Novanta giorni. Li ho contati tutti, uno per uno.
Il 4 ottobre 2026 torno a Marrakech.
E mentre conto gli ultimi giorni, da Marrakech mi arrivano immagini come questa.
Lei è Cleottina, tra le braccia del suo papà Simo.
L’abbiamo chiamata così perché in quel piccolo muso io continuo a vedere qualcosa che mi emoziona ogni volta: i colori della Cleo e lo sguardo dolcissimo di Celeste.
Cleo e Celeste non ci sono più. Eppure, in qualche modo tutto loro, continuano ad accompagnare questo progetto. Mi piace pensare che siano le sue piccole angeli custodi.
E forse Cleottina, che guarda Simo con quella fiducia assoluta, racconta meglio di tante parole quello che ho cercato di costruire in questi tre mesi lontana da Marrakech.
Fare in modo che qualcuno ci sia. Anche quando io non ci sono.
Perché fisicamente sono stata lontana dalla Medina per novanta giorni. Ma non c’è stato un solo giorno in cui la mia testa non sia tornata là.
Non un giorno senza chiedermi: come posso fare meglio? Come posso rendere Una zampa alla volta più solido? Come posso proteggerlo e farlo crescere, perché possa continuare a prendersi cura di loro anche quando io sono a Milano?
Ora quei novanta giorni stanno per finire.
Il 4 ottobre torno dai miei gatti.
E questa volta resto fino al 15.
Tra pochi giorni quella distanza diventerà di nuovo una strada percorsa a piedi, una gabbia da preparare, un gatto da cercare, una porta a cui bussare, una persona da incontrare.
Io ci metterò tutto quello che posso.
Se vorrai esserci anche tu, con una donazione, una condivisione o semplicemente raccontando Una zampa alla volta a qualcuno, porterò a Marrakech anche un pezzetto del tuo aiuto.
E poi c’è Cleottina.
Lei naturalmente non sa nulla di progetti, raccolte fondi, strategie e dei miei novanta giorni contati uno per uno.
Guarda Simo.
E si fida.
In fondo, tutto questo lavoro serve esattamente a questo.
Fare in modo che possano continuare a fidarsi di qualcuno.
Una zampa alla volta. 🐾
Silvia
la Gattara di Marrakech
90 days…
Ninety days away from Marrakech, while the project kept growing.
Ninety days. I counted every single one of them.
On October 4th, I’m going back to Marrakech.
And as I count down these final days, pictures like this one reach me from there.
This is little Cleottina, in the arms of her dad, Simo.
We gave her that name because every time I look at that tiny face, I see something that touches me deeply: Cleo’s colours and Celeste’s incredibly gentle eyes.
Cleo and Celeste are no longer with us. And yet, in their own special way, I feel they are still walking alongside this project. I like to think of them as its little guardian angels.
And perhaps Cleottina, looking up at Simo with such complete trust, tells the story of what I have been trying to build during these three months away from Marrakech better than I ever could: making sure someone is there. Even when I am not.
I may have been physically away from the Medina for ninety days, but there hasn’t been a single day when my thoughts haven’t travelled back there.
Not one day without asking myself: How can I do better? How can I make Una zampa alla volta stronger? How can I protect it and help it grow, so that it can continue caring for them even while I’m in Milan?
Now those ninety days are almost over.
On October 4th, I’m going back to my cats.
And this time, I’ll stay until the 15th.
I’ve spent these months weaving threads. Now I’m going back to tie them together.
A lot has happened while I’ve been away.
The most important change has a name: Simo.
Simo now works permanently for Una zampa alla volta. He is in the Medina almost every day. He checks on the cats, brings food and medication, organises sterilizations and responds to reports of animals in need.
He has become the presence I had wanted for so long: someone who can notice when something is wrong before it becomes an emergency.
And now I want to take the next step.
During these eleven days, I’ll work alongside him to make everything more organised, effective and consistent. I’ll return to the colonies, observe and keep track of the cats, and plan the next captures and sterilizations.
But I will also finally meet some of the people with whom I have built new collaborations from afar over the past few months: a new shelter, new people in the Medina who are supporting the project, and German volunteers who have offered their skills free of charge to help with communication and, above all, international adoptions for dogs and cats.
Over these months, I’ve been weaving threads.
Now I’m going back to Marrakech to tie them together.
A suitcase full of supplies. But that isn’t enough.
Of course, I’ll leave with my usual rather ridiculous suitcase.
Food, medicines, parasite treatments, and everything else I can possibly squeeze between a couple of pairs of trousers and some well-worn clothes for fieldwork.
But I have learned that filling a suitcase isn’t enough.
Every time Simo gets on his motorbike to check on a cat someone has reported, every sterilization, every medicine, every veterinary visit, every hospital stay and every day spent working in the field has a cost.
So, as I prepare for this mission, there is something else I would like to fill:
possibilities.
The possibility of saying yes to one more sterilization.
One more treatment.
One more report worth investigating.
One more cat who simply needs someone to notice them.
If Una zampa alla volta has found a little place in your heart, you can come with me this time too: through a donation, by sharing the project, or simply by telling someone about what I’m doing.
In just a few days, that distance will once again become streets walked on foot, a trap to prepare, a cat to look for, a door to knock on, a person to meet.
I’ll bring everything I can.
And if you choose to be there too, I’ll carry a little piece of your help with me to Marrakech.
And then there’s Cleottina.
Of course, she knows nothing about projects, fundraising, strategies, or the ninety days I’ve counted one by one.
She looks at Simo.
And she trusts him.
And perhaps, in the end, that is exactly what all this work is about.
Making sure they can keep trusting that someone will be there.
One paw at a time. 🐾
Silvia
the “Gattara” of Marrakech
