Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  Illustration 11: The Chiquibul Branch Tributary and the Sani-bay.

  Before long, the camp was properly set up. It was already dark, but the roaring fire brightly illuminated the sanibay, the adjacent river, and the jungle. We had a good supply of wood from the dead tree, so fuel was not a problem. Taat had added herbs to the fish and was smoking them in waha leaves over the fire. Choco and Choc had not returned yet, but I wasn’t worried. They were at home in the jungle, just like me, and Taat had informed us that our enemy wasn’t nearby.

  “Chac Uayab Xoc237 has been good to you. I see you remember,” beamed Taat.

  “What?”

  “How to make the spear and how to fish. Do you remember the tradition?”

  “I do, Taat. Everything. From the vigil that takes place the night before to the two-day journey to and from the river, and the hunt for fish, crabs, and kaanilha’s.238 I remember the search for the bolouyuuk-ikilab-ixchquow-chalaam and the kumum. I have placed the becan with its candle in the river for the success of the fish hunt, watching it float downstream. I can still see the village elder, sometimes it was you, lighting the Sacred Copal incense and the candle. I can still smell the incense. How could I forget, Taat?”239 Taat simply nodded, his face expressionless, and turned back to his smoking fish.

  Illustration 12: The Ek Baläm Prints.

  Robertson, Rhys, and Teul were already in the river, washing themselves and their combats. I took off my boots and placed them on two of the several branches Rhys had stuck in the ground near the fire for us to put our boots and clothes.

  “Tin bin ichkíil,”240 I said to Taat. “Ko’one’ex.”

  He shook his head. “Mata’m-apanoq.”241

  “Okay,” I answered as I took off my combats, boxers, socks and carrying them walked to the river to join the other men. It would be good to have a clean skin for the evening and even though the combats would smell very little better, at least they would have been washed with soap. The only issue was whether or not they would dry in the humidity. I supposed that really didn’t matter as they would be soaked with sweat as soon as we started tabing again.

  It was dark, but the light from the fire was enough for us to see plainly. Peeniwali were all around us. Rhys threw a soap to me and I sat on a flat rock and started scrubbing. There was a shot gun report quickly followed by a second and I looked automatically to the jungle where the blasts came from. It was not very far away.

  “Think they got something?” asked Robertson.

  “Choc rarely misses,” I answered. “In fact, he has a bit of a reputation in Blue Creek. That’s where he’s from, originally. I may have mentioned that before.”

  “As a hunter?” asked Robertson.

  “Yep!”

  “Not only as a hunter,” added Teul. “According to Choc, the gyals just love him. He could kwashi two or three a night if he wanted.”

  “I suppose the gyals just like a good hunter man,” I said, chuckling.

  “What is kwashi?” asked Robertson. “Is it Maya?”

  We looked at him and Rhys and I started laughing. Teul was grinning, as usual. I indicated to Teul that he should explain.

  “No, Medic. It’s Kriol. It means having sex. Fucking. Another Kriol word for it is juk. You’re married. You should know about that.”

  “I thought so,” answered Robertson, ignoring that latter comment. “When you use Kriol words or expressions, even Maya, I can sometimes

  figure out what you are saying by your mannerisms or what is said next in English. I try to figure it out rather than ask.”

  “As do I,” said Rhys. “With the Maya, that is.”

  “Sometimes though, I’m stuck,” continued Robertson. “There was a word someone used a couple days back. What was it?” He closed his eyes thinking. “Oh. It was ak’.” We burst out laughing.

  “Oh Medic,” jested Teul. “You should have been able to figure that one out. I’m sure you’re well acquainted with it. At least, I hope so.” We laughed again.

  “Well, it seems that the joke’s on me,” said Robertson. “What does ak’ mean?”

  “Tell him.” I indicated to Teul.

  “It’s that sweet spot a gyal has, Medic.”

  Robertson frowned. “Where?” We actually threw ourselves in the water, laughing.

  “It’s the clits, Medic. Don’t you ever play with the clits? Like this,” said Teul rubbing his thumbs and middle finger lightly. “Sometimes just giving it a little lick with the tip of the tongue? Touch and taste.”

  “Of course,” answered Robertson. He was red in the face, and not only from the reflections of the fire, then looked amused. “Not with the ones that give me bad-siknis, though. Did you lick that one, Teul?”

  We looked at Teul, who had a silly grin on his face, and cracked-up. “Good one, good oneMedic,” I stammered. Of course, Teul had to make a comeback.

  “Let’s forget about that.” Then came the grin. “I’ve been watching you, Medic, as we’ve been bathing. I couldn’t help it. You’ve got some nice looking ch’ench’kils you know. ‘Bum-cheeks’ is what you call them. Right?”

  “Ch’ench’kils! Ch’ench’kils!” I whooped.

  “Yes, Teul. That’s what I call them … and they’re mine. You have no bloody chance of getting to them,” advised Robertson, quite seriously.

  We were laughing when I heard the bushes moving apart. I looked towards the camp and saw the glare of a headlight coming from the jungle, followed by Choco and Choc. “Shoot and you lose your dinner,” shouted Choco. “Four chachalacas,”242 he announced, throwing the birds on the ground.

  “Cha-cha-lac! Cha-cha-lac!” sung Choc, imitating the noisy call the bird made.

  “I hated to shoot them,” lamented Choco, unconvincingly. “It was almost like taking advantage as they were sleeping on a branch, but I’m madafoka hungry and I want meat, not those madafoka army rations.” He grinned.

  “Clean them. I want to get in the river too,” grumbled Taat.

  “Sure, Taat,” they replied, saluting him.

  They put the gun and headlight with the bergens, removed their boots and placed them on the stick to dry, picked up the birds and came over and sat in the river beside us. They worked quickly with their knives and soon the birds were ready for Taat to season and smoke.

  “Tz’o’okeen,”243 shouted Choco, as he and Choc carried the birds to Taat. They hurried back and threw themselves in the river, looking very pleased with themselves.

  “Here’s the soap, you two. Skin and combats,” instructed Rhys.

  We remained another hour in the river, just enjoying the peace of the jungle night and the camaraderie between us. I wished that Taat would have joined us, but he was smoking the meat and also, in fact, doing guard duty. When we saw him walking towards us, we knew it was time for us to get out.

  We dried off and dressed in our one extra boxers or shorts. There were no flies, but Robertson still took out a bottle of insect repellant, should we need it.

  “Okay, get your mess utensils. It’s smoked fish and chachalaca, hot cocoa mix, coffee, apple sauce and crackers, and what’s left of the sikpet,” announced Rhys. “And remember that Taat is still in the river. Leave some for him or I’m sure he’ll deal with you personally.”

  Robertson made a sound with his lips as he ate the fish. “This is really good. I didn’t know river fish tasted so good; and you speared them so quickly, Sarge.”

  “The taste is different from salt water fish, but I grew up on river fish. From the time when I was big enough to stand up and not piss on my feet, I have been spearing fish. Taat taught me.” I smiled. “Taat and my people mainly used trapping, poisoning, and the bamboo spear for fishing in those days. Now they use nets, hooks, guns, spear guns. There’s no tradition in catching fishes that way.”

  “Poisoning?” queried Robertson. “Wasn’t that dangerous … and probably illegal as well?”

  “Not dangerous. Not illegal.
It was quite a ceremony, done in the dry season when the rivers were low.”

  “Go ahead, Sarge,” suggested Teul. “Enlighten the scientific Medic.”

  “Okay. Eat and lay back, Men. The leader of the fishing trip, that was often Taat, would select some men from the village. If they were going to a big enough river, the leader would choose about twenty men for the trip. The night before, the villagers would hold a vigil night until mid-night in one of the men’s houses. Early the next morning, we would all go to the selected river.”

  “At what age were you allowed to go?” asked Robertson. “Weren’t you quite young, at that time?”

  I looked at Robertson, the Englishman I was beginning to like. “Stop interrupting me, Medic.” He reddened and I burst out laughing. “Teasing, Medic.” I paused momentarily. “From the time a boy develops hair around his balls, he has the duties of a man and he is treated as a man. There is much to learn so that when a boy marries, he knows how to take care of his family. In those days, most girls in the village were able to marry as early as age fourteen. The boys usually marry a bit older, but by nineteen, definitely.”

  “I don’t suppose that still continues,” said Robertson.

  “No. It doesn’t. With school, college, your British laws, the desire to leave the village to seek different opportunities, like the army, the desire to fuck and its availability without getting married … How the fok did I get into that? Robertson! You’re always distracting me.”

  “Sorry, Sarge.”

  “Only teasing, Robertson. Anyway, we carried food for two days. When we reached the river, we placed all the food bags in one area and went off into the jungle to look for bolouyuuk-ikilab-ixchquow-chalaam. That’s the vine that was used to poison the river. We also looked for kumum, a palm whose leaf is used as a broom to prepare the area intended for fishing. By the end of the day, we returned with bundles of the vine and leaves. We then caught fish, crabs, and eels for dinner. At times, some women from the village came along to cook for us. Afterwards, we just slept anywhere.

  “Early the next morning, we woke up and ate breakfast. The leader then burned the Sacred Copal incense and made a becan on which he placed a lighted candle and sent it floating down the river. A small ritual was then held for the success of the fish hunt.”

  “What’s a becan?” asked Rhys.

  “It’s a piece of dry cohune bark that floated. After that, we placed the vines on the river and beat the fok out of them with wooden clubs. After about an hour, the river began to turn brown and that was the sign we had waited for. The fishes were not happy and wanted to escape the poison so they began jumping and we collected them quickly. The women then made fresh fish soup for lunch. Afterwards, the fishes were divided equally among the men and the cleaning began after which they were salted, smoked, or wrapped in waha leaf with herbs and salt and pepper, to be cooked over the fire for dinner. After dinner, we went to sleep then returned to the village the next morning. Each man returned to his home, along with his wife if she had accompanied him, and the family began to make kua to eat with the fresh smoked river fish. That’s my story around the fire for the night.” Everyone was very quiet. There seemed to be a sadness or melancholy hanging in the night air and only the persistent chirp-chirp of the xirs was heard.

  “You have had a wonderful life, Sarge,” said Robertson.

  “Yes! But a long time ago. I do miss it. Now it’s quite foked up.”

  “It can still be wonderful, Paal,” said Taat, who had come from the river to stand near us.

  I looked up at him. “Thanks for everything you have done for me, Taat.” I felt my eyes moisten.

  He stared at me strangely, nodded, then turned away to get dressed. I had also seen moisture in his eyes, as the flames from our fire danced on them.

  Robertson sensed that too much emotion was building among us. “I have a little story. Actually, two. Do you know that cohune nuts from this country were used to make charcoal for the British soldiers during World War One? Also, the Cotton Tree seed pods, which contain kapok, a light resilient water repellant fiber, were used during World War Two for life jackets, regular jackets, and vests. It gave good protection in cold weather. Unfortunately, it was also very inflammable.”

  “The Ceiba Tree is called the yaxché by my people. It is called katn chree by the Kriol. The yaxché is your Cotton Tree, Robertson … Medic. It is very sacred to my people,” I continued. He looked at me, seemed a little lost as to what to say. “I hope it protected your country men during the war.”

  “I am sure it did,” he answered.

  We were all quiet for a while, each with his own thoughts, then Robertson spoke again.

  “When it comes to Coral244 snakes, the British Army boys here have a jingle:

  ‘Red and yellow kill a fellow,

  Red and black, a friendly jack.’

  They say that when you see a snake with the red and yellow rings lying next to each other, regard it as a deadly Coral.”

  “There are other harmless snakes with red and yellow rings. You just have to know which is a Coral,” said Choc. “The rings the real Coral has are red, yellow, black, yellow, then red again.

  “Well, to be safe, we are told to stay away from all snakes with the red and yellow combination,” answered Robertson.

  “That’s because you’re not from the jungle,” pointed out Choc, somewhat somber.

  “I suppose I’m not,” responded Robertson, lightly.

  “You’ll end up killing a lot of harmless snakes, like the Tropical King Snake,” continued Choc.

  “Do I always bring up the wrong things?’ asked Robertson, looking dismayed.

  “It’s not you, Medic. It’s just that you’re a limey,” answered Teul, jokingly. “You had no control over that, but don’t worry. We still love you.” He paused grinning. “Even though you couldn’t cure my bad-siknis.” He chuckled. “And even thought you keep pissing off Choc with all your scientific knowledge.”

  “Thank you, Teul,” replied Robertson, bowing his head.

  “You’d have to do something real stupid to be bitten by a Coral,” added Choco.

  “That’s right,” said Teul, then he started grinning, looking at me and I knew I was in for it. “Sarge.”

  “Yes, Teul. Go ahead. It’s my turn.”

  “All this talk about snakes made me think of a question I wanted to ask you a long time ago. You call your toon ‘Tóolok’. Why is that?”

  I could see the men beginning to grin and I knew that they were all involved in this exercise. It would be painful for me, however, as I would have to talk about Bas. Yet, I knew that I had to provide the men with some amusement at my expense. “Well, Teul, when my late friend Lance Corporal-The-Bas-Shal, as we called him, and I were boys and we used to swim in the river, he told me that my toon looked like a tóolok because it had an extra piece of skin hanging below the head. You know how a tóolok puts out an orange skin from under its neck when it’s out on a branch in the sun trying to attract a female. And that’s the story, men. Satisfied?”

  “The fact that the lance corporal didn’t call it Huuh’ instead of Tóolok’, is that of any significance?” The men, except Robertson and Rhys, started to laugh.” Teul put up his hand. “And so that Medic and Rhys can understand what this very important discussion is about, tóolok is a very small lizard while huuh is a big madafok one. So, Sarge, if the lance corporal’s reason for his choice of tóolok is what I think it is, that would be very disappointing. Very bad, as a matter of fact, that all the men in this section have huuhs and the patrol commander only a tóolok. That’s not good at all.” The men roared with laughter.

  “Listen, you fokas. My toon may be called Tóolok, but it is bigger than all your huuhs put together.”

  “Self-praise,” shouted Choco, amidst the laughter.

  “Well, we better start thinking about bedding down,” I said when the laughter and lewd comments had finally died down, b
ut it was not until about 2200 hours that the men took to their ground sheets. I was concerned about us sleeping only in shorts or boxers even though we each hugged our rifle and had our machete nearby. I liked us fully dressed should something happen, but the combats, socks, and boots were still very wet and our feet and bodies needed some fresh air in order to remain healthy. I was assured by Taat, however, that there was nothing in the area, I had nothing to worry about, and I believed him. We still did guard duty, of course, and Rhys had set that up, he taking the first watch.

  Before going to sleep, I walked to the river and pissed. Rhys joined me, smoking a’kl. He handed it to me and I took a long draw. He remained quiet so I knew something was on his mind.

  “Out with it,” I said.

  “We’ve been tabing since Monday. That’s five days.”

  “And?”

  “You have not spoken about Molly.” It was my turn to be quiet. “The men … we are here because of you. We want to help you get Molly back. You did tell us about Expedition Bold, but lately you share nothing.”

  I looked hard at Rhys. “We are on a mission and I am in charge. I pass on information on a need to know basis. You and the men just need to get done what needs to be done. I have not kept you in the dark about anything and I will not do that. Molly, however, is, isvery personal. Look at tonight, Rhys. We had great camaraderie.”

  Rhys looked down, kicking sand with his foot. “You can’t depersonalize this mission, Chiac. This mission is about you and Molly.” He looked back at me. “Let us take on some of the emotions in this mission. It will not only hold the section together, it will cement us together.”

  “Having emotions on a dangerous mission is very foolhardy and perilous. You should know that Rhys.”