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Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

by Rosita Arvigo

by Rosita Arvigo

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CHAPTER TWO<br />

Breadnut Ramon Chacox<br />

Brosimum alicastrum<br />

The fruits of the Ramon tree once provided a staple food to the ancient <strong>Maya</strong> and Aztec Indians. The<br />

fruits are boiled and eaten like young potatoes or ground into a cereal-like gruel and sweetened. The<br />

cooked ground nuts combined <strong>with</strong> corn make an excellent, nutritious tortilla and help to stretch the<br />

supply of corn. The flavor of Ramon nuts is reminiscent of chestnuts. The leaves of the tree are<br />

highly valued for female animals that have recently given birth because they greatly increase and<br />

enrich the milk supply. The diluted white, milky sap may be fed to newborn infants as a milk<br />

substitute when mother’s milk is not available.<br />

The dry season had begun, and our farm surprised us by quickly<br />

transforming itself from a mud slide into a dust bowl. Until the grass we<br />

planted patch by patch began to grow, we were going to suffer through a<br />

cycle of mud drying into dust, dust churning into muck. This was taking a<br />

heavy toll on our fragile gardens, which either washed away or became<br />

parched in the blistering sun, leaving the soil cracked and split, as if there<br />

had been an earthquake.<br />

In the peach-colored dawn the family was enjoying a tropical breakfast<br />

of bread and fruits. It was one week after my first encounter <strong>with</strong> Panti.<br />

This was Crystal’s first day of school at Sacred Heart Primary School in<br />

San Ignacio, and I was hoping it would be my first day of school in San<br />

Antonio <strong>with</strong> Panti.<br />

We climbed down the steep, slippery bank to the river. Mr. Thomas<br />

Green, a tall, thin, dark-skinned Creole man in his seventies, was at the<br />

helm of the twenty-one foot dory, which he’d fashioned himself from a<br />

giant tubroos tree. I squeezed in among the children and schoolbags and<br />

asked Mr. Thomas to drop me across the river. “I’m going to see the old<br />

bush doctor, Elijio Panti,” I announced, relishing the sound of my<br />

adventure.<br />

“You gwen go see di ole man?” he said excitedly, in the Creole-English<br />

that most Belizeans speak. “Dat good. Me like di bush med’sin. E good and<br />

di ole man know plenty,” he added, while deftly maneuvering to the

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