Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  Sisimito harbors an intense desire to learn to speak and, in a desperate attempt, will kidnap children with hopes of learning to talk from them. The children cannot be rescued because the trail leading into the forest can be wiped out by the Sisimito who sometimes reverses his feet and runs heels foremost. He is fascinated by fire and will sit patiently by a hunter’s fire until it goes out and then dines on the embers.

  Despite all this, he is not invincible and can be outsmarted in various ways. He can be shot in the face; the rest of his body is protected by thick hair and would not be affected by bullets. Also, on seeing Sisimito, you can strip naked and dance and jump about, making him laugh uncontrollably until he falls down unconscious. If you dance in a circle he will try to follow you, but because his feet are on backwards he will trip and fall.

  Some say that he fears his own blood and, to make him run away, you can hand him your machete and, while his hand is grasping it, quickly pull the machete away causing him to cut his hand deeply.

  The Sisimito can, in fact, be tricked in a couple of ways because of his limited intelligence. When you walk away from him he becomes confused, thinking that you are actually approaching him. Sometimes, you can make a path of footprints that lead into the bush and Sisimito, unable to follow the trail any longer, will turn and begin to follow his own footsteps, thinking they are someone else’s. The ultimate way to get rid of him, however, is to set fire to his long hair.

  The above extract/artwork is from Characters and Caricatures in Belizean Folklore.

  Illustration 1: Chiac’s March in his World: Southern Belize.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SANTA CRUZ, TOLEDO DISTRICT,

  BRITISH HONDURAS (BELIZE)

  Easter Sunday, April 22, 1973

  It was just after midday in the village of Santa Cruz. As was normal, the smell of kua1 still hung heavily in the air after the midday meal had been served and eaten. That day, however, along with the smell of kua baking on many k’els,2 I smelled ixtama’als,3 roasted haaleb,4 bollos,5 pooch,6 ch’ukcua,7 iik,8 boiled and roasted q’än-jal.9 Two pigs and a young bull had been butchered the night before and the soldiers of my section had a special bollo made for me from the bull balls with a lot of habanero pepper. I had that for lunch, the men laughing and talking over me as I ate, reminding me that bull balls were good for the back, a great aphrodisiac which I was sure to need for the night’s activities. Other savory smells came from large pots of tiáálinbil10 made not only from the pork and beef, but from kitam,11 hack k’ek’en,12 k’ambul,13 ah-cox,14 and kolol.15 There would also be yams, cassava, rice, beans, plantain, banana, fruits like papaya, pineapple, and watermelon, sweets made from co’oc16 like tablayta and cut-a-brute, fudge made with peanuts, and wangla.17 It was obvious that the metate18 and the tenleb19 had been put to continuous work.

  Many of the village men were stretched out in their hammocks taking a siesta before they got dressed for the evening fiesta, having done their share in the preparations. No one had gone to their kool20 that day. It was not only because it was Easter Sunday, but because of the grand event that was happening that evening, at four-o-clock to be exact. Even the Good Friday religious activities two days before had been somewhat overshadowed. That morning, the churches held their Easter Services early, so that the villagers would have enough time to complete preparations. As Molly, my about to be wife, was Catholic, we went to the village’s small wooden Catholic Church for Easter Sunday Services. In my late boyhood, I had been baptized as a Catholic by Father Stiobhan, but as I grew older I had very little to do with religion. At mass that morning, it seemed that even the priest was getting into the spirit of the coming evening festivities as his Easter Sermon was short. For that I was extremely grateful. I had tried to get out of going to the service, my head feeling twice its natural size, but Molly insisted and so I had complied. Afterwards, we proceeded to breakfast under an open shed. I forced down some k’ah21 and a bollo, downing cup after cup of our locally grown coffee as I suffered. I saw Molly looking at me rather often. She shook her head once, but she said nothing. I didn’t think she felt any sympathy for me or my head.

  I tried to amuse myself at the table by bugging my Best Man, Rhys, about the Maid of Honor whom I really didn’t know. She was a colleague of Molly’s, both of them teaching at the same college in Belize City. Maureen was not stunning, but definitely good looking. She was generally trim and had small tempting ledges in the right places. She was a little darker than Molly, her hair wavy black, nose small, mouth a good size for kissing, and her eyes a strange green. I didn’t know if she was a good match for Rhys, but I wished him luck, anyhow. Rhys said he had seen her in Belize City, but didn’t really know her either. He had laughed as I teased him, saying that he never thought he would get the opportunity to dance with her. As the Best Man, he would. I jokingly told him he owed me a few chelas22 for the opportunity I was giving him.

  The village women were very busy, doing something, doing nothing. They were running up and down and around the tall Ceiba tree23 that grew in the center of the village, making sure that the tables were properly covered with traditionally woven white and other colorful cloths, that flowers were in place, that there was enough space for food, eating utensils, and drinks. There would be guaro,24 cususa,25 spudi,26 cashew wine, and even chelas. There would be k’ah, matz,27 and chicha28. Torches had been stuck in the ground for lighting at dusk. Alcalde29 Cucul had wanted to get tents from Belize City, but Molly and I disagreed. Yes! Molly and I were getting married and we wanted our wedding to be as open to nature as possible, even if it rained. We didn’t think it would as March and April boasted the lowest rainfall of the year in that region of my country.

  The wedding ceremony was taking place at Uch Ben Cah, a Maya ruin situated about one mile from the northeastern end of the village. At daybreak that morning our parents, Rhys as my Best Man, Maureen Wade as the Maid of Honor, Molly and I took the ceremonial walk to the wedding site, as was the tradition of my people. The path had been widened to accommodate the wedding march that would take place that evening and even the chopped grass and bushes had been removed.

  A patchy mist often surrounded us as we walked, reaching out from my green and pristine jungle that lined the pathway. The singing and chirp-chirp of xirs30 were everywhere. There were the early calls of the k’ambuls, almost overshadowed by a noisy flock of xt’uts31 in the high canopy above us. Almost silent was the gwow-gwow-gwow-gwow-gwow-gwot of an icim32 that hadn’t settled down as yet in its nest after its nightly hunt. I felt koal seed33 rise on my skin. An icim always brought back memories of dangerous times to me. I gazed at an áak34 as it slowly crossed the path ahead of us and I fought to push the dark memories away. Afterwards, we returned to Santa Cruz, attended Easter Service, then ate breakfast.

  There had been quite a stir when Molly and I announced we were getting married. It was an explosion when we informed Mr. and Mrs. Cer-vantez that the wedding would be in Santa Cruz rather than in Belize City. The Cervantez family who always fought the idea of me marrying Molly, after relenting to a very insistent Molly, wanted the wedding to be held at the Holy Redeemer Cathedral in Belize City. It wasn’t that I had anything against the cathedral, but I didn’t want to marry in Belize City and I didn’t want to marry in a closed-in building. Santa Cruz was my home, nestled in my jungle. We knew that we would have to live in Belize City because of my military obligations and Molly’s teaching career, but to be married there … my wedding would be as cold as the bricks that built the cathedral. Molly had reminded me that it was traditional that the marriage took place at the bride’s home town. She had even given me a lecture on the history of the cathedral, which I remember quite clearly. The cathedral was built in 1858 of bricks, most of which came from the salvage of the ballast of sailing ships that came almost empty to British Honduras to take on logwood and mahogany logs. The massive columns in the cathedral were of solid mahogany and the soaring high altar was of classic Greco-Roman des
ign, whatever that was. The interior was almost all mahogany and the original floor, which was wooden, was replaced by concrete and tile after Hurricane Hattie in 1961. Although, as I said before, I had nothing against the cathedral, I had no personal love for it either. Yet, I found it upsetting that a warm wooden floor would be replaced by cold concrete and tiles. We decided on Santa Cruz. It was not that I won out, but we knew that it was the jungle that had brought us together and the jungle was a place we both loved. Not to have our wedding and future lives as husband and wife overshadowed, we both forced ourselves to ignore the circumstances surrounding our meeting in the jungle and the dangers and horrors we had endured there.

  After we had settled our problems with Ma and Pa Cervantez, we had to take care of Nah’35 and Taat.36 Traditionally, in my world at Santa Cruz, once a bwai37 sees the spring chicken38 he wants to marry, he tells his parents. I, however, was no bwai. I was a full-grown man, but Nah’ and Taat often didn’t wish to see that. Once I told them I was getting married, they wanted to set in motion our full marriage system. They insisted that we set a date for them to travel all the way to Belize City to inform Ma and Pa Cervantez of my intentions. Normally, according to our custom, that first visit would be made at night. That meant that they would have to travel one whole day in order to inform Ma and Pa Cervantez, spend the night at a hotel, then return the following day to Santa Cruz. They would be traversing half the length of the country twice in two days. Once Nah’ and Taat apprised Ma and Pa Cervantez of my intentions, they, in turn, would agree to consider the proposal. There would then have to be a second visit and the proposal would be finalized without the girl’s participation. Arrangements would then be made for a third visit, usually done within two to four weeks. During that visit, gifts would be brought for the bride-to-be in order to assure her of happiness with her future husband. Also at that visit, which usually lasted all day, many family members would be invited to participate and they’d gather at the girl’s house. During the morning, there’d be a ritual where all guests held hands showing and promising respect for each other for all time. After that, everyone would eat. My parents would serve caldo,39 rice, beans, pork, chicken, kua, or sometimes escabeche.40 In the afternoon, after various small ad hoc activities, it would be the Cervantez family’s turn to serve food. After everyone had eaten, my parents would announce when the wedding was to take place.

  I knew that Nah’ and Taat only wanted the best for me, wanted me to marry as my people did, but I had to argue against everything they had planned. I told them that Molly and I had already decided to get married, when we would get married, and also that there was no way we could do the usual process dictated by our people’s marriage system. They lived in Santa Cruz, and the Cervantez family lived all the way in Belize City. I thought we had a lot of problems with the Cervantez family, but I was surprised at how adamant my parents were, especially Taat. They finally relented when I told them that the wedding would be held in Santa Cruz and that, really, there was nothing they could do about the unusual way our wedding was planned. They falteringly accepted and then became happily concerned about the preparations.

  My village of Santa Cruz was nestled in small rolling hills covered with jungle, rivers and streams, beautiful wild flowers, and wildlife. Just over a hundred persons lived in my village and most of them were Mopan,41 but I was Ke’kchi.42 Nah’ and Taat certainly didn’t increase the Ke’kchi population by much. They kept our family to four. Most families among my people number about twelve. I didn’t believe Taat knew about spence bags43 or would have even used them if he did know. Maybe Nah’ just drank too much ki-bix44 or, perhaps, Ix Chel45 must have simply said, “No more pikni.”46

  The Santa Cruz Creek ran through the western part of my village, a small bridge crossing it. Although the bridge was unlike one that would have been built in Pusilhá47 by my ancient people, that day it was decorated with crepe paper flowers. There were two waterfalls. One was in the village itself and the other along the nearby Rio Blanco River.48 Also running through my village was the San Antonio - Santa Elena Road. That day, unusually, there were several small trucks, buses, and pick-up trucks parked along it. One would have thought that it was the Third of May, the village’s feast day.

  Santa Cruz was first an alkilo, which meant that, at one time, my people lived in the jungle, far from each other. It was not until 1950 that my people formed a village, elected an Alcalde, and placed a Catholic crucifix in the one church confirming that the village was Catholic. It seemed, however, that the priests who came after Father Stiobhan were not able to keep out other denominations as now we also had Mennonites, Protestants, Church of Christ, and Baptists. Of course, we had villagers who did not associate themselves with any of the churches, but it was no wonder that only a few of my people’s ancient religious traditions were now practiced.

  Santa Cruz stretched along the San Antonio-Santa Elena Road for about two miles. Most of the houses were in the southwestern area of the village and the others were more sparsely spaced in the central and northeastern sections. Because of its size, its traditions, its remoteness, we did not often have visitors. That day, however, the population was significantly increased. Every house was packed with family, friends, and strangers, all gathered for one reason. That day was the day that Molly Cervantez would become Mrs. Eutimio Chiac, my wife.

  After breakfast, I drifted about alone. I looked at my village, my hills cradling it within the arms of my alive and green jungle. I reflected on how afraid I was when I considered asking Molly to marry me, even though I firmly believed that she would have said “Yes.” It was not that I was cock-sure, but I held onto the belief that if she didn’t want to marry me, she would not have left the Daughters of Charity in France where she was a Seminary Sister. Her coming back to our country fully convinced me that she had chosen to come back to me, to be my wife.

  I walked and looked around and saw the joy and anticipation in the faces of my villagers as they did the final preparations for my wedding. The entire village was invited and, of course, they had invited their friends and families. As the villagers were providing almost everything, that was okay, and it was going to be a great spree. I was very happy. Sergeant E. Chiac was very happy.

  A couple army tents had been erected at the southern end of the village. I had wanted to be near my buddies in arms so I was given a nearby hut to use. Of the section, which was under my command, seven of us were directly partaking in my wedding. My 2IC49 was Cpl. Pascascio E. who we called Pas, for short. Among the others was my cousin Pte. Choco L., my Best Man Pte. Rhys C., and Pte. Teul T. whom I knew somewhat personally. I was sergeant in the platoon Teul had been assigned to after ‘Intake’ and he had managed to stick onto me, not something that I allowed to happen very often. Perhaps it was because he was from Crique Jute and when he joined-up he seemed so lost that I didn’t ignore his obvious pleas; so, I took him under my wings. It was not that I was soft on him. At times, I wondered if I were not too hard on him. Yet, he always pulled through. The other two soldiers participating were LCpl. Gongora V. and Pte. Valentine J. We also had two additional soldiers who were responsible for guarding our equipment thus making us a complement of nine. Last night was the section’s party for me and we drank until they had to carry me to my hut. I gazed at the tents. They were quiet and I didn’t see any activity, but I knew the men weren’t asleep. Pas probably had them somewhere, sweating off the alcohol.

  Molly’s friends and family were also in Santa Cruz, hosted by Alcalde and Mrs. Cucul and their relatives, some of whom the Alcalde booted out of their rooms to make space for the visitors. Other guests were being housed in San Antonio and Punta Gorda.50

  Among our invitees was Father Stiobhan and I didn’t know why Nah’ invited him and why he even bothered to come all the way from the States; but he was in Santa Cruz and he was going to officiate at the wedding. I was dumbfounded when Nah’ told me as I had no idea that Nah’ had any contact with him. He was a young pri
est I often met in San Antonio when I was a child as he was in charge of the school and church there. Suddenly, one day he was gone and I had never heard of him again until I was informed by Nah’ that he would be part of my wedding. My wedding! I still felt resentment towards him for having taken me out of my jungle and Taat’s kool and placing me into that school at San Antonio. I shook my head. Perhaps I should get rid of that resentment. I had grown up a lot and I had much to be thankful for, including Father Stiobhan’s insisting that I went to school. Another person I was thankful for was Magistrate Longsworth who saved my ass by sending me into the military instead of prison when I was a foked-up51 man-bwai.52 I was still pretty foked-up, but since meeting Molly Cervantez I had been trying very hard to change. I thought I was succeeding, if only a little bit at a time. I kicked at a clump of grass. I would have to do much better for I was a Ke’kchi soldier from Santa Cruz marrying a beautiful and wonderful Kriol gyal53 from a prominent Belize City family. That did not happen very often.

  I loved the memory of the Hidden Valley Falls, but it was a clouded memory surrounded by dangers and horrors I didn’t wish to remember; so, very often, I had to put that beautiful memory away. Yet, at times, I forced myself to think only of the beauty in that night. Soon after, however, other memories would come rushing in, blown in by the wicked winds of Etzelal Iq’,54 and I would be torn from the beauty of the Hidden Valley Falls and Ox Witz Ha55 and plunged into the dangers of that dark and perilous time Molly and I had been forced to journey through.