Hello Mummy

More than 50 miracle cures have been attributed to the mummified corpse of Saint Nicolosa. Alas, I cannot add my hay fever to the tally.

Learn more about Croatia in International Living Postcards--your daily escape

Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Vodnjan, Croatia

Look behind the altar of the church of Sveti Blaza in Vodnjan, a village on Croatia's Istrian peninsula. This is where you'll find what purports to be St. Sebastian's head, spinal column, scapula, and neck muscles, left over from when his head was torn off the body.

If you believe in the intercession of saints, St. Sebastian is your man for curing the plague. So, if you develop suppurating buboes or any other worrying plague-like symptoms, bear this in mind.

That's not all that's behind the altar. Here, too, is the mummified body of the Blessed Leon Bembo, a 12th-century Venetian priest with a reputation for curing blindness. Lying in another glass coffin is another mummy--St. John Olini whose specialty is healing incurable diseases.

I'm here to test if St. Nicolosa Bursa can do anything for hayfever. Since her death in 1512, this Istrian-born nun has reputedly worked over 50 miracles on myriad ailments. Believers claim the force-field of her mummified corpse extends 30 meters. A pamphlet titled "the Phenomenon of Vodnjan" says that her body is the best-preserved in Europe.

Along with the three intact mummified saints, Vodjnan's church also has over 300 "holy" body parts collected from Rome's catacombs and other corners of the former Roman Empire. Together with St Sebastian's assorted bits and bobs, these include St. Barbara's leg and the "unputrified tongue of St. Mary of Egypt." As St. Mary of Egypt was a former prostitute, could her unputrified tongue possibly spare syphilitics from visiting a sexually transmitted diseases clinic? I don't know. St. Barbara is the patron of miners--but what miracles her leg may perform, I can't imagine, either.

In Vodnjan itself, there's a forgotten feel about its old quarter. Walls decorated with faded communist red stars and Italian graffiti urging sempre con Tito (always with Tito) make you question which decade you're in.

Entrance to the church is free (the stained glass windows are vibrantly colorful), but you'll be charged $3 to inspect the mummies. To be honest, they're disappointing and seem to have deteriorated into poor condition. St. Nicolosa's desiccated brown skin didn't look particularly elastic to me.

I'm clueless to what neck muscles (mummified or otherwise) should actually look like. St. Sebastian's remains could be a jumble of 3rd-century anything. No photographs are allowed--the guardian stands there watching and muttering--but you can buy macabre postcards for an equivalent 20 cents apiece.

Steenie Harvey
For International Living

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