Superstitions of a Sicilian Mother

My Sicilian mother has passed onto me many superstitions and myths that she learned from her native country. One superstition that I truly believe in is il malocchio, the evil eye, but during this time that I am spending in Milan with my relatives, I realize that I have forgotten some of the traditions surrounding il malocchio.

My mother taught me from a young age that people sometimes curse others, purposely asking evil spirits to harm them or sometimes putting a hex on strangers without even knowing it.

I am more susceptible in getting the curse compared to others my mother told me. When I was little I would be nervous, pensive and sometimes depressed for no reason, which lead her to believe that I had the curse.

She believed that in my case I was primarily affected by evil spirits from people, mostly strangers, unintentionally passing on jealous thoughts through a striking glance. Other times, I would notice envious relatives chewing the inside of their check intently gazing at me while I tried to eat in peace during a holiday dinner.

Whenever my mother noticed that I was not acting like myself she would perform a little ceremony to expel il malocchio. On a Saturday, she would turn off the T.V., hush my bother and sister, and command silence. The tick-tock of a quartz clock that hung on our kitchen wall was all that I could hear. I tried to stay as still as possible while she balanced bowls and glasses holding water and olive oil over the crown of my head. She would say a secret prayer simultaneously dropping oil into water, trying to determine if I was cursed and if so, how bad was it.

When I was older I would ask her questions about the ceremony. She could only tell me the sacred rites during midnight mass on Christmas Eve. One Christmas Eve, just she and I attended midnight mass, and I was initiated into a group that nowadays barely exists.

In recent years people that I have never seen before in my life, stop by my parents house asking my mother to remove il malocchio. Some of them are suffering from poor health; some of them are experiencing hardships in their life. One thing the ceremony cannot do is make good fortune, my mother taught me.

Being in Milan with my cousin Nuccia, we somehow got on the subject of il malocchio. I confessed to her that I no longer remember the prayer, and am sad because I do not know when my mother and I will be together again on Christmas Eve.

The woman who taught my mother passed away many years ago. So when I ask my mother deeper questions about the act, she regrets she cannot answer them, because she just does not know, and those who did are no longer living.

Nuccia, who grew up in the next town over from my mother, knew enough to answer my questions.

“Only when a woman tells a woman it must be during midnight mass. A man can tell a woman or a woman can tell a man anytime;” she said.

The day the tradition was passed onto me I wrote down the words to the prayer and hid them in a secret place. I asked Nuccia if I could only read them on Christmas Eve.

“You can read them to yourself anytime you want,” she said

Some people may read this with doubt that evil spirits lurk or that people can throw a curse on others. And that is fine; everyone is entitled to their own opinion. When I was little I sometimes questioned the belief, but my father told me about the ceremony to remove il malocchio in his village. It changed my opinion.

“My aunt used a belt and wisps of my hair. If I had the malocchio the belt would grow. If it is not true, how did she make the belt grow,” he said