Luis tuc-tuc’d me to school right on time but I never reached my Arco of Learning because of an unexpected field trip with Silvia and a few others.
The first stop, 1.5 hours and 1500 feet of elevation gain later, was Iximché, an archaeological site inhabited by the Maya from 1500 BC until they were driven out by conquistadores 3000 years later. While a fraction of the scale and magnificence of Tikal, these ruins were much more rewarding for me. There are four ceremonial plazas with temples and a ball court. Few visitors and little restoration make them magical.
Last month, against the locals’ wishes, the Guatemalan government invited Bush to tour the place. After he left, the Maya performed extensive purification rituals to purge the evil spirits he left behind.
At the far end of the site, contemporary Maya still hold regular, private ceremonies. Two were underway in the clearing when I arrived. Next to a wooded mound inlaid with ancient stone steps was a fire ring. A Maya man fed the flames while three woman chanted in their indigenous language and waved smoking herbs. A woman, a baby, an 8-year-old boy and a ragged puppy watched from ten feet away. After a bit, when the boy tried to stand up, I saw he was seriously ill. He tried to walk but couldn’t move even a few inches, though his mother supported him. The attempt made his face go rigid in agony but he never made a sound.
Guatemala is filled with painful sights. Each day, too many to count. This one has hit the hardest so far.
Some people light white candles to protect children.
We went to nearby Tecpí¡n and looked at the beautiful colonial iglesia of St. Francis de Asis, destroyed by a terremoto but since restored. Stopped by the town’s mercado and attempted to bargain (with little success) for another armful of stuff for friends. Good lunch in a restaurant somewhere and then to visit everybody’s favorite saint (well, everybody except for the local Catholics), Maximón. He takes care of women of the night and accepts gifts of rum and cigars.
The air at his shrine is thick with booze vapors and smoke. Multicolored candles represent specific requests about money, health, love, success, happiness, children, protection… one of about fifteen choices. I picked two and made my offerings to el santo.
Hang on: one of my schoolmates just gave me pictures she took of me. I’ll show you. Oh, yuck — what a face. Here: let me behead myself first. Oh, and I’ll change the color of my candle so you’ll never know what I wished for. Here ya go:
Outside, the courtyard was quiet after a just-completed ceremony.
It’s an understatement to say that the Catholic church across the street isn’t a big fan of Maximón. You won’t find any colored candles in there, anyway — or rum. Practicing Guatemalan Catholics can’t have shotgun marriages, I learned. They have to wait three months, during which time their marriage application is posted in all Catholic churches in their province.
Finally, we took a quick walk through San Andrés Itzapa, Maximón’s home. For one quetzal I bought three green-corn tortillas like the one you see there. A minute ago I found two of them in my coat pocket.
Here’s a store I pass every day on the way home from school.
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Your journal gets better the longer you stay away! I am sitting here at midnight swatting flies against my computer screen. Some varmint must have died up in the rafters above me. Its always something. Visited with elephant seals yesterday in the rain. Decided they are result of Moose who mated with banana slug untold eons ago. That seems so far from where you are. It is! Be well. More rain tomorrow. And, I hope, less flies. MB
I love the image of a banana slug / moose (Bullwinkle) cross. Did you draw them?