Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  “We will all go,” demanded Xicohtencatl. “It is not for us to die by fluttering stings to our eyes, legs, arms, and into our noses and mouths. You are now a Warrior of Ox Witz Ha, Fok. Do as you are commanded.”

  One of the Warriors who had formed a protective circle around us wore a kohaw.347 “I am Kish,348 Kaloonte’ to Ajawinel K’an II. We will take you to the Nim-q’ij Temple then return,” he informed us. “Now, let’s go.” They tightened their circle around us and we were soon being pushed into a stumbling run towards the Caana. On arrival, one of them took my maquahuitl then they were gone without a word. I looked at Molly. She sat angrily on a low step, the servants holding shields above her and themselves, the shields pierced by arrows in several places. Her eyes reflected the horror of our sweaty bloodied clothes and our bodies covered with bruises and lacerations.

  “You have become one of them,” she uttered.

  “I have always been one of them,” I responded.

  The Nim-q’ij Guards urged us on. We ran across the courtyard between the Tijoxel Ja and the Caana. The dead lay where they had fallen, arrows buried in their bodies. Those that had been hit by flaming arrows still offered up the smell of burning flesh. The injured looked at us but said nothing. They would have to wait until the battle was over or until someone came to assist them … or send them on their way to the Underworld. We cut through our lines that were marching north as was the strategy to begin encircling the enemy from that flank. We soon passed the Tijoxel Ja and were on the causeway to the northeast where there were many people. The dead, the dying, and those that were alive took no notice of us as we rushed. Some were still walking away from the city while others were sitting in groups at the side of the causeway, talking or praying quietly. Many had a pot of incense in their midst, adding to the mélange of odors that hung over Ox Witz Ha.

  I kept looking back at Ox Witz Ha, a city in smoke and flames. I felt, for the second time in my life, a deep nauseous sense of loss and sorrow. I squeezed Molly’s hand until she pulled it away.

  We were running, almost continuously. It was already late in the evening when we left the city and I knew that it would take us at least two or three hours to reach the table-mountain. After an hour out of Ox Witz Ha, Xicohtencatl stopped us, suddenly. Crossing the road in the distance was a mountain lion with an owl on its back. With trained speed, arrows left the bows of the two Nim-q’ij Guards, but as the arrows fell upon their mark, the mountain lion with the owl on its back was no longer there. We continued running.

  It was not until dark that we started climbing the first slope that took us on to the jungled mesa. There was no moon as yet and the stars and planets were bright in the dark night sky, as was Lahun Chan who hung over Ox Witz Ha. From the table-mountain, as we looked to the southwest, the sky was colored with a dying red and orange glow for Ox Witz Ha still burned.

  Xicohtencatl and Ehecatl insisted that we go no further. They also told us they would stand guard while we slept, that we needed a good night’s rest before we continued on our way, alone. In the morning, they would give directions on how to return to where they had found us. From there, we would really be on our own. I nodded in sad agreement as it was the only thing to do.

  The servants relieved us of what we carried and soon we men were relaxing in just loincloth and headband, trying not to think of what was happening to our west, Molly wearing a light huipil. Ehecatl placed each of our weapons beside us, reminding us that, as we journeyed, we were to have them with us at all times. The servants then placed branches of cot-acam around the camp and threw dried leaves into a fire they had built. I noted that there was also the heavy smell of asafoetida.

  The servants next brought bowls for us to wash our hands then they laid out dinner. We began with wasp larvae in honey. It was delicious as the aversion I previously had to the live larvae moving about in my mouth had disappeared. To my surprise, even Molly was enjoying it. I supposed she was just very happy that we were on our way home … her home.

  Next was smoked mushrooms and iguana followed by wild fig. To drink, we had water or pozolli. I was, once again, amazed at all that the servants had brought, but I supposed they were used to Nim-q’ij Picnics. That night, however, there was a difference for we were not on a picnic, but on a table-mountain from where I watched the burning city of Ox Witz Ha.

  As soon as dinner was over, Molly curled up on a mat and quickly fell asleep. Choj clapped his hands and one of the servants came over. “Iztāc-octli,” ordered Choj. “Tonight, even though our city burns, we celebrate our victory at the halaw,” to which Bo answered with a loud yell.

  “There goes Xicohtencatl and Ehecatl’s advice,” I laughed.

  “But first we bathe to remove the blood and sweat of war and to clean our battle wounds, then we honor the gods with our blood.” Choj nodded to a servant who left, but quickly returned with a bowl, a piece of obsidian, and three incense burners already lit. He unrolled a small mat and placed the vessels on it. I frowned.

  “You look puzzled, Fok,” Bo pointed out. He laughed loudly. “Is this not done in Pusilhá?” They all laughed shaking their heads. Bo looked at me. “Should we meet again, Fok, you will tell us where you are really from.”

  “Let’s get this done,” urged Choj. “I want to get drunk tonight on iztāc-octli.” He and Bo stood up and two other servants brought bowls of water and scented oils and white cloths embroidered with the emblem of the jaguar. The servants removed Choj’s and Bo’s loincloths and head bands and started to bathe them. Another servant was beside me and so I stood up and had my loincloth and head band removed. I was not yet used to having a servant bathe me, but what was previously unusual now seemed to be the norm in my life. I was cleaned and scented, totally unaware of what was going to happen next. After the ritual bath, I stood there on the table-mountain and, like Bo and Choj, was dressed only with a clean white headband having the jaguar emblem and a jade amulet the servants had given each of us. Of course, I still wore my bloodied Green Scapular.

  “Do you know what we’re going to do, Fok?” asked Bo, not looking at me.

  I hesitated, but then answered, “No.”

  “I thought so,” smiled Choj. “You are definitely not from Pusilhá.”

  “No, my friends,” I admitted.

  “It is good to hear you say the truth, Fok.” Bo stared at me, momentarily, then began to explain. “We will do the Ch’ahb349 Ritual to honor and give thanks to the gods for our victory at Pitz. Choj’s amulet and incense burner carries the glyph of Chaahk, the Rain God. My amulet and incense burner carry the glyph of Cit Bolon Tum, God of Medicine. The third amulet and incense burner carry no glyph. That is yours, Fok. The piece of obsidian is a sharply pointed blood-letter called the tzitz,350 and in the bowl are pieces of parchment. Normally, each noble would have his own bowl, but this k’iin we use only one bowl for we are one, Achalals. Now, let’s squat around the incense burners. As a tribute to you, Fok, you will go first.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Choj laughed and put his hand on my shoulder. “You will take the tzitz, pierce your foreskin, and collect the blood in the bowl. Then it will be my turn.” The servant placed the bowl in front of me and handed me the blood-letter. My hand shook visibly. I had to take control of my- self. I was a soldier, a Maya Warrior, a man, not a masturbating piece of shit. Those men would give their lives for me, had already offered their lives at the ballgame. I had to participate.

  After many deep draws of k’uutz, I held Tóolok, pulled the foreskin and, hesitantly, pierced it. There was pain, but I was Ke’kchi. I was a soldier. I was a Maya Warrior and, soon, the pain was lost. Blood flowed and I caught it in the bowl. Xicohtencatl and Ehecatl began chanting and I felt as if I were in a mysterious and wonderful world. It was as if the violence was no more. When my blood stopped flowing, the servant placed the bowl in front of Choj. He pulled his foreskin, without hesitation, and pierced it. Bo then did the same. The servant took the bowl and with cinders
from the incense burners, set the bloodied strips of parchment alight. As the flames went out, the chanting stopped, and we stood up.

  “By burning, we dispatch the blood offerings to the gods. As I told you, because we have used only one bowl, we are not only friends, but Achalals,” stressed Bo, looking at me. Xicohtencatl and Ehecatl gave loud whoops while Bo and Choj each hugged me and called me Achalal. Their actions not only confirmed my desire not to leave, they entrenched it, but I knew I had to go.

  The servants brought mugs of iztāc-octli while we were still standing and Choj toasted, “To the victors.” We emptied the mugs.

  The servants refilled them and Bo toasted, “To our competitors, Tlacelel, Uetzcayotl, and Tepiltzin, may they have survived the battle.” We emptied the mugs.

  The mugs were refilled again and I toasted, “To Achalals and friends.” We emptied the mugs.

  During our little ceremony, we did not look towards Ox Witz Ha. That was our night and the mugs were refilled again and again.

  Let’s sit,” I suggested after several bottoms-up, looking around for my loincloth which I didn’t see. “Where’s my loincloth?”

  “The servants removed them,” informed Choj. “It’s tradition that after the Ch’ahb one does not wear any until Kinich Ahau rises in the morning.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I smirked, already feeling the effects of the iztāc-octli.

  “The air will heal the wound quickly,” added Choj, lifting his mug. “Tonight, we drink. Tonight, we will put Acan351 to shame.”

  “Acan?”

  Choj shook his head. “As I said, let’s drink.”

  We sat and I shouted, raising my mug, “To the Achalals, Bo, Choj, and Fok,” then, I started to cry.

  Choj stared at me, knowingly. “You have a lot of fluid in your body, that’s why you cry. Get rid of some of it. Take a piss.” I started laughing and they quickly joined in as we stood pissing on the table-mountain.

  “You never told me your real names.”

  “Nor have you told us yours,” countered Choj.

  I smiled as we sat again on the mats. “I am Ste … Eutimio Chiac. I am from the village of Santa Cruz … Kiche,352 in a region … a kingdom far away.”

  “My name is Chaahk,” responded Choj. I am named after the Rain God. Our grandfather, Ajawinel Yajaw Te’ K’inich II, believed that all his grandchildren should be named after a god. The Lady Batz’ Ek’ told me that as a child, whenever they called me Chaahk, I couldn’t say it and, instead, said Choj, so that’s why I am called Choj. I prefer it anyway. I am no god.” He laughed. “I think the Halach Uinic prefers it too. He thinks that the time of the gods will soon be over.” I support him so I do not allow his new thoughts to trouble me. Choj drained his mug and it was immediately refilled.

  “My name is Cit Bolon Tum. I am named after a God of Medicine. I was called Bolon, but I didn’t like it so I insisted on being called just Bo.”

  “That’s not what I was told,” interjected Choj. Bo threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “As a child, whenever he cried, he would say bo … bo … bo. That’s why he’s called Bo.” Choj leaned back his head and yelled, bo … bo … bo. Bo grinned, held up his mug and drained it.

  “Whatever the reason, I love my short name Bo. I hate those new long names. Xicohtencatl,” he shouted. “Don’t you wish your name was shorter?”

  “I do, My Alaxel. I would like to be called just Xico.”

  “Then Xico it is. And stop that ‘My Alaxel’ fok. I am getting drunk and soon won’t be able to shoot a ch’ab straight. You, Xico, I know would protect me with your life, not as a Nim-q’ij Guard, but more like a friend, an achalal.” Bo held up his mug. “Tonight, it is Bo and Xico. No ‘My Alaxel’ fok.”

  “As you wish, Bo,” answered Xicohtencatl.

  “Why do you have long names if you don’t like them,” I grumbled, half drunk.

  “As Ox Witz Ha began establishing itself as a powerful city, my grandfather increased our trade routes, especially to the North and Northwest Kingdoms. It became popular to give foreign names to children and so many of our people now have long names. My Al-ch’utin-nan and Ajawinel frowns on this practice and has proclaimed that we should resume using our own traditional names. Our children will have our regional names.” Bo lifted his mug and Choj whooped.

  “I was also given a foreign name by a priest. He insisted I was to be called Stephen. I don’t think I will ever use that name again.” We drained our mugs and they were immediately refilled. “I have a question Choj … or Bo. In fact, I have two questions.”

  “Go ahead,” nodded Choj. Bo simply grinned.

  “During the battle, Maxam’s slaves were bringing in gourds. Xicohtencatl … sorry … Xico immediately ordered us to leave.” Choj gesticulated to Xico.

  “Those gourds were filled with wonons353 and aqajs. Once the gourds are hurled and are broken, the vermin rise like great clouds of smoke and attack the Warriors by stinging the pupil of their eyes. They then fasten themselves to their noses, their mouths, their legs, and their arms, always stinging until the Warrior is dead, or so distracted in battle that he is easily killed. The smell and noise of battle turn the vermin into deadly weapons.”

  Bumblebees and wasps. “But don’t the aqajs and wonons attack their own Warriors?” I questioned.

  “It occurs. It is war and casualties are acceptable. If the gourds are flung far enough into the enemies Warriors, it is they who are mainly targeted by the vermin. Also, the wonons and aqajs only inflict their sting once.”

  “So, Xico, we would have died from bee stings. That’s why you had to get us out of there.”

  “Yes. Also, poets would not sing your praises if your death in battle is by aqaj stings.” I stared at Xico then started laughing. He looked perplexed at my response, but then began to laugh also. “You are strange, Fok.”

  “I do have another question. Why were Maxam slaves breaking and carrying away pieces of the monument that looked like a stairway?”

  “Are there no wars where you come from, Fok?” asked Bo. I smiled at him. He shrugged his shoulders. “That monument is a very important monument as it records the life of Ajawinel K’an II. Maxam was taking it apart so that they could set it up in their own kingdom, boasting a reward of victory and a humiliating tribute to Ajawinel K’an II. It would confirm that K’uxaj Warriors were able to enter Ox Witz Ha and we could not stop them. It would be hailed as a tribute to our defeat by K’uxaj and his Warriors and boasted to the entire U Wach Ulew.”

  “U Wach Ulew?’

  “I will ignore that question since you have had so much iztāc-octli and k’uutz, Ke’kchi,” admonished Bo.

  “But we may not have been defeated,” I continued.

  “When all else is lost, only the monuments will speak in the future times, Achalal. Should the monument be taken, to correct that in history, K’an II would have to attack Maxam and bring back his monument, piece by piece.” Bo looked to the west and at the red and orange glow hovering over Ox Witz Ha. “I don’t know if Ox Witz Ha will be able to do that.” We all became silent.

  “I do have another question.”

  “That makes three,” jeered Choj.

  “How did the spectators at the ballgame and the Warriors during the battle know my name. At times, they were shouting Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi! Fok! Fok! Fok! Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi!

  “Well,” replied Bo, “I suppose Choj and I, and our friends at the Tijoxel Ja had something to do with that. You do realize you’re quite a hero.”

  “Hero? I don’t know about that. I am very satisfied with Achalal.” They regarded me and I saw deep friendship in their eyes, the one that history has shown us only occurs within the camaraderie of men.

  Choj, Bo, and I continued drinking iztāc-octli, smoking k’uutz, and talking late into the night. We got very drunk, telling each other stories about our male prowess, laughing and joking, hitting each other. Our guards were always with us, joining into the stor
ies, but always alert for any sign of danger. I had never felt so much a part of anything before. I had never felt like that except when I was with Bas. I had lost Bas and I was about to lose a world I was beginning to love. Fok! At some point, I fell asleep. I didn’t know fokin when.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  SECOND FLIGHT.

  Tuesday and Wednesday, April 11 and 12, 1972

  I was awakened at sunrise and I did have a heavy headache. I looked at my body and was shocked to see bruises all over.

  “From the ballgame and the battle,” explained Bo, grinning. “Come. It is time for the servants to put on our loincloths and get us dressed.”

  “Let me piss and shit first,” I mumbled, still half-asleep, my head spinning. I examined Tóolok while pissing. Tóolok was fino,354 a bit hungry, but that was okay. He’d just have to wait.

  Molly was already up and, after Bo, Choj and I were dressed, we all had a quiet breakfast of fruit and pozolli. The servants then repacked the cuxtals making sure that we had all that was necessary and that they were not too heavy. We were able to sling the cuxtals across our shoulders, so we had the use of our hands, one for our weapon and the other free.

  It was time to go. There were no flames over Ox Witz Ha, only a cloud of light smoke obscured the city. I hugged Bo. I hugged Choj. I was not only losing a second and third friend, I was losing brothers. At least, they were not dead. Ehecatl and Xicohtencatl explained to us the direction we needed to take to find the doaris and how to continue upriver to the tunnel. They reminded us to always keep our weapons with us and gave both Molly and myself an extra pair of obsidian knives. It was soon that time; we had to leave.

  We hugged our Nim-q’ij Guards, Xicohtencatl and Ehecatl, for they had become our friends. They raised their spears, shaking them and whooping loudly, before starting down the incline to the plateau below. Bo and Choj looked at us and smiled then roared and roared and roared, hitting their chests. Then, they were gone.