bankside that was curving to the right, a spur came down into the nim-ja’, the river. It would be a good place to land, stretch, and piss. I wanted to piss.
“Eztli.”
“Yes, Chiac?”
“Will there be a break? The Warriors could do with a short rest. We could stop at that spur we are approaching. I also want to piss.”
He snickered before answering. As he was behind me, I couldn’t see his face. “We cannot stop.”
“Why is that?”
“Your Warriors would drown.” We both said nothing for a while then he continued. “Your warriors are barely able to keep their canoes straight. Trying to get to the spur is impossible. If they tried to get there, they would capsize. The Ja’-nima’ is too swift and going ashore on the outside curve of the nim-ja’ is a mistake only the inexperienced would make.” He paused and I couldn’t help thinking it was for effect. “The current undermines the shore, exposing the roots of trees, causing them to fall in. Whether or not the trees have been washed away, the force of the water will pin a canoe against the land, water will pile up and push the canoe under. That can happen with only bushes by the side of the nim-ja’ when the wo-ja’211 is heavy. Even trees that have fallen or heavily leaning over the nim-ja’, still rooted to the bank side and not fully submerged, can cause great turbulence and capsize a canoe.” He paused again then continued. “Leave those decisions to me, Chiac. Go ahead and piss in the canoe. If you stand, you will turn us over. Piss like a woman.” I heard chuckling behind me. “And you do not have to worry about wetting your loincloth. You are not wearing any.” Chuckling again. I pissed. Within the hour, there was more piss at the bottom of the canoe. No one had stood up.
When we had left Sib Juyub, the wide valley or beya’ was completely flooded. We kept just off the right bank, avoiding the stiff current at the center of the flood. For the past mile or so, however, the beya’ was narrowing and the current everywhere getting swifter. Eztli did not appear to be concerned so I said nothing, at first. I soon recollected a conversation I had with Yochi concerning the trip on the Ja’-nima’ to Quiriguá. He had mentioned rapids, so I brought up the subject again, speaking quietly.
“Yochi.”
“Yes, Chiac?”
“Do you think we will have problems with the rapids you mentioned?”
He thought for a moment. “With this wo-ja’, I think they will be submerged. It is difficult to say, however, as I don’t know how high above the rapids the Ja’-nima’ is. I am sure Eztli knows where they are. He’ll know what to do.”
“I hope so, but I don’t think Eztli has seen a flood, a wo-ja’, this heavy in his lifetime and heavy wo-ja’s can change the riverbed. He’s too fokin cock-sure and that may prove a problem. I’ve seen this in Tol … in my kingdom. Rocks and boulders are moved, thrown about. Sand and mud are deposited in different areas and new channels are made for the flowing water. This beya’ is narrowing and as we begin to leave the mountains, there may be a gradient downwards. This will increase the swiftness and turbulence. We could be in serious trouble, Yochi.” I had just finished that dire prediction when the surface of the water suddenly became very agitated and trees along the flooded banks jerked as they swayed. Many toppled into the Ja’-nima’, were clenched and yanked under then released, hurriedly driven downstream.212
“Cabrakan!” murmured Eztli. Yochi and I held up our paddles. The men in front of us did not miss a stroke, but kept on paddling. The current was pulling the fallen trees into the center of the flooded plain, possibly where the Ja’-nima’ normally flowed. “More to the right,” shouted Eztli, trying to keep us away from the increasingly strengthening current at the center of the flooded plain. The man in front of me shouted and pointed to the right, where we were to go, then quickly resumed his paddling. Both Yochi and I looked, but there was nothing different to see. Yochi took to paddling, once again, but I just held onto mine.
“Decide if you’re going to paddle or not,” yelled Eztli, angrily, as he stood, surveying the area. “And if you’re not, get out. The rest of you, keep paddling!” That was the first time I had heard a suggestion of uncertainty in Eztli’s voice.
“I thrust my paddle into the Ja’-nima’ as the sound of a song I had heard before, at a place I wanted to forget, flooded over me sending koal seed over my trembling body. Several trees were floating grouped together and sitting on one of the branches was Xwáay Ok’ol,213 combing her long wavy black hair, wailing and crying pitifully between the lines of the song she always sung, La Llorona, her white dress pulled down to her waist. She swung her feet in the water, each foot turning from time to time into the tail of a kaan. Wrapped around the trees was Mahanamtz’ giant boccatora clapansaya who was dancing to the rhythm of her song as it caressed her breasts with its forked tongue, Xwáay Ok’ol in turn kissing it intermittently on its mouth.
Xwáay Kumätz,214 dressed in full white, her long black hair draping most of her upper body, sat not too far from Xwáay Ok’ol, weeping, her tail splashing the water of the flooded nim-ja’.
Above both of them, standing on a higher branch was Q’eq Ha’ Wíinik,215 jumping up and down, his large toon dancing from knee to knee, his white palms and soles flashing the flames of the sinking Kinich Ahau. There were times he jumped into the flooded Ja’-nima’, then scampered back to his former position above the two other members of the Kechelaj Komon. Whenever he exited the nim-ja’, loud moaning sounds floated across to us from the raft of fallen trees. The Ja’-nima’ became agitated again and, in the distance, I heard the crazy laughter of the kos, Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.
“Paddle, Chiac,” ordered Eztli. “We are in danger.” That time there was urgency in his voice. Yet, he was calm. I quickly picked up the rhythm of the paddlers, once again. Then Cabrakan brought down his maquahuitl.
Ja’-nima’ became a turmoil of waves as the entire valley shook. The mountains roared in pain, their cries echoing over and over again. Mountain sides and trees abutting Ja’-nima’ tore themselves away from their foundations, crashing into the nim-ja’, building large waves, pointing them towards the center of the nim-ja’.
“Keep paddling,” screamed Eztli, who was still standing. “Away from the banks! To the center!” He picked up the töt and blew as we paddled forcefully, racing to the center of the nim-ja’, the large waves closing in on us. As we reached the center, strong and swift currents surged us forward and Ja’-nima’ began a rapid descent on an increasing gradient. The incredibly large waves lessened before reaching us as if ordered to do so, but nothing was as before. Sprays of the brown water rose causing patches of mist over the Ja’-nima’ and the increased downward gradient and the violent current turned Ja’-nima’ into a raging torrent. Also, the riverbed had been changed by the earthquake and the surface of Ja’-nima’ had become treacherous. Rocks and boulders had been forced upward from the riverbed and were protruding from the turbulent surface. The bowman and the sternman were having great difficulty in keeping the canoe going straight downstream. I didn’t even glance at the other canoes, just kept looking straight ahead as we were propelled towards a huge boulder with foamy boiling water building and pouring over it.
“Achaq! Get us away from that boulder,” cried out Eztli, or we’ll drop into the hole and it will take us under.”216 The bowman and sternman continued fighting to steer the boat away from the foaming boulder, the rest of us paddling frantically. “Paddle in unison,” shouted Eztli.
“We’ll barely pass it,” shouted Yochi.
“We have to keep away from it,” yelled Eztli. “Behind it will be an eddy wall.217 If we get in there we won’t get out and we’ll flip and be pulled under.”
We kept rushing towards the boulder, then the canoe began to turn. We passed close enough that I could see the eddy wall reaching several feet below the level of the nim-ja’, and the swirling whirlpool at its bottom. The canoe was taking in water.
“Chiac and Yochi! Bail,” ordered Ezt
li. It was only then that I realized that the canoe was about half filled with water. “Leave the paddling to us.” Once again, Cabrakan reminded us he was there.
As I bailed with my right hand, holding onto Bas’ Green Scapular with my left, Yochi and I looked around, trying to see the other canoes. I saw them scattered about the surface of Ja’-nima’ between the white waters caused by the rocks, all of them bailing. Like us, they were having great difficulties steering for the turmoil of the currents were pulling them one way then the other. The waves were large, breaking, and causing heavy turbulence, and because of the rough and random pattern of the turned over riverbed, many of the waves came as strong sideways and diagonal waves, throwing the canoes off course. There were also many areas of high velocity flow and turmoil as water flowed through narrow spaces between rocks near and further below the surface.
I didn’t know which of the canoes carried my Warriors and which Eztli’s men, but I knew we were in fokin trouble. I kept on bailing, with both hands then, not looking up until the bowman shouted a warning. The entire Ja’-nima’ ahead of us was covered by a thick mist caused by dark spray droplets. I felt the momentum of the canoe surge forward as we began a rapid shallow descent through cascading foaming water. One of the canoes began to spin and, within seconds, it had disgorged all its Warriors into the foaming water. I looked at Eztli. He shook his head. Yochi and I kept on frantically bailing. The others continued paddling and steering, desperately, as we were driven downstream. Then, suddenly, we were on swift but quiet waters, out of the turbulance. The flooded Ja’-nima’ and its valley had calmed.
“There’s nothing we could have done, Chiac.”
I took a deep breath. “I know, Eztli.” We remained quiet for a while, still having to work hard at keeping the canoe going straight. “How many canoes do you see?”
“All except one, Chiac. I cannot tell if that canoe carried your Warriors or my own men.” He paused. “We’ll just have to wait and see, but it is more likely that it carried your Warriors.”
“Ja’-nima’ is not as angry as it was, Eztli. Can’t we slow down and look for them.”
“If they were not trapped in the undercut rocks, or the submerged trees, the currents alone would have carried them under.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They are Warriors, Chiac. We will mourn them once we reach Quiriguá.”
“They are Warriors, Eztli. For that reason, they may still live. Perhaps they have become the áayin as it sleeps in the chokoh.” I felt Eztli’s stare into the back of my head. “Perhaps they have held on to the sides of the canoe, or to a tree.”
“The Warrior lives to die, Chiac. We do not take that privilege from him.”
“They live to die in battle. It is not a privilege to die in the bosom of a swollen nim-ja’.” I paused, then asked, “Are you a Warrior, Eztli?”
Eztli did not answer immediately then he said, “Once you have bailed out all the water, Chiac, resume paddling, or we too will join them in the bosom of this swollen nim-ja’. We are still in grave danger.”
Eztli didn’t say anything for a while and we kept on paddling in silence. After a k’ab, the nim-ja’ became even calmer, flattening out into a wide valley. The canoe rocked a little and I turned. Eztli was still standing up, holding the töt in his hand. “I see no signs of an overturned canoe, Chiac, but there are many trees and stumps in Ja’-nima’, some already stranded as the water falls.” He was looking all around. He glanced up. “Kinich Ahau is just two hands above the mountains and we are fatigued. We’ll find a place to spend the night. I will then search for the overturned canoe. It is important for the trade of my people and we have lost many. I do not wish to lose another.” He placed the töt to his mouth and gave a long blow, sending the sound across the Ja’-nima’, calling in the other canoes. “As Kinich Ahau enters the Underworld, we will light a fire at our camp. Let’s look for a camp site, Chiac. Make sure it is on the inside curve of the nim-ja’.”
It was not long before we found one. It wasn’t much of a camp site, just a bit of mud jotting out from the jungle, but the approach was clear of debris, as far as we could see, and since it was on the inside curve of a meander, the water was shallower and the current less swift. We beached the canoe and immediately started to clean an area large enough to accommodate all of us for the night.
None of the other canoes had reached us as yet. Those that had been upstream from us were crossing the nim-ja’ almost diagonally to reach us, but those who were already downstream were having more difficulty as they were facing the current. Slowly, however, all seven of them approached and eventually were beached just as Kinich was disappearing behind the mountains. As my Warriors stepped on the bank, I nodded to them. I wanted to embrace them, but thought Eztli might take this as a sign of weakness. It was Teul’s canoe that was missing. Taat was in that canoe and there would be no more searching as night was setting in. I felt that I wanted to sink into the mud.
Even in the wet conditions, Eztli’s men soon got a roaring fire going. We were glad for that as chan-koxols and batlaas were plentiful and vicious, even though we had once more covered our bodies with mud. Peeniwali were also plentiful, but that night their glows offered no lightheartedness to the darkness. Iztali, Huehue, Mazatl, Ikan, and Chicahua each took their sk’ops and went off into the jungle to look for anything they could shoot for food. I was sitting around the fire and Eztli came and sat beside me.
“When Kinich Ahau returns to U Wach Ulew, we start for Quiriguá. I will spread out the canoes to cover the whole surface of the Ja’-nima’. We will search the waters and the trees for the canoe and for your Warriors. The Ja’-nima’ is falling fast. There will be no danger.” I nodded. He looked at me and he smiled. This was the first time I saw Eztli smile. “You are different from us, Chiac, but I like you.” He got up and moved to the bankside, where he stood staring at the Ja’-nima’ and the beautiful sunset in the west. I got up and walked over to stand beside him.
“The sky is red and orange but there are areas of dark orange, red orange, and even a little yellow. Kinich Ahau leaves me puzzled.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Red is energy. It also means war, danger, strength, and power. It can also mean passion, love, and the desire to chakuj tutuchci. Dark orange is not good. It can mean deceit and distrust. Yellow brings joy and happiness. Pure orange combines the energy of red and the happiness of yellow. It brings joy. But there is dark red and that can bring rage, anger, malice, and wrath.” He shook his head. “And there is red-orange. It can bring domination and aggression. It is not good for the sky to be so perplexing.”
I gazed at the distant sunset. “I have never seen so much in a sunset,” I admitted. He said nothing. “How is it you know so much about being a Warrior?”
He smiled, sadly. “My taat, Xichipepe, taught me everything I know. I am from a village, but that does not make me ignorant.”
The arrogance again. “I did not mean to suggest that.”
He shrugged his shoulders and seem to relax. “Xichipepe was Ukab Nacon of Ajawal K’awiil Yopaat of Quiriguá. He served for many years then returned home to our village as Nimalaj Achi. He trained all the young men of our village.”
“Did your village have a name? I know I have asked that before.”
“There are many villages like ours along the Ja’-nima’, all of us under the authority of Quiriguá. We were just ‘a small village on the Ja’-nima’’. We did have a name, an unimportant name, but now the village is gone; so is the name.”
“I will ask you a personal question.”
“You ask many questions?”
I smiled. “Yes, I do. Why are you so arrogant?”
He frowned, but remained relaxed. “I am Nabe Ajch’o’j and will soon be Nimalaj Achi. I must show strength. Am I not also to show strength before the great T’oit’ik-jolom, Fuck?”
I stared at the young Warrior before me. “How do you know who I am?
“Even in our village, Chiac, stories are told around the fire at night about the great T’oit’ik-jolom called Fuck who comes from far away, how your strategy helped Ajawinel K’an II defeat K’uxaj, Ajawinel of Maxam. Boys say they are you when they play pitz. Of course, we don’t have a ballcourt; we just put a ring on a tree. When you arrived, it was dark. When Kinich Ahau returned to us, I saw that you were taller than us, that Kinich Ahau reflected in your hair, and that you wear the Raax Ch’ayom Puag218 that sometimes glows. Stories are also spoken of those things, Chiac.”
We were quiet for a while then I asked, “Could you tell me about Quiriguá? Everything you know, including its importance and its trade. I should know what I will meet.” He began and as I listened, my respect for the young Warrior grew immensely. He spoke at length, providing me with a great deal of information, not only about Quiriguá, but also of the surrounding kingdoms.
Later, as the hunters returned, there was some commotion in our camp and he turned to go. “Thank you, Eztli. One day, you will make a great Warrior and a great Nimalaj Achi,” I said.
“I will,” he answered, walking towards the Warriors. “I will because you will train me.” I stared at the young Warrior once more then followed him, not sure what he meant.
On walking back into camp, to my amazement and relief, I saw that the hunters had brought back meat. There were two ixbachs,219 three ah-cox, one kuts,220 several o’ons,221 and two kitams.222 As we cleaned and smoked the meats, the Warriors relaxed. There was no clean water, but there was meat. There was no Taat, no Teul, no Chimalli, no Yoloxochitl, no Nochehuatl, no Momoztli, no Zolin, no Iuitl; but there was meat.
Yes! We relaxed because we were Warriors. We had to put aside the fact that Teul, Taat, and the other Warriors were missing. We had to keep our mission foremost in our minds. We had to eat.
Sisimito III--Topoxte Page 14