The Legend of El Perdido Cristobal

Perdido Bay, Florida ca. 1528

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It does no good to learn to read or write the letters of the Spaniards. Padre Juan has taught me to speak their tongue, though (he did so I could finish my catechism). So, as I say these words, he writes them down. The Padre says they will be recorded into the annals of our Mission San Luis and can be read by future padres as an antecdote or an account.

Let this be an account of how I lost my name and was found by the second shepherd, the Good Shepherd. But the first shepherd who came to our kǎpɔ--or village was a bad shepherd. After his coming and coming back, the people of my village cast me out like a scapegoat.

This bad shepherd was a Tšupali or Spanaird, a conquistador, part of Narvaez’s expedition and had become perdido from the main party after their shipwreck. Everywhere the Spaniards went they brought timi and yaka—death and disease. Hinu—the people—thought them Ine because they rode strange creatures—the eka—and wore ‘inu’ which was stronger than shell or stone. Only arrows tipped with shark teeth could pierce this ‘inu’.

But Ine was supposed to be good and kind and just. These Spaniards were more like ya-ahles from the deepest parts of the earth.

They came to our kǎpɔ--village--when the atchi-ninak was coming up and the atchi-lachepa was going down. There were three of them, two conquistadors with strange weapons—short ichapas with arrows, tananbos—long sticks that shot out thunder, and bachepos longer than any of ours.

Our shawlini, Billa Attak, thought he could deal with the Spaniards like any other tribe, but they threatened to yowha everyone if we didn’t give them oke to drink and pasca and maise to eat. I told Billa Attak there were more of us than them and we could tonaatʼa them with ropes.

But Billa Attak was scared of their weapons. One conquistador had yaka and that made him misila. The second conquistador was sinuk and needed to kana. I told everyone we could tonaat’a the Spanairds while they were waha, but the shawlini said they were ‘osi and might yowha some of us.

The third attak was not a Spaniard. He was a Timucuan the conquistadors had made a slave. He told the Spaniards every word we said and lied worse about us. The Spaniards became very sinuk and took my wife and Billa Attak’s ose as captives.

The Spaniards always bana ke. When we said we had no ke, they did not believe us. They had a rattle made of ke they took from the last village. They had round pieces of ke. The conquistador who always sinuk—mad--showed me a round piece he wore on a string. The slave said it was the medal of San Cristobal who had carried their Christ god on his back.

The conquistoradors said to give them ke or we could tell them where to find ke and they would take a just a little oki, Kankan, pasca, and maize and leave. If we didn’t, they would put our kǎpɔ--village—to lowack.

The shawlini told the Spaniards there was a sacred oki further inland and that I could lead them. There they would find ke on the shores. Billa Attak told me to lead the conquistadors far away and escape during the night. They would never find their way back, but it was osi to do so because someone would meet timi.

Only one conquistador—the sinuk one—would go. The sick one stayed with their slave to keep watch over the captives.

I led the conquistador into the brush far from the village. There was no sacred oki, only a haka that was a place of great ‘osi. The haka is full of sand and mud. It has tchuntchoupa, sapantak, and saintu-oulou. One will drown and eat you, one will bite your skin, and the last will bite your ankle and make you swell.

When we got there, the conquistador got yaka. He became so waha, he made me carry him across his back through the bad part of the haka saying I was now Cristobal and he their Christ god. But tchuntchoupa came at us with their great teeth and tail. To get away, I threw the conquistador off. He started to sink as he screamed.

When I got back to the village, the other conquistador had hilo from yaka and the slave had run away. The hinu fought over the pieces of ke, so I dragged the mamani Spaniard back to the haka.

That should have been the end of it.

But some of the hinu saw the sinuk Spanaird in the morning saying he would pissa into their tchouka, but when the hinu would run outside, no one would be there. They would see him at night. His nichekine had turned loussa. And he was still sinuk. Everyone was scared and thought he was a ho’ka. But bachepo would be taken and Kankans found with their heads cut off, their meat wasted.

The Spaniard had become worse than a ho’ka. It was now a monokpa and would cause much ‘osi and timi, too.

The hinu wanted the shawlini to make the monokpa go away and leave the village alone. So, Billa Attak made me take him to the haka where the Spaniard had sunk. We went there and waited for the atchi-lachepa to go down and the atchi-ninak to come up.

The sinuk Spanaird came. His nichekines were loussa and his skin was atta. He made the shawlini ride on his back across the bad part of the haka, like the San Cristobal medal. The shawlini screamed as they both sank into the mud.

I ran back to the village.

The death of the Spaniard conquistador my village did not put blame on me, but the death of Billa Attak they put on me. They elected a new shawlini and as punishment he had the hinu take my nichekines. Blinded, they cast me out.

I begged from village to village. Sometime later, I was guided to the Mission San Luis. There I was taken in by Padre Juan De San Marcos. He gave me tasks to do and taught me my catchecism. I was baptized into the faith some thirty years on after Navraez’s failed mission had brought us their pitiful survivors and their lust for ke and murder in their hearts.

But as it was one Cristobal that had cost me my old life and took the life of the shawlini--mayor, it was Christ’s grace, through my being taught by Padre Juan, who gave me back my name. Now I am known in the Parrish as Perdido Cristobal.

For I have carried a Cristobal on my back, and I watched that Cristobal sink into the bog with Billa Attak on his back. Now I wear a St. Cristobal’s medal of my own given to me Padre Juan de Marcos on my completion of my catechism.