Rosie the’ Ix kan lol ‘
Her hair was short and she was so slim, great big hazel eyes adorn her face, and a smile that seemed forever there. When Rosie smiled she lighted up the room and its sweetness was contagious.
She was five when her father walked away one night. She never wanted to remember that night, not even her smile made him stay. She saw him putting his belongings into a sac, he only had one extra pair of trousers and one pair of shoes so she thought that his search was mainly to cast in his brain the image of his daughters, the girls he loved but that he was abandoning, she saw how tenderly he caressed Lupita the baby who was fast sleep, the hunger make her drowsy so it was better that she slept, then Irma who shared one side of the small catre two years younger than her, his caress to Irma was kind of the sign of the cross on her forehead in such a rush, perhaps he remembered what he was doing and felt a hypocrite so he rise and looked at Rosie. She felt those green eyes that she loved so much warming her and also saw them filling with tears ‘We’neé Rosie” he told her “uzben Rosie” ‘Go to sleep Rosie, Take care Rosie’ Her father only spoke a little Maya language, his family were never mixed with the Maya Indians. Rosie’s mother family came from a Spanish lineage too; however some of her aunties did mixed their blood with Maya Indians losing some of their pedigree. Thus losing their place in society, and being treated just like the local people.
Why was her father collecting his things? Why was his mother in a corner crying silent tears, her face so austere as if the tears as they fall harden her skin making her face look so stern. ‘Tu'x ka binex papá? Where are you going dad? ‘Rosie asked, silence responded to her, she stretched her arms to him but no comfort was given
He gave a last glance to the run down house, that was more like a hut and he left, he did not look back, he knew that if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to leave, he knew that they his kids, specially Rosie will suffer but his mind was made up and he hurried in his steps. That was the last Rosie saw of her dad.
Dawn came so soon, her mother poked her and gave her a small cup of warm ‘atole’ that refreshed her a little, awake at dawn she put her little ‘rebozo’ and went outside to collect ‘leña’ for the fire and start her cooking soon her blind aunt will be calling on her to take her to collect the scraps at the train station and visiting the homes of the people who gave them some charity, as she walked she felt the water from the grass wetting her naked feet. Rosie was always so curious she bend over to see closer how the shiny blades of grass captured the sunrise on the dew which is gathered there and see the light sparkles like little mini rainbows, her amazement and wondering was so big that only when she felt the kick on her butt given by her mother to bring her back to earth and that made her fall on her face that finally she remember she was not in a dream but reality, one that she did not like but she was destined to live and her little tender heart just had to take in.
Rosie’s day was always busy, helping her aunt with her collections, looking after her baby sisters, when you see Rosie at home you always see her doing ‘hezmek’ to her baby sister Lupita and Irma not so far from her, they were her’ Dziritzes’(daughters) ‘co´ox xipá’ you heard her say ‘Let’s go’ Rosie told them once, twice preparing the little food that they were to have on that day. Even at the tender age of five Rosie was a superb organiser. She tended to the babies, as soon as she made sure they were okay, she tended to the food and the ‘tortillas’ that needed to be done so she was able to deliver them to the people who requested these from her mother , she also sold them to the workers from the nearby station. As well as cooking for others, Rosie did washing, not hers but washing for other people, she only possessed two dresses and one pair of shoes that did not fit her so she preferred just to walk without them, but at midday when the sun inclemently heated the roads she was forced to put them on her feet and tip toed along, at least her toes did not burn.
When her day was over Rosie’s return home was not always a happy one, her mother was always loading more and more work on her to help with the babies as well as the cooking and above all to make the hammocks, every day Rosie had to ‘urdir’ knit hammocks. It was very boring but at least her sisters were by then fast asleep and she wanted so much to join them but had to do her share, and Rosie so she won’t fall asleep of tiredness developed a game while doing this activity, she dream, she created stories, she sang songs while she was doing the round and round the ‘bastilleros’ her stories were of damsels ‘xipas bonitas’ knights who would rescue them, even though her life was like a broken-winged bird, Rosie move forward she hold her dreams thigh and she never saw her life as a desert field, her dreams gave her colour in her life, she knew if her dreams go then she will feel alone and she could not afford to feel like that. So she dreamt.
So she knitted the hammocks always singing, always smiling with such a brave face creating panels, designs, different patterns in them. Her hammocks were always colourful or if the same tread or colour then her hammocks were always with different patterns. She like the native Americans capture every good emotion in that hammock she knew that when heads will rest on them all her stories will be told and more can be created the swings of the hammock will get rid of anything evil in their dreams and won’t let them stay a part of their dreams or life. Rosie’s life has never been a bed of roses, but I have never heard her complaint and I know that she has endured extreme poverty, pain, and has suffered terrible loses.
When she knits hammocks she does it with happiness and does it with gladness, I know I have witnessed it, when I was young and had homework to do I loved lay in the cool tiled floor of our home, and listen to my mum sing, sometimes in Maya, sometimes Maya mixed with Spanish, never saw her angry or serious when knitting hammocks and her emotions were transferred to me and I felt happy.
One afternoon while I was visiting her, a man called and I answered the door he told me “is Rosie home” it was a long time that I heard somebody calling my mum Rosie that it was not my dad usually people called her ‘Doña Rosita’ or Doña Rosa’ so I went to my mum who was at the back of the house finishing her laundry, my mum is always busy, she never stops. When she came near the door the stranger said ‘Bix a belex dziritz?’ she responded ‘Maloob, Yum botic papá’ Then is when I noticed the green eyes, he was shorter to what my mother past descriptions were, then I made such fast mental calculations he must be in his eighties, He was my mother’s father who returned to say goodbye properly to his daughter, a very brief visit a kiss and a hug. Mother was smiling no crying, nor sentimental just a peaceful smile. After a short period of time his ride returned to collect my grandfather, before leaving he accepted a kiss from me and my daughter turning around to my mother he said to her ‘uzben Rosie mi Ix kan lol” Take care Rosie my flower’
That afternoon my mother continue knitting a hammock for me, so at my return to England I have a nice memory of her and that afternoon when I met my granddad for the first time and she had one of her biggest dreams come true. She sang as she knitted as always. All things are bound together, all things connect, stars build constellations, and alphabets build words, love build happiness and life little by little create us and then we are, we exist. My mum had Rosie in her heart and she has managed to put Rosie on every one of us her children. So, when you put your head in this hammock that my mother made, please dream because dreams they do come true. . Dream on, and be at peace.
TZ'UTZ' A CHI
T U CAAP COOL HOK CHE
Tz'aex a hatz'uutz nokeex;
tz'ooc u kuchul kin h'cimac olil;
xeech u tzou tzotzel a pol;
tz'a u lemceech ciichcelmil a nok
tz'a hatz'utz xanaab;
ch'uuycinzah a nuucuuch tuup
tu tupil a xicin;
tz'a malob oochh';
tz'a u keexiloob a x ciichpan caal;
tz'a, uu baakaal
hop men hop tu nak a kab.
T kailbeilt caa i laac ciichpameech
hebiix [maix] maace
uay tu t cahil,
H' Tz'iitbalchee' cah.
In yacumaech
X Cichpan Colelbiil.
Lai beiltic
in kaat ca i[labe]ech
h'aach zempeech
cii[chpam]ech,
tumen cu yan
ca chiicpaaceech ti x buutz' ek,
tu men ca u tz'iboolteech
tac lail
u yetel u x lol nicte kaax.
Chen zacan
zacan a nok,
h'x zuhuy,
xen a tz'a u cimac olil a chee
tz'a utz ta puczikal
tumen helae
u zutucil cimac olil
tu lacal uinic lail cu tz'ailc, u yutzil ti teech. (2)
TO KISS YOUR LIPS
BESIDE THE FENCE RAILS
Put on your beautiful clothes;
the day of happiness has arrived;
comb the tangles from your hair;
put on your most attractive clothes
and your splendid leather;
hang great pendants in the lobes of
your ears; put on
a good belt; string garlands
around your shapely throat;
put shining coils
on your plump upper arms.
Glorious you will be seen,
for none is more beautiful here
in this town, the seat of Dzitbalche.
I love you, beautiful lady.
I want you to be seen; in
truth you are very alluring,
I compare you to the smoking star
because they desire you up to the moon
and in the flowers of the fields.
Pure and white are your clothes, maiden.
Go give happiness with your laugh,
put goodness in your heart, because today
is the moment of happiness; all people
put their goodness in you.
