Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  “Better come out of the water now and dry off so you can apply the herbs,” I said. I also need you to apply some to my back.” I looked around. “Put your clothes over on those rocks, near to mine. The rocks are still hot from the sun and should dry them a little.” She did not answer but walked out the water. She laid out her cloths and then approached me. I turned my back to her after handing her a handful of crushed leaves. “Rub my back. When you have finished I will rub yours, then I’ll see if I can catch us a fish. You may have noticed there’re a lot of them here.” I felt her hands upon my back. I had not felt a woman’s touch for over a week. The only time that I was without a woman for so long was when I was on extensive training. I wanted to react to her touch. My body ached to. I fought the feelings that were beginning to rise in me. It was Private Cervantez that was rubbing my back, I kept repeating to myself. I was glad when she said she was done. I stood up, removed my machete from the scabbard and walked towards the creek. “I’ll catch us a fish,” I mumbled, not daring to turn around as Tóolok was fully manifesting himself. I’d apply the herbs to her back later.

  I was soon able to concentrate on fishing rather than other things and I did spear a fish with my machete rather quickly. The fishes were many and my prize was about a foot long. A good catch, but I did not know how we would cook it. It had been a long time since I had started a fire with stick and dry bush or tinder. I remained at the edge of the creek, cleaned the fish, then returned to where Molly sat. She had already applied the herbs to her skin, areas she could reach, and had dressed. I put down the fish on one of the long dark green leathery xiv-yak-tun-ich leaves then walked over to the pile of rocks. I couldn’t believe that my pants were actually almost dry but was very thankful for that. I put them on. It was safer.

  It was very dark as Molly and I sat on the warm rocks eating the fruit I had collected. Peeniwali were everywhere, lighting the jungle around us with their ghostly candescent lights, but there was no horror in their eerie radiance as it brought only calmness to the jungle night. The cleaned fish sat on the leaf beside me, but I just did not have the energy to try to light a fire. Concomitant with that was a sensible fear of lighting a fire as both the light and the smoke would be indications of where we were. I took my machete and cut off a piece of the flesh and tasted it. To my surprise, the meat had a sweet taste, not a raw fishy one. I felt no aversion after having tasted it so I cut another piece and ate it. The second piece tasted even better.

  “Would you like a piece of the fish, Private?”

  “Raw fish?” She skinned up her nose. “I don’t think so. I’m afraid I may vomit.” She shook her head. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I just don’t think I could eat it.”

  “Private Cervantez. You need protein. You’ll need a lot of strength over the next few days. Actually, it won’t be difficult as it doesn’t taste bad. It just taste’s sweet.” I cut another piece.

  “Please don’t force me, Sergeant.”

  “Kaax!”196

  “Why did you call me a chicken?”

  I looked at her, somewhat taken aback. “You speak the language?”

  “A little. Gus has been teaching me. That’s part of the reason why I was going to Santa Cruz.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  “Well! You may be sergeant on this … whatever … but I don’t have to tell you everything.” She smiled. “I just can’t eat raw fish. Anyway, I have had a lot of protein. Yesterday, at the, thewedding, Sisimito was constantly giving me pieces of smoked meat to eat.”

  I jumped up. “Fok!” I screamed.

  “What’s the matter,” she cried, in alarm.

  “Mix-ba’al!197 Nothing! No fokin thing!” I hurled myself off the rocks we were sitting on and started walking heavily towards the creek, then towards the jungle. It was dark and I couldn’t see. I began having difficulties breathing and just wanted to scream and scream and scream, tear my hair out. I started to retch but fought the sensation. I couldn’t let her know so I tried to calm down by walking to the creek where I found a deep hole and threw myself into it. I heard her calling to me but could not answer. She kept calling to me and, finally, I walked out of the creek. I trembled in the jungle night. I saw her on the rocks and even though I could not see her large eyes … her large and beautiful brown eyes … I knew that they must have been filled with alarm and maybe even tears. I took off my wet pants, wrung the water out, and again lay it on the rocks to dry. I had to lose consciousness in sleep, I had to sleep. I stared at the wet pants. I was not going to sleep in wet pants as I was always told that was not good for the cojones.198 I rolled myself up, saying, “Mix-ba’al. It’s just me. Let’s sleep, Private Cervantez.”

  She did not answer, but I could see the silhouette of her body settle down between the rocks. One day, things would be different. One day, I would find Sisimito. That day, I would kill that foka. I started to cry.

  I slept, my right hand on the handle of my machete and my left hand on the Green Scapular. Once again, it was a restless sleep of pictures of danger flashing before me. Yet, even with the dangers, Bas was not there. I did not feel his presence and that was frightening. At times, I was sure I was awake; yet, I felt as if I were still asleep. From time to time, I saw the bright moon overhead. It was already losing its fullness yet it lit the sani-bay with a white and brilliant aura. It made the water in the creek so clear and bright that I could see the fishes swim. There was no wind; yet, there were times when I heard the sound of the wind whistling constantly. I trembled and my skin bristled with bumps. I was afraid of Etzelal Iq’,199 Mozon. Folklore was alive and I was afraid Etzelal Iq’ would find me … make me sick. I could not get sick. And, there was the time I awoke and, momentarily, I saw the eyes of a mountain lion … a mountain lion with an owl on its back.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE HIDDEN VALLEY FALLS.

  Friday, April 7, 1972

  As the first sunlight touched my face, I was awake. Even though my sleep had been troubled, I felt rested and the muscle pains were almost gone.

  I looked at my skin. The herbs had done their work and the scratches were healing. Molly was still asleep and I decided to let her sleep a little longer. I reached for my pants. They were still damp so I decided to leave them in the morning sun a bit longer. I walked into the jungle to get some fresh fruits and returned to the sani-bay with my hands full. I started eating one of the custard apples and in a little while I felt a knowing mild gripe in my belly. Too much fruit, once again, and I wanted to shit. At least, I wasn’t locked up in a cage. I walked quickly to the bankside and cut some wild bird-of-paradise leaves. I returned to the sani-bay and dug a hole about a foot deep, away from the rocks where Molly still slept. I sat over the hole and did my thing after which I cleaned with the leaves, dropping them into the hole. It was very important to use a deep hole to shit in for animals would pick up the scent of human shit from afar off. Even a good human tracker could pick up the scent of human shit.

  The shitting was good and I was feeling almost human again. I washed my hands in the creek, rinsed out my mouth, then returned to the rocks to dry off and to continue my breakfast of fruit.

  Molly stirred and sat up. She stretched and smiled, absently, seemingly totally unaware of my nakedness. Good!

  “Breakfast?” I asked, pointing to the fruit.

  “I need to do a few things first,” she said as she got up.

  “If you need to shit, take the machete and did a deep hole here on the sani-bay. It’s easier than in the mud. Plus, you won’t have ants and other insects trying to get into your … your … your whatever you call it. Use the bird-of-paradise leaves to wipe. They won’t itch you when you’re done. Cut the stems at the ground then throw some sand or rocks over the stumps. Dig the hole deep. That way, there won’t be the scent of your shit left for the trackers.” Molly looked at me then walked away. She was about half way to the creek when she turned back.

  “May I have your machete?” she asked. />
  “Sure,” I got up and handed it to her. “Going fishing?” She didn’t smile or answer, but shortly after she disappeared behind me and I heard her cutting the Bird-of-Paradise leaves. I supposed, unlike me, she needed her privacy to shit so I walked to the creek and sat in the nearest deep hole. The water was cool and refreshing and I would have liked to just sit there and dream of good things, like ravishing a young virgin, but I didn’t have time for that; we had to get going.

  I came out the creek and jumped up and down, shaking the water off. Further downstream, I saw Molly walking into the creek, her cloths in a pile on the sani-bay. I turned away from her and walked to the rocks where my pants lay. It was still damp. I looked up to see the sun already leaving the eastern mountains, put on my pants then started the process of fitting on my jungle sandals. The p’om leaves were destroyed, all torn up, so I replaced them with fresh xiv-yak-tun-ich leaves that were even more leathery than the p’om. Molly was soon beside me, dressed in her torn pink blouse and stained blue jeans. I fitted her jungle sandals and I couldn’t help feeling kind of good as I worked about her feet. They were almost the same size as mine, as I had noted before, but they were very different. Mine tended to be a bit wide and flat. Hers were slender and elegant. I shook my head and cussed myself.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Mix-ba’al! Nothing.” I cussed myself again. I was admiring a woman’s feet and I had made her aware of it … and I was in the middle of an unknown jungle, half naked, and, quite likely, about to lose my life to some insane creature I knew nothing about. I stood up. “We need to get going.” I put as many cocoyol as I could carry in my pants pockets. Of course, Molly’s pockets could not carry any. They were just a feature of her pants, exacting pants that snugly covered her hips and … I looked away from her as Tóolok had begun to stir.

  I wish I had the time to make a sling basket of some kind as I would have liked to carry some of the custard apples and more of the cocoyol. I could have probably even fashioned something to carry water, but I couldn’t delay. I felt urgency for us to move, for us to continue away from Sisimito’s domain. We each ate a custard apple and, before leaving, ensured that the site looked as unused as it had been before our arrival.

  I had decided to travel north, avoiding a very high spur that protruded from the east, so we crossed the creek, walking on the rocks that were above the water. I did not want to get our jungle sandals wet so early in the day and I admonished myself for not putting on the sandals after we had crossed the creek.

  The day was a beautiful. It would have been a perfect one had we just been hiking through the jungle for our enjoyment. The sun was bright, the jungle damp and cool. Butterflies and ts’unu’uns were everywhere; but the jungle was tight and we struggled to move quickly. Our skin had either toughened or become more tolerant, for the scratches and digs we were getting in the undergrowth did not seem to hurt as much as they did before. It could also have been the herbs, so I would keep applying them. The pains and aches we would suffer through if we had to, but I had to prevent skin infections, as much as possible. I also had to keep reminding myself that I must remain cognizant of every eventuality, if we were to survive.

  Although we were not climbing over towering mountains, we were walking through hilly country. The hills were not high enough and the canopy not thick enough to have the undergrowth reduced, so we were faced with thick brush, almost continuously. I used my machete only when I had to, hoping that the resilience of the jungle would cover our trail. We walked on litter, as much as possible, avoiding areas of mud or clay where footprints would be left behind. At times, I heard Molly cry out, but I kept on going. I had to treat her as a soldier or we would not survive. I couldn’t have a woman behaving like a woman in the terrain we were in, on the foked-up journey we were on. It was only at the times when I did not hear her behind me that I stopped, allowing her to catch up, helping her along. Those occurrences were happening less and less, however, as the city gyal, Molly Cervantez, was quickly getting to know what to do, getting tough. She was becoming Private Cervantez and I wasn’t the only soldier in that strange jungle any more.

  About three hours later, we came to a shallow river flowing from east to west and I reckoned that we had covered three miles travelling north. We were lucky for a medium-size maami tree grew on the southern bank on which we stood. There were hundreds of succulent brown ripe fruits sprouting directly from its branches. I cussed loudly as I looked at the tree for it stood in the center of a chaparral of pokono bwai palm trees.200 Those palms were also loaded with bunches of edible purple fruit, but the small trunks were covered with long, sharp spines. The fruits were sheathed by a hard skin and, although sweet, did not have much pulp. Those were more for desert than lunch while, on the other hand, the maami would provide a good meal. There would be many ripe maami fruits littering the ground under the tree for a pungent flavorful smell was everywhere and was providing the most pleasant experience I had in days. Of course, those that had fallen would not be edible, having already been attacked by insects, birds, and fruit eating mammals. But there were many on the tree. We just had to get through the chaparral.

  We started circling the chaparral, hoping to find an entrance made by animals that frequented the tree for food. After continuing about three-quarters way around, we came upon one. We began crawling on our knees, me first, tearing at new spiderwebs, sending spiders running in all directions. We inched along for about ten feet then we were through and under the tree. There was a large open space. It was immediately obvious that many animals visited the site as it was clean of undergrowth and the mud was turned up in most places. The tree had a few low limbs that I could reach and I jumped, grabbed on to a particularly low limb, and was up in the tree in no time. I climbed up a few more limbs, picked a full and ripe fruit, and called to Molly.

  “Private Cervantez.” She glanced up at me. “Catch.” I let the fruit fall and she caught it. I watched as she used her teeth to tear off the rough brown skin, opening up the succulent orange-red pulp.

  “Don’t swallow the seed,” I shouted. She looked up again, grinning. The seed was a large glossy black seed about five inches long.

  I sat in a crotch, felt very much at home, and reached for my own fruit. It was delicious and as I let the big seed fall, I stretched for another.

  I decided to give myself the luxury of cutting the maami properly with my machete and eating it slice by slice. I was actually enjoying myself until I got a whiff of a faint, but familiar, scent intruding upon the air around me. I sniffed the air like an animal. I knew the scent, but it was mixed in with the pungent scent of the ripe and rotting maami fruits and I couldn’t place it. I heard a grunt and swiftly looked down. Coming through the opening in the chaparral was a large greyish black waari, its thick white lips set about two large and protruding ivory tusks. As it breathed, mist blew a foot ahead of the animal.

  Molly was standing with her back to the opening in the chaparral, just under the limb I had used to climb up. The waari had not picked up her scent, as yet, and the only reason why was that we smelled less like humans and more like the jungle but I knew that it would be seconds only before the waari was aware of Molly. Already, other waaries were coming through the passage so I climbed downward, limb by limb, with an ease and rapidity that astounded me. As I reached the limb above her, I saw a strange looking and very large waari come through the opening, one I had seen before. The other waaries had waited around the opening and, as soon as the strange looking waari came out, he steeped in front of their march. Without warning, the strange waari stood up and protracted its lips, allowing its tusks to grow in length. Its eyes glowed red in its white and human face. I, immediately, realized he was Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e, Waari Massa, and he was charging, yellowish froth showering from his mouth. I hung by my feet, grabbed Molly under her arms and wrenched her, swinging her upward towards me. Her body hit my chest and Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e roared past just beneath us
. Younger red waaris were then charging out of the entrance.

  “Hold onto the tree,” I screamed at her, “Climb,” as Molly’s feet were still dangling. I grabbed her legs, pulling them out of the way of Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e who had returned and had flung himself into the air at us. His white face passed so close to mine that in his primordial anger, he sprayed hot spittle all over my face. Many more waaries, greyish black in color, were entering, some running towards us where we hung while others circled in order to charge us from behind. Hooves were beating the ground, heavily, and the loud rapid grunting of the large beast, Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e, was again approaching us from behind. Thankfully, Molly was beginning to react and she was fully on the limb and climbing higher. I yanked myself upward, following her, and just in time for I felt the stiff sharp hairs of the brute across my back. My eyes jerked towards Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e. He was turning around in the air, bringing his tusks upward towards me. I felt the tusks tear at my flesh, but we were already moving apart. There was no intense pain as the wounds were not deep, but there was blood draining from my body and the smell of my blood increased their frenzy. When we were high enough into the tree and considered ourselves safe, Molly placed her fists against the wounds on my chest, stopping the blood flow, causing clots to seal them. We looked down at the savage drove, at over one hundred grunting, hissing, rabid animals jumping at the tree, trying to get us down. Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e walked at times on his hind legs, screaming at us. But we were safe from him, high up in the tree. It took about an hour before the rabble settled down and began to eat. Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e stood aside, darkly glowering at us with red angry eyes that hurled hate and fury continuously towards us. He did not eat.

  I was incensed at being caught. I had seen evidence of the waaries’ presence, but had not taken any precautions. We were up a tree and had no choice but to wait until the animals had devoured as much fruit as they wanted and decided to leave, that is, if Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e allowed them to. We tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible, eating some of the fruit from time to time. We didn’t have much else to do except … and I took great pleasure in doing it … throwing the large seeds at the waaries. Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e took no notice of my tirade until I hit him on the back of his neck. He screamed in madness, his red predatory eyes bursting alive with raging flames and I felt a very strange sensation clawing at me as if all the evil those eyes had ever seen were reaching up for me. I trembled and heard Molly cry out in fear. Suddenly, I felt safe no more. I turned away, settled down for the wait, and did not throw any more seeds.