Izamal
(continued from an earlier issue; read part one) Comrades Outside the restaurant I said, “We must go quickly to find this man at the University.” We set off at nearly a trot, and after asking directions from a street vendor, we found our way to the steps of that library. As Gustavo had said, there stood a large man with a thick middle. His Yucatecan shirt was tucked in at the waist, making him appear even stouter. Eusebio Diaz appeared to be uncomfortably warm. Small beads of perspiration dotted his forehead as he said, “Yes, I am the one you seek. Let’s get out of this...
Read MoreIzamal
Where do I begin? How can I explain my actions? Where does memory fade and when do we forgive the heinous acts of history? I only know what I know. And I cannot stop the sequence of events that must occur. Itzam`na (“Dew from Heaven”) whispers in my ear, “We are the Maya and this is our land.” I am Luca. I was born in 1970. I am a poor Mayan child, now just ten years old. We worked hard, my family and me. My father had died when I was five. Still, we got by. My mother raised us up in the church. The Catholic Church. How beautiful that Mission was! We felt special to...
Read MoreA Fable
Once there was a bird. She was the finest of birds. She was all of the things that make birds desirable to us mere humans. She was quick-witted. She loved to laugh. She was kind beyond kindness. She was strong, yet delicate. Even though her heart had been wounded, she found a way to rise above. Her beauty, obvious on the outside, had its origin from within. In short, she was a bird among birds. She was one to be recognized on her own merits. She didn’t sing very much, for even though she had a wonderful voice, she had been told that it wasn’t acceptable. One day a weary traveler...
Read MoreAn Hour in Special Ed
Here there are four students and three teachers. Here grunts and screams and moans fill the air. Here critical comments fall on inattentive ears. I have entered the Special Ed room at the junior high. I work in a corner, replacing the lead teacher’s computer. I have ample opportunity to watch and listen as I wait for the transfer of data to the network drive. Kept apart by at least a few feet, the students seem almost unaware of each other. There is a boy, a Down syndrome boy, who sits on a sofa in another corner of this room. He holds a large ball and growls and howls for no apparent...
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