Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  “That is a nice story,” I admitted, a bit confused at its purpose, “but how does it tell me what to do?”

  “It’s not finished,’ rebuked Xbalanque, “and if you do not figure out what the story is telling you, then you are not clever enough to escape Xibalba.”

  “I apologize. Please go ahead, Hunahpu.”

  “And I will tell you again, do not use our names,” insisted Xbalanque.

  “But how shall I address you?”

  “Do not. Continue, my brother.”

  “Vucub Caquix had two sons, Zipacna and Cabrakan, as arrogant as their father. They claimed to be the creators and destroyers of mountains, respectively. We destroyed the elder son, Zipacna, when we tricked him with the lure of a fake crab, burying him deep beneath a mountain.

  “U K’ux Kaj once more implored our help in dealing with, Cabrakan, the Earthquake God. Again, it was primarily through our cleverness that we were able to bring about his downfall, using his own arrogance against him. We told him of a great mountain we had encountered that kept growing and growing. Cabrakan prided himself as the one to bring down mountains and, upon hearing our tale, he demanded to be shown the mountain. His response was just as we predicted. We obliged, leading him toward the non-existent mountain. My brother and I are skilled hunters and we shot down several birds along the way, roasting them over fires, playing upon Cabrakan’s hunger. When he asked for some meat, we gave him a bird that we had prepared with plaster and gypsum, a mixture poisonous to Cabrakan. Upon eating it, he was weakened, and we bound him and cast him into a deep hole in the earth, burying him forever.”

  “Great victories! I applaud you both, but how does that prepare me for my escape from Xibalba?”

  “I told you,” chided Xbalanque, “that the burden of escape would be yours. Do you not see within our story, why we were successful?”

  “Listen and see within our words, Warrior, or all will be lost for you,” advised Hunahpu. “We have already faced the trials and won. It is now your turn to battle. It is you who will face them.”

  We walked in silence for a while then Xbalanque spoke. “We have two more nim-ja’s330 to cross. There is the Nim-ja’ Ti’ K’i’ik and then the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Puh. After that, we come to four sacbeobs that meet at a krus-be.331 Only one leads to Xibalba. You are lucky that you are already on the sacbeob leading to the west, the land of Zac-Cimi, but it will still be very confusing at the krus-be. It is also good that you have already survived the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans which borders this sacbeob and encircles Xibalba before flowing to the east. You have only the two remaining nim-ja’s to cross and, if you don’t survive them you will spend many tuns332 in the nim-ja’s, always fighting for your life, dying and living again and again. If you choose the wrong sacbeob you will meet deep gorges and, since you will be unable to climb out of them, you will keep going around and around, again for many tuns, facing many other trials, tests, traps, and deaths. So, Warrior, your first challenges are to cross and survive the nim-ja’s, and then choose the right sacbeob. If you are successful, we will lead you to the Council Place of the Lords.”

  “What …?”

  Xbalanque raised his hand and I shut up. “There are Twelve Lords of Xibalba. Although they are defeated, they still rule over their defeated city. The main Death God is Hun-Came. The second is Vucub-Came. They will be seated on their thrones that have been stripped of all jewels and adornments to show their Lords humiliation in defeat.

  “There are ten lesser Lords or Demon Lords, as they are called, and they work in pairs. They have domain over all our peoples’ suffering. They are responsible for sickness, starvation, fear, destitution, pain, and death. They will be seated when you are presented to them; but there are twenty seats, ten of which carry dummies, one looking like each of the Demon Lords. You will address each Demon Lord. If you address a dummy in error, you will be subjected to the great humiliation of the Xibalbans and the only way to continue to the next Demon Lord is by taking a seat that is offered to you. It is a hot seat, loaded with burning coals made from the bones of captive Warriors. Your flesh will burn, but if you do not endure it then all is lost and you remain here forever. After sitting on the seat for three or four times, your bones begin to burn.”

  I was sweating. From the attack at Santa Cruz, I knew that Sisimito would lead me into danger, try to get rid of me, but this was much more than I expected. I underestimated my enemy, something a soldier … a Maya Warrior … must never do.

  “Listen and see, Warrior,” demanded Xbalanque, sternly.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “Thoughts distracted me.”

  “Any distraction and you will never leave this place. Understand? Praise Itzamná! Are you sure you’re a Nacon, or even a Warrior?”

  “I am Nacon!”

  Xbalanque shrugged his shoulders then continued. “You will need to remember the names of the ten Demon Lords. It is up to the Council to decide if they want you to name all of them.”

  “And those names?”

  “The first pair are Xiquiripat and Cuchumaquic. They sicken the blood of our people.”

  Flying Scab and Gathered Blood, I thought. If I could remember the English names, it would be easier to also remember the Maya names.

  “The second is Ahalpuh and Ahalhana. They make the bodies of our people swell up.”

  Pus demon and Jaundice Demon.

  “The third is Chamiabac and Chamiaholom. They turn dead bodies into skeletons.”

  Bone Staff and Skull Staff.

  “The fourth is Ahalmez and Ahaltocob. They hide in unswept areas of the houses of our people and stab them to death.”

  Sweeping Demon and Stabbing Demon.

  “The final pair is Xic and Patan. They cause our people to die, coughing up blood while they are out walking on a road.”

  Wing and Packstrap.

  “Once you have passed the Trial of the Naming, the Council will decide if you will enter all six deadly Trial Houses, each house being a trial. Once you have passed those trials, you will be given a ballteam and you will go to the Xibalba Ballcourt to play Pitz. It is the same court my father and uncle played on, the same court where my brother and I played. When you win the game, which is your last trial, you will be free to leave Xibalba.”

  “Do I pick my team?”

  “You will have the opportunity to choose, and you will need to choose with cleverness. It must be an exciting ballgame. It would not be good for you if you were to be easily defeated,” said Xbalanque.

  “And the gaming equipment?” Xbalanque looked at Hunahpu who nodded his head. “You have proven yourself … a little … by surviving the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans. If you choose rightly at the krus-be, we will entrust you with our equipment at the appropriate time. Our equipment carries the blessings of the gods. The equipment for the rest of the team will be provided by the Lords.”

  “Thanks.” I looked down then continued. “Those deadly Trial Houses, what are they?”

  “I will give you their names. The first house is Ée’hoch’e’en Ja. That house is completely dark inside.”

  Dark House.

  “The second is Ke’el Ja, filled with bone chilling cold and rattling hail.”

  Rattling House or Cold House.

  “The third is Baläm Ja, filled with hungry baläms.”

  Jaguar House.

  The fourth is Sotz’ Ja, filled with dangerous shrieking sotz.

  Bat House.

  “The fifth is U-yeh Ja,333 filled with blades and razors that move on their own accord.”

  Razor House.

  “The last is K’íilkab Ja, filled with fires and heat.”

  Hot House.

  “And the purpose for those trials?”

  “For entertainment. What else? And take note, Warrior, the Lords do not want anyone to win the trials. Their only strategy is to have you killed outright during a trial, or demean you so much that focus is lost and errors are m
ade that result in your death. Once you are dead, without the blessing of the gods and special powers they may bestow upon you, not easily given by them, you will never leave Xibalba.”

  “But how do I win? I know nothing of the trials.”

  “You use trickery, wit, and cunning. Of course, you also use your strength and training as a Warrior,” answered Hunahpu. “You stay alive, and to stay alive you cannot be dopey.”

  I began to feel that I was really foked, that I would remain in Xibalba for the rest of my fokin life … or forever in fokin death. I really didn’t even know if I were alive. I shook my head, trying to lose the useless fatalistic thoughts that were intruding into my mind. I could not allow myself to think that way. I held onto Bas’ Green Scapular and prayed to him for help.

  “You pray to this Ix Na Li Kawa?” asked Xbalanque.

  He wasn’t looking at me and so I was surprised that he knew what I was doing. “Yes!” I replied. He and his brother were again quiet for a while.

  We kept on walking and there was a sound like rushing water ahead, but the sound was different from that of my jungle. It sounded heavy, as if the water was denser than regular river water, and the deep rhythmic beat of a bass drum was present.

  “Nim-ja’ Ti’ K’i’ik,” said Xbalanque. “How do we cross, Warrior?”

  We approached the bankside and even through the grey darkness I saw that the river was blood red. I knelt down, intending to put my hand into it. The surface resisted, not letting my hand enter. Although red, the river had a transparent quality, was deep, and there were large corpuscular bodies and smaller amoeba looking globs floating throughout the stream. The forward motion pulsated, the flow stopping completely then moving ahead, accompanied by the deep muffled sound of a drum.

  “Where does this blood come from?” I asked. “Is it really blood?”

  “It is blood,” answered Hunahpu. “The source is far upriver in the Red Mountains of the land of Hobnil. Some residents of Xibalba who are being punished by the gods for acts done on U Wach Ulew, and others who have angered one or all of the Lords of Xibalba, they are exiled there for the duration of their punishment. While there, Cuchumaquic makes them vomit blood continuously to feed the river. Now, Warrior, how do you cross?”

  “Can’t we just walk or swim across?”

  “Would that be a trial?’ I did not answer. “No! You cannot. You have to find a clever solution to cross. If you try to enter the river, it will hold you, and I’ve already told you what will happen to you.”

  “And you?”

  “Us? Oh! We can just disappear from this bank and reappear on the other. And, if necessary, we can do that for our servants and slaves. You have to win the trial to cross. And you don’t have all night.”

  I stood looking at the Nim-ja’ Ti’ K’i’ik, River of Blood, thinking how I was going to cross. I stared at the transparent liquid, the larger bodies, the smaller bodies … Just like blood. Just like fokin blood. I removed my machete from my scabbard, raised it above my head and brought it down forcefully on the river’s surface. The machete tore into it. The pulse in the flow became erratic and the deep bass sound was no longer synchronized. Then the flow and pulse started to settle. I watched as hundreds of the smaller bodies rushed frantically towards me, coalescing where I had made the laceration. Some looked like top-heavy stars with moving living fibers coming from their rays, others like the head of Medusa. Rapidly, the laceration began to close forming a protruding scar, a globular looking bridge. Just like blood. It’s sealing the wound. Looks like a, like akeloid has formed. I hesitated then stepped on it. It held my weight, but didn’t feel very solid. I wasn’t going to wait. I swung my machete again, making a second gash. It was immediately closed leaving another scar, firm enough to support me. I continued until I had completed my bridge and was across to the other bank. I looked back at my fellow travelers. “Aren’t you going to cross?” I challenged, sounding quite cocky. Xbalanque and Hunahpu disappeared and were immediately beside me, then the servants and slaves walked cautiously across my bridge.

  “Why didn’t you walk across my bridge?”, I asked, nonchalantly.

  Hunahpu considered me, coyly. “You did say you were from Pusilhá, but that is no guarantee you built bridges there, and if you did, we certainly don’t know how good they were.”

  I laughed out loud, shaking my head. “And the servants and slaves? Why did they have to walk across?”

  “The trial was for you so they were in no danger,” responded Hunahpu.

  “You did well, Warrior,” acknowledged Xbalanque. “You made it look so simple. Now let’s go on to Nim-ja’ Ti’ Puh and see what you do. Its source is in the Yellow Mountains of the lands of Hozanek. Other residents of Xibalba, also being punished, are exiled there for the duration of their punishment. Ahalpuh turns their bodies into festering carrion from which flood a continuous tide of pus.” I shuddered.

  We started walking, once again, supposedly approaching the city of Xibalba. The sky overhead, if it were a sky, was showing signs of dawn, slowly being taken over by a red hue as Kinich Ahau was beginning his journey as the Jaguar God of Fearsome Aspect in the Underworld. “There are no u-k’is-ch’imils, no Mam Kutach, no T’uyul, no other stars, no planets, no Wakah Chan,” I murmured. “I don’t believe that there’ll be a sun or moon either.”

  “No stars,” agreed Hunahpu. “But you do have the sun and the moon. We walk beside you.”

  “That doesn’t help with the lighting,” I grumbled.

  “You should be thankful that we let you see, instead of grumbling. You’ll get used to Xibalba and, be warned, it is in your interest that you do quickly.” He sighed. “This walk is boring,” Xbalanque griped. He looked towards me. “You do realize, Warrior, that we would have been in Xibalba already if it weren’t for you.”

  “I’m sorry. But how would you do that? We’re walking at a brisk pace and isn’t this the same sacbeob you would have to travel?”

  “We have our ways, Warrior. There is another issue. We can’t let the Xibalbans know that we’re helping you.”

  I did not reply, not really knowing what to say, not sure how much help I needed, just hoping to fok that they would help with what was needed.

  “Well, to pass the time, again, I will tell you a little about our early life,” declared Hunahpu. “Listen well. There is a lesson for you in every story we tell you.”

  “My brother and I were conceived when our mother, Xquic, spoke with the decapitated head of our father, Hun Hunahpu. Before that great event, when our father and uncle played Pitz, the Lords of Xibalba claimed that the noise disturbed them. He and my uncle were invited to play at the court in Xibalba. It was a trick for the Xibalbans used a bladed ball to kill and decapitate them for disturbing the peace. Nevertheless, we were conceived in our mother’s womb when our father’s skull spat upon her hand. Our mother sought out our grandmother, our father’s mother, who, with great reluctance, finally took her as a ward after setting up a number of trials to prove her identity.

  “Even after our birth, our grandmother, and our older half-brothers named One Howler Monkey and One Artisan, did not treat us well. Within hours of our births, our grandmother demanded that we be removed from the house for our crying. Our half-brothers quickly obliged and placed us among brambles on an anthill so that we would die. They were jealous and spiteful, fearing that we would steal the attention they received as they had long been revered as fine artisans and thinkers.

  “Their attempts to kill us were, obviously, a failure and we grew up without any animosity towards our ill-natured older brothers. They spent the day singing and playing while we were made to labor. Even though we had to hunt birds for our meals, our half-brothers were given their food to eat first.

  “But while they sang and played, we received blessings from the greater gods and developed our wit from a very young age. The day finally came when we used the blessings and our wit against them. Xbalanque and I returne
d from the field without any birds to eat and were immediately questioned by our half-brothers. We told them that we had indeed shot several birds, but that they had gotten caught high in a tree and we were unable to retrieve them. We took our half- brothers to the tree and they climbed up to get the birds. As they climbed, however, the tree got taller and taller and they were caught in the high branches of the tree. That was our half-brothers first humiliation. I then told them that if they wanted to come down, they would have to remove their loincloths and tie them about their waists. The loincloths became tails and they were transformed into k’oys, swinging happily in the tree. We went back home and Grandmother asked for them. We told her they were not harmed, but she demanded that they return. When they arrived home, Grandmother looked at them and was unable to contain her laughter. Our disfigured half-brothers ran away in shame.”

  I was listening intently, astonished, at the same time trying to remain calm with the knowledge that this was the world of my ancestors, I was still alive and, hopefully, not going crazy. I didn’t look ahead much, but mainly on the ground as we walked. I had to think and do and hope. We stopped suddenly and I became aware of the sound of slowly flowing water.

  “Nim-ja’ Ti’ Puh,” announced Xbalanque. “How do we cross, Warrior?”

  It was only then that I became aware of the putrid smell that surrounded us. It had completely replaced the strong smell of sulphur and the potent unpleasant odor of the Underworld.