When I lived in what is now the Republic of North Macedonia, I had a friend, B, whose sister was happily married and had just given birth to their first child. This sister's sister-in-law, somewhat older, was also married with two children. With the birth of the child, the sister-in-law began to behave in 'interesting' ways that appeared designed to do harm to the newborn (her nephew). She was seen speaking under her breath when the baby was being baptized, items of the baby's clothing would disappear after she had visited their home, the babies' parents became convinced that his aunt was casting the 'evil eye'.
Not knowing quite what to make of these tales, that B would regale me with, I christened the sister-in-law, 'the wicked witch', and would ask periodically how the saga was unfolding.
A couple of months later, I was invited by B to a family St. Nicholas Day celebration. I arrived with the party in full swing, myriad people assembled around tables of food, all in animated conversation. I knew the 'wicked witch' would be there but there were several potential candidates in the room. Then I noticed her, she was coming towards me to greet me but her look was cast across the room at B's sister, holding her baby, and my only way to describe the look was corruscating envy. I do not think I have seen a more disturbing, unsettling look between one person and another; and, woven through it a heavy sense of sadness feeding off another person's happiness. It lasted a moment but how long does a moment last? All was banished in the smiles of greeting but later, talking with B, I discovered my identification had been correct.
If we had been in Corsica, you would have (may still) take this problem to a signadori. This would usually be a woman, less often a man, who had the gift of healing. Sometimes this was the knowledge of herbal remedies but often it concerned the evil eye. You would be diagnosed by olive oil (or similar) dropped in water, the less the oil coalesced, the deeper the problem. The cure would be provided by first holding the water/oil combination above your head or in your hands (in a suitable container) and blessings offered in time-honored prayers/incantations, kept secret by the signadori, and learned by them by heart on Christmas Eve when the Lord's coming keeps all evil at bay. The oil/water would then be disposed of (as sometimes would be the container depending on the depth of contamination).
This healing custom is but one of the traditions of Corsica that Dorothy Carrington explores in her remarkable book, 'The Dream Hunters of Corsica'. Carrington was an Englishwoman who arrived in Corsica in the immediate post-war period and effectively never left; and, became an authority on Corsica its archaeology, history, and traditional patterns of life. She arrived at the point where modernization was about to efface or occlude many of these patterns - and, together with others, was determined that they should be studied, recorded, and understood. Her first book, 'Granite Isle' is a classic of travel literature, this second book is a testimony to her exploration of Corsica's 'occult' side. It is made more strikingly convincing because Carrington's prose is so sober, straightforward, and realistic (as was the woman herself when I met her). She never idealizes but neither does she condescend. She leaves people's actual experience open to review; and, any explanation is always exploratory, an experiment in knowing, cleaving to people's actual experience, including her own.
The 'Dream Hunters' of the title are the 'mazzeri'. These are both men and women who are chosen (or mentally infected) usually by a relation to go, in their dreams, on a hunt. Equipped with various weapons - usual and unusual - they track down a wild boar, say, and killing it suddenly see in its face or hear in its death squeal the signature of a familiar person. That person will die within the year. It is not that the hunt is the cause of death simply its precognition but needless to say such a 'gift' is ambiguous. Mazzeri had a complex place in Corsican life - respected yet feared, tolerated but not embraced. Yet within the mazzeri themselves, there was an equalitarian acceptance and social freedom that women especially found attractive in a very patriarchal and hidebound social structure. Some mazzeri embraced their lot, some tolerated it, a few, pursued by the guilt of being fate's messenger, sought escape in an exorcism that often included being rebaptized. Carrington, herself, met two: a woman and a man, and both struck her as impressive people in their own right handling their fate as best they could.
Both groups of people (and sometimes they overlapped) are, by Carrington, woven into a lively, beautifully and judiciously written, history of Corsica from its prehistoric beginnings into the present including reflections on what the Church made of these traditions and how the traditions themselves co-evolved with Corsica's Christian heritage.
Meanwhile, what was the Macedonian solution to the evil eye of envy? It was indeed recourse to the Macedonian equivalent of a signadori - though if I remember correctly, the diagnosis was with hot metal, rather than oil, and its disposal more ritualistic than simply being thrown away as in Corsica. It appeared to work - the baby flourished - though I do not think the aunt's unhappiness diminished. Envy is an overlooked entrapment - but every traditional culture has seen it as deep grained and sought the remedy of protection against its tentacles. What are ours?
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