Delicia Dagua, "Origin of the Agoutis."

From interviews with Tod D. Swanson

Description

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English Translation

I will tell you about the agouti. A man lived alone with his mother, and he liked to walk through the forest. With a blowgun he used to wander through the jungle; there were places with many slopes and hills, and he would walk toward the mountains, going deeper and deeper into the forest. As he walked along, in order to make him pay attention, a voice would say, “ña, ña, kij, kij!”, and a figure would run off making that sound. Every time he saw that being, she would run making “tuk, tuk!”, and he would say to her, “If you were a woman, I would take you with me. If you were my wife, I would take you; we would make a garden and live drinking chicha.” He used to say this often, for he was still young and lived with his mother, who had large plots of yuca. After calling out like that, he would go deep into the forest again. The next day, when he passed near the same place, the agouti would appear once more. She would run out there, and he would repeat, “If you were my wife, I would take you with me.” That was how he walked, always saying those words. After three days of walking and speaking to her, on the fourth day something different happened. When he returned from the forest, he brought animals hunted with his blowgun, carrying many of them with him. One day, when he looked closely at the log from which she always ran out, he noticed something strange: she had hair down to her knees and was a beautiful woman. From there she said to him, “I want to go with you.” “Let’s go,” she said. He answered, “Why do you want to be my wife? You are just standing there.” She replied, “My yuca is already rotting; let’s go, so that you can prepare chicha and give me something to drink.” She only smiled and, after laughing, said, “Let me carry it.” When she saw what he was carrying, she told him, “Give it to me,” and, like his wife, she offered to carry the load. When he handed it to her, she carried it, and together they arrived at the house. His mother had already returned from the garden. She had cooked the yuca and the papachina, and in the pot they were prepared with crushed chili. The mother was waiting for her son and, when he was about to enter, she stood looking outside. She thought, “Where could my son have brought this woman from?” Staring at her, she said, “Come in, daughter-in-law.” That was how people used to speak before, even when they did not know the person. They would directly call her “daughter-in-law.” Nowadays we say, “Where could my son have brought that woman from?” Then gossip begins, but she is still made part of the family. I always tell my children that today we should know the family; however, the mother received her by calling her “daughter-in-law.” During the first days, they went out together to harvest yuca. The daughter-in-law worked alongside her mother-in-law, filled her basket, and asked her to go ahead. From the moment she met her, the mother called that agouti “daughter-in-law,” and that is why the elders, even today, keep the custom of calling them “daughter-in-law.” One day the daughter-in-law said, “I will come later.” The mother replied, “You will come later, daughter-in-law; I will go ahead to cook the food or prepare whatever there is.” The elders would go ahead carrying the basket of yuca. The food was already prepared, but she did not appear. The mother-in-law already had the yuca and papachina cooked; she was mashing and chewing the yuca, but the daughter-in-law did not arrive. That was how she was; that was how she used to behave. Some time had already passed living that way. One morning, before going out to the garden, the mother stayed thinking, “Why does she always tell me to go ahead, if when everything is already cooked she always arrives in the afternoon?” She placed the basket halfway along the path and waited, wondering why she did not arrive. Then she returned to the same place to look for the daughter-in-law and managed to see her before she transformed. She was sitting on top of a cut log. She had peeled off her entire scalp and had it over her legs, with her head completely bald. She was removing lice and crushing them with her teeth—tzuz!—biting them and eating them. It was ugly to see her like that. The mother thought, “What kind of animal is she? What kind of woman does my son have?” Frightened, she returned home carrying the basket. When she arrived, her son had already returned from the forest with many animals he had hunted and was beginning to prepare them. The mother was cooking, and the yuca she had brought was set aside. Then the son asked, “And my wife, where is she?” He said she would come later, that she had stayed there a little longer, and indeed she arrived afterward. The next morning, the husband reproached her, saying, “Why do you always arrive later? Only my mother prepares the food with what I bring from hunting. I am already tired of seeing that. If you arrived on time like my mother, you would help her make the chicha; it would be nice if you did that.” When he finished speaking, his mother said, “Son, what kind of animal is she? I saw her on top of a tree trunk, taking off her entire scalp and eating lice. I was afraid and came back home.” Even while he was talking, she continued giving chicha to her husband. When she heard those words, she poured the chicha into the pot and said, “They are talking about me; I am an agouti woman. Piwn, kim, kim!” At that moment she turned into an agouti, jumped, and ran away. Then it was known that she was an agouti. She went off through the forest and returned to live there. The husband was left frightened, not knowing where she had gone. That is how this story is.

Kichwa Translation

Chiga punzhana randiga paywa mamallawan shi tiagara chi runaga, chiga sachama purij ashka. Pukunawan sachama purij ashka; chasnay wayku chagara, wayku kasna tintuluta wayku. Chi urkuta payga riu aj ashka sachama puringawa; chi riuskayga ña tukuy uras chi paytaga. Payta rikusha chasna nisha purigara ña, chasna nisha kallpajtaman payga, nisha kallpajgan. Payga kallpausha runata rikusha, kallpaj ashka. Chiga chi riu runa rimarij ashka: ñuka warmima apanguima, nishashi nij ashka ñuka warmima apanguima, chagratacha gustuta asuachisha upisha tiayma nisha. Nishashi rimarin chi runaga musu aj ashka mamawan kausaj ashka; pay mamaga atun chagratacha charijgara. Chiga chasna rimarishashi rin puringawa; kuti shu uras kayandi riupiwas chayllashi piñasha kallpan punzhana. Chasna nisha kallpan: chiga ñuka warmimi chapanguima, chasnashi rimarisha puriun chi runa. Chiga ña kay kimsa kutin pay purishkay, ña chasnalla piñasha kallpaj ashka; chiga kutibi chuskuy chibiga ña. Rikujpiga pay vulltamuushkay; rukujpiga pay aychata wanchisha ña vulltamuushka pukunawan. Chiga shamuushkay rikujpiga aychataga kasnatashi wanchimun chi runaga, aparisha shamun. Rikujiga ruya sikiy chi pay piñasha kallpana; kuskallaytacha rikujpiga ruya sikiy. Ña kaywan pakta akchayuj shi gustu warmicha shayaushka. “Shayau ñuka kanwan shamuuni”, nishka. “Aku”, nishashi nishka, “kan ñuka warmi tukunata munashachu kasna shayangui”, nishashi nishka. “Ñuka luma yanga pashasha sirin, asuashami upiway shami”, nishashi ni chi wamita. Chiga asiskashi payga; asiska washa rishka chi nishka. “Ñukata apachiway”, nishashi nin. Pay aparisha riushkata kuway nin; pay warmi tukuusha chi aparin punzhanta chig kushka. Kujpi aparishka aparishaga ña warmindi yaykuyrishka wasiy; chiga pay mamaga chagramanda paktamushaga. Lumu shayachisha, papatawas shayachisha, mangay shayachisha; sumak lluchusha uchugunata tikishashi. Churita chapaun chi payba mama; chiga yaykuyrishka, ñambima rikushka. “Maymanda warmita kasna apamun”, nikchara churi; chasna yaykuyrijpiga, “alli rikushaga shamuylla kachun”. Nishashi nin: kallari timpu chasnashi niganaura ña mana riksishkamanda chasna yaykuchirikpi ña. “Kachun”, nishashi rimajanaura ña una sola, mana shinachu ñukanchi shina. Kunan timpu ñukanchi ninchi: churimi apamun, maymacha warmita apamun. Chiwasha irus kwintuta rangalla ñukanchi aylluyanchi. Ñuka chasna ayllullanay man ñuka churigunata chasna kunan timpu rimanchi. Pero randi pay kachun nisha recibik ashka. Chiga ña lumuta apangawa rishkay; ña pundalla parijulla puri anawra, mamawa parijulla sumak lumuta pilajpi. Chiga ña mamata sumak pilasha undachisha: “Kanga akungui, mama”, nisha cachak ashka. Chiga payga ña pundamandata chasna ara, punshana pundamandata. Chiga mamaga payga rukusamita; mays ruku asta kunangama chasna manchi kachun. “Ñuka washawalla shamungui”, nipis, “washawalla shamungui; ñuka riunimi mikuna imatánus yanuringa”. Ñawpa rinchi lumuta ashanga aprisha shamuj ashka. Shamusha ña pay sumak taj mana rikurij chaska; payga lumuta shayachin, papa mangata sayachirin, ima papachinata sayachirin. Mamaga, suegra mamaga, lumuta suraykuchin, takan ña mukun; chiwas mana mikun, chasna chagashka ña chasna chasna. Unay kawshashka ña chasna kawshashkay ally chawn. Chiga ña payga paktachiuhkay shamushaga: “Ñachu takaringui, mama”. “¡Auh! takaranimi”, nisha nin. Chiga chasna nijpi payga pays mukun, wayra shina mukun mukusha. Chiga mama yanushkata ña lluchunshi; chi pay mama kallanay chi sumak mukunata uchuwan tikirisha ña. Kari shamunaga chapaw payga; chiga chasna shamupiga azuwata upichin, chiwasha shuk mangay llapin upichisha, kawsaj ashkay chasna. Ña chakray chi mamawa chakra, atun chakra; chasna rasha pay purij ashka, chasna ashkay shi kariga shamusha ña ñawpata chiga. Nishkaya tutumanda ansallata kuti chakrama rishkay; chiga pay imashina yuyarira. Pay mamaga chasna nish ashami: “Ñukata ñaupa kachaga”. Ñuka sumak yanushkayga payga chishiy ikumunun. Kallari timpu ashash yuyayta charigara paywas. Chiga ashanganta chawpi churasha; imashasha mana shamugan nisha chapasha samasha tiashka ashangawa. Chiwasha rishka kutillata kachunda rukungawa: imangawa mana shamunga nisha. Chiga rikujpiga ña pay chasna tukunay. Ruya away tiarisha, atun ruya kuchushka away tiarishka ashka. Kayta uma karataga ¡wim! lluchurisha; kay churasha kayma lluchu chan. Imarasha chasna churarik aray, kuti llaktutu shina manshu nanagara payta imagara. Chiga chasna rarishaga: ziata ayzaum, ¡tuz!, ziata ¡tuz! Kanirishaga tiawn chi uzataga. Pay umakarataga kayma churarishaga; chi payga mikurisha tiawn uzata. Mana animaltaray kayga, imatata ñuka churi charik ashka, nishka yuyarisha. Pay kuti irus rikurishka, yura away tiasha sumak rikuriun ña. “¿Chiwasha siku animak kwinta?” ¡Auh! Kayta lluchurisha, shinarasha tiawn kayma kashka, aychawan awn pay. Kuti kayma uma karata lluchurisha, uzata mikuriun. Chi ally rikusha shayashkay ñuka kachun; mayta chi rira rikujpis. Ruya away chasna rarisha tiashka; chiga ally rikusha, mana ima warmita kayga charira. Chasna ashaga uyanak ashka; ally rikushka washa, ally pacha rikushka washa. Kuchilluga, kuchilluwaga ¡zath! waktasha ruya sikiga shayawsha; chiga chasma umata payga chasna rarisha, uzata mikurisha tiawn. Chiga chasna rikushka washaga mamaga vultimushka; vultimuj ashangawata aparij. Payga shamuj shugumaga iyariushka, shungumaga iyariushka chi pajtashkay. Pay churi pajtamushka sachamanda; rukujpiga ña mana kaylla wanchimun, pay chi wanchimupi apisha sumak ran. Payga ña yanun apawaga sumak lumu ashangata chima churasha. “Ñuka warmiga”, nisha tapusha shamun, ¡mjum! Mana shunshu washa shamuni nisha sakirira; mana shamunshu. Chiga pay shamushkay. Ña pay shamushkay ña punzha shara; ña punzha chi yangachu pandata rimana. Tutamanda chishka chunlla rikusha, chishiy chunalla rikushka. Chiga tutamanda chi kariga nira: “Kanga imata rashata chasna chishiy… shamu angui, mama, mamalla mikunata aparimun”. “Mamalla ñuka apashmuka yanun chasha rikusha”, aminimi nisha nira kari. Mamawa pajtak shamusha, mama pajtak azuwasha, mama pajtak imatas raupichu. “Allyga rikuringa”, nisha pay rimashka kari. Chasna pay rimajpi mama nishka: “Ima animalcha kayna aura, churi ruya away umatawas llambu lluchurishami”. Pay: “Ima arami, ñuka mansharisha vultiasha rikurijpi”, nisha rimashka. “Chasna tiaupi manshasha kayna shamurani”. Pay: “Ima ara uzutami mikurisha tiaura, pero umakarata lluchurishka mara”. Chiga chasna piñawpis azuwata upichun, karita upichunshi. Chasna nishkawa azuwata pay mangama: ¡tulun! Shitashka. Ñukatami punzhana warmi arani nijka: ¡piwn kim, kim! Punzhana tukusha, ¡punzhun!, kallpasha rishka. Ña puñuchik punzhana ashkay; ña chiga rishka ri. Chi sacha tukushka pay. Kari randiga masharishka, sakirishka maymas. Chasna man chi kwintu.

Spanish Translation

Le contaré sobre el agutí. Un hombre vivía solo con su madre y le gustaba caminar por la selva. Con una cerbatana solía internarse en el monte; había lugares con muchas laderas y montañas, y por allí caminaba con frecuencia, adentrándose cada vez más en la espesura. Mientras andaba por la selva, para que alguien le prestara atención, se escuchaban sonidos como: “¡ña, ña, kij, kij!”, y una figura corría haciendo ese ruido. Cada vez que él veía a esa persona, ella corría haciendo “¡tuk, tuk!”. Entonces él le decía: “Si fueras una mujer, te llevaría conmigo. Si fueras mi mujer, te llevaría; haríamos chacra y viviríamos tomando chicha”. Eso solía decirle, pues todavía era joven y vivía con su madre, quien tenía grandes parcelas de yuca. Después de gritarle así, se internaba nuevamente en la selva. Al día siguiente, al pasar cerca de ese mismo lugar, el agutí volvía a aparecer. Él salía corriendo por allí, repitiendo: “Si fueras mi mujer, te llevaría conmigo”. Así caminaba, diciendo esas palabras. Cuando ya llevaba tres días andando, le seguía hablando, y al cuarto día ocurrió algo distinto. Cuando regresaba de la selva, traía animales cazados con su cerbatana, muchos animales que cargaba consigo. Un día, al observar el tronco desde donde siempre salía corriendo aquella figura, notó algo diferente: era una mujer hermosa, con el cabello largo hasta las rodillas. Desde allí ella le dijo: “Quiero irme contigo”. “Vámonos”, le dijo él. “¿Por qué quieres ser mi mujer? Estás ahí parada”, le preguntó. Ella respondió: “Mis yucas ya se están pudriendo; vámonos, para que prepares chicha y me des de beber”. Ella solo sonrió y, después de reírse, dijo: “Déjame cargarlo a mí”. Al ver lo que él llevaba, insistió: “Dámelo a mí”, y como su mujer se ofreció a llevar la carga. Cuando él se la dio, ella la llevó, y juntos llegaron a la casa. La madre ya había regresado de la chacra; había cocinado la yuca y la papachina, y en la olla estaban preparadas con ají aplastado. La madre esperaba a su hijo y, cuando estaba por entrar, se quedó mirando hacia afuera. Pensó: “¿De dónde habrá traído esta mujer mi hijo?”. Al verla fijamente, le dijo: “Venga, pase, nuera”. Antes se decía así, incluso cuando no se conocía a la persona. Directamente se le decía “nuera”. Hoy en día decimos: “¿De dónde habrá traído esa mujer mi hijo?”, y empiezan los chismes, pero igual se la hace parte de la familia. Yo siempre les digo a mis hijos que ahora debemos conocer a la familia; sin embargo, ella la recibió llamándola “nuera”. Durante los primeros días salían juntas a sacar yuca. La nuera trabajaba junto a su suegra, le llenaba la canasta y le pedía que se adelantara. Desde que la conoció, la mamá la llamaba “nuera”, y por eso los mayores, hasta ahora, mantienen esa costumbre. Un día, la nuera dijo: “Yo vengo más después”. La suegra respondió: “Vendrás después, nuera; yo me adelanto a cocinar”. Los mayores se adelantaban cargando la canasta de yuca. La comida ya estaba preparada, pero la nuera no aparecía. La suegra ya tenía lista la yuca y la papachina; estaba aplastando y masticando la yuca, pero ella no llegaba. Así solía comportarse. Ya había pasado un tiempo viviendo de esa manera. La mamá pensaba: “¿Por qué siempre me dice que me adelante, si ella llega cuando ya está todo cocinado?”. Un día regresó al mismo sitio para buscarla y alcanzó a verla antes de que se transformara. Ella estaba sentada sobre un tronco talado. Se había pelado todo el cuero cabelludo y lo tenía sobre las piernas; su cabeza estaba completamente pelada. Se quitaba los piojos y los aplastaba con los dientes: “¡tuz!”, y así se los comía. Era feo verla así. La madre pensó: “¿Qué clase de animal es ella?, ¿qué clase de mujer tiene mi hijo?”. La observó con atención, con miedo, y luego volvió a la casa cargando la canasta. Cuando llegó, su hijo ya había regresado de la selva con muchos animales y comenzó a prepararlos. La madre estaba cocinando y la yuca estaba a un lado. Entonces el hijo preguntó: “¿Y mi mujer, dónde está?”. Él dijo que ella vendría después, y así fue: más tarde llegó a la casa. Al día siguiente, el marido le reclamó: “¿Por qué siempre llegas tarde? Solo mi mamá prepara la comida con lo que yo traigo de la cacería. Si llegaras a tiempo, la ayudarías a hacer la chicha”. Cuando terminó de hablar, su madre le dijo: “Hijo, ¿qué clase de animal es ella? La vi encima de un tronco, sacándose todo el cuero cabelludo y comiendo piojos. Me dio miedo y regresé”. Aunque él le hablaba, ella seguía sirviéndole chicha. Al oír eso, volcó la chicha en la olla y dijo: “De mí están hablando. Yo soy una mujer agutí. ¡Piwn, kim, kim!”. En ese momento se convirtió en agutí, saltó y se fue por la selva. Entonces se supo que ella era una agutí. Volvió a vivir en la selva. El marido quedó asustado, sin saber adónde se había ido. Así es este cuento.

Analysis

Not available