Not Believing Can Be Lonely

Riots in London, Gaddafi in hiding, a hurricane in New York and flailing stock markets around the world could make even a thinking person wonder if the end of the world is nigh. Of course, there are some folks who really believe that the world is about to end, often hanging their hats on the purported Maya prophecy that December 21, 2012 represents either doomsday or the dawn of a new era in human consciousness. So which is it? Does 2012 signify destruction or transformation? Or will it just be another winter solstice caught in the clutches of the West's Christmas consumer frenzy?

Fortunately for all of us, Matthew Restall and Amara Solari offer some even-handed analysis of all things 2012 in their recently published book entitled 2012 and the End of the World: The Western Roots of the Maya Apocalypse. Although slim, the six chapters which make up this volume pack a lot of information about the Maya and their calendar, Europeans and their Christianity, and 21st century New Agers and their claims of secret wisdom about the end of the world as we know it.

Indeed, Restall and Solari have woven the topic of 2012 into three distinct, but interrelated, strands: about the Maya, about European Christianity, and about modern (mostly American) attempts at synthesizing the two. As a result, our authors have embroidered a fast-reading explanation of historical events, artistic works and contemporary psychological projections in an attempt "to explain what the 2012 fuss is all about" (5).

The first thread includes a summary of what the Maya said and the ways in which they said it. A helpful, albeit simplistic, explanation of the Maya Long Count calendar (which, in our numbering system, looks like 13.0.0.0.0 and begins on or about August 13, 3114 BC) accompanies this portion, along with a general description of Maya creation mythology. This material overlaps with a few specific locations, including ancient Maya sites at Coba in Mexico, Quirigua in Guatemala and El Tortuguero, also in Mexico.

These three Maya sites are significant for dating purposes because they each contain glyphs with dates that figure prominently in 2012ology. For example, the "oldest date recorded by the Maya" appears at Coba's Stela 1 in the form of a Long Count date consisting of twenty four places. The date is "about a billion years larger than 13.7 billion BC, which is the age that astrophysicists currently assign to the universe" (17). Although some Mayanists, such as Prudence Rice call this "computational virtuosity," Restall and Solari suggest the "Maya elite at Coba may have been demonstrating how the calendar was the formula that could be used to decode time" (17). In short, this glyph may well have been an embellishment by a light-hearted stone carver, which offers us a glimpse into the playful nature of the Late Classic Maya, or it could be pointing us to the realization that “the ancient Maya were accomplished scientists a millennium or two before the West’s scientific revolution even began” (125).

In the case of Quirigua, Guatemala this site contains Stela C, carved in 775 AD. On the east side of Stela C appears the “zero date of the Long Count, 3114 BC” or 13.0.0.0.0. What’s important about this, according to Restall and Solari, is that “the glyphs that inscribe this date exemplify the combined impact of Maya art and calendrics; the conjunction of creativity and knowledge, beauty and intellect” (20). Thus, we are not to read this stela as an ominous portent of the end of time, but as a work of art reflecting the cyclical beauty in the passage of time. Or, as Restall and Solari claim, Stela C exhibits “the end of the cycle as simultaneously the start of the next one” (33). This last idea is key to understanding the Maya and their sense of time. Unlike the linear concept of time embraced by the West, Maya time is one of cycles. Planting season comes and planting season goes, only to return again next year in an ongoing cycle that spirals back into the distant mists of the past and forward into the distant haze of the future. It is ongoing and, importantly, it does not portend an end of the world. Rather, it suggests that the Maya of the 3^rd century BC (about the time when the Long Count calendar was conceived) were imagining “that the world they lived in had been created a few thousand years earlier and dated that creation in order to give the current year a satisfying trio of zeros in a five-place Long Count date. They then structured that count around the number 13, pinning the end of the cycle a couple of thousand years in the future and placing themselves more or less in the middle” (31). This placement in the center of time is relevant, too, because The Center is a paramount concept in Maya social construction of reality. They believed they were at the center of the world. Thus, placing themselves at the center of time is completely consistent with their concepts of who they were in the world in which they lived.

The third location that’s important to the discussion of Maya calendrics is the now-destroyed site of El Tortuguero, Mexico. Indeed it was the razing of the site by the Mexican government in the 1960s which allowed for the discovery of the glyph which refers to the end of the Long Count known as 13.0.0.0.0 or December 21, 2012. El Tortuguero’s Monument 6 was likely carved in the 7^th century AD and contains a dedication for the completion of a new building. It also cites a future date to mark the end of the calendrical cycle. In short, this is the glyph that has raised all the commotion! However, according to Restall and Solari, there is “nothing in the dedicatory texts to suggest the prediction of disaster” (28). It was intended by the Maya as “dedicatory, not prophetic” and “its spirit is arguably the opposite from apocalyptic, invoking longevity and permanence rather than ephemerality and predetermined destruction” (28). So how is it that a dedication monument can fuel End of the World rhetoric as can be found so prolifically on the internet today?

For the answer to that question, we must now turn to the second strand in Restall and Solari’s book, which summarizes medieval European ideas about the Apocalypse and the ways in which those ideas traveled to the New World in the 16th century. To do so, our authors have named the chapter outlining European Judeo-Christian apocalyptic ideas as “God is Angry.” Claiming that “Western civilization is the millenarian mother lode,” Restall and Solari make the case that Judeo-Christian concepts of the end of the world were born in Mesopotamia, fostered in medieval Europe and then transported to the Americas with the help of the Franciscan friars and the Spanish Conquistadors in the 16^th century. What follows is an explanation of the interactions and the impositions between the indigenous Maya and their Aztec neighbors with the Europeans they encountered, including a few pages of detailing the impact of Diego de Landa, the priest who notoriously burned most of the Maya texts. Importantly, Restall and Solari suggest that “the Franciscans [were] keen to maintain their vision of the New World as an opportunity to create on earth a version of the ‘New Jerusalem’ described in the Book of Revelation. As a result, the history of the Conquest of Mexico was revised and reimagined, and the [indigenous] culture infused with the Franciscans’ millenarian spirit” (89). Thus the Judeo-Christian tendency to see crisis as evidence for the end of the world was transported and then imposed upon the Maya and others in the New World. What’s more, that tendency has embedded itself into the consciousness of New World society so perniciously, that “the many threads of eschatology and millenarianism run so deeply and colorfully through Western civilization that the Apocalypse acts today as a common and casual reference point” (117). In other words, millenarianism has become part of contemporary Western psyche.

This understanding, then, helps the reader pivot toward the last point Restall and Solari make which has to do with Western contemporary (and often incorrect) interpretations of Maya writings and thought, and Christian eschatalogical projections based on pseudo-Maya mathematical and scientific conceptions of the world. Accordingly, it doesn’t take a Jungian scholar to realize that the modern impulse to exoticize all things Maya is based on deeply embedded ideas in the Western tradition. According to Restall and Solari, “belief offers an explanation without need for evidence. It offers a simple solution to life’s complexities, a source of meaning and hope in a world of cruel whimsy and chaos” (115) and “not believing can be lonely” (116). Although our authors are a bit more diplomatic than this, in short they are suggesting that believing in the end of the world – whether it’s about destruction or transformation – is fantasy for the intellectually lazy and the emotionally insecure. There is no basis in Maya calendrics for believing in the end of the world. Neither is there evidence in what little bits of Maya writing escaped Landa’s flames. Rather, “the 2012 phenomenon is not ultimately about the year 2012, or about the Maya. It is about the apocalyptic impulse that lies deep within our civilization” (131).

Thus, what makes 2012 and the End of the World: The Western Roots of the Maya Apocalypse valuable is the way in which Restall and Solari explore this particular piece of popular culture. Although fast-paced, this slim volume challenges the reader to a greater understanding of the beauty of the Maya, but also to the intellectually shallow, albeit titillating, notions of the end of the world. Although not believing might be lonely, it is more intellectually honest.

Coba Stela 1 photo by Maureen Moore 9 July 2011

It's Over!

After five weeks (four in Mexico and one in Belize) traipsing around in rainforests, I flew back to the States. Happily I was greeted at the airport by two of the most beautiful people on the planet who came bearing a bagful of Thai food takeout along with their smiles of greeting.

The trip was a National Endowment for the Humanities Fellowship Institute which was focused on studying the Maya. This means that 24 university and college faculty from across the country were drawn together for an intensive study. We were given a bibliography of texts prior to departure, some of which I read on the road and some that I am still plowing through now that I am back home. We had site visits at important Maya archaeological sites (Palenque, Chichen Itza, Uxmal, Bonampak), and we visited some fairly obscure locations as well (Hochob, Cahal Pech, Sayil). During the Institute, we were introduced to archaeologists, art historians, epigraphers and other scholars in the field of Maya Studies who presented seminar and field study lectures.

As it was originally planned, we were to have visited Guatemala (in particular Tikal), but recent violence in the Flores region of Guatemala caused the U.S. State Department to issue a travel restriction for the region. And, since we were operating as "consultants" for the U.S. State Department, we were required to heed that travel restriction. Thus, a few days in Belize was substituted for the time we should have spent in Guatemala. If I was disappointed by this change in itinerary, I was also relieved.

All in all, the Institute was an awesome experience. The people of southern Mexico and Belize are hard working, friendly, cheerful in the face of poverty, and dignified in the face of global pressures they cannot control. I am humbled by the ways in which they conduct their lives, and I hope that I was a respectful ambassador between their world and ours.

A Magical Night in Merida

After nearly five weeks tromping around in the rainforests of Mexico and Belize, we have finally come to a real city. Merida is the capital of the state of Yucatan, and with over 1 million population, is a bustling old colonial town on the northwest edge of the Yucatan peninsula.

After checking into our hotel this afternoon, I cleaned up and then rested long enough to let the heat of the day pass. By about 7:00pm I was in need of some dinner and so headed out into the street with my map and an appetite.

The streets of Merida are narrow and paved with cobblestones. Most of the buildings are two and three story with oversize colonial style windows and doors. Ornate scroll metalwork often flanks doorways and the houses sparkle blue, green, yellow and pink. It's a lovely city.

I turned right off Calle 57 onto Calle 60. Lots of people were walking about and music floated by on the light breeze. I came to a small plaza adjacent to a small cathedral where workmen were setting up a stage. It looked like a street concert was in the making. Across the narrow cobbled street from the stage was a lovely old colonial buildings with several small balconies hanging over the sidewalk. It was a restaurant. A man was setting up tables and immediately he started talking to me in both Spanish and English. Although the restaurant was not yet open, he showed me into a courtyard with a blue tiled mosaic fountain and explained that the building dated back to the 18th century. He said that at 8:30pm the street in front of the restaurant would be closed off to vehicle traffic and people would begin dancing in the street.

I told him I would return when the restaurant opened and headed off down the street to see what else I could find. Within a couple blocks another plaza opened up with lots of vendors and little Maya girls hawking hand made jewelry. Music played from each of the cardinal directions and buskers worked the crowd in clown costumes. I walked around, pausing to listen and watch the sights and sounds. A Maya woman was selling herbal remedies and I talked with her at length about the ingredients in each of her concoctions. She had something for arthritis, hemorrhoids, flaky skin and asthma. I almost bought the asthma brew but decided against it at the last minute. Some of her remedies contained tobacco and she proudly displayed a tobacco plant along with her bottles of potion. I didn't want to go down that road.

After leaving the plaza I headed back down Calle 60 until I found a cement bench parallel with the sidewalk. It was people watching time. I must have sat there for about 30 minutes watching the beautiful youth, the gentile middle class and the gringo tourists pass by.

Many people greeted me on the street and several Maya girls asked if I wanted to buy a bolsa. No gracias. Pretty soon it was time to go to dinner. When I made it back to the restaurant the four piece band had started playing on the stage across the street. I planted myself at a table on one of the overhanging balconies and ordered eggplant parmesan. When in Merida, order something you haven't eaten in a long time. The food arrived and it was excellent. The music played and pedestrians swirled around the tables and chairs, tracing colorful patterns with their bodies. Children toddled with ice cream cones in their hands and lovers held each other in the calle. Some fireworks erupted in the night sky behind the cathedral. Could the evening be any more perfect than this? Yes. Porque mi espouso esta en Estados Unidos y el was not sitting on that lovely balcony with me.

It was a magical night in Merida but I am missing David.

The Vendors of Chichen Itza

Today we spent a full day site visit at Chichen Itza. Located adjacent to the pueblo of Piste, Chichen Itza sees over 3 million tourists each year. The people who service the tourists are primarily the Maya who live in Piste.

Each morning the vendors load all of their goods onto a bike (if they have one), or a truck (if they can afford to pay for one), or their back (if that's the only option) in order to make the trek to Chichen. Once they arrive it takes about an hour for them to unpack all of their sale goods. They often work in family teams so it's not unusual to see young boys and girls helping their parents or older siblings unwrap the day's wares.

Setting up in the morning

During the peak of the day (note the young man in the green shirt in both photos)

A family group setting up (note the boy in the yellow shirt; he is about 10 years old)

Once set up, they wait for the tourists. Sometimes they work the crowd, calling out to passersby: "Barrato" which means cheap or "only one dollar" which usually ends up being more like ten dollars. Toward the end of the day, I heard one young man say in English "Cheaper than at Target." When I laughed and turned around to see his face, he said "Cheaper than Wal-Mart." He was laughing too. Clearly that's a young man who has been to the States at least once. Politicians often call him "illegal." I would call him "in search of an opportunity." Either way, he's working hard to make a living.

Waiting and watching

Although many of the items the Pistenos are selling are made somewhere else (which means the Maya are once again being commodified in a giant capitalistic game they can never win), some of the families actually produce their own goods for sale.

Take the case of Hiram. He makes wood carvings and tie-dye   t-shirts in the evenings after coming to Chichen and working his booth during the day. He also speaks, to varying degrees, eight languages which he has taught himself out of neccessity. When I spoke with him, he was friendly and open. He talked about how his t-shirts were still wet from last night's dying. He also shared the carving and staining techniques used on his wood carvings. The sculpture he is holding took him two days to carve and paint. I bought it off of him for $16 US. Hiram had a prosthetic leg, which can't make his life easier. I hope he made a killing off the tourists today.

Some of the men spend their time at the booth carving. Others nap or rest in the shade.

A woman napping

Hiram

Juan

Reality

One of our seminar leaders brought his son with him on the site visit today. The boy's name is Rafael. The juxtaposition of Rafael playing with his cell phone (age 7) seated next to the two little Maya girls (who look about age 7) resting in the shade during a hard day selling handkerchiefs was too poignant to resist. The location of one's birth determines so much about their lives. This is the story of the contemporary Maya. If these little girls desire to change the pre-determined course that's been set for their lives, they have a lonely and uphill battle against global forces. It's more likely that their lives will be similar to that of the woman's who is napping in the photo above.

Around 5:00pm, most of the crowds were gone and wardens for the park came running through on motorcycles, blowing a whistle and waving people to leave. It was time to pack up and head home. Another day at Chichen was over for the Maya of Piste.

Big man closing up shop

Tulum: Disneyland Style

This morning our site visit was to Tulum, which is one of the last Maya sites to be inhabited. Evidence suggests that Tulum was abandoned in the late 16th century, after the Spanish had invaded the region. Indeed, one Spanish chronicler claimed, when he saw it in 1518, that it was as big as the city of Seville.
 
What makes Tulum of interest, besides its late inhabitation, is the location. Perched on top of a hill overlooking the Caribbean Sea, it is a rare and well preserved coastal city.

Sadly, Tulum and the modern Maya of this region have been introduced to global forces that have placed extraordinary pressures on them and their sacred sites. Since the 1970s, the Mexican government has been working hard to develop the eastern Yucatan into one of the top tourist destinations in the country. Tulum, because it is a short bus ride from Cancun, has become one of the most frequented sacred sites in all of Mexico. Of course the financial benefits for this development have not flowed directly to the Maya. Rather, the Maya are exploited and marginalized even as their heritage is commodified and commercialized.

Thus our academic site visit to Tulum was overwhelmed by crass free market capitalism. First the tourists are herded through a corridor of cheap trinkets and psuedo-Maya made-in-China tapestries before reaching the site. Lots of the images are not even related to the Maya. At one point, a hawker tried to sell me a table cloth by proudly pointing out that the design on it was an Aztec calendar. Aztec, as in central Mexico.

It's very sad really. But that's not all. The grounds of Tulum are manicured like a golf course in California and workers were weed whacking as though their lives depended on it. In short it was a far cry from the sacred site that the Maya intended when they built and inhabited it.

Importantly, research at Tulum is beginning to crystallize around the awareness that the leadership structure here was significantly different than leadership structure in the rest of the Mundo Maya. At all the other Maya sites, whether in Guatemala at Tikal or at Palenque in Chiapas, Mexico or Carocal in Belize the leadership structure was focused on one ahau (ruler) who claimed power in the fashion of the divine right kings of Europe. Think Louis XIV of  France in the 17th century and the absolute power he held by claiming himself Apollo the Sun God. That's the same kind of political rulership the ahaus of the Maya world established. It was an inherited position, and contesting it required warfare and bloodshed. Interestingly, not only does the ahau glyph represent a king, but it also represents a date in one of the Maya calendar systems. Thus kingship is equated with time and is justified through religious power in the ancient Maya mind.  

An ahau glyph variation

Therefore as research at Tulum has progressed, scholars have been surprised to realize that power was not quite as centralized in this kingdom as it was in most of the rest of the Maya world. Rather, power at Tulum seems to have been shared among brothers (possibly) or some kind of council. Some academics have suggested it was a multepal form of government whereby power was held by an oligarchy. Although this theory to explain political power at Tulum is not entirely established, it is the most current explanation for the political structure.

If Tulum was ruled by a multepal, then the architecture would be correspondingly different, too, in order to accomodate more than one ruler simultaneously. There is evidence for this in the archaeological work that has been done at the site but much more needs to be done.

What's unlikely is that the masses of tourists who trundle through Tulum for a brief afternoon respite from the beaches of Cancun realize the unique political constructions which were embodied in the architecture and art at the site.

Cenote at Coba

After seminar this morning, a small group of us went to a cenote across the lake from our hotel. The cenote (pronounced see no tay) is an underground cave with water in it, which the Yucatec Maya called dzonot or ts'onot meaning "well". In ancient times, and even today, the Maya used cenotes for water storage but also for sacred purposes. Sometimes sacred rituals would be performed in or around the cenote, during which the Maya would make offerings of exotic items such as precious jades, obsidian flints and, occasionally, human sacrifices.

It's likely that the rituals associated with cenotes evolved because of Maya beliefs about the Underworld. Essentially the Maya believe that caves serve as entrances to this other realm, which symbolizes the cycle of life, death and rebirth. Thus the cenote opening is a natural icon in Maya sculpture, architecture and painting.

But there is a practical side as well, for cenotes are important to the Maya for water storage because there aren't any rivers and very few lakes in this region. Most of the soil is porous limestone, so water collection is a precious activity for survival. As a result, many of the Maya temple sites in the Yucatan are located adjacent to these cenotes. Coba, where we are, is no exception.

The cenote we went to was massive and deep, requiring us to take wooden steps from the surface into the cave. Our journey into the Underworld began at this modest thatched roof well-like structure. The man who took our 45 pesos per person ($4.50 US) said that there were 88 steps down to the platform at the bottom. 

 There was also this sign, cautioning us to download the steps. Since I did not have my computer with me at the time, I found these instructions somewhat challenging to heed.

 Once we downloaded the steps, we arrived at a large wooden platform fashioned like a boat dock jutting out over the water. There was one small hole at the top of the cave ceiling, and lots of stalactites hanging down in various lengths. Someone was burning copal, which is ancient incense for Maya rituals.

After cautiously apprising the situation, I decided I didn't want to miss this opportunity so I got in. The water was very clear and very deep. It was also somewhat cool, but refreshing to the skin. I floated on my back for a long time, just staring at the contours of the limestone ceiling above. There were shapes and designs in the rock, and water seeped through and showered down occasionally on the upturned face. The limestone rock acts as a natural filter for the water which is why it is so clean.

After floating and swimming for about an hour, we all got out of the water. Walking back up the 88 wooden steps, I realized how peaceful and relaxed I felt. It was a spiritual experience going into the Underworld, and once again I am amazed at the beauty and wisdom of the Maya.

My photos inside don't really do justice to the place but here they are.

The platform and entrance to the 88 steps

A blurry shot of the cenote wall

A stalactite on the ceiling

The Village of Coba

Yesterday we left Uxmal and headed east toward the coast. Near the ancient site of Coba, we stopped at a little village by the same name. We will be here for five nights.

This morning after seminar I went for a walk into the village. Adjacent to our hotel is a lake, which I think is called Lago Coba. Of course we were discouraged by the locals from swimming in it due to the crocodile sightings. I'll take their advice.



A little further down the road, I came to the main section of the village. Really, there is just one paved road and several unpaved side roads. A couple of tourist shops line the main road, and women wearing traditional huipils walk carrying babies and baskets.

The 2010 census claims there are about 1200 people living here. Most of them are Maya.

After walking along the main road for a while, I turned off onto one of the unpaved side streets. Mangy dogs and baby chickens greeted me in the road. The houses are quite modest. While passing a school, some girls called out "Hola!" and then giggled. I greeted them with a wave, a giggle and an hola of my own.

The road was slippery because it's been raining, warm rain, since we arrived last night. I peered into a well adjacent to a house. The well was square and had a wooden ladder set down into it. At the bottom of the well was a purple toy baby stroller laying on its side. The plastic casing juxtaposed oddly against the grey stones.

Another mangy dog barked at me and I headed back to the main road where I stopped in at a fruit stand. White onions, green bell peppers, papayas, grapes, pears, two kinds of bananas and apples imported from the USA all greeted me. I bought a bunch of grapes and bananas and one apple. It cost the equivalent of $2.65 US. The girl at the counter was pretty and shy. She laughed when I fumbled with the coins, holding them closely to my eyes to inspect each denomination.

Walking back to the hotel, it started to drizzle again. It's a simple life in the village of Coba.



The Dwarf of Uxmal: A Maya Myth

After seminar this morning, I took a walk into Campeche for a last day of checking out the city before we leave in the morning. Along the way, I discovered a cool little shop with books and other assorted goodies. I picked up two books, including one containing several Maya legends. Because our site visit tomorrow will include Uxmal, here is a rendition of the story of the Dwarf of Uxmal:

The elders of the village of Nohpat tell of an old lady -- a sorceress and an herbalist -- who knew the mysteries of the skies and the cures to every illness. Although she was very old, she desired to have a son so one day she went to a secret place to pick up a special egg, which she nurtured until it hatched a baby boy. When the child spoke, the old lady was surprised for he had the body of a child but the wisdom of an old man.

Over the years, the boy grew in wisdom but not in size. He was a dwarf but his wisdom was immense. Among other things, he was very observant and he noticed that the old lady never moved very far from the three hearthstones in the thatch-roofed house that they shared. One day when the old woman was not looking, the dwarf reached into the ashes of the fire to find out what the grandmother guarded. There he found a tunk'ul, a wooden drum with a special design on it. He began banging the drum, pounding so loudly that the sound was heard far away by many people.

a tunk'ul
 at the Fort of San Miguel Museum in Campeche

Immediately the sorceress returned. She was very angry, and she explained to the dwarf that what he had done would change destiny for everyone. Now terrible events would occur and he would be caught in the middle of them.

Even as the grandmother was telling the dwarf about the consequences of his actions, the sound of the drum was reaching the king's grand stone palace. You see, the king was gripped with great fear at the pounding of the drum as a prophecy in the land stated that this sound would precede the end of his rule. The king and his advisors decided to find the person who was responsible for playing the tunk'ul, and to see if he was really the one who would succeed the king on the throne. Thus, the king's guards came to the village of Nohpat, found the dwarf and took him to the palace.

When the dwarf came before the king, he was asked to prove his wisdom since only a wise person can become king. The king asked many questions. The dwarf answered them all. But the king was not satisfied and so he decided upon a final test: this would consist in breaking a cocoyol nut with a hammer on the head of the dwarf. The dwarf agreed with one condition: the king would have to undergo the same test.

The king's executioner placed the cocoyol nut on the dwarf's head and struck with all his might. But the dwarf lifted his head with a smile. He had passed the test.

Next came the king's turn. The executioner placed the nut on his royal head and struck with all his might. But this killed the king. Unbeknownst to the king, the dwarf survived because the sorceress had hidden a cap of enchanted copper in his hair.

Thus the dwarf was declared king of Uxmal. On the day of his inauguration, the grandmother told him that she would not live much longer but that now he was king, she could die in peace. She also told him to "Act with justice, and always face the truth. Do not forget it is more important to be good than to be just. Listen to the voice of the gods and follow their counsel, but listen also to the voice of men. Never despise the lowly, and distrust the powerful." These were the grandmother's last words to the dwarf.

For many years the dwarf heeded the old woman's advice and peace and harmony reigned at Uxmal. But over time, the dwarf began to abuse his power. He became a tyrant and cruel to the people.

The gods saw this and became angry. The dwarf had offended them so they punished the city by sacking and burning it. Time passed and the memory of the city was erased by the ashes and the wind.

This is the story of the dwarf who reigned in Uxmal.

An Afternoon at Edzna

Yesterday was an ambitious day. We visited three sites, got caught in a thunder shower and had the bus malfunction. There may be a correlation between the bus engine not running well and the gas we got at the roadside stand, since the two events were about 10 minutes apart.

At any rate, here are photos from one of the sites we visited yesterday. I will write more about it later. Until then, just enjoy the scenery.

Getting Gas in Rural Mexico



The Sign

The Station

The System

Itzamna

Itzamna is one of the gods in the Maya pantheon. Tomorrow we are going to a temple where this god will be depicted in a giant mask that surrounds the entrance to the building, which is called the House of the Serpent Mouth.

Along with its depiction in sculpture, Itzamna is also a song by Ruben Alvarez. Here are the lyrics in Espanol:

ITZAMNÁ

Descendió sobre un fuego letal
al caer, nuestro pueblo lo halló
corazón de poder inmortal
Señor de los Cielos y el Sol

Hijo del Gran Creador
Nuestro Dios, nuestro guía
hacia el cielo templos se alzan en su honor
Todo nos lo enseñó
el respeto a la vida
armonía sobre las pasiones

Caminó como un mero mortal
susurró y se hizo su voluntad
combatió contra la enfermedad
Señor de los Cielos y el Sol

No quisimos crecer
una noche su partida nos dejó
huérfanos de su sabiduría
Señor de los Cielos y el Sol

Itzamná regresará
nuestro futuro está escrito en piedra
siente el pulso celestial
un nuevo día aguarda tras el despertar

 

Itzamna also appears to be a medical center in New York, which seeks "to provide world-class, culturally sensitive healthcare services to New York City’s growing Latino community."

 

Clearly the use of the name is popular and has significant meaning, including as healer and as a figure known to some in popular music.



A Long Bus Ride and Then Chetumal

We have been going at a furious pace the entire week so I have not had time to write anything about the temple ruins we have seen. But I will back fill our activities in Chiapas later. There is much to say and many pictures to show but I want to do it well rather than hastily.

This morning we got up early and left the earthy town of Palenque, Chiapas by bus. The trip was long, sometimes bumpy and punctuated by potholes and police checkpoints. At one stop, the police made Carlos our driver open the hold below the bus so that dogs could sniff our luggage. Mine was conveniently selected and the canine drug sniffer caught a whiff of my malaria meds, which caused a bit of a stir among the cops. But our ever helpful fixer, Alphonso, fixed everything and we were once again on our way. When I retrieved my luggage later I noticed they neglected to zip one of the pockets. Alas, these neglections are the bread crumb traces of power in Mexico.

Almost immediately after leaving Chiapas state the terrain changes dramatically. The jungle hills flatten out to marshy croplands. In some places in this state of Campeche the roads are pretty well maintained, with pedestrian overpasses and tidy little schools. In other places the poverty is apparent. Everywhere there are very young children and lots of dogs. Everyone seems to have a dog in this part of Mexico.

Some time in the late afternoon we rolled into Chetumal, a large city on the Atlantic side of Mexico's Yucatan peninsula. It's a fairly wealthy city with an easy affluence that we did not see at all in the Maya regions of Chiapas. Car dealerships, shoe stores and knick knack shops serve as markers for the middle class. The word Chetumal means "place of the red wood" in modern Maya, but the only wood I saw was some face carvings in a tourist shop down the street from our hotel.

After a light dinner of soup and bread in the hotel restaurant, I walked with one of my colleagues down the main street of town. It looked like it had recently rained today because lots of the sidewalks were wet and puddles filled the streets. Loud music blared out from many of the shops and vendors selling belt buckles and earrings crowded the sidewalks. There are lots of passers by, young and old, men and women. It's a town with a good vibe.

The main street ends at Chetumal Bay, which faces east toward the Atlantic Ocean. A nice breeze played along the promenade and locals jogged alone in the easy twilight, or walked together hand in hand. Once the sun set the sky turned blood red and streaked palm tree silouhettes across the west side of the bay. Of course I did not have my camera so all I could do was enjoy the moment. Ah, Chetumal.

Moon Landing Over Villahermosa

The flight out of Houston was remarkably smooth. The little prop job we rode in tonight sounded a lot like a small lawn mower, which was faintly reminiscent of the plane ride I took in Brasil in 2009. The similarities between the two flights, however, end there.

As our flight this evening began to descend toward the city of Villahermosa, the almost full moon glowed in the sky. Lights twinkled on the ground below. When we passed over a marshy area, the moon was reflected in the water below. It was a lovely moon landing over Villahermosa.

And, as soon as I walked onto the tarmac, the smell of Mexico came rushing back to me like an old friend. I love this smell! It's of rain and heat and spice. If it's possible, and even though I have never been to this part of Mexico before, it feels like coming home.

Remember the Memory They No Longer Have

On March 28, 2011 a 24 year old man named Juan Francisco Silicia was killed in Mexico's Drug War. In the 5 years since the Calderon government in Mexico began the Drug War, nearly 40,000 people have been killed as, in the terminology of the government, collateral damage.

Juan Francisco could have been just one more young person cut off in the prime of his life and forgotten to history except for this: his father is a well known poet in Mexico by the name of Javier Silicia.

Poets love words and the power words give. Although typically this is no different with Javier Silicia, since the death of his son, whom he called Juanelo, "poetry doesn't exist in my anymore." So, he has decided to use his words in a campaign to remember the dead and to give power to the living, as he said at the funeral:

The world is not worthy of words

they have been suffocated from the inside

as they suffocated you, as they tore apart your lungs …

the pain does not leave me

all that remains is a world

through the silence of the righteous,

only through your silence and my silence, Juanelo.

 Thus he has called for a series of protests since the death of his son. Across Mexico over 40 cities have participated in silent marches they are calling "We Have Had It" protests. And, perhaps even more poignantly, people across Mexico are being called on to remember those who have died in the Drug War by placing name plaques in prominant locations throughout the country's public squares. In an interview, Silicia says that putting up the plaques with the names of the people who have died innocently is a way to "remember the memory they no longer have."

In another interview, Silicia says “What unites us is the heart to return the dream to this nation. At the heart of it, everything depends on whether we keep loving the poetic word, listening to the heart, to the deep human within, listening to what life is, and forget about the ideological differences or that political differences or those between the political parties. The human being and the human heart have to be the reference point, no matter where it comes from.”

Recently, Silicia has started a new front to the protests: a peace tour from Morelos to Cuidad Juarez. Since this is considered by many to be the most dangerous city in the world right now, perhaps the poetry of words that Silicia has lost has been transformed into the poetry of action. And perhaps this is what happens when one loses love and thus begins "listening to what life is."

In the Place of Burnt Fields: Spotlighting Indigenous Human Rights Efforts

Across Mexico today there are three groups who are gripped in a death dance with each other. In some ways, it's really just a list of the usual suspects: the Mexican military at the behest of the government and the narco terrorists who, mostly, were formed as paramilitaries at the behest of the government during the reign of the PRI.

The third group is comprised of indigenous Indians from various regions across Mexico who have been negatively impacted by outside powers for the past 500 years. As a result, their steps in the death dance are more interesting and complex than the other two.

One organization who supports indigenous groups has been profiled in an article by Kerry Kennedy of the Robert F. Kennedy Center for Human Rights (RFKCHR). The organization -- Tlachinollan Center for Human Rights -- has been trying to bring international attention to the indigenous people of Ayutla de los Libres who have experienced repression by the police and military.

For those of you who are lucky enough to be fluent in Spanish, here's a link to their website.

Furthermore the founder of the Tlachinollan Center for Human Rights, Abel Barrera Hernandez has recently been granted an award by an American organization for his work. According to the RFKCHR, "Mr. Barrera and his colleagues work under constant threat to protect the rights of peasants and indigenous peoples against forced disappearances, rape, arbitrary detentions, intimidation, dispossession of lands and illegal interrogations, and to improve their access to healthcare, legal representation and education. 'Justice for the indigenous peoples of the Mexican mountains does not exist; it must be won inch by inch and confronting grave dangers. Those that seek a better life and organize to realize their human rights are sought out and assassinated,' said Abel Barrera Hernández. 'The award that we are presented today by the RFK Center for Justice & Human Rights comes to refresh our dreams.'"

And, in a really good 5 minute video Abel Barrera Hernandez explains what the people of Ayutla de los Libres want: dignity and equality.

Maya World Here I Come!

Several months ago I applied for a fellowship to study the Maya of Mexico, Guatemala and Belize. The objectives of the project include visiting Maya temples and archaeological sites, as well as attending seminars hosted by scholars in the field. Happily, I was accepted and have been making plans for departure, which will be next week.

Unhappily, since I received the acceptance letter, drug cartels from Mexico spilled into the Peten region of Guatemala and beheaded 27 people. As a result of this violence, the U.S. State Department issued a travel advisory to avoid Guatemala. And, thankfully, the people who are organizing the fellowship decided to change some of the itinerary so we will avoid Peten.

Nevertheless, if you are thinking that I am being somewhat vague in my descriptions of people, places and dates you are correct. For security reasons, I have decided to minimize the specifics in my blog entries. Only after I have left certain regions will I be more detailed. I hope you understand! I really want to return to California with my head firmly attached to my shoulders.

Despite these security challenges, we will be studying topics as wide ranging as tourism and its impact on modern Maya today, the Zapatistas and their impact on the Chiapas region of southern Mexico, ancient Maya architecture, the Mayan calendar, and the liminal space between the indigenous of Belize and people of African ancestry who arrived on the east coast of the Yucatan peninsula, originally, as slaves.

All in all, it should be an awesome project and I look forward to sharing it with you. I hope you enjoy the ride!