The Tiger of Sumpul

He was there. Black under the branches, the sinister face dotted with moonlight. He was clearly distinguished by the three guara feathers that he wore on his forehead; he was the Tiger del Sumpul (figure 1), that lonely and lost river that creeps under rocks and among roots, the river of crimes that have been stained so many times in blood and has heard so many cries of anguish and pain. A river of corpses and bones!

Figure 1. The Tiger of Sumpul. ¹

Right there, that man who hid behind the trunk of that gnarled tigüilote had robbed the travelers and had paid their margins with blood. He was of Mayan origin. He had been raised in the mountains, in the high mountains of Chalatenango, where the Pipil Confederation had stopped the advance of Ulmec imperialism. From the upper Cayaguanca to the gloomy Sumpul, he had traveled committing crimes.

On the roadside he burned a mixture of "tapa" (datura) and tobacco leaves, the smoke of which produces sleep, delirium, and instantaneous physical weakness; he made his victims fall by means of that violent daturine poison.

Who knows under what circumstances he was now in Pipil lands. And he was still the criminal of before.

It was quite late at night. The silence magnified the noise of the lizards that ran.

And there were footsteps extinguished by the dust of the trail. A mancebo was advancing. A beloved Indian of the whole village, Malinalli (twisted herb). In the light of the moon, he was seen, crossed on his chest, the valuable tissue of chinchintor skin, which he used to always wear, he came distracted, singing an old song, close to the fatal tigüilote.

Behind the gnarled trunk, the Tiger of sumpul prepares his blowgun, a long reed with which he shoots poisoned darts.

He aims, and the moment Malinalli passes in front of the tree, he blows into the blowgun.

And the young man fell. The poison, perhaps too old, did not produce its immediate effect, because the Indian was able to defend himself for some time without nerve paralysis making it impossible. After a short flight, the Tiger of the Sumpul took out an obsidian blade, and under the innocent gaze of Metzti, he plunged it into the chest of his victim. The blood came out, staining the ground, and with a violent gesture tore off the chinchintor skin tissue he was wearing on his chest.

And he fled from the place.

The disappearance of Malinalli caused much sorrow in the village. All assured that he would be avenged by his nahual: a furious Masacuat snake that, according to some, bore the sign of a large white spot on its black back.

Time passed.

The Tiger of the Sumpul had fled from Pipil lands, frightened by the frequent encounters he had with a long Masacuat, with a white spot on the black back. It is now on the rock of Cayaguanca.

It was night. The moon strolled over the silent jungle. From the neighboring mountains came cold air.

On the edge of a short hillside, among a sparse group of trees, walked a man with an arrow on his shoulder. On the trunk of a gnarled tigüilote, the moon drew on the ground the figure as of a moving branch. The man advanced, and as he passed in front of the tree, something lengthened, quickly rolling up his neck. A scream was heard. There, against the tree, was a man squeezed to the trunk.

Suddenly he was free.

And a corpse rolled down the bare slope.

On his forehead were distinguished three feathers of guara.

He rolled, rolled down the short hillside, under the childish gaze of the moon.

A snake came off the trunk.

He quickly slid down the trail.

A large white spot was distinguished on its black back.

Translated from the book Mitología de Cuzcatlán from Miguel Ángel Espino.
Location: Chalatenango, El Salvador

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