Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

whispering, kissing and whispering secrets. All night long. I don’t tire.”
Don Elijio looked so happy out in the forest that day, I wished we could
stay there forever. As we resumed our journey downward, the heady,
delicious aroma of humus enveloped us. Don Elijio stopped for a moment
to adjust the straps around his brow. “When I was young I could spend the
whole night in the forest,” he said. “Would you have that courage?”
“No,” I said right away. “At night the forest belongs to creatures like
snakes and jaguars.”
“What if we were to become creatures?” he asked. “I’ve never been
tempted to become a jaguar, but, Rosita, I would if you and I could make a
nest together in the forest.”
I laughed and told him I was honored by the offer but I didn’t want to be
a jaguar any more than he did.
“Well, anytime you’re ready I can pull that old prayer out of my head in
a minute,” he said, teasing me. We continued happily down the slope.
It was a few minutes later that we first began to smell the acrid, black
smoke. The sky above the trees, once azure and white, was now ominously
gray. Just ahead, our little footpath was blocked by flames licking their way
hungrily into the forest.
We stopped in unison, shocked to see the abrupt change. Don Elijio
cleared a side path that skirted around the advancing flames and motioned
for me to follow him. I did as I was told, confident that he would lead me
through the forest safely.
We made it down the hill, only to see that the field on the other side of
the road was engulfed in flames. On the edge of the field, high swords of
fire were consuming the cohune palms, fed by their abundant oil.
Farmers were burning their fields to reap the benefit of wood ash for
fertilizer and to rid the soil of agricultural predators. But the milpa fires,
intended to prepare the fields for crops of corn, beans, and pumpkins, were
out of control.
“This fool has not made a firebreak,” yelled Don Elijio. “No! No! This
kind of farmer cares only for himself and damn his neighbor, the plants, and
the creatures. They only fool themselves. Nature will make them pay for
this cruel treatment. Soon, Rosita, there will be no place left for me to
harvest God’s medicines to heal his children.
“I’ve lived too long, that’s what’s wrong,” he continued, standing agape
at the sight before us. “I’ve lived beyond the plants and the forest and