I recently spent the day with my aunt. While we had lunch, she recounted a legend from her childhood in El Salvador:

E: “Esta leyenda trata de la historia de una mujer llamada Sihuehet q tuvo un romance con el hijo del Dios Tlaloc, del cual resulto embarazada, pero como era una mujer muy vanidosa, esta descuidaba a su hijo El Cipitio quien tenia q comer cenizas porq ella no lo alimentaba. Fue por ello Tlaloc la maldijo por ser una mala madre y le dijo q ahora se llamaría Sihuanaba (mujer horrible), sería hermosa y atractiva a primera vista condenada a viajar por el campo. Se dice q se veía lavando ropa por las noches buscando a su hijo, al cual el Dios Tlaloc e concedió la juventud eterna como recompensa a su sufrimiento. La sihuanaba se encontraba a la orilla de ríos y quebradas, apareciéndosele a los hombres mujeriegos, trasnochadores, don juanes  y curiosos q se veian atraídos por su belleza lejana, pero cuando se acercaban a ella esta se convertia en un ser horrible con los pechos q le caían hasta el suelo, volviendo locos a los hombres. Cuentan q para no perder su alma, el hombre q la tiene cerca debe morder una cruz o una medallita y encomendarse a Dios, o estirar su mano y halarle el pelo para q ella se asuste y se tire a un barranco, de lo contrario enloquecían.”

Translation:

E: “This legend is about the story of a woman named Sihuehet who had a romance with the son of the god Tlaloc, which resulted in her impregnation, but since she was a very vain woman, she would often neglect her son, El Cipitio, who had to eat ash because she would not feed him. Because of her actions, Tlaloc cursed her for being a bad mother and told her that from now on she will be called Sihuanaba (horrible woman), she’d be beautiful and attractive at first sight, condemned to wander the camps. It is said that she is seen washing clothes at night while looking for her son, who the god Tlaloc granted eternal youth as a reward for his suffering. Sihuanaba can be found beside rivers and rapids, appearing to womanizers, night travelers, and curious farmers who are attracted to her beauty from far away, but when they get close to her she would horribly transform and her breast would sag to the floor, driving the men mad. They say that in order to not lose their soul, the man who has her close must bite down on a cross or medallion and turn themselves over completely to God, or stretch out their hand and pull on Sihuanaba’s hair so she can become afraid and throw herself into the ravine, otherwise the men will go mad.”

Collector Analysis:

The legend of La Sihuanaba is closely associated with rivers and ravines. Growing up with a river behind her house, my aunt remembers hearing this legend from her parents. My aunt vaguely recalls hearing the legend around her school, which also happened to be located near a river. My aunt said that this legend was her parents’ way of teaching her the importance of being selfless. She said she didn’t want to be vain like Sihuehet and she definitely wanted to be a better mother than Sihuehet.

The legend of La Sihuanaba is similar to that of La LLorona. However, I enjoyed hearing about La Sihuanaba more because it was so new to me and because it came from my parents’ home country. I found it fascinating how the legend affects men and women, equally. For men, the legend acts as a warning towards promiscuity. As for women, the legend warns against vanity and the neglecting of children.

At a family dinner, I asked my mom if she could tell me any folklore. She told me the following:

“When my mother was a child, the closest market to their home was half a day’s walk away. My mother’s mother would walk on her own to buy food for my mother and her sisters. One day, as she walked through the forest she felt a great heat. She began to sweat and sweat, until finally she felt it no more. The heat had disappeared. She leaned against a tree trying to cool down. The tree she was leaning on began to dry. The tree began to break apart and out came a ball of fire. My grandmother didn’t know that the ball of fire was the ‘Carbunco’ and anyone who threw a rag over it could capture it and take it home. Once home, if you were to throw needles, spoons, and coins into it the next morning appeared a lot of money. Instead, my grandmother decided to try and warm her porridge on the fire. As my grandmother approached the Carbunco, it lit up even more and flew around in the sky before flying off. My grandmother never saw it again.”

Collectors Analysis:

My mother heard this legend from my grandmother (her mother). My grandmother was raised in a less fortunate household and my great-grandmother probably told this story as a way to help her kids cope with the poverty. However, my great-grandmother did not simply make this legend up. My mother and her siblings all remember this legend, and continue to tell it in family settings because according to my great grandmother, she really experienced the Carbunco.

What I find interesting about the Carbunco is that a large majority of the less fortunate families in El Salvador probably had a similar story to my great-grandmother’s. I expect that the legends probably based on the neighborhood it is being told in and the location within El Salvador. I enjoyed most about this legend was with which the passion my mother delivered it. Whether she believes it or not, I do not know. All I do know was that this legend was one of my grandmother’s favorites.

I had lunch with a good friend on Sunday. During the lunch, he told me three legends. Here is the first:

“Kitimbwe Tamosolo was known to be a liar in the village. He used to say that he never used to poop. He would feast a lot but would never poop and everyone would stand back in awe and marvel at him. What he actually used to do was, he would go very far into the forest and there he dug a hole and then he would poop, covering up his excrement. Sometimes he would stitch his butt cheeks just so he would not poop. One day he went to poop in the forest and forget to cover the hole had pooped in, when he was done. And then eventually his poop made its away through the hole and followed behind him, into the village without his knowledge. When he got to the village center his poop started singing, “Kitimbwe Tamosolo Kitimbwe, you say you never poop but you do” to gather attention from the villagers. When everybody saw this they started laughing at Kitimbwe, he was so embarrassed he ran away.”

Collector Analysis:

My friend recalls hearing this legend from his grandmother, who helped raise him. He said that while his mother would scold him for lying, his grandmother would take a more humorous approach by telling this story. She told the same story to all of his older siblings which means that this legend was an integral part of his childhood. My friend understood that the moral of the story was to not tell a lie but what he takes away from the story now is the importance of not hiding your true self. He believes this legend is meant to provoke the question, “Who am I? And, should I be ashamed of myself?”

Out of all the legends I have collected this was by far the most eccentric. I enjoyed the humorous approach this legend undertook. The legend of Kitimbwe Tamosolo makes me wonder how open-minded the Congolese people are considering they are comfortable sharing a story about poop. I could not imagine anyone in my family sitting me down and sharing this story nor have I ever heard a story similar to this. That being said, I believe the legend does an incredible job of warning against lying which makes this legend meaningful, useful, and thought provoking.

I had lunch with a good friend on Sunday. During the lunch, he told me three legends. Here is the second:

“There was once a turtle that nobody liked. He was ugly and walked so slow, annoying everybody behind him and would take up space because of how large he was. The turtle was yelled, thrown mud and kicked at everyday. In the nighttime the turtle would ask the villagers for a place to spend the night. Thus, the turtle created a mud hut far in the forest to spend the night, no body knew that at night she turned into the most beautiful woman in the village. Nobody in the village knew that she could transform into a beautiful woman and kept the secret her entire life. In the morning, she would return to turtle form and would endure the same mistreatment as before. One day she asked for a place to spend the night and a castle guard felt pity for her and gave her a little room to spend the night. The room that she slept in just happened to be directly across from that of the prince’s. That night the prince decided to get fresh air, he stepped onto the balcony and saw the turtle transform into the beautiful woman. After the prince saw her they fell in love and married one another. Upon their marriage the curse was lifted and they lived happily ever after.”

Collector Analysis:

Before my friend told me the actual legend, he made sure to tell me that this was his favorite. He distinctly remembers how his mother would tuck him and his siblings into bed before she would tell ‘The Turtle and the Prince’. In a way, this legend was a way for my friend’s mother to help integrate Congolese culture with American culture. My friend expressed thinking about this legend whenever he missed home or reminisced about his childhood.

I understood exactly where my friend was coming from because I also hold old bedtime stories close to my heart. Bedtime stories are truly the best way to maintain a connection to the past, especially childhoods. My mom used to tell me a story very similar to Swan Lake. I found interesting parallels between the two legends. For example, both stories include a beautiful woman who transforms into an animal (turtle or swan) at night. In both stories, the curse is broken by a prince and everyone lives happily ever after. In a way, my friend and I grew up in completely different cultures but we were raised hearing very similar stories.