Unlike many folktales, the various retellings of this myth are only found in Costa Rica. Visitors to the country can still see the oxcart blessings in mid-March every year, when there is the Oxcart Festival or Day of the Oxcart Driver in San Antonio de Escazu, or in San Isidro de General on the town’s patron saint’s day mid-May. The parades and festivals are a tribute to the important part the carts played in Costa Rica’s agricultural past. Although today, the usage of oxcarts as the primary means of transportation across the country has declined to the point where almost all are purely decorative or in the most rural locations.

The oxcart, a national symbol of Costa Rica, was once the main means of transporting crops such as coffee and sugarcane to the market for sale. The large trademark wheels of the carts are made from sixteen pieces, fitted together in a metal ring, and designed to cut through muddy roads. Each artisan manufacturer has a distinctive style of colorfully painted geometrical patterns to decorate the carts, and no cart is painted exactly the same.

The year was 1776 in San Antonio de Escazu, Costa Rica. San Jose and its suburbs were not the maze of highways of today but small rural villages where life centered around farming and religious activities. The villagers worked hard tilling their land and growing crops. They gathered daily and sometimes more with their priest, Father Emmanuel, in their simple sanctuary to pray. They believed their saints protected them from the vast wilderness surrounding them, the dark magic of witches and the ever present temptations of the Devil.

Father Emmanuel wanted to build a larger church since the population was growing and he wanted to accommodate his parishioners. One day when the people gathered to pray, he shared his vision of a new church with an altar, pews, and statues — all made of beautifully polished wood from the Guanacaste and Bitter Cedar trees. One young man, Eduardo, who was known to be especially hard working, was so taken by the priest’s vision that he rose to his feet to urge the townspeople to cut the wood for the new church at first light. There was no time to waste since they were under a waning moon — the best time to cut trees because the sap would be closer to the roots than their branches. The women went to their homes to prepare extra tortillas and tamales for the hard work of the next day.

As dawn broke, the men of village went to what is now the National Museum, but back then it was a forest known for its strong Guanacaste trees. The village men, and especially Eduardo, worked hard all day but as dusk fell, they knew they would need to come back for the wood the next day. They laid the trunks out in neat rows and headed home before the sun set.

One man, however, did not help to fell the trees — Pedro “El Malo” (The Bad). He lived just on the outskirts of the village in a big house that you could see from the town. He was unkempt, with long stringy hair, and big muscled arms, honed from whipping his oxen to work harder. He never came to pray with the rest of the villagers. In fact, he was said to practice magic and be in league with the Devil. He worked his land alone and never shared his crops — even when food was scarce in the village.

The next morning when the townspeople awoke, they could see the big house of Pedro “El Malo”. It had grown in size with more rooms built on. Next to his larger home, sat a brand new mill, stable and a lavish new oxcart painted in a colorful pattern. The vain and proud Pedro “El Malo” looked on, as Eduardo frowned.

The townspeople gasped in horror as they ran to the woods, hoping their timber was still there. Their hearts sank when they arrived at the forest and saw with their own eyes all their wood had been stolen. Some men wanted to go after Pedro “El Malo”, but they were also afraid of this powerful man and his pact with the Devil. Father Emmanuel urged the townspeople to let God deal with Pedro “El Malo”. They must wait for God’s sign for surely He will not abandon them. The crowd dispersed angered, but a bit relieved, having avoided facing this frightening man.

The following day Father Emmanuel would bless all the oxcarts in San Antonio. There were not many to bless, but all the town came out to see and celebrate together. The mood was solemn that year, as the townspeople thought of their stolen wood and the loss of their new church. Father Emmanuel blessed the oxcarts in his sanctuary and although simple, it was still sacred ground. The few men and their carts lined up in front of the sanctuary and waited their turn. Eduardo led his ox and carefully crafted cart to wait with his fellow men.

Just then Pedro “El Malo” stormed into town with his brand new oxcart and barged to the front of the line, demanding Father Emmanuel bless his oxcart. The Father refused and Pedro “El Malo” let out a loud laugh and yelled “I did not come here to bless my cart, you fool, because it is already blessed by the Devil, but I will enter this sanctuary!” and with that he whipped the oxen to move forward, but they would not budge. As he was possessed by the Devil, Pedro “El Malo” began whipping the oxen with such ferocity that surely he would rip their flesh from their bones, but the oxen would not budge.

Father Emmanuel could take no more of this cruelty and he called on God’s help to rid the town of this evil man. “By the power of the Almighty God, I curse you to roam in your cart for all eternity.” And with that, the oxen suddenly broke free of the cart and sent it rolling down a hill with Pedro “El Malo” chasing after it. The oxen were given shelter and their wounds tended. They were brave souls and deserved to live the rest of their lives in peace for their stance.

Pedro “El Malo” was never seen again, but on certain evenings, a cold wind would blow in the darkest of the night and the creaking sound of a lone oxcart, traveling without oxen escort, could be heard off in the distance. The wheels rotating across the road, “traca, taca, tratata” would make even a devout man pull the covers over their heads and gesture the sign of the cross, for they knew that the Devil was passing by.

This oral legend serves as a dire warning to those whose vanity and arrogance could tempt them away from the church. The Devil may make you do it, but the payout isn’t worth the price.