La Llorona

So, there's this legend (Mexican, I believe) about a woman who weeps down by the riverside. People hear her weeping in the lapping of the current, but she seldom appears to them in her full physical form. She has lost something or someone that she's seeking. Her tears, her lament are inconsolable.

At the end of a 2-hour long conversation with Yucatec maya shaman Beatrice Waight today, she said to me, "I think it was you who called out to me from the river, but I didn't know you. I kept trying to find out who you were, but you wouldn't appear. Perhaps now here you are."

This was a dream she had last night. The metaphor of La Llorona was not lost to me in her dream-story. Was I crying?, I wanted to ask, but I didn't. Perhaps it's a question for another time. Perhaps it's not important, for if it was me, I did not remain invisible. I sought her out today.

I almost didn't go. Just as with the Garcia Sisters, I had not made contact with her before now, and it would take some searching to locate her. I sent an email this morning, asking for an appointment, but it bounced back right after I sent it. So, I knew the only way I would get to her was if I just went searching. I knew that she was in or around Santa Familia, a little town on Bullet Tree road, on the way out to Spanish Lookout, where there is a large Mennonite community. I hired a taxi both ways for $15 US to take me out, wait for me, take me back. I was surprised to find someone willing to do it.

After inquiring at a couple of houses in Santa Familia (and receiving contradictory information -- which always seems par for the course in Belize...everyone knows the answer, but it's always different from everyone else's information), I stumbled upon a little house set far back from the road. Greeted by no less that 8 dogs (there were seriously too many to count), I was surrounded by the aroma of tamales being prepared for a today's holy day festivities, in honor of La Virgen Guadelupe, and lots of big, broad mayan smiles. There were more family members than dogs, and they all were so welcoming in their greeting, ushering me into the house and to Beatrice.

I found her reclining on a couch in her front room, having had surgery only a few days before and suffering from "bad blood" which I learned later was a very late diagnosis of diabetes. She was eager to talk and chat, somehow lonely in a house full of loved ones and food preparations. She devoted herself to a very long initial conversation, which thrilled me. I am finding some similarities in aspects and preparations for healing rituals between the three women I've talked to, and surprisingly, not many contradictions, which seems to be the only thing you can count on in Belize.

I've also been noting that it's very hard to get specific in directing my questions in ways that will produce substantive answers. I'm finding that the greatest success I've had in this is with Rosario, due largely to the fact, I believe, that she and I have a previous relationship, and she's more open and willing to get down to business. Especially with Beatrice, her advanced age makes tangential topics common points of departure in conversation. And, I think she wants me to get to know HER. Otherwise, she's speaking abstractly (what I imagine must be her opinion) about practices and conditions.

There was some good information to be collected, and I am eternally thankful for my patience and resolve. They have gotten me much farther than I've imagined I'd be after learning of the passings of Byron Foster (whose book on Garifuna possession I found in the public library here today after much searching) and Palacio on the Hummingbird Hwy. But, I have found the need to step back, step back because it is all too much, too fast for these new relationships I am forming. I want to let them cultivate over time.

Beatrice urged me to consider apprentice with her in a shamatic ritual treatment, which sounded amazing. I will continue to inquire about this. She is a beautiful, old, seventh-generation maya soul, and if it were me in her dream, I would be honored.

There have been little spirits prancing about in my room at Martha's: caps off bottles, shades closed and opened, light switched flicked...it is the maids, certainly, but I wonder...it is curious. And delicious.

I will sift through the accounts I've recorded so far to see how to proceed. I meet again tomorrow with Rosario.

la llorona llora