Italian Peasant Woman (Eva Lindquist)

       These are dark days. Depression, the Great War's curse on its survivors, is everywhere. Families for miles around have gone hungry and poor, their supplies eaten up by the war and its aftermath. Not one member of my family has been fully fed since Il Duce's soldiers 'requisitioned' half of our crops, the half that was supposed to see us through the winter. 
       Extremism? Yes, that attitude has been a trouble, though it hasn't affected us directly yet, aside from the increased numbers of troops passing through. I did notice the refugees fleeing Russia and the North; how could I miss the hungry faces begging for aid? At least those we fed helped us on the farm in return before they left–no country's money has been trustworthy, lately. 
       I believe all of this–the growth of extremism–is caused by desperation. Government leaders have to reassure the public that all will be well, that the war did not ruin them, so they pin the country's troubles on a scapegoat. In order to get rid of the problem, the government encourages the scapegoat's eradication. It doesn't even matter who is blamed, as long it is not the government. I hate this 'solution', but I can only be grateful that my family will never be targeted. After all, we peasants supply the country with its food. Even the most inept leader would know that attacking his own farmers only harms his cause. 
       I don't know what I can do about it. I can't risk my family's lives by standing up to make a difference; Il Duce certainly discourages that sort of behavior. Right now, human rights are a lost cause here. All we who are helpless can hope to do is hunker down until this all blows over. Dark days indeed.