“The year was 1982. I was thirteen years old. I lived in the same village as Mateo. It was July—July 15, to be exact. I remember because it was my birthday. There was a party for me. The village turned out to share in the celebration. Mateo was there. I fell asleep around midnight. We lived on the edge of the village. There was a small field beside our house. That is the place we played football. It was a part of the schoolyard as I recall.” He looked at Mateo for confirmation.
“As I recall, it was the playground of the school,” Mateo said. The priest nodded.
“I woke up in the middle of the night. I saw flashing lights outside. It was very strange to me. We didn’t have electricity in our village, so I had only seen electric lights a time or two. I could even see them flashing with my eyes closed. At first I was very excited. I had never seen anything of such beauty. I tried to wake up my three brothers who slept in the same room with me. They would not awaken no matter how hard I tried.”
“Tell her about me,” Mateo said.
“In time, dear friend. I am trying to tell as it happened. I remember being told, in my mind, to go out the bedroom window. I did as I was told and crawled out the window. Once outside I saw these colorful balls of light. Some were still in the sky but some were on the ground and when they hit the earth they transformed into men. I went up to one of the men and asked him about his flying machine. I was expecting to see something like the pictures in comic books that I had seen in school, but his machine was different. He did not answer me; instead he held this object in his hand and shot at me. I felt a slight prick on my shoulder, and he said that it would allow him to track me wherever I went in the world. I remember thinking, ‘If this strange man was from space, why would he want to follow me?’”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“I can’t remember what he looked like, but I was not afraid of him. I have always had the feeling that he was very kind.”
“What about the place where he shot you? Is there a scar?”
“When I was younger, there was a slight indentation—a small, straight line—but it is gone now with time and too much weight.” He paused and stroked his stomach, and laughed. “The village women are very good cooks.”
“What else can you tell me about that night?” I asked.
“After talking with the Sky Man, I saw something very strange. I watched as my neighbors, my relatives, and even my best friend, Mateo, stood in the field dazed. One by one they were taken on board the craft and then, maybe a half hour later, they would return to the field. I ran to Mateo and tried to drag him out of the line, but he could not be moved. He was like a stone statue. He didn’t even look at me. He was under their spell. I was helpless. I remember sitting on a rock and crying. The stranger approached me again and told me not to cry. He said tomorrow I would not remember what happened on this night.”
“But you did,” I said.
“Yes. I did and I told the Sky Man I would remember. I would never forget what happened. He said I would only remember it as a dream.”
“Did you have a period when you did not remember?” I asked.
“No. That night I picked up a rock and carried it home. I put it on the floor next to my sandals. I knew that, in the morning if I woke and the rock was there, I had not been dreaming. When I woke, the rock was there. So I knew it really happened.”
“The next morning, he told me what he saw, but I did not remember. I always felt cheated that he remembered and I didn’t,” Mateo said.
“I think it was that night that I decided to be a priest. This Sky Man gave me such a feeling of trust, kindness, and love that I wanted to pass it on to others.”
I have not seen Father Felipe since that initial meeting. It was obvious that his direction in life had been influenced by that fateful night when the Sky People visited his small, remote village. I was not surprised by the impact on his life. Others had told me stories about encounters that changed their lives. It seems learning that we are not alone in the universe results in major life changes.
Chapter 21
A City That Touches the Sky
According to the Popol Vuh, a historical narrative of the post-classic K’iche’ Maya kingdom, Q’uq’umatz, a lord of great genius, was assisted by powerful spirits, in the founding of the city of Q’umarkaj, Guatemala. It once housed nine dynasties of the elite and contained twenty-three palaces. It was one of the most powerful Maya cities when the Spanish arrived in the region in the early 16th century. There is some disagreement as to whether Q’uq’umatz was a historical figure or a mythological figure. In any case, the founder of this city was definitely a genius with a vision unparalleled for his time.
It was in the city of Q’umarkaj that my driver, Mateo, told me of his encounter with the men from the stars.
On Sunday morning, when my driver had not arrived, Mateo convinced me to return to Q’uq’umatz. “I have something to show you,” he said. “I should have shared it with you when we were there previously, but it is time. The modern-day Maya consider Q’umarkaj a sacred place,” Mateo said. “Most likely we will see some folks from the village conducting ceremonies since it is Sunday.”
As we moved closer to the ancient site, I remembered that Stephens and Catherwood made this journey by mule. Riding in an air-conditioned van was obviously a much easier alternative.
As we approached the ruins, an elder identifying himself as Alberto stopped us. He spoke briefly to Mateo, who explained that the elder was a practicing shaman who had felt a particular connection with me as he saw me approach. He wanted to describe to me my Nawai. Nawai is said to represent a person’s mission or destiny in life. It was also supposed to give the recipient (in this case, me) an insight into how they could achieve the greatest fulfillment in life. I anxiously followed the elder as he led us to the top of a small hill. Mateo explained that the shaman chose this place because he felt close to the creator at this place. I watched as Alberto lit a fire in a ring. I realized it had been used often. According to Mateo, the fire was a necessary part of the ceremony. As the fire reached for the sky, it received messages through prayers, which were in turn transferred to Alberto. I was amazed that he knew my mission of following in the footsteps of Stephens and Catherwood without having any previous knowledge of me. Needless to say, I was impressed. “You will live a very long life and have many opportunities to make a difference in the world. The road you travel will be rewarding. The obstacles are many, but the people will feel comfortable with you. You will get what you come after. The Sky Gods smile upon you. You will be safe in your journey.” After the ceremony I offered to pay him, but he rejected my offer. “Doctora, it is my pleasure to meet you. It is enough.”
After saying goodbye to the elder shaman, we continued toward the ruins. The ancient city sat on a hilltop surrounded by steep ravines, a testament to the city’s strategic wartime position.
“This is an amazing place,” I said as I focused my camera on the Temple of Tohi.
“Last summer, I brought my family here for the weekend. We rented a room in Chichicastenango. On Sunday, my wife and children planned to go to the market in the city so I decided to come here alone. I left shortly before dawn. I liked to watch the mist rise above the treetops. As I sat here, exactly where I am sitting now, I saw a craft descend from the clouds and hover over the plaza.” I looked in the direction he pointed. A couple with a small child was engaged in a private ceremony. “As I sat here and watched, two beings descended from the craft. I believe they were using some type of mechanized instrument, strapped to their back, to descend from the craft to the ground. For the longest time, I watched them. I am sure they were photographing the entire area. They both used a gloved hand and held it in front of them. Suddenly a third being appeared and proceeded to dig, or, at least, that is what I thought. The three of them kneeled around the spot and when they stood, one of them saw me. He pointed out my presence to the other two, who turned and looked in my direction. They immediately returne
d to the craft, stood underneath it, and ascended into the bottom of the hovering spaceship.”
“Did they say anything? Could you hear them talking? What did they look like?”
“Dios mio! They were tall. The tallest men I have ever seen. Maybe eight or nine feet tall. They wore one-piece suits with two cylinders on their back. One emitted a steam-like substance, which I think was a propulsion system that allowed them to exit and re-enter the craft. The other was probably a breathing apparatus because they never took off a helmet that engulfed their whole head and upper body. I did not get a good look at their faces—they were too far away—but they were humanoid and they were tall. I can swear to that.”
“Do you remember anything else about them physically?”
“One thing: Their walk was strange.”
“Please explain,” I said.
“Their strides were long—three times that of an average man. But it was more than that, it was like when they walked, they did not touch the ground. It was only when they came to a stationery position that their feet seemed to touch the earth.”
“What kind of clothing did they wear?”
“As I said, they had a helmet-like apparatus that covered their head and shoulders. Their suits appeared one piece; even the boots seemed connected. There was an insignia on the left shoulder, but I could not make it out. Their suits were a silver-gray, maybe more silver. Their gloves seemed to be more like equipment than gloves like humans wear. I think there were cameras embedded in them,” Mateo said, staring into the distance.
“You said you think they dug up something?”
“I’m not sure. A third entity appeared with an instrument that appeared to be a digging tool, but when they were gone, I saw no evidence that they had dug in the ground. In fact, I did some of my own digging and found nothing.”
“What happened when they returned to their craft?” I asked.
“They left, but later that morning I saw them again. It was near the bottom of the mountain. It was the same three beings, but this time the craft had landed. They were kneeling around an area. I was sure they were digging for something. For a while I stopped, but they seemed unconcerned about me. Then, as I watched, the three of them flew upward into the sky. They disappeared in the direction of the ancient city. At that point, I drove back to Chichicastenango and waited for my wife and children at the Maya Inn.”
“That’s an interesting story. Any theories about what they were doing?”
“If I had a quetzal for every time I have tried to figure out what they were doing, I’d be a rich man. I really have no idea. I do know they were not performing sacred rituals, which is common to see here.”
“And you believe that the Maya are the descendants of the Sky Gods,” I said.
“As I have told you previously, I believe the space men or Sky Gods actually came here to colonize this planet. I believe we, the living Maya, are the descendants of the Sky People—that they came to settle the planet and we are their descendants.” He paused for a moment, and then almost apologetically added, “It is only one man’s theory—mine.” He smiled. “What do you think of this city? Do you feel anything special?” Mateo asked.
“Even though the city lies in ruins, I feel a strong spiritual power in this place.”
“You are my first client to recognize this power,” he said. “We must be related.”
I walked away from Mateo and stepped onto the floor of a roofless palace. I paused and looked at the candles, and the offerings of fruit, alcohol, beans, and corn left by the descendants of those who once occupied this magnificent city. Standing in the middle of the plaza, I whispered a prayer to the four directions. On the floor of the palace along with the other offerings, I left a small tobacco offering and a piece of quartz I once found in a riverbed in Montana.
Chapter 22
The K’iche’ Village Women Tell Their Stories
Prior to Spanish invasion in the 16th century, Guatemala was the center of the Maya world. Even today, the majority of Guatemalan citizens identify themselves as Maya. Despite their majority, they have been ruled by a dynasty of Latin dictators, who have made them the most oppressed people of Mesoamerica. An estimated 200,000 Maya were murdered in the civil war between 1960 and 1996. Most were massacred in an organized and systematic fashion, while the world remained silent to their plight. The Guatemalan army carried out 626 massacres, and five Maya tribes in the mountainous areas were exterminated. The government’s defense was based upon its racist ideology that the Maya, who were descendants of the Maya kingdom at the start of the 16th century, were inferior to the Latin people. The government suggested the Maya were lazy and primitive, and responsible for the country’s poverty. The most inferior, according to this racist dogma, were “the mountain dwellers.”
I am in the country of the mountain dwellers. It is a place where Americans are often regarded with suspicion and disdain. Given their experiences with American companies that have exploited them, and a U. S. government that has supported dictators in power, their attitude is understandable. Despite their plight, there is a glimmer of hope for the indigenous people of Guatemala. Women, in particular, have taken up the role of resistance. In this atmosphere I met some of those resilient Maya women, who, like their counterparts throughout Mesoamerica, have had unique encounters with UFOs. In this chapter you will read their stories.
After visiting the ancient K’iche’ Maya city of Q’umarkaj we returned to the hotel and had lunch. Later Mateo took me on a tour of the city. Chichicastenango is a small, stucco-white town on the crests of mountaintops. The majority of the residents were K’iche’ Maya and they spoke a dialect of the same name. The city, known as Chichi to the locals, is a bustling town of narrow streets surrounding the 400-year-old church of Santo Tomás and the central market square, one of the largest in Guatemala.
“A woman alone, especially a foreigner, can be a target in Guatemala,” Mateo cautioned as we walked the streets. “I am ashamed to say this. I love this country, but Guatemala is a dangerous place. Gangs roam city streets and main highways. There are many robberies and murders. Since your new driver has not arrived, I have decided to stay another night to make sure that he does come. If necessary, I will drive you to Mexico. I cannot allow you to make the trip alone.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, “but I don’t like the idea of putting you at risk.”
“You are family. It is no risk.” I breathed a sigh of relief when Mateo decided to stay the night. It was a three-hour drive to Guatemala City and he could have made it before nightfall, but out of concern for my safety he decided to spend the night.
I joined him later that evening for dinner. He was smiling when I approached his table. “I have a special surprise for you,” he said as I sat down. “I stopped in the bar this afternoon. A lady works here that my wife and I have known for years. She once stayed at our home in Guatemala City when her husband was in the hospital. I told her about you and why we are here. She told me she had an encounter with a UFO. She has agreed to talk with you about the event even though it happened a number of years ago. Before we eat, would you like to go meet her?” There was no need to answer. I picked up my handbag and pushed back my chair. I followed Mateo to his vehicle. “She lives outside the village and works in the kitchen at the restaurant. She comes in a 4 a.m. in the morning and goes home to her children at 4 p.m.”
“That’s a twelve-hour shift,” I replied.
“But one of the better jobs in the community. She supports her family. Her husband is in a very bad way. He has terminal cancer and not long to live.” We drove through the town and, near the outskirts leading to Santa Cruz del Quiché, Mateo parked the vehicle halfway on the sidewalk in front of a corrugated tin and concrete block shack. “According to the directions she gave me, this is where she lives,” Mateo said, as he opened the van door for me. Before he could knock on the door, it swung open, and a young boy about six opened the door. He smiled and showed us into the dimly lit h
ouse.
“Angelina,” Mateo said, “this is my friend and traveler from the USA. I told you about her interest in UFOs, and you said you would tell her your story.”
“Come with me.” She led us through the two-room house into a small backyard area. As we passed through the living area, she pointed out her husband, who was lying in a hammock and watching a small black and white TV. Another male sat beside him in a wooden chair. When we entered the backyard, several women sat in a circle talking and eating. “These are my friends and family,” she began. “They have stories, too.” She offered me a chair and I sat. She turned to Mateo. “I have asked Edna to translate. She is an English teacher. Part of the conversation might be inappropriate for a male to hear.” Mateo nodded, explained the situation to me, and disappeared inside the house.
Once Mateo was gone, Angelina was the first to begin. Because they spoke mostly K’iche’ Maya, Edna translated. “I was gathering wood one day with my daughter. We were walking along the edge of the road, picking up small sticks. We saw a long object like a big gasoline tank fall out of the sky and drop to the ground. It did not make a sound. Both my daughter and I were surprised. Then we got scared and hid but we kept watching the tank. Two big men got out of it. They were twice as tall as me.” I looked at Angelina. I would be surprised if she were more than four feet tall. “They saw us or sensed us because they came through the woods and took us.” She paused and emptied a bottle of cerveza and offered one to me.
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