El Duende
High in the Andes Mountains in the isolated region of Antioquia, the jungle holds many dangers. Its lush, temperate climate provides a bounty of fruit and a continuous growing season, but many creatures lurk beneath the trees, and not all of them are friendly. Children are discouraged from wandering the forest alone or at night lest they lose their way or be devoured by a wild animal. Or worse.
While visiting this area of Colombia, I collected several humorous and horrifying tales passed down through generations and will share some of them with you.
One creature to beware is El Duende. Three to four feet tall, with long arms and a large hat, El Duende resembles a leprechaun or goblin. This mischievous prankster relieves his boredom by moving your boots, putting your bed on the roof, and other annoying antics. He can confuse your sense of direction, taking you deeper into the forest until you are hopelessly lost. Sometimes, he will even lure children from their homes, never to be seen again.
Once, El Duende tried to persuade a boy to follow him into the woods. While the boy's parents gathered food, El Duende altered his appearance to look like a human child. Left alone with only a dog to play with, the boy welcomed El Duende and readily played with him. "Let's play horse," suggested El Duende. "I'll be the horse, and you be the rider." The boy got on his back, and El Duende headed away from the house. The boy's dog suddenly growled and barked. Then the dog bit El Duende in the behind. The goblin yelped and reverted to his natural form. Shocked and scared, the boy raced back into his house and was more cautious of strangers in the future.
Another time, a family moved into a remote area of the mountains. The man and his wife built a large house to accommodate their four children and their aging parents. They had not lived there long before strange things began to happen.
"Where is the maceta?" asked the grandmother as she prepared to pound dried corn in the wooden pilón.
"Isn't it there in the corner?" asked Mother.
Grandmother replied in the negative, and a thorough search commenced. Finally, they found the maceta, or pestle, stacked with the firewood. "I wonder how it got there?" said Grandmother. Mother shrugged her shoulders.
The next morning, the father could not find his hat. "Who took my hat? It was hanging right here!" he pointed to a peg on the wall.
"Why would anyone take your hat?" asked Mother. "And what would they do with it at night? You must have left it outside."
"I did not leave it outside," Father insisted, but he could not find the hat. He went out to work in his garden, grumbling.
Every day, items disappeared. Sometimes the family found the missing item, sometimes they didn't. Bags of beans spilled and buckets tipped over by themselves. The family became very frustrated. Occasionally, Mother thought she heard laughter coming from nowhere. She jumped at every noise.
Then a friend hiked up the mountain to visit. When Mother related their troubles, the friend shook her head.
"It is El Duende, up to his old tricks. He lives in these mountains."
"What should we do?" asked Mother.
"You cannot scare him away. You will have to move."
The family did not want to move, but they were so tired of losing their things that they gave in. They called all their relatives to help them carry their furniture down the mountain. When everything was packed, and the house was empty, they started down the trail.
Mother worried that something had been forgotten or stolen by El Duende. "Who has the wash basin?"
"I have it, sister."
"Did we get the shovel from the garden?"
"Yes, Mother," answered the oldest son.
"What about the wheelbarrow?"
"Uncle has it," said the youngest daughter.
Mother pursed her lips, listing all her belongings in her head. The long procession of family members had their arms full, carrying furniture, bedding, tools, and clothing. "Who has the pilón?" The mortar and pestle had been in her family a long time, and she did not want to lose it.
"I have it," answered a strange voice behind her.
Mother turned around to see a small figure lugging the wooden bowl and grinning. It was El Duende.
These stories were related to me by John Lopez. John was born on a finca (farm) in Colombia, and his grandmother told him these tales. The photo shows me with a pilón while visiting a coffee finca in Antioquia.
Article By Amber Gabriel
Amber Gabriel is a Central Texas author, artist, and teacher. She lives on a ranch with her husband, their four dogs, and a herd of Black Angus. She writes, reads, dances, paints, plays several instruments with varying degrees of competence, and never stops spinning stories in her head.