Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

four-star hotel. Panti put down his plastic flour sack, stretched his slight
frame out on the cushiony bed, and inched his body around like the hand of
a clock.
“It’s so big and soft. This is the best bed I have ever seen in my life.
Rosita, you treat us like king and queen.” Claudia grinned, nodding in
agreement, quickly spotting the rocking chair with a pillow seat. She
squatted her plump frame onto it and began rocking and sighing from
fatigue.
Panti declined breakfast, saying it was his custom to fast on Good
Friday until dusk. I noticed Claudia was more tender with Panti than I had
ever observed before, and I began to think perhaps he was right—she just
needed a good man to love her and draw out the dormant angel within.
Once in our kitchen amid the bloomers, overalls, and towels hanging
from the rafters, Panti appropriately took up court in our most stately chair.
He was kind and patient with our endless questions about the Primicia and
its significance, enjoying his role as both priest and teacher. As we talked of
Maya Spirits, we were startled by a loud, frantic call from across the river.
We shouted back and heard a man yell, “Is Don Elijio there with you?”
“Yes,” I hollered reluctantly, fearing that Panti would be whisked away
by a supplicant who had tracked him down. I knew if an infirm or needy
person came looking for him, he would tend to that patient and forsake his
respite and our much-anticipated ceremony.
“We need to see him. It’s urgent! Please let us cross!” came the voice
again.
Panti only laughed and rocked faster in his regal chair. “You see what I
told you, child. They follow us everywhere.”
“You haven’t even been here an hour and already they’re calling for
you,” I said, handing an oar to James, who went down to the river to ferry
the visitors across. A few minutes later James reappeared, with two men
following. They looked desperate.
“We went to San Antonio just after you left, but your granddaughter
told us you were here,” one pleaded. “I need to speak to you in private, tato,
please. It’s urgent!”
Rising from his chair ever so slowly and stiffly, Don Elijio grabbed my
outstretched hand and held on while we gingerly walked across the slippery
grass to his little honeymoon cottage.