There are Venezuelan legends that are easily found, that appear without much searching, such as La Llorona, El Silbón, Juan Hilario, among others. However, there are some that take a little more work to find, such as La Loca de Ejido (The Ejido Madwoman), but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a particular charm in the best style of gothic novels.
Until Death Do Them Part
This is one of the few legends that has a clear date: March 26, 1812, Holy Thursday of that year, the day an earthquake in Caracas claimed more than one life. It’s said that a young man lost his life in this event, and it was the point of origin for a spectre whose figure could still be seen in the city of Ejido, Mérida.
Ejido, Estado Merida, Venezuela [Lodewijk Vadacchino, Wikimedia Commons, CC 3.0]
According to legend, Lorenzo was a young man who inherited a large fortune after the death of his father. He came from a family with a lot of money, but that was not an obstacle for him to fall in love with a humble young woman, Marta.
Both families looked favorably on that relationship, and looked forward to the wedding of the two lovers. However, on a trip that Lorenzo had to make to Mérida, the fateful earthquake took place. Marta had to stay in Ejido to take care of her sick mother, while her beloved went with his respective mother.
Upon hearing the news, Marta went terrified to the capital city. The dead were countless. Tears bathed the ground, cries rose to the sky, and with the passage of time, her despair increased.
They had told each other many times that they wouldn’t leave each other. For both her and Lorenzo, it was unthinkable to live without the other, and they constantly promised to see each other again soon when they had to separate. Marta kept hoping that this would be another one of those times, but fate would be different.
Death had separated them before their time, since Lorenzo laid lifeless in his mother’s arms in the rubble. As they say, from that moment Marta lost her mind. She did not cry, she did not scream, nor did she collapse. But she began to walk without direction and without paying attention to those who called her. Some say that her spirit still wanders through that traumatic vision of her.
Healer’s Hell
It’s easy to see that this is a co-dependent love story where both members feel they are worthless without each other. However, it also talks about the most crushing kind of depression a person can experience.
Is it possible to die from a broken heart, from depression? Not long ago I heard about a case where an older man died of depression after so many deaths from COVID-19, including that of a good friend, my cousin’s paternal grandfather. I also know of the case of a mother “dead in life” after the murder of her son.
A person holding her head, appearing to be in anguish. [Kat Smith, Pexels]
The heart seems to be the strongest organ in the body, capable of recovering many times. But it is also the most fragile, obliterated when it receives certain blows. Not long ago, I too was recovering from several blows, one harder than the last, and the aftermath lasted for years.
My practice as a Witch began to focus on healing because that was exactly what I needed. It was what made me most desperate, that emptiness in my chest, which ate me from the inside without warning. Not knowing what to do with my own pain, I became the best counselor for my friends, family, I learned to put myself in the place of others, and use my energy to ask for their well-being.
A few nights ago, a good friend told me that he realized that he has a “very nice healing power.” “I’m developing it and it makes me feel very peaceful,” he told me.
“The most destroyed will always be the best healers,” I replied. “We’re the ones who best know what it is like to be down.” That phrase has stayed with me, and I think it will for a long time.
A hand above the ocean, perhaps submerging, perhaps emerging. [Stormspeaker, Unsplash]
Today, I feel much better about many things, although some aspects of my life still need attention. The work doesn’t end with closing some wounds, healing some blows. A healer is not always a light being, but rather an exorcist, a warrior, and even a murderer who is not afraid to go to his own hell to return victorious.
A healer knows hell firsthand, and that’s where his power comes from. Contrary to the Loca de Ejido, the healer knows how to use his pain, learn from it, and grow as an agent of change. That’s precisely what makes us so dangerous: we know how to find the wound and close it to get up and raise our kindred.
Some people look at me funny when I say that I practice Witchcraft, that my main interest is to heal, help others, and help myself, but that’s the least of it. I know my spectres, my demons. While I haven’t tamed them all, there are several that bow their heads to me.
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