In Too Deep by Sherryl Woods Page A

truth, there was no hostility from the others. When Cara approached, the leader gestured for her to sit, then began speaking slowly. She was able to understand some of what he said, but she looked to Rod for a translation. He was able to fill in some of the gaps.
    â€œHe says that this will not be the first time the government has paid no attention to the Lacandones’ wishes. The government tells them go here, go there. It is the way of the world. He says when the government wished to buy the mahogany trees, he tried to explain they were not his to sell. They were put here by the gods, not man. Still, the trees were cut down. People came who did not understand the land. They have destroyed it.”
    Cara watched the man’s eyes as he spoke and saw the sorrow, the resignation. He reminded her of the American Indians, whose lands were lost to a civilization they didn’t understand.
    â€œWill he fight?”
    Rod asked the question for her, then listened to the response before saying, “He says there would be no point.”
    â€œBut where will his people go?”
    Apparently Señor Castillo sensed her compassion, because for the first time his expressionless face creased with a faint smile.
    â€œHe says they will do as they have always done. They will move on to the next place. They are few, their needs are slight, and it is still a big forest.”
    Suddenly Rod seemed surprised by something the man said. “He asks if you would like to see the land they farm.”
    Cara nodded with enthusiasm, though she feared another slash-and-burn piece of farmland. “Of course.”
    Proudly the men led them to land that had been cultivated in tune with the rain forest. Cara’s eyes widened at the variety of crops they found. Corn, rice, pineapple, limes, oranges, avocados and tobacco flourished. Here there was no evidence of the destructive slash-and-burn technique. She asked about it.
    â€œThat is the way of the newcomers who know nothing of the land,” Rod translated. Cara was able to detect the bitterness in the Lacandones’s voice. “He says they have been able to farm the same land over and over because they understand it and respect it. As a result the gods are kind and their harvest is bountiful.”
    â€œTell him I am impressed,” Cara said in Spanish, hoping that Señor Castillo would understand enough of the words to hear her enthusiasm.
    This time the man’s smile was wide. He offered them food before they continued on their journey. Over the meal he told them of the Mayan legends and gods.
    â€œWe pray to Hachäkyum to watch over us and heal us. This is the traditional way. We also have Känänk’ash, the Lord of the Forest, and K’ak, the Lord of Fire. Yaxchilan and Palenque are the ceremonial sites of our religion. We continue to make pilgrimages there to show the gods we have not forgotten them, even as the world around us changes.”
    â€œBut Yaxchilan would be lost if the dam were constructed,” Cara said with a sudden feeling of dismay.
    â€œIt may make the gods very angry,” he responded simply. “Perhaps if we light incense and make foods for the gods, they will understand. We will hear their answers if we listen well to the wind.”
    It was with the disquieting sense that she might be a party to the further destruction of a gentle way of life that Cara said goodbye.
    Señor Castillo looked into her eyes and Cara had the feeling that he could see into her soul. “You will do no harm,” he said quietly. “I believe that you are a kindred spirit.”
    His faith weighed on her. As they prepared to leave, the woman they had seen earlier approached and shyly offered her one of the clay figures.
    â€œGracias,” Cara said, touched by the gesture. “Es muy bonita.”
    Then she noticed the woman staring at the red bandanna knotted around her neck. She took it off and held it out. The woman