One of the many things I love about this country are the WTF moments that seem to occur so regularly, when you see something that just doesn’t make any sense, like throwing eggs and flour at kids who have just graduated university (fear not faithful readers, I shall look into this), or when Cristina became president and everyone scratched their heads and looked at each other with an “It wasn’t me” look on their faces (this might be just a bit of wishful thinking. Anyways, today’s post is about explaining the WTF moment when you’re driving through Argentina and find water bottles and red ribbons by sanctuaries on the side of the road. They are connected to two of the most fascinating and interesting figures of Argentine mythology, or superstitious bullshit as I like to call it, the Gauchito Gil and the Difunta Correa (literally translated into ‘Gil the little Gaucho’ and the ‘deceased Correa’).
Let’s start with the Gauchito Gil, shall we? Gil, some say, was a sort of Argentine Robin Hood, only he wasn’t a red fox with a “mucama” called Marion (damn you Disney for giving me fake illusions about talking animals), stealing from the rich and giving to the poor (and since he was a good Argentino, probably keeping 70% for himself). The legend of Gil is based on a real gaucho called Antonio Mamerto Gil Núñez, whose origin is debated but historical records agree he was murdered in Corrientes in 1878. One version of Gil’s myth claims that Gil was a rural gaucho who fell in love with a rich widow (emphasis on rich, and he was probably ‘in love’ with her money. Remember, he was an Argentino!) but he got in trouble because the local constable (Sheriff of Nottingham much?) was also trying to get in her pants- Sorry, I meant to say in love. Because Gil was in danger he joined the army and left to fight in Triple Frontier War (makes total sense, right? Join the army to escape danger. These gauchos might make for some hot calendars, but they’re not the brightest bulbs in the tanning bed, huh?). Okay, so he returned from the War but got caught up in the Civil War in Corrientes (which, being a good porteño, I have never heard about), but later deserted the Liberal party he had joined. So now Gil had enemies in the constable and his lackeys, the Liberals who were pissed he had left and whoever the Liberals were fighting. Eventually Gil was captured by his enemies (doesn’t specify which enemy, but maybe they started a Facebook group to pool their resources or something), and he was hung from a Carob tree by a foot, and his throat was slit. Before the slitting though, Gil told his executioner, who had a sick son, to pray for the kid in Gil’s name (either Gil was kind of psychic since he knew about the guy’s sick son, "maybe it was like ESPN or something," or maybe Gil was a gossip queen and just knew everyone’s business). Basically the kid recovered miraculously (Praise the Lord-! I mean, the Gauchito!), so the executioner returned to Gil’s body and gave him a proper funeral, and news of the miracle recovery travelled fast. The spilling of innocent blood was believed to have mumbo-jumbo powers at the time and a Gil cult of personality expanded throughout Argentina, and the red ribbons people tie to trees and leave in sanctuaries are placed by people who go to pray for him, red meaning the spilt blood (duh).
Moving on to the Difunta Correa. She was called Dalinda Antonia Correa, and her story also has a kind of shitty ending (for her, I mean): Correa’s husband, Clemente Bustos, was conscripted into the army at the time of the Argentine Civil War between the “unitarios” and the “federales”, which made Correa, anxious and worried over her husband’s poor health, seek to be reunited with him and ask for clemency on his behalf. Correa took her baby and followed the tracks of the army through the San Juan desert, taking with her only a few loaves of bread and two bottles of water. Okay, I need to get this off my chest: I’m all for the sob stories, but seriously, you’re crossing a desert and that’s all you take!? Seriously!? Bitch is just asking for trouble, in my opinion. Anyways, Correa ran out water in the desert (duh), and she took her baby to her breast and lay in the shade of a Carob tree (Note: same tree as Gil. Remind me stay far, far away from these trees), and there she died of thirst, hunger and exhaustion. Sad? Yes. Predictable? Very. The next day (bad timing much?) a troupe of soldiers, who had been neighbours of Correa, discovered her dead body, but the baby was miraculously alive, still suckling from Correa’s flowing breast (how’s that for poetic imagery?). The fate of the child is disputed, some say he grew up to walk over water and raised the dead- No, wait, that was the other miracle baby. Some say the soldiers took the baby but he died soon after and the soldiers returned him to the Carob tree to be buried next to his mothers while others say the child lived a long life. News of Correa’s devotion (a.k.a lack of any common sense) and her arduous journey spread quickly, and many people began to go on pilgrimage to her tomb, which became a sanctuary. Around Argentinia it is common to see small shrines in her honour on the sides of roads, and truck drivers in particular, who have long journeys ahead of them, leave plastic bottles with water (recycling be damned, apparently) in the shrines so Correa will protect them on their journey, a token of worship to the brave woman who died of thirst (and stupidity).
To the “gauchos”, “gauchas”, “difuntos” and “difuntas”, and anyone stupid enough to believe this
El Pendejo Porteño
PS: Anyone else left wondering what happened to the rich widow in Gil’s tale? Did she marry the evil constable? Did she kill herself upon hearing about Gil’s death? Did she take her money and head to Las Vegas? Questions, questions…
PS2: Kudos to anyone who noticed the “Mean Girls” and “Juno” quotes
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