Latin American Folktales

by John Bierhorst

  “What am I, your servant? I’ve got business elsewhere.”

  “And where is elsewhere, my son?”

  “Elsewhere is where they’ll sweep me off my feet!”

  “And what do you have in those sacks?”

  “Stones, busybody!”

  “Go, my son! Good luck with the stones and may you be swept off your feet!”

  In town the boy got an immediate offer for his two loads. But when the dealers opened the sacks, what did they find? Stones. They lifted him off his feet and strung him up, and only because they were trembling with rage was he able to wriggle loose and run away.

  This time the father was in no mood to hear stories and gave both sons a scolding they wouldn’t forget. “Rascals or dupes,” he cried, “I can’t tell which!”

  On the third day the youngest son offered to go into town with the last two loads. The father shook his head, “You’re too young to manage.” But the boy wouldn’t take no for an answer and set off by himself with the burro and the two loads. At the riverbank the little old woman appeared.

  “Son, would you be so kind as to fetch me some water?”

  “Why not, old woman?” He leaned over to dip it up. And when the old woman had slaked her thirst, she said, “Where are you off to, son?”

  “I’m off to town, old woman.”

  “Son, what do you have in those sacks?”

  “My father’s wheat. I’m going to sell it.”

  “Go, my son! May you sell wheat!”

  When he got to town the dealers, who were tired of tricks, refused to listen. But when he opened the sacks and showed them wheat of the highest quality, they paid well. Of course he took the money straight to his father.

  In disgust the two older sons decided to leave home. Seeing them saddle their horses, the youngest boy pleaded, “Brothers, let me go with you!”

  “Don’t be stupid! Somebody has to stay with the old man, and it’s not going to be us. Everything we try to do turns out wrong, so we’re clearing out. Good-bye!” They dug in their spurs and sped off. When they were out of sight, the little brother packed a lunch and took off after them on foot.

  All day and all night he walked without stopping, until at last in the distance he could make out two riders. They turned their heads and saw him coming. “Look who’s here!”

  “What do you suppose he wants?”

  “Let’s see what he’s carrying!”

  He was all caked with dust and sweat. “Brothers,” he said, “let me ride on the rump of one of your horses.”

  “No, you belong at home with Papa. Go back!”

  “Just let me ride on the rump!”

  “Can we see what you’re carrying?”

  “You can!” He opened his lunch bag and showed them the food he had packed. “Can we take it from you?”

  “You can!” He handed it to them gladly, and as he watched them stuff themselves, he pleaded again to ride on the rump. “Sure, climb up, if you’ll let us pluck out your eyes.”

  “All right, I’ll let you do it,” he said. And what do you know? They did just that. And when they’d plucked out his eyes, they rode off, leaving him blind and stumbling in the middle of the road. With his hands in front of him he made his way to the trunk of a tree. There he settled himself to reflect on his brothers’ cruelty and his miserable fate. Night came, and three witches flew into the top of the tree.

  “Kwok, kwok, kwok!” laughed one of the witches. “Did you hear what happened?”

  “No, my dear. What?”

  “Well, I never thought we’d get this far. The whole world’s coming to an end.”

  “Tell us more!”

  “Well! It’s gotten to where brothers are turning against brothers. Just today two of them plucked out the eyes of one of their own and left him blind. Imagine it! Their own flesh and blood!”

  “Ah, yes, my dear, but you know, the cure for it is right at our fingertips.”

  “And what’s the cure, woman?”

  “All you’d have to do is pick three leaves from this very tree we’re in, pass them in front of your eyes, and you’d see again.”

  “You’re not serious!”

  “But I am! Kwok, kwok!” And with that, the three rose out of the tree and flew off.

  By now it was nearly dawn. The boy had heard the entire conversation. He broke off three of the leaves and passed them over his face. In that instant his eyes lit up and he could see again.

  He continued down the road, walking day and night. Coming into a town after many days, he learned that his brothers had taken up residence there. He found their house, and when they saw him at their doorstep, they said, “It’s our boy! What ever did you do to get back your eyesight?”

  “It just happened,” he said, then said no more. The two brothers wondered, “What should we do with him?” They decided to make him their cook and housekeeper. “And he can feed the horses, too!”

  One day the brothers came home with news. The king in that town had issued a summons, calling all knights from near and far to ride past the palace gate. Whoever could toss an apple into the princess’s balcony, hitting her on the bosom, would be given her hand in marriage. Each of the two brothers vowed to compete. The youngest, who by now had become a man, secretly decided to join them.

  When the day of the competition arrived and his two brothers had ridden off, the youngest took out his wand and recited, “O little wand, by the power within you that God has allowed you, bring me the Horse of Seven Colors.” As the words were spoken, the horse appeared. “What do you want with me?”

  “Since I’m on my way to compete for the princess, don’t you think I need something to wear?” In a wink he was dressed like a prince. Mounted on the Horse of Seven Colors he appeared at the tournament after all the other contestants had failed. At full gallop he hurled the apple up to the balcony, high as it was, and into the princess’s open window. Then just as quickly as he had come, he disappeared. People were gasping. Such marksmanship!

  When the two older brothers got back to the house, they found the youngest at work at the hearth, all covered with soot. They paid no attention to him and chatted away. “Say, buddy, that knight had some aim, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but he might not have hit the princess.”

  “You know something funny? The guy looked like our little brother here!”

  The next day the two went back to the tournament, hoping for better luck. They took aim and let fly. But just like all the others they weren’t able to get their apples even halfway to the royal window. Then here came the knight on the seven-colored horse in an outfit even more dazzling than the one he had worn the day before. His apple sailed up to the princess’s window and grazed her cheek. There was a roar from the crowd. They were arguing. Some thought the apple had struck her bosom; others weren’t sure. Meanwhile the dashing knight slipped away without a trace.

  That evening when the two older brothers returned home, the youngest was in the kitchen quietly washing dishes. One of the two, who had just come in, said to the other, who had gotten there before him, “Today I saw that knight up close, buddy. He really looks like this one here!”

  “Maybe you’re on to something. He seems to be able to pull off anything he wants. Remember the wheat field?”

  “And the two loads of grain?”

  “And the eyes?”

  They fell silent, then one of them burst out, “What’s the matter with us? He’s a country boy! Where would he get fancy suits like that? Or a horse with those wings and those changing colors?”

  “You’re right, buddy, we lost our heads for a minute.”

  “But whoever he is, he’s going to be the winner.”

  “Seems that way. But we’ll try again tomorrow, won’t we, buddy? It’s the last day.”

  “Who’s a quitter? Not me!”

  So they all went back for the final day, but none could hit even the bottom of the princess’s window. Suddenly the knight on the little horse appea
red, dressed with all the jewels and sparkle of a prince from a distant land. He paused for a moment so that his brothers could get an eyeful, then tossed the apple and hit the princess squarely on the bosom.

  The crowd went wild. “A wedding! A wedding!” The king called the horseman to his side and presented the princess. She fell in love with him on the spot, and the marriage was celebrated without delay. There was a gala banquet.

  Then the bridegroom summoned his two brothers. “So you see, you were right. And today I could punish you for everything you’ve done to me. But instead, you’re pardoned. All I ask is that you go home and get Father. Bring him here so he can live with the princess and me.”

  The brothers were speechless, they wept. Then they hurried off to get the old father. The Horse of Seven Colors spoke up, “I’ve been with you until this day. Now you are content, and I have paid my debt.” With that, the little horse vanished, leaving the happy prince standing next to his bride.

  Venezuela / Carmen Dolores Maestri

  13. The Cow

  A man and his wife had been married awhile and were expecting their first child. They were poor, but the wife had a nice little cow, and the husband, knowing they would need money, said, “What about it, my dear? Shall I sell the cow?” She said, “Very well.” And he took the cow to market.

  When he got to town, he passed a man with a lamb. The man said, “Where are you headed, my friend?”

  “I’m about to sell this cow.”

  “Give me the cow, and you can have the lamb.”

  “Good enough, my friend.” And he took the lamb and went on. At the next corner he met a man with a rooster. “Where are you going, my friend?”

  “I’m on my way to sell a lamb.”

  “I’ll give you my rooster.”

  “Good enough, friend.” And he turned into the side street and came to a man with a goose. “Friend,” he said, “will you take this goose for your rooster?”

  “Good enough. I’ll take it.” He kept on going and passed another sharpster. This one had a sack of dried manure. “Friend, I’ve got a deal for you. Take this sack for the goose.”

  “Good enough, friend.” And he headed for home. On the way he stopped at his compadre’s house.

  “How’re things going?” asked the compadre.

  “Not bad. I sold my wife’s cow for a lamb.”

  “And where’s the lamb?”

  “I was able to sell it for a rooster.”

  “And where’s the rooster?”

  “Sold it for a goose, then sold the goose for this sack of manure.”

  “Are you crazy? Your wife will be furious.”

  “She won’t.”

  “She will,” said the compadre.

  “You want to bet?” said the husband.

  “What would you bet? You haven’t a cent to your name.”

  “I’ll bet you my life against everything you have, and you’ll see. My wife won’t be angry.” Then the compadre’s wife spoke up, “Don’t do it, compadre. You’ll lose, then your compadre will own you.” But they brought in witnesses all the same, and they drew up a contract.

  “Come hide outside the window, and bring those witnesses,” said the husband, and he went off with the sack. When he got to his own little house, he said, “Here I am, dear!”

  “And how did it go, dear?”

  “Not bad at all, dear. I sold the cow for a lamb.”

  “Well, at least we can butcher it. We’ll use the lambskin on the bed, and I’ll dry the meat and save it for when I have my baby.”

  “What I was about to say, dear, is that I traded the lamb for a rooster.”

  “You make do with what you have,” she said. “I’m an early riser. I’ll have the rooster to get me up.”

  “Well,” he said, “I was able to trade the rooster for a goose.”

  “So there!” she said. “Not everybody has a goose.”

  “And then I managed to trade the goose for this nice little bag of manure.”

  “Great!” said the wife. “Next time that awful neighbor insults me, I’ll tell her to eat from the bag.”

  So what did the poor man get? All his compadre’s riches. And the rich compadre? He was left with nothing.

  New Mexico / Concepción Rodríguez

  PART TWO

  14. Death and the Doctor

  This was out in the country, and there was a man who kept thinking if only he could find the right work it would make him rich. Then one day Death stood in front of him and said, “I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to make you a doctor. You’ll cure the sick just by laying your hands on them, and if you see me standing at the foot of the bed, you’ll know there won’t be any trouble. But if I’m standing at the head of the bed, don’t bother. The cure won’t work.”

  The man went to the city and began to practice his art. Time passed. He cured thousands, and word spread through the town that there was a physician working miracles. The news reached the king, whose daughter was gravely ill, and the king sent for the doctor.

  When the man arrived, the king said, “My daughter is about to give up the ghost. Save her, you’ll have half my kingdom and my daughter’s hand in marriage. But if she dies, you’ll be hanged at the gallows.” The man started to cure the princess and saw that Death had stationed himself at the head of the bed. He thought, “Disaster! Instead of working a cure I’m going to be hanged.” But an idea came to him. He turned the bed so that the princess’s feet were where her head had been. And Death, seeing that he had been tricked, left the room. But not without planning revenge.

  When the cure was finished, the king lived up to his promise and told the man to come back the next day for the wedding. But when the doctor walked out of the palace, Death caught him by the arm and said, “You’re coming with me.” He took him up to the sky and showed him acres and acres of little oil lamps. He said, “You see these lamps? These are the lives of all the people on earth, and this one that’s sputtering and about to go out is yours.”

  The man said, “All right, but just give me fifteen minutes and I’ll tell you a story you’ll like.” Death agreed, and while the man was telling the story, he looked around him, found where the oil was kept, and poured enough of it into his own little lamp to keep it burning. Today that man is still alive. I know him.

  Dominican Republic / Feyito Molina

  15. What the Owls Said

  It was in the old days. There was a hunter who told his wife to pack him a dinner bag so he could go out and bring back some game, and when it was ready he went.

  The whole day he saw nothing. It started to get dark. He took cover in a woods where there were tall trees, rested his rifle against a tree trunk, and lay down next to it. Before long two owls flew into the tree and sat on a branch. The two began to talk, and this is what they said:

  “You know, they’re like that. We’re the ones who can help, and what thanks do we get? They see us and chase us off.”

  “I know. They throw a hot coal to shoo you away.”

  “They throw stones. They try to hit you.”

  “They even pick up a rifle and try to kill you, when all you’re doing is offering a little help. They don’t seem to like it when somebody wants to do a favor.”

  “I know. They’ve got three doctors on the case already, and the patient isn’t any better. They stick a needle in him, they give pills, and everything. But it doesn’t work. Now, a good sorcerer would examine the patient and know there must be an animal under the bed and get rid of it and that would ease the sickness. All he’d have to do is throw a handful of kernels and one of them would roll to where the animal was.”

  “And after that he’d take an egg and roll it in paper.”

  “And then he’d put a little rum in a hollow reed and bury it in the earth and the sickness would go away. Any good sorcerer would do that.”

  Lying under the tree, the hunter could hear these instructions clearly. The next morning he went to the nearest ranch and aske
d what was happening. “Why are all these people standing around?”

  “Ah!” they said. “The señor is gravely ill. Three doctors are in there right now, and still the patient is no better. The only thing that hasn’t been tried is one of those witch doctors the Indians use. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “Me? Oh, no,” protested the man. “But let me ask one thing. Would it have to be someone who looks like a healer?”

  And already they knew they had their man. The patient’s little boy ran into the house to ask his father if it would be all right to let the man come in, and he came back to say the permission had been given.

  The man said, “Well, how am I going to go in there and stand next to those doctors who know so much? They know everything, and here I am in short pants. If I could be fixed up like a regular doctor, I might be able to visit the patient.”

  The boy went back inside. When he returned, he was carrying a pair of long pants and a clean shirt, because the señor, being rich, had everything.

  “This is good,” said the man. “But what about a hat? Doctors have nice hats. And shoes and everything.”

  The boy went back to his father and said, “He needs shoes and a hat. He says he can’t come in and talk to you until he’s dressed right.”

  Then the boy came back with the shoes and the hat, and the man said, “Doctors charge by the minute, and I don’t even have a watch. You have to hold it in your hand to see how many minutes are passing. So what am I going to see if I’m not holding anything?” The boy went off to explain this to his father, and when he came back he put a watch in the man’s hands.

  The man said, “Now I’m just like the doctors. We work by the minute, you know.” He followed the boy into the sickroom and asked for an ear of corn and a cloth to spread out on the floor. A nice twelve-row ear was brought. He twisted it back and forth to shell the kernels from the cob, all the while speaking under his breath the way sorcerers do, and when he had a handful he threw it across the cloth. One of the kernels bounced to the edge of the bed where the patient lay. He lifted the blanket that hung down from the bed, and there was a toad. He pulled it out and killed it.