The following is taken from an interview between me and my friend, Javier, who is from Nicaragua. We were sitting in the lobby of the Caruso Catholic Center. He decided to tell me about a certain piece of Nicaraguan legend. By the way he described it, I’m pretty sure this is a legend, though he referred to it as a tale.

Javier: “Um, this tale that I know of, it’s called ‘La Carreta Nagua’, which is, um– which translates to ‘The Carriage of Nagua’. Um, basically it’s like this, um… carriage that is, um… being pulled by two horses, but the two horses are just, like, their bones. So, they’re not, like, actual horses. And then, on top of it, um.. it’s, uh… the figure of Death carrying a… (gesturing chopping motion)… carrying… the axe?”

Me: “Scythe?”

Javier: “The scythe…?”

(We both laugh for a bit)

Javier: “Carrying it… yeah. And, basically, um, it just comes at night, and… it is– it is, like… it’s said that, um, it shows up… whenever someone is close, like, to death, or just to, like… um, bring people to– to death.”

Me: “So, where did you first hear this from?”

Javier: “Um, definitely just, like, tales from my mom and my dad that would just… they would tell me some legends or like, um… or, like, stories that are, like, yeah– that are from… home, Nicaragua. Yeah.”

Me: “And do you know if this was… just confined to Nicaragua, or if it spread out to other regions?”

Javier: “Uh, I’m not really sure. Um, I do think there is, like, very… specific from Nicaraguan, um… definitely, uh… yeah. Definitely something…yeah, I’ve never heard it from, like, other cultures or so. So yeah, just from home.”

I actually ended up hearing this same legend from multiple people after I had already collected it from Javier, so it reminded me of how prevalent the idea of death is in Hispanic cultures, especially with all there is done with the Day of the Dead ceremony.

The following is taken from an interview between me and my friend, Javier, who is from Nicaragua. We were sitting in the lobby of the Caruso Catholic Center. He decided to tell me about a certain piece of Nicaraguan legend.

Javier: “Um, this one that I know is called ‘La Tetona’, which basically means…(laughs)…a lady who has big boobs. Um, this one basically, um… is like– it’s just like a very old tale which just, um… just explains how, like, when the conquerors came to Nicaragua or something there was this… this was this, um, lady who was just, like, living by herself or something, and then, um… she would just, um, want to, like, get money from like the rich conquerors or so, and so she– she would be like very, um… very provocative with the rich, um, like, conquerors and stuff and then she… yeah she– she had like… big…boobs, uh, so, (laughs) she, uh, but that was the way how she would, like, um… like, uh, bring, like, uh– the conquerors attention and then she would…yeah, steal their money.”

Me: “Who first told you about this one?”

Javier: “Uh, yeah, this was not my parents, definitely. This was, uh, a friend from, like, school, like we were in Spanish class or something and then we were just discussing some tales and then he came up with this one.”

I thought it was really interesting how the idea of the femme fatale in this lady living by herself who uses her feminine wiles to her benefit made its way into this legend. It was also hilarious to see the struggle by which a Catholic man tells a story about a woman with large breasts.

The following is an interview between me and my friend, Edgar, while he was practicing piano over at the Caruso Catholic Center. He told me about a legend he knew from Nicaragua.

Edgar: “Okay, so it’s called ‘La toma tu teta’, and that’s literally– people in the country of Nicaragua believe that there is this woman walking around  who lost her child… in the river. a river nearby wherever the rumor started, right. So they believe in this woman whois just walking the streets and she is just yelling, ‘Toma tu teta! Toma tu teta!’ and crying and wailing and all that. And the reason why she is doing that is because if you translate ‘toma tu teta’ to English, it literally means, like, “Here is your breast.” So she is calling to the kid and saying ,like, right? ‘Come, I’m gonna feed you… so here is your breast’…breast, right? Like, here is, like, your boob (laughs). So, uh, I don’t know why people are scared of her. I don’t know if she’s actually like… ‘killed’ anyone, you know quote on quote, but, that’s like one of the myths that is in Nicaragua. There’s this one woman that walks around, like, saying this because she lost her child.”

Me: “Do you happen to remember, like, who or where you first heard this from?”

Edgar: “Um… in school.”

Me: “Like, elementary school?”

Edgar: “Yeah. Yeah, probably. It’s just that we have– we have, like, a whole, like, myths and legends that everyone from Nicaragua knows. And that– this would be one of them. And it’s actually pretty funny because, if you go to Nicaragua, and if you go to, like, the markets there, they sell these, like, mugs that are literally in the shape of a boob.”

Me: “Oh yeah! I’ve seen those.”

Edgar: “You’ve seen those, right? Yeah, so in Nicaragua they do it because of that… and also because we’re a little obscene… sometimes. (laughs) It’s bad, but they also refer to that myth.”

The thing about this I found the most interesting is the same thing Edgar was wondering about, of why exactly people are afraid of this legend. there is something very scary just about the idea of a woman losing her child, and what becomes of her psyche when that happens, but still, as Edgar said, it’s not like she’s known for killing anyone. So, perhaps it is just the disturbing tone of her backstory that scares people.

The following is from an interview between me and my friend, Nina, during her lunch break in the upstairs office of the Caruso Catholic Center. She shared with me a legend that she knew from Texas.

Nina: “Okay, so, when I was younger, everyone always told me about the screaming bridge, in Texas. Um, it’s in Decatur, I think, and basically… there was a group of high school students who were traveling for a sporting event– I think it was cheerleaders– um, and they were… I don’t know if they were going to or from the city, but basically they were on this bridge, it was stormy, and I guess they, like, saw something– the bus driver saw something in the middle of the road, and so it swerved off, and they fell off the bridge… and, like, everyone died. And now, if you go back there, some people say that they can, like, hear the cheerleaders, like, on the bridge, like, screaming as they were falling to their death.”

Me: “Oh geez. Have you ever been there?”

Nina: “Um, no I haven’t. But, I’ve heard about it. But, like, I probably wouldn’t go, just ‘cuz I get freaked out by that kind of stuff– but… yeah, it’s a true story.”

Me: “Are you from Texas, or…?”

Nina: “Yes. I’m from Texas. So it’s probably… like, that bridge is probably like an hour and a half from my house. But, like, I never ventured over there. But, see, I don’t think… because that kind of goes into– it’s like a very rural area, so it’s, like, not necessarily like a well-traveled… um… spot.”

Me: “And who did you, like, first hear that from?”

Nina: “I had heard it from my friends in high school. (laughs) Yeah, those were the stories we would tell when we were, like– when we were also in high school and, like, traveling to different things: the story of the screaming girl on the bridge.”

It must’ve felt very odd to consider yourself living in such close proximity to a haunted location growing up. This story reminded me of something my mom told me about a small bridge on which you could supposedly hear singing as you passed over it. Not quite as grim as the screaming bridge but definitely in the same vein.

The following is from an interview between me and the Deacon, Paul Pesqueira, over at the Caruso Catholic Center. He was on his lunch break along with a few others. He told me about a legend which his dad used to tell him during his scandalous days.

Paul: “My dad used to tell us, when we started drinking at 17, 18, 19 years old– I know you’re not supposed to drink ’til you’re 21, but, you know, we’d drink earlier– that you had to be careful… because if you got drunk, that– and you passed out, that “The Careterro” would come and get you. And he would put you in the wheelbarrow and he’d take you away. So, you better be able to hold your liquor and not get drunk and pass out, because if you did, The Carreterro would come and put you in his wheelbarrow, and you didn’t know what would happen to you.”

Me: “Did you ever get– get caught?… By The– by The Carreterro?”

Paul: “I got drunk and I passed out but The Carreterro never got me.”

Me: “Oh, you got lucky!”

(We laughed)

Paul: “So that’s my story.”

It was interesting to think about whether such a tale actually had any impact on the kids whom it was told to, seeing as they were already in doubtful years at that point. Also, as a little bonus piece of folklore, Deacon Paul was pronouncing “wheelbarrow” like “wheelbarrel”. I know I used to do that all the time.