Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  “I miss my tambran Tang” said Choco. “And my noodles, and rice and corned beef. Some Jungle Chow Mein would do good right now.”

  “I miss my harp and marimba,” added Teul, sighing loudly.

  Rhys looked at Choco. “Some people just don’t change. You know how many men from our platoon would like these special rations?”

  “They could have it. Name me one madafoka who likes marmite. I bet you can’t.”

  “Well? Marmite? Perhaps I can’t.” Rhys chuckled loudly.

  Rhys’s simple comment about the villagers had immediately taken me to Molly and the tragedy of Easter Sunday. I shook it off by listening to the men banter and by concentrating on the beauty around me. As I gazed at the green around me, I was pulled back to Expedition Bold and a small creek named Juan Branch. After travelling about eight miles, on the first day of that expedition, we had come to the creek. March was the month with the least rainfall in the area; yet, the creek had a full steady stream of clear and clean water. Juan Branch flowed at the bottom of a shallow gorge formed by the hill we had marched across and the spur of a taller mountain to the north. We had refilled our canteens with the pure and sweet water, at times having trouble avoiding the small fishes that abounded. We rested a short while in the shadowed moist and cool environment of Juan Branch. It was only the dimness of the deep shade that withheld some of the beauty of the small rivulet. Butterflies were plentiful, blues, yellows, whites, blacks, browns, hundreds of the orange and black Monarchs, all flitting among the many colorful bromeliads that grew from the cracks and crevices of the river rocks, and branches and trunks of the trees. An occasional epiphyte was so colorful that one could have mistaken it for a male bird ritually displaying its colors to a potential mate.

  “This is nice, but maybe we should be getting along,” said Robertson who had come over towards me, taking me out of my reverie. “It’s 1005 hours.”

  “Fok!” I cussed, admonishing myself. I looked up at Robertson, pushing Juan Branch away, almost angry that more time had passed than I had intended. I glanced over to the men. They were relaxed, smoking, and I hated to pull them away, but I had to. Yet, although I felt urgency, I got up lazily. “Okay, men. Ko’one’ex!”158

  In order to reach the creek, we had left the trail and climbed down the precipitous, stony, and deep gully. Previously, at times, the rock formation was like steps and relatively easy to tab over especially since it was dry season. Not this time and climbing back up to the trail proved very difficult as there were loose jagged rocks on which we stumbled constantly. Robertson and Teul once rolled down for several yards until they caught hold of a bush strong enough to hold them. The amount of cussing that came from the mouths of my men was abundant and original, but we finally came out the gorge. I had expected to proceed immediately, but the men threw themselves down, breathing hard. That gave me a bit of concern.

  “Take a five,” I said, too quietly. They all looked up at me as if saying, we already are, while Taat stood staring thoughtfully down at them.

  We continued on the trail, walking through multitudes of cordonsillo,159 xtyay-ach-bak-shúl,160 mes-bél or ‘chichibe’ as Teul would call it, calaloo,161 and many other bushes that grew on and beside abandoned roads and clearings. Robertson kept bending over and touching the xmutz162 leaves, staring at them as if amazed when they closed at his touch. I hoped he didn’t develop a backache as he wasn’t as young as he thought. Choc was just as bad. Sorosi vines were growing over everything and he kept picking the ripe yellow-orange fruits, sucking the red seeds then spiting them out at whoever was nearby. He handed them around to us and for a while everyone was sucking and spitting out the seeds at whoever was nearest to them. If I didn’t know my men, I would have regarded this behavior as a possible serious distraction. It wasn’t. My section was always vigilant.

  We were still tabing northward, at as good a march as we could, and I estimated that we had a mile-and-a-half before we turned east, and another mile to arrive at Union Camp. I initially hoped that the river or stream that flowed west of the camp wouldn’t be too deep to walk across, but then I wished it to be as having a bath would not only be refreshing, but it would clean us of our dirt and grime and help to keep our skin healthy. Our stink would remain, however, as that was deeply embedded in our combats.

  I kept looking at Taat and Choc, waiting to see them indicate that something had changed with the movement of the horde of kitams and hach-k’ek’ens, and the Kechelaj Komon. Occasionally, they moved off the trail to examine something, but they didn’t come over to me so I knew nothing had changed. We were either following … or they were leading.

  The jungle we were travelling through was a little different than before as some of the trees in the area lost their leaves in the dry season, which we were in. Others lost their leaves when they flowered or bore fruit. Generally, however, the jungle was still thick and green. Tall mis163 palms were everywhere, densely covered with spines, their large glossy green leaves moving in a moderate southeasterly wind that had sprung up. The leaves looked like the palm of one’s hand with a silvery-white underside. Some of the mis palms had bunches of round white fruit and others had creme-colored flowers. Kriols, like Rhys, called the plant ‘give-an-take’ because the spines could give a very bad stinging cut, but other parts of the plant could take away bleeding, infection, and pain.

  It was about 1200 hours when we turned east, making good time. We came to the stream indicated on the map within an hour. It was about waist high at its deepest, full of large and flattened boulders resting on top the step-like rock formations. There were small noisy rapids with areas of smaller rocks only about a foot in depth and we could remove our boots and walk easily across. Even though the waters were a bit agitated in areas, it was a peaceful place. A very large amate164 with a massive trunk grew on the opposite bank, casting its canopy of pointed, oval, dark green and shiny leaves over most of the stream. Occasionally, whitish-pink flowers fell to the surface below. From many of the crevices on the rocks, the ek-chi-chan grew and I felt pain deep within me as I remembered my wedding altar covered with their delicate leaves and my thoughts could not help going back to the bed of ek-chi-chan that I had laid Molly upon when we first fuc … made love by the Hidden Valley Falls. Clusters of yellow flowers from the ix-anal165 graced the banks and the woody shrub was so thick that the trail was lost from view. Wild custard apple or tsu-jipox166 trees grew on both sides of the stream and the men, except Choc who was clearing an area on the opposite bankside, were already picking ripe fruit to eat. Although they were small and seedy, the fruit had a pleasant aroma and were very flavorful.

  Rhys informed me that it was almost 1300 hours. We were about quarter mile away from Union Camp, at the maximum I assumed, for the loggers kept their camps as close to a water source as possible. We had about six hours of daylight time left and we could make Nasario Perez Camp and possibly even Burgos by nightfall, providing there were no problems.

  “Okay, men. Let’s have a bath. Put all your weapons together. I’ll stand guard for a while then one of you will volunteer to take over so I can get in the water. We have half-an-hour.

  “I’ll take over from you,” offered Robertson.

  Sometimes, the men were just like a group of boys. “Who in the water first?” shouted Rhys, so they hurriedly undressed trying to get into the river first. The funny thing about it was that I wanted to join them badly. Sometimes it was better just being a private, just taking orders, having no responsibilities except getting the mission done … as ordered.

  After about ten minutes, Robertson came to relieve me. I told him to take his bergen and weapon across to the area Choc had cleared and dress there. “Okay, men,” I shouted above the noise of both the men and the rapids. “Come and get your bergens and arms and take them over.”

  Teul looked at his wrist, where there was no watch. “It’s not half hour yet, Sarge.”

  I moaned. “Just get your fokin things, take th
em across to the fokin clearing, and then you can get your fokin ass back in the river. Am I fokin clear, Teul?”

  “Sarge! Made madafok clear.” I could only shake my head.

  Rhys remained on the western bank, covering the rear, Robertson guarding the arms and bergens on the eastern bank. I stripped and submerged myself in the cool clean rapidly flowing water of the river, shutting out the world, shutting out Teul. I would have loved to stay there, but I soon climbed the bank again, got my equipment, then Rhys and I crossed over to Robertson.

  “Okay, men,” I yelled. “Time’s up. Get up here and get dressed.”. Rhys took out the compass to ensure we were on an easterly track and we were soon cutting our way to Union Camp.

  Taat looked at the compass. “We don’t need that,” he said, indignantly.

  Rhys looked at me, but I was already back to Expedition Bold and Hulse, who was always using the compass. “Sarge?” queried Rhys.

  “Continue using it,” I instructed.” “That’s what you know.” Taat shrugged his shoulders.

  The trail was non-existent and so we had to machete our way. Some of the growth was woody and thick, almost as hard as chaparrals to cut through, and we were taking more time than I had allotted. We finally reached Union Camp at 1430 hours. There wasn’t much left of it except for a rusted drum and a few upright posts that probably held up a thatched roof. The grounds were thickly overgrown, but we were able to find the old truck pass going northeast. If the map was correct, at a mile’s distance we would encounter the Poctun Trail going northwest. If we found that trail, it would be a good marker. From there we would continue almost due north to Nasario Perez.

  We spent only fifteen minutes at Union Camp, standing in bushes that reached up to our heads, barely able to see the mountains around us. We’d have probably spent less time, but Taat was collecting some herbs he wanted to add to his collection. Robertson came over to me.

  “Sarge. What type of vegetation are we going to meet ahead.”

  “Pretty much the same as we’ve been going through,” I replied.

  He frowned, as if hesitating to ask another question. “Go ahead, Robertson. This is probably a good time.” I gesticulated towards Taat gathering the plants with Teul as his helper. I shook my head.

  “Although I have acquainted myself with the jungle, I am more used to the English forest. Since we have time, please give me some details. It will give me an idea of what’s ahead.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “From Santa Cruz to Edwards Camp, the canopy was tight. We had three layers of trees besides the underbrush. There was the canopy way up yonder, then a middle layer, then a lower layer. After Edwards Camp and until here, Union Camp, we had a mixture of, firstly, a tight canopy and a lower layer. No middle layer. Secondly, we had an open canopy with both a middle and a lower layer.” Robertson stared at me and I almost felt embarrassed. “I studied all this in preparation for jungle training,” I explained. “Also on my own. From when I was a boy, when Father Stiobhan took me out my jungle and placed me in his school, I looked at and read everything about the jungle that was available. He saw my interest and even brought books for me. I’m not sure why as he knew I didn’t like him. I don’t think I ever told him thanks. Anyhow, when I had those books, I was in my jungle.” He nodded. “We were mainly on the old trails and truck passes so it wasn’t really important,” I continued. “It becomes important when we’re going through the jungle and have no trail as the thickness of the canopy influences the undergrowth. A thick canopy means less undergrowth and so it’s easier to machete. Of course, with this jungle, you can never be certain. Also, as we go up and down the mountains, it changes. From here to Burgos Camp, we’ll have the three-layer jungle with a tight canopy reaching at times way over a hundred feet. That helps lessens the underbrush. It tends not to be as thick, easier to machete.” Robertson looked at me as if amazed. “What?” I queried.

  “You just know so much about the jungle.”

  I smirked. “This is my jungle, Robertson. This is Maya land. It was in jungle like this where Taat and I used to hunt. Still do when I can. I grew up in these jungles. And as I said, when Father Stiobhan took me to school, after a few years when I had advanced enough, quickly I must add, I read about these jungles and my people, the Maya. I still do. I have studied everything I could about them. I suppose that was one of the few things that kept me in school. Of course, Nah’ was always insistent. She wanted my sister and I to be educated. Taat always grumbled that he needed me to help him in the kool, that’s the milpa, and to hunt and fish. That was his life. Deep down, at that age that’s all I wanted too … the hunting and fishing I mean.” I chuckled. “Perhaps, I still do.” I shook my head. “After my head became filled with all that learning, it was difficult to just go back to Taat’s way of life. I got confused and that confusion got me into a lot of fokin trouble. If I didn’t have Bas with me …” Robertson was staring at me. I snickered. “Why the fok am I telling you all of this, Robertson?”

  It was his turn to shrug his shoulders. “Most times it’s good to just unload.” He smiled. “And is there a better place for it than your jungle? I don’t think so, Sarge. Just let the problems be carried by the wind into the trees and mountains of your jungle.” I looked at him. I think I was beginning to like the Englishman.

  I shook with emotions. “Better let’s go,” I said, and we walked towards the trail we had already identified. One of the men had cleared a small area and the men were sitting there, smoking a’kl, except Taat who was standing, and Teul who was pissing. He was still moving his feet, but not as much as before, so I assumed that Taat’s remedy was working. “If anybody else wants to piss, do it now or ko’one’ex. Make sure you put out your smokes properly. Start a fire and with the breeze behind us, there won’t be a river deep enough to save our fokin asses. Okay! We’ll travel northerly to Nasario Perez, its two miles away, then on to Burgos Camp, which is another three miles, northwesterly then northeasterly. We’ll eat at Burgos Camp. That’s a total of five miles, as the crow flies. We only have another six hours of light. Before we start, however, I just want you to look to the east at that ridge just across from us; it’s about three miles away and runs nine miles on a southwest to northeast alignment. It is called the Little Quartz Ridge. It’s not really part of the Maya Mountains, but a block of rock that dates back many millions of years. I thought you’d find that interesting, but that’s not why I’m giving you that bit of information.” I felt Robertson’s eyes gaping at me. “And don’t ask me how I know that, Teul. It is a good marker. It confirms where we are. Now, ko’one’ex!”

  Choco was leading, macheting, otherwise we were in the assigned formation. Taat was talking to Choc then he moved out of formation and came up to me. “Taat,” I said, in acknowledgement.

  “Sarge.”

  “Yes.” We continued walking.

  “Choc and I have been noting the freshness of the tracks in the nearby jungle. They are not far ahead of us, and it seems that they intend to continue just staying ahead of us. It’s as if they want us to follow them. They haven’t tried to stop us. They haven’t attacked us. They haven’t even come very close to us.”

  “I sighed. “That’s what they want, Taat.” Taat frowned. I smiled, dejectedly. “They’re leading us on, Taat. They want us to follow them into their jungle where they will be at their strongest. They’re leading us on until they get us where they want us to be. Then they’ll attack.”

  “Their jungle?” queried Taat.

  “Yes, Taat. Their jungle.” He looked puzzled. I looked down as we walked. “I never told you what happened to Molly and me on that trip into the Cockscomb Basin.”

  “No, you didn’t, and I decided to wait until you were ready to tell me.”

  I looked at my father. “Taat. We’re going into a very dangerous world. I don’t know when we will leave these jungles we know and be taken to the next, but it will happen. We may not even be aware of it. Sisimito is ta
king Molly there and he expects me to follow. I think … know … he wants me to be his prisoner when he marries Molly. He wants me to be there when he beds her. He wants me to watch. Then he will kill me.” I didn’t realize that my free hand had reached up to my neck and I was holding on to Bas’ Green Scapular. Taat was staring at me. “I am not afraid for me, Taat. I am afraid for my men. For you, Taat. If you and my men even survive getting into Sisimito’s jungle, I don’t know if you all will get through what happens there. I don’t know if you will get out. It’s a burden I don’t want.”

  “Paal.167 Those men are soldiers just like you. Most of them are Maya like you. They all love and respect you as their leader, even Robertson. They saw what happened at Santa Cruz. They may not understand it, none of us really understand it, but we have put that aside to be with you and we know that we will be facing grave danger because we came with you. The men have come because they are Warriors and they will fight at your side, die at your side, if necessary. Do you see any of them looking worried or afraid? No! They laugh. They talk. They grumble. They cuss. They sweat. That is how they prepare mentally to cope with whatever happens. They do more than what is normally required of people. They know what is happening around them even if they don’t make it obvious. They are ready to react at less than a moment’s notice. They are good men, even that Teul, and they are ready to die to protect you and bring back Molly.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, Taat. I don’t want to be responsible for their deaths. I have had to endure that already.”

  “Let’s not think about the future, Paal, or dwell in the past. Let’s look after the here and now. I ask you these questions. Where are you? The answer is ‘Here.’ What time is it? The answer is ‘Now.’ What are you? The answer is ‘This moment.’168 That is how you must live.” Taat looked at me, almost sadly, then shook his head as if awakening. He continued. “Make sure we hear, smell, see everything around us. Make sure we touch and taste the wind that we may know where it comes from, where it is going, and over what it passes. If we do that, we will make no mistakes and we will know what the Kechelaj Komon is thinking.” He gave me a short smile then went back to his position in the file. It was not often that Taat called me ‘Paal’.