Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

Doña Juana held the lantern overhead. Josefina positioned herself
directly in front of Don Elijio’s face. She blushed and giggled. He braced
himself and said something in Mayan that made the women laugh, and then
the streams of milk shot forth one by one into his waiting eyes. He blinked,
giggled, and blinked again. The children squealed in delight.
“More,” demanded Doña Juana, and Josefina obeyed with two more
squeezes that also found their mark. “Hmmmm, feels very warm and
soothing,” commented Doña Juana’s patient.
Milk streamed down Don Elijio’s face as he turned to me with an
impish smile. I wiped the droplets off his cheeks.
At last they all left with a hundred words of gratitude. Each woman paid
him what she could and called on God to grant him a long life. Don Elijio
had no set fee for his services, but most patients paid between five and fifty
dollars. Some could only pay with a thank-you, which Don Elijio said was
more valuable than money because it was a direct blessing from God.
Doña Juana and I made a date to go out and look for the Cancer Herb
the next morning right after sunbreak.
Later, as we swung in our hammocks discussing the day through the
cotton curtain, he warned me not to pick the Cancer Herb until sun had
risen and the dew had dried off the leaves.
“The plant’s healing power is still down in the roots until the sun calls it
up to the stem and leaves,” he explained.
“Then would you better collect roots in the early morning rather than in
the full sun of the day?” I reasoned.
“Yes, girl, that is why we leave home so early to dig the roots and only
collect the Xiv on the way home after the sun has risen high in the sky and
dried off all the dew. To everything there is logic. All of this is in my head. I
never went to school, can’t even sign my name, but still my head is full.”