What’s a crivello?
The crivello, a type of round sieve made with wide mesh, was traditionally used by women (crivellatrici) to clean harvested olives by separating them from leaves and debris. The olives are tossed into the air and caught by the crivellatrice over and over again, until all the leaves, rocks, and twigs have fallen through the mesh and onto the ground. Though more modern crivelli are made using wood (for the frame) and steel (for the mesh), they were originally made from materials like hay and reeds.
Cleaning olives is a task that envelopes your whole being. It starts from the arms and then takes over the body. It creates a particular rhythm. It's said that the balle du crevielle (the dance of the crivello in Molisan dialect) was inspired by the sounds and movements of the crivellatrici. As younger girls looked on, they started to dance: "Fu proprio il suono morbido e sordo delle olive nel volteggiare dei crivelli che ispirò la danza, che divenne espressione di gioia e di ringraziamento per l’abbondanza del raccolto" (It was precisely the soft and muffled sound of the olives in the whirling of the sieves that inspired the dance, which became an expression of joy and gratitude for the abundance of the harvest). The greater the skill and dexterity of the crivellatrici, the more frenetic the dance.
As a kid in a folk dance group here in Montreal, the dance I looked forward to learning the most was u balle du crevielle. It's one of my mom's favourites. I remember the women dancing around, rolling their crivelli with such energy and power. I wanted to be a part of that force; I wanted to take part in that joy. It felt like a rite of passage. From childhood, I had now joined this group of women, who ranged in age from pre-teenagehood to their thirties. To this day, when u balle du crevielle is brought up, my mom runs to an open space, and starts singing and dancing, an expression of joy and gratitude for the memories of our time in that folk group, and to the memories of our ancestors who moved their arms and bodies to the rhythm of the tumbling olives.
The newsletter’s name comes from this object and these stories.