At the beginning of time, according to ancient Mayan legend, the gods from their center spun out the cosmos, setting in place the universe. The corn god laid out the four corners and erected the World Tree in the center, from whose branches grew one of everything to come. When they became too full, the ‘fruit’ fell, scattering seeds. The old tree then provided shelter for the new plants and nurtured them. The stump has continued to exist as the center of the world.

Creation and acts of the gods in making the world and regulating nature has been at the heart of Mayan thought and religion for 3,000 years. Mayan civilization flourished at the time of Christ in what is now Central America, building magnificent and colossal cities and temples. The Maya world view that survives in Guatemala’s indigenous culture looks back, contrary to the Western world view that looks to the future. For the Maya, the past sustains the present.

The weaving tradition expresses that past and the world view, full of symbolism which connects the Maya to all of creation. The Maya people center themselves in the cosmos and creation by the cloth they weave. The spindle is seen as the center, from which yarn is spun out. Myth has it that a Maya woman, led by a goddess, learned to weave by watching a spider weave a web. The back strap loom is seen as an aspect of the World Tree, the weaver feeding the loom to create. Wearing the traditional, woven costume (traje) is part of the backward focus—the importance of customs. The tradition of weaving continues in the traje, and so the Maya maintain their identity.

Girls learn to weave at age four or five. Women generally design their own blouses (huipiles) and spend several months weaving their creations. It is a costly process, both in time and money, and the huipil is worn for many years. Designs may be passed down from generation to generation, with styles unique in colors and designs particular to landscape, ceremonies and mythology of each Maya group. Yarn for the weavings is of locally grown and spun cotton or, in the colder climates of the highlands, fine wool.

The traje of an indigenous Maya woman identifies her ethnically and socially. Further information of civil status or position may be shown in the manner in which certain articles are worn.  For example, the way she wears the hair ribbon may tell whether she is married or single.

Earliest weavings used only geometric designs but then added fauna and flora. Textile motifs celebrate life, showing harmony with nature and the cosmos in symbols such as seeds, rays of the sun, phases of the moon, corn, volcanoes, birds and other animals, water jugs. Vivid colors of the weavings reflect the flowers that abound in Guatemala.

Much of the meaning of the symbolism has been lost or changed, making it difficult to research this significant aspect of Mayan clothing. And younger women, feeling more and more social freedom, choose colors and patterns according to preference rather than identity. Often huipiles are simply less expensive fabric blouses with machine embroidery. Also increasingly, there is the choice of modern Western clothes.

The weaving tradition is a dynamic art form with ties to the past. It is more than craft. Artisans have filled their weavings with memories of their people. It serves as an instrument of ethnic identity and has also become a major source of income, with tourists choosing table coverings, napkins, bags, pillows, bedspreads and more.

Remarkably, the Maya and their tradition have adapted and survived.

photos by Rudy A. Girón

Mayan Patron Saint is an enigma

text and photos by Thor Janson www.bushmanollie.com

There is not a town or village in the entire Mayan Highlands where the presence of Maximón is not being asserted. Although the guide books for many years have only listed three Maximón shrines—San Andrés Itzapa, Zunil and Santiago Atitlán—there are literally thousands of Maximón temples and chapels all over Guatemala.

Maximón vies for importance with the principal Catholic saints, and the church has been waging war on him for 500 years with but little success. The cult of Maximón flourishes all over northern Mesoamerica.

But who is this Maximón? Maximón is an enigma. Some scholars will tell you that that he is a corruption of the Catholic San Simón. Others will tell you the “indigenous saint” is most definitely pre-Columbian in origin. Many scholarly articles and even entire books have been written about him, but no one can agree about just exactly who he is or what his origins are. He is present in many, if not most Mayan shamanic temples. His figure can also be seen in seedy bars in Chimaltenango. His best-known physical appearance is that of a Spanish overlord, although he can just as easily take the form of a primitive stone idol or even an extra-terrestrial.

Maximón plays a prominent role during Holy Week in which he morphs into Judas Iscariot and is seen paraded about town and hung above the entrance of many Catholic churches. The moment of the most intense excitement is when Maximón is brought out of his shrine to meet Jesus on Good Friday in the packed square in front of the church.

People who fear him imagine that he is used by witchdoctors in their black magic and for conjuring curses. However, there is big plaque at one of the shrines near Maximón’s throne where he himself states unequivocally that no one should ever appeal to him to do harm. The Law of Compensation will duly punish anyone who attempts this.

THE MAGICAL & MYSTERIOUS WORLD OF MAXIMÓN
Guatemala is a land where magic is alive and well. Many people in Guatemala, especially evangelical Christians, reject traditional “pagan” practices as being evil. Nevertheless, much of the population believes that practitioners of the magic arts exist and that their powers are real.
In the modern civilized world our “high priests”—scientists and doctors—have convinced us that this kind of thing only exists in myth and legend.

But in rural Guatemala people still freely engage in magical thinking—a kind of thinking where they can believe that literally anything can happen. And this kind of open-ended thinking, which can lead to unfounded fear and anxiety, can also lead to a kind of freedom of thought, which is actually exhilarating. Yes, Guatemala is a land of magic and mystery.

Over the years I have met many Guatemalans who believe in Maximón. In all cases these devotees thought that Maximón was a good being: a friend whom you call on when you are in trouble or when you believe that someone is trying to hurt you. Maximón intercedes on one’s behalf and helps to remove whatever is getting in the way of one’s health or prosperity. I will now recount several personal experiences that I have had with the mysterious world of Maximón:

Some time ago I was renting a room at a rather posh apartment complex in Panajachel. As one might expect, many of the workers were indigenous Maya from the region. Part of the staff were made up of individuals from Panajachel and were Kaqchikel Maya. The rest were from Santiago Atitlán and were from the Tz’utujil tribe. What is unknown to nearly everyone except local residents is that there exists a certain amount of enmity between the two tribes, which can be traced back to the Conquest when the vanquished Kaqchikel were obliged to fight alongside the Spanish as they attempted to subdue the Tz’utujil resistance, which continued to defend their homeland on the south shore of Lake Atitlán.

One of the Tz’utujil workers where I stayed began to take ill. It was a slow process, but as the months passed he became weaker and noticeably thinner. He was taken to the doctors but none was able to detect the cause of his malady. I had known this young man for many years and felt quite concerned about his predicament. He became so weak that he was unable to come to work.

Then one day, with the help of his sisters, he came back to speak with the owners of the apartment complex. He told them that he had had a dream where Maximón appeared and spoke to him. Maximón told him that one of the Kaqchikel men who worked at the apartments was trying to put a curse one him. He was told that if they searched the property, they would find a cache of black-magic items.

The owners, who are North Americans, took the young man seriously and searched the compound. Lo and behold, they did find the voodoo cache, which included a stolen photo of the young fellow along with half-burned black candles, incense and feathers. The stuff was promptly burned, and the owners confronted the suspect, who confessed. The perpetrator’s pay was docked and he was informed that if he continued with such activities, he would be sacked.

Over the next few weeks, the young Tz’utujil man completely recovered. He was absolutely convinced that Maximón had saved his life, and from that day forward he never forgot to take a small offering of food, liquor or cigars to Maximón’s temple in Santiago Atitlán. Of course, I don’t believe any of this; nevertheless, it happened just as I have related.

Some years later, while staying at the same apartment complex, another strange series of events occurred. One evening there was a knock at my door. It was the wife of a prominent hotel owner from across the lake. I had known them for years. She said that her husband was in one of the other apartments and she wanted me to come and say hello to him. When I got to the room I was rather shocked by what I saw: The normally portly and jovial man had turned into a living skeleton. He was so weak that he could not even hold a telephone to his ear without help. I felt very, very bad for the guy.

They had seen all the doctors and even experts in the States and none could find out what was wrong with him. Suddenly, I got a bright idea. I knew a medical researcher in Guatemala City who loved nothing more than a good challenge. I told them that they should go see him. It was a Friday evening; they decided to see the doctor on Monday.

Long before this I had promised one of the Tz’utujil ladies who worked at the apartments that I would take her and her daughter to see the big Maximón temple at San Andrés Itzapa (near Chimaltenango). Her name was Candelaria Matzar and, being a devotee of Maximón, was very enthusiastic about the prospects of making a pilgrimage to Guatemala’s largest Maximón shrine. We determined to go there that very Sunday.

After a nice breakfast along the way at the Katok Restaurant in Tecpán, we proceeded to San Andrés Itzapa. As soon as we got to the temple, Candelaria went to work making prayers and offerings of candles of diverse colors, incense and tobacco. For the next few hours I enjoyed the show as she worked intensely. The atmosphere was welcoming; it felt like a family party.

The place was packed, and thousands of twinkling candles placed upon special tables gave the large hall a magical atmosphere. Women were puffing intently on huge cigars. Shaman were performing “cleansings,” which entail spitting aguardiente (firewater)on the subjects, even in their faces, and then whipping them with bundles of herbs. Mariachi musicians played as a long line of devotees filed up to get a closer look at Maximón who, looking resplendent sitting upon his throne, presided mutely over the entire affair. A man on the stairway leading up to the throne pulled out a liter bottle of Gallo beer, shook it up and showered the entire crowed with its contents to squeals of approval. It was one wild scene.

When my friends had finished with their ceremonies, we drove back to Sololá and Panajachel, making a stop along the way to visit the ancient Mayan citadel of Iximché. As we walked around the ruins I asked Candelaria about the rituals she had performed back at Maximón’s house. She related that she had been saying prayers on behalf of her daughter and specifically that the girl would do well in school. She had also asked Maximón for help to remove the sickness that was plaguing our friend. She said that since medical doctors had been unable to help the fellow, perhaps Maximón could. He is, she said, good with those kinds of things.

Later on that week I was surprised to see the hotel owner’s wife looking jubilant. What happened? I asked. She told me that they had gone to see the doctor I had recommended and, after several days of tests, he had finally detected the cause of the man’s illness and commenced with treatment, predicting a full recovery.

When I told Candelaria the good news, she was also very pleased. She confided that she was absolutely sure that it had been Maximón who had interceded on the man’s behalf. He often works like that, she said.

Red beads have long held a certain fascination not just here but around the world.

There are not a lot of words that have crossed over from Guatemala’s 22 indigenous languages into Spanish. One that has, huipil, actually comes from Nahua huipilli in Mexico and arrived in the early 16th century with the Nahuatl, who accompanied the Spaniards to Guatemala. A huipil is, of course, a woman’s blouse.

A second word is chachal, Quiché for necklace. The evolution of chachales in Guatemala is a fascinating tale of history, economics and anthropology. At the time of the Conquest, Guatemala’s indigenous prized red coral as component in necklaces. As easily recoverable near-shore coral became scarce, sharp traders, chiefly in Europe, manufactured substitutes and introduced them into Guatemala as trade goods. These were almost but not always red, apparently to satisfy taste here and elsewhere.

Red beads have long held a certain fascination not just here but around the world. As many as 2,000 years ago in early Aleppo in modern-day Syria, red carnelian stones were fashioned into beads worn by donkeys and said to protect the rider from the evil eye. They were subsequently made of red glass. The word morphed into cornaline d’aleppo, and came to Guatemala as perhaps the most famous trade bead that was once in common use in Guatemala.

Still manufactured today, chiefly in the Italian glass-making centers at Murano near Venice, red glass beads with a white center or “heart” made their way into Guatemalan chachales in place of coral. Hudson Bay Trading Company records in Canada show that 1.6 of these beads, also called white hearts, were exchangeable for a single beaver pelt.

Different areas of Guatemala adopted different colors of beads. The most striking example is the town of Patzún, where the indigenous prized and still wear blue beads.

As time went on in Guatemala, different areas of Guatemala adopted different colors of beads. The most striking example is the town of Patzún in Chimaltenango, where the indigenous prized and still wear blue beads, the early ones of which are known to bead collectors as “Patzún blues.” When and how these beads were introduced into and became standard apparel in Patzún is not recorded. (Fascination with blue-eyed Spaniards?) But the earliest Patzún beads would appear to be—judging by their style of manufacture—from the 16th to 18th century.

Another distinctive bead arrived, probably in the 19th century, from Gujarat, India. Called Coca Cola beads by collectors by virtue of their green glass color, these beads were hand fashioned and pierced when hot with a nail, which accounts for the tapered hole in each bead. When beads began to be machine produced in Gablonice in today’s Czech Republic, white beads became popular in Guatemala in the mid to late 19th century. The Gablonice beads, again still manufactured today, are instantly recognizable by the distinct lines that appear on the circle about where the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn would be on the Earth.

Sharp-eyed collectors can still find early beads in Guatemala, and each necklace tells a tale. It is probably not a constant or original tale of style and bead arrangement, since monofilament line is a recent invention, and beads were strung and restrung constantly. Likewise, as the fortunes of wearers changed, it is reasonable to think that silver was removed to be spent in time of need and added during times of prosperity. Many of the coins found in necklaces today come from an “unfortunate” period of Guatemala’s coinage history. When the government abandoned the silver standard at the turn of the 20th century, it began minting nickel copies of silver coins. When trading nations refused to deal with Guatemala, these beads became essentially worthless and made their way popularly into chachales.

Most of the silver coins passed off today as original are counterfeit. The bubbly surface is the tip-off since early coinage was struck, not poured into a bubble-producing mold.

As the 20th century arrived, mass-produced beads from China and elsewhere came into Guatemala, again most often red in color. In addition, since world travel soared after World War II, beads have made their way from and to strange places, including Africa. Blame the Peace Corps and backpackers for Guatemala’s straying from the traditional coral, red glass and coins.

Note: The author, cited in most bead reference works, wrote the benchmark studies on glass beads in Guatemalan chachales in the late 1970s. If a reader has a question or comment, or would like an opinion on the source and age of a bead, send your photo to gmg977@yahoo.com

The Mayan Center, a residential high school being built on a mountaintop in the rainforest of northwest Guatemala, will serve two dozen villages.

Mission: To empower the Mayan people of northwest Guatemala by providing training and resources so they may develop improved education, health, and economic conditions in their communities.

Past Achievements: AAV has completed more than 60 major projects, including building nine primary schools, and providing support for middle schools serving a dozen villages. AAV also has built water systems and roads and run health programs.

Students learn dental hygiene skills in the village of San Juan Tutlac through one of the Adopt-a-Village vocational programs.

Wish List: Sponsorships and financial support: Scholarships for Mayan Center students; funds for food, clothing and medical help for widows and orphans.

Other Assistance: Volunteer carpenters, general contractors, and cabinet makers.

To learn more and view a video of the organization, visit www.adoptavillage.com or email: guatvillage@aol.com.

Ballet Folklórico dancers perform a dance of symbolic rebirth (photo: Georgeann Johnson)

Written by Elizabeth Hart – photos: Georgeann Johnson

It may be difficult to find friends and family outside of Guatemala who know much about the Mayan calendar. But here, the calendar—and especially the significance of its end date in 2012—are regular topics of conversation, as Guatemala’s ancient history was likely a part of the original intrigue for many of us. So strong is the interest in the Mayan calendar that more than 1,200 people—including international ambassadors and consuls, 52 Maya spiritual guides and representatives from over a dozen museums and universities of Guatemala—converged at Casa Santo Domingo on Aug. 23 for the conference La Profecía Maya 2012. Far from the fringe, conference participants represented a cross-section of people from a global movement for change based on indigenous wisdom.

The conference’s aim, underscored by archaeologist Mary Lou Ridinger, was to explore the link between the Mayan ball game, the creation myth found in the Popol Vuh, carvings from the site of Izapa and the galactic alignment set to occur on December 21st, 2012, the end of the 5,125-year Mayan Long Count calendar.

Author John Major Jenkins, who headlined the list of speakers, is part of a community with an emerging interest in the Mayan’s cyclical, holistic method of keeping time—a method that illuminates the pairing of life on earth and life in the cosmos.

The sophisticated Mayan Long Count calendar not only tracks days and groups of days, but also “Great Cycles”—large cycles of time that recognize the stages of humanity’s collective growth. According to the Mayan Long Count calendar, the year 2012 marks the end of one of these great cycles of time and the birth of a new World Age.

Today, our everyday perceptions are based on our use of the inherited Gregorian calendar, and so placing ourselves within the scope of Mayan time requires a dose of radical thinking—the same kind of radical thinking that allowed the ancient populations of Mesoamerica to undergo a paradigm shift that would come to define an entire civilization.

In fact, it took hundreds of years for the pre-Maya at Izapa to shift their beliefs about the cosmos and to gather astronomical calculations that would culminate in the creation of the Long Count calendar. Twenty years of research has led Jenkins to find that ancient Mayan astronomy, mythology, symbolism, prophecy and spirituality evolved side by side to form a profound vision of the future. That future is our present, the end of the Long Count calendar. This time, our time, was codified within the very creation myth of the Maya at Izapa, says Jenkins.

Izapa is a small ceremonial site in southwestern Chiapas, Mexico, where Jenkins has spent years studying the well-intact thrones, stelae and ball court. Here, dedicated sky watchers and shaman-astronomers collected data, based on observation, that led to the discovery of the precession of the equinoxes—the phenomenon of our planet’s wobble on its axis. The ancient Izapans predicted a precessional cycle to be 25,626 years, and modern astronomers, using advanced computer technology, agree.

The discovery of the Earth’s wobble, and its observable result in the sky, caused ancient astronomers to completely re-think their relationship to the cosmos, which previously revolved around a Polar God, represented by the Pole star. The new paradigm recognized the center of the universe to be a dark rift in the center of the Milky Way galaxy.

To shift their belief regarding who or what was the very center of the universe required an unparalleled degree of open-mindedness. But once the Izapans had made their case, it wasn’t long until word spread throughout the Mayan world, and the new calendar, based on a future astronomical event became the center of Maya life and spirituality. The event was set to take place on the day we call December 21, 2012.

To further explain the significance of the calendar end-date, the conference welcomed independent researcher Georgeann Johnson. Johnson offered a profound look at the Mayan ball game as a symbol for the astronomical alignment of 2012. According to Ms. Johnson, the Mayan ball court, such as the one found at Izapa, is a structural representation of the Milky Way. The game is played with a rubber or stone ball, and when this ball (symbolic of the sun) passes through the goal ring, the game is won.

The game, an integral part of Maya life, referred to none other than the events of December 21, 2012 when the solstice sun will rise, and pass through the Milky Way’s central dark rift. Ms. Johnson went on to note that the game itself is also a metaphor for the transformation of human consciousness that begins with the next World Age. “The story of the Maya ball game is a story of being on a team,” she said. “Each of us has a responsibility to show up at the global round table of the common good.”

Maya spiritual guide Aq’ab’al (Aurelio Sajvin) shared with participants his knowledge of the Mayan concept of time. He reminded us that the essence of understanding Mayan time is a spiritual wellness on an individual level. He pointed out that in today’s world, we frequently find ourselves “bumping into each other, looking for a flat road to where we are going” and that in order to truly understand Mayan time, we must first become “energetically well.”

The implication that the collective energy is somehow unwell or diseased is a widespread concern of those involved in the movement to reclaim indigenous wisdom. Perhaps, too, the wisdom encoded in the Mayan calendar is threatened by time itself, by what Aq’ab’al called the “flat road,” or linear time’s tendency to have us look at life on Earth as a series of events, some destructive and others triumphant, that simply unfold before us indefinitely. This straight road to the future strips us of our imaginative power.

I don’t believe that our brains have devolved or that a way of life informed by indigenous wisdom is out of reach. I do think that, like the Izapans, we have the ability to shatter long-held belief systems in order to make room for new ones. It’s equally important to remember that the ancient Maya, who lacked artificial technologies to collect and interpret the natural world, were armed with a type of human intuition that is extremely difficult for us to imagine. And during these few short years approaching 2012, we will find out if this lack of imagination will lead us away from the wisdom left by the Maya—that every possibility of human experience is a story that has already been told in by the cosmos.