRO DIASPORA
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Stefania Carnevolle, an Italian journalist, spent the last period of her professional engagement in Podgorica. The editor of the newspaper she worked for wrote an interesting article about her in MILLEUNADONNA
for Vominfo, the text was translated by Dragan Vrbničanin
The death of our journalist Stefanija Carnemolla: e-mails, vents, passions, sleepless nights
Original in everything, incredible. For Stefanija Carnemolla, adjectives are not enough and can only be superlatives, because everyone who had the good fortune to meet her knows that she was an extraordinary person: intelligent, of all-round culture, curious like a sniffer dog, great sensitivity that made her fragile in the light, but at least as strong as necessary.
A really great photojournalist, a really great researcher, a journalist with broad perspectives, with whom I had the good fortune to collaborate for many years. I was her editor-in-chief, the one who asked her for articles and files, and she was simply the best anyone could ask for. Hers were not articles, but actual research, and in order to justify and deserve them, I will present some links from them at the end of this article: care in searching for all possible sources, searching for unpublished documents, elaboration of summaries worthy of a university publication. A journalist who desperately loved her job, forced to do so because of the economic constraints in which she found herself living with improvised means, with prehistoric telephones, with unstable connections, she fought as hard as she could and it was absolutely not fair to her.
Stefanija Elena Carnemolla liked to hide behind her unavailability. Down there in Montenegro, where she found the periphery of the world where she got confused, where she lost track, where she healed the wounds that Italy had inflicted on her. It was impossible to reach her by phone: she didn't have a smartphone, didn't use WhatsApp and often had very little charge even just to receive calls. A few weeks ago, however, we found a way to talk on Messenger: a river of phone calls, confessions, existential but also professional vents. Stefania got very angry with some journalists from other newspapers because in some of their articles she found whole paragraphs of her works written for us copied. And that, as a fair person, as an informational idealist, enraged her. So, without thinking too much, she formulated her accusations on the social network, presenting them in detail. It's a shame that she was accused as a prosecutor, because we all know how difficult it is to emphasize one's merits and defend one's work. From there arose the crisis and disappointment that she admitted to me in our long night talks: she wanted to leave, I convinced her to stay. She thanked me by writing to me: "You were the only one who defended me, you were the only one who understood me".
Lately, new needs and urgent needs have further disrupted her sleepless nights, her long bike rides looking for an internet connection where she could work in peace. Stefanija was looking for new accommodation: she had little money, and her dream was a room in a student dormitory. An insecure life that clashed with her obvious merits, with exclusive requests, with requests for interviews from Montenegrin state TV or from the most famous newspapers in Italy. She also sent me a photo of her dream room. She could work alone in peace. For a long time, I felt her restlessness and haste to reinvent life, which was very stingy with her, so extraordinarily good and gifted. "I have to
to change accommodation", she wrote to me. I'm going to the student dormitory tomorrow, a new private and very nice one. I will talk to management to ask if they have a room available. It is located in Podgorica, 5 minutes from the cultural center. And then I sent an email to the language school. I'm surveying the field in case they need someone who is a native Italian speaker. Regarding
accommodation, that's what I would like: no more nights on the bike with a return at dawn. I put all the pieces together. I have to ensure logistical peace and things around me. That way I will be able to gain momentum and try to establish contact with private universities. It's my feeling, I don't know how to explain it, that I pass on to other people who are not from mine
countries, what I know. It will be a period of construction and renovation. And like I said, my strong character helps.
The last e-mail arrived at 5.50 am. Nothing strange, we corresponded mostly at night. Stefania wrote for our site Milleundonna and more than anyone else she was an allegorical figure because she had a thousand aspects and a thousand interests, a thousand urgent things and a thousand interesting things. But not a thousand lives.
Ps: Dear Stefanija, thank you for all the e-mails, for the comments, for venting, for everything. Thank you. I'll keep everything. I will slowly re-read. We'll talk about you again, I promise.
Source - VOM
