Zorro and Quwi, Tales of a Trickster Guinea Pig // Love and Roast Chicken: A Trickster Tale from the Andes Mountains

Zorro and Quwi

author: Rebecca Hickox

illustrator: Kim Howard 

Doubleday, 1997 

preschool-up 

Peruvian

Love and Roast Chicken

author: Barbara Knutson

illustrator: Barbara Knutson 

CarolRhoda Picture Books, 2004 

preschool-up 

Andean, Peruvian

In the Author’s Note for Zorro and Quwi, Hickox writes that she based her children’s book on a cycle of tales called “The Mouse and the Fox,” which she found in Folktales Found Around the World (Univ. of Chicago Press, 1975). She rewrote four of the tales, in which she substituted a guinea pig for the mouse. In Peru, she writes, Quwi is the hero of many trickster tales, although a rabbit or mouse is sometimes used instead. Since I raised guinea pigs as a girl and now have a daughter who raises and shows them through her 4H cavy group, I couldn’t resist making this personable (though perhaps not quite so cunning) little creature the hero.

In the Author’s Note for Love and Roast Chicken, Knutson writes that, in the two years that she and her husband lived in Peru, she “learned many stories, including trickster tales that reminded (her) of the ones (she) knew from Africa.”

Then she writes:

A trickster tale tells about a small animal (or a person) who uses brains instead of force to compete against bigger, fiercer characters. In the Andes, the trickster is often a little gray fox, but one story has a guinea pig hero. I have heard and read this tale many times in Spanish—in a lovely, old Bolivian book; from a Peruvian guide in a mountain town; in a Bolivian children’s magazine; and from our friend, Edwin Sulca, a Peruvian weaver. It was never told the same way twice! In this book, I have combined and rearranged my favorite versions.

To reiterate: Hickox switched the “hero” in her stories from a rabbit or a mouse to a guinea pig because she “couldn’t resist making this personable…little creature the hero.” And Knutson switched the “hero” in her story from a “little gray fox” to a guinea pig, and “combined and rearranged (her) favorite versions” of the stories she heard and read.

Here, as in many “trickster stories for children” written and published by cultural outsiders, the authors removed the stories from their cultural contexts and reinterpreted, trimmed and customized particular cultural concepts to fit their needs and those of their perceived child audiences.

But tricksters are not one-size-fits-all, not even within specific cultures. Some tricksters vary within cultures, depending on what a particular Indigenous storyteller is teaching. Some tricksters often use bad behavior to hint at good behavior. Some tricksters succeed and some fail. Some tricksters don’t try to overcome anything; they’re just deceptive characters.

Tricksters are not necessarily heroes. Some tricksters are downright dangerous and the lesson is to keep away from dangerous characters.

Some tricksters grow and some shrink. Some tricksters appear in human or animal form and some tricksters change forms. Some tricksters are half-human and half-spirit. Some tricksters can maintain more than one gender or switch genders.

A lot of what may currently be called “trickster” tales are actually Indigenous cautionary tales that have been passed down through the generations. Just about every culture has its own “bogeyman” or “cucuy” story to keep kids from misbehaving or wandering off. Children from within the cultures who hear these stories from their elders know, without being specifically told, that something’s up. 

For the most part, guinea pigs are prey animals. Their natural instinct is to hide, and they can be very fast. But they are not tricksters.

For authors who are cultural outsiders to read or hear some versions of particular “trickster tales,” take them out of their cultural contexts, keep some parts and toss the others, rearrange the events and mix in a few italicized Spanish words or phrases (such as “bueno,” “mi amigo,” and “¡ay, caramba!”)—and then overlay the values of their own cultural outsider versions onto the specific culture from which the stories originated (e.g., “from the Andes Mountains”)—is the definition of cultural appropriation. 

Zorro and Quwi, for instance, begins: “In the mountains of Peru there was once a fox called Zorro…” Children who speak Spanish will know that “zorro” is not the fox’s name—it’s the Spanish word for “fox.” (So, to a Spanish speaker, it would read like, “there was once a fox called fox.”) And “Quwi” is the Quechua word for “guinea pig.” Similarly, Love and Roast Chicken begins, “One day in the high Andes Mountains, Cuy the Guinea Pig was climbing up and down the paths…” Again, “Cuy” is not the guinea pig’s name—it’s the Spanish word for “guinea pig.”

Both characters—“Zorro the Fox” and “Tío Antonio the Fox” resemble Coyote from the old “Coyote and Roadrunner” cartoons, and Cuy / Cuwi, of course, are stand-ins for “Roadrunner.” As well, astute older readers will discern elements of Cuwi’s / Cuy’s tricks in “Brer Rabbit,” “Henny Penny,” “Billy Goats Gruff,” and probably more European tales. 

Although the bright, stylized artwork, composition and book design in both titles are vibrant and gorgeous and totally child-friendly, both Zorro and Quwi: Tales of a Trickster Guinea Pig and Love and Roast Chicken: A Trickster Tale From the Andes Mountains embody all the elements of cultural appropriation. They’re not recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 9/5/20)

Mediopollito / Half-Chicken

author: Alma Flor Ada

translator: Rosalma Zubizarreta

illustrator: Kim Howard 
Dragonfly Books, 1995
preschool-up
Mexican

On the double-page frontispiece, a Mexican mother and her son are sitting at a fountain, their shoes off, relaxing. The mother is gesturing as she begins to tell her son a story, and the little boy is taking it all in. In the background are rolling hills, a road, and several small houses and buildings—every one of them sporting a weather vane.

The story of Mediopollito—how weather vanes came to be—originated in Spain and, over the years, traveled to various Latin American countries. Alma Flor Ada writes that she heard it from her Cuban grandmother, who had heard it from her grandmother. Rather than setting the story in Spain, Alma Flor Ada chose to locate it in colonial Mexico.

Mediopollito is the story of a little chicken who’s born with one wing, one leg, one eye, half a beak, half a body and half a head. Mediopollito—“Half-Chicken”—is a vain, haughty little guy who looks down on everyone around him. One day, over his mother’s objections, he hops off, on one foot, to see the world.

In the old story, Mediopollito is an unlikeable, nasty little creature. He ignores his mother, he’s rude to everyone he meets, he picks fights with the other animals, and he’s really, really mean. On his trip to visit the king, the haughty chicken refuses to help those in need—water, fire, and wind. When he arrives at the palace, the royal cook tosses him into the pot for the king’s dinner. Here, Mediopollito gets his comeuppance from water, fire, and finally wind, who blows him up to the top of a church, where he becomes a weather vane, never to hurt anyone else’s feelings again.

In Alma Flor Ada’s kinder, gentler version, Mediopollito is vain, but not totally nasty. On his journey, when he encounters someone in trouble, he decides to lend a foot. So when he gets to the palace and the royal cook dumps him into the pot to boil him for the viceroy’s dinner, those he helped—water, fire and wind—return the favor and save his skin—literally. Wind blows him up to one of the towers of the palace, where he is able to see everything he wants, “with no danger of ending up in the cooking pot.”

Several other versions I’ve read are so cloyingly lesson-heavy that they’ve had me gnashing my teeth. But Alma Flor Ada’s story is none of this. Rather, Mediopollito is a well-told tale that works well with youngsters and adults who appreciate the style of a good storyteller.

With Spanish text on the left side and English on the right of each double-page spread, Kim Howard’s lush mixed-media art is rendered in festive colors, complementing both languages and lending continuity to the story. Rosalma Zubizarreta’s excellent Spanish translation has its own rhythm and cadence, so hablantes and English-speakers can follow along in their own language—or in both. Mediopollito is highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 6/5/13)