You’re supposed to “touch your bum” if someone envies you, and complement it with a Hail Mary… or so says my mother. My mom and her immigrant family, as religious as they are, are insanely superstitious. Since I was young, family gatherings have been accompanied by screaming children, multiple-course meals, Catholic prayers, Italian accents, and red chilli peppers: “pepper horns.” These so-called “pepper horns,” known as “cornicellos” and worn around the neck of various family members, have the sole purpose of warding off the Malocchio Curse—a Southern Italian superstition surrounding the belief that bad luck comes from envy.
My mom’s brother (a macho Italian guy who was a former bodybuilder) built him and his Hungarian wife a lavish home in Sewickley. Once the house was fully built, furnished, and occupied, family members flooded in to praise him for his beautiful home and lifestyle. One visitor in particular—his grandmother, my great Nonna Dina—“cursed” them both with the Malocchio. While this obviously isn’t true, Uncle Chris’s claim was supported by many instances of her giving him “the look.” He claimed that during the house tour, she repeatedly exclaimed, out of jealousy: “God Bless” or “Oh! Bella casa!” While she posed these phrases as compliments, her intentions most certainly were not compliments, but rather envious remarks. Regardless of her intentions, all was well until the first night in the new home after Nonna Dina had left. In his recollection, he was woken up in the middle of the night multiple times by noises and an unsettling feeling. The next morning, his wife pointed out “claw marks” which appeared down his back, apparent that the Malocch had gotten to him.
While stories of being cursed with Malocch vary, the cure for and prevention of it have stayed consistent. To ward off the curse, an Italian chilli pepper, an amulet called a “cornicello,” can be worn on a chain around the neck. The cornicello can be accompanied by a Catholic cross, but never hung on the same chain as it, as the two will cancel each other out. In my family, my Nonna and Nonno decided to gift all fourteen grandchildren a gold chain and cornicello from Italy. While they had originally intended to wait until everyone’s sixteenth birthday, to them, the Malocch was everywhere, and the necklaces were granted to all of us on our following birthdays. If you’re unlucky enough to become cursed, God forbid, the chain that holds the amulet will break. When this happens, there are two ways to go about curing the curse. A less effective way would be to pray to God to annihilate it—which completely contradicts religion and superstitious beliefs. The second option, more of a remedy, is only known by the oldest daughter in the family, supposedly to be taught on Christmas Eve. While I personally don’t know the remedy, from what I’ve heard, one must go the lengths of finding a rat and killing it using your left hand.
Though I’ve had the occasional chain break—usually followed by a frantic phone call to my Nonna, begging to replace it—my experiences haven’t been as intense as some of my family members. Miraculously, aside from the time that I was told that my skin looked very clear just to wake up the next day to a chemical burn from some random facial serum that I used, I’ve managed to avoid being cursed. Still yet, the entirety of my family lives in fear of the Malocch, convinced that a stray compliment or envious glance could unleash misfortune.
To them, putting all trust in God (as a Catholic is told to do) applies at all times except for when it comes to the Malocchio. Although I too grew up Catholic, attending Sunday school and finding myself kneeled in a pew at eleven o’clock mass, I still catch myself clutching my cornicello when given a compliment or walking through a crowd. It’s not that I think that I’m better than everyone else or that people worship the ground that I walk on and envy me; the belief of the Malocchio has been instilled in me since childhood. Even in elementary school, I can recall my mom’s response to drama with friends or peers: “They're just jealous of you, Clara.”
With this, I’ve gathered that in a way, the pepper worn around my neck dictates my attitude towards life. When asked how I am, my response can never just be “I’m good!” but rather must be followed up by a complaint. A habit I picked up from my Nonna, when someone asks how you are, you can never seem too happy or content, as it puts you at risk of being cursed with malocchio… because obviously, someone may envy that. Letting your guard down, even the slightest slip for just a moment, can leave you vulnerable—the Malocchio is everywhere, so throw salt over your shoulder, clutch the pepper around your neck, rub olive oil on your forehead, burn your pillow, “touch your bum,” or even kill a rat with your left hand.
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