Fresh Medicine, Iguana Eggs and Monkeys

Since I last wrote, I have gone on many adventures: I saw Aktun Tunich Muknal Cave, which is the most spectacular cave in Belize, and a site of human sacrifice to the gods of the underworld (the site became most active during a time of turmoil for the Mayans that archaeologists find somewhat mytifying. For some reason, they were trying to appease the Gods in order to save their way of life -- I think). We had to wade through water that ranged from ankle deep to chest high for about a mile into the cave, where we climbed into a "dry chamber" and had to remove our shoes in order not to disturb the texture of the cave floor. There lied clay pottery and human remains (bones), which many of the people on the trip found eerie. Me on the other hand, am kind of hard to spook. I have somehow learned to dismiss most of my fears, which may or may not be a good thing . . .
Recently I made a new friend, Teddy, a knowledgeable young "man of the jungle." He is a native Belizean who is a licensed tour guide and has taken it upon himself to introduce me to a local herbalist, to lead me side by side through the scenic terrain, and has given me my first cup of "bitters" (a tea comprised of local herbs/vines/barks meant to cleanse and build the blood, purge the digestive system of harmful bacteria and parasites, and immune the body from pathogens in general) -- free of charge. The first day that I hung out with him, he took me to a medicine man, Humberto --a healthy old clay-like Mayan man -- in a place called Bullet Tree Falls. Humberto has a "medicine trail" that he leads people through to educate them about the medicinal properties of various plants, trees, and vines. I was very fortunate to have met him, because at that time, my feet were severely bitten up and swollen from ant and mosquito bites. I could not walk down the street without people wincing at that sight of them (that's when I met Teddy). Humberto showed me the Poly Redhead plant, and picked a few handfuls of the leaves, which he proceeded to crush into a paste using two stones -- one large and flat, the other small and round. After I watched him do it for a few minutes, he handed me the small stone and told me to try. The trick is to roll the stone down the length of the plant (out towards the stems) while pressing hard, to release the juice. After about fifteen minutes, I had about a cup of the pulverized plant, which I rubbed over all exposed and affected areas of my body. Basically, I painted myself green from head to toe, while Teddy watched in amusement, pleased that I was educating myself about the secrets of the jungle. I immediately felt the effects. Not only was it soothing, but it was energizing as well. I wanted to get up and move my body, to release stagnant energy from my system. This made Humberto chuckle to himself a little bit. This was FRESH medicine, medicine with LIFE FORCE, rich in oxygen. This experience reinforced all my trust in the plant kingdom. Humberto left me with a bag big enough to last me a few days, and I continued to apply it until the swelling drastically decreased. I am still using it (there's actually a big plant growing at Smith's Farm where I live), and am almost completely healed.
The next day, we went with a small group to an organic farm in secluded, highland jungle, home to howler and spider monkeys, jaguars, tapirs, and a diverse variety of birds including the tucan. Here, I had my first taste of iguana eggs. I have never tasted anything SO DELICIOUS as iguana eggs!!! They are small and dense, completely yellow in the middle, and have a sharp taste like cheddar. We spent a couple nights there in thatched roof cabins, burning fires in the night to keep warm, and taking short hikes into the bush where Sabala (the guy who owns the farm) educated us about the flora and fauna.
After our return from the jungle, Teddy and I, along with a couple girls from the East coast of the U.S. that Teddy agreed to guide through the country (because he is fluent in Spanish), crossed the Guatemalan border to reach Tikal, one of the most impressive Mayan cities in Central America. There were a lot of tourists there. To be honest, I didn't really start enjoying myself until we started walking the trail to "Temple V," a path that tour guides often avoid due to its long length and isolation from the rest of the park. It is not uncommon for people to get robbed or mugged. Unfortunately, we weren't carrying any machetes. Here, for the first time (thanks to Teddy's keen eye) I saw my first spider and howler monkeys. When we first spotted the spider monkeys, they were hanging out at the top of some tall trees. Teddy made some crazy monkey sounds, which galvanized them to race across one of the extended branches, making the whole tree stir and causing a shower of leaves. This greatly scared one of the girls, Kim, who almost took off running when I dropped my water bottle (she thought it was a monkey coming to chase after her). Soon after, we came to the howlers, who were a bit more tranquil. We saw a mother with two or three babies, climbing near the top of the canopy (they generally stay high ion the trees, especially when it's cold out). After reaching Temple V, we were met with an old Mayan man asked me: "Piensas mucho, porque que?" (You think a lot, why?") And I just said: "Si, yo sabe, piensa mucho, todos las dias, todos los veces." (I don't even know if I said that right -- I said: "Yes, I know, I think a lot, everyday, all the time.") (Everyday it seems, someone notices how pensive I am and tells me I need not worry about anything. That I should just enjoy myself.)
The drive back home was amazing, as usual. I have never so much enjoyed the scenery of any place. In both Guatemala and Belize, there are rolling hillsides, blanketed in dense forest and shrubbery, a continual green disturbed only by the areas of the land which have been clearcut or slashed and burned (which, sadly, is not uncommon. Many people own pasture land).
The best way I can think of to describe the land is that it's like a young child, somewhat out of control, beautiful and exciting in its spontaneity and lack of order. Even when people plant their own monocultures, like corn, the rows are usuallly not perfectly straight, as we are so accustomed to with the practices of multi-national corporations. Things here are loose, the rules are not so stringent. As the sun went down, I fell asleep and remained so until our return back to the island of Flores.
Back in San Ignacio, I am continually meeting people who want to "show me around," who want to invite me to their village and have me meet their families, who want to introduce me to areas of the land I have not yet seen. My time here will soon come to an end, and here I know I have a third home (California the first, Hawaii the second). If I ever want to live here, I know exactly who will build my house (the guys who I helped build the bathroom and septic tank with), where I will buy land (Steven told me he would love to have me be part of a type of cooperative he wants to create), who I will study under when I want to learn the medicine of the bush (either Mr. Pollo, a local bush doctor who has a certification program, or Sabala if I want to do it less formally and in less structured of a way). Not that I will necessarily be LIVING here anytime soon on a permanent basis, but I know that if I decide to, there are plenty of people and places ready to accomodate me.
Next stop in early February: Santa Cruz, California. I'm not looking forward to the rain, but it's time to see the good friends who I have missed for some time now. I need to touch base. After a few weeks there, I am probably going to return to Hawaii to resume my days of enjoyable hard (and not so hard) work as I bask in an abundance of organic, whole food that I have OH SO GREATLY missed. I was in a solid groove when I left and want to continue it in some way, shape, or form. As far as I know, the farm I was staying at is no more, because while I was there, the owner was busted for growing medicinal marijuana, which the Bishop of State has no tolerance for. So that's one of my next adventures -- starting over in Hawaii-land.