Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

and child rearing. I was reminded of those wind-up dolls that keep
chattering away until they fall over.
I tried giving them some privacy by concentrating on my work and
remaining relatively silent, but I was bowled over by his animation in the
presence of such a romantic guest. If she was sincere, it would be a prayer
answered, I thought—a companion to share his overburdened days and
long, lonely nights. If she were using him for his money or reputation, then
I was witnessing a budding tragedy.
They talked all afternoon, through dinner, and into the evening. I
became as absorbed with her stories as he was. She spoke a different
Spanish than his, and her dissimilar background and life history fascinated
me. Soon she was disarming me with her charm as I too joined in the
talkfest. When I asked about the father of her five sons, she said without
flinching that he had left her many years ago. She had raised the children by
herself. It was a pitiful tale of hardship not unlike those of many Central
American women I’d met.
As we prepared for bed, I offered to hang my hammock in the kitchen
hut, but Panti insisted I stay in the living quarters, where I slept just a
curtain away from him and his new amante. I heard them cuddling together
in his large, denim hammock, whispering and giggling until three o’clock in
the morning, about the time I faded into a deep, numbing sleep.
At first light, he jerked my hammock as usual: “Child, wake up. The
time is right.” In spite of a busy night, he seemed bright-eyed and full of
energy as we took off to his milpa. I could barely keep up with him.
Although I still had serious doubts about La Cobanera, I was convinced, if
nothing else, that she was an enthusiastic companion for him. I hoped that
he had the power within him to convince her to stay.