This is a little story - the REAL story - of La Befana. I like to think of Befana as the feminist answer to Saint Nicholas. Anyhow, here's the story, as told to me by my little friend Miagolio.
The (Real) Story of Befana and the Moon
written by Me!
Joints creaking in protest, she reluctantly rises from the stool before the fire. It is time once again. She brushes the soot from her apron and puts away her knitting. Wrapping her shawl tightly around herself and tucking in the edges, she takes one last cursory glance around the cottage before shouldering a small pack and taking up a worn broom.
"Leave a light on for me, Miagolio," she says to a ball of fur curled in its basket. "I'll be home again before the dawn." The kitten opens one eye briefly but Befana is already outside, preparing to take to the air.
"Anda one anda two anda ..." she puffs, straddling her ancient broom. "I am getting too old for this!" With one last great heave, she pushes off the ground and is airborne. Once up in the air, Befana feels like a girl again. The first rush of flight always makes her carefree and giddy. "Whee!" she yells out gleefully.
Before long, though, she's all business for she has lots of work to do before the night is over. It is Befana's job to deliver gifts to the children and it's a job she takes very seriously.
Unlike certain others, Befana doesn't need a list to know who's been naughty and who's been nice. She's kind of like your grandmother; she just knows. She also knows that there is a little bit of naughty in the nicest of children and even the naughtiest have at least a trace of nice in them. Besides, she was a girl once. A long, long, long time ago.
As she makes her way to the first village, she thinks back to the first time she flew on her broom and the events leading up to that fateful flight ...
Befana was young woman then and, like most young people, she thought she knew all there was to know. After all, she was an accomplished seamstress, baked the tastiest biscotti, and played the sweetest sedere of all the girls in her village. She didn't have time for trivial matters such as sweeping the hearth and changing the linens, did she? No! She was much too busy stitching a new gown or tempting a local boy with her baking.
Befana shirked her household duties until one day Papa, who was sick to death of eating cold beans and hard cheese for dinner, bellowed, "Befana! There'sa gonna be some changes around here! You're nota gonna spend all day sewing and giggling with your friends. You're going to clean this house!" With that, he slammed the door and stomped down to the sbarra to play checkers with his friends.
Befana wasn't a bad child and she wanted to please her papa, so she did as she was told. She spent all day airing out rooms, dusting shelves, bringing fresh water from the well, and baking bread. As evening approached, Befana took up that brand new broom and began sweeping. She worked so diligently that she opened the door and swept the dirt outside - right onto the feet of a visitor!
The man looked at the dust that now covered his shoes and coughed. The two men standing behind him snickered into their beards. Befana was speechless with horror. "Excuse me," said the first man as he shook off his shoes. "But we've traveled quite far today and wonder if we might have a dipper of water?"
Befana, having recovered her senses, invited them in and gave them water and plates of cold beans and hard cheese (hey, someone had to eat 'em!). Her freshly baked bread sat in the window cooling and, after watching the men eye the bread for half an hour, Befana fetched a loaf and set it on the table, along with some fresh butter. After polishing off the entire loaf, they eyeballed the remaining loaf. Sighing, Befana set it in the middle of the table and watched, with not a little disgust, as the men dug in. While they ate, they told Befana fanciful tales of their travels. They told her of great grey beasts with long noses and giant ears and of horses with impossibly long necks.
She, of course, knew they were teasing her. Who ever heard of such nonsense? But, she had to admit, the men themselves were quite unusual looking. They all wore their beards long and untrimmed. Not so unusual, she supposed, but their clothing was as outlandish as their stories. All three of them wore long, loose coats down to their feet, but Befana still spotted their shoes - brightly colored things, like the men's coats, and with funny curled up toes. She wondered if they were comfortable.
Similarly, they wore brightly colored hats which looked made of silk - one was flat at the crown, with some fussy cording at the brim securing it to the wearer's head. Another was pointed on top with more fussiness holding it down. The last hat seemed to be all the left over sewing bits - it appeared to be long strips of fabric, all wound around the man's head. Befana shook her head in wonder. The other girls will never believe this, she thought to herself.
At last, the men were full and rested, and they prepared to continue their journey. Out of courtesy, Befana asked where they were going and one of them replied, somewhat pompously, "We three astrologers are from the Orient. We heard tell of a baby who will change the world and we want to find him. We figure, if he's going to be that important one day, it might be a good idea to pay our respects now. You know, grease his palm now; it might pay off later." He nodded sagely as he elbowed the man to his right who whipped open his robes, revealing ampules of frankincense and myrrh and a small bag of gold coins. "Would you like to join us?"
Befana, who had heard enough of their crazy stories, snorted with distain, "Um, I don't think so. I don't even know you. Besides, Papa will be home for dinner soon and it seems I have more baking to do now."
"Suit yourself," said the wise astrologers in unison.
Befana watched the three crazy old loons follow the road until she couldn't see them anymore. Her attention switched to the Moon which, that night, was a cold sliver riding high in the sky. As she gazed up, Befana heard a soft voice say, "They were right, you know." Befana jumped and looked around. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" said the Moon. "Those wise men were right. There is a special baby being born on this night. You really blew it, Befana. You should have gone with."
Befana, having a close relationship with the Moon, believed what she was hearing. "But they're already gone!" she wailed. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I thought you'd ask," replied the Moon, because that seemed the most sensible answer. "You should probably get moving, if you want to catch them."
"But Papa ... the baking ..." stammered Befana.
"What is a loaf of bread compared to such a momentous event? Look, I'll help you out - but just this once," said the Moon. "Take your broom in your hand. Don't forget your pack. Ok, now take your broom, step over it like it's a fence ... that's right ... Now, see that really bright star? The one that's highest in the sky? That's the one you aim for. Just push off really hard and aim for that star. Once you're in the air, find the village the star is shining on and there you'll find the baby."
It sounded reasonable to Befana so she slung her pack over her shoulder, straddled the somewhat less than new broom, aimed for the bright star, and pushed off. She shrieked as she zoomed through the air, narrowly missing a stand of olive trees, and wobbled upward. When the broom leveled out, Befana found that she could see her entire village laid out below her. From the air, it looked charming! She scanned the land below for the village the star was shining on. Spying it in the distance, Befana zoomed off.
Upon landing, Befana realized she had no way of knowing which child was the right child. She looked up at the Moon, who shrugged. "Guess I'll visit them all," Befana muttered to herself. She walked straight up to the first house, opened the front door, and walked in. Lying in a cradle by the hearth was a small sleeping child. Befana, knowing nothing about babies, didn't realize the kid was at least two years old, not a newborn. Not wanting to waken the sleeping babe, Befana rummaged in her pack until she found a cookie she'd been saving. "I'll just leave this, so he knows I stopped by," she whispered to herself.
And so she went through the town, leaving a cookie here, a pretty ribbon there, until she came to the last house. As she sneaked through the room, she stumbled against the cradle, waking the baby inside. The baby began to wail and Befana panicked. She picked the baby up and bounced him, which just made him cry louder. She tried tickling him, which made his face turn beet red. In disgust, she put him back in his bed and turned to leave. Then she remembered why she was there. She rummaged in her pack, which was practically empty by now, and pulled out a lump of coal. Tossing it into the cradle, she said, "That's for you!"
Feeling quite proud of herself, Befana hopped on her broom and headed for home. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that the bright star was shining down on another village! "Drat!" she exclaimed. "I stopped at the wrong place!" So she turned her broom around and visited all the babies in the other village. This happened all through the night: Befana, thinking she was done, hopped on her broom for home, only to find another village lit up. Finally Befana had visited all the villages and every child had recieved something from Befana's pack which, somehow, never quite ran empty.
Tired but satisfied, Befana returned home, only to find that she'd been gone a whopping 20 minutes! "How could that be?" she wondered to herself. "I've been working all night."
From outside, she heard the Moon laughing. "Oh, Befana!" she said. "You're such a cut-up! There's no way you could have visited all those children in one night - or flown a broom, for that matter - by yourself. I helped you!"
"Did I find the right child?" Befana asked.
"How should I know? They're all the same to me," chortled the Moon, for she's a very good-natured girl. "Maybe you should visit them all again next year, just to make sure."
And that's just what Befana did. She's improved her strategy since that first night. She no longer uses the door - they're all locked now anyhow. Instead, she shinnies down the chimney, somehow never burning herself in the fire. And she makes sure her pack is always full of things kids like - candy, cookies, toys, fruit - no rummaging like that first time. And, of course, lumps of coal. Because Befana knows that there is a little bit of naughty in the nicest of children and even the naughtiest have at least a trace of nice in them.
