Assunta
Assunta, who was there that day in Pratobello
Memory, sometimes, is all in a single word. In Orgosolo, that word is Pratobello. And just speaking it brings everything back: the voices, the dust, the waiting, the courage. She was 24 years old in 1969 when, together with the entire town, she chose to occupy the municipal land to oppose the arrival of the army.
The State had announced plans to install a military firing range on public grazing land—an area that had always been essential to the life of shepherds. What seemed like a top-down decision sparked one of the most united and peaceful protests in Sardinia’s recent history. “We spread the word informally. But early in the morning, the town was already empty—everyone was there, young and old, even infants in arms.”
“They said it was temporary, but we knew that once they came in, they would never leave,” Assunta continues. The shepherds stayed overnight in the open, out on the land, while the women returned to town in the evening and came back the next day. Everyone had a role, even if “the women were in the front line. As always. More fiery, but also more respected—that’s why the men tried to stay even calmer.”
It was a peaceful but determined protest. The military tried to contain it: “They had formed a sort of circle, a pen. When they found someone, they would bring them inside, as if they had already captured us. But the territory was too vast—people had spread out everywhere. They couldn’t do anything.” In the end, the army was forced to withdraw. “It was a real victory. We were proud, and we still are.”
Assunta speaks of that time with the calm of someone who has seen many seasons pass, but her voice brightens when she recalls the elderly women shouting at the helicopters, the collective pride, the awareness of having won together. “Back then, we defended the land because we lived off that land. If they had taken it from us, we would have ended up in misery.”
Even today, she takes part in demonstrations across the island. “Now, though, there are fewer of us. The young people are there, but they seem a bit more skeptical. Maybe they haven’t yet understood how serious the situation is.” And yet, when she sees young people speaking passionately in a square, hope returns. “I’m proud of them. They just need to remember their roots. Never forget the roots.”
After a lifetime of work and raising seven children, Assunta is now part of a local Orgolese association for biodiversity and cultivates a garden with ancient seeds. She keeps alive a tangible memory—one made of soil, seasons, and herbs that carry the scent of dignity and freedom. “We’ve even organized grafting courses and plant identification workshops. Wild fennel with potatoes is delicious,” she says with a smile but a steady voice. Because for her, Orgosolo is still a place worth defending—not out of nostalgia, but out of love.
“This land is envied by everyone. And if we don’t protect it, who will?”