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320 SMITHSONIAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO ANTHROPOLOGY NUMBER 23
but they also set the stage for the dark doings of the
Charcoal Cruncher:
With startling abruptness I broke out of the cornfield onto the tiny
square of packed earth which serves as Chep's front porch. A quavering
"Buenas tardes" brought Chep leaping out of his doorway (he later
confessed he thought I must have been some Ladino come to kill him).
His home is in traditional style—one room 13' X 15', walls of muddaubed
wattle, a peaked thatch roof topped by a cross. Inside, sitting on
the ground around the fire, were Chep's mother, his wife, his five-yearold
daughter, Maruch, and his eleven-month-old son, Maryan.
The women fired questions at Chep, Maruch pressed close to her
mother, staring at me wide-eyed.
The parents were very indulgent. Each time that Maryan began to cry
he was offered the breast—through a slit in the side of his mother's
blouse. Maruch was kept happy with peanut brittle brought from San
Cristobal. Even when Maryan broke a pottery bowl the parents only
laughed.
At about eight o'clock the mother climbed into bed with Maryan, and
grandmother with Maruch. There is a genuine double bed for Chep, wife
and baby on the outside edge, protected by an encircling arm. I listened
to the sounds of the night; within the hut the falling of burnt embers, the
Once, they say. ... It was told to me at home. My
mother told me about it long ago. There was a
woman. She just cut off her head. It would go to
every house to crunch charcoal. She swallowed the
charcoal and that maybe is what she lived on, it
seems. But the woman went to bed first and then
when he was asleep. . . . She had a husband. She left
her husband sleeping. Her flesh was left lying in a
heap, just her head went. It went to each house to
crunch charcoal. It frightened people. If it was seen it
would flee right away. Rolling, it went up to the
eaves.
You see, who knows if it's a witch or something
else, who knows. It casts a spell when it arrives at
each of the houses like that. The people say it causes
sickness. They get sick from it. If they are frightened
by it they die. That's why they say that, I think.
Now, today, they aren't seen anymore. I never
hear about such things. But once there were a great
many. That's the way the people used to be. They
saw a lot of Charcoal Crunchers. Just their heads
rolled about, crunching charcoal at the firesides.
One time it was spied on. Boiling water was
thrown on it. It went out shouting. Then it was
discovered who it was. When she woke up she was
burnt. Then it was discovered. It was seen that it was
her. She didn't let herself be seen of course. But her
husband spoke. "How did that happen to you?
Where did you burn yourself?" asked her husband.
He scolded her.
The Charcoal Cruncher
T47
snores of the aged one, the rustling of Maryan on the bed, and the cat on
the roof. The hut seemed wrapped in cricket song. Occasionally the
steady sound would be punctuated by the soft laughter of neighbors, and
every few moments the pulsing of a drum, lightened by the scarcely
audible piping of a flute, would reach up from the church far below.
At 4:30 a.m. the wife sat up in bed, adjusted her blouse and skirt,
stepped down to the floor, bent over and hoisted Maryan up on her back.
[She] proceeded to fetch a pail of water to soak the corn and beans. A
half hour later the grandmother arose, went out, came in, washed her
quern, and reground the corn dough. The two women faced each other
silently, ther faces lit by the yellow lamp-flame, their backs in wavelike
motion, two black eyes peeping out of a white shawl. I wonder if the
lulling sound of the corn being dropped by handfuls into the water,
swirled around and finally ground is as soothing to the sleep-filled
husband as it was to sleep-filled me. It seemed to represent the security
of the promise of another meal and the attentiveness of a faithful wife.
At 6:15 Chep was up and about. Chep was handed a cupful of water
which was used for two mouthwashes, followed by much handwashing,
then face-washing.
Breakfast over, we made out departure, slipping down the path,
Chep's bright rose, blue, and yellow ribbons shining in the sun, resplendent
amidst the bright green leaves of corn.
Bweno, 7a ti vo7ne ta xalik chilo7iltabat ta jna
chislo7iltabe jme7 ti vo7ne, 7oy la jun 7antz, ja7 no
la sjol ta stuch' lok'el ta xbat ta ju-jun na ta sk'ux
7ak'al, li 7ak'ale, ta sbik' ech'el 7i ja7 nan chipan
ya7el, pero li 7antze, chvay ba7yi, 7i ja7 to k'alal
vayem xa 7oxe, 7oy smalal te vayem chikta li
smalale, ja7 te pumul xkom li sbek'tale ja7 no 7ox
xbat ti sjole, ta xbat ta ju-jun na ta xk'ux 7ak'al, ta
ssibtas krixchanoetik, ti mi 7ilate, ta xjatav la lok'el ta
7ora, xbalet xa la muyel ta nuk' na.
Va7i 7un, jna7tik mi j7ak'-chamel mi k'usi nan
ya7el taje, jna7tik ta spay chamel 7i bu xk'ot ta ju-jun
na chak taje, ti yu7un la chalik li krixchanoetike ta
xak' chamel ta x7ipajik 7o, k'usi, ti mi xi7ik 7oe
yu7un ta xchamik, por 7eso ja7 yech chalik chka7i
vo7on chak taje.
7Ora lavie, ch'abal xa bu xvinaj, mu xa bu xka7i
yech pero ti vo7ne 7ep to 7ox la ta j-mek, naka to
7ox la ja7 yech krixchanoetik ti vo7ne 7ep chilik ta
j-mek jk'ux-7ak'al ta j-mek, ja7 no 7ox sjol xbalet, ta
sk'ux 7ak'al ta ti7 k'ok\ k'usi.
7Oy jun bweltae, 7ipa7iat la, 7ik'ebbat la ech'el
k'ak'al vo7, x7avet xa la lok'el 7un, ja7 to la vinaj 7o
ti buy 7a li yajval 7une, k'ak'em xa la 7isakub 7un, ja7
to vinaj 7o 7ilat 7o ti ja7 7une, mu xak' sba 7iluk a7a,
pero 7iyal li smalale. "K'un x7elan 7apase, bu
lak'ak'?" xi li smalale. 7I7ilin la.