“Kneeling in the blazing heat of a narrow waxy corridor between four hundred homemade candles which burned on either side, I was busy spreading a fog of bilious smoldering copal, the “food of the Gods,” whose intoxicating smoke carried my very best esoteric oratory language in a flowery praise to feed the sleeping deity.” Martín Prechtel, Maya shaman
In the face of suffering, members of various Mayan faiths turn to ceremonial ritual. Traditional ceremonial practice dates back not hundreds but thousands of years, and it remains the core of faith and culture for much of the contemporary Maya communities in Guatemala. Today, Mayan culture is a hugely significant to Guatemalan society—individuals that identify as Mayan represent a majority of the population. Within Mayan culture there is much diversity—with over 22 distinct language groups, each with different cultural traits, dress, practices, histories, and traditions, the blanket term Mayan becomes almost irrelevant and makes way for the more widespread use of more specific terms identifying indigenous groups.
A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to attend a traditional Kaq’chikel Maya ceremony in the small village of Santiago outside of Antigua. My friend Anne, another Fulbrighter studying community development and cultural sensitivity (check out her blog:http://kaqkotzij.blogspot.com), speaks Kaq’chikel and invited me to the ceremony which was being held for an elderly woman who has been ill for some time. Anne’s friend Peter is the woman’s doctor, also a rare Kaq’chikel-speaking North American and an MD who has been working in the community for several months (check out his blog: http://coprinus.blogspot.com). Kaq’chikel ceremonies are often held in response to specific illnesses or deaths that come to pass within the community in order to make offerings to the gods in exchange for healing and peace.
Peter’s patient, member of Santiago’s Kaqchikel-Maya community
A few key ingredients
We spent the day of the ceremony moving through the crowded stalls of Antigua’s open-air market gathering ceremony essentials: copal, an incense made from the sap of a tree by the same name; hundreds of candles of various colors, each of which has specific ritual meaning; big bouquets of flowers—later we’d prep by pulling all the petals off of the stems to toss handfuls into the fire; oversized cigars; alcohol (kind?); plastic bags full of sesame seeds; eggs; a nearly 2-foot-long papaya; and big round loaf of sweet raisin bread. Everything, save some of the cigars and half a bottle of the alcohol (which would be consumed by ceremony participants), would be burned away in the flames of the ceremonial bonfire as offerings to the gods. Many of the various sundries would be used to construct the fire circle, and the remainder would be tossed in at strategic moments throughout the ceremony’s three-hour duration. We arrived to the three-walled room at the end of an alleyway where the ceremony would be led by a Kaq’chikel-Mayan Shaman named Roberta. Standing at no more than 5 feet tall and adorned in traditional Kaq’chikel dress accented by the long magenta tethers of a ceremonial headdress, Roberta guided us in fashioning a fire circle just as the light rain became a pounding chatter atop the tin roof and a lightening storm took over the darkening sky. She lit the first candle, ignited the fire, and launched into a long monologue of blessings and predictions addressing each of the group’s specific cases of suffering and reading the flames and smoke of the fire for what may come to pass in the face of such loss and pain.
Roberta begins the ceremony
Later she adds pale blue candles to the fire, an offering that addresses water, fertility and the heavens
One of the most important parts of the work of the Shaman is to read the flames and smoke for signs from the gods relevant to the past, current, and future fates of individuals and the community as a whole.After the fire had died down and the air was totally consumed by fragrant copal-rich smoke, we had a debriefing period, customary at the end of ceremonies for wrapping things up on a reflective note. Those of us who were visitors had a chance to thank the small group of community members who had let us observe and participate in a highly-sacred tradition, and even talk some politics. After Peter had explained that Anne and I were in Guatemala to work on social justice and peace building issues, Roberta talked about the Peace Accords. In a combination of Kaq’chikel and Spanish conveniently translated by Peter, she stressed how the Maya communities continue to suffer even now that the war has officially ended. She called on us to be vigilant of those in power, to help see to it that the government keeps its promises of peace, and that the Accords don’t just remain words on paper. Finally, in a list of reflective thank yous, she said, referring to us, “Thank you to the white people, who come here and don’t just talk, but instead work for the progress of our communities.”
Maya culture is a rich mix of religion, spirituality, politics, activism, and daily lifestyle. It is not just the ancient society we learn of from museums, films, and history texts, but a diverse group of living communities that continue to suffer significant injustices for claiming their cultural identity. They are a strong part of Guatemala with an incredible amount of beauty and resilience that I’ve been privileged to learn from during my time here.
