by Joe Hayes
THE DAY IT
SN WED
TORTILLAS
EL DÍA QUE NEVARON TORTILLAS
FOLKTALES TOLD IN
SPANISH AND ENGLISH BY
JOE HAYES
ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANTONIO CASTRO L.
THE DAY IT
SN WED
TORTILLAS
EL DÍA QUE NEVARON TORTILLAS
FOLKTALES TOLD IN
SPANISH AND ENGLISH BY
JOE HAYES
ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANTONIO CASTRO L.
The Day It Snowed Tortillas / El día que nevaron tortillas
Copyright © 2003 by Joe Hayes
Illustrations copyright © 2003 by Antonio Castro L.
Translation by Joe Hayes copyright © 2003
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations for reviews. For information, write Cinco Puntos Press, 701 Texas, El Paso, TX 79901 or call at (915) 838-1625.
First Edition
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hayes, Joe.
The day it snowed tortillas = El día que nevaron tortillas : a classic from the American southwest / by Joe Hayes ; illustrated by Antonio Castro L.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: A collection of classic tales from New Mexico, including “Pedro and Diablo,” “La Hormiguita,” “La Llorona,” and “Juan Camisón,” in both Spanish and English.
ISBN:978-0-9383-1776-0
1. Tales--New Mexico. [1. Folklore--New Mexico. 2. Spanish language materials--Bilingual.] I. Title: El día que nevaron tortillas. II. Castro Lopez, Antonio, ill. III. Title.
PZ8.1.H323Day 2003
398.2’09789--dc21
2003004426
The Day It Snowed Tortillas was originally published in 1982 in English by Mariposa Publishing of Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Many thanks to Joe Mowrey of Mariposa Publishing for his friendship and support, and to Spanish editors Luis Humberto Crosthwaite and Francine Cronshaw.
BOOK AND COVER DESIGN BY ANTONIO CASTRO H.
CONTENTS
THE DAY IT SNOWED TORTILLAS
EL DÍA QUE NEVARON TORTILLAS
PEDRO AND DIABLO
PEDRO Y EL DIABLO
GOOD ADVICE
BUENOS CONSEJOS
THE CRICKET
EL GRILLO
THE LITTLE ANT
LA HORMIGUITA
THE BEST THIEF
EL MEJOR LADRÓN
LITTLE GOLD STAR
ESTRELLITA DE ORO
THE WEEPING WOMAN
LA LLORONA
JUAN CAMISÓN
JUAN CAMISÓN
THE PRINCE
EL PRÍNCIPE
NOTE TO READERS AND STORYTELLERS
OTHER BOOKS BY SAME AUTHOR
FOR KATHLEEN AND ADAM
THE DAY IT SNOWED TORTILLAS
Here is a story about a poor woodcutter. He was very good at his work. He could swing his ax powerfully and cut down big trees. He would split them up into firewood to sell in the village. He made a good living.
But the poor man was not well educated. He couldn’t read or write. He wasn’t very bright either. He was always doing foolish things and getting himself into trouble. But he was lucky. He had a very clever wife, and she would get him out of the trouble his foolishness got him into.
One day he worked far off in the mountains, and when he started home at the end of the day, he saw three leather bags by the side of the trail. He picked up the first bag and discovered that it was full of gold coins! He looked into the second. It was full of gold too. And so was the third.
He loaded the bags onto his donkey and took them home to show to his wife. She was aghast. “Don’t tell anyone you found this gold!” she warned him. “It must belong to some robbers who have hidden it out in the mountains. If they find out we have it, they’ll kill us to get it back!” But then she thought, My husband can never keep a secret. What shall I do?
She came up with a plan. She told her husband, “Before you do anything else, go into the village and get me a sack of flour. I need a big sack. Bring me a hundred pounds of flour.”
The man went off to the village grumbling to himself, “All day I worked in the mountains, and now I have to drag home a hundred pounds of flour. I’m tired of all this work.” But he bought the flour and brought it home to his wife.
“Thank you,” she told him. “You’ve been working awfully hard. Why don’t you go lie down for a while?”
He liked that idea. He lay down on the bed and fell fast asleep. As soon as he began to snore, his wife went to work. She began to make tortillas. She made batch after batch of tortillas. She made them until the stack reached clear up to the ceiling in the kitchen. She turned that whole hundred pounds of flour into tortillas. Then she took them outside and threw them all over the ground.
The woodcutter was so tired he slept all that evening and on through the night. He didn’t wake up until morning. When he awoke, he stepped outside and saw that the ground was covered with tortillas. He called to his wife. “What’s the meaning of this?” he asked.
His wife joined him at the door. “Oh, my goodness!” she said. “It must have snowed tortillas last night!”
“Snowed tortillas? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“What? You’ve never heard of it snowing tortillas? Well! You’re not very well educated. You’d better go to school and learn something.”
She packed him a lunch and dressed him up in his Sunday suit and made him go off to school.
He didn’t know how to read or write, so they put him in the first grade. He had to squeeze into one of the little chairs the children sat in. The teacher asked questions and the children raised their hands enthusiastically. He didn’t know the answers to any of those questions. He grew more and more embarrassed.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He stomped out of the school and hurried home. He picked up his ax and said to his wife, “I’ve had enough education. I’m going to go cut firewood.”
“Fine,” she called after him. “You go do your work.”
About a week later, just as the woman had suspected, the robbers showed up at the house one day. “Where’s that gold your husband found?” they demanded.
The wife acted innocent. “Gold?” she said and shook her head. “I don’t know anything about any gold.”
“Come on!” the robbers said. “Your husband’s been telling everyone in the village he found three sacks of gold. They belong to us. You’d better give them back.”
She looked disgusted. “Did my husband say that? Oh, that man! He says the strangest things! I don’t know anything about your gold.”
“We’ll find out,” the robbers said. “We’ll wait here until he comes home.” And they stayed around the house all day long—sharpening their knives and cleaning their pistols.
Toward evening the woodcutter came up the trail with his donkey. The robbers ran out and grabbed him roughly and demanded, “Where’s that gold you found?”
The woodcutter scratched his head. “Gold?” he mumbled. “Oh, yes, now I remember. My wife hid it.” He called out, “Wife, what did you do with that gold?”
His wife sounded puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about any gold.”
“Sure you do. Don’t you remember? It was just the day before it snowed tortillas. I came home with three bags of gold. And in the morning you sent me to school.”
The robbers look
ed at one another. “Did he say it snowed tortillas?” they whispered. “And that his wife makes him go to school?” They shook their heads in dismay. “Why did we waste our time with this numbskull? He’s out of his head!”
And the robbers went away thinking the woodcutter was crazy and that everything he said was nonsense.
From that day on, it didn’t really matter whether the man was well educated or clever. It didn’t even matter if he was a good woodcutter. He was a rich man! He and his wife had three sacks of gold all to themselves. And the robbers never came back.
EL DÍA QUE NEVARON TORTILLAS
Éste era un pobre leñador. Era muy bueno para trabajar. Manejaba el hacha con fuerza y habilidad para derribar árboles grandes. Los rajaba y los hacía leña que vendía en el pueblo. Se ganaba bien la vida.
Pero el pobre hombre no tenía escuela. No sabía leer ni escribir. Tampoco era muy inteligente. Siempre andaba haciendo tonterías que lo metían en apuros. Pero tenía la buena suerte de tener una esposa muy lista. Ella siempre sabía cómo sacarlo de los líos en que sus bobadas lo metían.
Un día fue a trabajar allá lejos en la sierra y cuando regresaba a casa al final del día vio tres talegones de cuero al lado de la vereda. Fue y agarró el primer talegón y vio que estaba lleno de monedas de oro. Abrió el segundo y también estaba lleno de oro.Y el tercero también.
Amarró los tres talegones en su burro y los llevó a casa para mostrárselos a su esposa. Ella se quedó pasmada. Le dijo: —No digas a nadie que encontraste este oro. Será de unos ladrones. Lo habrán escondido en la sierra. Si se enteran de que nosotros lo tenemos, nos pueden matar para recuperarlo. —Pero luego pensó “este marido mío nunca puede guardar un secreto. ¿Qué puedo hacer?”
Se le ocurrió una idea. Le dijo a su marido: —Antes que hagas ninguna otra cosa quiero que vayas al pueblo y compres un saco de harina. Me hace falta mucha harina. Tráeme cien libras de harina.
El hombre se fue al pueblo refunfuñando: —Pasé todo el día trabajando en la sierra y ahora quieren que cargue con cien libras de harina. Estoy harto de trabajar tanto. —Pero compró la harina y se la entregó a su esposa.
—Gracias —le dijo su mujer—. Pero ya has trabajado mucho. ¿Por qué no te acuestas a descansar un poco?
Esa idea sí le cayó bien. Se echó en la cama y se durmió enseguida. Tan pronto oyó roncar a su marido, la mujer entró en acción. Comenzó a hacer tortillas. Hizo más y más tortillas. Las hizo hasta que el montón de tortillas llegaba al techo de la cocina. Convirtió las cien libras de harina en tortillas. Luego las llevó afuera y las desparramó en la tierra.
El leñador estaba tan cansado que pasó durmiendo toda la tarde y la noche. No se despertó hasta la mañana. Cuando se despertó, miró afuera y vio que la tierra estaba cubierta de tortillas. Llamó a su esposa y le preguntó: —¿Qué es esto?
Su mujer salió también—. ¡Ay, Dios mío! —dijo—. Parece que nevaron tortillas anoche.
—¿Que nevaron tortillas? Yo nunca he oído hablar de tal cosa.
—¿Cómo? ¿Que tú no sabes que pueden nevar tortillas? ¡Vaya! Eres muy ignorante. Vale más que vayas a la escuela para aprender un poco.
Y le preparó un almuerzo, lo hizo vestirse en su traje de domingo y lo mandó a la escuela.
Como el hombre no sabía leer ni escribir, lo mandaron al primer grado. Tenía que acomodarse un una de las sillas pequeñas que usaban los chiquillos. La maestra hacía preguntas y los niños levantaban la mano entusiasmados. Él no pudo contestar ninguna pregunta. Le daba cada vez más vergüenza.
Al fin no podía más. Salió de la escuela a trancadas y corrió a casa. Agarró el hacha.
—Ya estoy harto de la escuela —le dijo a su mujer—. Voy a cortar leña.
—Está bien —le dijo ella—. Anda a hacer tu trabajo.
A eso de una semana más tarde, así cómo había temido la mujer, los ladrónes vinieron a la casa del leñador. Le dijeron a la mujer: —¿Dónde está el oro que halló tu marido?
La mujer se hizo la desentendida. Movió la cabeza y dijo: —¿Qué oro? Yo no sé nada de oro.
—Vamos —dijeron los ladrones—. Tu marido ha dicho a todo el mundo en el pueblo que halló tres talegones de oro. Son de nosotros. Más te conviene devolvérnoslos.
La mujer se mostró molesta: —¿Mi marido dijo eso? ¡Ay, qué hombre! Siempre anda diciendo locuras. Pues, yo no sé nada de su oro.
—Vamos a ver —dijeron—. Aquí nos quedamos hasta que vuelva. —Y los ladrones pasaron todo el día en la case, afilando las navajas y limpiando las pistolas.
Al atardecer vieron venir al leñador con su burro. Salieron y lo agarraron con fuerza. Le gritaron: —¿Dónde está el oro que hallaste?
El leñador se rascó la cabeza: —¿Oro? —musitó—. Ah, sí, ahora me acuerdo. Mi mujer lo escondió. Llamó: —Mujer, ¿qué hiciste con el oro?
Su esposa respondió perpleja: —¿Qué oro? No entiendo qué quieres decir. Yo no sé nada de ningún oro.
—Seguro que sabes. ¿No te acuerdas? Fue el día antes de que nevaron tortillas. Vine a casa con tres talegones de oro.Y luego en la mañana tú me hiciste ir a la escuela.
Los ladrones se miraron los unos a los otros diciendo: —¿Dice aquél que nevaron tortillas? ¿Y que su mujer lo hace ir a la escuela? —Movieron la cabeza desconcertados—. ¿Por qué perdimos tiempo hablando con este bruto? ¡Está loco!
Los ladrones se fueron pensando que el leñador estaba loco y que sólo decía un montón de tonterías.
A partir de aquel día, en realidad no importaba que el hombre fuera listo o bien educado. Tampoco importaba que fuera buen leñador. ¡Era rico! Él y su mujer ya tenían tres talegones de oro.Y los ladrones nunca más volvieron.
PEDRO AND DIABLO
Once in a small mountain village there lived two men who were good friends. The one man’s name was Pedro. The other: well, no one seems to remember his name. You see, no one ever called him by his name. Instead, they used his nickname. Back when he was only seven or eight years old, everyone had started calling him El Diablo—The Devil—because he was so mischievous.
In school, if there was some prank being played on the teacher, you could bet that El Diablo thought the whole thing up. He would get all the other boys involved, and they’d all get caught and get in trouble—except El Diablo. He could always get away with it. So most of the boys learned to stay away from El Diablo. But not his good friend Pedro.
All the way through the grades and on up through high school El Diablo kept dragging his friend Pedro into trouble. And even when they were grown men and should have known better, it was still happening. El Diablo was leading Pedro astray.
For example, there was the time that El Diablo said to his friend, “Pedro, have you noticed the apples on Old Man Martinez’ tree? They look wonderful. Let’s go steal some tonight. It will be dark. No one will see us.”
Pedro said, “Oh, no! Old Man Martinez has that big dog. He’ll bite my leg off!”
But El Diablo told him, “Don’t worry about that dog. He keeps him inside at night. Come on. Let’s get some apples.” And he talked his friend into it.
That night the two friends got a big gunny sack and went to Old Man Martinez’ house. Sure enough, the dog was inside. They crept into the yard and started picking apples from the tree. They filled a big gunny sack with apples, then slipped back out onto the road.
Pedro whispered, “We’ll have to find some place to divide these apples up.”
Of course El Diablo had a great idea. “Let’s go to the camposanto,” he said. “Nobody will bother us in the graveyard.”
So they went down the road until they came to the cemetery. They went in through the gate and walked along the low adobe wall that surrounded the graveyard until they found a dark, shadowy place right next to the wall.
They sat down and dumped out the apples and started to divide them into two piles. As they divided the apples, they whispered, “One for Pedro. . .one for Diablo. One for Pedro. . .one for Diablo. . . ,�
� making two piles of apples.
Now, it just so happened that a couple of men from the village had been out living it up that night—dancing and celebrating and drinking a little too much. In fact, they had so much to drink that they couldn’t make it home. They had fallen asleep leaning against that wall right over from where Pedro and El Diablo were dividing up the apples. The one man was a big, round, fat fellow. The other was old and thin, with a face that was dry and withered looking.
A few minutes later, the old man woke up. From the other side of the wall, over in the graveyard, he heard a voice saying, “One for Pedro. . .one for Diablo. One for Pedro. . .one for Diablo. . . .”
The poor man’s eyes opened wide. “¡Ay, Dios mío!” he gasped. “Saint Peter and the Devil are dividing up the dead souls in the camposanto!”
He woke his friend up and the two men sat there staring, their mouths gaping, too frightened to speak. The voice went on: “One for Pedro. . .one for Diablo. . .one for Pedro. . .one for Diablo. . . .” until finally Pedro and El Diablo got to the bottom of the pile of apples.
Then the two men heard El Diablo’s voice say, “Well, Pedro, that’s all of them.”
But Pedro happened to notice two apples that had rolled away from the rest, over by the wall. One was a nice, round, fat apple. The other wasn’t so good. It was sort of withered up.
They heard Pedro say, “No, Diablo, there are still two more. Don’t you see those two right next to the wall—the big fat one and the withered-up one?”
The hair stood up on the back of those men’s necks! They thought they were the ones being talked about. They listened for what would be said next, and they heard El Diablo say, “Well, Pedro, you can take the fat one. I’ll take the withered-up one.”
