Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

Spirits. All of our crystals came out of their little velvet bags and were
placed on the altar. We worked quietly with a sense of reverence, as an air
of hushed spirituality permeated the farm even before the Primicia began.
When every detail was complete, Panti summoned us to stand around
the altar. I brought the atole from the kitchen and Claudia handed him his
bag of jícaras, gourd bowls. Tenderly, he placed the nine bowls on the altar.
He used the tenth bowl, called a julub, only as the serving tool, filling the
others a third of the way with the corn atole. He was portioning it out as a
mother would the last remaining nourishment to her hungry brood.
He turned to see that all were present. Greg, Crystal, James, Lucy,
Claudia, and I stood around him, holding our breath for the Maya mass to
begin. I could hardly contain my excitement. I felt privileged to be standing
next to my maestro at this candlelit altar at the edge of the Maya rainforest.
With the Tzibche branches in his hand, he brushed each of us, forming
nine crosses on our bodies. He explained that this was to protect us from the
powerful presence of the spiritual Winds. They do not intend to do harm, he
assured, but sometimes if people are weak, sick, or in a negative emotional
state the presence of the Spirits can make them quite ill. But the brushing
with Tzibche was sufficient protection. He murmured a Mayan prayer, with
only “God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost” heard in
Spanish.
After the brushing, he motioned for me to stand at his side in front of
the altar. I took my place, feeling like a child taking the stage, nervous
about remembering my lines. He made the sign of the cross over his chest,
held his hands out in front of his body, palms facing outward, and began the
lilting prayer of the sacred Primicia. The rest of us were completely drawn
into his presence and power. His words were unintelligible to all, but the
emotion, love, and faith of this man needed no translation.
I was electrified standing by his side, feeling each word take flight into
the air around the hillside mound. Greg placed more Copal on the coals, and
we savored the pungent sizzle summoning the Spirits to come inhale and
listen to Panti’s holy chants. Tilting his head back, he sang out what
sounded like a shrill bird call, “Ki-ki-ri-ki-kiiiiii.” He continued chanting
until he bowed his head and made another sign of the cross. While waiting
for the Spirits, it began to rain.
Sheets of water washed across us, forcing Panti and Claudia to seek
shelter in the kitchen, still watching the altar over the half-wall. The rest of