© Nicole E. Zonderhuis
La Llorona, een naam uit de Mexicaanse folklore, het is de moeder die haar kinderen doodde uit jalousie omdat haar man meer liefde voelde voor hun kinderen dan voor haar. Toen ze besefte wat ze gedaan had, stierf ze van verdriet. Nog altijd dwaalt haar geest langs de rivieren op zoek naar haar dode kinderen. In wit gewaad sliert haar lange haren door het water en met haar rijzige vingers doorvoelt zij de wateren. Zij zal ook andere kinderen meenemen en soms zelfs mannen en vrouwen. Ieder Mexicaans kind zal ’s avonds uit de buurt van de rivieren blijven. Je weet maar nooit…
La Llorona is vaak beschreven en bezongen, maar de mooiste uitvoering is van Chavela Vargas (17.04.1919 – 05.08.2012). Haar stem is oud en bibberig, de stem en de kracht van The Crown.. de oude wijze vrouw!
Na een heftig leven, liefdes, verliezen,en een alcoholverslaving, zingt ze op het eind van het lied :
Wil je nog meer?!!
Toch heeft Chavela nog heel wat jaren moeten doorgaan… Ze is 93 jaar geworden.
La Llorona wordt vaak afgeschilderd als een gevaarlijke oude heks, maar in dit lied voel je de liefde. Het lied zit vol verwijzingen naar de oude relatie die vrouwen met La Llorona hebben. Ze is zowel een historisch persoon als een mythe, een godin zelfs, de godin van de dood en de kracht van de maan. Ze staat gelijk aan de oude godin Coatlicue van de Azteken; de moeder Godin met een rok van slangen, ze is wijsheid, leven en dood.
Zij was de eerste die weende, luid schreeuwde om het noodlottig lot van haar kinderen de Mexicas die gedood zouden worden door de conquistadores- de Spaanse veroveraars. Toen in een heftige strijd op 12 Oktober 1521 aan beide zijden 40.ooo mensen het leven lieten en het beeld van de Godin Coatlique van haar sokkel werd geschoten door een kanon van de Spanjaarden, schreeuwde zij.
Ook wordt gezegd dat La Llorona Malinche is, de minnares van Cortez en die uit liefde haar volk verraden heeft door Cortez te vertalen en hem alle geheimen over haar volk te vertellen. Ook zij weent om de dood van haar kinderen, haar volk.
Iedereen noemt me Zwart
Ik ben Zwart maar liefdevol
Is dit een verwijzing naar de Zwarte Madonna? Maar de oermoeder? Moeder Aarde, zwart als de modder, uh Mother?
Twee kussen draag ik in mijn ziel
Die nooit van mij scheiden
Mijn moeder krijgt de laatste
En jij, Llorona, aan jou gaf ik de eerste.
In het lied zingt Chavela Vargas.
“Tapame con tu rebozo, Llorona”
Wikkel me in je draagdoek, Llorona.
Want Llorona, ik sterf van de kou.
De Rebozo is een draagdoek van minstens 1,80 m lang die Mexicaanse vrouwen traditioneel dragen en alles mee vervoeren, hun kinderen en hun spullen. Ze kunnen hun emoties onder de doek verbergen en hem omslaan om zich te beschermen tegen de koude. Ze dragen hem tijdens hun huwelijk en het is ook je mooiste rebozo waarin je weer gewikkeld wordt als je sterft…
Nog altijd is de Rebozo onderdeel van het leven van elke Mexicaanse vrouw. Het wordt gezien als een heilig voorwerp, want deze doek bindt alles samen: geboorte, leven en dood…
(bron)
Hier vraagt Chavela aan La Llorona om haar als een kind dat vraagt aan haar moeder om de warmte van de draagdoek te geven, hier vraagt Chavela als oude vrouw aan de Godin van de dood om haar te dragen, want zij is moe, klaar…
Arme ik, Llorona, neem me mee naar de rivier.
Ik heb je mijn leven gegeven, Llorona,
Que mas quieres? Quieres mas?
Frida Kahlo met roze rebozo – die zelf uiteraard La Llorona was met al het leed in haar leven.
Vertaling van het lied:
The Weeping Woman (long version)
I don’t know what the flowers have, weeping woman,
The flowers in the graveyard
I don’t know what the flowers have, weeping woman,
The flowers in the graveyard
But when the winds sways them, weeping woman,
It looks like they are crying.
But when the winds sways them, weeping woman,
It looks like they are crying.
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, you are my yunca
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, you are my yunca.
They will make me stop loving you; weeping woman,
But they will never make me forget you.
They will make me stop loving you; weeping woman,
But they will never make me forget you.
To an iron Holy Christ, weeping woman,
I told my sorrows;
To an iron Holy Christ, weeping woman,
I told my sorrows;
What my sorrows would be, weeping woman,
That the Holy Christ wept.
What my sorrows would be, weeping woman,
That the Holy Christ wept.
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman in a field of lilies.
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman in a field of lilies.
The moon is a woman, weeping woman,
And the sun of Spain
Drinking walk the mountains, weeping woman,
Because the moon is cheating
I dreamed I was asleep, weeping woman,
Asleep you were quiet
But reaching oblivion, weeping woman,
I realized you woke up
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman in a field of lilies.
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman in a field of lilies.
He who doesn’t know about love, weeping woman,
Doesn’t know what martyrdom is.
He who doesn’t know about love, weeping woman,
Doesn’t know what martyrdom is.
Two kisses I carry in my soul, weeping woman,
That never part from me:
Two kisses I carry in my soul, weeping woman,
That never part from me:
My mother’s last one, weeping woman,
And the first I gave to you.
My mother’s last one, weeping woman,
And the first I gave to you.
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, take me to the river.
Poor me, weeping woman; weeping woman, take me to the river.
Cover me with your cape, weeping woman,
Because the cold is killing me.
Cover me with your cape, weeping woman,
Because the cold is killing me.
Everybody calls me the black, weeping woman,
Black but affectionate.
Everybody calls me the black, weeping woman,
Black but affectionate.
I am like the green pepper, weeping woman,
Hot but flavorful.
I am like the green pepper, weeping woman,
Hot but flavorful.
Poor me, weeping woman, weeping woman, weeping woman;
Take me to the river, cover me with your cape, weeping woman,
Because the cold is killing me.
If, because I love you, you want me, weeping woman,
You want me to love you more;
If I have already given you my life, weeping woman,
What else do you want? Do you want more?
Het hele verhaal over La Llorona
by Joe Hayes
This is a story that the old ones have been telling to children for hundreds of years. It is a sad tale, but it lives strong in the memories of the people, and there are many who swear that it is true.
Long years ago in a humble little village there lived a fine looking girl named Maria Some say she was the most beautiful girl in the world! And because she was so beautiful, Maria thought she was better than everyone else.
As Maria grew older, her beauty increased And her pride in her beauty grew too When she was a young woman, she would not even look at the young men from her village. They weren’t good enough for her! “When I marry,” Maria would say, “I will marry the most handsome man in the world.”
And then one day, into Maria’s village rode a man who seemed to be just the one she had been talking about. He was a dashing young ranchero, the son of a wealthy rancher from the southern plains. He could ride like a Comanche! In fact, if he owned a horse, and it grew tame, he would give it away and go rope a wild horse from the plains. He thought it wasn’t manly to ride a horse if it wasn’t half wild.
He was handsome! And he could play the guitar and sing beautifully. Maria made up her mind-that was, the man for her! She knew just the tricks to win his attention.
If the ranchero spoke when they met on the pathway, she would turn her head away. When he came to her house in the evening to play his guitar and serenade her, she wouldn’t even come to the window. She refused all his costly gifts. The young man fell for her tricks. “That haughty girl, Maria, Maria! ” he said to himself. “I know I can win her heart. I swear I’ll marry that girl.”
And so everything turned out as Maria planned. Before long, she and the ranchero became engaged and soon they were married. At first, things were fine. They had two children and they seemed to be a happy family together. But after a few years, the ranchero went back to the wild life of the prairies. He would leave town and be gone for months at a time. And when he returned home, it was only to visit his children. He seemed to care nothing for the beautiful Maria. He even talked of setting Maria aside and marrying a woman of his own wealthy class.
As proud as Maria was, of course she became very angry with the ranchero. She also began to feel anger toward her children, because he paid attention to them, but just ignored her.
One evening, as Maria was strolling with her two children on the shady pathway near the river, the ranchero came by in a carriage. An elegant lady sat on the seat beside him. He stopped and spoke to his children, but he didn’t even look at Maria. He whipped the horses on up the street.
When she saw that, a terrible rage filled Maria, and it all turned against her children. And although it is sad to tell, the story says that in her anger Maria seized her two children and threw them into the river! But as they disappeared down the stream, she realized what she had done! She ran down the bank of the river, reaching out her arms to them. But they were long gone.
The next morning, a traveler brought word to the villagers that a beautiful woman lay dead on the bank of the river. That is where they found Maria, and they laid her to rest where she had fallen.
But the first night Maria was in the grave, the villagers heard the sound of crying down by the river. It was not the wind, it was La Llorona crying. “Where are my children?” And they saw a woman walking up and down the bank of the river, dressed in a long white robe, the way they had dressed Maria for burial. On many a dark night they saw her walk the river bank and cry for her children. And so they no longer spoke of her as Maria. They called her La Llorona, the weeping woman. And by that name she is known to this day. Children are warned not to go out in the dark, for, La Llorona might snatch them and never return them.
Though the legends vary, the apparition is said to act without hesitation or mercy. The tales of her cruelty depends on the version of the legend you hear. Some say that she kills indiscriminately, taking men, women, and children — whoever is foolish enough to get close enough to her. Others say that she is very barbaric and kills only children, dragging them screaming to a watery grave.
When Patricio Lugan was a boy, he and his family saw her on a creek between Moraand Guadalupita, New Mexico. As the family was sitting outside talking, they saw a tall, thin woman walking along the creek. She then seemed to float over the water, started up the hill, and vanished. However, just moments later she reappeared much closer to them and then disappeared again. The family looked for footprints and finding none, had no doubt that the woman they had seen was La Llorona.
She has been seen along many rivers across the entire Southwest and the legend has become part of Hispanic culture everywhere. Part of the legend is that those who do not treat their families well will see her and she will teach them a lesson.
Another story involved a man by the name of Epifanio Garcia, who was an outspoken boy who often argued with his mother and his father. After a heated argument, Epifanio, along with his brothers, Carlos and Augustine decided to leave their ranch in Ojo de La Vaca to head toward the Villa Real de Santa Fe. However, when they were along their way, they were visited by a tall woman wearing a black tapelo and a black net over her face. Two of the boys were riding in the front of the wagon when the spirit appeared on the seat between them. She was silent and continued to sit there until Epifanio finally turned the horses around and headed back home, at which time she said “I will visit you again someday when you argue with your mother.”
In Santa Fe, New Mexico, the tall wailing spirit has been seen repeatedly in the PERA Building (Public Employees Retirement Association), which is built on land that was once an old Spanish-Indian graveyard, and is near the Santa Fe River. Many people who have been employed there tell of hearing cries resounding through the halls and feeling unseen hands pushing them while on the stairways.
La Llorona has been heard at night wailing next to rivers by many and her wanderings have grown wider, following Hispanic people wherever they go. Her movements have been traced throughout the Southwest and as far north as Montana on the banks of the Yellowstone River.
The Hispanic people believe that the Weeping Woman will always be with them, following the many rivers looking for her children, and for this reason, many of them fear the dark and pass the legend from generation to generation.
En wie meer wil weten..
De relatie tussen La LLorona, Malinche en Guadaloupe
vrouwencirkel 