Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  Father Stiobhan was standing behind the altar, wearing the traditional dress selected for the wedding. I glanced at him and he smiled. I just couldn’t smile back. I was still very puzzled at how and why Nah’ made arrangements for him to be at my wedding. She refused to tell me why and after a while I decided not to try to find out anymore. She did tell me, however, that he was no longer a priest, but still had his marriage license in British Honduras. That was also a big problem for the Cervantez family as they wanted, not only a priest, but the Most Reverend Bishop of British Honduras to marry us. When they found out that Father Stiobhan was no longer a ‘Father’, they were absolutely distressed, accusing me of arranging an unholy marriage where no mass could be said. Why me? But Nah’ insisted and Molly agreed. That I found strange because of Molly’s Roman Catholic background, but I must add that Molly and Nah’ were becoming very kaskas.80 They were everywhere together and I thanked the Lord. That was good.

  Mrs. Cucul, in a beautiful huipil and wearing a variety of jewelry, was at the other side of the altar along with Superintendent of Police, Richard Robertson, and his Mrs. The superintendent was dressed in his khaki uniform and wore a scabbarded pistol at his side. I wondered, momentarily, why a gun at my wedding, but decided that it must be part of his uniform protocol. His Mrs. wore a wide floral dress reaching down to her ankles, a red hat with a bobby net looking veil across her upper face, matching red shoes, and light-colored stockings. She also wore red gloves and I couldn’t help thinking about her curtseying as one of the contestants at the ‘Queen of the Bay’ contest we had for the Tenth Day of September Celebrations.81

  I felt koal seed as I heard music approaching. I never understood why, but everything gave me koal seed. Rhys elbowed me, quite solidly, saying, “It’s begun.” He laughed out loud and looked at me. “Don’t look so fokin frightened,” he murmured. You’re only getting foked.”

  I smirked, jokingly ignoring him as we waited, looking down the pikaado, waiting to see the approach of the wedding procession. “Yes, Rhys. It has begun,” I finally said. “And you’re right, my friend. I’m getting foked. With every step she makes, my internal self-government is rapidly going away.”

  Rhys chuckled. “Internal self-government? Didn’t know you liked politics.”

  “I don’t.”

  Well, tonight you won’t be worrying about internal self-government … just getting internal.” We both laughed.

  My section was first, marching in double file without weapons, Corporal Pascascio shouting, “Left! Right! Left! Right!” I became anxious, hoping that none of the men would stumble on the rocky uphill path. They didn’t. As they neared the altar came the command, “Halt!” There was only one sound, all boots hitting the ground together. I felt so proud. “Right file shuffle to the right. Left file shuffle to the left,” continued Pas. The men shuffled into position to the side of the road then stood at attention. “Right and left turn.” The men turned smartly and again only one boot hitting the ground was heard. They had formed the Guard of Honor for the wedding procession to pass through.

  Next came two villagers on horses. They were riding on wooden saddles made by my people. Taat never had a horse, but we made saddles for sale or gifts. The plain white wood we used was emery and it was good for that purpose as it did not break when nailing, cutting, and planning. We used only quality cattle hides. When cattle were dressed for market, the skins were removed and left in a container of water mixed with white lime for several days. That made the hair easy to remove. Each skin was then scraped and hung in the sun for about six days. It was then cut to suit the size needed. I used to compete with Taat to see which one of us would carve the best design in the leather. For my wedding day, the saddles were decorated with colorful feathers and the riders were dressed in white, each having a cuxtal.82 They separated, one going to each side of the path, then turned to face the approaching wedding entourage.

  Following the caballeros or horsemen were four young flower girls, two were from Santa Cruz and two from Belize City, throwing red, purple, and white bougainvillea petals on the ground. Each had crepe paper flowers in her hair which was tied in a bun at the back of the head. They wore white úúks83 and póót,84 the úúk reaching to just above the ankle and decorated with lace and ribbons sewn around it in three locations, the lowest part, the middle, and the upper part. The póót carried broad collars of intricately embroidered flowers at the front and back of the neck, at the waist, and on the short sleeve. Each girl carried a hand-woven shawl twisted lightly around the arms and back, and a basket woven from the jipijapa85 leaves and filled with the flower petals. They wore necklaces, earrings, arm and ankle bangles, all made with colored river stones. Like most of the wedding party, except for the soldiers, Matilda Moss, and Mr. and Mrs. Cervantez who blankly refused, they wore no shoes. They were followed by the guitar and violin combo, not including the harp which was at the reception site, all its members in colorful traditional Maya dress. After approaching the altar, the musicians moved onto the nearby grounds

  of Uch Ben Cah where they waited for the wedding vows to begin. At that time, they would play the Ixbenil Son.86

  Another flower girl preceded Mrs. Cervantez, my new nah’, who was escorted by Alcalde Cucul. Mrs. Cervantez wore a long lilac colored dress covered with rhinestones, and a feathered broad rimmed blue hat. She had blue gloves to match, and held high a stiff upper lip. She wore high heel shoes and was having great difficulty walking on the tutz fronds and rocky terrain. She finally forgot protocol and grabbed onto her escort. I sighed with relief for I was sure she would have fallen, roll down the small grade in a mass of colors, and probably broken her ankle.

  The Alcalde was dressed in a traditional dusty white short-sleeve V-neck shirt with red ribbons on the two front pockets and at the end of the short sleeves. The pants had red and white longitudinal stripes and reached to above the ankles. He wore a black woven belt, a jade necklace, and a leather bangle embossed with shiny river stones. That was the agreed male dress for the wedding.

  A flower girl followed and then came Nah’ and Taat. Nah’ was dressed in a white huipil ornamented with embroidered flowers, birds, and animals. She wore necklaces, bangles, and earrings made from jade. In her hair, she had placed a small bunch of fiery red cockscomb flowers. She wore nothing on her ankles. Taat was dressed in the chosen wedding cloths except that on the black woven belt he had attached his leather scabbard and machete. He wore no jewelry.

  The music changed. Drums, flutes, and rattles announced the beginning of the Cortez Dance which was taking place in the courtyard below. The dance dramatized how the church and army combined forces during the European conquest of my people. There were about ten dancers dressed in brilliant red, white, and yellow stripped costumes with cone shaped headdresses. They wore painted wooden masks depicting a man’s face. I felt my skin tingle and rise with koal seed. Again, the koal seed.

  Following the Cortez Dancers, Matilda Moss came. She was Kriol, still as large as when I met her on the bus, one year ago, and she still didn’t like me. A happier woman I had never seen. She was grinning, from ear to ear, was dressed in a fully embroidered white huipil, walked sprightly uphill, had a red rose in her hair and a bunch of pink frangipani flowers in her hands. She had informed us, however, that she had to wear shoes because of her diabetes. She had on flat white shoes, no heels unlike my new nah’. Miss Moss had met Molly and me on a bus travelling to Punta Gorda, the trip that brought Molly and me together and took us on that dangerous and dark journey; the trip that began the changes in my life. On Molly’s return from that journey, Miss Moss had somehow kept in touch with her and ‘adopted’ her … probably to protect her from me. She wasn’t successful.

  Next came the bridesmaids and groomsmen, all in the Maya dress we had requested for the wedding. Gus, the Alcalde’s son, and Isabella, my sister, were first, followed by Rosalia, the Alcalde’s daughter, and her escort, Demetrio Choc, a young Ke’kchi from neighboring Jala
cte who was trying to do a thing with Rosalia. After them came two more couples, Molly’s friends from Belize City. They moved to the area behind the altar, already filled with the wedding party and a beautiful collection of colors.

  A new set of dancers followed, playing their own music and performing the Deer Dance. That dance depicted a scene around the time of the Spanish conquest and the dancers were wearing colorful masks, each portraying an animal like the deer, crocodile, jaguar, or monkey. The costumes represented two Europeans, Maya men, and several animals. The story, done by body gestures as the dancers swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the music, was that one of the Europeans saw an animal in the forest and asked a Maya what it was. The Maya man told him it was a deer. The European asked if they ate deer. The Maya shook his head as the response was ‘No’. He explained that it was because they did not have the tools to catch deer. The European told the villager to go up a mountain where another European lived and ask him to hunt a deer. The Maya man prayed to Tzuultaq’a, God of the Hill, then went. The European got his gun and shot a rabid deer near a river. The rest of the animals in the forest, deer, monkeys, jaguars, carried the hunter out of the forest so that he did not continue hunting and so that they could all dance in celebration for a successful hunt. Normally, the dance was done to the rhythm of the marimba, but the marimba was at the reception site under the Sacred Ceiba tree. When finished, the Deer Dancers moved to the side, the path separating them from the Cortez Dancers. The music changed; only the guitar and the violins were playing. The villagers in the courtyard were also increasing in numbers as they crowded together, ensuring that they had a good view of the upcoming exchange of vows.

  I could not help seeing the young women in the crowd looking at me with bright black eyes, giggling. Now and again, one of them was cuffed by their nah’. I was not bragging, but I could definitely understand those young women. After all, I was a handsome young man with most of my dark muscular body naked, and I am Ke’kchi … I am a soldier … and I am a Maya Warrior called Fuck!87

  I felt a solid elbow in my side, once again. “You’re getting fokin married,” admonished Rhys.

  “Just my eyes drifting,” I laughed. “No harm in that.”

  “We’ll have to wait and see what Mrs. Chiac thinks about that,” countered Rhys.

  “I’m sure she’ll agree that there’s no harm in wetting the appetite outside as long as you come home to eat.”

  “We’ll see,” laughed Rhys.

  I looked to the sky. It was a beautiful April day, not too hot. Kinich was already beginning to sink in the west among the Maya Mountains, soon to become the Jaguar God of Fearsome Aspect. The skies were blue with only small scattered veil-like white clouds moving across. Far away to the southwest, the dark clouds of a thunderstorm were building. I shivered. A slight breeze moved the trees and bushes, lazily, making them boast all the different shades of green that colored my beautiful jungle. I pushed dark memories away. I was happy.

  I gazed down the pikaado and could see, partly see, my wife-to-be, Molly Cervantez, soon to be Molly Chiac … Mrs. Eutimio Chiac … wife of Sergeant E. Chiac. In front of her, blocking my full view, was the Maid of Honor, Maureen Wade. Maureen was dressed in a light blue huipil, embroidered with beautiful designs in white, the dress embellished with white lace. She carried a bunch of white roses and wore one in her hair. I watched Rhys stare at her so I elbowed him quite solidly. “If you play your cards right, I teased, you might get more than a dance.”

  Rhys laughed. “I wish,” he answers. “Oh fok! I forgot the fokin ring.”

  “You what?” I almost shouted in disbelief, grimacing at him.

  “Joking,” he laughed.

  I chuckled as I look back towards the wedding route; she was there. Molly stood alone. I felt my tears swell in my eyes and my heart beat mercilessly against my chest. She was beautiful as she smiled with the villagers on both sides of the path. From time to time, she looked up at me, her eyes held mine, and her smiled changed to a very special smile I believed was just for me. I shivered with koal seed even though I felt my body grow warm, and Tóolok moved reminding me he was there. Molly was dressed in a white huipil that reached to just above her ankles, not made of cotton but of silk. As she walked, I saw that on both sides of the huipil was a slit from the hem upwards to above her knees, mid-thigh. The huipil was embroidered with pale blue intricate patterns of hearts and vines. On her chest hung the medallion I had made and gave to her, made from Maya jade on which I had carved the image of Mary, Mother Of God. She was fitted with bracelets of agate on her wrists and right ankle, and wore a small headdress made with agate and blue feathers. In her hands, she carried a bunch of white ‘Lady of the Night’ orchids.88 As Kinich in the western sky sent his beams of light boldly through her huipil, I saw the beautiful outline of her body free of any sa’il-uuk.89 Rhys whispered beside me, “Fok!” and I felt his elbow in my side. Molly was my Maya princess and I was the happiest foka in the world. Even Tóolok was awed and rested quietly in my loincloth.

  Pa Cervantez, who had refused to wear the traditional dress, looked very hot in his grey suit, long sleeve white shirt, and red tie. Good! He stepped out and gave Molly to me. As I took her hands in mine, I prayed thanks to all Gods … Maya, Catholic, Mennonite, Protestant, Church of Christ, Baptist, any God, anywhere, and I especially thanked Mary, Mother Of God. We walked over to the altar, Rhys on my right, Maureen Wade on Molly’s left. We stood in front of the altar and the statue of Mary while Father Stiobhan looked at us, somehow managing to express both joy and sadness.

  “Today, we are gathered here to witness the joining together of Molly Cervantez and Eutimio Chiac, before God and before man,” began Father Stiobhan. “Traditionally, there would be the celebration of Mass and the Sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist at a wedding. Like Molly and Ste … Eutimio, we have all been to Mass this Easter Sunday and received the Body Of Christ. So, at this time, we celebrate this union of Molly and Eutimio by witnessing the love that they have for each other, by offering them well wishes, and by participating in the respect for life that we gathered here share with each other. Today, we are not only celebrating the union of Molly and Eutimio, but also the bringing together of two cultures, two peoples.

  Illustration 3: The Trail to Uch Ben Cah.

  “This, indeed, is a great day for all of us.” He opened his hands to the sky. “And look! What a beautiful day God has given us.” A distant rumble of thunder from the southwest immediately followed his statement. He smiled. “I suppose everything cannot be perfect.” He looked towards the guitar and violin combo and nodded his head. They began to play the Ixbenil Son.

  Illustration 4: The Altar at Uch Ben Cah.

  Father Stiobhan walked to the front of the altar and stood before us, still smiling. Other than the sacred music, there was not a sound. Even the thunder clouds were quiet. “Eutimio Chiac, will you have this woman to be your wedded wife? Will you love and comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?”

  “Skinny, skinny, yu no know me?”

  I cringed in past terror.

  “Skinny, skinny, yu no know me?”

  Thunder rumbled explosively and powerful memories racked my head, tearing at my consciousness. I looked at Molly and saw love and laughter torn away, replaced by the hunted look of deep horror.

  The first frantic scream came, followed by shouts and cries of terror; then the storm was over us. Etzelal Iq’, the Evil Wind, was ripping leaves off the trees, and bushes were being laid flat. I stood, paralyzed.

  “What the fok is going on, Chiac?” shouted Rhys. “Wake to fok up!”

  I looked at him. I was puzzled … confused … perplexed … benumbed. How could this be happening?

  “Skinny, skinny, yu no know me?” Xwáay Chikoop90 whirled out of the dark clouds, straw mats attached to her arms and beating rapidly, then screaming her terrify
ing cry she dove down towards the startled and terrified villagers.

  Rhys grabbed me and shook me. People were beginning to run and panic was spreading among the quests. Molly held on to me then reached up and pulled down my face towards hers. “They’re back,” she whispered, her face ashen and pained. “They’re back, Eutimio. Sisimito has come back for me.”

  Corporal Pascascio was at my side. “What the fok is this?” he cried out.

  I bellowed in anger, my howl rising above the terror of the developing disaster, trying to become myself again. “Pas! Get the section to the tents for their rifles,” I shouted. “Shoot anything that isn’t normal.” My men took off down the pikaado, being pressured onward by Pas and then, once again, I stared.

  Thunder roared overhead and, suddenly, dark ominous clouds were reaching towards the ground and for us. Lightning blazed, hurling down large hail, tearing down branches from the trees lining the pikaado. Robertson was at my side. “Get Molly out of here,” I screamed, and Robertson started rushing her away. Molly resisted, looking tearfully at me. “Get out of here, Molly,” I shouted.

  The women from the wedding party were gathering around Molly and Robertson, their faces bewildered and terrorized. Adults were pulling the frightened flower girls together, trying to get them to run back towards the village. Guests were tripping over guests, some falling and rolling down to the courtyard. The horses were rearing and the riders were having trouble keeping them from trampling the villagers. Screams had replaced the soft music of the Ixbenil Son and the quiet beauty of a few moments ago had been replaced by pandemonium. Rhys shook me violently. I saw him shouting at me, but I could scarcely hear him. I fought to regain myself. I must. I must for I am Ke’kchi … I am a soldier … I am a Maya Warrior called Fuck. I was back.