Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

soiled clothes on their heads to be washed in the creek, schoolchildren in
blue uniforms scampered around the yards, chickens squawked, and
customers mingled in his grandson’s store.
We walked along an old logging road in silence. I was perfectly content
to quietly traipse behind him, following his little black boots as they keenly
sidestepped the rocks and divots complicating the careworn, dirt road.
Peanut fields spread out as far as I could see, while corn sprouted on the
other side. Sprinkled here and there were patches of pumpkins and beans.
He eyed the herds of cattle chewing on barren fields, only recently
converted from jungle bush, then shook his arm in the air and shouted over
his shoulder, “Nowadays one has to go farther and farther to find medicine
because they’re chopping away so much of the forest. The fools don’t know
they’re destroying life-giving medicine.”
Yellow-head parrots bounded out of the cornfields as we approached,
parading over our heads and flaunting their flaxen crowns. Panti looked up
at the commotion and cursed them as shameless scavengers who can devour
a day’s supply of corn needed for a hungry family of five.
We passed a field of ripening watermelons glistening with insecticides.
“Look at that,” he said scornfully. “They are fooling themselves. They’ve
poisoned their own mother and sent her out to sell herself in the markets of
the world. She will make them pay for this cruel treatment. Payment always
comes.”
I was startled by his outcry but grateful for his sentiments, which
echoed my beliefs.
Without breaking step, he continued, “Why can’t farmers of today
understand? The soil is like a bank account. You can only take out what you
put in. Who has a bank account anywhere where you can only withdraw
without making deposits? No. No, one must feed the soil with pure, good
nutrients if you expect to get that back. Feeding the earth with poisons only
means you harvest poisoned food. Not for me, I would never touch one of
those melons. They are no more than artificial flowers.”
This was a passionate topic for Greg and me, and I told Panti about our
endless toiling over our stubborn soil. I stressed our refusal to hasten its
production with chemical additives. I explained that a major factor behind
our exodus from the States was to pursue organic farming and to live in a
chemical-free environment.