A couple of knocks on the door woke Marcelo up. He couldn't sleep well thinking about Jacinto in Hospital. He reacted rapidly as the knocking repeated, louder this time.

'Yes, who is it?' It must be the driver - he thought.

'Dad, it's me'- was the answer.

'I am coming!' he said as he got up rapidly in his underwear. He turned down the speed of the ceiling fan and then he went to open the door. He recognized the silhouette of his son with the Bay of Chetumal on the background. They hugged briefly.

'I've just arrived. I traveled all night.'

The old teacher's expression was enough to make the young doctor understand.

'Is my uncle badly hurt?'

The doctor said he's got too many bruises. They think his neck is broken. I could hardly recognize him, his is so swollen... and his injuries... I don't know; it might not be as bad as they say. The doctor also said that they would be able to provide a better prognosis in two days.

'Let me change my clothes and then if there is hot water I will take a shower, then we'll go for a cup of coffee at the restaurant by the sea'

'Go first, I will go next'

Half and hour later they were enjoying the soft breeze from the east and the view of the tranquil sea at the sky blue bay.

'How are your children, Marcelo' -the teacher asked his son.

'Growing, growing well and studying'

'Time sure goes by fast, son'

'I hope that at least one of them will follow after my profession, even though things are getting harder every day.

They finished their breakfast and went to the truck where the driver was still sleeping.

Wait for me here -said Marcelo- I will go with my son to the hospital. Have you had breakfast?

'Yes, patron, I had some tacos at the market, early this morning'

'Don't go far. I don't think we will stay long'

Marcelo got into his son's car. The young doctor said ' I suppose he is in "Morelos" hospital'

'That's right son, let's go'

When the young doctor arrived at the hospital he remembered the time when he was doing his social service treating critical cases... The city had changed since them, the streets and avenues have been modernized and cinder block houses replaced the wooden houses destroyed by hurricane Janet.

'I am doctor May Ek, nephew of patient Jacinto Ek, Can I speak with the doctor on call?

'Certainly doctor, sit here at the office, I will tell him' -said the secretary.

A few minutes later a young intern came in and greeted them politely

'I am the nephew of the traumatized patient. Can you tell me what his situation is, please?'

Certainly doctor, I have here his dossier. Would you like to read it? -he said handing the folder to the doctor.

'Thank you -said Marcelo-

Marcelo watched his son's face as he went to the dossier, page by page, to evaluate the evolution of his uncle. He noticed profound worry.

'Dad, it looks as even if he gets better, he will be crippled for the rest of his life. His spine is broken, a vertebra, most possibly, he will be ... paralyzed.

'You mean there is no hope?'

'That what it looks like, Dad'. Time is needed to determine the extent of the damage. We'll have to see how he evolves in a few days. If there are no complications of course, something we cannot foresee.

Marcelo was profoundly concerned by his son's words. The intern told them as he was leaving the contiguous room:

'You can enter now, the patient is half-asleep, don't stay too long please.'

'Thank you'- said the teacher-

Father and son approached Jacinto, who opened his eyes as he recognized his old's friend voice.

'How do you feel, uncle? Asked Marcelo while taking his pulse.

'Judge for yourself'- answered Jacinto forcing a smile.

'Fine, just fine, uncle, except for the pain of the bruises' He tried to give him hope.

'I don't feel my legs, or in back, my arms are numb I can' t move them...'

The look in his face showed the anxiety of the doubt and hopelessness.

'You will get better, uncle, it is just a matter of time'

'I hope so, if God wants, I don't know'

The teacher listened to the conversation between his son and Jacinto. He interrupted to cheer his friend up.

'Of course you will get better Jacinto, Marcelo has told you already.'

Jacinto was silent for a few seconds.

'I would like to talk about so many things before you go... Are you leaving today?...I am sure you must have many things to do... especially you, nephew'.

'I think I will return tomorrow, I feel better after seen you. I have work to do in Merida, and I can't be out of town for many days.'

'I understand and I thank you for your visit, I can't tell you how much better it makes me feel'

Jacinto looked at the teacher and said:

'There are many things I don't understand...can we talk alone?'

The doctor was surprised, he immediately said to his father:

'I'll leave you alone. I will use this time to do some shopping'

When his nephew left, Jacinto started the dialogue.

'Marcelo, I don't have much time. I feel I am badly hurt. I don't know if I will recover. There are some things that have been bothering me for a long time now. This is my opportunity to clear my mind. I know I won't get another chance'

'Go on Jacinto... go on'

'I have always asked myself if I was wrong when we struggled to break our isolation.- When you arrived to the village we were about twenty years old, remember? How little we had lived! And how wise were the old men who opposed it while they lived. Especially when the young men left the village and their families to joined the lumber and chicle companies... now they migrate to the new cities on the coast'

He paused for a while due to the effort, then continued.

We are losing our traditions and our religion. Our children no longer respect us. The marijuana and other drugs are controlling them- not to speak of alcohol- our villages are full of drunks on weekends when they return from their jobs outside. The men do not want to work in the fields. They don't plant corn or anything, they don't raise animals, women do not respect their husbands as our wives did respect us... have you noticed they are ashamed of being Mayas? They no longer use our traditional clothes everyone wants to dress like "catrines", like the city people.

Marcelo listened attentively without interrupting. After another brief pause, Jacinto continued.

Have you noticed that people do not wear alpargatas, nor straw hats or hupiles, or rebozo? Women now cut their hair short... everyone uses t-shirts with words in English and strange figures and pictures of women almost naked, jeans and sport shoes... What happened Marcelo? What is wrong with our things that our children and grandchildren are erasing them? They deny them and even mock them when we talk about it.. Do you know that they do not ask permission to get married? Most of the time now the young couples just run away... Do you know how many women are abandoned? They have to go back to their parents' home or leave their children with the grandparents to go to the city to work as maids. What have happened Marcelo? Do you think that we could have been better if we had remained the same as our forefathers in the woods, far from the ts'uulo'ob?...

In Valladolid the culture exchange was having the same impact. Marcelo could see in his mind the scene that Jacinto had described about the situation in his town.

Jacinto smiled as he remembered something he wanted to ask.

'Is it true that man has arrive to the moon? We saw it on television , many people do not believe it, they think it is just a movie and a story the "gringos" want us to believe. It was some years ago, wasn't it?'

'It was in 1969 -said the old teacher- and it is absolutely true -emphasized with a smile'

'The man on the moon and here we are so far behind... I just can't understand'

'That is life, Jacinto'

Jacinto closed his eyes. He looked exhausted.

'I think I should let you rest, Jacinto, I will be back this afternoon'

'I will be waiting for you, please come, I still have a lot to say, but please stay another minute' -Jacinto made a great effort to continue.

'My back is broken, They don't need to tell me. Am I going to live paralyzed in my hammock for rest of my life ?. I would rather die than live like that'

'Come on, Jacinto. Have faith in God. We still don't know what could happen. For the moment they say that you are getting better and you are in a good mood.'

'Let's not try to fool ourselves, Marcelo, We always spoke the truth to each other... I can read your mind by the look on your eyes'

Marcelo was quiet, perturbed by his friend's response.

'I have faith in God...I have faith that you will get better'

Jacinto closed his eyes again, the nurse quietly entered the room to continue with her routine and take his vital signs. Marcelo got up while the nurse took Jacinto's temperature and pulse.

Because his friend looked exhausted, he waved his hand to say good bye and left the room. Outside the hospital, his son was waiting for him.

'I thought you went shopping'

'It was just an excuse to leave you two alone'

'How does he look to you, son?'

'To be frank, I don't think he'll live and if he lives...'

'I know ... he will be paralyzed'

Two weeks after his trip to Chetumal it happened what he had feared. When Marcelo received the urgent telegram from Carrillo Puerto, he guessed what it would say.

He opened the envelope in front of the messenger who already knew what it said.

'Bad news?'

Marcelo lifted his eyes and looked directly at the old man who was leaving discretely.

'Bad news'

He walked to his bedroom and ordered his servant.

'Prepare enough clothes for a couple of days...Where is the driver? I haven't seen him since lunch. Tell him we will be leaving as soon I shower.

The maid started her task without a word.

Marcelo wrote a short message for his son in Merida. " Your uncle Jacinto passed away. I don't think you can go to the village. I am leaving immediately. I hope to get there for the burial"

The first shadows of night were falling and the street-lights had already been turned on when the teacher's truck arrived to the village by the dirt road that joined with the highway 18 kilometers away. The distance between Valladolid and the village was covered in less than three hours. Immersed in his thoughts the teacher didn't noticed his driver was going at 100 kilometers per hour. It was Saturday, they had picked up two young men at the crossed roads from Carrillo Puerto where they worked as masons. A couple of knocks on the truck's roof made the driver looked back at them as they made signs that they would get down at the edge of town where the houses began. Marcelo ordered him to stop and as he did the boys jumped out agilely.

'How much do we owe you, patron?' asked one of the boys.

'Nothing, boys' said the teacher.

'Thank you, patron' -they said and walked away. The pick up started off again toward the center of town.

'We have to ask where Jacinto's house is. I imagine it is in front of the old square. Let's go that way' -He lifted his hand to point the way- I haven't the slightest idea, this so different to what I had imagined.

The truck went round the town-square and the teacher made signs to stop at the commissary office but the doors were closed. Only a sign on the wall indicated the place.

'Where is don Jacinto's house? - He asked a man sitting in front of the building

The man stared at him and said: 'You are Marcelo, the teacher, aren't you? We have been waiting for you. Dol asked me to wait for you and take you to the house.'

'Who are you, I don't remember you'

'I am Teo Uicab, I was one of your student's when you came to the village'

Teo, it is you! I remember, you were one of the first ones to come to the school' -Marcelo remembered that first group of children with who he started in the rustic thatch roofed school- 'please take me to the house'

Teo got in to the cabin to direct them to the house.

' What time did he die?'

' Early in the morning, last night he was in very bad condition'

' Marcelo didn't ask more questions'

The truck stopped in front of the stone made housewhere the people were mourning in respectful silence,. He recognized Carmita among the group of women who followed the prayer leader in their ' Our Father' and 'Hail Mary' prayers.

Carmen got up and went to him, he couldn't hold back the tears anymore as he hugged her tears ran down his cheeks, sobbing with pain.

The people looked on them respectfully, aware of what the presence of the old friend mean to them. Their memories went back half a century before.

When he was more calmed Carmen told him:

'He left us...he didn't want to live, he couldn't accept to live like that. He didn't forget you. Since he arrived he told me how he wanted to leave the things with his children and all the family and always ...always mentioned you. He asked me to let you know.'

Marcelo stepped back a little and asked

'Where are Dol and the others'

Carmen pointed to the family, women, men and children that almost filled the room. Marcelo approached the rustic coffin and opened it to see Jacinto's face. He stood for a long moment under the watchful eyes of the people. In the distance a sound system was broadcasting music for the whole town. Marcelo sat with the men who were discretely passing a bottle of liquor.

During the wake, the old survivors of those distant times -the 30's - men and women who had been his students and all Jacinto's family came to greet him and relive some of those moments. The old man Chuc, more than 90 years old, who came with difficulty but without help in the first hours of the morning remembered:

'He was my god-son... he always visited me... we all respected him...we always respected him'

Marcelo shook his wrinkled old hand warmly.

'Everyone who met him respected and appreciated him, I will always remember him' -said the teacher.

Before the sun came out, the funeral procession left the house toward the cemetery located on the outskirts of the other side of town. Marcelo took his turn with the group in carrying the coffin, behind them the family members headed by Carmen, Jacinto's faithful wife for more than 50 years.

The cool morning air revitalized their tired faces, some of the men were making a huge effort to hide the effects of the alcohol consumed during the wake. The approached the central square from where the loud music came from the night before. When Marcelo ceded his place to another of the group who was waiting his turn, he approached Carmen, who was about two meters behind. He put his hand on her shoulder trying to comfort her. She looked at him gratefully as tear ran down her cheeks. As they advanced through the town more and more people joined the group until they formed a large column.

When they arrived to the place chosen at the rustic cemetery the grave dug by family members was ready. After a few moments of silence they proceeded to deposit inside the grave the heavy box. The women sobbed and occasionally they cried out loud expressing their deep grief, everyone prayed fervently. At the end, the people placed flowers or bouquets on the earth that covered the grave.

Marcelo was silent until the end. When everyone was gone, Carmen gestured that she was leaving.

Alone, Marcelo was thinking about his young years at the village. Those years passed before his closed eyes. He remembered the childish face of Leonor. And the happy days of his youth that both enjoyed amongst the nature of the town, the clear-sky nights, and the cold water of the cenote; the anguish and pain of her death at the birth of his son. Every detail crossed before his eyes haphazardly.

"Patron" -the voice of his driver brought him back to reality- 'everyone has gone, I brought the pick up as close as I could. Should I wait for you?"

"No, let's go"-he answered.

He took the hat that the driver gave him and walked to the truck that wasn't far away.

"Let's go to my friend's house", he said as he got into the truck.

Soon they were in front of Jacinto house.

Dol was waiting for him near the door.

"Come, have something, uncle. We have prepared breakfast".

"Thanks, Dol, I'm not hungry."

"A coffee or maybe a chocolate." Dol insisted.

"I'll have a coffee, I think my driver would like to eat, he hasn't eaten since yesterday".

He sat at the table, near the fire, which was being fanned by a young woman whose features reminded him of Leonor, he asked Dol.

"Is she your daughter?"

"No uncle, she is my oldest sister's daughter. You remember her, don't you?"

"The truth is, I don't remember. She was so little."

"She died some years ago, this daughter of hers was raised by my father. He said that she looks like my aunt, Leonor. Sometimes he told me about you and her.

Marcelo examined the face of the young girl who concentrating on her work didn't notice.

"She looks like her a lot, Dol."

"Will you stay to rest?"

"No, I will go back to Valladolid as soon as my drive finishes eating."

Carmen came to the table and sat next to Marcelo.

"I am going now, Carmen, but I promise I'll be back soon to visit you, with my son. He couldn't come because of his work. But I am sure he is awaiting for the news I will bring him.

"Tell him to remember us. I'll never forget him, He is another son to me."

"You gave him life, you nursed him for months, have you forgotten?"

"How could I forget that? Marcelo."

"We'll be back here soon to visit you, he might come with his wife and children.

"Patron, whenever you're ready, the pick up is waiting." Interrupted the driver.

"Let's go now", he answered as he got up and shook the hands of everybody who came when they saw he was leaving.

"See you soon, this is not farewell."

The pick up left and a few minutes later, it was raising dust on the dirt road that led to the highway.

"Go slowly, there is no hurry, I want to doze and I can't if you're speeding. Understand?"

"I understand, patron, beside I won't sleep because I slept all night in the cabin. You can rest assured."

Marcelo made himself comfortable, resting his head against the door of the truck; he closed his eyes, trying to sleep. Back there, in eternal rest was one of the last Cupulo'ob.

In his dreams, the memories of far off times come, the history of three generations that closed one cycle to open another. What would be of his race and his culture?

Back there were left those who would probably be the last Cupulo'ob.