Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha Read online

  “My people certainly don’t know how to behave in public,” grumbled Matilda Moss. There was again a general murmur of assent. “And especially when we have visitors,” she continued, smiling, and looking directly at Molly. “Their poor mothers must be ashamed of them. These two!” She shook her head sadly. Molly smiled and Matilda Moss turned, glaring straight ahead. “Can’t you drive any faster, Driver? I’m on a mission. Christmas! Hmph! It’s Easter. Must not even know the difference. Christmas! Hmph!”

  The bus passed through a rain shower and the windows were hurriedly closed, rapidly increasing the temperature, humidity, and odors within the bus. Molly was glad she had stopped at a drug store in Dangriga and bought and taken two traveling pills. The nausea came in waves, but was not as bad as they would have been without the pills. Yet, at times, she felt as if she would throw up. The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun and the windows were hurriedly opened. The dust returned in copious amounts.

  She reflected for a moment, wondering if she had done the right thing to take the bus south. Learning Mopan and Ke’kchi was, in fact, only a hobby and it was unlikely she would ever teach the languages. Indeed, she had always wanted to see the remote villages of her country, but now she was questioning if coming alone was such a good idea after all. Gus, to whom she had expressed an interest in the villages and whose Mopan family lived in Santa Cruz, had invited her to join them there for the Easter Holidays. She had been intrigued, although she would miss going to St. George’s Caye, which the family always did at Eastertime.

  The village of Santa Cruz was in pristine jungle and life there did not have all the demands of city life. She expected to enjoy herself and so was on her way to meet Gus at the Punta Gorda cutoff. There, she would leave the bus which would continue on its way to coastal Punta Gorda Town. Gus had, supposedly, made the transportation arrangements for them to travel to San Antonio and then onto Santa Cruz. She tried to relax, thinking that it was only the unfortunate incident with the two men … along with the heat, the dust, and the nausea that was making her uneasy. Perhaps, she pondered, she should have flown one of the local airlines, but she had wanted to see the countryside. Even that, however, she was not achieving because of all the dust.

  The bus arrived at the Punta Gorda cutoff about two hours later and Molly was very relieved to see Gus at the road mouth. About a dozen passengers stood and as she struggled to the door and to freedom, a hot but fresh breeze brushed against her face.

  Matilda Moss shouted at her, “Take care, Darling. Take care.”

  Before she could answer, the other people getting off had ushered her through the door. She walked hurriedly along the side of the bus to the window where the woman sat. “Thank you, Miss Moss,” she uttered, gratefully.

  The woman smiled then frowned slightly as if having a troublesome premonition. “Take care of yourself. God Bless.” She turned, shouting, “Hurry up, Conductor. I’m on a mission.”

  Molly moved away from the side of the bus as the disembarked passengers continued gathering their belongings. The breeze, even though hot, brought immediate relief because it was a breeze free from the entrails of the crowded bus. Gus hastened towards her and they embraced lightly.

  “Welcome, Teach,” said Gus, smiling happily. “Lord almighty! You’re a dusty red … welcome to the South.”

  “It’s good you’re here,” she remarked, a bit nervously, trying not to show her uneasiness. “If you hadn’t showed up, I definitely would have continued into Punta Gorda. And, please call me Molly. Teach is for school.”

  “Something happened? You sound upset,” queried Gus, concern evident in his voice.

  “Oh, it’s probably just the trip. It was a long one … all the way from Belize City,” she answered. “And the heat.” She passed her hands through her hair, looked upwards, closed her eyes and permitted a little smile. She stared at her hands. They were red. “I’ll have to take a bath.”

  “We don’t bathe here,” laughed Gus.

  The bus was beginning to rev and Molly glanced at the bus, seeking out Miss Moss. She was observing Molly through the window. “Ma’am,” Molly shouted. “Thank you again.”

  Miss Moss smiled and waved then turned to the front, once more, shouting, “Driver! Let’s get this bus going. I’m on a mission.” She looked back at Molly and winked. The bus drove away and, somehow, Molly felt like she was losing contact with civilization. She could not help feeling uneasy.

  “So, you made a friend, pretty gyal,” called out a voice, directly behind her. “And it’s you, Gus, the pretty city gyal come stay with,” drawled Stephen, unsmiling and looking at Gus with his red and tired eyes. “Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me. Oh! Pretty gyal! There’s a beautiful little spot by a creek only I know about. You said you wanted to bathe. You and I can go bathe there, pretty gyal. Naked. Like nature. Gus’s a nasty man. He doesn’t like to bathe.” Stephen began laughing roguishly as he walked off. “Come on, Bas.”

  Molly felt weak, the experience on the bus refreshed in her mind. Stephen’s voice had startled her, perhaps even scared her. “Who are they? Who are they, Gus?” she whispered.

  Gus shook his head. “Two men from the village who can’t seem to grow up,” he answered. “They’re soldiers. Can you believe that? The discipline surely doesn’t come through when they’re on leave.” Gus saw that Molly was very distressed. “Oh, don’t worry about them. Stephen likes to spout shit … pardon the language. He’s damn lucky to have Bas as a friend. Bas is always getting him out of hot water. Stephen’s the taller clown; but don’t let them trouble you, Molly. You probably won’t even see them again as they’re usually here for very little time.” He smiled and shook his head. “Stephen gives me a hard time whenever he can. I have a budding relationship with his young sister. He doesn’t like it.”

  “Stephen was horrible on the bus,” complained Molly. “He was drunk … or at least smelly of stale rum.”

  “They spree a lot when they’re on leave. Yet, I hear that they are very good soldiers. Anyway, don’t let them get to you. There’s nothing to worry about here. Let’s pick up your things,” suggested Gus, in an upbeat voice. “We have a long way to bike.”

  “Are we going to bike all the way to Santa Cruz?” exclaimed Molly, reaching for the enthusiasm she had when she first started the trip.

  “No,” laughed Gus. “It’s too far. We’ll catch a ride to San Antonio and from there we’ll bike it. The transport will be here to pick us up in a little while.”

  “How come you haven’t told me anything about your sweetheart?” Molly laughed, trying to shake the troubled spirit that had arisen while on the bus. Gus chuckled hoarsely.

  Molly began to unwind. She hugged her small athletic body, beginning to anticipate the trip to Santa Cruz and the fact that she would soon be travelling through completely unspoiled country. She passed her hands through her short light brown hair lifting it, as well as some of the red dust, and then let it fall. She was about five feet five inches tall, weighed just over a hundred pounds, but was definitely not frail or sickly looking. Her skin was fair and her eyes large, brown, and bright. Her nose and mouth were just above tiny, her cheekbones prominent.

  Molly looked at the landscape around her. Jungle! Jungle! Jungle! Mountains! Mountains! Mountains! That was the view she saw as she looked down the narrow dirt road inland. “Jungle and mountains!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands above her head. On the bus, she had not been able to see much of the broken pine ridge savannahs the Southern Highway passed through due to the dust. It was the tropical rainforest, however, that she wanted to see most of all. She was finally there. She heard a vehicle approaching and turned around to see Gus picking up her backpack.

  “We’ll ride in the back and you’ll be able to see more,” said Gus. “There are a few others to go, but we’ll have …” Gus stopped. He noticed that Molly’s face looked uneasy again. He glanced into the back of the pickup truck. Stephen and Bas sat lazily on either s
ide of the unhinged tailgate, each smoking a cigarette.

  “Jump in,” ordered Stephen, alternating blowing smoke through his nostrils with rings from his mouth. “We won’t eat you, gyal. Isn’t that so, Gus? And don’t worry, Gus. I won’t tell Sis on you.” He laughed out, loudly. Bas smiled, tiredly. Gus did not answer but helped Molly up into the back of the pickup. “What happen Gus? Crab claw bite off your tongue?”

  “Lay off, Stephen,” asserted Gus. “Bas, control your friend … again.” Stephen laughed. Bas smiled and nodded.

  Molly and Gus sat against the cab so Molly remained in direct view of the two men for the whole six or seven miles into San Antonio. She tried to relax as Gus showed her points of interest along the way. She just could not. The road was in an atrocious condition and the pickup kept tossing them from side to side. Normally, she would have been laughing as they bobbled up and down. That day, she remained very tense, aware that Stephen was often watching her through partially closed eyelids. She was glad when they finally reached the village of San Antonio and the two men stood up.

  The skies were darkening to the West and there was the distant rumble of thunder. Hot breezes from the interior moved against her body. Yet, she felt a chill and she couldn’t understand why she had shivers and goose bumps.

  Stephen jumped out the truck, half turned, unzipped his fly and started to urine. “God! This piss feels good,” he exclaimed. He looked across to them and addressed Gus. “Take good care of the city gyal.” Bas chuckled, jumping off the pickup truck. Stephen shook his penis saying, “Only two shakes or else you’re doing something else.” He laughed and zipped up his fly. The two men left the vehicle and were quickly disappearing into the hilly town. Stephen looked back shouting, “If you want a beer, follow us. Even in San Antonio the beer is cold.”

  “Thank God. Good riddance.” Gus shook his head.

  “I’m sorry,” bemoaned Molly, “but they make me very nervous … and he just … he just urinated right in front of me.” She looked at the disappearing men and added, “Perhaps I should just start laughing at the whole continuous incident.” She looked at Gus.

  “That’s probably best,” replied Gus. “As I said, it’s probably the last we’ll see of them. They’re headed to the nearest house they can get a drink or to the only bar in town, if it’s open … and if it isn’t, I suppose they will open it. Come with me, Teach … Molly. We have two bicycles to pick up.”

  “Yes! Bicycles!” exclaimed Molly, once again trying to elevate her spirits. “I am only good at riding on city streets, not that they’re the best in the world. As you would know, there’re some really bad ones.” She gave Gus a withering look. “I don’t know how I’ll do on country roads.”

  “Well,” laughed Gus. “The road to Santa Cruz isn’t too bad, but not as good as city streets. Yet, it’s just one big pot hole so it’s quite even.” He laughed and Molly shook her head.

  “I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” sighed Molly. “I haven’t done this much exercise for a long time, and, by the look of it, a lot of the riding will be uphill.” She frowned. “But on another matter, Gus, is ‘Sis’ jealous?” teased Molly. “And if she is, is she like Stephen?”

  Gus grimaced at her. “No! Not at all like Stephen. You wouldn’t believe they are brother and sister. She loves him though. I suppose she can’t help it. He’s family. Or, there may be a good side to him nobody sees. Except Bas, maybe.”

  They laughed and walked to a nearby house marked ‘Post Office’ and, as Molly began to relax a little, she began to see the beauty of the small Mopan village. She was struck that the homes were neatly built, ordered, and the village clean, even though covered with a slight tinge of off-white dust, nothing like the red dust she had just come through. A small flower garden seemed to be a mandatory part of each yard, with colorful blooms of hibiscus, gardenia, and bougainvillea shrubs. The houses were made primarily of adobe10 over a pole framework with a thatched roof. Smoke was coming from most of the detached kitchens and the thick smell of freshly baked tortillas quickly erased all memory of the crowded bus from her mind. She began to feel hungry, relaxed at last, suddenly aware that she not eaten anything since leaving Dangriga that morning. She lost all thoughts of food, however, for Gus returned with the bicycles and they were on their way into the jungle.

  Molly had cycled on the main streets of Belize City, but the road to Santa Cruz was very different. Sometimes, the road became narrow with dense alamedas,11 the canopy so tight that it blocked out the sun. Other times, it was so rocky that they had to alight from the bicycles and walk. The air, although hot when the shading cover of the canopy wasn’t there, was fresh and pure. The foliage was brilliant with many shades of green dotted by vibrant red, blue, and yellow bromeliads. Ferns lined the road and lilac and yellow wild flowers bloomed profusely. Every now and again, a multihued bird chirped down at them. The loud caws from a flock of yellowtails12 once made her lift off her bicycle seat, startled.

  They were only a couple miles out of San Antonio when Gus exclaimed, as if exasperated, “Oh shit!” He got off his bicycle and turned it around. “I’m so excited I forgot to pick up the supplies for the health-aid.” He looked at Molly, who was standing astride her bicycle, and frowned. “I have to go back. How stupid! But it’s cool here, Molly. Relax in that bower,”13 he said, pointing to a shaded recess created by the boughs of a large cedar tree.14 There was a loud rumble of thunder and Molly looked up, apprehensively. “Oh, it’s just an afternoon thundershower. We get them all the time.” A hint of dismay shadowed Molly’s face, however. “You have nothing to worry about here. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.” He jumped on his bicycle and was off shouting, “The supplies are important for the village.” Before Molly could reply or disagree, Gus was speeding down the road back to San Antonio.

  Molly was alarmed, at first, at being left alone. She leaned her bicycle against the cedar tree and a dray of squirrels caught her attention. The small animals were on a large limb across the road from where she stood. They were eating small fruit and, as she watched them, they stopped and looked directly at her. They then peeked at each other, began a loud chatter while their long bushy tails danced behind them, and glanced back at her, repeating this sequence over and over again as if trying to lure her into their chitchat. Occasionally, they stopped to bite at the fruit or nut they held in their paws, but even that seemed hurried, even frantic. Molly could not help thinking that they were discussing her. She smiled and sat down at the base of the tree, leaning her head against a large burl,15 and a mild but cool breeze softened the heat around her. A piam-piam16 landed on a limb above her and started the most atrocious cries of piam-piam-piam-piam, moving its body and head in all directions, as if making an alarm.

  “Mr. or Mrs. Piam-Piam,” queried Molly, looking up at the clamorous bird. “Are you angry that I am in your jungle, or are you warning me that I should not be here alone?” Molly frowned. “Gus said there was nothing to worry about,” she added aloud. Hidden crickets were chirping loudly from their leafy shelters and flitting butterflies abounded, flying up, down, forward and to Molly’s astonishment, at times, in growing circles. Molly smiled again and closed her eyes. She was tired. Resting in the beautiful jungle wasn’t a bad idea, she decided, as she inhaled deeply.

  The jungle was becoming quiet. The squirrels had dropped their fruit or nut and disappeared into the dense underbrush that lined the road. The piam-piam made one last cry and flew away. The crickets were silent and the butterflies were flying upward and disappearing into the canopy, hiding their colors among the overgrowth’s varied hues, hiding from the secrets of the jungle. The mild cool breeze became a cold reaching dampness. As dry leaves crackled and were crushed, Molly trembled slightly and lazily opened her eyes. Across from her, where the squirrels had been, perched a grey and white owl, its big black eyes undeviating as it watched her. Sleepily, she wondered what an owl was doing, hunting during the daytime. She was about to close her eyes again when
lightening tore at the jungle followed immediately by an explosive blast of thunder. She cried out, very startled. Rain and hail were hitting the leaves above her, some making it through to the ground. She was protected from the rain, however, as she sat within the bower, and the hail was small and immediately melted. However, she was scared of the lightening and unnerved by the sudden onset and ferocity of the storm.

  Molly remained resting against the tree, her eyes closed, raindrops reaching down to her, wishing that Gus would soon return, forcing herself to stay calm. Warm air swirled about her and she sensed the sound of deep breathing very close by. A feverish wind sighed against her neck and she was petrified. Molly turned her head slowly to the sound and opened her eyes to stare into the light brown eyes of a huge yellow-brown mountain lion.17 She tried to scream, but no sound came from her lips. She attempted to get up but felt herself held firmly against the tree. Yet, no one held her. Her eyelids slammed shut, suddenly, providing her with only darkness. She struggled, but the struggle remained within her and she did not move. A hairy visage was across her face and a hairy form against her body. She felt herself being lifted slowly from the jungle floor and all her breath was being expelled from her lungs as powerful crushing hairy arms embraced her chest. Her jeans were being pulled down and she suddenly felt naked. Her legs were moved apart and she could not resist. The hand and then the head of the hairy force was between her legs and hot breath blew against her. Again, she wanted to scream, but there was no air left in her lungs. She gasped, trying to get her breath back, but without success. Then there was torture.