Sisimito I - Ox Witz Ha

By Henry W. Anderson

Molly Cervantez is a prim and proper Kriol teacher from Belize City. Sergeant Eutimio (Stephen) Chiac is a coarse and rough soldier. Journey with them through the pristine and mysterious jungle of the Cockscomb Basin, Belize, as they are hurled into the dangerous world of the dreaded Sisimito and the Jungle Folk, the Kechelaj Komon, and the majestic Maya city of Ox Witz Ha. Experience the magnificence. Behold the beauty. Live the terror. Suffer the fear. Embrace the adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9789769556188

Book preview

Published by:

Jabiru Books Belize

Placencia, Belize.

Website: http://jabirubooksbelize.com

First Edition Published 2013.

Second Edition Published 2017

Copyright © 2013 and 2017 Henry W. Anderson MBBS, Stephanie D. Anderson, and Jabiru Books Belize.

Printed Book and E-book conversion by BookBaby, U.S.A.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher and/or storyteller.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the storyteller’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Please note that Expedition Bold did take place. The members’ names are used in the Sisimito Series to acknowledge them.

First Edition:

Printed Book ISBN:  978-976-8197-76-4

E-Book ISBN:  978-976-8197-77-1

Second Edition:

Printed Book ISBN: 978-976-95561-5-7

EAN: 9789769556157

E-Book ISBN: 978-976-95561-8-8

EAN: 9789769556188

CONTENTS

WORDS about the Storyteller

THE LONELY SOLDIER

LIST of Illustrations

FOREWORD

The Ballgame – PITZ

The FOLKLORE Characters and Caricatures:

The Kechelaj Komon

Sisimito (Mahanamatz)

CHAPTERS

1–The Road to Santa Cruz.

2–The Celtic Cross.

3–Expedition Bold.

4–The Mexican Branch.

5–All Fools Day at The Fork.

6–Walking Up the Cockscomb Branch.

7–The Lonesome Valley.

8–Sisimito’s Cavern.

9–A Jungle Wedding.

10—First Flight.

11—The Hidden ValleyFalls.

12—The Halach Uinic (Ajawinel K’an II).

13—The Nim-q’ij (Royal) City of Ox Witz Ha.

14—The BallcourtBallcourt (Halaw) and the Sacred Cenote (Ch’ajch’oj Tz’ono’ot).

15—Second Flight.

16—The Apparition.

17—Six Months Later.

Preview of Sisimito II – Xibalba.

NOTES

APPENDIX

Expedition Bold.

Belize Folk Characters briefs and names used in the Sisimito Series.

Caracol - Ox Witz Ha.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

WORDS ABOUT THE STORYTELLER.

On the Trail to Edwards Central.

April 11, 2017

Dr. Henry W. Anderson was born in Dangriga, Belize. He received his medical degree, MBBS, from the University of the West Indies, Jamaica.

After medical internship in Nassau, The Bahamas, he returned home to practice where he had his Private Practice Clinic for over twenty years. He also served as District Medical Officer for the Stann Creek District. He has served Belize in other ways. He served as a soldier in the British Honduras Volunteer Guard. In politics, he contested both municipal and general elections. As a diplomat, he was stationed in Washington D.C. and in Guatemala City. He has been nominated to several Boards and is a Justice of the Peace, and was Chairman of the Board of Governors, Stann Creek Ecumenical High School.

Three of Dr. Anderson’s works have been published in Belize. They are The Son of Kinich, a volume of poetry; The Eddy, a collection of short stories; Ode to the One-Eyed Lady, a novel about a hurricane approaching Belize. Recently published, both as printed and E-books, are Sisimito, Christ Son Of Man - The Voyage to Araboth II, Sisimito II – Xibalba, and Sisimito III - Topoxte. A second edition of Sisimito is titled Sisimito I - Ox Witz Ha and is the first book of the Sisimito Series. There are very few changes from Sisimito.

The late Ambassador Edward A. Laing wrote: Mastery over form and catholic technique are staples in this poet’s work, which is very accessible. Belizean writer Emory King contributed: Your poems indicate a depth of thought and a way with words that is rare in this age of sound-bytes and digest opinions. The Reporter Press stated: Every now and then, a Belizean writer produces a cerebral work that is so intellectually stimulating that it leaves one staring beyond the book and into space. Minister of Education, C. B. Hyde wrote on Ode to the One-Eyed Lady: I have come to the conclusion that this is a great book, not because it is enjoyable and easy to read, although it is, but it is, perhaps, the best book ever written on the subject with which it deals.

Dr. Anderson was the first medical student to be awarded the ‘Use of English Prize’ at the University of the West Indies.

Dr. Anderson is married to Stephanie, née Gegg-Grange. They have four children, fourteen grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Presently, they reside in Minnesota, U.S.A.

Books by Dr. Henry W. Anderson:

The Son of Kinich - Illustrated Poetical Works.

The Eddy - A collection of short stories.

Ode to the One-Eyed Lady - A novel about a hurricane hitting Belize.

Sisimito I - Ox Witz Ha: First novel of the Sisimito Series, second edition. The first edition is titled Sisimito.

Sisimito II - Xibalba: Second novel of the Sisimito Series.

Sisimito III - Topoxte: Third novel of the Sisimito Series.

Christ Son Of Man - The Voyage to Araboth II. - A Science Fiction/Religious novel.

THE LONELY SOLDIER

I crouch down

On the dirty slush

Of wet, wet ground.

All is soddened,

And the rains pour on

From a heavy Heaven.

Everywhere is dark

And I am alone,

Except for my friend–

My cold triggered friend.

Everywhere is fear

For Death lingers near.

I feel Death with every breath,

With every sound, with every shadow.

I know,

It won’t be long

I’ll be dead;

And no one will know,

No one will lay me to rest,

For I am in a strange land

Beyond the frontiers of friendship.

Why do I torture

Waiting only?

Make it easy, dear Death,

One bullet find me.

I feel cold,

But I shiver not.

Perhaps, I am colder than the rain.

I must go on.

To sit and wait for Death is death itself.

There is a chance,

Though slim,

I may yet walk across the lines …

Or do I dream

Like men when all is lost?

Oh! Fools to dream of better times

When life itself is almost done.

I slowly rise and

I walk on.

‘Tis strange how

Fate will have her way.

Is she stronger than He?

‘Tis blasphemy!

But who questions not

When he faces Death

And wants it not?

And on I go,

Step by step,

Waiting only

For what I know will come.

Oh Death,

Should you come,

Come soon and swift,

I beg thee.

From: The Son of Kinich - Illustrated Poetical Works.

By Dr. Henry W. Anderson.

ISBN # 976-8111-24-0.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

1:  Molly and Sergeant Chiac’s Bus Journey.

2:  The Page of Cups.

3:  The Celtic Cross.

4:  Sergeant Chiac’s Walk – Expedition Bold.

5:  The Kendal River looking West.

6:  The Kendal River looking East.

7:  The Overloaded Crocus-bag Bergen.

8:  Taking a last look at the deserted AlabamaAlabama banana shed.

9:  Marching into the Unknown.  Pte. Hulse, M.  Pte. Taylor, R.  Pte. Anderson, H. and Mr. Harry Parham.

10:  The Victoria Peak and the Cockscomb Basin as viewed from the east.

11:  Juan Branch. Pte. Taylor, R.  Pte. Anderson, H.  Mr. Harry Parham.

12:  Juan Branch.  Pte. Hulse, M.  Mr. Harry Parham.

13: Preparing the Camp Site. Privates Anderson and Hulse, and Mr. Parham.

14:  The Tapesco.  Private Anderson and Mr. Parham.

15:  The Mysterious Mexican Branch Camp.

16:  Pte. Hulse, M. at Mexican Branch.

17:  Parham’s Mountain.

18:  The "Haul-Am-Back’ vine with Mr. Parham, and Privates Taylor, Anderson, and Hulse taking a rest before completing the ascent.

19:  From the Summit, the first view of the Cockscomb Range. Seven and a half miles away.

20:  LCpl. Shal, B., aka Lance Corporal-the-Bas-Shal, at a small creek at the bottom of a ravine.

21:  LCpl Shal, B. taking a rest.

22:  The boulders at The Fork.  Private Anderson, Mr. Clarke, Private Taylor and Mr. Parham.

23:  Taking a break at The Fork. Privates Anderson, Taylor, and Hulse.

24:  Private Anderson relaxing at The Fork.

25:  Private Hulse and Mr. Parham exploring The Fork.

26:  Mr. Vincent Clarke enjoying The Fork.

27: Private Hulse and Mr. Clarke cooling off in the rapids at The Fork.

28:  Walking up the Cockscomb Branch (1).

29:  Walking up the Cockscomb Branch (2).

30:  The attack of the Bocotora clapansaya.

31:  A prevalence of Stranglers, Dead and Dying trees, and the Mountain Lion with an Owl (Icim) on its back.

32:  Mr. Parham prepares to have his feet examined by Pte. Anderson, H.

33:  A Dense Chaparral.

34:  A Dense Chaparral and Thorny Leaves.

35:  The Mottled Owl (Icim) in the Covert.

36:  The Covert. Privates Hulse and Taylor, Mr. Vincent Clarke, Private Anderson.

37:  Victoria Peak and the Cockscomb Range. Three miles away.

38:  Victoria Peak and the Cockscomb Range, three miles away, viewed with binoculars.

39:  Sisimito‘s Cavern.  (Actually, the Rio Frio Cave)

40:  Inside Sisimito’s Cavern.

41:  The Golden Grass on the Summit. (Actually, Cooma Cairn, Mountain Pine Ridge).

42:  Victoria Peak and the Cockscomb Range as seen from the Summit.

43:  The Hidden Valley Falls.

44:  Ox Witz Ha Core Site.

45:  Today’s Caana (Sky Palace) and an Artist’s Reconstruction.

46:  Chiac’s Ox Witz Ha.

47:  Maxam’s Arrowhead and Ox Witz Ha’s Defence.

48:  The approach to Cabbage Haul Gap showing the Forest Officer’s Home and the Fire Watch and Reporting Station.

49:  The Fire Watch and Reporting Station.

50:  Victoria Peak as seen from the Cabbage Haul Gap.

51:  Maya Northern and Southern Lowlands, and the Maya Highlands.

52:  Caracol (Ox Witz Ha) Core Site.

FOREWORD

THE BALLGAME – PITZ

Pitz - The name of the ballgame.

Ti Pitziil - The action of play. Only the head, hips, knees, elbows, and the yoke are allowed to hit the game ball (ol). In the Sisimito Series, the ankle is used.

Ol - The game ball is made from a mixture of kik (rubber) and the Guamol tree.

Kipachq’ab’ - Equipment to protect the knees and elbows.

Pix’om - Equipment to protect the head.

Tz’um - Equipment to protect the hips.

NAMES OF FOLKLORE CHARACTERS AND CARICATURES:

THE KECHELAJ KOMON.

In the Sisimito Series, Maya names are used for the members of the Kechelaj Komon. Below, the Belizean names are listed first, generally, followed by the Maya names. For a brief description of each member, see the Appendix.

Cadejo:  Patzapik.

Duenditos:  Alaj Ponopiks.

El Dueño de Los Kekeos:  Kitam Ajchaq’e.

Hashishi Pampi:  Alaj Chaj-r-ij Wíinik.

Kechelaj Jupuq: Sisimito’s enchanted Jungle Horde of animals.

Kechelaj Komon: Jungle Folk.

La Llorona:  Xwáay Ok’ol.

La Sigua:  Xwáay Mulibal-k’ux’.

La Sirena:  Xwáay Kumätz.

La Sucia:  Xwáay Éek.

Mozon:  Etzelal Iq’.

Negro de Agua:  Q’eq Ja Wíinik.

Ole Heg:  Xwáay Chikoop.

Ralxik: Mahanamtz’ bocotora clapansaya.

Sisimito:  Mahanamatz.

Tata Duende:  Tata Ponopik.

Waari Massa:  Hach-k’ek’en Ajchaq’e.

Xtabai: Xtabai.

SISIMITO - MAHANAMTZ

If you are a man and you see him, you will die within a month.  If you are a woman and you see him, your life will be prolonged."

Best described as a large, hairy gorilla with a head much like a human’s, SISIMITO is a character that spans the legends of many of Belize’s ethnic groups, including the Garinagu, who call him SISIMIDU.  A Spanish word with the female form of SISIMITA has no English translation and appears to have come from the Nahuatl word Tzitzimitl.

Tales of the SISIMITO were told in the camps by the mahogany cutters of earlier days and are still passed along in villages like Ranchito and Hill Bank.  He is said to inhabit high forest areas and to live in caves and rocky land.  In the Toledo District, forest areas have decreased over the years because of agricultural development and the Ke’kchi believe that Tzultacah, the deity who protects them from wild animals, has taken SISIMITO into the few densely jungled areas remaining, so he is rarely seen today.

Among the Maya of San Antonio, the SISIMITO is called MAHANAMTZ, the Maya word for a gorilla-like, mythical animal.  Most accounts describe SISIMITO in this way, saying also that he has no thumbs and only four fingers on each hand.  He has no knees and his feet are turned backwards.  His diet consists of raw meat and fruits and, when feasting on human beings, he will tear the body into several pieces before devouring it. Though fierce and malevolent towards humans, he is afraid of water and dogs and will avoid them at all costs.

He often assumes human form, lures people out of a village, and then kills them; because of this, he is sometimes confused with XTABAI or LA LLORONA. A man who looks into SISIMITO’s eyes and escapes usually dies within a month.  A woman, on the other hand, has a prolonged life as a result.  Male and female SISIMITOS exist only in certain areas; they kill human members of the same sex and abduct, and sometimes rape, those of the opposite sex.

A young farmer from the Toledo District once reported that his wife had been carried off by a SISIMITO and, because authorities believed he had killed his wife, they imprisoned him.  Sometime later, a group of hunters discovered a wild-looking woman drinking at a stream by the hillside.  They tried to capture her, but she struggled violently, more so when a SISIMITO appeared at the top of the hill, carrying a child who looked like a cross between a monkey and a human.  The SISIMITO shrieked wildly and purposely dropped the child.  He then trampled down the hill and threw branches at the hunters who, nevertheless, managed to carry the woman away.  When they brought her before the imprisoned man, however, he was unable to recognize her saying that his wife had been young and attractive unlike the wild, unsightly woman he saw before him. The woman refused to speak or eat and she died a few days later, pining away for her lost child.

Especially on Sundays and religious holidays, such as Good Friday, SISIMITO preys hunters and other people who stray into the bush.  He follows human footprints, with his main purpose being either to kill his victims or rip off their thumbs; he will also attack men who are killing ani-mals needlessly or destroying the forest.

SISIMITO harbors an intense desire to learn to speak and, in a desperate attempt, will kidnap children with hopes of learning to talk from them.  The children cannot be rescued because the trail leading into the forest can be wiped out by the SISIMITO who sometimes reverses his feet and runs heels foremost. He is fascinated by fire and will sit patiently by a hunter’s fire until it goes out and then dines on the embers.

Despite all this, he is not invincible and can be outsmarted in various ways.  He can be shot in the face; the rest of his body is protected by thick hair and would not be affected by bullets.  Also, on seeing SISIMITO, you can strip naked and dance and jump about, making him laugh uncontrollably until he falls down unconscious.  If you dance in a circle he will try to follow you, but because his feet are on backwards he will trip and fall.

Some say that he fears his own blood and, to make him run away, you can hand him your machete and, while his hand is grasping it, quickly pull the machete away causing him to cut his hand deeply.

The SISIMITO can, in fact, be tricked in a couple of ways because of his limited intelligence.  When you walk away from him he becomes confused, thinking that you are actually approaching him.  Sometimes, you can make a path of footprints that lead into the bush and SISIMITO, unable to follow the trail any longer, will turn and begin to follow his own footsteps, thinking they are someone else’s.  The ultimate way to get rid of him, however, is to set fire to his long hair.

The above extract and artwork were taken from Characters and Caricatures in Belizean Folklore.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

Most photographs in the illustrations were taken by Vincent Clarke for Expedition Bold.  The reconstruction of the Caana in Illustration 45 is from Chronicles of the Maya Kings and Queens.  Thanks to Cpl. Coh, L. D. (Luis Delmar) for the use of his image as Bas.  Thanks also to Federica and Benedicto Choc for help with the English/Maya translations.

Illustration 1:  Molly and Sergeant Chiac’s Bus Journey.

CHAPTER ONE

THE ROAD TO SANTA CRUZ.

Holy Week – Awas Q’ij.

Tuesday, March 28, 1972.

The local bus was hot.  The restricted air was rank, humid with sweat. Passengers were cramped two adults a seat, sometimes with an additional person catching the bare edge along the narrow aisle which itself was crowded.  There were children; some were eating biscuits and drinking bottled soft-drinks, some bottle-feeding, some breast feeding, some sleeping, some doing nothing in particular except looking very feverish and irritated. One child was crying.  Her tears made lines through the red dust that had risen from the clay covered road and clothed her face.  Coughing, throat clearing, sneezing were done often and often done with great amplification, both from the children and adults, as more and more crimson dust gushed in through the open windows.  Conversations were few, impeded by the stifling red mist that immediately coated the open mouth.  Occasionally, a parent scolded a child or an adult passed a loud remark which brought laughter or silence as the transport continued bumping and rocking its occupants down the unpaved road.

The sixty-odd passengers were resigned to their temporary fate: a long drive of over one hundred miles in an old yellow school bus from Dangriga to Punta Gorda on a hot and dusty March day, on a dirt road with large, medium and small potholes marking its scrubboard surface.  Occasional light rain showers did nothing to control the dense dust and only made the red powder filled humid tropical air more unbearable.  Whenever the bus passed another vehicle, the dust was so thick that Molly could not see the countryside she had wanted so badly to see and the dust did not dissipate quickly but hung over the road for mile after mile.  Molly’s disappointment and discomfort grew even though she had dressed suitably, lightly for the trip.  She wore a faded pink cotton short-sleeve blouse, buttoned to just above her breasts, and blue jeans shorts. On her feet were plain brown sandals.  She had dressed for the heat, but there was no attire for the dust.

It was impossible to say if the hot wind and dust overtaking the bus made the driver uncomfortable or concerned about his passengers.  He just kept on driving. If he were not bothered about the hot and dusty conditions then, perhaps, that was because there was little, if anything, he would have been able to do to alleviate them. He had a dirty handkerchief around his neck and, from time to time, took it and wiped the red sweat off his face. A small and noisy fan was attached to the body of the bus, not far from his head.  It kept a steady flow of dusty hot air directed at his face.  His khaki uniform shirt was drenched in sweat and he had opened his shirt buttons displaying a stained undershirt from which hung his brown hairy sweaty belly. He was not a very tall man, but medium built with extra belly pounds that the heat and sweat had not been able to get rid of.  He kept moving his head to static filled music coming from a small radio situated above his head and near to the noisy fan.  Occasionally, he would hum loudly or sing a few lines.  When Jim Reeves’ This is it was playing, he sang the whole song.  At times, he would push his head out the window, blast the loud horn and shout something at someone on the roadside, or at a house with people on the steps or in the yard, and even at houses that were completely closed with no one thereabouts. Molly was glad that the people and houses were distanced by miles or the horn would have been blaring continuously.

Also, apparently unaffected by the conditions he and the travelers faced was the conductor.  He stood leaning on the back of one of the seats, about midway down the crowed aisle, rocking as the bus rocked.  He kept writing in a small black book while keeping a little black bag securely held under his left armpit.  Molly thought it amazing that even in those deplorable travelling conditions, he was intent on making sure that everyone paid and that it was all written down in his little black book. At that time, he was checking a group of passengers who had just boarded the bus from the roadside village of Kendal. The bus had stopped for a few minutes, lessening the dust but increasing the heat, allowing some passengers to leave and others to come on.

The conductor hung over Molly.  The heat, plus the heavy scent of Right-Guard, Brut, dust, and sweat, augmented by the mélange of smells from passengers, food, belongings, and the general cargo the bus had taken on, were making her feel sick.  Although the window was only one person away from where she sat, it was in the unreachable distance and she fully accepted that her fellow passenger would not give up his window seat.  She tried not to think of her growing nausea and, as a distraction, kept looking at the conductor, hoping that his Right-Guard and Brut would hurriedly pass.  She glanced down and noted his cordovan brown leather ankle boots with side zippers and squared toes.  She raised her eye brows, still looking at him.  Those boots were not cheap.  He was tall, very dark, slightly built, but tight muscled. His face was narrow and that was more pronounced because of the grand afro he wore.  A large rhinestone filled afro-pick was strategically placed in the afro and he looked down at the passengers from very dark glasses.  He wore a well ironed light-green bell-bottom cuffed polyester pants, complete with wide leather belt, and a colorful dashiki shirt … a Modesto.  The shirt had bright red, navy blue, green, dark brown, yellow, deep purple and cream designs in diamonds, flowers, triangles and stripes, angel wing sleeves, a V-neck, two front square pockets, and side slits. Molly stared, momentarily, at the little black bag, tucked amidst all the color, held securely under his armpit, absorbing his sweat.  She wondered abstractly how a conductor on a local bus service could wear that brand of cloths to work … and why?  He smiled at her as he maneuvered his way further down the aisle.  Good afternoon, Miss, he said. She smiled back at him, weakly, her nausea growing.

The stop at Kendal had not been without commotion.  As some seats were vacated, the passengers who were standing near the seats hurriedly sat down, trying to secure a seat for the remainder of the long trip. Two local men, however, had pushed their way through the disembarking passengers and hurriedly taken a seat that two other passengers were about to sit in.  The passengers were, at that time, standing and putting their bags on the rack overhead when the two men slipped into the vacant seats that were immediately behind Molly.

Hey, shouted a fat black Kriol1 woman from across the aisle. That seat’s not for you two.  Can’t you see those two passengers right there? They’ve been standing since we left Dangriga.

What happen now? challenged the slightly taller of the two men.  He spoke slowly and with a slur. Since when you become the bus police? Nobody tells Stephen Chiac what to do. Nobody!  The man sniggered. Look how you fat.  Maybe if you never so fat they would fit in the seat with you … instead, you take up a whole bloody seat by yourself.

I paid for these two seats, Mister Man Stephen Chiac, shouted the woman.  I like to travel comfortable and I don’t mind paying for it. And I’m fat because I eat damn good … not only tortilla and beans like you.  A few of the passengers laughed loudly and the woman shifted triumphantly in her seat.  Ah, Stephen Chiac!  Everybody know about you, Stephen Chiac. You’re just a trouble maker. Not even the army’s helping you.

We’ll move, replied Stephen, slowly, nodding his head, but only if we can sit on your lap.  And I want to put my head right between them big sweet luscious breasts you have there.

You don’t have a chance, Indian, shouted the woman, pouting her lips, closing her eyes and tilting her weighted chin upward.  I already got a man and he’s a good man, a very good man at everything he chooses to do.

Stephen was about to stand up to continue the altercation, but his companion held him down.  What now, Bas?  Bas just stared at him, not answering, keeping his hands firmly on Stephen’s shoulders.  He shrugged his shoulders and yawned, remaining seated.  "You too fokin2 soft, Bas." The engine backfired and the bus started to move.  The two standing passengers shook their heads and held on to the overhead hand rail once more.

The bus rocked along and the conductor continued his collecting.

Five dollars, Molly heard him tell the two men sitting behind her.

Five dollars? bellowed Stephen.  I always travel this bus and I never in my life had to pay five dollars to travel from Kendal to Punta Gorda Cutoff yet.  I always pay three dollars.  Three dollars it is and that’s all I’m going to pay.

It’s five dollars and it has always been five dollars, stated the conductor, hitting his black book repetitively with his black ballpoint pen and flicking his dark shades with his nose.

Well, I’m not paying five dollars, retorted Stephen.  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.  He took out three dollars while counting aloud "One!  Two!  Chree!"3 and handed them towards the conductor. The conductor did not take them.

That’s all he probably got, laughed the very plump Kriol lady.  Spent all the rest on rum. The passengers burst out laughing.

It is five dollars, insisted the conductor, the expression on his face unchanged, as he continued hitting his black book with his black pen, the black bag still secured under his armpit.  The bus hit one of the larger potholes and the passengers were shaken from side to side. The conductor did not move, the passengers absolutely quiet.

Pay the bloody five dollars, Stephen, Bas demanded, quietly.  I’m in no fokin condition to walk this damn road in this midday heat.  In fact, I might as well tell you … I ain’t walking today. You’ll walk alone.

Who said anything about fokin walking?  I want to see who’s man enough to take me, Stephen Chiac, out of this bus.  Sometimes, Bas, you’re too …

Driver! shouted the conductor.  "Stop the bus. ¡Malpagos!4

The bus started to decelerate then came to a complete stop.  The red dust cloud that was trailing the moving bus began entering through all the windows.  The bus suddenly backfired, again, even more loudly, causing everyone to jump, that is, except the driver and the conductor.  Several children began to cry and some passengers were beginning to cough.  Molly looked around.  Almost everyone had placed reddened handkerchiefs over their nose.  Unfortunately, she had not brought one.

"Well, I don’t know about man enough, but I certainly know about woman fumfum5 and that’s the worst beating a man can get and I am willing to provide it, warned the woman who was then breathing very loudly as she continued to occupy the entire seat across the aisle from the two men. Pay up, boy, because I don’t have time to waste.  I knew these two would give trouble from the time I laid these eyes of mine on them.  The woman shifted on her seat effortlessly and with great mobility then vociferously addressed Stephen, Bas, and the whole bus.  I am on an important mission. Pay up or get out."  She looked directly at Stephen and Bas.  Other passengers started to grumble, some shouting with open hostility at the two men. The two passengers standing near them began looking hopeful.

Pay the conductor the five dollars, demanded Bas, obviously irritated.  Like I fokin said, friend or no friend, I ain’t walking with you today.

Three dollars only! blurted out Stephen, adamantly.  He sat upright with his eyes closed.

Bas gave the conductor his fare and the additional two dollars after snatching the three out of Stephen’s outstretched hand.  Stephen opened his eyes and looked over to the woman.  He rubbed his chin slowly with his right hand.  He then moved his tongue deliberately over his upper lip after which he winked at her.  There was no response from the woman, she just kept looking at Stephen.  He shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, resting his head at the junction of the back of his seat and the side of the bus. He closed his eyes.

Proceed, Driver, shouted the conductor.

All right, cried out the woman.  Let’s get this damn bus moving.  I’m on a mission … and, Driver, can’t you drive any faster?  Ha! Ha!  Ha! she exploded, then turned and faced the two men, the laugh dropping from her face.  "You must know how to behave among decent people and especially when there are visitors.  She smiled and looked towards Molly.  There were nods of approval and grunts of support from the other passengers.  The woman settled back into her seat looking well pleased with herself.

Molly had been mesmerized by what had happened and, unconsciously, had turned in her seat and was staring intently at the two men.  It was hard to tell their ages, but they were young men.  The one called Stephen was thin but muscular, not frail, a little tall for a Maya, taller than his friend, not that she knew much about the ethnic groups in that part of the country. She had seen Maya people, from time to time, in Belize City and those she had seen were generally short in stature.  The only Maya that she had any real contact with was Gus Cucul, a senior student at the school where she taught.  He was Mopan Maya and he was short. One day during the last semester, Gus had offered to teach her the local languages and she had grasped the opportunity.  She taught English, Spanish, knew some French, and was always eager to learn other languages.  She welcomed the chance at learning Ke’kchi and Mopan, especially since they were ethnic Maya languages of Belize.  Her trip down South was to allow her to practice and experience them first hand.

Stephen had short oily black hair that shined even through the dust.  Yet, under the sunlight from the open window, his hair was thinner than his friend’s and there was a subtle hint of a golden-brown color.  His face was narrow, he had thick dark eyebrows, a sharp nose and a surprisingly small mouth.  There was seriousness, but a lack of calmness on his face, unlike his friend Bas who seemed to have a hidden smile somewhere. Bas’ face was wider, eyes more wide-set, nose smaller and mouth bigger. Even though Bas also seemed unapproachable, there was a suggestion that beneath that facade there was something positive, perhaps small, but something positive. Molly jumped when Stephen addressed her, loudly.

"What the hell are you looking at, pretty gyal ?"6 he demanded, bringing his unsmiling face close up to hers.  He then added quietly, Or, is it just that you like what you see? Me! I know I’m handsome.

I’m sorry, gasped Molly.  She was looking directly into his eyes. They were not completely black, seemed to have a shade of brown within which were definite hidden streaks of grey.  I didn’t mean to stare.  She swung herself towards the front of the bus, feeling more nauseous than before, for Stephen’s breath covered her face with the smell of stale rum and cigarettes.

I haven’t finished talking to you yet, Señorita, continued Stephen, eyeing her lustfully and leaning towards her over the back of the seat until his head almost rested on her neck.  Don’t be nervous.  I wouldn’t hurt you.  I just provide pleasure. He laughed, loudly, as the lady from across the aisle glared at him.  He lowered his voice.  I know you’re not from around here, Sweetie, and you’re not travelling with a man so I feel it my duty to see that you don’t feel lonely.  That you enjoy yourself.  He spoke even more quietly.  I’m sure you know about men and I am the best of the best when it comes to those things. Yeah! And, Muchacha, I can really work Tóolok,7 he whispered, spittle bubbling at his lips.  I’m Ke’kchi, not Kriol like you, but once the lantern is out and the night is dark, every tóolok is the same, wants the same and gives the same happiness.  Joy.  Great joy. Just like Christmas.  I love Christmas, you know.  Don’t you?  Molly did not answer, but kept staring straight ahead.  Now, why don’t you want to talk to me? Let’s arrange a little Christmas joy, Muchachita. Let’s hear some silver bells and have some Christmas cheer.  Stephen smiled, sleepily.  No one moved or said anything and the bus would have been absolutely quiet were it not for the static filled music coming from the radio.  However, all eyes were focused on Molly and the two men.  Bas had not moved, but his eyes were riveted on Stephen.

Leave the young lady alone, shouted the woman, this time shifting laboriously in her seat.  Come on, Conductor.  Do your job.  This drunken Indian interfering with the young lady.  Being disrespectful. Christmas!  Hmph!  What would you know about the real meaning of Christ-mas?

Bas held tightly on to Stephen’s arm on seeing his friend’s face hardening at the woman’s comment.  Cool off! Bas pleaded, quietly. Fokin cool off and stop this drunken shit!  You don’t even know what you’re saying.

Yes!  Tell him to cool off, ordered the woman.  "My name ain’t Matilda Moss if I will allow anyone to take advantage of an innocent young lady, but maybe she’d surprise us and beat your drunken ass. After all, Tiga maaga but e strong.8 And, she looks the olympic type."

The conductor had struggled up the aisle. He pulled his dark glasses down over his nose, looking over it at the two men. Listen! he warned, pointing his black pen at Stephen.  No action on this bus. Any more problems and I’ll take you … both of you off the bus.  Take it easy and let’s go where we’re going.  His features did not change and, that time, both the black bag and the black book were secure under his armpit.

Cool off, Stephen, Bas repeated, in resigned annoyance.  I’m not going to walk with you.  It’s you alone this time.  I’ll even help them throw you off the fokin bus. Leave the girl alone and settle down, man. You’re behaving badly and there’s no reason for it.

Molly felt Stephen moving away.  She turned to look at them, wanting to repeat that she had not meant to stare.  Stephen smiled, his eyes half-closed, then he looked across to Matilda Moss who was still staring directly at him. He wrinkled his nose at her, after which he immediately settled himself into his corner by the window, closed his eyes, and was promptly asleep. Molly looked at Bas, wanting to thank him. She blushed, for he was staring at her bosom.  She, immediately, started to turn towards the front of the bus, but caught sight of a green string hanging around Bas’ neck.  She reached up and held her own chest, feeling the Green Scapular9 lying there. She looked back at him saying, Thank you.  He simply nodded and then looked towards his friend. He shook his head slightly and smiled.  He leaned sideways, resting his head on Stephen’s shoulder and was soon asleep as well.

My people certainly don’t know how to behave in public, grumbled Matilda Moss.  There was again a general murmur of assent.  And especially when we have visitors, she continued, smiling, and looking directly at Molly. Their poor mothers must be ashamed of them. These two! She shook her head sadly. Molly smiled and Matilda Moss turned, glaring straight ahead.  Can’t you drive any faster, Driver? I’m on a mission. Christmas! Hmph!  It’s Easter.  Must not even know the difference.  Christmas!  Hmph!

The bus passed through a rain shower and the windows were hurriedly closed, rapidly increasing the temperature, humidity, and odors within the bus.  Molly was glad she had stopped at a drug store in Dangriga and bought and taken two traveling pills.  The nausea came in waves, but was not as bad as they would have been without the pills.  Yet, at times, she felt as if she would throw up.  The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun and the windows were hurriedly opened. The dust returned in copious amounts.

She reflected for a moment, wondering if she had done the right thing to take the bus south.  Learning Mopan and Ke’kchi was, in fact, only a hobby and it was unlikely she would ever teach the languages.  Indeed, she had always wanted to see the remote villages of her country, but now she was questioning if coming alone was such a good idea after all.  Gus, to whom she had expressed an interest in the villages and whose Mopan family lived in Santa Cruz, had invited her to join them there for the Easter Holidays. She had been intrigued, although she would miss going to St. George’s Caye, which the family always did at Eastertime.

The village of Santa Cruz was in pristine jungle and life there did not have all the demands of city life.  She expected to enjoy herself and so was on her way to meet Gus at the Punta Gorda cutoff. There, she would leave the bus which would continue on its way to coastal Punta Gorda Town.  Gus had, supposedly, made the transportation arrangements for them to travel to San Antonio and then onto Santa Cruz. She tried to relax, thinking that it was only the unfortunate incident with the two men … along with the heat, the dust, and the nausea that was making her uneasy.  Perhaps, she pondered, she should have flown one of the local airlines, but she had wanted to see the countryside.  Even that, however, she was not achieving because of all the dust.

The bus arrived at the Punta Gorda cutoff about two hours later and Molly was very relieved to see Gus at the road mouth.  About a dozen passengers stood and as she struggled to the door and to freedom, a hot but fresh breeze brushed against her face.

Matilda Moss shouted at her, Take care, Darling.  Take care.

Before she could answer, the other people getting off had ushered her through the door.  She walked hurriedly along the side of the bus to the window where the woman sat.  Thank you, Miss Moss, she uttered, gratefully.

The woman smiled then frowned slightly as if having a troublesome premonition. Take care of yourself.  God Bless. She turned, shouting, Hurry up, Conductor. I’m on a mission.

Molly moved away from the side of the bus as the disembarked passengers continued gathering their belongings.  The breeze, even though hot, brought immediate relief because it was a breeze free from the entrails of the crowded bus. Gus hastened towards her and they embraced lightly.

Welcome, Teach, said Gus, smiling happily.  Lord almighty! You’re a dusty red … welcome to the South.

It’s good you’re here, she remarked, a bit nervously, trying not to show her uneasiness.  If you hadn’t showed up, I definitely would have continued into Punta Gorda.  And, please call me Molly.  Teach is for school.

Something happened?  You sound upset, queried Gus, concern evident in his voice.

Oh, it’s probably just the trip.  It was a long one … all the way from Belize City, she answered.  And the heat.  She passed her hands through her hair, looked upwards, closed her eyes and permitted a little smile. She stared at her hands. They were red. I’ll have to take a bath.

We don’t bathe here, laughed Gus.

The bus was beginning to rev and Molly glanced at the bus, seeking out Miss Moss. She was observing Molly through the window.  Ma’am, Molly shouted. Thank you again.

Miss Moss smiled and waved then turned to the front, once more, shouting, Driver!  Let’s get this bus going.  I’m on a mission.  She looked back at Molly and winked.  The bus drove away and, somehow, Molly felt like she was losing contact with civilization.  She could not help feeling uneasy.

So, you made a friend, pretty gyal, called out a voice, directly behind her.  And it’s you, Gus, the pretty city gyal come stay with, drawled Stephen, unsmiling and looking at Gus with his red and tired eyes.  Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me. Oh!  Pretty gyal!  There’s a beautiful little spot by a creek only I know about.  You said you wanted to bathe.  You and I can go bathe there, pretty gyal.  Naked.  Like nature.  Gus’s a nasty man. He doesn’t like to bathe.  Stephen began laughing roguishly as he walked off. Come on, Bas.

Molly felt weak, the experience on the bus refreshed in her mind. Stephen’s voice had startled her, perhaps even scared her.  Who are they? Who are they, Gus? she whispered.

Gus shook his head.  Two men from the village who can’t seem to grow up, he answered.  They’re soldiers.  Can you believe that?  The discipline surely doesn’t come through when they’re on leave.  Gus saw that Molly was very distressed.  Oh, don’t worry about them. Stephen likes to spout shit … pardon the language. He’s damn lucky to have Bas as a friend.  Bas is always getting him out of hot water.  Stephen’s the taller clown; but don’t let them trouble you, Molly.  You probably won’t even see them again as they’re usually here for very little time.  He smiled and shook his head.  Stephen gives me a hard time whenever he can.  I have a budding relationship with his young sister. He doesn’t like it.

Stephen was horrible on the bus, complained Molly.  He was drunk … or at least smelly of stale rum.

They spree a lot when they’re on leave.  Yet, I hear that they are very good soldiers.  Anyway, don’t let them get to you.  There’s nothing to worry about here.  Let’s pick up your things, suggested Gus, in an upbeat voice. We have a long way to bike.

Are we going to bike all the way to Santa Cruz? exclaimed Molly, reaching for the enthusiasm she had when she first started the trip.

No, laughed Gus.  It’s too far.  We’ll catch a ride to San Antonio and from there we’ll bike it.  The transport will be here to pick us up in a little while.

How come you haven’t told me anything about your sweetheart? Molly laughed, trying to shake the troubled spirit that had arisen while on the bus. Gus chuckled hoarsely.

Molly began to unwind.  She hugged her small athletic body, beginning to anticipate the trip to Santa Cruz and the fact that she would soon be travelling through completely unspoiled country.  She passed her hands through her short light brown hair lifting it, as well as some of the red dust, and then let it fall.  She was about five feet five inches tall, weighed just over a hundred pounds, but was definitely not frail or sickly looking.  Her skin was fair and her eyes large, brown, and bright.  Her nose and mouth were just above tiny, her cheekbones prominent.

Molly looked at the landscape around her.  Jungle!  Jungle!  Jungle! Mountains!  Mountains!  Mountains!  That was the view she saw as she looked down the narrow dirt road inland.  Jungle and mountains! she exclaimed, clapping her hands above her head.  On the bus, she had not been able to see much of the broken pine ridge savannahs the Southern Highway passed through due to the dust.  It was the tropical rainforest, however, that she wanted to see most of all.  She was finally there.  She heard a vehicle approaching and turned around to see Gus picking up her backpack.

We’ll ride in the back and you’ll be able to see more, said Gus. There are a few others to go, but we’ll have …  Gus stopped. He noticed that Molly’s face looked uneasy again. He glanced into the back of the pickup truck.  Stephen and Bas sat lazily on either