THE CORN LEGEND
Translated and
adapted by Amparo Jaramillo-Restrepo
The legend began among the Chibcha Indians, a native tribe who lived in
the center of Colombia South America, many years ago, before our
ancestors hadn’t learned to farm or tame animals. Their existence was a
simple one: they lived in straw houses or ‘chozas,’ and covered their
bodies with animal skins. They ate fruits and vegetables, fished or
hunted using rudimentary weapons like arrows, or stone-knives.
The head of one of
those families was Piraca, and he lived undisturbed with his wife and
two small children, a girl and a boy.
The mountains and
the transparent rivers of their countryside were rich in gold, and the
children competed among themselves looking for the gold beads. On top of
that, the father made long trips to get salt and some astonishing green
stones found inside secret caves, in a distant cordillera, not knowing
that someday those stones will become the Muzo Emeralds, some of the
most famous in the whole world.
But
suddenly, the gods turned their backs on the Chibcha tribe and the rain
escaped to the ocean, riding on back of the wind. The earth became so
dry that the trees couldn’t bear any fruit and the wild beasts came over
the grassland killing the small animals in their desperate search for
food.
Until
finally, one day, Piraca’s family had nothing to eat or furs to cover
their bodies, and even the soft colorful vegetal fibers the mother used
to weave baskets and hats, were difficult to find.
Indian
children were told not to cry. Thus, they never complained regardless of
hunger’s torment. However, brother and sister began to look like wilted
flowers until they didn’t have any energy to play in the forest or swim
in the nearby lagoon.
One morning,
while the couple found refuge near the fire where they were boiling some
roots, their daughter woke up with a placid look and
said: “I dreamed I was walking through a blue prairie
covered with stars.”
“Who cares about stars, sister”
answered her brother. “All I want now is some fruit to eat.”
“You know there aren’t any fruits left because the animals ate
everything. The poor beasts are as hungry as we are” his sister
responded.
“I went hunting in the forest yesterday, but I
couldn’t find even a rabbit,” said the father.
“Look, Piraca, our children are shivering
because the only blankets we have are full of holes” the mother cried.
“The gods
have abandoned us. Since the rain went away not even the rainbow shines
here, and the rivers and the lagoon are dying from thirst.”
“Later on I’ll go fishing with the children.
May be this time we’ll have better luck,” said the mother, trying to
cheer them up.
But
despite the fact that they got some small fish and a few vegetables
that morning, the next day found them still starving.
That’s
when Piraca and his wife decided in a moment of desperation to unearth
the clay pot where they kept their most precious treasure, the gold and
the emeralds gathered for a long time.
“I hope
that at least I’ll be able to trade them for salt, a few blankets and
maybe some dry fish,” said the father while he scattered the beautiful
beads on an animal skin. I will depart tomorrow to visit the market at
one of the valley’s villages.
“Bring me a nice blanket…, a necklace… and some
bracelets…,” begged the girl next day when Piraca was ready to leave.
“Stop day dreaming girl. All we need now is
some food,” said the mother embracing her.
“Be careful of the wild animals. Remember that
they too are hungry,” added the son before his father said goodbye.
The sun was
beginning to rise over the dry earth when Piraca took off. He had the
clay pot in one of his hands, and a backpack with a bow and some arrows
to protect him from the wild beasts.
It was a long, long trip, through the savanna first, and
the steep trails across the mountains later. His bare feet hurt a lot.
After he had walked for several days he felt so tired, that he decided
to rest under a tree and he fell asleep.
While Piraca
was sleeping two small rabbits that were crossing the countryside
looking for food came to the same spot. When they saw the man, the
oldest one who loved adventure said, “look! a sleeping man. Maybe he is
carrying some food.”
“Please,
don’t move, he is armed,” advised Shy Rabbit.
But there was no way to stop Curious Rabbit
who went directly to the clay pot. And when he found the gold and the
emerald beads, he said taking one on his hands, “they look like stones.”
Piraca in the meantime was beginning to move, so the rabbits
threw away the clay pot with its contents and ran away.
It was late in the day when Piraca awoke. The first thing
he did was to put on his backpack and look for the clay-pot. And when he
didn’t find it near him he panicked and the most terrible anguish took
hold of him.
“My gold and my
emeralds! Somebody stole them. I’m a dead man. What am I going to do?”
he cried.
He began pacing the earth back and forth around
him, until suddenly he had a gut feeling and knelt down to touch the
grass. There, hidden among some dried leaves he found a gold bead, and a
step further an emerald, then another gold bead, and so on... Until the
sun’s last rays shone over the earth and he saw like small stars
gleaming everywhere. And there it was… far away, his empty clay pot.
Tears, which
he had not shed since he was a frightened child, started to flow from
his eyes while he was kneeling down, lost in his sorrow in the midst of
the dying day.
“I have to recover my gold and my emeralds before the sun sets over the
mountains,” he thought gathering his last strength. “But I doubt I’ll be
able to find all of them.” He was peering through the grass while trying
to cover every piece of land with his hands, inch by inch.
Suddenly, the
sky opened above him and a magnificent double rainbow shone on top of
the mountains. Piraca’s whole body fell into a magic spell and his
worries disappeared. Just then, he heard a gentle voice calling him by
his name.
“Piraca, stop! Don’t pick up the gold and the
emeralds.”
Piraca turned around and he saw an old man
with a silver beard, dressed in a long white tunic.
“Who do you think you are giving me orders?”
“I’m Bochica, the god of your ancestors. The
one who saved your tribe from the flooding? Don’t you remember the
story?”
“Yes sir, but
the gold and the emeralds are all my treasure and without them my family
will starve,” said Piraca still kneeling down.
“Listen to
me, Piraca! This is my promise: Plant each one of the beads in a hole
and cover it with soil to protect them from the wind and the animals.
Leave them alone and come back after four moons. I promise you that
then, you’ll find a treasure more precious than the gold and the
emeralds, and your people won’t ever suffer from hunger again.”
Bochica
disappeared, but the rainbow stayed for awhile until night came over the
earth. Piraca slept like a baby and next day he felt happier than he had
ever been before. He planted the gold and the emeralds the way Bochica
told him, and as soon as he finished the planting the rain started to
come down. Its sound was so great that Piraca didn’t mind walking under
the fat raindrops all the way back home.
Piraca’s wife
didn’t believe god Bochica’s story, but Indian women were not supposed
to argue with their husbands. The earth was alive again with the
blessing of the rain, and even the tropical birds were coming back to
the forest to serenade the children with their melodious songs. Piraca
in the mean time counted the moon’s cycles with dents made on a tree.
When the day
finally came the whole family began their journey very early walking
through the savanna’s paths and the mountain trails, until they came to
the valley where Piraca had planted the gold and the emeralds.
“I don’t see any treasure,” cried the mother
disheartened.
“Are you sure this is the place father?” asked
the boy.
“Yes, I marked the place were Bochica
appeared with a big stone resting against a tree,” Piraca said while he
looked everywhere trying to find the promised treasure.
“See, that’s the tree! Let’s go
there.”
“Look,” called the girl, who had gone ahead of
them. “There is a new crop on the other side of the valley. Those are
some funny plants. I have never seen something like that before.”
Everybody ran there to see and touch the
beautiful, elegant plants, dancing in the wind. They had long, velvet,
emerald leaves and a strange fruit crowned by silky silver strands, like
the god Bochica’s beard.
“Let’s pick the fruit” suggested Piraca and
they all helped out.
And when they took the outside husks off, they
found a cone like fruit with golden grains, just like their gold beads.
“We’ll call it MAIZ (corn), the god’s present,
made from gold and emeralds,” suggested Piraca.
The legend adds that the god Bochica came back
for awhile to live among the Chibcha Indians and to teach them how to
farm and use the new crop. And the Chibchas were never hungry again.
Thousands of years went by. The new crop spread
rapidly throughout
The Americas, and in many countries corn became
the basic food, one which saved Indian people from starving on many
occasions.
And even in
our modern world, when we have such an abundance of food, the once
humble crop has become the king. And we use it almost every day in
different forms: empanadas, arepas, tortillas, tamales, tacos,
enchiladas, corn bread, burritos and of course, popcorn, everybody’s
favorite.
That’s why we can proclaim as the Chibcha
Indians did, that corn is really a god sent present.
Norwalk, February 9th.
2000.
