Back in my bank teller days, Columbus day was one of those holidays I always took as a bonus, a day off when almost everyone else had to work, never really putting much thought into the break. Of course I knew that the Columbus story has many versions, but growing up the midst of the most popular version I never had a reason to think deeply about the significance of the "discovery" of the "new" world. This week I stood among temples thousands of years older than the arrival of the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria while hundreds of proud Maya from across Central America prayed and left offerings. This put things into perspective. But before reaching that grassy plaza at Tikal, there was a journey, and the theme of that journey was traditional.
My village is only about 20 miles from the Guatemala border, but traveling there usually means driving 150 miles north to the nearest road crossing or taking a 2 hour boat ride across the Bay of Honduras. But out group chose to take the most direct route, beginning our travels in the traditional way, on foot. Two hours by bus from Blue Creek brought us to Jalacte where we raced the approaching rain. Making our way down a muddy slope, wading through a river, and across a cow pasture, we found ourselves in Guatemala after a 20 minute walk.* Suddenly we were surrounded by Spanish language, electricity, and population, all lacking just 25 minutes before. A chartered van arrived shortly, getting us all packed in just as the torrential rain, which would fall almost continually throughout our entire trip, began to fall. Arriving in Poptun as darkness approached we made our way to Casa de la Esperanza, the school that would be hosting our group and several hundred other Maya travelers. We hardly had time to put our bags down on our bunk beds before the ceremonies began. After everyone had filled up on a traditional meal of beans and poch** the ceremonies began.
The school boarded about 400 students and focused it’s education on traditional Maya values and worldview, much like Tumul K’in, the school in Blue Creek that I was traveling with. Parents of many of these students had come to the festivities, most bringing offerings of food, fire wood, and copal*** that is an important part of the offering ceremony. As each person made their gift offering, they danced around the circle where the offerings were placed according to the 4 elements (represented by black, yellow, white, and red). Spiritual leaders, distinguished by bright head-wraps, organized the offerings and blessed them for the larger ceremony that would take place the next day at Tikal. The Miramba music kept the crowd going for the entire night, with people occasionally resting briefly before resuming the dance. At 2am Caldo (soup) and tortillas were served, at at 3am the coffee started going.
3:40am: After a few brief hours of rest, punctuated by the dancing and speeches that kept going all night, I woke and walked across the road to take an ice-cold bucket bath (no showers). I filled my water-bottle with sugary coffee drink and hopped in the van. We were on on the road by 4am. Three hours later the caravan of mini-buses approached the gates of Tikal, stopping only to use the bathroom, buy rain poncho’s, and get some breakfast. An hour of speeches at the visitors center allowed for stragglers to reach before the procession made the 20 minute walk to the Central Plaza. Here the large stone slabs stood ready for the hundreds of pounds of offerings that the procession brought, just as they had been at the height of the Maya Empire a thousand years ago. Candles, copal, alcohol, and any other gifts burned for hours as people came and left the never-ending circle of energy that surrounded the leaping flames. A conch shell blew and the whole crowd lowered to their knees and prayed to each of the 4 elements, facing East, North, West, and South for each element. I was told that the conch shell is used to invite the spirits of the ancestors that may be present to come forward during the prays. Standing to one side, I knew I was a mere observer to this event, but I could feel the love and spiritual connection that the people felt for this place and their heritage. It’s hard to describe what it’s like to see a piece of history tied so closely with the present.
We spent that night, exhausted, at the school. The return journey was much the same as when we came, though 3 days of heavy rains had made the already muddy path into Belize a ridiculous affair. The stream we waded across was now a flooded torrent and we had to chose between getting shuttled on a mule or pulled in a small boat. I chose the mule, holding my breath as the water came up to my knees while I held tightly to the animal as it struggled to get it’s footing in the flooded river. By 8pm I was home. I basked in the clean water that pounded on me from my shower, my first real bath in 3 days, and ate a late dinner of cereal and soy milk. I sank into bed, still in awe of my good fortune at being included in such an amazing piece of tradition.
PS – I forgot to mention the hospitality. Even though I am clearly not Maya and do not speak K’etchi at all or Spanish very well, I was made to feel very welcome at these emotional events by the people at the school and at Tikal. Sure, I got a few odd stares, but I got a lot more smiles, plenty of laughs, and handshakes that communicated the welcome atmosphere.
*This is perfectly legal as long as you report to the Police in Belize when you leave, and then to the Police in the nearest town upon arriving in Guatemala.
**Poch is a big hunk of ground corn cooked in a banana leaf.
*** Copal is tree sap that is burned as incense in offering ceremonies.
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