What would you have done if, living in Scanno centuries ago, you had fallen ill or been injured? Or if (a more joyful and natural event) the time came for childbirth?
You would have turned to a healer, who else? And before you ask obvious or clichéd questions, the answer is no, it wasn’t the doctor you thought of first. What was needed was a known, reassuring, mysterious yet maternal figure, by day a neighbor and by night… a witch! In a good sense, of course.
Let’s set aside for a moment the usual overused stereotypes. Being a healer was a gift; age mattered little. Intuition, wisdom, and empathy were the foundations. And then a deep knowledge of naturally available resources: herbs, berries, barks, fruits, and the skill to make infusions, ointments, or medicinal powders.
Healers treated almost everything—from colds to colic, fractures to wounds—and certainly familiarity and trust were an important part of every cure. They were our “good witches,” not to be confused with “sorceresses.”
Yes, because a healer was well rewarded; she would never suffer cold or hunger, the village protected her. So very often, those who didn’t have the “gift” but wanted comfort would improvise.
But, lacking the skill to heal, some gossips would predict unlikely futures, cast or lift supposed evil spells, and dispense dubious potions with doubtful powers. The eternal struggle between good and evil, in short. Clearly, we side with the healers… not out of bias or cliché. It’s that with their experience, they knew how to transform horror into beauty, despair into hope. Their reassuring presence was itself a cure; no coincidence they were friends, mothers… women.
