BUONA BEFANA Tonight’s the night La Befana rides through the night sky, sweeping away last year’s troubles with her broom,
bringing in a Bright Happy New Year To All…
Full of New Possibilities!
Here’s an excerpt from my book of essays, Letters from Italy, about my experience of celebrating La Befana in Rome, years ago…
Postcard from Rome: The Legend of La Befana*

“There is no Santa Claus in Italy,” my Nana told me when I was a kid.
I had nightmares of how awful Christmas must be over there.
Nana said she had to wait until January 6, The Feast of the Epiphany, to get gifts.
The presents came from an old crone with a hairy mole on her chin who rode around
on a broom. She was called La Befana.

Many years later, I’m in Rome’s Piazza Navona, at the Epiphany Fair. It’s two weeks
after Christmas, but the holiday celebration is still in full swing. Bernini’s Fountain of
the Four Rivers is surrounded by stands covered in twinkling white lights, selling
sweets, ornaments, and roasted pork sandwiches.

Nowadays, there is Santa Claus in Italy. They call him Babbo Natale. Figures of
him (skinnier than our version) hang off the booths. But he’s far outnumbered by
La Befanas—that witch of my childhood nightmares. There’s no escaping her in
the piazza—she appears in the form of thimble-sized clay totems, stuffed dolls
with scary grins, and there’s even a signora in costume, cackling and waving her
broom at Italian bambini who look up at her in awe.
Tonight, January 5, I tell my husband, is La Befana’s special night.

“The HORROR,” he whispers.

Actually, once you get to know the Legend of La Befana, you might warm
up to her.

La Befana, like my Nana, was famous for spending her days in the kitchen,
cooking and sweeping. On the first Christmas, the Magi stopped by her house,
asking directions to Bethlehem. She made them dinner and they told her,
“We’re going to see the Christ child, want to come along?”
“Impossible,” she replied.
“There are all these dishes to wash and the kitchen to sweep!”
So the kings went on their way. Then, as the old woman was sweeping, it hit her:
Did those guys say they were going to see Jesus?
She ran out of her cottage with her broom to follow them, but… no kings in sight.
She kept running, until her broom lifted her into the air. Ever since, La Befana
has flown through the night sky on the Eve of the Epiphany, delivering goodies
to children, hoping one of them is the Christ child.

Anticipation is in the Piazza Navona air, as kids hurry home to hang stockings and
set out a glass of wine for La Befana. She knows no child has been perfect all year, so tomorrow morning they’ll find their stockings filled with a mix of treats: coal
(actually delicious black rock candy), maybe onions, olive oil… and finally they’ll
dig to the bottom and find chocolates and caramels.

Who could not adore this ordinary woman, caught in the midst of her ordinary world,
suddenly struck by The Epiphany, dropping everything to run and be a part of it?

I flash on my friends in Los Angeles, who have already hauled their trees out to the
curb and are back at work, feeling guilty about weight they’ve gained from holiday
partying.

We don’t feel guilty at all. We’re in Rome and we do as the Romans do. We slip into
Tre Scalini, and order tartufo–-crunchy chocolate ice cream encrusted in hard chocolate.

The nightmares Nana gave me so long ago are gone. We buy our Los Angeles friends Befanas, wanting to share with them the spirit of this Christmastime bonus;
wanting them to believe as Italians believe, as we believe: that La Befana will fly
through the sky tonight, sweeping away last year’s troubles with her broom,
bringing us the hope of a sweeter, brighter new year. Anything is possible….

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