The Ugly One

by Leanne Statland Ellis

  There was the white rock with the golden ropes tied tightly to it in order to capture the sun and hold him firmly to the world. The priest leaned in closer yet to me. His breath smelled of aca, and shadows from the fire moved on his face in quick rising-and-falling motions, so it seemed as though Inti were waking and setting on the holy man’s face over and over again. His dark eyes reflected the hypnotic, dancing flames.

  The people pressed in all about us. Their energy pulsed through me in overwhelming waves as they moved their hands and bodies in excitement. I tried to distinguish among the faces. They were so close, then far away, then close again. Was that Ucho I saw right in front of me? Was that my sister next to him? No, it was an old lady. Her mouth was moving in prayer as she kissed her fingers and pointed at me and then at the sky. And yes, my sister was there too, next to the old lady. Their bodies were so close, their forms blurred. Chasca’s face spoke of great pride. I tried to smile at her, but I wasn’t certain my mouth was mine to control any longer.

  Behind the white rock, I spotted a carved stone jaguar. It hissed near the fires and wouldn’t stop looking at me. The Villac Uma’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He placed one of the golden ropes into my hands. I knew what I was to do. It was my sacred duty to help the head priest pull the Sun God back to the world.

  The rope was thick in my hands, and I could feel the holy prayers that it held. With all the energy and love I could offer from my being, I pulled alongside the head priest, pleading for Inti to rise and join us in another year.

  Inti’s first beams shone brightly and abruptly, striking the very center of the stone jaguar’s eye and giving him a fiery fierceness. The Villac Uma dropped the rope to the ground, and I followed his gesture. He raised his hands high and proclaimed, “Praise Inti! The Sun God has returned to us once more!” I lifted my arms to the sky in praise and prayer, as did all the people. The entire world was a blur of light and warmth. The earth below looked so beautiful, so loving and comfortable.

  As Inti’s rays showed strong and true, the power of the sacred drink overcame me. I fell to the ground in exhaustion, and the earth received me with an embrace. And here a very strange thing happened. I floated above myself. Not high in the sky world, as I had when I’d joined Sumac in flight, but closer to the earth and to my body. I watched in confusion as the people stopped their prayers and looked at my crumpled form in hushed fear. Chasca screeched and ran to me, placing her hands on my face and shoulders, shaking me and yelling my name. All of this I saw from above.

  The Villac Uma stood next to my fallen self. He gazed from my body to the people. “The Marked Girl is fine,” he announced. “She has gone on a sacred journey to Beyond. She is as the wind, able to travel to all times and places. She will return when her journey is complete.”

  Chasca was crying onto my cheeks, but I felt none of her tears on my skin. At the head priest’s words, she looked up. “She isn’t dead?”

  The Villac Uma shook his head solemnly. “No, she is not. Bring her to the Acllahuasi and make her comfortable. She will return to her body in good time.” Here the mighty shaman paused. His dark eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to me—not to my body, but to the me that hovered above the ground, and he offered a subtle smile. “Although before one returns, one must first journey,” he went on. “Strange, to be able to travel anywhere, anytime, and to choose to remain still.”

  I waited only until I saw that Chasca and Ocllo had carried my body safely to the Acllahuasi. They moved me tenderly, as they would a sacred mummy, and placed me on a heap of luxurious weavings in a private room. My body self was safe. I was free to journey as the wind. Come and see where I went and what I saw in Beyond.

  25

  Hanaq

  Beyond

  IMAGINE you are as one with the world, with all times, all places. Where would you go? When would you go? Listen and I will tell you of all the wonderful places and times I see in Beyond as the ever-blowing, ever-moving wind.

  First I travel to my future. As the wind, I watch myself journey to Cuzco with the Villac Uma to study the ways of the shaman. He teaches me the language of the stars and the koka leaves and the secrets of Beyond. I wipe away the many tears of the people. I speak with Inti and Illapa on their behalf and there is much, much rain for the earth. The Paqo, my old teacher, is there as well. He is a powerful priest who has returned to the capital city and is treated with the utmost honor and respect for having found the Marked Girl. With the Villac Uma and the Paqo as my guides and companions, I become a third power in the Incan empire. The people know my name, and I grow to become the Marked Woman. I see the people kiss their fingertips and bow in reverence as I walk by. It is a future full of hard work and dedication, but it is a good future, a good life, that I see.

  Now I see the future of my family. Ucho travels home and tells the people of what happened to me at Sacred Sun City. Mama cries when she is told I won’t be returning, but she is smiling with pride as the tears flow down her cheeks. Hatun is home now, and his presence helps to heal Mama’s sadness over my absence. My brother marries and has three daughters. The eldest is named Micay. I smile to see Mama playing with her lovely granddaughters. She takes each one of them to my huaca for special time alone.

  Here is my beautiful sister Chasca’s life. She is married to a handsome nobleman, just as she had hoped. There is love in this marriage, and her eyes sparkle with happiness.

  I travel to the time of the rains. They fall in abundance, and the people dance and sing praises to the Marked Girl who spoke with the spirit world on their behalf and brought a time of abundance. I visit with the corn kernels planted deep within Pachamama’s body as they eagerly stretch out their first roots. I watch as the people feast on the plentiful crops and go to sleep at night with full bellies and minds free of worry.

  As the wind, I visit my animal friends. The Mother Jaguar welcomes me to her cave home, and I play with her children. They remember me and are happy I have come to visit. I join Sumac in flight. The Handsome One seems to know I am there with him and calls out in delight. It is just as wonderful as when I was a young girl and visited Beyond for the first time.

  I journey backwards and watch myself living the early days of my life. There is Beautiful Round Face, me as a young girl, sitting on Mama’s lap giggling. Mama kisses and kisses and kisses me as I offer her a smile as bright as Inti rising in the morning.

  I move forward in time and watch the Mother Jaguar attacking me to protect her children. It is a horrifying scene of fear and blood and screams. It is no wonder my younger self chose to forget something so terrifying.

  And now I see my scarred self hiding throughout many, many years. I wish I could tell this girl that all will be fine; the suffering will have meaning and be worthwhile. But as the wind, all I can do is watch and learn.

  There is my first visit to the Paqo’s wasi, when his flute music called to me and I dared to enter his home. I chuckle, watching myself stumble over my own feet as I rush outside, a look of terror twisting my face. No wonder my teacher laughed at me that day.

  Here I watch Mama in her kitchen, preparing the evening meal. She hums her usual soothing tune, waiting for the water to boil. I watch in wonder as she purposely places the side of her hand within the bubbling water, a look of resolve on her face. Not once does she cry out. Her determined walk to the Paqo’s wasi, protecting her burnt hand from the winds with her cloak as she steps along the path, is one of a mother who will do whatever she needs to do for her child. Her face dares anyone who might see her to question her actions.

  I am Beyond, but I can feel my body calling me back to the Acllahuasi. It is telling me that there is much to do. The people need more rain, and it is time to begin my journey as a powerful priestess so I may help them. But there is one more time and place that calls to my wind self. It was a favorite of mine back when I was the Ugly One. Come and visit it with me as the wind.

  We are home in the llaqta. It is
night, sometime after Ucho returned from Machu Picchu and the crops grew from the plentiful rains. The people are gathered about the fire, their bellies full and content. Uncle Turu stands in front of the popping flames, waiting in stillness for the tension to build, and I hover on the edge of the crowd, as I used to do. It is a new one, this story Uncle Turu is about to tell.

  As the wind, I know that Uncle Turu’s long silences before he begins aren’t just to create tension. It is his habit to go over the story in his mind, to recall how he wants to tell it. Now he is thinking about the ending of the story he is going to share, as it is still new to him and he wants to tell it right and true. Let us visit Uncle Turu’s thoughts and hear how he practices this ending in his mind as the people wait by the fire.

  And so the Marked Girl stepped up to the Sacred Rock and placed her scarred cheek against its body. Here Uncle Turu imagines that he will turn his head and lean in, as if touching the side of his face to a large rock. The Marked Girl spoke with the spirits and asked for the rains. A mighty clap of thunder foretold the end of the dry times as the skies opened and gave the earth its water. The crops grew and the people feasted, always giving praise to the Marked Girl. She had saved her people, right and true.

  Uncle Turu looks at the faces flickering in the light of the flames and offers a smile. It is a story filled with joy and pride that he is about to tell. He is ready. He opens his mouth and begins. Let us whisper along with him, “Ñawpa pachapi, once upon a time . . .”

  Glossary

  Quechua was the runa simi, the human tongue, of the Incan people. They did not have a written language, and there’s no way of knowing exactly how their words were pronounced. But a version of Quechua is spoken today in parts of what used to be the Incan empire, and I have based the pronunciation guide on that.

  aca (uh-kuh): maize beer

  antara (un-tuh-ruh): a musical instrument made of wooden pipes bound together

  ari (uh-ree): yes

  aymaran (eye-muh-run): a dance that originated in the Ay maran culture and was adopted by the Incan culture

  campu (kuhm-poo): a pendant

  Capac Raymi (kay-pack ray-me): Magnificent Festival

  Chasca (chuh-skuh): Morning Star

  chasqui (chuh-skee): a runner, a messenger

  cocha (koh-chuh): a high mountain lake

  conkana (kon-kuh-nuh): a board game using wooden dice and colored bean counters

  curacas (koo-ruh-cuhs): inspectors sent by the Sapa Inca to take an annual census

  Cuzco (koo-scoh): Center of the World, or navel; the capital city of the Incan empire, now part of Peru

  hailli (hayl-yee): victory

  hanaq (huh-nuk): Beyond

  huaca (hwa-cuh): a spirit rock

  Huayna Picchu (hway-nuh pee-choo): Young Peak

  ichu (ee-choo): a gray-green grass found at higher altitudes

  Illapa (eel-yuh-puh): god of thunder and lightning

  Inti (in-tee): Sun Father, sun god

  Inti Raymi (in-tee ray-me): Festival of the Sun

  kachitu (kuh-chee-too): beauty

  kallpa (kull-ypuh): strength

  koka (koh-kuh): leaves or plant used for tea and for medi cinal and ceremonial purposes

  llaqta (lyuhk-tuh): a village

  maca-maca (muh-kuh muh-kuh): a plant native to the high Andes

  Machu Picchu (ma-choo pee-choo): Old Peak

  Mama Killa (mah-muh keel-yuh): Moon Mother, moon goddess

  Mama Ocllo (mah-muh awk-low): Daughter of the Moon

  manca (muhn-kuh): a cooking pot

  Manco Capac (muhn-koh kay-pack): Son of the Sun

  Micay (mih-kay): Beautiful Round Face

  Millay (mihl-yay): Ugly One

  molle (mol-yeh): a type of tree

  muña (moon-yuh): a grass whose scent was used to help with head and stomach problems

  munca (moon-kuh): a purple flower

  musqukuti (moo-skoo-koo-tee): dreamtime

  Musuq Simi (moo-sook sim-ee): New Voice

  ñawpa pachapi (nyuh-puh puh-chu-pee): once upon a time

  Pachamama (puh-chuh-mah-muh): Earth Mother, time

  pachis (puh-chees): thank you

  Paqo (puh-koh): Shaman

  punga-punga (poon-guh poon-guh): a flower that was often dried for medicinal purposes

  qanimpa (kuhn-eem-puh): the past

  quena quena (keh-nuh keh-nuh): a traditional wooden flute

  quipu (kee-poo): colored thread or strings used to record important information

  quwis (kwees): guinea pigs raised indoors for food

  Sapa Inca (suh-puh ing-kuh): Emperor

  simi (sim-ee): voice or language

  Sumac Huanacauri (soo-muhk hwuh-nuh-kaw-ree): Hand some Rainbow

  taccla (tuhk-luh): a foot plow

  tampu (tuhm-poo): rest house

  taskikaru (tuh-skee-kuh-roo): journey

  tumi (too-mee): a ceremonial knife often used in sacrifices

  Turu (too-roo): Bull

  Ucho (oo-choh): Hot Pepper

  vicuña (vih-coo-nyuh): a close relative of the alpaca and llama

  wasi (wuh-see): home

  Willka Rumi (will-ykuh room-ee): Sacred Rock

  Wiñay Wayna (win-ee way-nuh): Forever Young

  yachachisqa (yu-chuh-chee-skuh): an apprentice

  yanapa (yuh-nuh-puh): helping

  yunka (yoon-kuh): the jungle

  yuraq sara (yoo-ruhk suh-ruh): white corn

  yuya (yoo-yuh): remembering

  Author’s Note

  I have always loved traveling, and over the years I’ve visited many places around the world. Peru, with its lush rainforest and mountainous hiking trails, had long called to me, and finally I was able to go. My agenda was simple: to explore and experience a country very different from my own. One highlight of the trip was having a scarlet macaw land right on my head at a nature reserve in the rainforest. Another was visiting Machu Picchu, a magical, ancient city built high in the mountains. I wandered the maze-like passages of the ruins and imagined what it might have been like to walk there when it was a thriving, alive place.

  When I returned home, all sorts of unique souvenirs came back with me: beautiful sweaters woven from alpaca wool, antara flutes, small rocks and pottery shards I had collected as I hiked through the Andes Mountains, and, of course, many lovely pictures and memories. What I didn’t know was that something else had come back with me too. A story.

  I was trying to finish a novel that I had been working on before my time in Peru. One day I opened my notebook to jot down a few ideas, and suddenly the sentence I had always been ugly, as far back as I could remember was staring up at me from the previously empty page. Where in the world had these words come from? Who was saying them? I tried to ignore this unexpected character, but she was insistent. I drew a picture of her, and there she was, one side of her face hidden by a macaw that perched on her shoulder. Her uncovered eye stared at me hauntingly. I knew I had to write her story, and eventually I knew her name: Micay.

  I returned to Peru a few years later to research the Incan culture in more detail. Along the Incan trail, I met a modern-day shaman. For many hours, late into the night, I interviewed him as we sipped coca tea by the fire, surrounded by the towering Andes Mountains. He shared the white corn myth with me that night, a story that became part of this book. I also visited Machu Picchu again and imagined it coming back to life. We call it Machu Picchu now, because that is the name of the mountain upon which the city is built, but I wondered what it had been called by the Incans of long ago. For my story, I chose the name Sacred Sun City, but to this day we don’t know the true name or exact purpose of this mysterious place.

  I stayed in Machu Picchu well past sunset, gazing up at the sky. The stars were nothing like the faint, distant lights I had seen all my life. At that high altitude, they were more like close friends twinkling in the dark space created by the mountains that soared into the hushed air. It was clear that the people who built this place
were deeply connected to the sky, the rocks, and the gods they believed dwelled within all. Every stone was shaped and placed with great care, and one towering rock was expertly carved to resemble the mountain behind it. There was no denying the power it commanded in this special, now silent city. It became the Sacred Rock of my story.