“Por que, Dios mio? Por que?” Mari’s tormented sobbing tore at Carmen and Moises’ hearts. Her chocolate brown eyes swollen and red-rimmed.
“Calmada, Mari. Por favor, stay calm. Let the police do their job,” Carmen told Mari as she tried to keep her away from the water’s edge.
“Carmen, why don’t you take Mari back to the restaurant and get her a cup of coffee? I’ll stay here and if they find something, I’ll let you know right away,” Moises said, not letting his voice betray the fear he felt for Joe and the children. His heartfelt appreciation for Joe and Mari’s belief in him made him determined to do all in his power to help his friends any way possible.
“No”, argued Mari. “I’m not leaving. I intend to be right here when they find Joe and my children. No me voy a mover,” screamed Mari.
Carmen and Moises exchanged glances with each other and Moises turned to Officer Oniveros with a pleading look for help.
Liliana Ontiveros, semi-rookie cop with the El Paso Police department, had been the first on the scene. She understood Moises’ unspoken cry for help and approached Mari.
“Mrs. Veracruz, I need to speak with you and ask you a few questions. I understand this is extremely difficult for you, but the answers I need from you are very important. Please come with me.”
With that said, Mari went into her thinking mode. Mari had taught her daughter that if she was ever in a scary or difficult situation, she should not stop thinking. She could always cry later. Now was the time to stop and think clearly of what she could do to get her family back.
Mari walked away from the river with Liliana.
© Cordero-Cordell, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
“Legend of La Llorona”
“Ay, mis hijos! Donde estan mis hijos! Ay, mis hijos!”
Maria’s wailing and desperate cries could be heard up and down the river through the length of the town.
The beautiful Maria had married a handsome young Norteño traveling through her small village. She felt honored that he had given her his attention. Within two years she had given birth to two children. Her husband continued to travel, often leaving for months at a time while Maria cared for the children on her own as well as tend to the small farm she called home.
On one of his travels back to the village, the handsome Norteño told Maria that he was leaving her and never coming back. He told her that she had become too tired looking and unattractive from taking care of the children and that he needed someone young and beautiful and worthy of his attention. Having said this, he mounted his horse and rode away into the night.
Maria became so distraught that she turned and looked at her two young ones with so much disdain and blamed them for being left alone by their father. In her agony, she grabbed them and dragged them to the river where she pushed them into the water. The river currents were so strong that it wasn’t long before the children were pulled under the surface and drowned. Seeing their tiny heads disappear below the water, Maria immediately realized what she had done, but it was too late. The children were gone. She fell on her knees and pulled at her hair, screaming, “Ay mis hijos!”
The next morning, Maria was found dead along the riverbank. No one could determine how she had died, other than because of the sorrow and grieving at the loss of her children. She was buried that same day.
That evening, families walking by the river could hear a faint crying. As they came closer to the water, the crying became a wailing, and words could be heard, “Ay mis hijos! Donde estan mis hijos!” A faint white mist appeared to float above the riverbank, close to where Maria’s body had been found. It resembled the long white dress in which she had been buried.
To this day, mothers and grandmothers warn their children not to be out at night because La Llorona is still looking for her children and she might snatch them up, believing them to be her own.
© Cordero-Cordell, 2010
Maria’s wailing and desperate cries could be heard up and down the river through the length of the town.
The beautiful Maria had married a handsome young Norteño traveling through her small village. She felt honored that he had given her his attention. Within two years she had given birth to two children. Her husband continued to travel, often leaving for months at a time while Maria cared for the children on her own as well as tend to the small farm she called home.
On one of his travels back to the village, the handsome Norteño told Maria that he was leaving her and never coming back. He told her that she had become too tired looking and unattractive from taking care of the children and that he needed someone young and beautiful and worthy of his attention. Having said this, he mounted his horse and rode away into the night.
Maria became so distraught that she turned and looked at her two young ones with so much disdain and blamed them for being left alone by their father. In her agony, she grabbed them and dragged them to the river where she pushed them into the water. The river currents were so strong that it wasn’t long before the children were pulled under the surface and drowned. Seeing their tiny heads disappear below the water, Maria immediately realized what she had done, but it was too late. The children were gone. She fell on her knees and pulled at her hair, screaming, “Ay mis hijos!”
The next morning, Maria was found dead along the riverbank. No one could determine how she had died, other than because of the sorrow and grieving at the loss of her children. She was buried that same day.
That evening, families walking by the river could hear a faint crying. As they came closer to the water, the crying became a wailing, and words could be heard, “Ay mis hijos! Donde estan mis hijos!” A faint white mist appeared to float above the riverbank, close to where Maria’s body had been found. It resembled the long white dress in which she had been buried.
To this day, mothers and grandmothers warn their children not to be out at night because La Llorona is still looking for her children and she might snatch them up, believing them to be her own.
© Cordero-Cordell, 2010
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