Talk to the hands

COMMUNICATION:Whatever about learning the language – it's the Italian hand gestures you really need to crack, writes JUSTIN COMISKEY

ISTRACTED FOR a moment while driving in Rome recently I felt a bump and then heard a scraping sound. Two women standing on the path surveyed the damage from the brief encounter with a railing, looked at me and bit their hands. Earlier that morning a friend, when asked how his troublesome teenage son was getting on in scuola superiore (secondary school), bit his hand too.

Putting a hand in your mouth and feigning to bite with fangs in full view is a common way Romans express something that’s painful or exasperating – a bit like saying “ouch”.

This is just one example of the fine repertoire of gestures Italians use. It’s funny watching Italians chatting on their mobile phones, arms waving for emphasis and pulling strange faces, as if the person they’re talking to can see them. When you see a number of them doing this at the same time – phoning home to say the train’s delayed, for example – it can be very hard to keep a straight face.

On my first day in Rome back in the late 1990s, my Italian girlfriend (now my wife) took me to a Serie A match in the Stadio Olimpico. The football was forgettable but the fans’ gesturing, overstimulated by the tension of a big match and the natural suspicion Italians have of a referee’s integrity, is easy to recall.

It started when the ref gave a free kick against the home team: everyone stood up and wagged a finger at the ref. Seconds later the home team were penalised again and fans leapt to their feet, motioning furiously with their little and index fingers extended in an obscene gesture which means, in polite parlance: “Hey ref, your wife’s playing away from home”. When a penalty was awarded against the home team the place erupted: everyone, from young children to pensioners, bolted upright thrusting their arms in the air in a wide sweeping motion that also included bending over backwards and sticking their bellies out. This was accompanied by colourful cursing. Someone shouted: “When was the last time we got a penalty?” “Years ago,” replied a man, emphasising the point with a gesture like a traffic cop helping you to reverse a car only far more dramatic.

Roberto Mancini, the current manager of Manchester City, was playing for the home side that day and his creative play stood out against the opposition’s rigid four-four-two formation – the defensive structure favoured by many Italian coaches, including our own Giovanni Trapattoni. “Mancini plays football like an artist,” I said to a man beside me. The man, evidently unimpressed by my observation, flicked his hand out from under his chin. “What does that mean?” I asked my girlfriend. “You’re talking rubbish,” she said.

Half way through the second half and with the home team losing the man beside me turned to his son. “Fame?” (hungry) he asked. “Si,” said the son. Twisting his hand around with two fingers pointing down to imitate a fork, the man said: “Facciamo una spaghettata?” (Let’s cook some spaghetti). “Buona” said the son, sticking a finger in his cheek and turning it around in a gesture which means delicious, and off they went.

I’d been in the country barely 24 hours, yet it was obvious that words alone are insufficient for Italians to communicate – they must be accompanied by gestures and the more dramatic and creative the better. And when even their words and gestures are not enough, Italians will often stop mid-sentence and repeat a key word or phrase in English for killer emphasis.

The most common gesture in Italy involves putting the tips of your fingers together and moving your hand back and forth close to your mouth or to the side of the face. This is often followed by: “Che cosa dici?” (What are you on about?) and an open mouth for added incredulity. Using one hand in this way usually denotes playful disbelief, but if both hands are deployed you’re making a serious statement along the lines of “I don’t believe you” or “You need your head examined”.

Another gesture, often used by parents to obstreperous children, is to place the palms together as if you’re praying and move the hands rapidly back and forth while saying “Ti prego, ti prego” (I beg you, I beg you). Add a beseeching look and you’ve got the perfect parental ploy to get the little ones to finish their greens. If an argument breaks out among Italians – and these can go on and on as to lose one is a brutta figura, or bad face (one of the worst social crimes) – it can be very hard to follow the number and subtlety of the gestures involved.

It never ceases to amaze me that my children, when arguing with their mother in Italian, use a similarly impressive range of gestures for effect but are considerably less demonstrative with me in English. A lot more than a passing gesture towards their mother’s homeland, you could say.