‘Worry? What about?’
‘I didn’t know where you were and if you were OK. I was worried.’
‘No need to worry granddad. Everything’s good. It’s all good.’
Jim walked passed his grandfather and into the hut they shared. Hamish did not follow. He did not think his presence in the room was wanted.
From inside the hut Hamish was addressed, with a sing-song voice, ‘Good night.’
Hamish replied in a raised, hurried voice, to make sure that Jim heard him and did not think he was upset, ‘Good night, Jim.’
Hamish sat on his chair on the veranda and stared at nothing. There was only darkness in front of him.
Chapter 11
Hamish went into the hut a long time after Jim. He watched his grandson sleep before he turned out the light and got into the other single bed.
He knew he was dreaming, although he could feel himself lying in bed. He could feel the drift of air from the ceiling fan and he could hear the pulse as it wobbled and pushed the air towards him. But he was not in the room lying in the bed next to Jim’s.
Hamish sits cross-legged, not uncomfortably, on the floor in Yax K’in’s hut. No, it isn’t Yax K’in’s hut, he thinks. Yax K’in is present but it’s somewhere else. There are solid rock walls. It’s black where there should be a roof. He’s in a small, completely enclosed cave, like a tall, round chimney, a rocky tomb. He wonders how anyone got in and out.
Yax K’in sits on the floor with a clay pot in front of him. There are irregular markings on it that Hamish cannot make out. Almost like they are badly done repairs from re-joined pieces. The pot is filled with a substance that smolders and gives off a pungent smoke. It’s not an unpleasant smell. It must be incense, Hamish thinks.
Yax K’in is muttering to himself. Hamish listens and hears rhythms and repetitions. He must be chanting, Hamish thinks. Yax K’in places a hard, resin-like substance into the clay pot and the incense smell increases. Yax K’in stops chanting and looks at Hamish but his gaze is unfocussed. He cannot meet Hamish’s eyes. Yax K’in knows I’m here, Hamish thinks, but he can’t see me.
The soft chanting resumes as more incense is placed into the pot. The t’o’ohil sips an ugly liquid from a rough bowl that he places on a bark coaster on the ground next to him.
Hamish listens closely. He understands what the Mayan leader is saying. He’s jubilant at his success at learning a language from books. He moves effortlessly and looks down to see that he’s hovering, a few centimeters above the ground. He can slip and slide wherever he wants by will alone. He drifts closer to Yax K’in.
Yax K’in’s unfocussed look follows Hamish until he’s close.
‘Thank you,’ Hamish hears Yax K’in say. Hamish does not know why the old man is thankful. Another hard piece of resin is placed into the clay pot.
The light in the cave changes. Hamish sees Kate walk out of the shadows and stand on the other side of the incense burner. She is contrite, her head down. Good, thinks Hamish.
Kate crouches. She sighs and says to Yax K’in, in Maya, ‘Must I?’
Yax K’in places more incense into the pot and takes another sip from the bowl of liquid.
Kate stares at Yax K’in for a long time as if she is stuck in that position. It must be uncomfortable for a woman of her age, Hamish thinks, to crouch like that for so long.
Kate, once again, asks, ‘Must I?’
Yax K’in nods his head.
Kate reaches behind her to fetch a large piece of paper, or something that looks like paper. She places a corner into the pot and it smolders and smokes but does not burn. The smoke rises and forms a column that disappears into the darkness above her head. Kate’s image and the image of the rising smoke flickers on and off, as if it is an inexpert cut in a reel of film.
The smoke and the paper have disappeared, as if a new dream has begun. Kate reaches out her hand and then stops as it hovers above the pot. Hamish notices the pot has a handle. She touches the handle then waits for further confirmation. Yax K’in nods.
Kate picks up the pot, moves it with reverence and places it on the ground in front of Hamish. She sighs and hangs her head as if she has completed a task that would weary a strong man.
Kate knows exactly where Hamish is. She speaks to him in Maya.
‘I’m sorry, Hamish. It was simply a mistake. Please, please forgive me. Do not blame everyone. Please?’ Kate pleads as she holds out her arms to him.
Hamish calls out to Kate. He’s frantic. He tries to move but cannot. Yax K’in places another piece of incense into the clay pot which, somehow, is again in front of him. Kate dissolves as the smell of incense takes her place. For a fleeting second before she disappears she transforms into another, a Mayan woman, who is more beautiful than Kate. Hamish does not understand how that’s possible, Kate is perfect. Then the image is gone. The separate voice in Hamish’s head screams and then dissolves in an utter despair that wrenches Hamish’s heart. His loss of his family, his loss of Kate is as nothing in comparison to the sorrow expressed in that voice.
Yax K’in mumbles into the incense burner. ‘There are many dreams. She is no longer yours. For that, I am sorry. We are all sorry.’
Hamish is instantly, unreasonably, calm. Yax K’in picks up the bowl of liquid and offers it. Hamish drinks a sip. He remembers the taste of that liquid, he has drunk it before although he can not recall when.
‘Your dream is strong. It is as large as everything. It has lasted as long as everything. Your dream will be yours again,’ Yax K’in says. ‘The life of the t’o’ohil depends upon it. But not yet.’
Hamish woke. He felt the resistance of the mattress as he lay on his back in bed. His eyes were open but in the pitch darkness he saw nothing. He heard Jim breathing in the bed next to his. He heard the ceiling fan. He felt the drift of air.
He could smell the incense that had returned with him. He could taste the balche he had drank before leaving Yax K’in.
Chapter 12
When Hamish woke the next morning the other bed was empty and untidy. He called out Jim’s name but received no reply. He sighed, then watched the ceiling fan spin. He lay like that for a long time.
In the dining hut Michelle and Arthur, and a few of Arthur’s team, were finishing their breakfasts when Hamish stood in the doorway and listened to the hubbub of voices. Michelle and Arthur were together and separate from the others. There was no animosity. He smiled at their pleasure.
He sat down next to Michelle.
‘Did you sleep well last night?’ she asked, a different, calmer person than the previous morning.
‘Yes and no,’ Hamish said.
‘I’ll move some of my team around so you and Jim can have a better hut,’ Arthur said. ‘The KulWinik think they have put you in the best one. It’s where the government officials and the paying tourists stay.’
Hamish nodded but was not listening.
‘Have you seen Jim this morning?’ Hamish asked.
‘No. Why?’
‘He was gone when I woke up. And he came in late last night.’
‘And you’re worried?’ Michelle asked and smiled.
‘Yes,’ Hamish said, then laughed. ‘I’m always worried.’
‘He’s perfectly safe here,’ Michelle said trying to reassure him.
‘I know that. I think,’ Hamish said.
‘But this is perfect,’ Arthur exclaimed. ‘Isn’t it what you wanted? He’s enjoying himself so much, that in a KulWinik village, in the middle of the jungle, he stays out late and he gets up early. Isn’t that, partly, the reason you let me browbeat you to bring him? Pep’Em Ha is his age and she’s really smart. Her brother is only a few years older, and he’ll be with them too. They’ll have a great time. There’s so much for him to learn. Maybe, even, Yax K’in will teach him things. Michelle and I know what that’s like.’
‘He is right, Hamish,’ Michelle said. ‘You’ve been focussing on Jim’s well being, which is good, but it might be time
to do the next thing,’ she said, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Hamish felt like a small child being comforted by his mother after telling tales of personal, and insignificant, woe. It was a pleasant sensation. He was unused to being the object of commiseration. He guessed his appearance had always led people to believe that he could cope with everything. That was wrong and Michelle was right. He had been worried about Jim although he showed little need of help and now that the responsibility for his grandson was shared with the KulWinik community he could relax. But he had lost his distraction. He could no longer ignore his own plight. He smiled, at a new, ironic thought. A KulWinik village was as good a place as any to lose his sanity. He was worried that the other voice in his head would take permanent control.
Arthur stood. ‘I’ll go and get a refill for breakfast. You do want breakfast, don’t you?’
Hamish’s ironic smile persisted as he said, ‘Yes, please.’
Arthur and Michelle stayed in the dining hut as Hamish ate, watching over him like they were parents of a convalescing child.
Chapter 13
A conch shell was blown repeatedly. The sound was loud and low. With each repetition the volume and frequency increased, as if the player was enthusiastically warming to the task.
Yax K’in laughed out loud as he opened the door to the dining hut.
‘My son is very keen when he plays the conch shell,’ he said to Arthur. ‘Come. Today we will drink balche. Bring your friend, the grandfather.’
Michelle went ahead while Arthur waited for Hamish to finish his breakfast. A full stomach would help with the long day of drinking ahead.
After Hamish had finished, Arthur led him towards the KulWinik section of the village.
‘The balche sessions,’ Arthur lectured as they walked, ‘are meant to reinvigorate community spirit. The object is to get a little intoxicated,’ he said. ‘So that barriers are removed. Disputes are brought into the open and solved by the community or the t’o’ohil.’
Hamish frowned.
‘We’ll monitor Jim,’ Arthur reassured his friend. ‘Don’t worry, Hamish. Getting very drunk is not the idea. Conversation flows, jokes and stories are told. Often, dreams are analyzed. Everyone loosens up. These sessions are intended to introduce you and Jim to the community but that’s only an excuse to get started. You don’t need to worry about expectations. Just relax and try to enjoy. Michelle and I will look to Jim.’
‘You said there was a ceremony. It doesn’t sound like that. Just a bunch of guys having a drink and a laugh.’
‘Well, there is that aspect, but there is another. The gods have to be cajoled, appeased. Incantations are sung, rituals are performed. Usually by Yax K’in. On rare occasions, years ago, by one of his older sons. That was done in the afternoons, after a long morning session of balche drinking. However, as we said yesterday, Pep’Em Ha does it all now. Apparently. Right from the beginning. It’s a change in the tradition. It’s exciting.’
‘The ceremonial stuff will be like you said in your book?’ Hamish asked, still thinking about Jim’s drinking.
‘Yes. God pots with incense burned in them. Each pot representing a KulWinik god and alive in it’s own right. There’ll be incantations and chanting. Yes, all the stuff in my books.’
‘Should we go and get Jim? Do you think?’ Hamish asked.
Arthur laughed. He understood that Hamish had not been listening.
They halted before a wall-less hut, its thatched roof held aloft by hewn, sinuous trunks of felled jungle trees. It was set some distance away from the rest of the village. Inside were many men, all dressed in white tunics, sitting on the ground and on mahogany stools. The air was filled with the strong smell of cigars and the sound of simultaneous voices. A few voices raised above the cacophony and Arthur smiled as he raised his hand in greeting but he then led Hamish away to ceremonially wash their hands.
There was a louder greeting when Arthur and Hamish returned and entered, as if Arthur had been absent for a long time, that he had not seen the occupants, each day, for the weeks he had been staying in the village. Yax K’in sat behind his pall of cigar smoke smiling at Arthur and Hamish’s reception.
Some of the elders made fun of Arthur’s extended absence from the village, before his recent visit. They called him ‘old man’ and queried his sexual adventures. Arthur laughed nervously as he glanced at Michelle. He reminded others of their own indiscretions. The group raised their voices in laughter.
Hamish recognized Michelle with difficulty. She smoked a cigar, like Yax K’in’s, and was dressed in a KulWinik white tunic. Her legs were crossed and her feet bare. One of the items in Arthur’s package of books on the Maya he had sent to Hamish had been an old National Geographic magazine. On the cover was a fierce looking Michelle, dressed as a traditional KulWinik. She was grubby and determined, defiantly standing in the jungle, ready to do battle with the loggers stealing the KulWinik’s Mahogany, like she was an ancient Mayan warrior. Hamish stared at her as if her face could turn into another’s if he looked hard and long. She noticed and smiled at him.
Hamish was introduced, by Arthur in Maya, to the assembly. Yax K’in spoke a few words after Arthur. Someone called out and the assembly laughed and giggled like they were young girls. Hamish was embarrassed. He guessed that the laughter was directed at him.
Arthur put an arm around Hamish and hugged him to his side. The group laughter rose again.
‘It’s OK Hamish,’ Arthur reassured him, in English.
‘What was everyone laughing at?’ Hamish asked, a little crestfallen.
‘You have a new nickname. You’ve been called “little grandfather” or “child grandfather”. It’s hard to translate. Yax K’in introduced you in terms of your relationship to Jim. As if Jim was the elder.’
Hamish did not understand.
‘The elders know Jim already. They like him. He’s fitted into the village because of Pep’Em Ha and her brother. You’ve been with me and Michelle, and reading books on your veranda. Jim is getting direct instruction and you’re reading about it. We can tell who the academic is! They don’t know you. Not yet. But they’re ready to like you because they like Jim. If they need an excuse to like you, that is.’
Arthur again hugged Hamish to his side, ‘Just relax,’ he said. They sat down, opposite Yax K’in.
Pep’Em Ha’s brother dispensed balche. There was a communal cup doing the rounds but he gave Arthur and Hamish a half-filled cup each, to get them started.
Pep’Em Ha’s brother grinned when Hamish said, ‘Thank you,’ in Maya.
Yax K’in raised his voice to his youngest son. The others laughed. Pep’Em Ha’s brother filled Arthur and Hamish’s bowls to the top.
Arthur leant nearer to Hamish. ‘Sprinkle a little over your shoulder. For the gods. Then you can drink,’ he said quietly in English.
Hamish safely negotiated a sip without spilling any. Arthur pointed his finger to the ground next to Hamish where there was a small mahogany coaster on which to rest his drink. Hamish remembered a similar coaster in his dream but the taste of balche was somehow different. It was more bitter and less enjoyable as if he was unused to the taste.
Arthur passed him a handmade cigar and a cheap, plastic lighter. He warned Hamish. ‘The balche may not make you sick but these will. Take them slowly.’
Hamish lit his cigar and filled his mouth with the bitter, acrid taste of tobacco hung to dry in a KulWinik hut and rolled by hand. It was not a pleasant sensation for a non-smoker. He decided to let the cigar smolder and reduce on its own without taking too many puffs.
Jim was, also, dressed as a KulWinik. His grandson laughed with the older men and appeared especially friendly with Yax K’in’s youngest son, who stopped to talk and laugh as he dispensed balche. After a single day Jim could make himself understood in Maya. Hamish was surprised. When Jim spoke in Maya, someone among the group repeated similar sounding words, obviously the correct pronunciation Hamish guessed, back to him. Jim would th
en repeat the correct words over and over, as if he was burning the sounds into his brain. The repetition caused much laughter and Jim’s example was followed by others for the rest of the day. Sentences were echoed, over and over through the group, each time with slightly different pronunciation. Arthur translated for Hamish, and the spoken variations were often defecation or sexual references.
Jim acknowledged his grandfather’s presence by allowing their eyes to meet for slightly longer than if it was a chance meeting of eyes. Hamish remembered the first time he had realized his son had grown into an independent adult. It had shocked him that his own child had skills and adult friendships that he would not share. Hamish saw the repeat in his grandson and felt very old.
At the End of the World Page 5
