Maria Estruvicá toma um banho de Hollywoood

Quando criança eu adorava as histórias de trancoso que meu pai me contava. Meu pai era o melhor contador de histórias da paróquia! Então vinham crianças de todos os cantos da rua, sentávamos todos juntos, cada qual com seu cobertor marrom de listas vermelhas nas pontas, aquele cobertor de menino de interior, a ouvir as histórias de terror que papai contava as quais, segundo ele, ouvira de sua mãe, que tinha aprendido com a mãe dela, que tinha aprendido com a mãe... até chegar em Eva. E nós as escutávamos com nossos olhos estatelados, sem piscar uma vez sequer. Parece que até a Mãe Natureza ajudava nessas noites de lua cheia, enviando barulhos inquietantes, nuvens que cobriam a lua nos momentos de maior tensão, ou mesmo aquele vento gelado, soprando por trás de nossas nucas. Ao final, luzes do terraço acesas, levantávamos de nossos lugares, aflitos por esperar o próximo dia de histórias bem contadas.

Na verdade, eram sempre as mesmas histórias. A minha preferida, e creio também que a dos meus irmãos, era a de Maria Estruvicá. Aliás, uma história horrível para os padrões atuais e que deixaria de cabelo em pé os psicólogos de plantão.

Para manter a tradição familiar (vejo essas histórias como receitas que ficam em família), contei-as todas para os meus filhos, tim-tim por tim-tim, tal qual ouvi de meu velho pai. Mesmo tendo criado meus filhos na cidade, tentei criar um clima lúgubre, com pouca luz no terraço da casa. Caprichei na entonação de voz, especialmente na história de Maria Estruvicá, em que há um bicho (os atuais monstros dos tempos idos) de voz bem cavernosa que chama a heroína pelo nome bem no meio da noite: "Maria Estruvicááááááá..."

Passou-se a infância dos meus filhos e com ela o tempo das histórias familiares de trancoso. Um desses dias, minha caçula estava fazendo um projeto na escola, aula de literatura, acho, no qual os alunos tinham que trazer por escrito um conto inédito. Não lembro se o conto deveria ser "de terror" ou não. Sei que minha filha chegou e pediu-me que lhe contasse a história "daquela moça que queria muito se casar com um príncipe" e tal. Pensei: Por que não? Marcamos uma hora qualquer e então lá chega ela, com um gravador profissional e tudo mais--tempos modernos--para não perder nenhum detalhe. Vesti novamente a roupa de contador de histórias e me esmerei no fazê-lo. Minha filha não se decepcionou. Ouviu e gravou tudo. Não me contou o resultado do projeto, mas creio que a história conseguiu agradar a todos. Pelo menos eu quero pensar que assim ocorreu.

Ontem pela manhã eu estava vasculhando os textos que há no meu computador quando dei com um em inglês cujo título lia: "The Fate of Maria Estruvicá." Imediatamente eu soube do que se tratava. Li e me diverti com a nova roupagem que a história ganhou, em sua versão americana, como que uma readaptação para os padrões americanos. Pensei: "Hmm! Maria Estruvicá foi a Hollywood, que interessante! Saiu das brenhas dos interiores mais remotos de Pernambuco e descobriu a América!"

Quero compartilhá-la aqui. Quanto à versão original... essa fica para outra hora. Dá muito trabalho escrever uma história como as que papai contava. É muita responsabilidade. Aliás, e como é receita de família, a gente nunca conta o segredo, não é verdade? Um dia, quem sabe, eu mudo de idéia e a coloco aqui. Por ora, deixo apenas o remake broadwayiano.

THE FATE OF MARIA ESTRUVICÁ
by Severo's daughter
Brazilian Folktale

Long ago, in the country part of Brazil, a young girl dreamed of one day marring a prince. She didn’t know any prince’s so she just called him Prince Charming. This girl lived with her parents. Her parents both loved her very much. Her name was Maria Estruvicá. She was beautiful. But she was always waiting for her Prince Charming. Her parents sometime met somebody and said to Maria, “My daughter, you should marry So-and-So. He is a good person.” But she always found something wrong with that person.

So time went by, and results were that Maria Estruvicá stayed single and her parents kept telling her “Be careful, you are never to open a door to some stranger.” But every time someone knocked on the door, she always thought it was her Prince Charming so she always threw open the door, hoping that it was him after all. But it never was. Sometimes it was a stranger, someone neither she nor her parents knew and her parents always got mad at her for disobeying them. They would scold, “No! You cannot open the door to strangers. Why can you not obey me for once?”

And time passed by, soon Maria Estruvicá’s dad passed and few years soon after her mother too. Maria Estruvicá stayed single and grew older.

Now Maria Estruvicá had a little dog that she loved like a daughter. She liked everything about her little dog, Mitzie. Mitzie was very obedient, did everything Maria wanted her to do, and shook paws. So her little dog was Maria’s happiness.

One night, a dark, cold night Maria Estruvicá was already asleep when she heard a noise that woke her up. It was barely a whisper, from far, far away that said “Maria Estruvicaaaaaa”
By then she was a little alert, waiting for the voice to call her name again. As you probably know, back then, animals could talk so Mitzie said “She’s washed her hands, washed her feet and went to bed!” and so, for the rest of the night, Maria did not hear the voice call out her name again.
When morning came, she went to her little dog and said “Don’t do this, little dog. That could be my Prince Charming. You could have destroyed my chance” She was irritated at Mitzie for jeopardizing her chances with her prince.

That next night, Maria Estruvicá had trouble falling asleep but after a while she managed to drift off into a deep slumber. Then, in the middle of the night, she woke up to a voice. “Maria Estruvicaaaaaa” it said. Except this time it was a little closer. But as soon as the voice spoke, Mitzie said “She’s washed her hands, washed her feet and went to bed!” The voice then went away for the rest of the night. Than Maria Estruvicá got up, really angry at Mitzie and said, “Didn’t I already tell you not to say that?” Maria was so mad at poor little Mitzie that she hit her a couple of times, hard. Maria Estruvicá thought that Mitzie had learned her lesson.

So that night, instead of lying down to go to sleep, she sat in her rocking chair to wait. Now, Maria Estruvicá lived right by a river and while hearing the soft murmur of the river, sloshing softly she soon grew very tired and sleepy. She didn’t go to sleep though, instead stayed up the whole night. But no one had called her that night. Maria was very sad. In the morning she had dark, purple circles under her eyes showing lack of sleep.

She was so sad with little Mitzie that she decided not to feed her that day. The poor little dog grew weak and stayed in a corner of the house.

That night, Maria Estruvicá was so depressed that she went to bed almost immediately. In the middle of the night, she heard her name being called “Maria Estruvicaaaaaa.”. This time it was even closer. But as soon as the voice spoke, Mitzie said, “She’s washed her hands, washed her feet, and went to bed!” So, the voice went away once again.

Maria Estruvicá was so enraged that in her anger she hit little Mitzie so much, and so hard that she killed the poor little dog. She threw her out into the backyard, not even giving her dog a little burial. At first she felt really sad, because she had loved Mitzie, but then she thought of her prince and how she was going to marry him that she soon forgot about being sad over Mitzie’s death.

That night she lay down to sleep, but stayed up, waiting for the call. When the voice came and said her name, she noticed that the voice was closer yet again. But the little dog, who was dead, said what she said every night. “She’s washed her hands, she’s washed her feet, and went to bed!” So the voice went away once again.

That morning, she made a huge fire and threw Mitzie in it. “There,” She laughed “See how you stop my prince from coming to marry me again this time!” She laughed again and went inside.
That night, the same thing happened. The voice called once again, this time much, much closer. “Maria Estruvicaaaaaaaa” it said. But then, before Maria could say anything, the pile of Mitzie’s ashes whispered softly and slowly “She’s washed her hands..She’s washed her feet..And went to bed” The voice was barely audible but the voice heard it. So the voice went away.

This time, Maria Estruvicá wasn’t even mad. So that same afternoon she took the pile of ashes and threw them in a river she lived next to. She washed the ashes go down the river and, smirking, went back inside.

That very same night, Maria dressed up in her mother’s wedding dress, with the trail and veil and all. She had picked some white roses from her garden that day and had made a bouquet. She sat on the corner of the bed and as soon as she heard the lovely voice call her name again, she heard a loud knock on the door. This time, there was no one to say that she had washed her hands, washed her feet and went to bed. So as soon as she heard the knock, she stoop up really quickly and screamed “Wait, my prince! I am coming!”. She ran to the doorway and opened it.
When she opened the door, she screamed. ~