Here Comes the Bogeyman
The little girl, around five or six years old, was spending the evening like most other evenings. Playing in the living room while her parents were sitting and watching the television. The only light was the flickering silver blue light from the black and white television between two front windows, opposite the open archway leading to the dining room. The parents believed in saving energy and keeping the electricity bill as low as possible. Through the archway, the girl could see through the dining room to the little square hallway off which opened the bathroom, her bedroom, and the kitchen in front. She wanted to go play in the kitchen, under the table, pretending it was her little house, as she had been doing earlier, until her parents had turned off the light and gone into the living room. She had followed them, but now she was bored and wanted to resume the earlier play.
She started to walk into the living room. Her mother asked where she was going. The girl replied with her intentions. To dissuade her, her mother replied with a time-worn explanation given to children, "No, don't go. If you go, the cocón will come and take you. Stay here with us." Curious, and with a growing suspicion of the dark dining room and darker kitchen, the little girl asked what the cocón was. Her mother explained that it was a bad man that would steal children who wandered off into the dark. That did it. The little girl stayed where she was.
That little girl was me, a long time ago. From that time on, I was scared of the dark, and always imagined the cocón as a version of the Grim Reaper, wearing a long dark cloak with a large hood covering its face. But my mother didn't just invent something on the spur of the moment to keep me from turning on another light. The cocón exists - in legend. Depending on where you go it has different names, cocón, coco, cuco. It has been used to frighten children into being obedient for ages. It's even older than the more commonly heard hombre del saco, or home do saco. Or the sacauntos common in some areas of Galicia, generally in the province of Ourense.
Both these last entities are supposed to be based on real people that committed atrocious crimes. The hombre del saco is based on a murder that happened in the little town of Gador in Almería, in 1910. There was a man gravely ill with tuberculosis who was determined to find a cure. His name was Francisco Ortega, nicknamed El Moruno. He was sent to a barber and curandero (a person who is supposed to be very intuitive to the body and who uses natural remedies), Francisco Leona, who also had a shady past. The bloody barber said the only remedy possible was to drink the warm blood of a healthy child, and to spread its fat on his chest. El Moruno accepted, and paid Francisco Leona three thousand reales (a healthy amount for the times) to bring him a child.
Francisco Leona set out with an accomplice, Julio, another ne'er-do-well. On the 28th of June they found seven-year-old Bernardo, who had been playing with friends. While the conspirators awaited a chance to catch one of them unawares, Bernardo separated himself from his friends and sealed his fate. The conspirators caught him and stuffed him in a sack. They took him to an isolated shack and advised El Moruno that the remedy had arrived. Once they were all gathered, Bernardo was taken from the sack, and he was cut under his arm. His blood was collected in a glass, which El Moruno then drank. Afterwards, they dashed the child's head with a large rock. When he was dead, the barber slit his belly open, and cut out his fat. Wrapping it in a rag, he put it, still steaming, on El Moruno's chest. Once finished, they buried the body in a ravine, and left.
The horrific and grisly murder came to light because there is no honor among thieves or murderers. The barber had promised his accomplice fifty pesetas, but when everything was done, refused to pay. Julio, the accomplice, decided to get back by going to the Guardia Civil. He told the officers he had found the body of the missing boy while out rabbit hunting. Since they were suspicious of the barber for his history, they arrested him. The barber implicated Julio, and the game was up. The three were condemned to die by garrote vil. (This was how criminals were executed in Spain right up until capital punishment was abolished in the 1970's. It was not a pleasant way to die.)
The sacauntos (belly fat remover) threat is quite widespread throughout Spain, but in the province of Ourense, it refers to a specific person, Manuel Blanco Romasanta. He became quite famous in the nineteenth century after he had been arrested and his crimes came to light.
Manuel was born in 1809 in a village in the province of Ourense, the seventh son of a poor family, but with sufficient resources that he learned how to read and write (once upon a time education was strictly for the rich). From the beginning there was something strange about him. He had been christened Manuela and inscribed as a girl. But as he grew, he was considered a man and called Manuel. There were enough studies of him done while imprisoned that from the documents it's been determined that he must have suffered from pseudohermaphroditism, a condition that began with Manuel as a girl, but with hormonal conditions that caused masculinization to occur. In those times it would have been enough to have ostracized anyone.
He became a peddler and travelled from Ourense to Leon, Portugal, and back to Ourense. Along the way he left a trail of dead women and young children. Most of them had claw and tooth marks and seemed to have been eaten. Manuel was arrested, and confessed that he turned into a wolf and had attacked his victims in that form. He was accused of killing thirteen people. His death sentence was commuted to life in prison after a psychiatrist petitioned the Queen to be able to use Manuel as a hypnosis subject to learn more about licanthropy. Manuel died a couple of years later, from what was labelled stomach cancer. The legend had it that after killing and eating part of his victim, Manuel would open the belly, take out the fat, and then sell it in Portugal. And so he became the Galician sacauntos.
In Extramadura there are other bogeymen. Especially along the Guadiana river. There, the legend of the Barquero del Colmillo (the fanged boatman) is very well-known. The boatman is supposed to wear a hooded cloak, and patrol the shores of the river standing in shallow boat, propelling it with a long stick. The only part of its face that has ever clearly been seen is one, long, fang. It's supposed to be on the lookout for any child that wanders by itself down to the water's edge. If it finds one, it brings it into the boat and then, with the fang, bites it and drinks all its blood, leaving the lifeless body drifting in the river. The obvious object of parents in the area was most likely that of keeping their children away from the river and any possible drowning accident. It worked.
All these legends, and more, have always been used by parents to keep children from exploring outside the established limits. It was a way of curbing curiosity and independence. As well as a way of keeping them safe from strangers. Most strangers will not hurt a child, but, sometimes, monsters will come along. Through these legends parents, and society, have used the one human emotion that conditions the most: fear. Before my mother warned me about the cocón, I wasn't scared of the dark. Afterwards, there was no way I was going into a dark room without turning on all the lights along the way. So, in the end, my mother's plan to keep the electricity bill down backfired. And the use of fear on society will also backfire, eventually.
She started to walk into the living room. Her mother asked where she was going. The girl replied with her intentions. To dissuade her, her mother replied with a time-worn explanation given to children, "No, don't go. If you go, the cocón will come and take you. Stay here with us." Curious, and with a growing suspicion of the dark dining room and darker kitchen, the little girl asked what the cocón was. Her mother explained that it was a bad man that would steal children who wandered off into the dark. That did it. The little girl stayed where she was.
That little girl was me, a long time ago. From that time on, I was scared of the dark, and always imagined the cocón as a version of the Grim Reaper, wearing a long dark cloak with a large hood covering its face. But my mother didn't just invent something on the spur of the moment to keep me from turning on another light. The cocón exists - in legend. Depending on where you go it has different names, cocón, coco, cuco. It has been used to frighten children into being obedient for ages. It's even older than the more commonly heard hombre del saco, or home do saco. Or the sacauntos common in some areas of Galicia, generally in the province of Ourense.
Both these last entities are supposed to be based on real people that committed atrocious crimes. The hombre del saco is based on a murder that happened in the little town of Gador in Almería, in 1910. There was a man gravely ill with tuberculosis who was determined to find a cure. His name was Francisco Ortega, nicknamed El Moruno. He was sent to a barber and curandero (a person who is supposed to be very intuitive to the body and who uses natural remedies), Francisco Leona, who also had a shady past. The bloody barber said the only remedy possible was to drink the warm blood of a healthy child, and to spread its fat on his chest. El Moruno accepted, and paid Francisco Leona three thousand reales (a healthy amount for the times) to bring him a child.
Francisco Leona set out with an accomplice, Julio, another ne'er-do-well. On the 28th of June they found seven-year-old Bernardo, who had been playing with friends. While the conspirators awaited a chance to catch one of them unawares, Bernardo separated himself from his friends and sealed his fate. The conspirators caught him and stuffed him in a sack. They took him to an isolated shack and advised El Moruno that the remedy had arrived. Once they were all gathered, Bernardo was taken from the sack, and he was cut under his arm. His blood was collected in a glass, which El Moruno then drank. Afterwards, they dashed the child's head with a large rock. When he was dead, the barber slit his belly open, and cut out his fat. Wrapping it in a rag, he put it, still steaming, on El Moruno's chest. Once finished, they buried the body in a ravine, and left.
The horrific and grisly murder came to light because there is no honor among thieves or murderers. The barber had promised his accomplice fifty pesetas, but when everything was done, refused to pay. Julio, the accomplice, decided to get back by going to the Guardia Civil. He told the officers he had found the body of the missing boy while out rabbit hunting. Since they were suspicious of the barber for his history, they arrested him. The barber implicated Julio, and the game was up. The three were condemned to die by garrote vil. (This was how criminals were executed in Spain right up until capital punishment was abolished in the 1970's. It was not a pleasant way to die.)
The sacauntos (belly fat remover) threat is quite widespread throughout Spain, but in the province of Ourense, it refers to a specific person, Manuel Blanco Romasanta. He became quite famous in the nineteenth century after he had been arrested and his crimes came to light.
Manuel was born in 1809 in a village in the province of Ourense, the seventh son of a poor family, but with sufficient resources that he learned how to read and write (once upon a time education was strictly for the rich). From the beginning there was something strange about him. He had been christened Manuela and inscribed as a girl. But as he grew, he was considered a man and called Manuel. There were enough studies of him done while imprisoned that from the documents it's been determined that he must have suffered from pseudohermaphroditism, a condition that began with Manuel as a girl, but with hormonal conditions that caused masculinization to occur. In those times it would have been enough to have ostracized anyone.
He became a peddler and travelled from Ourense to Leon, Portugal, and back to Ourense. Along the way he left a trail of dead women and young children. Most of them had claw and tooth marks and seemed to have been eaten. Manuel was arrested, and confessed that he turned into a wolf and had attacked his victims in that form. He was accused of killing thirteen people. His death sentence was commuted to life in prison after a psychiatrist petitioned the Queen to be able to use Manuel as a hypnosis subject to learn more about licanthropy. Manuel died a couple of years later, from what was labelled stomach cancer. The legend had it that after killing and eating part of his victim, Manuel would open the belly, take out the fat, and then sell it in Portugal. And so he became the Galician sacauntos.
In Extramadura there are other bogeymen. Especially along the Guadiana river. There, the legend of the Barquero del Colmillo (the fanged boatman) is very well-known. The boatman is supposed to wear a hooded cloak, and patrol the shores of the river standing in shallow boat, propelling it with a long stick. The only part of its face that has ever clearly been seen is one, long, fang. It's supposed to be on the lookout for any child that wanders by itself down to the water's edge. If it finds one, it brings it into the boat and then, with the fang, bites it and drinks all its blood, leaving the lifeless body drifting in the river. The obvious object of parents in the area was most likely that of keeping their children away from the river and any possible drowning accident. It worked.
All these legends, and more, have always been used by parents to keep children from exploring outside the established limits. It was a way of curbing curiosity and independence. As well as a way of keeping them safe from strangers. Most strangers will not hurt a child, but, sometimes, monsters will come along. Through these legends parents, and society, have used the one human emotion that conditions the most: fear. Before my mother warned me about the cocón, I wasn't scared of the dark. Afterwards, there was no way I was going into a dark room without turning on all the lights along the way. So, in the end, my mother's plan to keep the electricity bill down backfired. And the use of fear on society will also backfire, eventually.
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