Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  Xwáay Chikoop hovered, cackling and shrieking with satisfaction. Villagers rushed from their huts. Others that were outside, rushed inside. Strong winds tore at roofs and buildings, crushing them, as Etzelal Iq’ was unleashed from the violently driving storm clouds.

  Xwáay Kumätz emerged from the waters of the creek where the ballgame, the washing, and the children playing had ceased. Yet, her transparent white dress and her long black hair were not wet and water drops had not formed on her skin. The water around her grew agitated, rising and falling, as her tail swirled madly. The women, the men, and the children were petrified. Those who had not escaped early and were at a good distance returned as Xwáay Kumätz’s enchantment called to them. They no longer wanted to go away so, instead, they came towards her. She looked at the villagers and their children and wept for she remembered the child, her child, she had grown tired of and thrown into a creek to drown. Her face, her beautiful aspect, slowly became the skull and the villagers’ features were distorted with fear, wanting to move, to run, but they couldn’t. Her weeping stopped and her tail curved out of the creek and into the air then lashed out at a woman. The tail encircled the woman pulling her quickly into the creek, continuously holding her there until she drowned … and the dammed woman did not struggle. Tears flowed from Xwáay Kumätz’s face.

  Xwáay Ok’ol rose from the turbulent waters and sat on a large boulder in the creek, combing her long wavy black hair, just as Xwáay Kumätz’s tail took a male child from its na’’s arms and submerged him slowly into the creek. The na’ wailed pitifully, wanting to reach for the child, but she could not move. Xwáay Ok’ol joined the na’ in her torment, crying wretchedly and loudly. “My own child,” she howled. “I too drowned my own love child because of fear for my husband. And it was his fault. He stayed away too long and I was young and beautiful. I overflowed with desire that had to be satisfied.” She threw down her comb then reached out and the comb came back to her hand. She began combing her hair again, murmuring, “I am still beautiful, but cursed.”

  Xwáay Ok’ol cried hauntingly and the men on the bank began moving into the creek towards her. “Look how they come to my beauty. Look how they come to their death.” And, the men came on to Xwáay Ok’ol and Xwáay Kumätz. Those that wore loincloths removed them and they embraced the two creatures with their naked bodies, making love to them. As the bodies of the two creatures transformed over and over again in their evil ecstasy, each man had the body, the breasts, the lips, the erogenous flesh of Xwáay Kumätz or Xwáay Ok’ol for himself … singly or both at the same instant in time.

  Thunder burst into flames as lightening rose from the ground demolishing a nearby hut and setting fire to many others. “Kill them all! Xwáay Kumätz! Kill them all!” Xwáay Ok’ol shrieked. “We’ve had enough of them.” Xwáay Kumätz’s tail lashed out, crushing the men, tearing arms, legs and torsos, as their wives, sweethearts and children watched and screamed out in terror. Then they too were quickly quietened. For that moment, even Etzelal Iq’ had calmed and there was only the sound of the creek flowing around the broken bodies and Xwáay Ok’ol’s pitiful lamentation mixed with the moaning sounds of Q’eq Ja Wíinik as he jumped playfully from body to body, his cockhead bouncing from knee to knee.

  Thunder and fire erupted once again and tearing from out the jungle were Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e and over a thousand of his Hach-k’ek’en Warriors. They razed the huts in their path, using their tusks to slash open the bodies of the defenseless koolnáals255 and their families until the white sacbeobs ran red with blood from the hearts of the fallen victims … for the hearts continued beating and pumping blood for a long time after they had been uprooted from their bodies. Echo upon echo did the sound of terror and death traverse the hills and valleys of the land as the darkened and boiling heavens descended upon Tipú. Yet, above the strangled cries and screams for help, the wailing of Xwáay Ok’ol was heard.

  A few tried to make it to the jungle, but Xtabai awaited them. The women and children she whipped with her long hair, sending them back into Tipú to await their deaths, the men she quickly sent to the Underworld or had them throw themselves into the village well. Others just looked at her and developed high fevers and hemorrhaged through their skin and eyes. In a few seconds they were dead.

  Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’ followed the women and children Xtabai had whipped, beating them over their heads with her jawbone. The Alaj Ponopiks tripped the running villagers and as they fell, Tata Ponopik ripped off their thumbs, from which they immediately bled to death. Patzapik, the skeleton, amidst the sound of rattling chains, bit off the head of anyone he found.

  The few who escaped into the jungle were hunted down by Kitam Ajchaq’e whose collared pikayris sought and killed them. Yet, amidst all the chaos, three men escaped and they later met in the jungle and made their way towards the nearby city.

  The very foundation of Tipú wept that evening and as the boiling storm lifted from the remains of the village, oc256 and ch’om257 flocks began congregating over the ruins until the heavens were no longer seen … had there been anyone alive to see the stars and the moon … and walking slowly down the Chúumuk Sacbeob was a mountain lion with an owl on its back, to the crazy laughter of Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha …

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE NIM-Q’IJ (ROYAL) CITY OF OX WITZ HA.

  Sunday, April 9, 1972

  There was no movement when I awoke; however, I could see the dim glow of morning around the edges of my blindfold. I put my hand over the side of the boat and touched sand and rocks in the low water. We had shored. I wanted to piss badly so I simply stood up and aimed where I knew the water was. It was a blessed relief and I heard no opposition. When I was finished, I sat back down in the doari.

  There was soft talking, not far from where I sat. I was not sure who they were, but from the conversation it seemed to be the servants and slaves as they were discussing the amount of paddling they had done. I gathered that there were three doaris and four paddlers in each. They had paddled all night and were being given only one hour’s rest before they would have to start again. One of them suggested they get some sleep and, in a short time, I heard their voices no more.

  As the minutes passed in quiet, I occasionally heard the sound of laughter in the distance and I supposed that the nobles were having breakfast while the paddlers rested. I was startled when I heard the voice of my guard beside me. “Here’s some food. If you’re thirsty, you can drink water directly from the river. It’s only your piss that’s in it.” He laughed as he placed a plate in my hand.

  “Do you see Molly? Where is she?”

  “Your woman?”

  “Yes! My woman.”

  “She’s okay. She’s still asleep in another jukub, so we’ll feed her when she awakens. Now eat. I don’t think we’ll be stopping to eat any time soon after this. The Halach Uinic wants to arrive as early as possible”.

  “Arrive where?”

  “You know, you spoiled our hunting trip.”

  “Arrive where?” I insisted.

  “You ask too many questions, Ke’kchi. You forget you’re a prisoner. Already, you almost got a bate’ in your belly.” He did not continue to speak, immediately, but I knew he was still there as I heard his breathing. “Do you like where your heart beats? I like where mine beats. It is sometimes better to remain quiet. We are going to Ox Witz Ha, the Nim-q’ij City of the Halach Uinic. Now, eat your food. We will soon be leaving.”

  “The Halach Uinic said he was Ajawinel K’an II.”

  “He is, but he uses the title of Halach Uinic.”

  “Why?”

  “Did I not just warn you about your questions?”

  “You did, but how can I know if I don’t ask?”

  “Just be happy that you are alive. And your woman.”

  “Can I remove my blindfold?”

  He signed. “No!”

  “What is it you’re giving
me to eat,” I asked. He did not answer immediately, but I could feel him staring at me.

  “Smoked ch’o’,258 ikox,259 and aqaj260 he’s.261 On these trips, we all eat like ajawinels.”

  He said no more and I heard him move away. Smoked mouse or rat, mushrooms, and wasp larvae. The food of kings. I had eaten almost everything that walked in my jungle … but mouse or rat? I just hoped that my stomach could tolerate such royal food as I had to eat to keep up my strength. Hopefully, Molly would not ask what the food was. Sometimes, indeed, it was best to keep one’s mouth shut, I thought, as I crunched on the wasp larvae that were still alive and moving all around my mouth. My Saint Stephen should have done that, keep his mouth shut, then he wouldn’t have been martyred. But then, maybe, he wanted to be martyred. Not me! Nevertheless, I ate everything and washed it down with some water from the river. The water was sweet. Then I remembered the guard’s comment about my pissing in it. Well, at that time, I was not the least concerned about drinking my piss. It would have followed the stream a long time ago, anyway.

  Within the hour, we were again on the move. We were still paddling along with the flow of the river so I knew we were continuing generally westward and away from the Main Divide. I still used the names I knew as I tried to keep track of where I was even though I did not have any good reason to believe that I was still in my country, my jungle. It was important for my sanity that my deductions were based on familiar names and landmarks I hoped still existed. The rising sun was shining at an angle to the left side of my face, therefore, we were not going directly west but more southwesterly. Occasionally, I heard the bottom of the doari scrape against rock or some type of debris. The creek was getting shallower and, at times, the doari would pass through areas where the sound of rushing water was loud and the doari would lurch from side to side and even pitch downward and forward rapidly. I heard no expressions of alarm and I reasoned that the party was accustomed to cascading down those rivers; yet, I gripped the sides of the doari until my hands cramped.

  It was just after midday when we stopped again. For most of the past two or three hours we were going more westward for the sun had been shining mostly on the back of my head. I was told to get out of the doari by my guard and he led me to the bank. That time, I heard Molly calling me and I quickly made my way towards her voice. I touched her and felt for her hands, telling her it was me. As we sat, I heard the doaris being hauled onto the sand and then much further up the bank.

  “A Runner comes,” shouted my guard, who had not left my side. There was a brisk amount of talking then my guard told us to start walking. The guards did not part our hands, at first, but, as we began picking up our pace, my guard separated us saying that we were slowing them down. They allowed us to run beside each other, however, and it was comforting to hear Molly breathing beside me.

  We ran downhill, most of the time on a shallow incline. Occasionally, there was a short elevation, but we were racing on a path that was easier than the ones before and the pace was not as hectic. We rested twice and there were occasional but brief conversations. I did not feel the heat of the sun on me and did not see an intense glare so I knew we were running under jungle cover. When I did feel the sun on me, it was on the right side of my face, and that indicated we were still travelling to the south or southwest as it was after midday and the sun was inclined to the west. After some three hours, we stopped again. The sun was then beating full on my face, the glare strong enough that even under my blindfold I had to shut my eyes. That meant it would be about three or four-o-clock.

  My guard removed my blindfold. It was off, but I couldn’t see because of the strong sunlight and I covered my eyes with my hands. “Fok! It’s too bright,” I complained quietly to myself. Only slowly did my eyes accommodate and as they did, I saw Molly across from me, watching me. I beamed in relief. Thankfully, she was okay. She smiled back, but I could tell in her eyes that her smile was but a blanket covering the fear she felt.

  As we resumed running, the skies overhead became dotted with soaring ocs and, occasionally, a larger white bird with black edged wings, the ch’om. The reason for those birds became obvious as the sacbeob we were on passed through a deserted village or town, or what was left of it.

  “Tipú,” said one of the guards, quietly, as he stared, as if in shock, at what we were passing through. Flocks of vultures were on the ground pushing and shoving as their beaks and claws tore into hundreds of carcasses that were scattered throughout the ruins. Every hut was burnt, some still smoldering. Village trees were blackened, many split down the middle. Sparks rose from those that still flamed, making miniature fireballs as they rose towards the sky. Some trees appeared to have been reduced to ashes, yet, they still stood with trunk and branches. I looked for Molly. She stared directly ahead, intense lines marking her forehead. The nobles kept gazing at Tipú, their faces expressionless, not pausing a step in their run. Intermittently, they spoke to each other, their voices anxious, but they remained just far enough out of reach that I could not understand what they were saying. They looked frequently to the west where dark boiling clouds had begun to gather.

  I kept glancing at Molly. She still stared, but seemed okay. There always seemed to be someone between us and I wondered if we were intentionally being kept apart. At that moment, however, it was sufficient to know that she was all right and I thought of her no more. I wanted to know what had happened to that village or town and, more important, if whatever had occurred was also happening all around us … to Ox Witz Ha and its surroundings.

  We halted our advance and I threw myself to the ground, exhausted, and Molly soon came and sat beside me. We did not speak and, after a short while, I stood up and examined my surroundings. The Halach Uinic and the nobles had undressed and were, apparently, waiting on the servants to bring them other clothes.

  The Halach Uinic came over to us and I saw Molly look away. “Ke’kchi,” he said. “Look towards Kinich Ahau.”

  I turned to face the strong glare of the afternoon sun. I was standing on the edge of a heavily jungled table-mountain that occupied about three or four square-miles, bordered to the north, east, and south by mountains. The table was generally flat, except for the small rolling hills we had been travelling through, and after a further descent of four or five hundred feet there was a vast plateau spreading westward. A road cut through the jungle from the base of the table-mountain on which we stood, going southwest until the canopy of the jungle hid it from view. As my eyes travelled further southwestward, I was filled with awe.

  “Well fok!” I exclaimed. I saw a city of temples rising from the jungle floor, reaching into the skies above it. Spreading around that central city were many building complexes, some stretching in a line about three miles wide to the north, others as far as I could see. The greatest concentration was to the south and west and the building complexes spread all the way to the high mountains of the Main Divide in the south. I watched in wonder and even though I sensed that I faced great dangers there, I felt a deep sense of pride and belonging. Before me lay a world my ancestors were a part of, a world I could be a part of. I still didn’t know how I had gotten there, but I was in a creation from which I was descended for I was Ke’kchi Maya. Miles and miles beyond the boundaries of the city, I saw the telltale smoke of burning kools, some of which were just below us.

  It was April … the time for burning. The trees had been felled in December, the brush and undergrowth cut before March after which they dried. In May, there would be ceremonies to placate the Earth Owner who controlled the clouds, the rains, and the wind. I remembered as a child, we attended processions to Maya shrines at the corners and center of the kool. There were prayers, flowers, candles, and pine bowers. The same man always led the processions in our kool and Taat had told me that he was the most knowledgeable in rituals in the village. There were others available, but everyone tried to get that same man. I supposed it was a mark of prestige to have him do the ceremony … or, perhaps, it was just that each
koolnáal wanted to ensure that his crops had been given the best opportunity to be bountiful. Afterwards, there was always a big feast with lots of good food. There would be stewed pikayri or givnat served with hot kuas, ixtama’als,262 fruits, and atole.263 As I grew older, however, I remember how the rituals started to happen less and less. Instead of having our festivities in the kool, we used to have to go all the way to San Antonio and go to the church. There was no festivity there. I clearly remember Taat sitting silently in the pew, his long black hair about his dark brown face, turning his straw hat by its brim, round and round. I am sure he wanted to be praying at the shrines in his kool instead of being in a church he knew nothing about and had no love for.

  After the festivities came the hard work. Taat was one of the shortest of our people that I had seen. I would watch him walk row after row with his pointed digging stick in his left hand and a hamadili shell, filled with corn seeds, held in place at his waist by a cloth belt. Dressed in an old tee-shirt, long pants made from brown cotton, a red sweat stained kerchief around his neck, the worn straw hat on his head, he would drop several seeds into the hole he had made and cover them with mud, using one of his lej-xajäbs. Row after row he would work in the hot sun. Sometimes, Na’ would follow him, planting a bean and squash seed at each covered hole. Other times, they sowed the squash on the fringes of the kool with crops like chiles, chayotes,264 and gourds that were planted in small areas set aside for that purpose.

  A new kool needed to be weeded at least once by mid-June or mid-July. Older kools needed to be weeded twice. By September, the corn would be ripe and Taat would once again go row by row through the kool, bending each stalk, allowing the corn to dry and harden without being ruined by the rains. A second crop of beans would be planted between the rows of the corn and harvesting was usually in December or January but could be earlier.

  As I watched the city and its surroundings, I wondered why I was thinking of my taat. He always provided for me and our family and he respected Na’ and Na’ him. Yet, although he taught me everything he knew about the kool and the jungle, to me he always seemed a bit far away. But I knew he would be there for me should I need him. He always was. What would have been considered as unusual was that I rarely thought of Taat as I grew older, rarely went to see him, and I didn’t know why. Perhaps, I was ashamed of my behavior which, at times, many times, was very degrading and I am sure, very disheartening to a conservative Maya taat. Yet, I was then thinking of him. I couldn’t lose the feeling that something was warning me that I would be needing him and he wouldn’t be there. Already, I had lost Bas. But maybe I was wrong and it was something else. I pushed all thoughts of home away.