Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

The family looked at each other in panic. They were just about to turn
away when Panti stopped them and introduced himself. “I only jest like a
mischievous boy. That is my way. I am the one you seek. Tell me, what is
your problem?”
They were from the Valley of Peace, a settlement of Salvadorean
refugees near Belmopan. The man’s family had been sick for a long time,
and nobody else had been able to help them. “We heard of you from a
neighbor who sings your praises and prays that you will live many more
years,” said the Salvadorean, searching Panti’s aging eyes with hope.
First, he pointed to his eighteen-year-old married daughter, standing
next to him, and explained that she could not have children. The young girl
blushed and dug her plastic shoe into the dirt floor.
“Humph!” said Don Elijio, waving his machete in the air. “Here I cure
those that want and those that don’t want. Nearly always it is the uterus that
is in poor condition. This is a woman’s center, her very being. Nothing can
be right for her if her uterus is not in good condition. I massage, give teas,
baths, and prayers. Then look out! She will have a baby for sure,” he said,
moving his hands over his belly to mimick the curve of pregnancy. He
smiled over to the young woman, rocking an imaginary baby in his arms.
But the man still looked worried. He too had a problem, and it was more
difficult to explain. “My luck has left me,” he blurted out nervously.
It had started when he had been fired from his job as a watchman after a
jealous co-worker told lies about him. Then, he and his wife, who had been
happily married for twenty years, had begun to quarrel constantly. “I
believe this is not natural,” the man said. “Someone is doing this to us. It
must be an enemy.”
Panti nodded, then proclaimed with great forcefulness, “This is the
work of the sastun! Come into the other house and we will pull out your
luck to see if this is natural or not.”
The family trailed off behind Panti. I ached to follow but got no
invitation.
A minute later, I heard sonorous chanting. Panti was reciting in Mayan,
and all I could understand was an occasional word in Spanish. Then I heard
what sounded like the clanging of a clay object on wood. In the doorway I
saw Panti bent over examining something in the light.
Panti held the man’s right hand, then instructed him to open his palm.
There was a small, translucent ball the size of a marble. Panti moved the