I sat on the little silver-painted stool in the middle of the room, having agreed to a cleansing by Francisco, the herbatero (Maya shaman)

A white pillar candle burned on a green wooden table surrounded by a few herbs and a plastic bottle with a bright green liquid in it.

His name was Elly. Well, it was much longer than that, but I can’t pronounce it and Elly fits just fine. We manifested him standing there beside the road, looking to catch a ride. At five o’clock that morning the three of us piled into the car and headed south into the Zona Maya with the intention of finding a Maya shaman. We wanted to do some investigating in the jungle and we thought it might be prudent to start by getting the blessing of the Maya since we would be digging