LEGEND OF INDIA TIBISAY AND CACIQUE MURACHÍ

Friends of steemit, I am going to tell you a little about a great legend that is symbolism for the city of Mérida Venezuela.

The Indian Murachí was an agile, leader and courageous man, of the Indians of the tribe; They say that he stood out among the strongest, and not to mention his arrow the most accurate and his plumage the most showy. When they touched the snail on top of the hill, his companions wielded weapons and followed him, giving savage cries sure victory for the trust that this man brought to the tribe.

Murachí as a good warrior man and leader was the first leader of the Sierras Nevadas Merideñas his precious and beloved Tibisay, was slender, with a dark color, big and melancholy eyes and abundant hair. They were for her the best canvases of the Mirripuy, the finest gold of Aricagua and the plumage of the rarest bird of the mountain, in itself it translated into a beautiful woman who radiated beauty wherever she was.

She had become a warrior more so that she had learned, better than her companions, the warrior songs and praises of Ches. In the treats and dances he let his voice be heard, a sweet and rhythmic hour, a rapt and vehement hour, exalted by wild passion.

Everyone in their rituals heard it in silence, it was so beautiful to sing that not even the wind moved the leaves. Tibisay was the princess of the Indians of the sierra, she was the flower, the rose, the lily, the most beautiful lily of the vegas of the Mucujún, a sector of the Andean páramos. One day she left scared from her hut and went to introduce herself to Murachí, the beloved of her heart. For some Indians who wanted to harm him, in that Murachí and his tribe prepare their bows for war and shouted "Flee, flee, Tibisay, we are going to fight." Zuhe's terrible sons have already appeared on those frightening animals, more light as the arrow: tomorrow our soil will be invaded and our crops destroyed, flee, flee, Tibisay, we will fight, but before they see my beloved and dance to the sound of the instruments, revive our courage with the melody of your songs and the memory of our exploits. "

Then the beginning of a clear night The dance began, sad and monotonous, like a farewell party, the sun was finishing reddening towards the sunset, scattering its last reflections through the green peaks. Soon the fires shone in the circle of the camp and they began to awaken with the libations of the fermented corn the hearts despondent and the wild impulses of that tribe suddenly appears Tibisay in the middle of the circle, beautiful in the fantastic light of the fires, covered with the blanket on the arm, with the sweet and expressive look with three serious and prolonged cries, that accompanied with its sound the sacred fotuto, and then it extasió to the Indians with the magic of its voice.

Listen to the song of the warriors of the Mucujún: "The wind runs fast, the water runs fast, the stone that falls from the mountain runs fast".

"Run warriors, fly against the enemy, run fast as the wind, like water, like the stone that falls from the mountain."

"Strong is the tree that resists the wind, strong is the rock that resists the river, strong is the snow of our páramos that resists the sun".

"Fight warriors, fight, brave, show strong, like trees, like rocks, like the snows of the mountain."

"This is the song of the warriors of the Mucujún". Source http://www.meridapreciosa.com/cultura/murachi_tibisay.htm

After the dance, Murachí accompanied Tibisay through the mountain of the sierras where only the twinkling stars in the sky and the intermittent radiations of the distant catatumbo illuminated them. Silently with the pain of parting in the middle of dawn and afraid to say the last word, goodbye! A great night of love and passion was perpetuated.
The cold dawn took to the ears of Murachí the sad laments of the unfortunate Indian, whom she left in that secluded place, already mistress of her hut and her farm. When the first light of dawn colored the horizon, above the diamond-covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada, the wild snail resounded grave and monotonous at the bottom of the ravines that serve as a deep moat to the high plateau of Mérida. The Indians, organized in squads, were ready for combat.

"Tibisay!" Said the proud warrior, "our weddings will be my reward if I return triumphant, but if they kill me, Tibisay flees, hide in the mountain, do not fix your eyes on the stranger, because you would be his slave".

Between the mountains a great ambush is undertaken, and that brawl where only arrows crossed almost the tribe of murachi those warriors were practically killed in that Murachí breaks his macana in the armor of the former conqueror, only the brave Murachí sees those frightening animals up close that they helped their enemies in battle, but also only he was lying in the field, dead under the hull of the horses. Since then the domain of the King of Spain on Merida. After the burial of Murachí Tibisay lived since then alone with his pain and his memories in that dear hut. His songs were sadly like those of the wounded lark. The Indians admired with a certain feeling of religious affection and filled it with presents, Only Tibisay lived free in the gargabta of those mountains, the mystery of his life, something like a myth of the aborigines, that attracted the Spaniards with the fantastic power of the poetic fictions. No conqueror had managed to see it yet, however, no one questioned its existence. Since she was hiding in the jungle so that no foreigner could see her, as a promise of those last words her lover told her before her last departure.

It was a charm the voice of the fugitive, that the hunters heard from time to time for those wild places, like the echo of a sad music that hurt in the middle of the soul and made the tears flow. On his lips the Muisca dialect, his native tongue, sounded sweet and melodious and did not need to be understood to make the heart feel touched. There is a point where the rivers Milla and Albarregas run close together almost at their origin, they say that this symbolizes the union between Tibisay and Murachí, then these separate and cross the city of historic Merida tells the legend that these are the tears of Tibisay for his Beloved.

Photo of my Authorship of the Monument of India Tibisay Opposite the Zoological Park Chorros de Milla Mérida