Jose Marcelo contemplated this from a distance. Until this moment, he was expecting to be informed. When the door of the main house, he understood. He made his make shift bed under the bed and lay down to steep.

Jose Marcelo slept soundly under the leafy "yaxche". His bag of clothes was his pillow. The crowing of the roosters in the first instants of dawn woke him from his dreams. He threw off the cotton sheet and stretched out his numbed legs and back, and moved the stiff muscles of his neck.

He stood up in the semi-darkness trying to see through the light morning mist in the town’s square. The sensation of hunger in his stomach reminded him that it had been more than three days since he had eaten a hot meal, except for the coffee two days before in Tihosuco on the morning before he left. Soon the square came back to life; the hens ran around, celebrating the new day while the roosters sang to the dawn. The chirps and song of the birds in the nearby trees harmonized pleasantly and in the distance at a few mecates from the town, the "chachalacas" liven up the countryside. Dogs, pigs and other domestic animals wander around the square and the nearby streets.

The first women came out with their water jugs, going toward the cenote next to the willow tree with discreet curiosity, they looked at the intruder, laughing among themselves over some comment that Marcelo hasn't been able to hear.

In a few minutes, an animated conversation around the cenote was carried on in the middle of the squeaking of the pulleys and ropes pulled vigorously by brown arms. The buckets filled the water jugs a few minutes later Jose Marcelo saw the "baatab" come out of his house accompanied by two indians. He watched them as he came toward him.

" Good morning" he greeted them as they approached him. After a short pause the "baatab" spoke in Maya.

" My decision is this: we will not push you out from the town, but you will not receive any help from anybody unless it is his will to help you.

You are forbidden to look for our people and ask for help or to ask for or buy food; if you do not conform with this, you will have to leave our town".

Without waiting for an answer the chief turned his back followed by his companions; he didn't respond to the grateful expression of the professor.

Jose Marcelo was aware of the delicacy of the situation. They hadn't kicked him out of town, but how would he be able to stay here without food? He only had some crackers and some canned food, stretching it; it would last a few days, where would he sleep? Where would he bathe, and where would he keep his things?

The first thing to do was to eat; his stomach was growling. He went to the cenote where the women were drawing water, these, when they saw him coming took their jugs and buckets and hurried back to their homes.

Marcelo saw that there still was a rope and a bucket near the cenote would he dare use it? What else could he do?

In a few seconds, he was taking the fresh, clear water and rinsing his head and face. He would have to build at least a shade while he erected a grass hut with palm roof. He picked up his machete and took an axe head from among his clothes.

Leaving his things among the roots of the tree, he walked to the edge of town to look for firewood and a place to build his house.

While he walked he sharpened his machete with a limestone, the first thing that he had to do was fit a handle to the axe. After a few moments, he went into the bush on a path, after carefully choosing the wood for the axe handle; he attacked energetically a small trunk.

The sound of the machete broke the silence of the morning. In a few minutes he had wood for the axe handle and dry firewood.

After he ate, Jose Marcelo decided to dedicate a couple of hours to see the area around Tok'tuunich.

He calculated that the town had about 30 houses with 150 or 200 inhabitants. He didn't see any available space in the town to build his school, so he chose a small hill to the east of town. The rest of the morning he spent clearing a "mecate" of land where there were only two ramon trees and an old oak. At the foot of his, he built a "stove" to cook his food, but where would he get food to cook? If he only had a shotgun it wouldn't be hard to get meat, there were plenty of animals around from what he had seen on his way to the village. But he really had to get beans, corns, salt coffee, sugar and other indispensable foodstuffs. He would have to go back to Tihosuco to buy supplies.

He hadn't thought of that, and what about water? He remembered the bucket abandoned at the cenote was it for common use? Was its owner out of town? He didn't know what to think. For whatever reason that the bucket had been there, he hoped that it would stay there, other wise he would have a serious problem with the water.

How could a simple thing like a bucket be such a big problem?

The sun was high in the sky when the professor crossed the square.

It was mid-day, it was the siesta time, even the animals weren't moving, resting in the shade of the trees of the gardens. The cenote was quiet.

The bucket was still there. Marcelo was glad of that. In a few moments he was quenching his thirst and filling a gourd so he would have drinking water all day. At the foot of the tree, his things lay as he had left them.

From the moment he left them, he had been sure that nobody would touch them.

He sat on the ground and rested his head on the old trunk, and dozed lightly. He would be able to have only two meals a day to ration his deleted supply of food.

That afternoon, Jose Marcelo rested physically. His mind, however, didn't have an instant of rest. He was trying to think of a solution to his problems; after a lot of deliberation, he decided to stay two days to get to know the town and clearing the lot and cutting the sticks to made his house school. On the third day he would go back to Tihosuco for his things, merchandise and utensils.

At sun-set, while he was going over his supplies he watched the women at the edge of the cenote and the men as they came back from the milpas, seeing the children he remembered his childhood, his father's hacienda, his mother as she drew water from the well.

In his mind he remembered those scenes, and felt that he was among his own people. It was like a call of his blood.

He didn't doubt for a moment that he should stay among these people, who were his own kind. At nightfall, he made his bed at he foot of the willow tree and soon he was fast asleep in spite of the hard ground.

The next day before dawn, Jose Marcelo, with his rope and his axe on his shoulder, refreshed his face with a bucket of water from the cenote, and went to the edge of town. When it was light enough in the woods, he went into a part that looked right; further from town he would have trouble hauling the wood. He would have to select strong wood but that he could manage alone.

He chose a good trunk for a corner; first of the four that he needed and he attacked it with energy after marking it around the trunk. His back muscles contracted rhythmically as he drove the silence off the morning and the echo got lost in the leaves and trees.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of other axe blows a few meters away, about a mecate. He heard it again; he stopped his work and looked into the brush in the direction of the noise, and he saw, without a doubt the silhouette of the young indian he had met in Tihosuco. He couldn't control his impulse. He put down his axe at the foot of the tree and went toward him.

When he was just a few feet away, Jacinto stopped his work and waited. Their eyes met and a spontaneous feeling of friendship invaded both of them without a word, Jacinto leaned toward his "sabucan" and carefully took out some ""pimo’ob" wrapped in a cotton napkin and poured out white corn meal drink still hot and steaming. He offered it to the professor, who took it with an expression of good will and friendship in Maya and without saying more he drank the corn drink, and it gave him a feeling of well being in his stomach; the "pimo’ob" were lard "pimo’ob", They were very tasty. Jacinto remained silent while he watched.

When the professor finished his "atole", Jacinto said: "Do you want a little more?

I have enough, I brought it for you" after a pause, he went on,

"You must be hungry, I've only seen you eat crackers and canned food"

The bucket and the rope belonged to this young Indian. He remembered the way he had looked at him that day in the store in Tihosuco, on the way out of a town that day, in the square after the conference with the "baatab", without a doubt, this was his first friend.

He drank deeply of the corn meal drink and enjoyed the "pimo’ob".

The heat of the drink slightly burned his stomach, but the sensation felt nice after a few seconds. While he ate, he looked at the young indian. He was about his same age, he thought. He was the average height of the Mayans. His broad shoulders and well-developed muscles were apparent through his coarse cotton shirt. His uncovered head revealed a wider forehead than his brothers, slightly slanted and dark eyes, and black, black hair, which long and straight was a little messy, high cheek bones, a slightly aquiline nose, and when he smiled he showed his white even teeth. He wore a gold earring in one ear.

However, the most impressive thing, was his sincere look that revealed his nobility. Marcelo felt a deep gratitude to Jacinto, a gratitude that would seal a friendship that would be life long.

"Thanks", repeated the professor in Maya; you can imagine what this means to me. What's your name? "My name is Marcelo May; my mother is "maasewaal" Marcelo emphasized these last words.

"My name is Jacinto Ek. I am from this town as is all of my family. He spoke as he offered more food.

"I have seen everything you have done since you came to our town, and you haven't eaten well so I offer you this so you will feel stronger for work, because as I can see, first you will build your house.

Marcelo finished eating and rinsed his mouth with water from his gourd. He took out of his shirt pocket; the pack of cigarettes and offered one to Jacinto. "Do you smoke?"

Jacinto accepted the cigarette and examined it carefully.

"I smoke very little, and it usually is raw tobacco. Have you smoked raw tobacco?"

Marcelo smiled before he answered "In school we only smoked "raw tobacco" and not always of good quality."

After a little Jacinto answered "What size do you want to make your house?

Because you have to choose your wood accordingly. This corner post you selected, is very big for a house just for you."

"No, it is not too big; I won't just live there, I will teach the children of this town in it, and there seem to be a lot of kids, so the bigger the better, and you, are you cutting sticks for a house too?

Jacinto smiled. "Did you think you could haul these trunks by yourself? Let’s go, soon the sun will be hot; you can't work at noon during this season.

Without waiting for an answer, Jacinto turned toward the tree that he was leaning against. Soon the rhythm of the blows of his axe against the trees blended with Marcelo's.

Two days later, the professor, with no more load than his food left for Tihosuco. He wasn't surprised to find Jacinto outside of town with a mule. He explained in detail the way so that Marcelo wouldn't lose his way. Marcelo promised to be back within a week with his belongings, that he had left in Tihosuco.

When the young teacher entered the store, where he had left his things, the storekeeper couldn't believe his eyes.

"You must have a pact with the devil or God protects you, Professor, because you are the first to go in that blessed town," said the storekeeper, gesturing and crossing himself repeatedly.

"Don't tell me that you have come to get your things to go back there because, by God I wouldn't believe you " he exclaimed.

Marcelo smiled satisfied to hear him. In a short story, he told him his adventures and asked for lodgings for one day while he got his energy back from the long walk. He gave the storekeeper a list of merchandize and utensils that he wanted to take back to Tok'tuunich.

The presence of the rural teacher in the town produced a big impact on the inhabitants. The chief reflected on the consequences of his decisions.

He was worried about the intruder who had the courage to stay in the place where he had been so hostilely treated.

Jacinto's attitude, which was the exception until now, surprised him and although his first impulse was to punish him, he remember that Jacinto hadn't gone against his elders since he had ordered that nobody help the teacher except of his own free will. He never thought that any body would ever try to help him.

As far as the other things, wasn't his judgment premature? Could this white man take the isolation from other whites? The shaman of great ascendance before the people asked him, almost ordered him to expel the teacher from the town. He even suggested using magic resources to do it.

The old men of the counsel were indignant and although they openly talked against the teacher, they didn't dare to challenge the authority of the "baatab".

It was theme of the women's conversation, not only at the cenote, also in the streets and in their own homes.

Jacinto felt the effects more violently. He saw the reproach of his blood brothers, not only in the faces of the older ones whose expression showed their anger, but also in the indirect remarks of his companions and his family members. His parents criticized that friendship, pointing out the consequence that it could have for the family. His wife was the only one who didn’t reproach him. Because she loved him, she forgave everything. He spent sleepless hours thinking about it, and going over the events a thousand times. He tried not to justify his friendship with Marcelo and his decision to help him.

Their friendship grew every day. They spent every free moment together since then, they worked on the house or in the woods and they did it happily without getting tired, cultivating more and more that spontaneous and sincere affection. Jacinto was amazed at the things Marcelo told him and his limitless curiosity never got bored. From the beginning, he was interested in learning Spanish and his progress was surprising.

He never thought that he would have a gift for that strange language. Jacinto couldn’t then know the advantage that a teacher that taught him Spanish would give him.

Not even a moon had gone by when the house was ready. Both of them, as the sun went down, contemplated in silence, each of them deep in their own thoughts. That night, Jacinto was called before the "baatab". Although he was worried, he wasn't afraid. He had thought of the possible questions and answers a thousand times.

"Jacinto", the chief looked firmly at the young man, trying to guess his thoughts, many have asked me to punish you for helping the ""tsu’ul"" other have tried to punish you themselves. You have been very brave to help him, knowing that everybody would go against you. Do you think it is worth it? It won't be long before he realizes that he isn't wanted here and leaves. What will happen to you then? Your own parents are against your conduct and only your wife is silent. I am listening to what you have to say, speak".

"Everything that you are saying to me, I already know is true, I have said it to myself every single night. I have seen the hate in the eyes of the people; my parents hardly speak to me since Marcelo arrived; only my wife is silent and suffers, as do I, since there is always someone to reproach me directly. In spite of everything...''- he went on - "I haven't been able to convince myself that he has malice, that malice of the "tsu’ul", which those who grew up here with me have told me about. He seems like a brother to me and not even those who grew up here with me made me feel that.

He is respectful of our customs and ideas, he is perseverant like we are and besides, his mother is maasewal. What harm can he do, if he lives here with us in our town?"

I don't understand, I don't know if the things he knows and wants to teach us and they are many things, could hurt us. Not only the language of the white people which we need to learn, according to our grandfathers, he knows how to plant orchards and cultivate the trees, about the stars in the skies, and about diseases. I have seen that he has medicine for many of the things we suffer from. That's what I have seen in him, not pride, not desire to dominate; besides what could he do alone against any one of us or against all of us"

The young indian became silent and looked into the distance "I have felt many things," he began again, "The desire to know what there is beyond our forest, you who know beyond here, tell me if it isn't possible. You have said that the "tsu’ulo'ob" advanced slowly but without stopping, occupying our ancient towns, will we have to fight again? And if we do, will we be able to stop them? Isn't it possible to come to terms with them as was done many years ago when I was a child, in Chan Santa Cruz? I would like to know all of that because I am very confused.

I am worried not only about my family who is marked because of my friendship with the "tsu’ul" but for all my people.

The maasewaal was silent. His eyes were gleaming with the anguish of his thoughts.

The chief was silent, too. He remembered the things that had happened years before. Without answering Jacinto's questions, he told him briefly.

"Tell the "tsu’ul" that tomorrow I will speak with him. He will stay in the town only if he complies with my conditions."

Jacinto felt a joy that he was careful not to show in front of the "baatab". With a gesture, of respect, he left to return to his house.

His wife was surprised by his good humor; it had been a long time since she had seen that expression, not since the professor had come to town.

"Fix something to eat," said Jacinto, "I'll be back in a few minutes with Marcelo.

The woman hurried to liven up the fire, thinking of what would happen later. It was the first time that the "tsu’ul" would enter their house. Jacinto went quickly toward the recently finished house of the country teacher. Marcelo was resting in the semi-darkness on the improvised cooking fire, and hanging from a rustic tripod was a steaming pot of coffee. When he heard Jacinto's footsteps, he sat up in his hammock at almost the same time as the maasewaal came in.

"I didn't expect you, it hasn't been long since you left."

"I wasn't planning to come back today either, but I have been talking with the "baatab". We were talking about you, something, that I have been expecting, and we have said everything we had to say. Later, you will know everything, now let's go to my house to eat something, the occasion merits it and I want you to know that you can walk peacefully among us as long as you respect what he tells you, now you will come into my house which from today on, you should consider yours."

Marcelo was surprised by the conversation, mostly for Jacinto's excitement.

"All this is good, Jacinto, but it is night and you and your wife should be resting."

"Come on, Marcelo, let's go, my wife is waiting for us with a hot meal.

It's about time that you enjoy tortillas off the comal." Jacinto's joy could be seen not only in his smile, but also in the light shining in his eyes.

For the first time since he arrived in the town, Marcelo crossed the threshold of a maasewaal home. He greeted Jacinto's wife respectfully and met Leonor, Jacinto's younger sister, and his other sister, the married one, according to what Jacinto had told him. They ate in the heat of his friend’s hearth and talked until very late in the light of a wax candle.

Months had passed since Marcelo had arrived in Tok'tuniich. Time in which with feverish earnestness, he had dedicated himself to finish his rustic home and school in one, and cultivate a piece of nearby land with some garden vegetables that he carefully watered with water from the cenote. The people of the town carefully watched his activities and labors. Except for Jacinto's family, he had only been able to awaken the interest of a handful of kids who timidly and fearfully came close to see what he was doing every day.

With patience and agility he had been able to attract them, and although their assistance was irregular since their parents were against it, and openly tried to keep them away with the excuse of work in the house or in the milpa, their curiosity induced them to gather with the teacher who took advantage of every opportunity to teach them the new language which for the children was a motive for showing off to their friends. Their learning wasn't as fast as he would have liked, but it filled him with immense satisfaction. The first problems had been overcome.

Jacinto, with his natural intelligence, had not only learned basic Spanish but had also begun to learn to read and write.

He was trying to spell a text, one afternoon in early winter, when Marcelo interrupted him, coming out of the rustic bathroom in the back yard. Jacinto closed his book and listened to the teacher.

"We are close to Christmas, Jacinto, I have thinking about my mother a lot. I haven't seen her for almost six months.

How time has flown ! It seems like only a couple of days have gone by since I came here behind you. Do you remember?

Jacinto smiled before answering.

"I have heard of Christmas and other big feasts that you have. For us the biggest is the Santa Cruz. We can't celebrate it anymore the way our fathers and grandfathers did in Chan Santa Cruz, but we still have the feast of the cross in Chuum-poom and in other towns. You will see them soon if the "baatab" doesn't oppose. Do you know that in Chuum-poom three of your people lived for two years? One of them died there when I was still learning to walk. He wasn't "toreado" he went on, "according to what my father says, he met them when they were lost in the forest and didn't know where to go. He says he never understood why they didn't kill him, since he was unarmed. Chan Santa Cruz wasn't ours. For many years it had been occupied by some that weren't like those who fought with our farther and grandfather and their fathers. It was then a cursed town and the temple of the cross was a place of crimes, punishments and other bad things. I was just a little kid. Just learning to walk, when after ten years of occupation, my father says, the soldiers abandoned it. Santa Cruz was given back to us, but we never went back. Our town and our "Balam-nay" had been defiled. Evil spirits live in its houses, its streets and forests."

Jacinto fell silent; He thought of those two white men who had managed to escape and in the other, who was killed by the machetes

"My father remembers it very well. He saw them on several occasions in Chuum-poom, while they were there. They said the dead man left two children " concluded Jacinto.

Marcelo listened to the story. He had heard about them in Zaci, about those who escaped after the uprising against Don Porfirio, back in June 1910, and that two of the came back from there from where nobody returns, from the virgin forest occupied by the "southerners". He remembered that they said that one of them didn't want to go back to civilization and was killed there in Chuum-poom.

"Tell me, Jacinto, do you think that your father would tell me about what happened many years ago, when you were born."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I will, the first chance I get. Now I want to tell you something that I have thought about many times, would you like to see Zaci, and meet my mother and my family? When I tell them how much I owe you, I don't doubt, that they will consider you as one of the family."

Jacinto didn't answer. He was too surprised by the question; his imagination took him far away to where only from the tales of the oldest ones did he know that maasewaal had fought with so much hate against the "tsu’uloob".

Later, after the "baatab" had given him permission, with serious warnings, Jacinto went with his teacher on the trip back to Zaci. He was carrying a long list of things that he should buy which he carefully put in his leather bag where he kept the gold and silver coins he would use to buy them.

It was a long journey with one day of rest in Tihosuco, Tepich and Tekom and ranches in between.

Before Christmas, they entered the neighborhood of San Juan, after an amazing experience in the train station with the locomotive whose size he couldn't stop admiring, they start walking to Jose Marcelo's house. Jacinto's dress customary of the "southerners" as many called them, attracted curious looks from the local people, something that made Jacinto feel uncomfortable. Marcelo was aware of it, and didn't stop talking; trying to pretend that he hadn't noticed anything. They went across the central park, beautiful with its ornate gates in colonial style its great laurel trees, and the grandeur of the old houses around it and the arches of the halls of municipal palace.

Marcelo explained and pointed out the main buildings, the municipal palace, the majestic temple of San Servacio, whose entrance faced toward the north rather than to the West was strange to the maasewaal, who lifted his eyes timidly to the peaks of its towers and its vault, the house of the priests, the central fountain, and at last, everything that was important to Marcelo. They crossed the "five corners and went toward the neighborhood of Sisal by the foot path of the friars to the square in front of the monumental Franciscan Convent. They crossed it to continue along a colonial alley that led to his mother's house. They arrived on foot because they had left their animals on the outskirts of Zaci with a friend, asking him to take care of them for a few days.

Marcelo stopped for an instant at the door of the house; he spoke to Jacinto who was a few steps behind him.

"We have arrived Jacinto, this is my mother's house I want you to feel at home, like I feel in your house."

Both went in silently. Marcelo's mother, who was in the kitchen, looked at them surprised, for a few seconds, she hugged Marcelo tightly as her tears of joy flowed freely. Jacinto silent and respectful tried to stay out of the way for a few minutes.

"Mommy, this is Jacinto, from Tok'tuunich, I only want to tell you what he means to me, and that if it weren't for him you might have never seen me again".

The first days in Zaci were a mixture of bad moments and satisfaction for the maasewaal . He was bothered by the curious looks of people wherever he went, almost always with Marcelo. They walked many times through the streets of Santa Lucia and Candelaria. With more curiosity than devotion, he listened to the rosary and holy Mass.

The 24th of December was a day to be remembered, he had never imagined that in each "tsu’ul" home there would be a party.

The songs of the "posadas", the children singing from house to house was something new to him and also the dances and folk dances where indians, mestizos, and whites mixed.

In front of the Municipal Palace there was a big dance on the 31st, the last day of the old year to wait for the new year. The cantinas were full of the people from all the neighboring towns and the stores, and sidewalk stands were selling their wares until dawn.

Jacinto didn't rest until he had bought everything on his list. Thread, buttons, ribbon, sandals, earrings and necklaces, machetes, shirts and a rebozo for Carmen and Leonor and his mother, clothes for his son and shotgun shells.

Marcelo collected his overdue payments, and on January 2, they got ready to go back. He carefully prepared all his purchases. Jacinto did the same thing with the many things he had acquired including the presents for his wife, son and other family members.

Notebooks, pencils and books were put in a special package protected against moisture by a rubber sheet cover.

They had brought in the pack mules the day before on the side streets and by afternoon everything was ready for the return trip to Tok'tuunich. Around the modest table, Jacinto, Marcelo and his mother had their last conversation while they ate dinner.

"When do you plan to come back son?"

"I don't know, mommy, but it won't be until the end of the school year, I guess.

I would like to come back sooner but the trip is very long, 30 leagues at least and it's not easy."

" Jacinto" he spoke to his friend,

"Will you come back with me the next time? I hope you will; not only for company on the trip, but because I think you liked my old city and besides my mother would like to see you again, wouldn't you, mommy?."

Marcelo's mother looked at the maasewaal affectionately. "Why not Jacinto? you know that you are in your home here whenever you like. I wish, God willing, you could bring your wife. I know that it is a long and difficult trip. But, don't you think that she would like to see our city, like you did?."

Jacinto spoke to her in Maya, although his Spanish was understandable, he was more comfortable speaking in his native language.

"I won't forget the days I spent here with you, I feel like I were at home with my family. I don't know when; but I will bring Carmen and my son to see Zaci and visit you. Our parents and our grandparents have told us many things about the "tsu’uloob", and although I have only spoke to some merchants, I haven't seen any hate toward us in them.

"Only sometimes they looked at me strangely. You can't imagine how much I have thought about my family back there in the woods, so far from here. Many years will go by before we can enjoy the modern conveniences that you have, but I believe Marcelo has already started the process. I wish everybody in my town would see it like that".

He was quiet and for a few seconds, it seemed like he was finished, then he said in a firm voice.

"Don't worry about Marcelo, they would have to kill me before they could touch him, you can be sure."

Marcelo and his mother were moved by Jacinto's sincere words.

"I don't doubt it, son". Marcelo's mother took Jacinto's arm as she said," in my heart, there are only blessing for you, and I pray that God protects you wherever you go. Go with Him, and may He bring you back here to your home".