Bor Paniagua

During my visits to Naha’, I settle with Kin Sol, his wife, in their family home.  This created community of nearly 300 people is comprised entirely of Northern Lacandon Maya, whose ancestors lived in isolated woodland pockets rather than structured neighbourhoods.  Several other similar villages, all created by government decree, are scattered near the ancient Maya cities of Palenque, Yaxchilan, and Tonina, Mexico.  

Cement-block homes with tin roofs flank the dusty dirt trail that meanders through the settlement.  Traditional wooden homes with thatch roofs occupied by the community elders are set back from the road, obscured by dense rainforest foliage.

For many days, Kin Sol caressed my vibrant blue-and-green cotton hammock, its’ softness a stark contrast to their coarsely woven single-width hammocks, the only kind available in San Cristobal de Las Casas, the largest market town.  (Although I had never put it to the test, I knew that 2 adults and several children could sleep comfortably in my extra-large family-size hammock.)

I recounted that it was a gift to my husband from his first wife, then as now, a good friend of mine.  Kin’s natural enthusiasm erupted, reflecting camaraderie with my husband.  And more than a little jealousy! (How was it that a white person would have more than one wife?)  In the past century before the missionaries, Lacandon society embraced polygynous, often sororal unions, an accomplishment correlated with wealth and religious power.  

Learning that my husband did not have two wives at the same time, Kin’s trust in my honesty increased -but his exuberance instantly dissolved. 

Each morning after breakfast, Kin Sol and two of his boys led rigorous treks into their highland forest.  After one particularly demanding two-hour hike – a short jaunt for a Lacandon - over rugged topography through dense forest along a constricted corridor chopped by Kin Sol’s machete, we emerged above one of the diminutive lakes deposited between the undulating hills.   Sunlight mirrored by placid water blinded me.  Miraculously (in my mind), we had arrived precisely at their dugout canoe.  Paddling leisurely, we glided upon the glassy plane of Lake Yaxha, the “lake of blue-green water,” reverentially commemorating the inseparable union of Father Blue Sky and Mother Green Earth.*

Kin Sol and his son, Bor Paniagua, picked a bouquet of pastel rose-pink water lilies for me, revealing the Maya penchant for puns: a bouquet of Lol-ha for Lola.   Enchanted, I captured this image of young Bor, seated serenely in his father’s handhewn cayuca. 

*Father Tomas Garcia in Contemporary Maya Spirituality Molesky-Poz 2006:162