From a distance Heals Many Wounds, the young shaman, saw that a crowd had gathered around a small group of traders at the village’s open area. A cool wind whipped through the canyon, and he was glad for his leather tunic and twill sandals. Curious, he followed the people. Women sat on the ground nearby, ready to barter their roasted pine nuts and dried venison strips with the passersby. The strong food odors attracted the hungry and adventurous.
In the center of the village an old man with long silver hair falling over his shoulders held up his hands, begging the crowd’s attention. His flattened forehead sloped to a prominent hook nose. A cotton tunic that might once have been white hung limply down his ample body. Large jade disks adorned his earlobes. His assistants, shorter in stature, busily opened cotton sacks.
“I am Shanah,” the old one called out, “and I come from a land far south of here. We are Mayans.” Limping in front of the crowd, he waved a blue parrot feather at the spectators to get their attention.
“In the past you have seen many traders with fine goods, I am sure.” His voice rose. “But never have you traded for the nectar of the gods.” His long fingers, studded with gold rings, reached into a leather pouch and pulled out small brown beans.
“These, my friends, are cacao.” He displayed handfuls of the beans to the people near him. Others were pushing closer to see. “Where I come from, only the privileged can enjoy this ambrosia. But you may trade for every cacao bean I have.” Shanah wiped the glistening sweat from his forehead. Women began whispering to each other about love potions and eternal life with the gods.
“All you need to do is grind the beans and mix them with hot water. They become nectar,” Shanah said. “Drink this brew and you feel exalted. Drink more and you feel like a deity.”
Men now teased women, insisting on bartering for the beans. Words of sexual prowess, a baby a year was mentioned and much bawdy laughter drifted among the crowd. Shanah’s helpers handed small samples of the brown liquid in mugs to a few lucky people. The exotic odor rose toward their nostrils.
Heals Many Wounds observed the old man closely, noticing again his strange features and clothing, his ability to draw attention to himself. The old one disrupted his vibrant speech by coughing.
I too, have learned to speak in this manner, the young shaman thought. It is like weaving magic – conjuring the images of the gods.
Shanah continued. “Now hear me, dear friends. These cacao beans are rare, and so I ask in trade only the finest turquoise stones or antler bone, but perhaps I may also accept well-fashioned flint knives.” He approached people close to him, the shapely beans in his open hand. His black eyes glittered. “Who will be the first to prepare the nectar of the gods for their family and friends?” His voice challenged the people to step forward. “It may even help you alleviate aches and pains.”
Entranced by what they heard, the spectators bartered eagerly. A satisfied smile spread across the trader’s wrinkled face. Then he turned away as a rasping cough tore at him, weariness in his features.
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Heals Many Wounds, like the crowd, felt gripped with fascination. Is it possible? Could this be the makings of a magic potion? Would I be able to dispel my mother’s dark moods? He was excited, but cautious. He tried to approach the old peddler, but the people thronged around him. The young shaman heard a woman curse when someone knocked the pine nuts out of her hand. It was as if a fever began to spread among the crowd. “All I have is this flint knife to trade.” Heals Many Wounds pushed through the crowd and held out the weapon.
Shanah grunted his appreciation of the fine workmanship. “Yes,” he said, “I can trade with you.” He slipped the flint knife into the pocket of his tunic, took a handful of cacao beans from the leather pouch and held them in his hand. “These will cure any disease known to man,” he promised, coughing, a stale odor emanating from his body.
The young shaman knew the stench might indicate disease, but he wanted to believe the trader’s claim. “Have you tried this magic potion? If it will, like you say, cure any disease, it would be good for you to drink it. Perhaps it can turn back the seasons of your youth?”
“Oh, no. The brew of these beans is much too precious for me to partake of. My life is almost over.” Shanah became thoughtful. “This precious nectar will enliven the innards of much younger men and women, so they will arouse one another.”
Heals-Many-Wounds was fascinated. “My mother has suffered the deaths of loved ones, and she is no longer the woman she was,” he said. “Would this cacao nectar help her be happy again?”
“Most assuredly. Drinking this, your mother will be cured very soon. She may even want to admit a new man in her life.”
“I have another question,” Heals-Many-Wounds said. “Have you by chance traveled with traders of shells, copper and rare birds along your route? Forgive me, I only ask this to learn of the whereabouts of my long lost brother-in-law.”
“No, my friend. We are unique and would never join other traders,” the old man replied, his nose up in the air.
The young shaman persisted. “Where is this land of the Mayans of which you spoke?”
“It lies many moons south of here, through deserts and mountains. Our lands border a great water, and its shores rise to verdant jungles. There are temples and ceremonial centers of vivid beauty, ruled by powerful kings and priests.” A dreamy look washed over Shanah’s face. He trembled. “Oh, I long to be back there now. I am tired of traveling. My home under the palms calls me, and I sorely miss my three life mates.” His face flushed, and the jade ornaments fluttered in his lobes. “The wealth I’ll bring my women will make them happy, and they will be generous with their love for me.” He coughed, waved and limped away. A cold gust of wind whirled through the village.
Heals-Many-Wounds vowed not to mention this encounter to his mother, who was ever fearful of the cures strangers might offer. But he would prepare the hot cacao for her very soon. He hoped she would accept the brew and that it would cure her dark moods. He started down the path toward home, thrilled at the prospect of sharing this great gift with her.
END
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