I had just finished changing her diaper and cleaning up the sweet baby girl who had been born the evening before. Knowing that her parents thought they were having a boy and thus were not prepared with anything in which to dress their new daughter, I wanted to be helpful. Rummaging through a donated bag of baby girl goodies with its treasures of clothes, blankets, and other supplies, I pulled out a pink onesie dotted with cheerful pastel butterflies and held it out. “Would you like her to wear this?”
“Oh, but I can’t take her home in that,” her mother shyly informed me. “It’s the wrong color.” Ah yes, how could I have forgotten the unwritten rule? From many-roomed, sophisticated city hospitals to one-room, dirt floored, stick-and-mud shacks, cautious parents of newborns would not think of venturing forth with their new little one in any color other than red.
If you are scratching your head and wondering why that is so important, I can assure you that you are not alone in such puzzlement. In fact, it took me over a dozen visits to help in the clinic in Honduras before I learned the full significance of what I observed. Giving someone the “evil eye” (mal de ojo) has been practiced around the world for close to 5,000 years, although its beliefs vary across cultures and continents and from one religion to another. In Central America, infants are thought to be at special risk for sickening or death from such a malevolent look. Stores do a brisk business in selling going-home outfits of the one color that is potent enough to ward off such evil.
Therefore, it really didn’t matter that this little girl’s mommy and daddy had been expecting a son since the ultrasound that was done by the town doctor some weeks earlier. The red shirt, cap, and booties so lovingly chosen for “him” served just as well for “her” excursion from Clinic to home.
In addition to assuring that the requisite red is worn, the practice of allowing, even encouraging, admirers to touch the new baby is also thought to grant protection. Be they beloved family members, friendly neighbors, or curious total strangers, anyone who shows interest in the new little bundle of joy is expected to reach out and touch baby’s head or arm to assure that she will not suffer any negative effects from the admiration.
An impatiently waiting auntie scooped the baby into her arms with a squeal of delight moments after her parents pushed open the screen door leading onto the porch. If the eagerly extended hands of the other relatives and bystanders who crowded around to meet her were any indication, Little Miss should have been well protected.
I glanced at the bright blue truck hired to get them home. For the driver, mother and baby, and an older female relative seated up front, the accommodation was definitely better than the bus that they likely took to get to us. As for Dad, the aunties, and a three-year-old cousin who made themselves as comfortable as they could in the back, probably ALL of them needed extra protection as they jounced and bounced out the front gate.
Not for the first time, I thank God for the blessing of freedom from such tormenting fears. My heart longs to help them know that my Heavenly Father loves and cares for all the little children of the world, as well as their parents, and grandparents, and aunts, and uncles, and brothers, and sisters. What a privilege to be able to share the assurance of the ultimate provision against evil, more powerful than anything else in the world: the blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son, that cleanses and protects from all sin.