Category Archives: Legends

Narratives about belief.

Trip to find Sasquatch

Nationality: American
Age: 20
Occupation: Student
Residence: Palo Alto, Ca
Performance Date: 4/19/2017
Primary Language: English

Informant:

Rowan is a sophomore double majoring in Math and economics. He is from the Bay area.

Piece:

So i’m really interested in Sasquatch. The plural of a Sasquatch is just Sasquatch. Not sasquatches which everyone says and it always bugs me. So a lot of people believe that there are Sasquatch that live in the pacific northwest. And I have cousins from Idaho and we are spending a week hiking around Washington trying to find him and after that end our trip at the Sasquatch music festival on memorial day.

Collector: Do you believe sasquatch exists?

Informant: 100%. For sure. Sasquatch are out there, they are just really good at hiding. There have actually been a lot of sightings of sasquatch up there and we are pretty confident that we will see one.

 

Collector’s thoughts:

I find it interesting that an informant who studies extremely quantitative, fact based subjects in university, is interested in finding sasquatch. The informant was adamant about his belief in sasquatch in his words, but his tone suggested otherwise. Additionally, upon researching further I found the Sasquatch music festival to be a yearly sasquatch themed music festival that occurs each year in washington.

 

Irish Poem

Nationality: Irish American
Age: 57
Occupation: Dentist
Residence: San Carlos, CA
Performance Date: 4/6/2017
Primary Language: English

Informant:

Terry is a second generation Irish american who grew up in los Angeles in the ‘60s and 70’s. He is now a dentist working and living in the Bay area.

Piece:

Informant: “There is this poem that my uncle told me back in 1970 when I was 10 years old. My parents sent me to Ireland to live with my cousins for the whole summer. I had never met any of these people before, but knew them through the stories my dad told me about all of them. But one night my uncle Paddy drove me to the Bridge at King John’s Castle in limerick… you know the one we’ve been to before. And he told me that this bridge was where the Banshee would come out late at night if you were walking alone. And then out of nowhere he started rattling off this old irish poem about the banshee called “Drunken Thady and the Bishop’s Lady” and it was a long long poem that took about twenty minutes to say. I was amazed that he had remembered all of it and then we got back in the care and drove back to the house in Janesboro. Then the rest of the summer I tried to memorize the poem just by hearing it over and over so I could tell my dad when I got back home to Los Angeles, but I was never able to remember the entire thing.

Collector: Do you remember any of the poem?

Informant: ughhh oh boy lets see

Before the famed year Ninety-eight,

In blood stamped Ireland’s wayward fate;

When laws of death and transportation

Were served, like banquets, throughout the nation

But let it pass the tale I dwell on

Has not to do with red rebellion.

 

Uhhhhh and then there is another part at some point that goes

 

There lived and died in Limerick City,

a dame of fame oh what a pity

that dames of fame should live and die

and never learn for what, or why!

That’s all I can remember.

 

 

Collector’s thoughts:

I find it amazing that the informant could remember even the slightest bit of this poem despite having half learned it more than 40 years ago. Being sent at such a young age to stay with Irish relatives reveals how, despite living in the US, his parents and family still valued their Irish heritage and culture. For a full version of the poem see:

http://www.limerickcity.ie/media/drunken%20thady.pdf

Leyenda de la Pata Sola

Nationality: Dual Citizen: Colombia and United States
Age: 48
Occupation: Internal Medicine
Residence: Tampa, Florida
Performance Date: April, 19th 2017
Primary Language: Spanish
Language: English

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A Latin American Legend of the Single-Footed Woman as told by a Colombian Immigrant from the city of Bogotá. 

“La Pata Sola era una mujer hermosa que jugaba con los hombres y su esposo le corto una pierna.  Ella escapó a la selva y la mujer juro vengarse de los hombres. Aparece en las noches cantando una voz celestial  que cautiva a los hombres jóvenes y viejos.  A veces grita pidiendo ayuda para que vengar a salvarla y los atrapa. Les saca la sangre y se esconde en la selva. Atrapa a los hombres y los desaparecen.”

 

The Single Footed woman was beautiful and she cheated on her husband, so he cut her leg off. She escaped into the jungle and swore revenge against all men. She appears in the nighttime, singing with a celestial timbre that captivates men, old and young alike. Sometimes, she screams for help so they come to save her. That’s when she traps them. She sucks out their blood and then she heads back into the jungle too hide. She traps men and they disappear.

-told by Ines Elvira Ortiz, during a meal.

Ines grew up hearing stories about la Pata Sola in Colombia. The above story is the version she remembers most clearly.

My thoughts: I find it interesting that Latin American legends often involve scorned women with vengeful and succubus like tendencies. I guess it could be viewed as a misogynistic trope but I could be wrong and it could be out of reverence for the powerful alpha female.

 

The Bunny Man Bridge-Virginia

Nationality: American, United States
Age: 21
Occupation: Student
Residence: Virginia
Performance Date: April 20th, 2017
Primary Language: English

 

 

 

 

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FAIRFAX COUNTY, VA-

“In 1970, there was a guy who was either in prison or in some kind of asylum. They’re being transported on a bus over the bridge, and one prisoner dressed in a bunny costume escaped, because the bus crashed. The bridge was covered in rabbit carcasses and strung up half-eaten bunnies, after the man escaped the crash. He would allegedly kill teenagers who went on the bridge , hacking them to death with a  hatchet. It’s a tradition to go onto the bridge to take pictures and find the bunny man. His hatchet is in a local museum.”

-Savannah Hemmig, performed during Screenwriting class.

Hemmig’s sister told her this story when she was a preteen. Hemmig feels connected to the story because it reminds her of home, a funny coming of age tradition not unlike children who pay Bloody Mary.

 

Devil on the Roof

Nationality: Colombian American
Age: 52
Occupation: Doctor
Residence: Tampa Florida
Performance Date: April 25th 2017
Primary Language: Spanish
Language: English, Portugese

“Aún tengo vívidos recuerdos de los cuentos de terror que oí durante mi infancia.  Yo tendría en ese momento unos 7 años y mi hermano Mauricio, 6.  Vivíamos en la casa de mi abuela materna, una casona colonial de 250 años en un pueblo al norte de Bogotá llamado San Gil.  La casa tenía un patio sevillano que en el momento parecía enorme.  Las puertas de los cuartos daban hacia el patio y tenían cerraduras antiguas que cuando la luna estaba llena dejaban entrar un haz de luz de luna que se movía por el cuarto a medida que pasaba el tiempo.  La decoración eran su mayoría art deco, o imitación de ello, con algunos muebles del período colonial español.  En la noche, los cuartos eran tan oscuros que no se podía ver la propia mano al ponerla enfrente de la cara.  Mi abuela tenía una sirvienta joven, campesina, un poco regordeta con cabellos negros y la cara siempre sonriente.  Se llamaba Graciela.    Nos trataba con melosería cuando la abuela estaba mirando, pero cuando la abuela estaba ausente se tornaba desdeñosa y un poco altanera.  Ella fue la que nos contó nuestros primeros cuentos de miedo.  Recuerdo que una noche luego de haber cenado, mis abuelos se habían ido a dormir y mi hermano, mi tío Sergio, dos años mayor que yo, y yo, estábamos haciendo sobremesa en el comedor.  Llegó a la mesa Graciela a retirar platos y limpiar migas del mantel.  Al vernos hablando entre risas nos dijo muy seria -En algunas noches, sobre el techo de esta casa, camina el Diablo.  Se le reconoce porque llega cerca a la media noche buscando almas y da tres silbidos largos que se oyen por toda la casa.-
Luego de decir eso una sonrisa macabra se dibujó sobre su rostro y se fue para la cocina.  A partir de ese momento, mi hermano y yo quedamos aterrorizados.  Varias noches oímos los fatídicos 3 silbidos y nos daba pavor inclusive entrar al baño.  Era tanto el medio que decidimos tener una bacinilla bajo la cama para poder orinar sin tener que salir del cuarto con tal de no tener que salir del cuarto.  Nos tomó mucho tiempo convencernos de que en realidad no era el diablo sino una treta pesada de la sirvienta.  Todavía hoy hablamos mi hermano y yo de las noches que pasamos en vela, rezando para que el diablo no reclamara nuestras almas.”

 

Carlos Silva grew up in Colombia, many of the legends he heard were about the devil. Since Catholicism is so prevalent in Colombia, demonic symbols recur in many childhood fears and memorates.