Latin American Folktales (32 page)

100. Rosalie

A young man who had started out from home to earn some money came to a hut where a giant lived with three daughters, and falling in love with the youngest, he made up his mind to stay. “You may stay and be my son-in-law,” said the giant, “but only if you can perform the four tasks that I will give you.” The young man agreed.

“First,” said the giant, “I have a great desire to take my bath the moment I get out of bed instead of having to go all the way down to the lake. Tonight you will bring the lake up to the hut, so that when I wake in the morning I can sit on my bed and put my feet in water. Use this basket to carry it.”

The young man hardly knew what to think. But the giant’s youngest daughter, whose name was Rosalie, told him not to worry. That night, while everyone else was sleeping, Rosalie went down to the lake, and with her skirt she swept the water up to her father’s bedside. When the giant awoke, he was astonished to find the water lapping the leg posts of his bed.

Next the giant took a large pot, threw it into the deepest river he could find, and told his future son-in-law to bring it back home. After diving many times, the young man was about to give up, for the river was so deep he could not reach the bottom. Then Rosalie told him to go with her to the riverbank that night, and she would dive. But he must call her name when she reached the bottom, otherwise she would be unable to rise to the surface again. This they did, and the following morning the giant found the pot once more in the house.

The next task was to make a cornfield of a hundred mecates. The young man must clear and burn the forest, do the planting, and at midnight of the same day bring back a load of fresh young ears. He set to work at daybreak but by sunset had accomplished practically nothing.

Then Rosalie stretched out her skirt, and all the forest was immediately felled. Using the same magic, she dried the brush, burned it, sowed the corn, raised the plants, and harvested the young ears, so that the young man was able to take them to her father at midnight.

Furious, the giant went to his wife to ask her how they could get rid of this would-be son-in-law. “We’ll have him thrown from a horse,” said his wife, and they arranged that she herself would turn into a mare, the giant would become the saddle and stirrups, and Rosalie would be the bridle. Rosalie, however, overheard their conversation and warned the one who loved her to treat the bridle carefully and not to spare the horse and the saddle.

Next morning the giant told the young man to go out into the savanna, where he would find a mare already saddled. He was to mount her and bring her back to the house. Meanwhile the giant and his wife and Rosalie took a shortcut through the forest, and by the time the young man arrived, they had changed themselves into the fully saddled mare.

The young man, who had brought along a stout club, jumped onto the mare’s back, and before she had a chance to buck, he began beating her as hard as he could. All but paralyzed by the blows, the mare was unable to throw her rider, and after a few moments she sank exhausted to the ground.

The young man returned to the hut, where a little later he was joined by the giant and his wife, bruised all over and worn out.

The son-in-law had now completed his four tasks, but the giant, going back on his word, told him there were yet more. That night Rosalie decided they must run away, while the giant and his wife would still be sore from the beating. When the two were asleep, Rosalie took a needle, a grain of white earth, and a grain of salt, and spitting on the floor, slipped quietly out of the house to meet the young man.

At daybreak the giant called to Rosalie to get up. “It’s all right, Papa, I’m getting up, I’m combing my hair,” replied the spittle. It spoke with the voice of the giant’s daughter, so he suspected nothing.

A little later the giant again called to Rosalie, asking her if she was dressed yet. Again the spittle replied, “I’m combing my hair.” By this time, however, the spittle was almost dry and could only answer in a whisper. Suspicious, the old lady went into Rosalie’s room and discovered the trick that had been played on them.

Then the giant set out in pursuit of the fleeing couple, rapidly gaining on them. When he had nearly overtaken them, Rosalie turned herself into an orange tree, and the young man disguised himself as an old grandfather. Stopping next to the tree, the giant asked if a young couple had gone by.

“No,” replied the old grandfather, “but stay a moment and rest, and eat some of these oranges.” The giant tasted the oranges and immediately lost his desire to run after his daughter and the young man. Returning to his hut, he explained to his wife that he had been unable to overtake them.

“You fool!” cried the old lady. “That orange tree was Rosalie.”

Again the giant set out in pursuit. When he was once more at the point of overtaking them, Rosalie turned the horse they were riding into a church, her young man into the sacristan, and herself into an image of the Virgin. When the giant reached the church, he asked the sacristan if he had seen any sign of the missing pair.

“Hush!” replied the sacristan. “You must not talk here, the priest is just about to sing Mass. Come inside and see our beautiful Virgin.”

The giant entered the church, and the moment he laid eyes on the statue he lost all thought of pursuing the young couple. Returning once again to his hut, he told his wife how he had seen the Virgin and had decided to come home.

“You fool, you fool!” cried the old lady. “The Virgin was Rosalie. You are too dim-witted to be of any use. I’ll catch them myself.”

The giant’s wife set out at full speed. Rosalie and the young man traveled as fast they could, but the old lady ran faster, and gradually she caught up with them. When she was almost within reach, Rosalie cried out, “We can’t fool her, we’ll have to used the needle.”

Stooping down, she planted the needle in the ground, and immediately a dense thicket grew up. For the moment they were out of danger. As the old lady cut her way through the thicket, the young couple fled on. At last she got clear of the thicket and began gaining on them once more.

When her mother had nearly caught up with them, Rosalie threw down the grain of white earth, and immediately a mountain rose up. Again the couple fled away, as the old lady, half out of breath, scrambled to the top of the steep slope, then slid down the other side.

Clear of the mountain at last, she continued on, rapidly gaining on her daughter and the young man. When she had almost overtaken them, Rosalie threw down the grain of salt, and it became an enormous sea. Rosalie herself became a sardine, the young man a shark, and their horse a crocodile. The old lady waded into the water, trying to catch the sardine, but the shark drove her off. “Very well,” said the old lady. “But you must remain in the water seven years.”

When the seven years were up and they were free at last, they came out on dry land and made their way to the town where the young man’s grandparents lived. Rosalie, however, could not enter the town, because she had not been baptized. She sent the young man ahead, telling him to return with half a bottle of holy water, and on no account was he to embrace his grandparents, for then he would instantly forget his Rosalie.

The young man arrived at his old home and greeted his grandparents, but he would not permit them to embrace him. Feeling tired, he decided to rest awhile before returning to Rosalie with the holy water. Soon he was fast asleep, whereupon his grandmother, bending over him, softly kissed him. When he awoke, he no longer had any recollection of Rosalie.

For days Rosalie waited for him to come back. At last, one morning, seeing a little boy playing at the edge of the town, she called to him and asked him to get her some holy water. The boy brought it to her, and she bathed herself with it and entered the town. There she learned that the one she loved, at the urging of his grandparents, was about to marry another young woman.

Rosalie went straight to the grandparents’ house, but the young man did not know who she was. Nevertheless, she succeeded in having the marriage postponed three days. Then she prepared a great feast and invited all the elders of the town as well as the young man she loved. In the center of the table she placed two dolls she had made: one that resembled herself; the other, the young man.

The guests arrived and sat down to the feast. Then Rosalie pulled out a whip and began thrashing the doll that represented the man.

“Don’t you remember how you were told to carry water in a basket?” she cried, and “Whang!” the whip cut through the air. As it struck the doll, the man himself cried out in pain.

Again she spoke to the doll, “Don’t you remember the pot at the bottom of the river and how I brought it up for you?” “Whang!” and again the young man cried out in pain.

“Don’t you remember the cornfield you had to make and the fresh young ears I grew for you?”

“Whang!”

“And the seven years we spent in the sea?”

“Whang!”

Again the young man shrieked in pain. Then his memories returned to him, and forgetting his bride-to-be, and with a cry of joy, he threw himself into Rosalie’s arms.

Mexico
(Yucatec
Maya)

101. A Day Laborer Goes to Work

There was a little man, a little laborer. Every day he went off to his work. He and his wife lived near their comadre and her husband. During the day, while the man was at work, the comadre would watch to see what the wife was doing.

In the morning after the man had left, the wife would follow her husband to bring him his meal. Later she would come back to feed her animals. This was all that the neighbor could see.

In the evening the man would pass his comadre’s house on his way home. They lived in friendship, these two compadres, but the man’s wife and the comadre were not friendly.

Well, this woman, that’s the comadre, told the man a lie. She said she kept seeing a stranger at his house. “He comes and sits in your place. Sometimes your meal arrives early, doesn’t it? And sometimes late? Well, first the stranger has to eat. Then he lies in your bed.” Of course this wasn’t true, but here’s how she told it: When she saw the compadre on his way home, she stopped him and said, “So, you’re back from work, compadre?”

“Yes, dear comadre, I’ve returned.”

“Ah, you poor thing. How tired you are every day.”

“I’m tired, but I have to look for work to meet my expenses. I have to earn money to take care of my family.”

“You poor thing. Here you are dying of hunger and thirst, and a stranger comes to eat in your house.”

“Who is it?”

“A man. He comes and talks with your wife. First they eat, then they make love. Finally she brings you your tortilla. You can’t believe how it hurts me to tell you this. He comes in the morning at eight, nine, ten o’clock. He keeps your wife from bringing you your little meal. He keeps her busy.”

“Comadre, it can’t be true. Are you sure?”

“Yes, very sure.”

The man was angry now, and he went on his way. “I’m going, comadre. We’ll see each other tomorrow.” She answered him, “Good, compadre.”

He was nearly home now. It was their custom for the wife to come out on the patio as soon as she saw her husband arriving from work. She went out to greet him. He was enraged, he didn’t greet her, he just seethed with anger. He punched her and slapped her in the face and kicked her. Unable to control his anger, he took out his knife and stabbed her. The wife fell down and died.

Now it dawned on him what he had done, and as he saw his wife fall, the realization came over him and he repented and asked God to forgive him. Then he got his blanket out of the house and left. He was afraid because of what he had done. He went out on the road, and as night fell he kept going.

About three in the morning he came to a house at the roadside. A light was burning. An old woman lived there with a little boy. The man asked permission to come in. He said, “Good evening, lady. Good evening, lady.” He said it three times. He wasn’t sure what he was saying. He was in a daze.

“Good evening?” she said. “Rather, good morning. Dawn is almost here.”

“Ave Maria! I thought it was night.”

“No, it’s nearly dawn already, it’s three in the morning. You must have been walking all night.”

“Lady, permit me to rest awhile.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a city, to ask for one or two days’ work. I need to earn a little money.”

“Come in and rest,” said the lady.

He rested. He just napped without sleeping, because he kept remembering his wife. He thought about God and said to himself, “Who knows if what my comadre told me is true? I killed my wife.” He was almost in tears, and all his thoughts were of God. The old woman let him rest about two hours, then said, “Are you ready to get up, dear man? It’s time for work. You’ll need to be there at sunrise.” The man was incredulous. “Where? Are you sure?”

“Yes, there are some big men who are looking for help, because none of their workers ever return.”

“How will I find this place?”

“Get up,” said the lady. “I’m going to give you some coffee and dry tortillas. You’ll need them, the work is very hard. The little boy will show you where the rich men live, who give out the work.”

The man drank his coffee and ate his tortillas. He barely got them down, he was so upset over what he had done to his wife. They gave him another mug of coffee and a plate of beans. He said thanks but had to refuse. “Wait,” said the woman, “the little boy will walk with you awhile to show you the way, and then he’ll return here.”

The man went off with the boy to where the big men lived. He called to the men and greeted them as they came out. One of them said, “You’re looking for work? Good.” Immediately the big man saddled his horse, threw on the reins, and mounted. Then he drove the little man like an animal out to the forest. “This is the place,” he said. “Clean out these trees, make me a decent piece of land for planting.” He handed him a big ax to work with, but it was dull and useless. “You’d better work,” he said. “Or else!”

The little man started to chop at the trees, but they wouldn’t fall. All he could do was bang on them and make noise.

About ten o’clock the little boy came again to bring the man tacos and water. “How is the work going?”

“Good,” said the man. “I’m getting there, a little at a time.”

“You’ve cut down some trees? Where are they?”

“These blessed trees! They only make noise, they don’t want to fall.”

“I know. That’s the kind of work these men have. What were you thinking? Why did you come here?”

“I had to have work.”

“Well,” said the boy, “here’s food. While you’re eating, I’ll help you with some of them.” He picked up the ax, and with one or two chops the trees thundered and fell.

The man kept eating his lunch. “Ave Maria,” he said to himself, “how does this boy do it?” In less than an hour the boy had piled up ten trees. “Well, with these you ought to get by,” he said. “When the big man comes back to see what you’ve done, he won’t be able to touch you.”

At eleven o’clock the big man appeared. “How much have you done? Ah, good, good. I think you are better than I am. But don’t let up.” The big man was carrying a whip, and his horse was bucking. “Hurry! Work!” And he went off to check on his other fields, while the little man kept on working, making no progress.

The next day they gave him more work. When he went back at night, the old woman asked him, “How is it going?”

“Slowly.”

“I know,” said the woman. “They want you to hurry. If you don’t, they beat you. That’s their custom, you have to be fast. Each day I’ll send the boy to help with the work, so they won’t harm you. As long as you’re with me, nothing will happen to you.”

The next day the big man gave him a sickle to harvest wheat. The sickle wasn’t sharp, it kept sliding off, and the blessed wheat refused to be cut. At ten o’clock the little boy arrived with the lunch. “How much have you done?”

“I’m working as fast as I can, but the sickle is useless.”

“Here,” said the boy, “eat, and I’ll help you.” He picked up the sickle and began swinging it back and forth. In no time there was a mound of wheat. “Now you’ll be safe when the big man comes.” And the little man trembled at the thought. “Hurry,” said the boy, “finish eating and get back to work. I have to leave now, so he won’t find me here.”

The big man arrived. He said, “What have you been up to? Blast! You’re better than I am!” He wanted to be angry at the little man, but he couldn’t. “Do you want to eat? Here, I’ve brought you some food.” But the man said no. The old woman had told him, “Don’t eat anything they give you.”

“All right, don’t! But if you’re hungry, let me know. I’ll give you food. On top of that, you’re earning your pay.” But it wasn’t true. They were cheating him. There was no pay except beatings for not working fast enough.

The next morning the old woman told him, “You’ll be getting another kind of work today.” She knew all about it. “It won’t be the same as before,” she said. “They’ve been testing you.”

“Whatever they give me, God will help me.”

“Yes, the boy will come bring you a taco,” she said, “but you must work.”

So once again he arrived at the house of the big man. “Now you are going to plow furrows where you cut down the wheat,” he was told. “Go hitch up a team and get the plow.” But they gave him two bad mules that didn’t want to be hitched. They bit him and kicked him. The little boy had advised him, “Don’t be afraid when you try to hitch the big man’s mules. Just punch them and you’ll subdue them. These animals they give you are like wild beasts.”

And they gave him the mules and he roped them together. It was work. They bit his hands. “Ave Maria!” cried the laborer, and he kept his thoughts on God. He put on the reins and the mules bit his hands again. He slapped them around. They were so wild that fire came from their mouths and eyes. They didn’t want to be driven or pull the furrows.

The little boy came again and asked, “How much work have they done?”

“They don’t want to go.”

“Ah, they’ll go,” said the boy. “You eat, and I’ll help you with a furrow or two.”

Well, he took hold of the animals and spoke to them slowly. Immediately they began to pull furrows. They cut every row in the field. But when the man finished eating and tried to take charge of his team, they bit him again, and they kicked him until fire poured from their hooves and their eyes and their noses. “Hit them, punch them if they do that to you,” said the boy. “Beat them, don’t be afraid of them. That’s why they gave you a whip.” The man listened and beat the mules. And the mules cried out, “Compadre, stop! You’re killing us!”

At last it was evening, and the man untied the mules. He put them in the corral, gave them food, and went home to the house of the little old woman.

“How much have you worked?” she asked. “How tired you look.”

“Yes, tired. Those animals they gave me wouldn’t move.”

“Ah, that’s the way they are. Well now, you’ve done your penance.

Now you can go back to your own house. Rest. Tomorrow you go home.” The man rested, he lay down, they gave him food. Tortillas and beans. And water, no pulque.

About three in the morning the old woman said, “Are you up?” “Yes, lady, I’m awake.”

“Now you may go to your house. Your wife is there, crying. She lights a candle for you and remembers you. She is all right. You beat her. But what you did to her was not your fault. It was the fault of your comadre—the one you drove like an animal yesterday, the one you tied up. You were punished for what you did to your wife, and your comadre was punished also. You drove her, and she pulled the plow. Now go to your wife. She is crying, thinking she has lost you. She doesn’t know where you went. Go see her.”

“Yes, lady. Thank you.” He got up.

“Go on, go see her now. Forget what was done to her, forget what we’ve talked about.” And the old woman showed him her bleeding heart, and it was the dear Virgin, with the mark of the wound on her breast.

“Don’t always believe what people tell you,” she said. “Believe what you see. Now, when you pass your comadre’s house, you will talk with her. Her eyes are blackened from what you did to her yesterday.”

He went home and greeted his comadre, whose house was on the road near his own. She was black and blue and cut up from the beating. “Ah, dear compadre,” she said, “you punished me yesterday.”

“So, it was you?”

“Yes, it was me.”

“But I only did what the boss told me to do. I was carrying out orders. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Ah, so that’s how it was, compadre. I told you a lie. And for this, I believe, we went to the place where the Devil lives.”

Mexico
(Otomi)
/ Jesús
Salinas
Pedraza