Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

I had to admire Don Elijio’s simple and potent faith in unseen powers. I
also admired the way he involved his Spirits in his daily actions. This was
very different from my experience with Catholicism as a child. Religion and
everyday life were much more separated in my upbringing.
It was getting close to the noon hour. The day was heating up, and our
sacks were full of Wild Yam and Zorillo, Skunk Root.
“I brought us each a mango, Don Elijio. Let’s sit down and rest for just
a bit and enjoy them,” I said, showing off the plump, golden red fruit we
had harvested that year off our young trees. He spread out a plastic flour
sack for us to sit on near a flowering Yax Nik or Fiddlewood tree. Tiny,
purple blossoms sprinkled the air around us with a faint, sweet perfume.
As we savored the juicy bites, the subject switched from Spirits to La
Cobanera. Recently Claudia’s jealous and self-consumed nature had
become all too evident. There had been outbursts with female patients; I
had watched her on several occasions interrupt his abdominal massages of
women. Jutting her angry face behind the curtain, she’d demand, “How
long will this take? Do you have to massage every woman who comes in
here?”
Panti was aghast at her performance, and the patients didn’t like it much
either. Her suspicions could inflame whatever doubts his female patients
harbored toward him based on the street gossip that had initially made me
afraid of him. He was also gravely insulted by her accusations, as he
especially prided himself on his flawless code of ethics with women
patients. Often he told me, “Rosita, we cannot sin as easily as our brothers.
It is a grave, mortal sin for us to contemplate harm or to disrespect our
patients. We lose the help of God and the Nine Benevolent Spirits if we
harm our patients. No, it is a sin, and I don’t sin. If I sin against humanity,
only the Nine Malignant Spirits will want to work with me, and I’m not
interested in harming people, only healing them.”
Claudia was jealous of me as well, hinting that Panti and I were lovers,
hiding our affair from her and Greg. We only laughed at that, realizing the
pitiful extent of her paranoia.
In the bush that day, I advised him, “Papa, you’re a grown man with lots
of experience in life, but this time I fear your loneliness and need for a
woman has blinded your judgment. How could you possibly do your work
in peace with that scowling face peeping behind the curtains? Just think of