Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

It would take many days, he said, to finish collecting the “grandfather
Zorillo.” We would have to strip the bark off the vine and mix it with pieces
of the chopped root to be used as medicine. The leaves are excellent for
soothing baths and are one of the many Xiv, he said.
I set the larger, woody vines aside and scraped off the outer bark onto a
sack he spread on the ground for me. He ordered me not to let even a sliver
get away. Every blow of his pick removed a large chunk of soft, black soil,
and he easily lifted up several feet of ropelike roots. The coarse odor of
skunk hung in the air while he piled up the exhumed roots, which I scooped
up and emptied into a bag.
We worked steadily for three hours, disturbing the ants, spiders, and
snails who lived in the dark earth beneath the roots. I held back the flood of
questions building up inside me. I didn’t want to disturb the rhythm of his
work and the quiet of the forest.
“Learn this plant well, my daughter, as we will fill many trojas, corn
bins, with this medicine. Its special blessing is that it cures many diseases.
Mostly we will use it for maldad.”
“Maldad?” I asked, while helping him remove a stubborn piece of root
lodged under a boulder.
“Later, later, you will see,” he quipped.
We gathered up our sacks now stuffed to overflowing with roots, bark,
and leaves, and hoisted them onto our backs. We had to adjust our loads
several times to make room for tools and machetes before starting down the
hillside. Still, he pointed to another vine he said was imperative to collect
this morning. He stopped, put down his hefty sacks, and began cutting.
“Here is Chicoloro. Very important medicine. Remember it well.”
Staring at the vine twisting its way to the forest canopy, I could see
nothing remarkable about its gray bark or green leaves. How was I to
remember this particular one when it looked just like a hundred other vines
around us?
As if reading my mind, he showed me how the vine and the branches
form a recognizable cross. This was a sign, he said, to the healer that this
vine is powerful but dangerous medicine.
I helped him pull down a twelve-foot piece, which he chopped into two
parts, draping one half of the snakelike vine around each of our necks. Soon
we looked like human burros making our way down the hill with these
loads. The journey was getting difficult with the weight pressing on our