STORIES AND LEGENDS OF SANTA CRUZ

THE GUAJOJO

Deep in the jungle and when the night has closed completely, a
sound of long fear, sharp, vibrating, shocking is usually suddenly
heard. One would say a cry, or rather a prolonged moan, which
raises the tone and intensity and slowly turns off as the vibration of
a string turns off.
It is said that there have been
people who were left with
reason in diminishing and
who have lost their reason.
This is how the legend says:
Once upon a time there was
a girl, as beautiful as she was
elegant. She was the
daughter of the head of a
tribe that lived in a clearing of the jungle. She loved and was loved
by a young man from the same tribe who was handsome and
brave, but perhaps she had a more tender heart than a warrior
should have. When the old cacique, who was also a gifted
magician, learned of this affair, he did not consider the young man
worthy of his daughter and decided to end the romance in the
simplest and fastest way. He called his lover and, with the help of
his magical arts, led him to the thicket, where he deliberately killed
him. After the long absence of her beloved, the girl began to be
suspicious and went to look for him in the jungle. Returning home
with the painful evidence of his death, he sobbed and yelled at his
father, threatening to tell people about the crime. The old sorcerer
instantly turned her into a night bird so that no one knew what had
happened. But the voice of the unfortunate woman went down the
bird's throat, and through her she lamented incessantly for the
death of her beloved. Since then, the guajojó is driven away from
populated places because when he sings people actually believe
that he mourns the death of his beloved and attracts new
lamentations and the evil spirits of the sorcerers who broke with
their union of true love.
Thus, families escape from the presence of the bird, sure that if it
perches in a house, they will be destined to failure, death or bad
luck in any sense of their lives.
 THE ELF

The story begins with a family who decide to move to live far from
the city in the middle of some bushes, this couple had two children,
one rainy night their youngest son of about 5 years old fell very ill
and not being able to go to the city for a doctor the boy died and
without being baptized, it is said that the spirit of this child is the
one who appears to him and pursues the infants, his story was
widely popularized by the parents of the area of that time, who
sought to frighten their children to keep them in Home, it is said
that this being entertains himself with the other children pretending
to be a normal child hiding his identity with a white dress and a
huge sao hat to then attract them to bushes with colored candies
and fruits, it is said
that those children
who did not want to
play with him, you
tied them and hurt
them and left his hair
simbado, with the
passage of time he
was known as the
ELF to that tiny being
who with whistles,
sweets and fruits
attracted the children
 THE SILVACO

It all began in a remote town

that is not known for sure
where it is located exactly, a
small community where the
peasants say that a cheerful
and hardworking boy, always
diligent with others, had
inherited the trade of
woodcutter. The wood was
transported on the back of a
donkey for sale in the
villages closest to his
community; Pedro, who was
called that, had the habit of whistling while walking or working, he
was distracted whistling to forget about time or to shorten the
distance, sometimes, he mitigated some sorrow with the melodies
he produced through his whistle; he whistled hopelessly in his
sorrows and joys, but he always whistled.
It is said that one day he met a girl from his community, with whom
he fell madly in love, love that was fully reciprocated. Pedro liked
to offer him serenades with songs of his own inspiration, or simply,
when he returned from his work day, he woke her up at night with
his unmistakable powerful whistle and impossible not to recognize.
They had a son and Pedro decided to baptize him on his own,
since then a curse would have been fulfilled and he was punished.
Pedro had lost weight quickly and noticeably to such an extent that
his pallor was notorious, he gave the impression that his eyes had
increased in size, his shoulders had fallen, his hands reached
below his knees in a totally disproportionate way. At lunchtime it
wasn't filled with anything, two cooked chickens and a large pot of
food was not enough. He spent his time eating and chewing
everything he found in his path with an insatiable hunger.
All this happened until one day he wanted to end his family's life
and then with the help of the village priest he was loved and
burned. It is said that the unfortunate woodcutter transformed into
a small and fragile white avec, fluttered around the bonfire, took
flight and got lost in the night emitting a thin whistle, long, deep,
penetrating, electrifying.
Since then they say that
imitating him, when you hear a
long whistle, is exposing
yourself to being mute,
stuttering or exposing your life
due to a heart attack.
Sometimes when you hear him
whistle very close it is to stay
still, persign himself or
respectfully say to him in a low
voice: - Pedro, Maria is not
around here.
This spirit, being imitated, proceeds to aggressively pursue the
person who imitates him, making his whistle hear closer and
closer.
The clearest sign that the spirit is in your neighborhood is a
characteristic noise of bones that collide uses with others, it is
believed that he carries them in a sack, hanging on his shoulder.
By the time you start to hear the "crac-crac", maybe it's too late.
 THE WIDOW

They say they say... that a beautiful young woman, in one of her
incursions into the forest in search of wild fruits, met a young man
of unknown origin and of heavenly purity.
It was such a commotion of both
that they were soon living together.
They had a mystical love, where
there was only platonic love, they
spent the hours singing delicious
passionate songs, for them there
was only platonic love, they had an
ideal love that could never turn into
fire, they did not need the pleasure
of the flesh, it was an intimate and
delicious idyll, totally pure.
They used to travel from the shores of the silent slopes to the
shadows of the aromos and the tiled flowers of the jungle, drank
the nectar of the flowers and delighted in the trill of the birds or
with the beautiful echo of their voices repeated countless times,
with discovering the fragrant flowers curdled with dew of this or
that tree or listening to the voices of each of the species of the
forest.
With the running of the moons, the seasons passed and with the
winter the knight became melancholic and thoughtful, from his
throat the sweet melodies that decorated his voice stopped
sprouting, a dark shadow began to cloud his transparent eyes and
one afternoon spring arrived, while both lying on a rock, they
admired the shapes of the clouds that danced to the majestic sun
that invited them to a peaceful nap, everything changed.
Suddenly, the mysterious young man perceived a note that
penetrated his ears, it was a celestial music that brought warm air
to know since the end he had come out, but it was evident that that
sound had altered the spirit of the young people. She, suddenly
had entered a sleepy sly and he felt him enter his body and then
slide through his bloodstream and then penetrate each visor, until
he transformed it into a beautiful bird with painted and shiny
feathers. Then, he flew quickly to where
the wonderful music seemed to sprout.
Upon awakening, the young virginal of
her lethargy, seeing herself, let out a
loud scream of stupor, cried and cried
desperately, traveled hills, valleys,
rivers and plains, always desperate,
crazy with sadness, calling him,
screaming and giving ayes of pain but
with no other response than the echo
repeating, almost mockingly, the
message of her own stupid and useless
voice, shouting the complaining call, imploring, begging the Earth
until she felt faint.
Without further ado, he felt his voice go out and that his flesh was
diluted perfuming the atmosphere with a soft aroma of roses, then
he let himself fall on a bed of multicolored flowers, but it was no
longer her....
His fragile body had been transformed into a dark silhouette spirit
as a symbol of perpetual farewell, a mourned ribbon.
From that moment, the widow wanders from one place to another
looking for her beloved eternally.

THE CURIOUS

Once upon a time there was a weaver who got up every night to
knit. Suddenly one night she
heard something as if a
procession had passed. She
looked out the window and
suddenly a man stood in front
of her window and asked her to
keep two candles and that
tomorrow he would pick them
up again. She then tells him
that yes, she could keep them
for him.
The next day she tells her friend that a man had appeared to her
and that she asked her to keep two candles. The friend tells him to
take the candles to a father so he can see them. When he sees
the candles, the father tells him that he is not a real man, he is a
goblin.
She then asks him what he should do when the goblin picks up his
candles again. The father said that he would have to take his baby
with her, and to pinch the baby to make him cry.
When it was dark she waited for them to knock on her door and
when she was about to fall asleep, the goblin knocked on the door.
She picked up her baby and took him with her to answer the door.
When he opened the door, he pinched the baby and the baby
cried.
When he opens the door with the baby crying, the goblin tells him
"thank you that your baby is crying because if not, I would take you
 THE CART OF THE AFTERLIFE

The legend "The cart of the afterlife" arose from a disease that
struck Santa Cruz: Smallpox killed thousands of citizens and was
so feared that just naming it caused fear among women and men
at the end of the 19th century.
The "Carretón de la otra vida" was a carriage pulled by oxen that
transported the dying and unfortunate from the grounds of the
Jesús Nazareno chapel to the outskirts of the city.
In its path, the crunchy wheels and the moans of the sick bristled
the skin of those who dared to stay awake or prowling the streets
of the city. As time went by, some witnesses say he had seen it, he
appeared after midnight in surazo time. The cart was the same
devil and the cart was built with human bones instead of wood, its
cargo being hundreds of yellowish skulls. The frightful cry of the
trucker was heard throughout the pampas and on the outskirts of
the town. The oxen that threw the cart, instead of eyes, had a
couple of embers that flashed with an intense red. On stormy
nights no one went out for fear of meeting the cart of the afterlife
and its diabolical companion.
 HISTORY OF THE NORTHERN TOWN

The story tells that in a

northern village there
lived a very humble
family, which decided to
go to live further from a
community called "12 de
Octubre". This family
was made up of Mrs.
Jacinta the mother, Don
Federico the father, José
the youngest son and Juan the eldest son.
They lived very happy and calm, but as everywhere there was no
lack of curses that are lending to the weakest.
One morning Don Federico had gone to his chaco; while Doña
Jacinta had been making cuñapé and rice bread for breakfast,
suddenly she sees her little son fainting at the bathroom door, she
ran quickly and helped him. At night she tells what happened to
her husband, he didn't care about it. A few
days later, the boy fell very ill. One of the
many nights, everyone had gone to sleep
because they had a very tiring day, everyone
slept heavy, the next morning when she went
to see her son she found him dead, she with
a lot of pain shouted: No, no, no! My son, not
my God!
Months passed and Jacinta still remembered
that tragic loss, one afternoon she was resting
in her hammock in the middle of two Mango
trees, when suddenly she sees A boy from the mountain dressed
in white, approached little by little, great was his surprise when he
looked at the boy who had the face of his little José.
She was very happy to talk to him thinking that he was her son; but
he told him that he was THE DUENDE after suddenly he
disappeared...
So it was that his little son became the best-known legend: THE
DUENDE, but the story of this family does not end here, it still
continues...
Don Federico and Doña Jacinta decided to return to live in the
center of the town with their son Juan; they planned to unite their
lives before God, that is, to get married, on the expected day, the
wedding of Jacinta who went to church to wait for her beloved.
Meanwhile, the brand new boyfriend was on his way to the church
when he looked at the bushes and sees a child dressed in white,
next to the depths of the bushes and he never came out; that is,
the goblin killed him.
Minutes later the tragic news
reached Jacinta's ears, she burst
into tears, she couldn't believe
that her beloved had died.
Jacinta, unable to endure
another loss, decided to dress in
black completely and swore
never to take the mourning, she
stopped locked up and remained like this for a long time, but the
pain and suffering ended her. Since his death, his soul travels
through the streets of the town with a loud cry saying: why, why,
why! Since then it has been known as LA VIUDITA. But, we still
need to know the fate of a member of that family, Juan.
Juan became a young mariachi who loved to go out with his guitar
to give serenades; he had fallen in love with a beautiful lady from
Saavedreña named Luisa, but the father of the young woman, Mr.
Rómulo, didn't want Juan a little.
Don Rómulo known as Tatusi was a well-known sorcerer in the
village, he planned to get rid of the young suitor.
One night Juan was going to his house after having serenaded his
beloved, he took the darkest road, since he used to say that he
was very brave, during the way he sensed that someone was
chasing him, he overturned all the time but he was no one; arriving
at a bridge he sees a lady dressed in black crying, he approaches
and asks her why she cried, great was the scare when the woman
looked at him and said: you are only missing your son of mine!
That woman was his mother LA VIUDITA Juan ran and climbed an
orange tree and began to throw fruit on the widow, while Don
Rómulo began with his spell to turn him into a bird; suddenly Juan
felt something very strange in his body, he fell from the tree, his
eyes sprouted and white feathers and plumes began to appear in
his arms, he wanted to scream but that scream became a very
sharp, dark and lonely song.
That bird today is known as EL
GUAJOJÓ Although years,
decades and centuries pass,
this family will remain together...
of course each one with their
TRUE LEGENDS That today
will always be remembered by
our beloved northern people
Today, the goblin, widow, the guajojo
and the other beings do not dare to
appear here because the noise of
modernity ran them to azuzaqui
Traducido por Paulo Cesar Salvatierra