The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) by Leonide Martin Page B
Authors: Leonide Martin
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of the mundane type. With an inward grimace, he reflected again that the “shameless couple” dance often depicted on pottery or murals perfectly captured his character: An old man cavorts with what appears to be a young woman wearing an entirely feminine costume, but without breasts. The younger is a male two-spirit enacting a woman’s role. The explicitly sexual postures and leering expression of the old man make it clear theirs is a profane act, having nothing to do with spiritual or transformational ceremonies.
Although this cross-gender role was accepted within Maya society, Uc Ayin felt a subtle discrimination. He had never married, finding he preferred male sexual partners exclusively. This set him apart, for he had no family and children as did most two-spirits. And because his life had produced nothing particularly useful for others, nor had he received much artistic recognition, he perceived a muted judgment among his peers.
Dissatisfaction crept more deeply into his bones with the evening chill.
Camping on the wet banks along the river further darkened his mood. The small campfire built by the paddler barely warmed his hands, and the cold maize cakes offered little satisfaction. His sister needed to produce a very good reason for requesting this visit.
The next day the canoe arrived at the modest town of Sak Tz’i as daylight began to wane. Paying the paddler, Uc Ayin hoisted his damp pack over his shoulder and trudged up the bank along muddy paths lined by wooden-walled, thatched huts until he reached the central plaza with surrounding stone buildings and a modest pyramid temple. Across the plaza he recognized his sister’s form hurrying toward him. After their initial embrace and greeting, he was surprised to see how she had aged. She clasped his arm and led him to her modest dwelling several lanes distant from the plaza.
“How many times has the sun made its passage since last we met?” Uc Ayin asked. Now that he was in dry clothing and finally the chill had left his limbs, his mood improved as he sat sipping hot maize laced with cacao at his sister’s hearth.
“Ten, perhaps twelve sun passages,” replied Manik. Her family house was small, having three interconnected rooms with the entrance facing a shared patio. It was a typical stone and plaster one story structure that served the modest needs of minor ahauob families. Manik’s husband had died several years earlier, but Uc Ayin did not attend the transition rites, for which he felt a twinge of shame. She now lived alone, her only daughter’s husband having fulfilled his marriage obligation by working several years for his wife’s family. Now the couple lived in Nututun in a house built adjoining the husband’s family structure. Manik lived alone, a marginal widow given occasional assistance by cousins.
“Are you well?” Sliding his eyes toward his sister, Uc Ayin gauged her age was approaching 60 solar years, quite elder for most elite Mayas. Her hunched posture and loose skin bespoke advanced age, though her deeply sunken eyes still sparked with life.
“As you see,” she said, spreading her hands. “I am old, but my health is good. You are looking well. Has life been good for you these years in Lakam Ha?”
“There is little of which I can complain,” he demurred, surprising himself with the truth in this statement. A meaningless, disappointing life with little to complain about.
“Tell me things of your life, your city, your holy rulers the K’uhul B’aakal Ahauob.”
Uc Ayin spun a few tales about court life, the ruler’s art and music interests, the precocity of the only Bahlam descendent, Janaab Pakal. He off-handedly mentioned his solitary existence, understanding that his sister knew of his two-spirit nature. Having passed an appropriate time in such pleasantries, he asked about her summons.
“It appears all is well with you and your family, sister, so why have you requested this visit from me?”
She smiled
Although this cross-gender role was accepted within Maya society, Uc Ayin felt a subtle discrimination. He had never married, finding he preferred male sexual partners exclusively. This set him apart, for he had no family and children as did most two-spirits. And because his life had produced nothing particularly useful for others, nor had he received much artistic recognition, he perceived a muted judgment among his peers.
Dissatisfaction crept more deeply into his bones with the evening chill.
Camping on the wet banks along the river further darkened his mood. The small campfire built by the paddler barely warmed his hands, and the cold maize cakes offered little satisfaction. His sister needed to produce a very good reason for requesting this visit.
The next day the canoe arrived at the modest town of Sak Tz’i as daylight began to wane. Paying the paddler, Uc Ayin hoisted his damp pack over his shoulder and trudged up the bank along muddy paths lined by wooden-walled, thatched huts until he reached the central plaza with surrounding stone buildings and a modest pyramid temple. Across the plaza he recognized his sister’s form hurrying toward him. After their initial embrace and greeting, he was surprised to see how she had aged. She clasped his arm and led him to her modest dwelling several lanes distant from the plaza.
“How many times has the sun made its passage since last we met?” Uc Ayin asked. Now that he was in dry clothing and finally the chill had left his limbs, his mood improved as he sat sipping hot maize laced with cacao at his sister’s hearth.
“Ten, perhaps twelve sun passages,” replied Manik. Her family house was small, having three interconnected rooms with the entrance facing a shared patio. It was a typical stone and plaster one story structure that served the modest needs of minor ahauob families. Manik’s husband had died several years earlier, but Uc Ayin did not attend the transition rites, for which he felt a twinge of shame. She now lived alone, her only daughter’s husband having fulfilled his marriage obligation by working several years for his wife’s family. Now the couple lived in Nututun in a house built adjoining the husband’s family structure. Manik lived alone, a marginal widow given occasional assistance by cousins.
“Are you well?” Sliding his eyes toward his sister, Uc Ayin gauged her age was approaching 60 solar years, quite elder for most elite Mayas. Her hunched posture and loose skin bespoke advanced age, though her deeply sunken eyes still sparked with life.
“As you see,” she said, spreading her hands. “I am old, but my health is good. You are looking well. Has life been good for you these years in Lakam Ha?”
“There is little of which I can complain,” he demurred, surprising himself with the truth in this statement. A meaningless, disappointing life with little to complain about.
“Tell me things of your life, your city, your holy rulers the K’uhul B’aakal Ahauob.”
Uc Ayin spun a few tales about court life, the ruler’s art and music interests, the precocity of the only Bahlam descendent, Janaab Pakal. He off-handedly mentioned his solitary existence, understanding that his sister knew of his two-spirit nature. Having passed an appropriate time in such pleasantries, he asked about her summons.
“It appears all is well with you and your family, sister, so why have you requested this visit from me?”
She smiled
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