Baila, Nana, Baila: Cuban Folktales PDF

# Baila, Nana, Baila # Dance, Nana, Dance ## Cuban Folktales in English and Spanish ### retold by Joe Hayes ### illustrated by Mauricio Trenard Sayago ## Yams Don't Talk ## Los Ñames No Hablan One year, a young couple harvested a lot of yams from their garden. Their food was made up of yams, rice...

# Baila, Nana, Baila # Dance, Nana, Dance ## Cuban Folktales in English and Spanish ### retold by Joe Hayes ### illustrated by Mauricio Trenard Sayago ## Yams Don't Talk ## Los Ñames No Hablan One year, a young couple harvested a lot of yams from their garden. Their food was made up of yams, rice, beans and an occasional chicken. They were very happy with their lives. They had enough yams to last them for a whole year. They stored their yams in a dry place under their house. That same afternoon, Jicotea, the mischievous turtle, went under the house to get out of the hot sun, and found the pile of yams. “Here's food and shelter in one place,” she thought and dove into the pile of yams. “ Maybe I'll spend the rest of my life here”. That evening the young couple decided to cook a chicken and make some yams to celebrate their good harvest. The man sat down to pluck the chicken and the woman went to pick out a big fat yam from the pile. Jicotea heard something, or someone, approaching her new home. Then she felt the yams above her moving. “Thief, scoundrel!” she roared. “Leave us where we are!” The poor woman was frightened. She ran inside the house. “The yams are talking,” she told her husband. "They don't want to be taken from the pile." The man just laughed. “The yams talk?” he said. “You're crazy. Everyone knows that yams can't talk. Come on. Pluck this chicken while I go find a yam.” The young husband crawled under the house and went towards the pile of yams. Once again, Jicotea heard someone approaching. As the man reached out and touched a yam, she cried out: “Thief, scoundrel!” she roared. “Leave us where we are!” The young man dropped the yam like it was snake and jumped back. “Wow! These yams really do talk. The king needs to know about this. “ The young man ran to the king's house “Your Majesty,” he said, “My yams talk! The yams I keep under my house can talk. They don't want to be moved from the pile” The king laughed. His big belly shook up and down “Young man, you're so innocent. The yams don't talk. “ “Your Majesty,” insisted the young man. “The yams under our house talk. My wife and I have both heard them. You need to hear it and decide what to do.” The king stood up. Surrounded by his servants, and his whole army marching behind him, the king followed the young man to his house. “Man,” the king instructed his chief servant, “Go get one of the yams. “ The servant reached out carefully and touched a yam. “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” The chief servant jumped back. The other servants, the king and all his soldiers did the same. “Bravest man,” the king said, “Take one of the yams from the pile.” The bravest man reached out and touched a yam. “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” The bravest man dropped the yam and ran back a hundred yards, and the whole army ran with him. “The yams can't talk!,” thundered the king, hitting the ground with his staff. “In my kingdom, the yams can’t talk.” “But these yams do talk! “ the chief servant and the young man reminded him. “Get Osain of Three Feet,” shouted the king. “The saint in the forest, he needs to help us with these talking yams.” The king’s soldiers ran searching for Osain of Three Feet. They found Osain of Three Feet. He had three arms, three feet, three eyes, three ears and walked around one-two-three, one-two-three. “The yams talk,” the king told Osain of Three Feet. “The yams don’t talk,” Osain of Three Feet replied. “Then you have to solve this mystery of these talking yams.” How much would you charge to solve this riddle? Osain of Three Feet asked for three silver plates the size of a full moon, three new pots, three roosters and three coconuts They brought him what he asked for. Osain of Three Feet reached out and touched a yam. “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” “Oh my,” said Osain of Three Feet, jumping back. “This is something for Osain of Two Feet to solve. He’s way older and wiser than I am He took the three silver plates, the three new pots, the three roosters, and three coconuts, and went off one-two-three, one-two-three. The king sent for Osain of Two Feet, who had two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears and walked one-two, one-two. “Osain of Two Feet,” said the king. “The yams talk!” “The yams don’t talk,” Osain of Two Feet said. As his payment for solving the riddle, Osain of Two Feet asked for two silver plates, two new pots, two roosters, and two coconuts. They brought him what he asked for. Osain of Two Feet reached out and touched a yam. “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” “Oh my,” said Osain of Two Feet, jumping back. “This is something for Osain of One Foot to solve. He’s way older and wiser than I am. He was old and wise even before I was born. “ Osain of Two Feet took the two silver plates, the two new pots, the two roosters, the two coconuts and went off. The king called on Osain of One Foot. He only had one arm, one leg, one ear, one eye and walked by leaning on a crooked staff - wiggle wiggle wiggle. “Osain of One Foot, “ said the king. “The yams talk.” “The yams don’t talk,” said Osain of One Foot, and touched a yam. “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” Osain of One Foot showed the king the yam. “Look, Your Majesty,” he said. “It doesn’t have a mouth, teeth, tongue or a tonsil." He laughed, and threw the yam back. He reached out and touched another yam. This time, the voice was louder: “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” Osain of One Foot laughed even harder. He touched another yam in the pile. The voice was fierce. “Thief, scoundrel!” “Leave us where we are!” Then the voice became desperate. “Thief…!” “Scoundrel…!” “Leave us… where … we are!” Osain of One Foot was shaking with laughter. He went to the bottom of the pile of yams. There she was - Jicotea, with her eyes tightly shut, trembling with anger. "You tricky Jicotea," Osain of One Foot told her. "I should have known it was you. " Osain of One Foot playfully hit Jicotea with his crooked stick until she broke into pieces. He spread the pieces all over. Osain of one Foot took a little bag of yams for himself and then went off wiggle-wiggle-wiggle. The king and his servants followed him. The whole army marched behind them. The young man chose a yam for his wife to finish making dinner. Late that night, the young husband was woken up by a faint scratching sound outside his house. It was the mischievous turtle, Jicotea, slowly putting all the pieces of her body back together. Once she was all put back together, she crawled off into the forest. At the edge of the forest, Osain of One Foot was sitting by a fire, smoking his pipe. “Hello Jicotea. Good to see you,” he said. “Don’t you go causing any more trouble. How about we have a little chat and smoke,” he said. Jicotea and Osain of One Foot sat by the fire all night long, chatting and joking. They told each other a lot of stories. Maybe they even told the story I've just told you.