Latin American Folktales

by John Bierhorst

  After that, things changed. Instead of gifts and tidbits, Mariquita’s stepmother and stepsisters gave her dark looks and scoldings and whacked her with the backs of their hands.

  Knowing she had brought it all on herself, she couldn’t say a word to her father and had to suffer in silence. She would have gone on like this until who knows when, except that one day the whole thing boiled over. The sisters yanked her hair, and when she complained, the stepmother picked up a piece of stove wood and pummeled her with it. “Complain, will you? You had it coming! My daughters know you better than you know yourself!”

  What they did know was that Mariquita was set to inherit her father’s fortune, and because of it they couldn’t stand the sight of her.

  When the father came home that night, Mariquita told him the truth for a change. She refused to blame him, though. All she wanted was to live by herself in a certain little cottage her mother had left her, and the father at last agreed, since he could think of no other way to keep peace in the family.

  Then one evening when Mariquita was sweeping her little dooryard, she heard a voice: “Mariquita, I’ll help you sweep.” Startled, she looked around but saw no one. The voice came again: “Look up in the peumo tree!” She looked, and there was a parrot. “Shall I come down?”

  “Please! And be my friend, I’m so lonely. What can I get you? Nuts? Chocolate? Wine sops?”

  “Not until after dark,” he said. “Put a basin of water on your windowsill, a comb, a mirror, and a hand towel, and you’ll see me later.”

  At midnight there was a whirring of wings. The parrot dipped himself in the basin, dried off, combed his feathers, and looked in the mirror. Then, as he bounded into the room, he became the most handsome prince you ever dreamed of.

  I’ll tell nothing at all of what they said to each other, except that when morning came the prince promised to be back that night and every night, and before he flew off he left a heavy bag. It was full of money. From then on Mariquita knew only happiness, and she began to wear silk and put on earrings and bracelets.

  One of the stepsisters passed by the cottage one day and caught a glimpse of Mariquita through the open window. She ran back to her mother and sisters and told them she’d seen silk and jewels.

  “Somebody’s giving her money,” said the mother. Then she instructed her eldest daughter, “Go pay a visit to little Mariquita. Spend the night and keep your ears open. Come back in the morning and tell us everything.”

  The next day the girl showed up at Mariquita’s door with a hundred lies: “We can hardly stand it that you went away,” “All the little gifts we gave you!” “What thanks did we get?” “How it hurts!” “We’re dying to see you again.”

  Then she added, “I’ve come to spend the day with you. And the night!”

  Nothing if not good-hearted, Mariquita said, “Thanks.” But not wanting her stepsister to hear the prince arrive, she served her wine at dinner and kept refilling the glass until, when the stepsister stood up to go to bed, her head was spinning. By the time she lay down, a carriage could have rolled over her and she wouldn’t have felt a thing.

  She went home the next day with tales of fine furnishings, perfect housekeeping, and rare foods and wines, which made the mother and the sisters more jealous than they’d been before. Worse, she had seen nothing of what she had been told to watch for. The mother took hold of her middle daughter. “Go now, and see if you can do better. I’m warning you, don’t sleep a wink!”

  The girl set off, but she drank her dinner, just as her sister had done, and when she got back the following morning she couldn’t say any more than she could have said before she went.

  The youngest daughter, who was the most jealous of all, said, “Mother, I’m going right now! Trust me, I’ll find out what we need to know!”

  Off she ran. And when dinner was served, she only pretended to drink. She slept not a wink, her eye at the keyhole all night long. At midnight the parrot arrived at the windowsill, dipped in the basin, and became a prince. He sat close to Mariquita, caressing her, murmuring tenderly. By morning the stepsister’s jealousy had nearly eaten her alive, yet there she was, still hunched over the keyhole. She saw the prince jump to the windowsill, bathe himself, and fly away. And not without leaving a sackful of money.

  Moments later she was out the door. As soon as she could no longer be seen from the cottage she started to run. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother. “Mama!” she announced. “Those ninnies fell asleep, but I stayed awake and saw it all, all, all!”

  “We’ve got them now!” cried the mother. “That sow and her famous prince won’t be whispering tonight!”

  Then shortly before midnight she slipped up to the cottage window and without the slightest noise laid three sharpened knives on the windowsill. When the parrot landed, the knives cut into his flesh and he let out with a shriek. “Mariquita, my love, you’ve betrayed me! Today was the last day of my enchantment. I would have been free, and now I am lost. May you repent! When you do, come after me. You must put on a pair of iron shoes, and not until the soles are worn through will you find me.” With that, he vanished.

  Mariquita fell to weeping, then caught herself. “Why weep,” she thought, “when I could be looking for my husband?” She ran to the cobbler and ordered iron shoes. The moment they were ready she pulled them on. She bundled up a change of clothes, a pair of scissors, and a little flask, and off she went.

  She climbed mountains and crossed prairies, never stopping to rest. Aches and pains couldn’t hold her back, not even exhaustion, though she felt it sorely. One day, when her strength had nearly ebbed away, she lay down in a thicket at the edge of a lake. She stretched out her legs and, oh bliss! the tips of her toes popped out. When she turned her shoes over she saw that the soles were completely worn through. “I’ve almost arrived,” she thought. “I’ll be with him soon.”

  Night was coming, but there was a rustling nearby and she couldn’t sleep. Three duck women had landed at the edge of the lake:

  “What kept you, comadre? And you, my goddaughter, what took so long?”

  “Well, finally, comadre! That stupid husband of mine and my two older daughters, the good-for-nothings! I thought they’d never get to sleep. But here I am with my youngest, your goddaughter, comadre. She’s a witch after our own hearts. But tell us the latest. What’s happening with the parrot prince? Is he dead yet?”

  “They say it’ll be only three more days. His wounds won’t heal. Those knives you laid on the windowsill were just the thing, comadre. His doctors will never guess the cure.”

  “And what’s the cure?”

  “Hush! Don’t you know the walls have ears and the bushes have eyes?”

  “Go on, tell us. There’s nobody here but us three.”

  “Well, who’d ever guess that the prince would be cured if they just took a feather from the right wing of each of us and waved it over the prince’s wounds after dipping it in our blood? Of course they’d have to kill us first.”

  “But how would they ever guess? The Devil wouldn’t allow it.”

  When their meeting was over, the three waddled into the reeds at the waterside and settled down for the night.

  Mariquita waited until she was certain the ducks had fallen asleep. Then she went up to the closest of the three, which was none other than her own stepmother, and sliced off its head with one clip of her scissors. She took a feather from its right wing and poured a few drops of its blood into her flask. The next duck she came to was her stepsister, and she did the same; and the same again with the stepsister’s godmother. After that she changed into men’s clothing and hurried toward the city.

  Running into the palace she yelled out to the king, “I’m a doctor!” She gave her orders: “I must be left alone with the prince.” When she reached his room, his eyes were already closed. She dipped one of the feathers into the flask and waved it gently over his wounds.

  The next morning the king came in and asked, “How is my son?
”

  “See for yourself, sire. The worms have left, and the wounds are starting to close.” When the king had gone, Mariquita took the second feather, dipped it into the witches’ blood, and as she waved it in the air the prince opened his eyes.

  The day after that she soaked up the rest of the blood with the third feather, passed it back and forth over the prince’s body, and he sat up and was well. Then she told him everything that had happened.

  When the king came in, his joy was so great I haven’t the words to describe it. He gave his consent to the marriage, and they celebrated with much rejoicing throughout the kingdom.

  And I can tell you it’s true, since they had me to the wedding banquet and fed me until I nearly burst.

  With that my tale is done, and the wind blows it into the sea.

  Chile

  Chain Riddles

  I.

  “Where’s the corn?”

  “Under a metate.”

  “Where’s the metate?”

  “In a gopher hole.”

  “Where the hole?”

  “Covered by a crab.”

  “Where’s the crab.”

  “Eaten by a heron.”

  “Where’s the heron?”

  “Perched in a tree.”

  “Where’s the tree?”

  “Fell in the water.”

  “Where’s the water?”

  “A deer drank it up.”

  “Where’s the deer?”

  “Scared off by a fire.”

  “Where’s the fire?”

  “Put out by the rain.”

  “Where’s the rain?”

  “Carried off by the wind.”

  “Where’s the wind?”

  “It blew away behind the mountain.”

  Mexico (Mixe)

  II.

  Comadre frog, where’s your husband?

  “Coming, madam.”

  “What’s he wearing?”

  “His little suit.”

  “And what’s its color?”

  “Green-and-yellow.”

  “Are we off to Mass?”

  “I have no blouse.”

  “Shall we hear the sermon?”

  “I have no shawl.”

  No bread to eat and nothing at all.

  Puerto Rico

  III.

  The moon, the moon, Santa Rosa,

  Where did Rosa go?

  “She went for two red-hot coals.”

  “Why the fire?”

  “To cook the corn.”

  “Why the corn?”

  “To make pancakes.”

  “Why the pancakes?”

  “For Grandfather to take to the orchard.”

  “What’s Grandfather want in the orchard?”

  “He went for a vine.”

  “Why the vine?”

  “To beat Grandmother, so she’ll get up from the kitchen and bring a jug of water.”

  “Why the water?”

  “For the chickens to drink.”

  “Why the chickens?”

  “To lay the eggs.”

  “Why the eggs?”

  “For food for the priest.”

  “Why the priest?”

  “To say a little Mass.”

  Ting-a-ling, the milk palm nut,

  Ting-a-ling, the coyol palm nut.

  Mexico (Zapotec)

  IV.

  “The king and queen have gone for water.”

  “Where’s the water?”

  “The chicks drank it up.”

  “Where are the chicks?”

  “They’re eating little bones.”

  “Where are the bones?”

  “The king took them.”

  “Where’s the king?”

  “He went to say Mass.”

  “Where’s the Mass?”

  “He wrapped it in paper.”

  “Where’s the paper?”

  “It flew to heaven.”

  New Mexico

  V.

  “Where are you going, daddy-long-legs?”

  “Over there.”

  “Why over there?”

  “To get a white flower.”

  “Why the flower?”

  “To put at the feet of a girl.”

  “What happened to the girl?”

  “Bitten by a white snake.”

  “Where’s the snake?”

  “We killed it.”

  “Where did you throw it?”

  “Into the fire.”

  “Where are the ashes?”

  “The old church was patched up with them.”

  “And the old church?”

  “Collapsed.”

  “Who knocked it down?”

  “A crippled sheep gave it a kick.”

  “And where’s the sheep?”

  “A coyote ate it.”

  “Where’s the coyote?”

  “A vulture ate it.”

  “Where’s the vulture.”

  “Flew away.”

  Mexico (Otomi)

  VI.

  “Let’s hunt.”

  “My rifle’s broken.”

  “Where are the parts?”

  “I burned them.”

  “Where are the ashes?”

  “Eaten by a falcon.”

  “Where’s the falcon?”

  “Went to the sky.”

  “Where in the sky?”

  “Fell.”

  “Then where did it fall?”

  “Went in a well.”

  “Where’s the well?”

  “Disappeared.”

  “Where’d it disappear?”

  “Into your belly button.”

  “True.”

  Mexico (Yucatec Maya)

  PART EIGHT

  85. A Dead Man Speaks

  My cousins Andrés, Francisco, and Santiago had wanted to come to the United States for a long time. They were coming to see us, but they got on the wrong train, and instead of coming to Austin they went to Oklahoma. While there, they worked as cowboys.

  Once while the three were out on the range, one of their fellow cowboys became ill. They took the cowboy to the nearest house, which was a two-room abandoned shack. The cowboy died, and the others put his body on some planks in one of the rooms and placed a candle at the head of the body and another at the foot.

  Then one of the cowboys suggested a game of cards to while away the time. My cousin Francisco objected. He said, “There’s a dead man in the next room. We can’t be disrespectful.”

  The others refused to hear. They began to play cards and drink whiskey. One of the candles began to burn very low, and they had no other, so Andrés told Francisco, “Go into the other room and get one of the candles.”

  Francisco went into the room where the dead man lay. As he clutched the candle, the dead man raised himself up slightly. Francisco tripped, threw down the candle, and fell against the planks. The candle at the head of the body blew out and the planks flew up into the air. As they did so the dead man was thrown forward on Francisco. His elbows pricked Francisco and he heard a shrill voice say, “You must respect dead men.”

  At this, Francisco screamed, “Help, the dead man is killing me!”

  When the cowboys heard this, they ran out of the shack. Andrés was the first to recover, and he went back to see what had happened to Francisco. Francisco had fainted. The cowboys revived him, but they didn’t go back to the cards and whiskey. They never again played or drank when they were around a dead man.

  Texas / Mrs. Charles G. Balagia

  86. The Bear’s Son

  A man and his wife were very poor. The man would go looking for wild honey.

  One day when he’d had some success, he told his wife he was going off to make a sale. But then he said, “No, I’d better not. There’s a bear that comes out of the forest along the road I’d have to take.”

  “Never mind,” said his wife. “I’ll go myself.”

  “And if the bear comes out?”

  “God preven
t it!”

  “Very well, if you wish.” He gave her six bottles of honey packed in a basket. She went out the door saying, “May the hand of God protect me!”

  When she got to the forest, the animal was there. She could hear him coming. He seized her roughly, and the honey bottles fell out on the road. But the bear didn’t want the honey. He picked up the woman and carried her to his cave. It was a huge cave, big as a church. When she looked it over, she saw that it was quite nice, like a house.

  The bear said to her, “I’m going out now. Stay here or I’ll kill you. Is that clear?” When he returned, he brought tidbits of meat, neatly wrapped in guaruma leaves. “I can’t eat this,” she said. “It’s not cooked.”

  He understood. He made a little fire in a corner of the cave and grilled the meat. Every night he would go out, and before it was light he would return. During the day he stayed with the woman. They lived on. After a year she had a little boy.

  “Dear God!” she thought. “What have I gotten into?” But she did her duty and brought up the child. His diet was raw meat, which he ate eagerly. Before she knew it, she had a fifteen-year-old boy on her hands, his lower body covered in fur, the rest of him human, except that his eyes were round like a bear’s.

  “Look at me! Fur down to my feet! Is that animal my father?”

  “He loves you. He loves your animal half, and he loves your human half, too,” said the mother.

  But the boy knew the bear’s ways, and he had been told many times that the bear would kill his mother if she tried to leave. He said, “Mother, watch me!” He picked up a log and broke it in half. “Don’t kill him for my sake,” she said. “Do it for yourself!”

  That night the boy waited until the bear settled down to sleep, then he beat him with half a log. He didn’t stop until the bear was dead. “Now let’s get out of here!” said the mother. “We’ve got to get you baptized.”

  “What’s ‘baptized,’ mother?”

  “It’s something that happens in a church.”

  “It sounds good.”

  They walked until nightfall and stopped at a deserted cabin. In the morning the boy said, “Before you take me to be baptized, you must let me see what a real man looks like.”