Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  I wanted to shout at them to stop playing. Such wonderful music should not be the soundtrack for the horror I had found in that place. But I kept my mouth shut, knowing that shouting would probably bring only retaliation from Sisimito or one of his animals. I wanted to crush them all, turn them into pulp, and bury them in their sombreros. I wouldn’t be able to do that, but what I had to do was to be rested and alert should the possibility of escape unexpectedly arise.

  Incense was burning and its smell hung heavily in the air. Normally, I found incense invigorating. I always lit incense when I was accommodating a young thing. Somehow, incense always makes me more virile and my women more … accommodating. I did not recognize the incense being used and was allayed that it was not made from the resin of the p’om tree. I had never ever used that incense as it was sacred to my people. I would have been deeply repelled if it were the one being used by Sisimito. Repelled? Pfffff! I had been repelled by everything I had met.

  The music was the signal for quests to begin arriving. Suddenly, rising from out the water of the creek, by the bonfire, came a tall woman with long black hair reaching below her knees. She was dressed fully in white, in a flowing dress, with sleeves ending just beyond her elbows, the tail of the dress ending above the first coil of her lower body and tapering and flowing behind her for about three feet. Her bustline was deep cut and showed two voluptuous breasts, enticing breasts and I felt a sudden urge to rest my head against them. I fought the sensation, but I knew that it was only the bars of my cage that held me back from the magic of those breasts and the arms of the enchantress. At school, I had read of the Sirens161 of ancient Greece and their seductive songs luring sailors to shipwreck, but I had never dreamed that I would be in a similar position there in my jungle, the only difference being breasts instead of song. But was that still my jungle? I did not know. I did know, however, that I had to be vigilant for my jungle was then a strange and dangerous land and its folklore of mysterious and menacing creatures had come to life. Everything there was perverse. Even though the lady had just arisen from out the creek, she was not wet. Instead of feet, her body tapered off into the tail of a snake, with which she slithered around quite easily, always keeping her body upright.

  “Xwáay Kumätz,” cried out a flock of Yellow-headed Parrots,162 in unison, perched on tree branches over the Tata Duende musicians.

  La Sirena163 was the name she was known by … in my other world.

  She smiled and slid over to the table with fruits and started eating a banana. She turned and faced my general direction and I saw that she was eating the fruit without removing the skin. That was not the most remarkable thing about Xwáay Kumätz, however. As I watched her face, which was very beautiful, her features slowly changed and where there had been beauty, it was replaced by a gruesome monstrosity of a horse’s face alternating with that of a human skull. Then, the beautiful face was back again. My skin and hair rose and I became cold. Yet, the desire to rest my head against her breasts was always with me.

  “Q’eq Ja Wíinik,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  Negro de Agua.164

  Deep moaning sounds coming from the parrots were the fanfare announcing the rising from the creek of a dark-skinned man of average height and built. Again, although that guest arrived by water, he was not wet. Q’eq Ja Wíinik surely wasn’t dressed for the wedding. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t dressed at all. He was completely naked. The palms of his hands and the soles of his feet were absolutely white, contrasting sharply with the rest of his body and giving an almost disorienting effect as he walked . . . slovenly. On seeing him, Xwáay Kumätz swallowed down the rest of her unpeeled banana and clapped her hands, her tail wiggling excitedly. Q’eq Ja Wíinik walked slapdashedly up to her and kissed her on the cheek of her beautiful face. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him close to her, whispering into his ear as he placed his head on her breasts. She continued murmuring into his ear, causing his white palms and soles to turn a brilliant crimson, from time to time. The parrots started moaning again. They both laughed out loudly then she released him and he helped himself to a jicara165 of chocolate.

  “Patzapik,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  Cadejo.166

  The haunting clatter of rattling chains preceded the arrival of a large black goat like animal from out the jungle. It had long shaggy hair, the hooves of a goat, the horns of a bull, the tail of a puma and walked on its hind legs. Its eyes were flaming red and it was constantly foaming at the mouth.

  “Drunks! Beware! Patzapik is black tonight,” sang Xwáay Kumätz, as Patzapik approached her.

  “I would kiss you on the mouth, but I don’t want to follow you for nine days,” howled Patzapik, licking his lips. The red glow of his eyes intensified as he watched the half-woman half-snake.

  “I prefer you when you’re white, Patzapik. Then you look after the drunken humans, the males, for me … save them for me when they roam about late at night so that I can lure them away to my den, make them delirious with the niceties I slide to them.”

  “As you wish, providing that you will make me delirious too. White it shall be.” The metamorphosis was quick. A tall white skeleton, with long shaggy black hair coming off its skull, stood in place of the black beast. “Or did you mean this?” There was another quick change and a white shaggy animal, more like a dog, stood before Xwáay Kumätz. It was only the flaming red eyes that marked the animal as Patzapik.

  “Oh, Patzapik,” uttered Xwáay Kumätz, through her skull face.

  “Xwáay Ok’ol,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  La Llorona.167

  They all began crying, mixing the cries that would come from babies, children, adults. It was a harrowing sound.

  “On my white sole,” moaned Q’eq Ja Wíinik, flicking his white wrists. “Here comes that cry baby. Do you know how many nights I have spent in my river and I can’t have a decent quiet wake with some unfortunate human who has drowned? She sits there on a rock, combing her long wavy black hair … not as beautiful as yours, Xwáay Kumätz. Yes, she sits on the rock crying pitifully, hoping someone will hear her and have pity on her. Why does she come to my part of the river? I don’t know. I didn’t tell her to drown her bastard child so that her husband couldn’t find out what she was doing while he was away.”

  “I killed my child too,” crooned Xwáay Kumätz. “I don’t go on like that.”

  “Well, you just wanted to get rid of the damn nuisance, didn’t you?” sneered Q’eq Ja Wíinik.

  Xwáay Ok’ol stepped up to the enlarging group. “I’ve looked everywhere and there are no almond or breadfruit trees for me to stand under. I must complain to Sisimito about this. He should provide for the special requirements of his guests.”

  “Perhaps he can have one brought in for you,” sniffled Q’eq Ja Wíinik, flicking his white palms.

  Xwáay Kumätz snickered loudly and Patzapik made the sound of rattling chains.

  “See,” wailed Xwáay Ok’ol, “I’m getting all flustered. “My fingers are glowing from the fires of agitation and I’m beginning to float off the ground. Oh come, Q’eq Ja Wíinik. Hold me down lest I get tangled up in the branches of the ceiba tree.”

  “Just unagitate yourself, Xwáay Ok’ol,” mouthed Q’eq Ja Wíinik, without moving. “I ain’t holding your hands and have your fires of agitation burn me. Burns really show up on my precious white skin.”

  Xwáay Ok’ol appeared as if she wanted to cry. She was a very tall white woman with long black wavy hair reaching below her knees. She wore a flowing white dress like Xwáay Kumätz, but there were no sleeves and straps held up the bodice. She had palm size breasts, not the types that Xwáay Kumätz so openly displayed. She was gorgeous. Yes, she was very beautiful. I gripped the bars of my cage pulling myself back to rationality. Nothing was beautiful about Xwáay Ok’ol. I couldn’t allow myself to be enthralled. I had to make decisions. I had to make plans. I would have to fight those creatures … those things. But it was h
ard. What would I be fighting? I didn’t know what they really were and I still had difficulties believing what I was seeing.

  “Control your agitation,” directed Xwáay Kumätz, who now showed her horse face. “Now you’re growing your two tails.” Instead of two feet, Xwáay Ok’ol had two serpent tails squirming under her white dress.

  “Cover your noses,” barked Patzapik. “You know how Xwáay Ok’ol likes to push them tails into nostrils.”

  “And other things,” shouted Q’eq Ja Wíinik, grasping the head of his dangling cock and making a moaning sound.

  The flock of Yellow-headed Parrots made an eerie laughing sound followed by loud whistling.

  “And here comes the beauty of the jungle,” sneered Xwáay Ok’ol, skinning up her nose. She looked around. “I wish there was an almond or breadfruit tree I could sit under … or even a branch to have nearby.”

  “Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  La Sigua.168

  Coming out the jungle was the ugliest of the Kechelaj Komon I had seen so far. Her hair was the stem of a bunch of bananas, her mouth the jawbone of an old cow. I knew it was the jawbone of an old cow only because of the stories I had heard around the village fire at night as a youngster. Her arms were covered with the greenish hair of young corn and her knees, calves, and feet were made from guanacaste seed pods. I, immediately, went back to Easter Sunday and our delicious hamadili dinner when Hulse had used Guanacaste branches for the fire. I forcibly pushed the thought away. The dress Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’ wore had short sleeves and the skirt reached down to her knees. It looked more like a skirt and blouse and was made from dried banana leaves. She wore a black flower, the black orchid, in her left ear. In one hand she carried another black flower and in the other she carried a piece of stick with which she held up her jaw.

  “Raped any drunken humans lately?” asked Patzapik, now in his white doglike form.

  “Regularly,” cackled Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’. “They’re enough drunks for all of us. The last one I pulled into the bush,” she made an action as if taking her arms and wrapping them around someone’s neck, “when I was finished, he was so weak that neither the priest, curandero169 nor town doctor could save him.” There was an immediate onset of hysterical laughter, echoed over and over by the parrots. I trembled and it was not because I was cold. Those creatures of the Kechelaj Komon placed no value on human life. We were their toys. My alarm and fear of failure was being augmented with the arrival of each new guest.

  “Xwáay Éek’,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  La Sucia.170

  “Walking up the creek was a tall captivating white woman with long radiant yellow hair reaching to just above her waist. She wore a long flowing shell pink gown, drawn together just below her breasts. The gown was made with short sleeves and a deep neck line giving an ample view of her breasts … breasts that were not as large as Xwáay Kumätz’s, but strikingly firm and enticing. As she saw the group, she smiled and lifted her hands to her breasts, removing them from within her gown and showing them to the gathering under the ceiba tree, after which she replaced them and kept on walking towards them, laughing out loudly.

  “That golden hair has her fooled,” snickered Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’, rattling her jaw. “She thinks she’s the better of all us Kechelaj Komon.”

  “Nice breasts,” woofed Patzapik. “They look better every time I see them.”

  Xwáay Éek’ laughed louder. “Patzapik! And all of you. How good to see you.” She looked around. “Oh my! Not a grave to sit on. I’ll have to stand all evening long.”

  “You can sit on my back whenever you want, Xwáay Éek’. Which do you prefer? White or black?

  “I’ll take you anyway you come, Patzapik,” she answered, leaning over to kiss him.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do as the party gets underway. It seems that Sisimito invited more women folk than men folk,” observed Xwáay Kumätz.

  “Kitam Ajchaq’e,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  El Dueño De Los Kekeos.171

  “Oh good!” cheered Xwáay Kumätz. “Another male folk … even if he’s an oldie. I do hope he’s dressed better that he usually is and I hope he doesn’t bring his kekeos with him. They are smelly and they shit all over the place.”

  A cold breeze blew through the jungle and, for a short while, little funnels of the scattered yellow flowers of the ceiba tree formed and danced around. The cold breeze entered the cavern and I heard a low moaning sound. A male creature about average height but hunched over a little and walking with a stick, came out of the jungle. As I watched his face, I saw the beadiest set of eyes I had ever seen. His long hair and beard were completely white and he was dressed in a long sleeved grey shirt, and grey trousers to just below the knees. His tattered clothing seemed to be held together by some sort of magic in the cloth or it should have fallen apart. I did not see the kekeos. Kitam Ajchaq’e,” gave a loud eerie hoot then went around shaking hands with the other guests.

  “Caught any bad hunters today, Ajchaq’e?” asked Q’eq Ja Wíinik, flicking his wrists.

  “No Q’eq. But I did have several sick kekeos to take care of. Had a wounded mother. I had to apply a lot of spit to the mud I used in closing the wound. Has my mouth dry. What does Sisimito have to drink, Q’eq?” He hooted again

  “Chocolate.”

  “Phew! Nothing stronger?”

  “Oh yes! And jungle rumor says that it’s the bride’s request. Try it and let me know how it tastes.” Kitam Ajchaq’e moved away to the table where the balché was.

  “Alaj Chaj-r-ij Wíiniks,” cried the Yellow-headed Parrots.

  Hashishi Pampi.

  “On my golden hair,” complained Xwáay Éek’. “There will be men among them, but too small to do anything with.”

  “Oh, don’t be rude,” chided Xwáay Kumätz, switching from her beautiful face to her horse face. “I’ve had them run over my breasts … and in and out of other stuff. It can be terribly sweet fun.” The coils of her tail vibrated rapidly.

  Xwáay Éek’ rolled up her eyes. “I would be sorry for any of them who fell between those … things.”

  “They’d be crushed with enjoyment,” boasted Xwáay Kumätz.

  I did not see the arrival of the Alaj Chaj-r-ij Wíiniks. I kept looking towards the jungle, but I didn’t see them anywhere. Then I heard scurrying from the ledge across from me. Rising from the ashes of the fire hearth were about two dozen little people, less than a foot high. They did not have on any cloths and their skin was the color of the ashes. They were jumping up and down, tripping each other. They continued their frolicking as they leapt from the fire hearth to the ground and eventually down the path to the grounds under the ceiba tree. They immediately divided themselves into two groups, one sitting around the bonfire, and the other in front of the logs where the thighs were being smoked.

  “Xwáay Chikoop,” screamed the Yellow-headed Parrots. The entire evil gathering looked up at the ceiba tree.

  Ole Heg.172

  “I don’t see her skin hanging,” chuckled Q’eq Ja Wíinik, lifting up and down on his white feet. “She must be coming dressed.” They were all greatly amused and guffawed so loudly that Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’ had to get a second stick to hold up her jaw. “You want to see her forget her skin and fly out-a-here like a ball of fire?” continued Q’eq Ja Wíinik. “Just put some asafoetida173 under her nose. She won’t remember where she left her skin.”

  “Why does she hang her skin in the ceiba tree?” queried Xwáay Kumätz, shaking her head. “I could never understand that. Some human animal once sprinkled salt on her skin and when she tried to reenter it, her skin stung so badly that she was chanting, over and over again, “Skinny, skinny, yu no know me?” Once more, the pack howled.

  “I heard that if you throw wangla174 seeds on the ground, she will bend over and pick up every one,” laughed Kitam Ajchaq’e. “I am old, but I’m no dotard.”

  �
�Better than that,” giggled Q’eq Ja Wíinik. “When she’s done, she’ll throw them down and start all over again.” The laughter was again very boisterous and that time Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’ had to bend over and rest her jaw on the ground.

  “Here she comes,” shrieked the parrots.

  Flying through the trees was Xwáay Chikoop, using two straw mats as wings under her arms. She wore a red turban and red blouse. Her royal blue skirt was opened wide behind her as she rapidly approached the ground. Just before alighting, the wrinkled withered dame arched up then landed on her two feet. She was about five and a half feet tall and stooped over a little.

  Kitam Ajchaq’e walked up to her and gave her a jicara of balché. “It’s not blood, Xwáay Chikoop. But it’s mighty powerful, Mahanamatz175 must have enchanted it. Better let you and I get this party going.”

  Ah! Dueño! Why don’t you lose the kekeos and take me?” She reached over, bent down and kissed him straight on the lips.

  “Watch them teeth, Xwáay Chikoop.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t bite you,” she squawked. “Hold the drink so I can take off these mats.” She removed the mats and placed them carefully against the trunk of the ceiba tree. “I’m back.” Xwáay Chikoop cackled laughter and swallowed a gulp of the balché. “Puchica!176 Almost as good as fresh blood. It’s making me boiling hot already and no one has come a courting yet. Better get some for everybody. Yes! Mahanamatz must have used his enchantments on this.”