La Bufanda Roja (The Red Scarf)
A tribute to my Tía Dorys
My beloved Aunt passed away on January 1, 2022, and memories of my childhood with her flood my heart and mind. One of these memories was during a time I was sick, and we were together. She told me “Pongase algo rojo” (to put something red on) as it would help rid me of my illness. Colombian folklore regales us with stories about how anything red wards off evil spirits and illnesses and, in this moment, this piece of culture was being passed on to me. It was also my Tia Dorys whose home remedies have always cured what ailed me, so I searched my suitcase, to no avail. She pulled a red scarf out of her closet and gave it me. I put it on and waited to be healed. Now, it may have had a placebo effect, but I loved my Tia immensely and her love alone was healing, but it seemed that the red scarf did the trick.
My Tía was always making something. Idle hands…you know? So, of course, when my sisters and I would stay with her, my uncle, and my cousin for the summer, we were always making something. Cross-stitching was fun, but I struggled with knitting and crocheting. My Tía figured it was because I was left-handed, so she put two chairs in front of a mirror and began teaching me. Funny thing, it worked! It was this skill that got us through my Uncle’s illness and eventually, his passing. We would sit in countless waiting rooms while he received some cancer treatment or another, knit/crochet, and just talk. We had our more complex projects which require counting and keeping track and then the mindless scarf making which we would do when our souls were just tired. After my Uncle passed away, she gave me a bufanda roja (red scarf) to use while at the funeral. I wrapped it tightly around me and held on to my cousin Zaynab, ever so tightly. Every day after the funeral I’d wrap the bufanda roja around me in the hopes of healing my pain.
Shortly after my Uncle’s passing, I moved back to the U.S., went to college, got jobs, did shows, and each time I got sick, I’d wrap myself in something red. Then, my sister who was re-teaching herself how to knit and crochet gifted me one of her first creations. An extra-long red scarf. I had my very own bufanda roja. I’ve used this bufandita (little scarf) since the moment I got it. Every heartache, every illness, every recovery from surgery, I’ve always reached for my bufanda roja, without thinking twice about it.
Today I was able to partake in part of my Aunt’s funeral, courtesy of technology and my strong cousins, who put a beautiful program together. I saw the faces of people who, much like my Tia, were such an important and very present part of my childhood and I just wanted that moment to freeze. But it ended all too quickly and time doesn’t work that way. With my heart hurting so profoundly I searched for something to do to dull the pain. I turned around and like magic (more than likely courtesy of my Tía from the beyond), there was my bufanda roja (the red scarf) my sister made me so many years ago. I slowly put it on, wrapping its healing softness around me, close my eyes, and wait for its magic to heal my broken heart. I will forever be grateful to my Tía for all that she taught me, for all our experiences together, our laughter, our deep conversations, and more importantly, our love. Part of my bufanda roja is hanging over my heart and I quietly sit here, waiting for it to do its magic.
