Deep in the Peligna valley, where north Italy meets south, villagers celebrate one of Europe’s oldest spring festivals — a bizarre, 3 000-year-old tradition that mixes pagan rights, ancient rituals, the Catholic Church and snakes.
Every first Thursday in May, residents of the medieval village of Cocullo take to the streets armed with locally caught snakes. These are draped lovingly around a statue of St Dominic housed in the medieval church of Santa Maria, which is then taken out into the light of day and paraded through the village, accompanied by a procession of thousands of pilgrims.
The festival of the snake charmers dates back more than three millennia to the Marsi tribes, who worshipped the goddess Angizia with snakes.
They believed the goddess protected them from wolves, bears, rabid animals and malaria. When the ancient Greeks and Romans invaded, they adapted the worship to their god, Apollo. Finally the Christians conquered, “sanctified” the ritual and adopted St Dominic.
Cocullo sits 900m high and straddles the Peligna valley. During the long Apennine winter months the village, along with others in the vicinity, becomes snowed-in and supplies are air-lifted into the region.
This is the kind of isolation that has helped the locals maintain their unique customs.
Shepherds still walk their sheep from the grassy plains of Puglia in the south to the limestone mountains of Abruzzo, a distance of 350km. The routes are dotted with ancient tholos shrines — Neolithic stone refuges where shepherds still take shelter.
The D’Omazio family owns a small bakery, where a steady stream of customers come in to enjoy moist ameretti and crunchy confetti. Glalia D’Omazio is busy weighing pizza, her T-shirt proclaiming, “Snake charmers of Cocullo rock!” is dotted with flour.
“We are all so excited,” she tells me. “Spring is finally here and we have only one thing on our minds … snakes.” Her sister Antoinetta agrees enthusiastically.
The sisters catch the snakes traditionally, using their bare hands — no gloves or sticks.
“All our spare time is spent looking for snakes,” says Antonietta. “I can’t explain or rationalise why. We grew up to be snake charmers. It is that simple.”
Snakes live with the families for up to six weeks until they are released back into the place they were found.
Tales of snake bites are common in this region. Wearing heavy, snake-proof boots in the mountains and avoiding vipers in the overhanging olive trees ensures that confrontations are few.
Giuseppina D’Omazio shows me her scars. “It was about 10 years ago” she explains, rubbing them. “The festival was coming up and I hadn’t caught a snake. I became desperate. While driving home I saw something slide into the bushes. I jumped out, leapt into the bush and grabbed its tail. Unfortunately when it swung round, I realised it was a viper. I let go to protect my face but it sprang back, biting me twice.”
She spent the next four days in hospital and although still in pain discharged herself early, caught another snake and made it to the procession in time. The D’Omazio family has never missed a festival. This year it would seem that everyone else in the area is determined not to, either.
On the big day, the single-track road to Cocullo is blocked with parked cars and camper vans. Humanity has descended en masse to this small outpost.
Stallholders jostle for space between terracotta pots, rubber snakes and plastic home clutter. The smell of spit-roasted pork, pickled fish, cheese and salami fill the narrow streets. Stalls offer taster plates — including marinated olives, fresh pasta and bulls’ testicles filled with mozzarella.
Busy locals carrying metal tins, canvas sacks and wooden boxes filled with snakes meet in the main piazza. Prizes are awarded to those who bring the rarest, longest, largest and the most snakes.
In Italy it is illegal to kill, capture or house wild animals, with fines of up to â,¬1 000, but the law turns a blind eye to Cocullo. Animal rights organisations have long campaigned to see an end to what some consider to be the village’s “barbaric practices”.
Antonietta strongly disagrees: “Keeping exotic animals locked in houses all their lives is cruel. People call them ‘pets’, and that somehow legitimises it. Snakes have always lived around us, they share our need for food, water and shelter. In these mountains, our paths cross. We have learnt to accept our environment and by handling snakes, we have removed fear and made them a part of our lives.”
All snakes brought to the festival are registered, weighed and measured in the village hall. The local government pays all those who bring one. Charmers paint coloured dots on theirs, ensuring they can be recognised after the festival. A red dot indicates that the snake is “really good-looking”, allowing it the honour of adorning the statue.
There are five species of snakes in the area. All are harmless, apart from the vipers. Antonietta leans against a door and applies antiseptic to her arms. “Occupational hazard,” she murmurs. “If you handle snakes, sooner or later you get bitten.”
There’s not much else going for Cocullo. Job prospects are poor and many youngsters are forced to migrate to Italy’s major cities or abroad. Mass economic migration during the early 1900s and in the 1960s left Abruzzo with a legacy of abandoned towns and villages. It is now one of the least populated regions in Italy.
Outside Santa Maria, snakes aren’t the only curiosity. Festival pilgrims queue to pull a bell with their teeth.
“It guards against toothache for one whole year,” proclaims one devotee.
Others shuffle forward to the blessed Earth — a year’s worth of dust and waste collected from inside the church, which is traditionally dissolved in water and gulped down as a remedy.
Suddenly, the the wooden statue of St Dominic bursts out of the church and the crowd of 10 000 falls silent. This is the most important part of the day. To ensure good fortune, the snakes must remain on the statue. It is considered a bad omen if the snakes fall off. In 1984 they fell off — the year radioactive fog from Chernobyl arrived in Italy.
This year the snakes remain on the statue, the crowd applauds, church bells ring out incessantly and the festival begins. The procession pushes its way through the tiny, crowded streets, pinning people against walls and doorways. The local priest walks ahead of the statue, carrying the holy tooth of St Dominic suspended in a chalice. Eager pilgrims pin money to a white ribbon at the foot of the statue to ensure their return to the festival next year.
The parade winds through the village and finishes back at the church door. By this time most people are handling snakes.
On the church steps, the snake charmers reclaim their serpents from between the folds of the wooden statue.
One hundred snake charmers carrying 300 snakes attended the festivities and went home happy, none the worse for wear. Next year they’ll all be back. Until then, the snakes have their freedom — and St Dominic’s blessings.
The lowdown:
Getting to Rome is the easy part, with most airlines flying to Europe from South Africa offering connections via major European hubs, including South African Airways, Lufthansa, British Airways, Air France and Virgin Atlantic. Rome’s main international airport is Leonardo da Vinci (Fiumicino). Pescara has a small national and European destination airport. From Rome, Pescara is about 120km by car on the A25 east.
There is a toll fee of â,¬7,90. Trains from Rome to Cocullo take about three hours and run, on average, three times a day for about â,¬12. Cocullo has no lodgings or accommodation. The closest accommodation is Anversa degli ‘Abruzzi, a 20-minute walk from Cocullo, at the Agriturismo Cooperativa ACSA (www.asca.dimmidove.com). A double en suite room in a medieval house will set you back â,¬30 a night. The town of Sulmona is 20km away and has many hotels and pensions.
A regular coach service runs between Sulmona and Rome. Also check out www.deliciousitaly.com/Abruzzo.htm for area information and www.heartofitaly.net for more options.
Excellent for reference purposes are the official Italian tourism website at www.enit.it and www.regione.abruzzo.it, official Abruzzo region site. — Sharon van Wyk