Long life to Mexico, you bastards!

Hola to all, all the way from Chiapas, Mexico! I have crossed the border from Guatemala into Mexico and received two more stamps on my passport - I so love when they do this! However, my trip across the border was quite frustrating and to recap all of my troubles in just a few sentences let me just say I left Antigua at 4 am and got into San Cristobal de las Casas around 7 pm. What was supposed to be an 11 hour trip turned into about 16 by the time I got into a hostal. It was a really long day with lots of bus changes and border issues and buses leaving me and then having to find random rides twice. Oh my goodness, I was so tired and mentally exhausted in using my Spanish. But I made it. And all the hassle was definitely worth what I got to experience today.

Meet Cesar. Amazing fellow and my personal tour guide to two Mayan villages: San Juan Chamula and Zincantan.


San Juan Chamula and Zincantan are two indigenous Maya villages very similar to the ones I will be working with in Guatemala. For those of you who are familiar with the Zapatista uprising/protest that took place in San Cristobal in 1994 against NAFTA (North America Free Trade Agreement), Zincantan was one of a few villages who participated and fought for indigenous land rights. I was extremely excited to visit this village because there are many similarities between the Zapatista Movement and the indigenous land rights movement in Guatemala. While I could write for hours about everything I learned today, there are three things that stick out in my mind the most: (1) Poverty is relative, (2) The conquest isn´t over, and (3) My spirit is lost.

Poverty is relative. Many people look at the way indigenous Maya live and automatically assume their lives are miserable without modern conveniences like hot water, cable, and electricity - things we take for granted every day. But in fact, they are probably the happiest and richest people I have ever come to know. What is most important to understand is that those who live this very simple lifestyle choose to do so of their own free will. They like it and although from pictures it looks (and is) poor by American standards, what is rich here isn´t measured by wealth or material belongings. And I envy that. They work to live. America lives to work. I really think we all could take a lesson in life from these wonderful people.




The conquest isn´t over. In the time spent in San Juan Chamula, I had a very interesting conversation with Cesar about how indigenous culture has thrived despite hundreds of years of attempts to destroy it. When we talked about the Conquest he made the comment that it wasn´t over, that it very much still existed, I asked him what he meant. And he pulled out a piece of paper that was being passed around by Christian missionaries.


Mayan religion is misunderstood worldwide, and when I saw this paper (handed out by AMERICANS) I was taken aback. Not only by these missionaries´ complete ignorance, but of their total disrespect as well. I am a firm believer in respecting another´s beliefs and opinions (hence the coexist tattoo) and I have always disliked the practice of knocking on one´s door preaching about the Lord. Cesar put it very well: ¨Mayans are very respectful of other religions. You may be different from us, but we don´t try to change you. We respect you. We would never go to America and knock on your door, telling you to sacrifice a chicken in the church.¨

And finally, today I learned my soul was lost. We visited a shaman healer in Zincantan who was going to perform a ritual in front of us. When I walked into the room, he looked at me funky and then asked if I could be his subject, if you will. He promised it wouldn`t hurt, so I said yes. When I asked him what he was going to do he told our guide in his Mayan language that he could tell just by looking at me that my spirit was lost, that it had left me during some recent, traumatic event in my life. This was quite eery and kind of freaky so much that it sent chills up my spine not only because he was dead on, but because I really hate that he can tell that about me. So, he performed the ritual by starting out checking my pulse. Based on the rhythm of your pulse, whether it be soft or fast, I guess he is able to tell if your soul still resides in your body. He determined mine was lost and then he waved leaves that smelled like basil, blessed the saints and then patted my whole body with the leaves whilst chanting. He then took an egg and rubbed it on my wrists, up and down my body, then on my head, and finally he cracked it into a bowl and read it. What it said, I don`t know. After that, he poured alcohol on my arm and sucked it with his mouth up and down my arm, blessing it with chants. In the end, he kissed my wrists, made the sign of the cross on my forehead, and just left. I feel very odd this afternoon after going through that. It was a neat experience and I wish I had pictures of it (not allowed during ritual ceremonies) but I am really unnerved in many ways. How can he see that about me?

I decided I am going to visit the Mayan Herbal Medicine Center here in San Cristobal tomorrow to have an herbal drink made that is used to help the spirit return to your body. I hope my spirit comes back. For the first time in a really long time, I actually feel like praying. Weird.