Sky People

by Ardy Sixkiller Clarke

  In this chapter you will meet Chak Took, a Maya elder, who encountered a reptilian being when he was twelve years old.

  We drove down the dusty, unpaved road to the house of an elder who did odd jobs for Mateo’s sister. Cornfields towered above us on each side of the road. At the end of the field, six small, traditional houses appeared in a cluster. We stopped at the first one while Mateo inquired about Chak Took, the elder, who reportedly had an encounter when he was a boy.

  We found him eating an orange from his backyard tree. Dressed in tattered brown pants and a frayed, plaid shirt that had been buttoned unevenly, he reminded me of many of the elders I had met fleetingly during my travels. He took off his straw hat, bowed slightly to me, and welcomed us. When he smiled, he had only one front tooth. He proceeded to show me his orange tree and peeled a second orange and offered it to me. Mateo, who spoke to him in the local Mayan dialect, told him the purpose of our visit. The elder looked at me and spoke quietly to Mateo. When I saw the elder nod, I knew that he was willing to talk about his experience. After peeling another orange and offering it to Mateo, he led us to a bench under a large tree and called for his wife to bring food. After the tortillas and eggs with beans were served, he began his story.

  “The first time I saw a UFO was in 1957. I was twelve years old. It was a quiet evening. I was sleeping in the hammock in the backyard. It was a hot night. Darkness had fallen upon our village.” He filled a tortilla with the mixture and waited for Mateo to translate. When Mateo paused, he continued. “Suddenly I saw a bright ball of light the size of the moon drop from the night sky and come to rest in the jungle. I called to my father, who was already sleeping and told him what I had seen. He grabbed his machete. We ran into the cool night in the direction I saw the light come down.” He paused and pointed. “It came down in that direction. I can still see it as it descended into the trees.” Mateo, who had finished a tortilla, translated.

  “Did anyone else see it?” I asked.

  “No. But we did not go alone in search of the light. As my father and I made our way out of the village, two other men had seen the bright light and joined our hunt. I remember that the evening seemed normal enough, but as we walked deeper into the jungle, there was a strange smell. I had never smelled it before and it made me sick.” He stopped and pointed to his stomach. “Sick, very sick.” I watched as he peeled another orange, offering first to me and then to Mateo, who took it. “One of the men with us suggested it was a falling star from the sky. I had seen falling stars before, so I knew better. I knew it was not a star, but I had been taught to honor our elders, so I did not speak up. You see, when the stars fall, they have long fiery tails. This was not a falling star. It was round and as big as the moon.”

  “How long did it take you to get to the site where the ball of light had fallen?”

  “Maybe an hour. When we arrived at the sight we expected to see a hole in the earth or some remains of the fallen object, but there was nothing. Disappointed, we turned to leave, when we saw a glow coming from a place deeper in the jungle.” Mateo translated again and filled another tortilla.

  “We moved toward the glow and that’s when we saw peering above us a pair of red, burning eyes glowing in the trees. I could have sworn I heard a hissing sound. It scared me, but the others did not hear it.”

  “Could it have been an animal?”

  “No. We were familiar with the eyes of animals. We knew the difference. One of the village men had a lantern. He held it high, aiming it in the direction of the red eyes. The creature was frightening. His face resembled a lizard. His skin was green, maybe brown. He blended into the jungle very well. If the sun was shining, it would have been difficult to see him. When the light hit him, he jumped from the tree.” He paused and sipped a bottle of water while Mateo once again translated.

  “Can he describe what ‘rough skin’ means?” I asked. As Mateo translated, I drank from my water bottle and watched the interchange between the two.

  “He says that the creature had scales like a fish.”

  “How big was the creature?”

  “He says that it was twice his size and that it was very strong. That it jumped from a tree limb that was four or five times as high as him. He felt the earth bounce when he landed,” Mateo translated.

  “The tree limb was about that high,” Chak said as he pointed to a limb on the tree in the yard. I estimated that the tree limb would have been more like thirty feet high and wondered how a ten-foot creature could jump from a tree that high without hurting himself.

  “What happened after he jumped from the tree?” I asked.

  “He disappeared into the dense foliage in the direction of the glow.”

  “It was at that point that we all became very dizzy and sick. The smell I had encountered earlier overwhelmed us. We had no interest in following the creature we had discovered, nor did we have any inclination to search out the glow. We returned home and the next morning we didn’t even talk about the incident. In fact, it was like it never happened.”

  “Do you mean you had no memory of it?”

  “We remembered. We didn’t talk about it. We were afraid if we talked about it, he might reappear. We considered ourselves very lucky. He could have killed us and eaten us. By mid-morning we were all sick. The sickness lasted for weeks. We developed high fevers and rashes. We were too weak to walk. The village shaman made different medicines. Eventually, we recovered.”

  “Did you ever talk about it among yourselves?” I asked.

  “Never,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Was that your last encounter with a UFO?” I asked.

  “I have seen lights many times in the jungle during my seventy-five years, but I have never investigated them. They are a common occurrence here, but I have no interest in following them. One encounter with the red-eyed demon was enough.”

  After the interview, Chak Took guided me around his backyard. He pointed out various fruit trees on his property and medicinal herbs growing in coffee cans. Each had a purpose. He led us to the back of his property where four half-grown hogs lounged in a cinderblock cage. When he approached, the hogs stood on their hind legs, and he affectionately patted their heads. He introduced each one by name. Mateo told me later that he had named them after Guatemalan politicians.

  It was very hard to leave Chak Took. He followed us to the van and Mateo unloaded two cases of water and a case of Coca-Cola. When he shook my hand, I slipped the equivalent of $50 American dollars into his hand. He smiled and spoke to Mateo, who later told me that the elder told him that the money would pay for his grandson’s school for the year.

  I often think of Chak Took. I had never met anyone who had encountered a reptilian creature, although I had on occasion met individuals who had encountered humanoid figures with red eyes or scaly skin. But Chak Took stood out above all the others. He had welcomed me, a stranger into his home, and told a story that he rarely told. He told Mateo that he had only told the story to two people: Mateo’s sister and me. For that, I was both grateful and honored.

  Chapter 19

  The Shining People of the Red Hand

  Hand paintings are found in rock art and on building sites around the world. But scientists have always asked: What was their meaning? Were they signature of the artist? Was it the shaman acknowledging the spirit world? Even Stephens and Catherwood recorded the mystery of the red hand in their travels. Given that the images existed among the ancient Maya and are used today by contemporary builders as a symbol of their contribution to a structure, the “red hand” of ancient Maya may have been misinterpreted by outsiders.

  In this chapter, you will meet a Maya elder who explains the meaning of the red hand print as he learned from his elders.

  We spent two nights at Mateo’s sister’s house. There was a celebration in the village honoring one of the Catholic saints, and Mateo thought I might enjoy participating. His sister insisted that I stay as her guest. She was an English teacher at the local school
and enjoyed the opportunity to speak English with an English speaker. After a day of celebration, dancing, and eating too much food, Mateo and I set out for our return trip to Guatemala City the next day. On the way, he suggested that we take a round-about tour of some small Maya sites tucked away in the jungle. I agreed wholeheartedly.

  Mateo and I met Yoc, a Maya elder, who looked younger than the eighty years he claimed to be, at a small site in the Guatemalan jungle. The site was not on a tourist map (or on any map, for that matter), but rather was a place in the jungle with tree-covered mounds that hid a city, where we stopped to rest and eat a packed lunch provided by Maria, Mateo’s sister. Yoc greeted us shortly after we pulled off the highway. He was the self-appointed protector of the small, no-name Maya site. Twenty years ago, according to him, the government had grandiose plans for restoring the site. They built a caretaker’s hut and then, without explanation, they abandoned their plans. Yoc took it upon himself to move into the small caretaker hut when it became obvious the government had lost interest in the site. He assumed the role of caretaker. No one ever questioned his authority. In return for his illegal squatting, he policed the site and kept looters away. In his younger days, Yoc traveled to the USA and worked in California and Washington, which accounted for his good command of the English language. He loved the States, as he called them, but living in fear took its toll. After he saved enough money to build a house for his mother and his siblings, he moved back to Guatemala and resumed the life of a farmer. Although he wasn’t paid for keeping the ancient site safe, he had a house and a garden spot and an occasional tip from a wayward tourist. He took me inside his hut and pointed to a shelf near his hammock. “My library,” he said. “American tourists give me their unwanted books. So I practice English by reading.” I looked over the shelf, which contained everything from Stephen King to Danielle Steele and a large English-Spanish dictionary.

  “Do you read these books?” I asked.

  “Every night,” he said.

  As Mateo and I shared our lunch with him, he kept us entertained with stories of giants, little people, and the hairy ones. As we prepared to leave, we left him a case of water and fruit we had bought at a roadside stand. I added several paperback books to his library, two Tony Hillerman novels about Navajo policemen, Craig Johnson’s latest novel about a Wyoming sheriff, and a collection of Agatha Christie’s novels about the French Inspector Poirot. In return, he insisted that we allow him to show us around site. While I followed along behind him, choosing my steps carefully, I saw the remains of a small temple; three sides were standing. The three of us sat down on a wooden bench in front of the stone edifice. Unlike many of the structures at the site that were nothing more than mounds of rubble, this was a standing structure with a smooth arch over the doorway. There were painted red hands decorating the facade. “I built this bench. I like to come here in the early mornings and sit. This was the altar of the Shining Ones,” he said.

  “Who are the Shining Ones?”

  “They are the Space People, the Sky Gods, the Star People, the extraterrestrials or aliens—whatever you like to call them,” he said. “They are the ones who left their handprints.”

  “What do you know about the Star People?” I asked.

  “There are many different Star People. They come from many different places. Only one group is connected to the Maya. Some of the Star People are from this solar system, but not all. The Shining People tell me there are sixty-seven solar systems in a confederation and that thousands of spacecraft visit Earth on any given day. At this moment, there are hundreds of space ships circling the Earth. Our governments do not have the technology to see them. They tell me that their people live all over the Earth watching and helping man.”

  “So are you telling me that you have been in contact with the Star People?” I asked.

  “I am in contact with them month by month.”

  “Does that mean every month?”

  “No. It means some months.”

  “Tell me about the Star People who live among us.”

  “They have specific tasks. They do not live here permanently. They help scientists to improve the life of people. They help leaders who work for peace. They perform many tasks as I understand. They never reveal themselves to their human friends. They are gone now. They come in sixteen-year cycles. Soon they will come again. They left in 2000; they will return in 2016. They will stay for sixteen years and then leave for sixteen years.”

  “Do you know why there is a sixteen-year cycle?”

  “I understand that it takes them sixteen years to travel to Earth. When they return another group leaves. Thus, they are here sixteen years and then sixteen years later another group arrives.”

  “What do they look like?” I asked.

  “Like you and me. They can look like anyone they like. On this planet they look human. On another they look like the dominant species.”

  “Why do you call them the Shining People?” I asked.

  “In their true state, they are balls of light. It is only when they assume human form that you see them. Otherwise you are blinded by them. Many people never know they have met them. They see balls of light, not realizing that they are actually living forms.”

  “What can you tell me about the red hands?”

  “I am sure you have seen them other places,” he said. I nodded.

  “There are stories about the Brothers of the Red Hand. They were a group of sky men who traveled throughout universe collecting knowledge. They held the secrets of the origins of all peoples of Earth as well as populated planets through the universe.”

  “So the Brothers of the Red Hand left their imprints on the places they passed?” I asked.

  “Sí. The Brothers were born of the Shining People. They have been on Earth since the beginning of time. Everywhere archaeologists go, they find the red handprint. Scientists say the red hand is the signature of the builders, but it is not true. For those who know, the red hand stands for knowledge.”

  “What else have you learned from the Shining People?”

  “That their lifespan is 800 years. They told me that we are the only warring planet in this solar system. There are other planets that war, but they are not in this solar system. They say they have given our scientists the knowledge to cure all diseases, but they have not used it. They say there are planets where the inhabitants still live in the Dark Ages and do not even know about the wheel. They say there are planets where the inhabitants never age. They talk of one planet that is so far advanced to others that the beings there can assume almost any form they choose simply by using their mind. They say there are planets with cities made of crystals and shine like the moon at night because the planets have no other night source of light.” He paused for a moment. “I would like to see that planet.”

  “Can you describe the Shining People’s spacecraft?” I asked.

  “It looks like a big hat. It is the best description. It looks like metal, but it is not, although it resembles silver to the human eye. It makes no sound, but it can fly like a lightening strike.”

  “How old were you when you first met the Shining People?”

  “My grandmother told me stories of the Star People when I was a little boy. One night I saw a beam of light come down from the sky. I followed the beam of light. A ball of light appeared and a man walked out of it. He shook my hand and called me by name. I was about twelve at the time. I have been seeing them since that day. Even in the States.”

  We sat with Yoc most of the afternoon, but his story of the red hands and the Shining People never varied. I have often thought of this kind, gentle elder who spoke with such calmness and clarity as he talked about the Brotherhood of the Red Hand and the Shining People who helped our scientists and leaders. Hopefully, when they return in 2016, we will witness their influence.

  Chapter 20

  They Told Me I Would Not Remember

  Monsignor Corrado Balducci, a retired Roman Catholic priest living in Rome,
has made some startling statements about UFOs and alien abductions on Italian television in recent years. While maintaining that he is not speaking on behalf of the Vatican or the Pope, he has said that UFOs and alien abduction are definitely interesting and worthy of investigation. During an interview, which was published in Whitley Strieber’s Confirmation, he noted:

  It is reasonable to believe and to affirm that extraterrestrials exist. Their existence can no longer be denied, for there is too much evidence for the existence of extra-terrestrials and flying saucers as documented by UFO research. To assert categorically that they are illusions and hallucination, or that eyewitness testimony accounts are not credible, is wrong…. This would have serious consequences for religion itself, since religion is founded on an historical incident, on the birth of Jesus Christ….

  In this chapter, you will meet a Roman Catholic priest who had a personal encounter with a UFO and a Star Man. The incident made him a firm believer in the existence of extraterrestrial life.

  Mateo greeted me Sunday morning with a big smile on his face. “Hurry, Doctora. We must eat and go to Mass. I have a special surprise for you.” Because I had become accustomed to Mateo’s surprises, I did as I was told and opted for scrambled eggs and toast so that I would not be late for whatever event Mateo had in mind for me. After Mass, Mateo asked me to remain seated until the other parishioners had left the church. We were still seated when Father Felipe closed the doors. I watched the priest walk toward us and settle in the pew in front of us.

  “Father, this is the Doctora I spoke about—the professor who is collecting stories about UFOs and Sky People.” Father Felipe nodded and offered his hand to me. “Father Felipe and I were boys together,” Mateo continued. “We grew up in the same village and went to the same schools. Obviously our lives took different paths, but it is reassuring to know I have a direct link to heaven,” Mateo chuckled. “Father Felipe, my oldest and dearest friend, has a story to tell you about UFOs. I contacted him and told him about you. I think you will want to hear his story.” The priest smiled at Mateo and nodded. He was dressed in a long black robe. A large silver cross embossed with jade stones hung around his neck. His white hair was striking against his bronze skin. Although he had Spanish blood, it was obvious that he was a Mestizo.