The Mysteries of Cerro Musún

     Among the park rangers of Musún, you might encounter Miguel del Socorro Jarquín Artola, a tall young man with a dark complexion and slender build, who shares fantastic stories from the Natural Reserve where he was born and grew up as a natural predator of wildlife, until he became one of its most dedicated protectors.

"One time, on that hill, I was with my dad, one of my brothers, and two uncles, and we had many dogs. We were going to hunt armadillos, agoutis, or whatever we could find. It was late afternoon in winter," says Socorro.

As is typical during winter, dense fog covered the mountains. Socorro and his father, also named Socorro, along with his brother Francisco and his uncles Ubencio Martínez and Facundo Guzmán, continued searching for animals to hunt.

The young park ranger adds, "We were still on the hill and suddenly, we saw that the place cleared up. The cloud lifted, and it was clear. Then we saw some freshly made paths, some houses, chickens, and that worried us because we knew that didn't exist. We tried to find a way out, but we kept going in circles in the same place and never got out. We were lost in the same spot."

According to Socorro's account, it was then that his uncle Ubencio rebuked them: "This is something one of us is carrying, because otherwise, we would have already gotten out." 

"I have some wild hen eggs that I picked up along the way," responded Francisco, Socorro's brother.

"Then throw them away because if not, we're going to stay lost," warned Don Ubencio. Socorro continues with his story: "When my brother threw away the eggs, we then managed to find our own tracks and could get out of the place. Afterward, we went to check what we had seen and couldn't see anything again. We realized that what we had seen didn't exist and it was because of the cursed wild hen eggs my brother was carrying. It was like an enchanted place to ensure no one took anything away."

Unveiling the Beauties of Cerro Musún (Fragment) Written by Luis Eduardo Martínez M May 2, 2004 / La Prensa Mosaico

La Taconuda (The ghost of the woman with high heels)

     The municipality of El Crucero in Managua is not only known for its favorable climate, its ceramics, and for being one of the most important coffee-producing areas in Nicaragua. It is also known for the stories that arise from the narrations and experiences of its inhabitants. In addition to its "ceguas" (mythical creatures), witches, and mysterious haunted houses, this area is famous because it harbors one of the most famous and feared apparitions of the place: La Taconuda.

    According to Ninoska Chacón (El Nuevo Diario), this evil spirit, who could well be the protagonist of any horror book, is a "bony, stinking, and chilling mockery of a woman who was said to have tragically died at the hands of a family member 150 years ago, and has since then terrorized coffee pickers." On the other hand, Eduardo Manfut tells us that La Taconuda "is a woman 7 feet tall, young, with long hair reaching to her calves, slender, wearing high and curved heels, with a dry face, deep eyes, pronounced painted lips, and smiling, black shawl, perky busts, white dress with a silver sash and a large square buckle, and a golden headband... when she passed by, she left a strong aroma of perfume and that's how they identified her, but she didn't take every man with her."

    This dreadful apparition with a woman's body appears among the Nicaraguan coffee fields, taking advantage of the shadows of the cool nights in this region. It is not known exactly what she looks like; the only thing accurately commented on is the terror she causes to those unlucky enough to be chosen by her. After hearing her macabre laughter among the coffee fields, some man or foreman from a farm mysteriously disappears, and the next morning he wakes up dazed, completely mute, naked, or worse still, dead with a look of terror fixed in his lost gaze.

The Herd of Mares from Comalapa

 "A legend that every inhabitant knows and affirms is not a tale but the truth, is that at the beginning of the last century, from the Cerro de La Cruz, located in front of the town, a herd of mares in heat would come down to neigh in the square, located in front of the old church.

It is said that they were the witches of the San Francisco community who came to meet their lovers.

But one day, the parish priest of the town went up with a group of parishioners to place three crosses at the top of the hill to calm the beasts. Since then, the mares no longer come down to the town, although some night owls claim that they sometimes hear the neighing of the famous fillies in the distance."

Fragment from "Comalapa, pueblo de leyendas y personajes" Orlando Valenzuela - La Prensa

Zipes

   Another character known to the farmers of our land is the mischievous zipe (zee-pay). These curious dwarfs are characterized by their sideways feet, pot-bellied appearance, and an insatiable fondness for girls and beautiful women from the villages. It's rumored that zipes lurk around cornfields, scheming ways to abscond with women, leaving them stranded in the jungle once they've achieved their aim.

    Rural women also allege that zipes snatch unbaptized babies, purposefully misplace them, as Wilfredo Alvarez mentioned in his intriguing tale of the origins of Loma del Zipe in Chinandega. Some men attempt to ensnare these dwarfs, intending to exploit them for labor while they themselves take a break. However, capturing zipes is no easy feat. According to previous attempts, zipes are exceedingly cunning and deceitful. Once in the service of a new captor, one must remain vigilant, for if the zipe is left unattended, he may vanish, along with the captor's wife.

Legends of Ocotal

    They say that Don Jorge Calderón Gutiérrez, poet, musician, pianist, teacher, and mining expert, is the man with the best memory in Ocotal. At over 75 years of age or "75 well-smoked packages" as he says, his history lessons and stories are full of the magic that only experience can provide. I believe there is no one better than him to learn a bit about the traditions of that beautiful department of our country.

    "My maternal grandmother told me some (legends), but I learned most of them from the servants. They said that La Sucia (The "dirty one") would appear by the river, she was a gigantic and bony woman with long hair, who would repeatedly say in a screeching voice: 'Take your teat, take your teat.' Because of that horrible woman, we kids wouldn’t bathe there after five in the afternoon. They also said that the red imp and the green imp would appear, though neither ever appeared to me, but they did to other people, and they still do. These visions will never leave our people in peace, as they arise from a cultural phenomenon. Another pair of ghosts were the black Cadejo and the white Cadejo. The black one was evil, the white one was not. 'When the evil one appears,' they told me, 'you have to give him the right side of the path.' But neither La Sucia nor La Mocuana ever appeared to me, nor did the Enchanted Stone of Orosí tie up my beast. They said that in Orosí there was an enchanted stone, and at night, an invisible being would tie the legs of the beasts passing by with invisible threads, leaving them stuck. But I passed through Orosí many times and also through Intelí where they said Diego Izquierdo would appear... and nothing.

    Diego Izquierdo was a restless spirit that appeared as a light at night to lead people astray. I used to spend my vacations in Santa Bárbara, near Jalapa, and also visit a friend. It was a nine-hour journey on a good horse, and I passed countless times through the plain and never encountered the famous Izquierdo. The thing is, I was sent to study at the Pedagogical Institute in Diriamba as a child, a five-day journey. We had to travel by horse to Condega, then to Estelí, later to El Sauce, from there by train to León, then another day to Managua, and another by train to Diriamba. The teaching at the Pedagogical Institute was very good, I remember studying philosophy, sociology, economics, astronomy, Greek and Latin roots, very good French and English. The teachers were progressive, I remember priests Esteban and Manuelino who taught me that those apparitions don't exist, not even the devil exists. But those legends were beautiful and became part of charming folklore. At night, since there was no electric light, we lit bonfires in the street. The appearance of carbide lamps was an amazing revolution. It was usual to retire at eight in the evening, and then, from six in the afternoon, the stories would begin. The storytellers were the cook, the laundress, and my grandmother, because everyone slept at the house... Of course, as a child, they never stopped scaring me with those things, but between fear and delight, there I was, listening intently, although my uncle José would later repeat to me that those things didn’t exist... Those family gatherings were delightful."

Stories of D. Jorge Calderón, fragment from "The Ocotal Memories of Don Jorge Calderón Gutiérrez" by Mario Fulvio Espinosa, La Prensa, April 28, 2002.

The Wandering Jew

 Written by Luis José Castro Jeréz

   In the fields of Nicaragua, it was customary on Good Friday to enjoy the typical "spicy sardine of the Indian Moctezuma" with rice, fried beans, and boiled plantains, or the smell of a corn tortilla freshly taken off the griddle. People would savor a rich jícara of tiste, accompanied by the classic Holy Week dessert made with mangoes, jocotes, pieces of papaya, cinnamon, and cloves caramelized with several blocks of cane sugar. Everyone would sit and wait at three in the afternoon for the classic "cordonazo" — the wrath of Heaven with lightning and thunder at the moment Jesus expired on the Cross at Calvary. They would peer down the path to see the figure of the Wandering Jew pass by; that heartless cobbler who one afternoon denied Jesus a chair in his workshop to rest his weary body, and for that, he was condemned to wander the roads of the world until the arrival of the Final Judgment.

    To tell the truth, the few times I spent Holy Week days at the farm near Puerto Somoza, I never saw or heard anything extraordinary with lightning or thunder. However, from three in the afternoon on Good Friday, the wind would blow through the tops of the trees, producing notes from the branches that resembled moans. A whirlwind of wind seemed to shape the dry leaves and road dust into a multicolored human figure. This blended with the oppressive Holy Week steam rising from the earth's depths... Could it be that the legend of the Wandering Jew thus came to life on the lonely paths of the Pinolero mountains?

Tales and Legends of the Matagalpa Indians

     It was about the year 1550 in the Valley of Sebaco, in the Spanish province of Nicaragua, whose name in nahuatl "Cihuacuatl" means Serpent Woman, a nation of Matagalpa Indians under the leadership of the cacique Yamboa lived.

    Among the animals they hunted for food were the turkey, quail, agouti, guardatinaja (a species of agouti particular to Nicaragua) and deer. Insofar as metals were concerned, they obtained and worked with gold, given its malleability and beauty. They had discovered deposits of this precious metal in a cave in the mountains north of their settlement. It is believed that this cave was connected one cave on the shore of Rio Grande with a cave near Esteli. They jealously guarded this secret, especially when they became aware that the Spaniards were looking for gold with unrestrained ambition.

    When incursions of soldiers under the Spanish crown began arriving, the "Cacique" (chieftain) cordially received them. Meanwhile, the Spaniards discovered that some female relatives of the Cacique displayed necklaces containing gold nuggets the size of tamarind seeds. Soon, they obtained some small nuggets through flattery and others by trading flashy cloth and other objects, such as iron knives.

    The Cacique offered gifts of gold nuggets to the Spanish king; the legend speaks of several leather bags of full of gold nuggets. For this reason, they are referred to as royal tamarinds. This gift only resulted in awakening the ambition of the conquistadores, who arrived more aggressively the next time and erected a protective shelter or garrison for the soldiers very near the Indian settlement. The Indians resented being forced to hand over the gold. This resulted in some skirmishes and deaths on both sides.

    Meanwhile, in Cordoba, Spain, there lived a family whose father, Joseph Lopes de Cantarero, a lieutenant in the Spanish Armada, had been sent to a Nicaraguan province and had been reported killed in a region called Cihuacoatl in combat with the Indians living in that area. The news arrived several months later to the peninsula. When his widow, Mar'a Tinoco de Alburquerque, received the notification, their son, Jose, was a mere thirteen years old. She could not foresee a future for him with the loss of his father's salary. She made the decision to take her son to a Franciscan monastery that was near their house. She spoke with Fray Domingo Caceres and succeeded in having Jose admitted to the monastery to study with hopes that he would eventual become a priest.

Jose was both congenial and smart. During these years, he learned Latin, Geography, History, Public Speaking, Holy Scripture and Theology. With only a few months left prior to his ordination, the anxious youth decided that the priesthood was not his vocation. He was ambitious. He wanted to go to the place where his father had died and seek out adventures in that mysterious land, known at that time as the West Indies.

    He remembered that when he was little, his mother had taken him to the port of Cadiz to leave messages for his father there when he was serving the crown in America. Now that he was nineteen years old, he took advantage of an authorized visit to his mother to confess to her that he would not return to the monastery and that he wanted to do something of which he always dreamed. It would require several changes of direction and many years before there would be news of him being a successful man. His mother cried, but finally blessed him and sent him on his way.

    He collected more information about his father and instead of returning to the monastery, he went to the port of Cadiz. There, he sought out a boat going to America. He found one traveling to Cartagena of the Indies and convinced the captain that he was a friar who could offer religious services to the crew, as well as the Lord's protection during the voyage.

    Jose embarked towards the New World. Arriving in Cartagena of the Indies, he waited two weeks before catching another boat to a small port called David. He crossed the Darien isthmus en route towards Panama. There, he took another boat going to the port of la Posesi-n de El Realejo, in the small province of Nicaragua. Arriving in Leon, he stayed there for a few months. There, he left behind the priesthood and celebrated his twentieth birthday.

    He inquired about enlisting as a clerk for the garrison coming to Sebaco. He found one that was coming from Muimui and enlisted with them. He arrived in Sebaco and asked permission to remain since it was one of the most important ports [during the rainy season].

    After having situated himself and investigating the history and local conditions, he found out that his father, Lieutenant Joseph Lopes de Cantarero, had died because a captain of the name of Alonso had snatched pieces of gold from some of the Indian women. The Indians retaliated by killing some of the soldiers that the captain had ordered to protect him. It was this ambitious captain that compromised his troops, resulting in the loss of the lieutenant and several soldiers. Jose investigated this captain's fate and found that he had previously perished in attempting to forcefully discover the sources of the gold.

    In the meantime, Jose tried to befriend those close to the Cacique. Being an astute and educated youth, he found a way to become acquainted with the Cacique's daughter, Oyanka. He spent several months trying to establish this relationship, to learn the language of the Matagalpa Indians and to teach her Spanish.
As both were young and charming, they fell in love. She was seventeen, with bronze skin, amber eyes, fine-featured, sexy and had beautiful, long hair. He fell for her, the first woman in his life, but did not ignore his intention to get rich. Conversing with her, he succeeded under an oath of secrecy, to get her to take him to the place where her father extracted the tamarinds of gold.

    Without letting anyone know, Jose and Oyanka walked two hours from the settlement at Sebaco towards the mountains in the vicinity of Esteli. Three leagues to the north of the community, there was a secret and hidden cave. Jose and Oyanka entered the forbidden cave with a lit ocote pine torch. Startled by the light, bats streamed out and abundant snakes slithered to safety.

    Jose could see a vein of quart before him in which were embedded big lumps of the precious metal. He could not believe it. They were within arm's reach. With little effort, he dislodged what seemed to be big golden buttons he size of tamarind seeds. He placed seven of them in his sack and thanked his girlfriend. They admired the beautiful scenery of the valley and the setting of the sun in the western mountains and returned late to the village.

    Meanwhile, Oyanka's father inquired about his daughter's whereabouts. Upon receiving the information about which direction they had taken, he figured that they had headed toward the secret cave. Sorrowful, he ordered the capture of the pair and imprisoned the young princess. He could not eliminate Jose for fear of the soldiers quartered in Metapa. Learning of an incursion of the Yarince Indians of the Caribe race, who tended to attack at night to carry off Spanish women and children, he sent a message to the Yarinces that if they would not attack his people, he would send them gold nuggets and a young Spanish man of high ranking whose ransom they could negotiate in the future with the Spanish crown in Cartagena of the Indies from whence arose the incursions of the Caribes. He sent out an advance party of Matagalpa Indians to meet with them near Mui Mui and made the treaty.

    In this fashion, he was able to rid himself of his daughter's boyfriend without the necessity of doing him in. Oyanka, deprived of liberty and learning that her beloved had been sent away, became depressed to the point where she no longer wanted to eat. Her distressed father tried to convince her, but the lovesick young woman told him that she could not live without Jose and that she would fall into a deep sleep which according to her, she would not awaken from until her father returned her beloved to her.

    It could not be avoided. At first, a pensive Oyanka laid down with eyes opened. After a few weeks, she fell into a profound sleep that was not death itself, since her body did not undergo decay; a sleep from which only her lover could awaken her.

    Four hundred years later, Oyanka has been transformed into stone and can be seen from her village of Sebaco, El Guayabal (San Isidro), La Trinidad, Chaguitillo, Carreta Quebrada and by generations that will come in the future, perennially...and perhaps for an eternity.

THE END

    How to see Oyanka
Travelling on the asphalt highway from Sebaco to Matagalpa. A little bit before crossing the Sebaco bridge, or at the beginning of the highway to San Isidro, in the northwest horizon you can see the Oyanka hill. In the background to the right is the Mocuana hill. But if we continue to the right towards the highway to Matagalpa, in the profile of the hills to the north, you can see the silhouette of the princess laying down on her back, her beautiful head with long hair, bare breasted, a leg slightly raised, the other leg and her arms resting on the hill, and her young abdomen slightly pronounced. With child?

How to awaken her

    Look for a young man with brown hair and honey-colored eyes, of some eight and a half spans in height, slim, but athletic. They say he escaped to the Caribes on the Antilles Coast and he wanders in search of his beloved, whose love endures more than gold.

Eddy Kühl
Selva Negra, Nicaragua
eddy@selvanegra.com.ni

The Hanged Man of the Cliff

     

    "Many years ago, on the old road that goes from La Concha to Masaya, some musicians were coming back from playing in the procession of the Holy Burial on a Good Friday. They were heading in a cart at midnight, and as they passed by a large cliff that was on the road, they saw a man hanging from a tree. He was dressed in the clothing of the time of the Romans and Jews. It caught their attention that the man was struggling with his body, wriggling and groaning while hanging from his neck as if he were being hanged. They decided to go and save him, but when they climbed the large cliff, the man and the tree were no longer there. Everyone exclaimed in fear that the man they saw hanging was Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus." Excerpt taken from Anecdotes of Holy Week Written by Bayardo Ortiz Pérez - El Nuevo Diario April 9, 2011

The Great Deer of Masaya Lagoon

     “The old fishermen who live near Masaya Lagoon say that on Good Friday, on the shores of the lagoon, the devil appears transformed into a great deer with large horns and eyes spewing fire. Don Juan Galán recounted that while he was out on his raft fishing in the lagoon around two in the morning, he saw a large deer with glassy eyes on the lagoon's shore. He prepared his weapon and fired two shots at it, saw it fall, and arrived at the spot where the animal had fallen, but there was no trace of it.

    Once more, don Galán ventured into the lagoon. After a while, he saw the deer again, this time larger, the size of an ox. He prepared his rifle again and fired two shots at it, seeing it fall once more. However, this time, he approached the deer with great fear, prayed, and entrusted himself to God. When he arrived at the spot where the animal had fallen, he was very surprised because there was no trace of the animal. He lost consciousness, and some fishermen found him on his raft in the middle of the lagoon. Later, Don Juan exclaimed, “It's the devil who came out for me! It's the devil who appeared there!”

Excerpt taken from “Anecdotes of Holy Week in Masaya” written by Bayardo Ortiz Pérez, folklorist professor. El Nuevo Diario.

Carretanagua

     

    La Carretanagua is considered the embodiment of Nicaraguan folklore and mythology. The tale is a blend of past realities and imaginative oral culture. Apparently, the story of La Carretanagua is based on caravans of Spaniards who conquered the land during the 16th century. As the ox carts moved through the land, the Spaniards would plunder the Indian settlements, taking their gold and supplies as well as capturing slaves. Slaves were chained and led along on these journeys, as the Spanish carts left ruin and death in their wake. Legend states that La Carretanagua makes his way through towns from about 1:00 am, making a racket as his ancient oxen pull his cart along. Individuals who say they have heard him in the night have discovered that one of the town’s citizens is dead the next day. Those have ‘seen’ this mysterious entourage of oxen and lost souls say that it moves quickly and is unable to turn corners due to is cross shape, simply disappearing as it reaches the end of a road. This tale may have been created to provide Nicaraguans with a tangible understanding of death.

This and other legends can be read at Nicaragua.com

The Lord of the Clouds

     Many years ago, in the region of Jinotega, a boy named Mixtli was born. As he grew older, he showed no interest in the typical activities of his age. Instead, day after day, all he did was sit and watch Cerro Chirinagua, obsessed with the pretentious idea of wanting to speak with the gods and see what they looked like.

    But the gods did not like the idea of a mere mortal wanting to speak with them, and they decided to punish him. His young skin wrinkled in an instant, his once black hair turned silver, and by the end of the day, the boy had become a stone giant. Since then, Mixtli, the Lord of the Clouds, still stands there, now covered by the lush forest, eternally gazing at the sky and forever guarding the mists of Jinotega and the rains that bless and beautify this region.

I am Samuel Belivet

    

    In the year 1935, on the old highway road from Masaya to the villages, a man dressed as a Roman soldier arrived at a small farm by the roadside, where a woman was alone drawing water from a well. He said to the lady, 'I am Samuel Belivet, please give me some water, I am very thirsty.' The lady said, 'Wait a moment,' and went to grab a cup. The lady nearly of freight when she returned to the place where she had left the character waiting to give him water. He was no longer there, he had disappeared, and she only felt a strong smell of sulfur; immediately the lady thought it was the wandering Jew who had appeared to her. She was traumatized and had to be taken to the hospital in Masaya to be treated.

Excerpt taken from 'Anécdotas de Semana Santa' (Anecdotes of Holy Week). Written by Bayardo Ortiz Pérez - El Nuevo Diario/April 9, 2011

The Story of a Beautiful Girl

    People say that years ago, a young man from Managua was invited to a wedding in León, the old university city. On the appointed day, it was cloudy and drizzly. The spirits invited him to stay at home, but Ernesto, the young man in the story, didn't want to miss the awaited event because one of his dearest friends was getting married.

    Thinking it was worth the trip and considering that León isn't too far from the capital, he decided to leave early to arrive on time and avoid any delays. When he reached the area where Lake Xolotlán begins to flirt, showing its blue to the people traveling on the Old Road to León, a heavy rain began to fall mercilessly.

     He hadn't left behind the memory of the lake, nor had the scent of wet earth left his mind, when suddenly he saw a girl with beautiful hair signaling for help by the side of the road. Ernesto slowed down his car, and upon stopping, she told him that her vehicle was damaged and that she needed to travel to León to attend a wedding she had been invited to. He felt sorry to see her alone under that threatening weather, so the young man decided to give her a ride and thus take advantage of some good company. As he started chatting with her, he couldn't help but be drawn in by the warmth of her voice and the simplicity of her smile, contrasting with the cold paleness of her thin face. Coincidences of life, the wedding they would both attend turned out to be the same one, and amid songs and joy, he sought any free moment to step away from his friends and approach her. The girl, alone in a corner of the house, seemed to be waiting only for his company. Ernesto then offered to take her back to Managua, which she gladly accepted, and they both set off near midnight. The young man enjoyed the company of his companion, the dark background of her starry hair, and the serene conversation that only a person who has lost everything and is at peace can offer. The air was filled with the natural scent of a beautiful woman.

    When they reached the same area of the lake where Ernesto first saw her, she told him to stop. She insisted that she had to get off. He persisted on accompanying her to her house, but the girl adamantly refused. She explained that she lived very close by, that she didn't want him to be delayed because it was dangerous to travel at night. So he lent her his jacket to protect herself from the light drizzle that was still falling, seeking an excuse to see her again. The girl got off quickly and disappeared into the thick fog of a lost path. Ernesto would have sworn she floated as she walked, like apparitions in penance on warm nights of Holy Week.

    The next day he returned to the road, which looked different now in the sunlight. This time there was no rain, no fog, much less a girl. He got off, searched, asked in various hamlets giving the description and name of the mysterious and beautiful woman who had accompanied him the previous night. Surprised, the people who remembered her told him that the young woman had died about a year ago in a tragic accident on a rainy afternoon on the way to a party in Poneloya Beach. They even told him that there was a cross nearby with a name and date. The young man felt confused and, getting annoyed, thought that the good people were making fun of him. So he asked to be taken to the place where the poor girl was supposedly buried because he couldn't believe it. His heart pounded fiercely, and an unexpected shiver ran through his body at an unusual sight he didn't expect. Hung on the cross was his jacket, unmistakable. He took it in his trembling hands, brought it to his face to make sure it was his, and felt it damp, cold, withered. Mixed with his own scent, barely perceptible, the pleasant smell of that beautiful woman floated in the air.

The Donkey of Cuapa's Rock

     Among the fondest memories of my childhood are the songs and stories my mom used to tell me when we traveled by road to some city in Nicaragua.

    Back in those days, seat belts or special seats for children weren't common, so one of the greatest pleasures for me was to move to the front seat and sit on my mom's lap. I loved listening to her tales of monkeys descending from the mountain or mischievous goblins stealing girls.

    She used to tell me the latter story when we traveled to Juigalpa, her hometown. As we passed by Cuapa's Rock, a famous monolith in the Department of Chontales, she would point it out to me and say, "There's the donkey... can you see it?" Then she would begin to tell me that many years ago, some imps fell in love with a girl and wouldn't leave her alone all day, hiding her things, pulling her hair, throwing small stones at her. Neither she nor her family could bear them anymore. They were so mischievous that one day they stole a donkey the family owned, and when they went looking for it, they saw it perched on Cuapa's Rock. The desperate mother made a deal with them. They agreed that if they brought down the donkey, she would give them her daughter. When the imps brought down the donkey, the lady didn't fulfill her part of the deal. The imps started bothering them even more. They became unbearable, it was impossible to continue living there. To cut the story short, the family decided to flee from that hell. So, they packed their belongings, loaded the donkey with all sorts of things, and without looking back, they set off. Halfway there, they realized they had forgotten some things and were about to return to fetch them when suddenly they heard little voices from behind the donkey... "No! We've got those things that you forgot right here!" What a scare it was for the poor people! It was none other than those horrible creatures coming after them... Oh, no one easily outwits those rascals!

    I've heard different versions of this legend, but this is how it was narrated to me.

==================

The myth of the monolith

    Despite the modernity of these times, some inhabitants of Cuapa and the surroundings of La Mica believe in the myths and legends that have been passed down through generations. Among these legends are stories of the Cadejo, the Cegua, pacts made by some locals with the devil, and mysterious riders. The most famous of all is the one about the imps of Cuapa's monolith. A massive rock that can be seen and visited by tourists at the entrance of this city and is also one of the most imposing in the country. According to historian Lazo Barberena, about this monolith, popularly known as "Cuapa's Rock," locals tell that there was a couple who had a very beautiful daughter named Florita. Upon reaching adolescence, the family began to have problems with the imps that inhabited the rock, as they fell in love with the young girl and wanted to take her away. The imps caused havoc in the family's house. Before abducting Florita, the imps had taken a donkey belonging to Don Pablo, the girl's father."

Mercedes Sequeira, La Mica Pre-Columbian Site, La Prensa February 26, 2006.

Don Odilón and His Water Stand

    Nicaraguans have a rich imagination; we love to seek explanations, we get carried away by rumors, eager to comment on something mysterious, and often reach conclusions that are far from being a logical solution.

    This was the case with Don Odilón, as narrated by Denys Rocha, who was an eyewitness to the event.

    "As I was saying, Don Odilón had died three days prior, and people were afraid to pass through the alley where the water stand he had managed in life was located. The news had spread that at midnight, the sound of the cart and the winch could be heard as if someone were drawing water from the well and transferring it from the bucket to the trough. The neighbors of the deceased claimed to have seen the silhouette of a man perched on the well curb in the midst of his work, through a crack in the house. All these rumors led the neighborhood to conclude that Don Odilón was still around. "Surely he is wandering because his sudden death didn't give him a chance to settle his affairs," some said. "It's because doing the same job for so long prevents him from separating from this world," others said. Opinions about the reasons for Don Odilón's appearances were diverse and complicated, but what they all agreed on was that everyone was afraid.

    One night, around midnight, I heard a commotion coming from the patio of my house, just below the window of my bedroom, which was on an improvised second floor. I peeked out and saw a group of people, including my parents, arguing heatedly. "There he is," they said, "you can perfectly hear the creaking of the cart wheel turning! It's Don Odilón!" I went down and joined the group. Indeed, I perceived the clear creaking of the rotating attachment. Despite being raised in a superstitious environment, I am skeptical of supernatural things; that's how I differ from the other members of my family. As an adult, I understood that the natural reasoning we all have when we are born had protected me from the beliefs and charlatanism of the time, remnants of the medieval obscurantism.

    To dispel our doubts and stop the speculations, I said, I suggest we all go to the place where the noise is coming from to, personally ascertain what is really happening. Everyone backed off in fear. So, I said, I'll go alone and started walking towards the gate. When they saw that I had opened the door leading to the alley, several followed me and caught up, forming a group of five. We reached the foot of the well. There was no one there, the cart was well oiled from constant use. Indeed, it was turning, but it was due to the action of a strong wind blowing at that moment. We all burst into laughter, and the recriminations began. The onlookers who had stayed at a distance, watching from afar, upon hearing the laughter we were sharing, approached and also became convinced that nothing supernatural was happening. Since then, people resumed passing through the alley without fear. With Don Odilón's disappearance, the water stand also disappeared. His children did not want to continue the family tradition of water carriers and closed the business."

Memories of Denys Rocha as collected by Martha Isabel Arana - February 2, 2006. Photo Credits: Cristina Trejo

Apoyo Lagoon and its mysteries

Apoyo Lagoon is a source of pride for Nicaraguans, a gift from the gods whose crystal-clear waters reflect a piece of heaven. There are many varied and fabulous stories that surround this area. In its surroundings, many inhabitants claim to have stumbled upon mysterious figures who, dressed in the most exotic garments, appear out of nowhere, leaving those who have the fortune or misfortune to encounter them perplexed. Old men of the forest, little men with golden teeth, apparitions walking on the lagoon without getting wet, goblins with terrifying faces or sorcerers from nearby villages are all part of its beautiful paths.

    

    Not only are the trails filled with mystery. It is also said that the lagoon itself is home to an immense snake with two horns. Some insist that it eats humans all year round. Other versions suggest that it only appears during Holy Week. People has to be really careful if they decide to refresh themselves in its waters. Those who drown will be transformed into animals, or even worse, they may be drawn to the bottom where there is a city of submerged women waiting for their next victim to arrive.

Tales of Monimbó

    With a fantastic imagination, the inhabitants of the Monimbó neighborhood in the city of Masaya are famous for their tales of "ceguas" (monstrous creatures) and "micas" or witch pigs.

    Don Juan Bautista Jiménez Ortiz, a carver and artist from that place, recounts, "In those times, Monimbó was illuminated with oil lamps, people would say 'good night' and go to bed early. However, at midnight, dragging footsteps could be heard on the paths along the houses. It was the witch pig, whose favorite place to scare people was close to a place called Las Cuatro Esquinas

    "I experienced firsthand. It turns out I had a girlfriend in San Juan, around where the Roberto Clemente Stadium is now. I was returning around ten or eleven at night from visiting her and I had to pass through that place. There was no light, only oil lamps in certain places and an occasional carbide lamp.

  

 "I was walking with fear, but trying to act very brave. Suddenly, I felt my whole body vibrate, I heard the snorting of the animal near me, and its shadow passed. I was terrified to hear that noise because I knew for certain that it was the animal representing the Devil. How was that noise? It was as if the animal were emitting horrible snoring sounds. As best as I could, I ran towards my house and the first thing I did was scream, 'Dad!' because I knew my father, who is related to the late Victoriano Chávez, could defend me in that situation. 'What's wrong with you?' he asked me. Well, the witch pig came out, I told him. 'That's obvious, because you have a frightened look on your face,' he says, 'let's go see (he went out). There's nothing there.' But I was trembling with fear, he went, walked around the block, and returned to the same place: there was nothing."

    As D. Enrique P. Hernández narrates in his book "Folklore of Nicaragua," these infernal appearances take advantage of the darkness of the nights, the atmosphere of superstition, and the imagination of the inhabitants to scare mischief-makers in order to cause harm due to revenge, jealousy, resentments, or enmities. They even carry out robberies and thefts with impunity.

    The story of Juan Bautista Jiménez is an excerpt from "The Famous Carver Who Made a Pact with the Devil" by Mario Fulvio Espinosa, published in La Prensa on July 24, 2005.

The Prince of Gobiado

    In Pueblo Nuevo, Jinotega, in the mountains of northern Nicaragua, the locals insist that every Holy Tuesday or Thursday and five minutes before midnight, the chilling spirit of a horseback rider descends from El Gobiado Hill. The mission of this eerie specter is to seek out a woman who is about to give birth and steal the unborn child.

According to the locals, El Gobiado or the Prince of Gobiado as some call him, made a pact with the devil long ago when he was alive, and now, every year, his duty is to search for newborns to deliver them as sacrifices. He is heard galloping down, wearing his black cape, terrorizing animals, women, and workers in his path. Dominated by their fears and the tales they have heard since childhood, people seek refuge behind the closed door of their darkened homes. Every year it is heard that the rider descends until he reaches a famous farm. There, he enters the main hall of the lonely property to meet with the demon who awaits him in the form of a serpent. After a certain ritual, he leaves the house and the serpent turns into a huge sow that begins to spin around until it opens a hole in the ground that swallows him completely. El Gobiado enters the hole where he will remain submerged halfway and then deposit the creatures he has stolen, and surely their parents have not had time to baptize. His mission has been fulfilled, his life perpetuated.

Cadejo

    The imagination of Nicaraguans is rich in details. In the blink of an eye, anyone who didn't understand a story can twist it and made it more flavorful. There's never a conversation among friends where some legend doesn't eventually surface, and the storyteller swears up and down that it happened to them or to some acquaintance of their family. You never know if the story is true or false, but really, that doesn't matter. We all prefer to revel in the story and learn it by heart because someday, surely, we will retell it when ghost stories comes up again.

    Many Nicaraguans claim to have encountered the feared Cadejo. According to popular belief, there are two Cadejos that roam the lonely streets of my land. The Cadejo takes the form of a dog, large, with fearsome claws and a special sound as it walks. They appear at nightfall and disappear when the first rays of the sun illuminate a new day. The White Cadejo is a guide and protector of the man who wanders at late night hours, while the Black Cadejo is an evil spirit. The latter is terrifying, as its appearance instills terror with its eyes that seem to emanate fire. It is said that the white one protects the man against the black one, who is his natural enemy.

    A friend of mine told me that she walked alongside the white Cadejo once. It was night, and she was returning home after accompanying her grandmother in the final moments of her life, in her native Rivas. As she lived in the countryside, she had to walk alone to her house for a long stretch. She felt very afraid because the night was dark, without a moon. However, she claims she felt a presence beside her, but she couldn't see anything because the sky was shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, a lightning bolt illuminated her path. To her astonishment, she saw a white dog walking beside her. She had never felt so much fear in her life because she had heard that in that region, the guiding dog appeared all the time. Fortunately, at that moment, a neighbor passed by on horseback and offered to take her home. I always remember her story on dark nights when I feel like I'm not alone.

The tree full of imps

     "Ligia Prado is a young woman of 30 years old, but she still remembers as if it were today the experience she had when she was just 7 years old.

    Near Ligia's house, there was a beautiful tree, and she loved to play in that place because she didn't have any friends to have fun with. But one day something extraordinary happened: little children started coming out of a giant hole under the tree and invited her to play. 'Come, girl, this is fun!' those words are always present in her mind.

    When I first saw them, I thought they were toys or children who were born small, but I was surprised when they showed me some very large coins that had a unique shine, as if you were looking at gold nuggets," the young woman said.

    Ligia never approached them because the tricksters had offered her that money to get into the hole of the tree. At that moment, she felt a profound fear that shook her, but her mother helped her overcome the problem."

    Excerpt from "Here many people have seen them”. Written by Silvia Elena Carrillo/ El Nuevo Diario, November 27, 2003.