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CHAPTER ELEVEN<br />
Tzibche<br />
Crotolaria cajanifolia<br />
Somewhat of a rare herb, Tzibche is used in the treatment of many spiritual diseases and as a<br />
protective brushing before the sacred <strong>Maya</strong> Primicias. It may also be collected as one of the Nine<br />
Xiv formula for herbal bathing.<br />
Good Friday broke <strong>with</strong> seasonal dreary rain and fog, which had been<br />
soaking our farm most of that Holy Week. Although the farm was now<br />
blanketed <strong>with</strong> young blades of grass, there were still many patches of slick<br />
mud. We had been living in knee-high rain boots for days and bathing in<br />
rainwater under the outdoor shower. We’d also kept the wood-burning stove<br />
lit all day to keep ourselves warm and to dry the laundry hanging<br />
everywhere in our kitchen.<br />
We had homemade muffins, mangoes, and Lemon Grass tea for<br />
breakfast that morning around a table Greg had fashioned from secondhand<br />
mahogany boards. But this was no customary, workaday Friday: This was<br />
the day my family and I were to meet the <strong>Maya</strong> Spirits.<br />
We began scurrying around in preparation not only for the Primicia but<br />
for our special guests: Panti and Claudia. James left to canoe across the<br />
river and walk the mile to the road to guide our guests to the farm.<br />
Soon I heard James yelling from the riverbank, “Mo-o-o-om. We’re<br />
crossing over.” Within minutes we saw Panti slowly and deliberately climb<br />
the hillside steps, which Greg had just finished building a few weeks<br />
before.<br />
Behind Panti was a red-faced, puffing Claudia, bearing his sack of dirty<br />
laundry on her head. James held up the rear, oar in hand <strong>with</strong> a smile as<br />
wide as the Macal River on his handsome face.<br />
We exchanged warm greetings, and Panti marveled at my large kitchen,<br />
<strong>with</strong> its thatch roof soaring twenty feet above our wood stove. He was used<br />
to small rooms <strong>with</strong> few windows and imposing darkness.<br />
I led them to the guest room—a rough and rustic, unpainted frame<br />
house <strong>with</strong> a thatch roof, but they let out squeals of approval as if it were a