Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  The day was warm, above eighty degrees, and as I walked around I was very aware of the stink of my sweat … beer sweat. The villagers had not allowed me to do anything much. It seemed they just wanted me to marry Molly Cervantez, enjoy the spree, get my wife into bed, put Tóolok56 to work, and that was that.

  Before lunch I had played football57 with the men from the section, Taat, and some of the village boys. I loved football and was a member of the army’s football team. The men from the section insisted I play for the last time as a single man, also reminding me that the sweating would help me get rid of the tremendous goama58 I had as a result of the party they gave me the night before. It did work and I felt much better.

  After the game, I returned to my hut. That’s when I had lunch, the bull balls bollo, being observed and ridiculed by my men. After eating I threw myself on the mud floor, resting a little. I got up shortly after and stepped out into the blistering sun and my eyes drifted to the Honeymoon Hut. I walked over and stood just outside of the doorway of the medium sized hut where Molly and I would be spending our first night together as man and wife. Actually, I was not supposed to be there. It was considered bad luck for me to go into or look into the hut until that night; but then I am Eutimio Chiac. I pulled aside the heavy woven colorful curtain and peeped inside. I shook my head. Sergeant Chiac peeping. All it contained was a bed covered with a white bed sheet on which was embroidered beautiful birds and flowers. I knew that the sheet had been made by the women of the village as part of the village’s participation in our wedding.

  The hut, inside and out, was decorated with large white and blue flowers, joined with green vines and leaves, all made from crepe paper Molly had chosen. Blue was our wedding color as it represented the Virgin Mary, Mother Of God. I pondered how strange life was. Mother Of God was also Bas’ Goddess. She was also Molly’s. I moved away from Bas and the thoughts of the tragedy that surrounded his death, and looked at the white bed-sheet and I had to smile. I am sure that the women of Santa Cruz expected to find it stained red in the morning. Well, they wouldn’t. Tóolok had already seen to that. I smiled again, shaking my head. Molly, my wife to be, was something else. We had fucked … made love as I am supposed to say … at the Hidden Valley Falls all night. After that, kaput! Mixba’al!59 Not even a little rub. Even after she had agreed to marry me, she had given Tóolok nothing. She simply told me that I had to wait, that I must live during our period of abstinence only with the memory of the night at the Hidden Valley Falls. I did. Well, my wait was just about fokin60 over and Tóolok was ready.

  Fighting to keep my mind off the horrors Molly and I faced just a year ago, I left the honeymoon hut. Also, if any of the women caught me at the hut, especially Nah’, I would get a proper scolding, probably a few hits with a pestle on the back as well.

  A bucket of water had been placed in my hut for me to bathe, but, not wanting to bathe out of a bucket for my wedding, I took a pikaado61 down to the nearby Rio Blanco River. The trail was kept clean and as the jungle canopy was somewhat thick, the nearby jungle floor was sparse in foliage. I soon approached the brightness of the open space of the river and the cleared bankside. There the villagers collected water, washed cloths, swam, fished, the nearby banks covered with bushes and trees, their limbs hanging over the water. There were several a’kl62 trees and a large pixoy or kaak batam63 as it was called in Kriol. Waha64 leaves were plentiful and tiny white flowers dotted many of the shrubs. There was even a sha-an65 palm. That was unusual as it was scarce, being the preferred palm for thatching. I supposed Alcalde Cucul had something to do with its preservation.

  Illustration 2: The Honeymoon Hut.

  I walked the bankside towards the waterfall, listening to its cascading water. My jungle was beautiful … very beautiful and I loved it. The soldiers were in the river, some standing in the waterfall, so I stripped on the bank and got in, swimming long even strokes whenever the depth allowed me. Of course, I immediately became the focus of many jokes, the men warning me that I mustn’t exert myself too much or I wouldn’t be able to perform my duties that night. After about half-an-hour, and after assuring the men that Tóolok would be able to take care of things, I climbed the rocky bank and put on my cloths.

  As I walked back to Santa Cruz, a dray of squirrels caught my attention and I stopped to look at them. The small animals were on a large limb across from the narrow path where I stood. They were eating small fruits, or nuts, and as I watched them they stopped and stared directly at me. They then looked at each other, began a loud chatter while their long bushy tails danced behind them. They looked back at me, repeating the sequence over and over again as if trying to lure me into their chitchat. Occasionally, they stopped to bite at the fruit they held in their paws, but even that seemed hurried, even frantic. I smiled. It looked as if they were discussing me. I was

  content. I loved my jungle, but deep from within me came the memories and I shivered as I remembered that other jungle, Sisimito’s jungle.

  A mild cool breeze softened the mid-day heat as a paap66 landed on a limb above me and started the most atrocious cries of piam! piam! piam! piam!, moving its body and head in all directions. I bent over, picked up a small rock and threw it at the bird. As the piam-piam flew away, making loud rowdy cries that echoed throughout my jungle, I laughed out loudly, remembering the happy days of my youth … those that took place in my jungle … with my friend Bas.

  Hidden xirs were chirping loudly from their leafy shelters and flitting butterflies abounded flying up, down, forward, and, at times, in growing circles. I smiled again and was about to resume my slow walking when I noted that the jungle was becoming unusually quiet. Sudden changes in the natural noises of the jungle were not to be ignored. It meant something was happening. It could have just been my presence, but it could also occur because a predator had walked into the area. The squirrels dropped their fruits and disappeared into the underbrush that lined the pikaado as one last piam! piam! piam! piam! cry came from the distance. The xirs were silent and the butterflies were flying upward and disappearing into the canopy, hiding their colors among the overgrowth’s varied hues, choosing to hide from the secrets of my jungle. The mild cool breeze was becoming a cold reaching dampness. I heard dry leaves on my jungle floor crackling, being crushed, and, once again, koal seed rushed over my body.

  Loud laughter burst along the pathway and the normal sounds of the jungle quickly returned. The soldiers who had been swimming with me appeared racing down the pikaado towards the village, still undressed, their cloths in their hands. “Hurry up, Sarge, or you’ll be late for your own wedding,” shouted Private Rhys, leading the others who were trying their best to catch up and pass him. As Choco and Teul rushed past me, they did high handless summersaults in my honor.

  “Get your fokin uniforms on before you hit the village,” I shouted.

  “Sorry, Sarge,” shouted Teul. “We’re streaking right through.” He reminded me so much of Bas, but, if it were Bas, he would be running way ahead of them.

  I shook my head wondering at Alacalde Cucul’s response to a group of naked soldiers running through his village. I did feel the urge to run along with them, but decided against it as I already had my bath and I wouldn’t go to my wedding smelling sweaty. So, I just shouted encouragement to the stragglers and continued my slow walk towards Santa Cruz and my future as a husband, and, one day, a taat, a father.

  The activity in Santa Cruz had increased. The musicians were setting up the marimba in the Central Plaza near the ceiba tree, or yaxché, where the reception was to be held. On a nearby table were drums, flutes including the chirimia67 or double-reed flute, and rattles. There would also be a guitar and violin combo, including a harp and a bass. Several beautifully painted ceremonial masks lay on another table. Santa Cruz was going all out and I was crying. Bas was not with me. He should have been, but he was no longer with me and tough Sergeant E. Chiac was fokin crying.

  I walked into my hut where a towel and my
wedding clothes lay on a small table. I stripped and rubbed down even though I had dried off after the walk from the river. Even our wedding clothes had been an issue for the Cervantez family; they wanted me in a suit and I had never worn a suit in my life. I simply told them, No! I was going to dress as my ancient people did. They then tried to get me to dress in my soldier’s uniform. I again said, No! For Molly, it was an even bigger battle. The Cervantez family wanted her to marry in a typical white wedding dress with a long train, and a veil covering her face symbolizing her virginity. She refused and told them that she would wear what she wished. She, nevertheless, assured them that the dress would be beautiful, but no train, no veil. Of course, she didn’t say anything about Tóolok having taken care of the virginity issue. I had wondered, however, if she had indeed refused to wear the veil because of the night at the Hidden Valley Falls, or if were just a personal choice. I soon tossed that query aside. It was not important. Perhaps, it was just that a veil didn’t go along with what she was going to wear and I had no idea what that was as she consistently refused to tell me what kind of dress she had in mind. She told me that I would see her dress when we were actually getting married, not before. I simply accepted, but grumbled that I hoped it would match my clothes. Oh, Eutimio Chiac! What a piece of fok you are!

  Yes! Last night was my farewell party given by my fellow soldiers who had come for my wedding. I had chosen a bar in San Antonio, that village being about five miles from Santa Cruz. The road was only a truck pass, but as it was not the rainy season it wasn’t too bad. The bar was a place Bas and I used to visit quite regularly and I wanted to go there, knowing that the memories I had would make him a part of the party. I had planned to behave myself, not drink too much, but that was difficult when a bunch of soldiers were having a party for you, especially one celebrating your last night as a single man. I had planned to drink only ten or twelve beers, but with Rhys and Pas68 opening the bottles for me, I must have had a case. There was even a tape recorder playing the latest music though Teul kept insisting that he only wanted to hear harp and marimba. I didn’t worry too much about my drinking for I knew that the men would take care of me and make sure I didn’t get into trouble. There would be no women, and there would be no fighting as they wouldn’t have me getting married with a bruised and swollen face. At some point, I still don’t remember when, I was carried into the transport, brought back to Santa Cruz, and dumped on the floor of my hut.

  Well, I had pretty much gotten rid of the goama and just wanted some rest before I walked the plank. I threw myself into the hammock, knowing that none of the women from the village would come in the hut and find me sleeping naked. Perhaps one or two of the soldiers would come to check on me, but that didn’t matter. They were my buddies, my brothers. I dozed and was later awakened by Rhys shaking my arm. He was smiling, dressed in his starched and ironed military uniform. The buckle of his belt, the insignia on his beret, and his boots shone so brightly that they would reflect Kinich’s69 sunbeams back to the god himself, dazzling him.

  “Time for you to get foked,” he grinned. “Get dressed. It’s almost time, Sarge,” he added as he sat on a stool.

  Somehow, during and after the trip to place a plaque on the mountain where my men had died, he and I had become friends. Bas was no longer with me and after Molly had gone to France, I was lost. I really needed a friend. Rhys stepped in and took that place for which I was very grateful. So, he was my Best Man. I looked at him.

  “Rhys.”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  I chuckled. “When we’re alone or not really active, call me Eutimio or Chiac. We are friends enough.”

  He grinned, again. “I prefer Stephen.” He laughed.

  “If it weren’t you I’d boot your ass.” Rhys laughed even louder. “I don’t use that name anymore.”

  “I know. Just teasing, Chiac. It’ll take some getting used to not to call you Sarge all the time. I’ll slip now and again.” Rhys chuckled. “Come on. Get dressed. You can’t get fokin married naked. The music has already begun.”

  “Call me Stephen again and I’ll call you Cornelius.”

  Rhys snickered loudly. “I hate that fokin name. I still can’t understand where the fok my parents found that one. Anyway, time to go.”

  I got out of the hammock and looked at my wedding outfit laid out on a small table. I put on the head band which was decorated with sea shells, corn grains, and small colorful feathers: white from the cot70, blue, brown, and yellow from the kuts71. Pink plumes from the spoonbill,72 and red ones from the ix-oop73 topped the band. I would wear no shirt. There were three necklaces and I placed them around my neck. Two were made with sea shells, one was a thin cowhide string carrying a kitam tusk pendant. I was already wearing Bas’ worn Green Scapular stained with blood … Bas’ blood. I secured my loincloth which had large flaps to just above my knees, front and back, held in place by a very narrow waist band. It carried a little too much embroidery for me, but as it were the villagers who had made it, there was nothing I could or would have done about it. The loincloth was not very authentic, the cloth passing between my legs bulkier than needed, being there just to hold Tóolok in place, making sure that Tóolok didn’t take a peek at the wedding guests … not that I would’ve cared. It had been made for easy dressing, definitely not like the ones I had used at Ox Witz Ha. I next put on two wide ankle bracelets, decorated with sea shells. I was getting married barefooted.

  The village’s cooperation for my wedding was tremendous. Every villager, whether man, woman, or child, was involved. I wondered at that for, really, I was not a very popular person in the village. Things had been quieter since my return from the Cockscomb Basin and our people were generally forgiving, but I had come to believe their participation was more for Molly than for me. It was an opportunity for the villagers, in their own way, to make up for what happened on Molly’s first visit to Santa Cruz.

  I looked at Rhys, perhaps for approval. He shook his head, smiling, as if in disbelief. “I suppose you are the first soldier to marry dressed in Maya robes. You’re almost handsome.”

  I laughed, then, suddenly, unbelievingly, I started to cry again. My memories had jolted me violently, and far in the mountains I could hear the cries, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi!74

  Rhys put his arms around me, for he understood. As our friendship grew, I told him some of what had happened in the Cockscomb Basin. I always wondered if he believed me. “Dry those fokin tears, Chiac, and let’s go,” he grunted. “Can’t have a crying groom. That’s for your mother-in-law.” He smiled. “You’ve got a fokin mother-in-law now. You’ll have to walk straight.” It was my turn to smile. “I wonder if she’ll be crying with

  happiness,” he continued, “or crying for Molly because she’s marrying a no-good fok?”

  “Fok you!” 1 retaliated.

  We left the hut, blinking because of the bright sun, and continued to the northeastern end of Santa Cruz where the villagers and guests who would form the wedding procession were congregating. The guitar and violin combo was playing, getting ready to lead the procession to Uch Ben Cah. My fellow soldiers, fully uniformed and very smart looking, were marching quite briskly through the village as they made their way towards the gathering. “There’re ready for us,” commented Rhys.

  Rhys and I walked across the Central Plaza towards the San Antonio Road and then along the pikaado leading to Uch Ben Cah where we were going to await the wedding procession’s approach. Clay incense burners offering incense of the Sacred pom and naba of the copal75 lined the way on both sides. Tutz76 fronds covered the narrow pathway and villagers were already lining it.

  There was an open area, a courtyard, at the base of the still unexcavated temple and some villagers were standing there, watching us as we approached. The underbrush had been cut, leaving only the tall trees that grew on the temple ruin. Although excavated and rebuilt temples displayed the magnificent architecture and skills of my ancient pe
ople, they weren’t alive; just dead stones. A mound covered with trees and bushes was alive. I did not need to have the flora of my jungle cut away for me to see what was beneath. I always hoped that as our cities were unearthed, some would be left the way they were found.

  We climbed the first of the three tiers, about twenty feet high, and walked towards a stone altar made from pieces of broken square cut stones that littered the mound. It must have been done some time ago by the villagers as vines were growing on it. To my left was a long low wall, also made from similar stones. Rhys and I stood to the right of the altar looking down at the trail we had just come through.

  The altar was plain, definitely not traditional, but it was part of Uch Ben Cah and my people. I loved it. A small statue of Mary, Mother Of God, was at the groom’s side, my side, along with a bouquet of blue pussy flowers.77 I grinned at the appropriateness or inappropriateness of those flowers at my wedding ceremony. Fronds of ek-chi-chan78 were scattered on the table. Again, I grinned at the appropriateness or inappropriateness. The English name for ek-chi-chan was ‘maiden-hair fern’ and it was used by my people in the long-gone days to decorate ceremonial altars. It also had a special meaning to me. When I fuc … made love to Molly at the Hidden Valley Falls, it was on a bed of ek-chi-chan I had laid her.

  A small clay pot with burning incense was at each of the four corners of the altar. Each was of a different color. According to my people, four gods held up the sky. Those were the Bacabs. The story was that the Bacabs were originally one deity named Bacab, the son of Itzamná79 and Ix Chel who was the Moon Goddess. He was not satisfied with being a single god and split himself into four entities who became the four gods of the cardinal points of the compass. Those four spiritual subsidiaries now stood at the four corners of the world making sure that directions always pointed where they were supposed to. Can-Tzicnal was North and liked White. Hozanek was South and preferred Yellow. Hobnil was East and favored Red. Zac-Cimi was West and was keen on Black. I shook my head. I definitely could not visualize the world with four Eutimio Chiacs.