Being a Cryptozoology enthusiast isn’t a very easy hobby to
have. Cryptozoology is the study of creatures, whose existence is in question—either
extinct or a construct of the human mind—and if, in fact, “real” have yet to be
proven by modern science. Some popular examples in the field of Cryptozoology
are the legendary Bigfoot of the North Americas , The
iconic Loch
Ness Monster of Scotland, and the frightening Chupacabra (goat
sucker) of Puerto Rico and other Latin American
countries or humanoid hybrids such as the widely known Werewolf . The field has
real life examples of creatures—once believed a fabrication—proven to be part
of the natural world. Famous examples include the Okapi, the Coelacanth, and
the Mountain
Gorilla. When I was a kid stories of legendary creatures both
fascinated me and left me in a state of total fear. As much as I’d want to look
away from the television, or close my ears when my Uncle Joe spoke of the
“Snaggletooth” (later found out to be a complete and utter lie…Thanks Uncle
Joe) I just could not tune out. I was, and am, taken aback by the prospect of
mysteries still waiting to be explained, creatures lurking in the darkness,
legends made real. Sometimes I wonder if I actually want them to be “found” or
“discovered”. Why ruin the magic, the mystique, the undeniable linguistic
beauty of the stories told around campfire? The whole realm of “impossibilities
and improbabilities” gives me the chills. The chills of looming fear and the
chills of childlike wonder.
Now that I’ve been in El
Salvador for nearly four month, naturally,
these kinds of things are bound to come up. One of the first things I did when
I got to this country was look up Salvadoran folklore. I wanted to see if El
Salvador had its own Bigfoot, or Lake
Monster , or bloodsucking demon. I
did some research and found three very popular tales of amazement and terror.
The Siguanaba is a dreaded character in Salvadoran fantasy
and the reason behind many sleepless nights and nightmares for countless
children. The story goes like this.
The Siguanaba was originally was known as Sihuehuet—which
translates to beautiful woman. She had an affair with the son of the Pre
Columbian God Tlaloc and had a child by him. Tlaloc, enraged by this act,
cursed Sihuehuet turning her into the Siguanaba. She would be cursed to be forever
by the river’s edge and attract cheating husbands and promiscuous men to her
side. Once the man had come close enough, her true form would be revealed as a
horrifyingly hideous woman who would attack the man taking his soul and leaving
him lifeless.
Many people, men and woman alike, have claimed to see the
terrifying creature, and whether or not they actually believe what they’re
saying, or made it up for the sake of a good lesson, the story has been forever
engrained in my mind.
I haven’t met anyone personally who has claimed to have seen
the Siguanaba, but do you remember the son she had? It turns out that the
Siguanaba was a horrible mother. The product of this unholy affair between his
mother and the god is known today by the name Cipitillo. The Cipitillo was the
10 year old son of Sihuehuet (Siguanaba) and condemned by the gods to be 10
years old forever as punishment for his mother’s infidelity. His physical
appearance is that of a young fat boy with a large straw hat sandals and raggedy
clothes. He was and is a symbol of forbidden relationships and adultery but
some of his more humorous qualities have evolved over the years. Depending on
who’s telling the story he is mostly harmless, throwing small rocks at women
and being generally mischievous but not harmful.
My friend Hector—who I spoke about in my last post—recounted
an encounter he had with the Cipitillo. His story goes like this. It was late
one night and he was staying at his grandmother’s home. In the dead of the
night he hears a loud noise in the kitchen. He wakes his grandmother and asks
her what the noise could be. He describes the noise as being that of a pig
eating furiously. His grandmother picks up her lantern and lights it walking
toward the kitchen to investigate. A young Hector is behind his grandmother
terrified by the noises. When they enter the kitchen and his grandmother
directs the light in the direction of the noise a naked hairy boy is on the
table, hunched over and eating some of the left out food. The boy is furiously
eating and has some hair-raising features. His face is covered in hair; he has
crimson eyes and teeth protruding out of his mouth. They are cream soda white
and seem to be where his lips should be. As the lantern is shown on his face he
jumps down quickly and cowers under the table, letting out blood curdling
shrills. Hector’s grandmother picks up the nearest broom and proceeds to hit
the creature until it runs out of the house screeching into the woods. Hector
asked his “What was that abuela?” She responded “just the Cipitillo”.
I want to just discredit Hector’s story as him playing
around with me or some sort of sick twisted dream he may have had, but sitting
across from him, eye to eye, I got the sense that he truly believed what he
saw. This depiction of the Cipitillo is a drastically different account of the
standard story, but it makes me “ooh and ahh” at the possibility, however slim,
of this creature being a reality.
The last creature I found in my search is perhaps the most
frightening of all. It has hellish bloodshot eyes, a mouth full of razor sharp
canines, a powerful muscular body that grows when it senses fear, and appears
to weary travelers during the witching hour. I’m speaking of course of the evil
black dog-like creature known to locals as the Cadejo.
The Cadejo comes in many forms. Sometimes it is said to be
Satan himself, incarnate in a hellish dog form. More commonly it is seen as an
evil dog that can be seen lurking in dark alleys, graveyards and anywhere
shadows reign. The third type is a hybrid between the actual Cadejo and regular
dog. This version is the weakest but still potentially fatal if encountered.
My good friend and Salvadoran housemate, Nady, recounted a
story her grandmother told her all her life about an encounter she had with the
Cadejo. One night, as she was in bed, she heard the sound of many local chuchos
(street dogs) whimpering and crying loudly. The noise bothered her so much that
she awoke from her slumber and woke her husband to try to get him to go deal
with the noise. Her husband was too tired and honestly not really excited to
find out what was making the chuchos yelp so helplessly. Nady’s grandmother,
too annoyed by the sounds, decided to go outside and attempt to stop the ruckus.
As she opened the door to her house into the front dirt patio she saw all the
dogs whimpering on her left. They were petrified with fear and couldn’t move
other than to whimper. To her left she peered into the thick brush and made out
the shape of an unusually large black dog. It turned to her and the chuchos and
started making its way toward the door. It smelled like rotten eggs and let out
a hellish snarl. She picked up the branch of a palm tree that she had used to
sweet the floor of her home. She swung it violently at the creature and showing
no fear the creature retreated and made its way toward her daughter’s house,
where Nady was sleeping as a young girl. Her grandmother chased it until it
couldn’t be seen any more and returned to her house. The next day she armed
herself. She took garlic and holy water and spread it all over her home and
Nady’s home. She put it on the door, the palm broom and even the chuchos (which
probably smelled a hell of a lot better after the garlic bath). She was ready.
That night, like clockwork, at around midnight again she was woken by the chuchos. This time
they were barking bravely at something. When she opened the door this time, low
and behold, there in front of her was the evil Cadejo. She picked up her palm
and chased after it, whipping it furiously until it bled. The creature,
noticeably injured, limped into the surrounding woods. Since then she hasn’t
had any other encounters.
Nady told me this story as we were talking about the subject
of scary movies. So part of me wants to be skeptical of the facts here.
However, knowing Nady’s personality I wouldn’t peg her as someone who would
simply make this stuff up. She told me her mother typically has a good grasp on
reality and has a sense of when she’s being fed a story. Nady informed me that
even her mother seemed to be convinced this encounter actually happened.
Take it or leave it my friends. I don’t know what to believe
but for now I’ll choose to be thoroughly entertained and haunted by these tales.
These stories have been part of El Salvador ’s
culture for generations and are important to getting a full picture of all this
country has to offer. All its beauty, all its pain, and all its mystery.
Until next time,
Stay out of the woods, pull the covers up, and pray these
ghastly ghouls don’t want to chill.
Much Love,
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