For the population that inhabits the Guatemalan highlands, San Simon also called Maximon or Ry Laj Man (Mayan name), represents an extremely controversial figure: synonym of prosperity and happiness for some, but also of witchcraft for others. In general, the tradition identifies him as the protector of the drunks and for this reason enjoys limitless devotion. At the end of century XIX, the image of the “saint” was adored by the gamblers, who offered him money, liqueur or tobacco. In San Andres Itzapa, the coloured house where the statue of San Simon is guarded (represented as an old seated man, handling a bottle of liqueur) remains opened nightlong on October 28, receiving hundreds of devout people who come from every part of Central America to tell him their own hopes, asking favors and leaving offerings such as alcohol, money and flowers. The procession towards the nail head is a complex journey in the Latin American syncretism, in which gestures like the frenetic ignition of candles and dances, accompanied by “marimba” (xilophone) and mariachi music, are continuously repeated. In the temple, the smell of ignited candles is stirred with the scent of tobacco and the various grasses taken as offering. When finally every faithful succeeds to catch up the altar in order to speak with San Simon, he undergoes the final purification (“las limpias”), through a pure alcohol lavender executed by the shaman of the temple. This man finishes the day so drunk that he needs two persons to support him. In an exciting mix of sacred and profane, the celebrations continue until late in the night and confusion, smoke, music and drunkenness grow too. The guards of the statue begin a ritual dance in order to celebrate Maximon, many gestures are repeated until the loss of the senses and remember the symbols of the Mayan cosmovision (stars, jaguars, snakes).

Now it’s deep in the night and in the streets of San Andres starved dogs and drunk men remain alone, but this happens in every angle of the world. Perhaps they asked to San Simon a house and a life without alcohol, but for the miracles is always better to wait for the following day…

In the last days we have begun a new and stimulating phase of our travel: after many days of intense searches and some disappointment, we have finally found two volunteering projects. We realize indeed the dream to share in a very intense way part of our journey with the Latin American people. Both the activities approach our interests and professions. The nomadic travel takes a pause in geographic sense, but our willing to explore and to know this complex and coloured world does not diminish, maybe enters in a still more conscious phase. In these days, under the deep contradictions of Guatemala, we often discuss on the indigenous issue, the traditions and the discriminations, the real opportunity to help these people. In Guatemala good part of the social support comes guaranteed through a net of associations, NGO and volunteers, but we discover that in this world there are many false promises. Quetzaltenango (Xela) offers a wide range of volunteering projects in the field of renewable energy: Xelateco is a young manufacturing enterprise, concerned with the fabrication of low cost environmentally sound infrastructure improvements (biodigesters, windmills, water pumps and filters, solar water heaters, micro-hydroelectric); Combustibles Ecologicos SA is another small enterprise interested in the production of biodiesel from agricultural wastes… bienvenidos a Guatemala, the country of the “eternal spring”.

In Guatemala the social inequality catches up unthinkable levels, pushing us to a deep reflection on the situation of the Central American country. In our travel through the regions of Huehuetenango, Alta Verapaz and Quiché, in the north-western and remotest zone of the country, we noticed the situation of abandonment and indigenous social marginalization that the communities living on the mountains suffer. The scarcely productive land and the economy of subsistence continuously threaten those villages, reason for which the familiar nuclei lead a semi-nomadic life or are forced to migrate towards the coast, Chiapas or United States, when they have choice.

The community of Santa Barbara (Huehuetenango) represents a dramatic example: widely unproductive agriculture (95% of the territory is argillaceous), chronic absence of basic services (health, education), water and food refueling distant hours by walking. The situation is so difficult that it becomes evident the lack of the communitarian spirit which always characterizes the indigenous nuclei and that we have found in every village of Chiapas. Guatemala is remembering the first ten years of peace after a bloody civil war and often it is punished by natural catastrophes (lastly, the hurricane Stan), but this cannot be an excuse to perpetuate the discrimination against indigenous people. It’s sad to notice how much attention still enjoy ghosts of the past such us the former president Rios Montt, implied in the extermination of entire Mayan villages at the time of the civil war.

We find the right colectivo leaving from Coban to Uspantan, in the heart of a territory nearly unexplored and inhabited by Quiche’ indigenous people, a heterogeneous group of Mayan origin that maintains unique traditions and whose women dress in a particularly elegant and colored way. Incredibly elaborated are the huipiles (hand decorated garments) from the Ixil Mayan villages of Nebaj, Chajul and Cotzal, more inside in the mountains. The road follows strong climbings along a hard way, often interrupted by maintenance jobs. We help two boys who had an accident with their pick-up, but it seems to be pretty usual here. Got to Uspantan, we change bus and we continue the travel until Santa Cruz de Quiche’, passing through the calm village of Sacapulas. We speak a lot with the people who share with us short distances of road, often young women with their children. In Quiche’ we are abandoned near a so-called terminal de buses, where we take the only available camioneta: for the first time it is an original school bus completely restored and coloured, one of those typically Central American. In a crescent atmosphere of agitation, we change bus in Los Encuentros, a trafficked crossroad. It finally seems to be the right car in order to reach Quetzaltenango, but after some kilometers the motor extinguishes and therefore we proceed to another change… as usual the bus is full of people, baggages and animals, but the driver begins a race against time and we fast approach to our target, even if the maintenance jobs oblige us to long stops. Unexpectedly we are left another time at a crossroad, it’s dark and we are travelling from more than twelve hours, but Xela (Quetzaltenango) is near and with the last two changes of colectivo we finally reach downtown.

An incredible experience ends and it seems to be a good prelude of what we will find in Central America: the chaos in its purest expression!

The craziest driver of the last four months leads us from Flores to Coban, where the first peaks of the Guatemalan Sierra Madre rise. We observe a wonderful but unusual territory, as the numerous German immigrates exported the taste for the mountain wooden huts, rendering the landscape almost alpine. In a day of debilitating movements, we visit the natural reservoir of Semuc Champey, a system of green emerald water pools, hidden in the forest. We spend the evening looking for information on how to travel until Quetzaltenango through the “Sierra de los Cuchumatanes”, a journey in a territory that very little people seem to know, but a road should exist…

We were dreaming a Mayan city lost in the jungle, impressive temples lived by monkeys, snakes and tucans. We were dreaming a forgotten world, to be explored in complete solitude, leaving space only to the imagination of ancient and golden times… we are allowed to feel all these intense emotions at the archaeological site of Tikal: a gigantic Mayan complex, totally dipped in the forest. There, we have passed an entire afternoon trying to climb the temples and observing with the eyes turned towards the sky the phrenetic life of the monkeys (monos araña and saraguatos) and of the other numerous animals. Only the beauty of an intense and short sunset, took us back to reality, hiding us this incredible ”mundo perdido”, lost world, and its masters…

The song of the jungle awakes us very early and while we have breakfast we are wrapped by a misty fog. In our mind slide fast the memories of three months spent in Mexico, looks and smiles of the people known or just grazed… crossing the frontier between Mexico and Guatemala do not involve the tragic intensity of travelling from the United States to Mexico: simply we move on the other side of the river Usumacinta, from Frontera Corozal to Bethel. Here we find again the same jungle, the same bajareques (houses of wood and adobe, a mix of mud and straw), the same pleasant smiles. The unpaved, muddy road drives us along green grasses and hills, until the lake of Petèn Itzà. We start to notice the first differences with Mexico, the first days in an unknown country are always the most difficult, but also the most stimulating. Walking between the island of Flores and the pueblo of Santa Elena, we breathe an Asian atmosphere, even if it’s an image that lasts for a second: a lot of powder and hundreds of “risciò” and small vehicles adapted to the transport of passengers.

The last Mexican night flies away slowly but inexorably, like the course of the rio Usumacinta, where we are staying now. The road that has lead us from the highlands near Comitàn to Frontera Corozal, it is a hard way through an incredible landscape. After the wonderful Lagunas de Montebello, some blue and green emerald lakes encircled by pines, the road falls down towards the jungle, along the border with Guatemala. That’s why it is called “carretera fronteriza”. Until the village of Benemerito de Las Americas, we observe the fruit of decades of totally irrational exploitation of the territory. With the promise of an easy land, the campesinos from the highlands were sent here (see the experience of ejido Emiliano Zapata), every time deeper in the heart of the Lacandon jungle. But the absence of a clever agricultural project forced to an extensive and unproductive exploitation of the land. As dramatic consequence, we see a forest in agony and the return of the large estate owners, in places where they could never have arrived even with enormous resources. Frontera Corozal isn’t free from these problems, but its inhabitants seem to have found a valid alternative in projects of “ecotourism”, thanks to the beauty of the river Usumacinta and the wealth of life along its sides (finally we have seen the howler monkeys!). Moreover a few kilometers from the community there are Mayan ruins such as Yaxchilan and Bonampak.

We spent some days in San Cristobal, the historical and touristic heart of Chiapas. The city is really pleasant and interesting, maybe to much visited. As usual we have been attracted in a special way by the market and “artesania” quarters, thanks to the eclectic contribution of the women from the pueblos situated on the highlands around the city (San Juan Chamula, Amatenango del Valle, Simojovel, Zinacantàn, Oventic, Chenalhò…). In the hostel where we were lodged, we met some funny people and we spent a good time. Every day, walking along the narrow and coloured streets of San Cristobal, we discovered many new locals, bars and “comedores”, but our thoughts are mainly projected towards Guatemala and the place where to cross the border.

Last part. Early in the morning the micro leaves from San Quintin to Las Margaritas. An even harder trail in comparison with the one from Ocosingo. After some hours of travel we reach the “caracol” La Realidad: as our driver knows anyone and stops for a pause, we talk with some people, trying to understand if we can stay in the community. Unfortunately we are not so lucky and the “autoridades” cannot receive us, therefore we decide to continue. In the following days, we know a woman who works in the communities (volunteering here is generally well accepted) and she confirms to us that with strangers, people react in unforeseeable ways: if you are not accepted, the refusal is inexorable. After nearly ten hours of travel we reach Las Margaritas, a small city where we stop for the night: once more we find ourselves in a world of concrete houses, paved roads and cars… something sadly familiar.

An unforgettable experience in the heart of the Latin American life is concluded, we are tired but excited. We think about the fortune of being allowed to know the indigenous communities of Lacandon jungle in this way. Maybe the works of road pavement will carry some light changes in the life of people who inhabit these places, but surely they will ruin the authentic atmosphere we have breathed… how much instable is the equilibrium between progress and maintenance of the popular traditions?

Fourth part. At night, Manuèl and his wife told us the history of their life, that is the history of many campesinos, indigenous people and Latin Americans, before and after them. An adventure begun in ’67, when ejido Emiliano Zapata was still an idea on paper and the Lacandon jungle was many times greater than now. They told us about a year of sacrifices in order to save money for the flight and their first inspection in the territory of the future ejido: even if the forest scared them, Manuèl had no choice and in ’68 abandoned his pueblo and took possession of its portion of land, together with his wife. Then followed years of hard fight against the jungle, hunger and diseases: of the 65 founders of the community, only twenty resisted the first year. For some months they ate caracoles (shells), then succeeded to carry the first animals, corn and the fruit plants. After many years, Manuèl shows us proudly his nephews and the school they have been able to build. We have the feeling that the community works very well and the people help themselves to each other, but there are still well-known and usual problems. The school does not supply a continuous service (teachers come from Ocosingo and change too often), the doctor passes once a week and never succeed to visit everyone (the roads in the region are unpaved and hard). Drugs are used with parsimony, but often they are something unapproachable…

While we eat our “sopa de verduras”, we think to the last words of Manuèl: “Young people go away because they do not find any job here and we are getting old, someone has already died. But we will resist until the last day on our piece of land, conquered with sweat, blood and tears”. In order to greet us, Manuèl sings the hymn of the ejido, he and his wife start crying: we learn that in the difficult things you can find the most serene way of living…

Third part. Adolfo awakes us very early in the morning, but we are slow and after a short breakfast and the research of the boots, when we are ready to leave, the sun is already high on the horizon… we begin to walk along a path of about ten kilometers, that will take us on the sides of the Laguna Miramar. Immediately we realize that the intense rainfall of the night have deeply marked the way, reducing it to a mud strip. We share a long part of the way with a man from the ejido and his two sons, exchanging some impressions, but above all listening their fascinating language, the tzotzil (together to the tzeltal, the main of the languages of Mayan origin still spoken in Chiapas). It becomes almost an epic adventure, between milpas (cornfields), skeletal horses and jungle, but at the end the hard work is repaid: the lagoon is a crystalline water mirror, encircled by a luxuriant vegetation and lacking in human traces. For some hours we forget the whole world, but finally we need to return to the ejido along the same path, and it carries us back to the reality.

Second part. It’s early in the morning, but the emotion keep us wide awake: we put all our dreams on the “camioneta” that will take us to San Quintin, ready to share them with the other people who undertake the travel towards the Lacandon jungle with us. Left Ocosingo, the road sweetly follows the valleys covered by pines and corn fields… we go down slowly, the air gets more humid and the forest becomes more and more green. The unpaved and muddy road pushes us through small villages, from the wooden huts appear the looks astonished but curious of the children. Exceeded the caracol zapatista of Francisco Gomez, the pines leave space to the jungle and begins to rain. Late in the evening we finally reach Saint Quintin, where the road finishes: the feeling is to find a confused and disordered community. Therefore, we decide to walk until ejido Emiliano Zapata, where the “Secretario de turismo”, Adolfo receives us. We are lodged in a splendid cabaña close to the river, surrounded by the jungle and the howls of its animals. After a short swim in the river, we eat with other three boys in the house of señor Manuèl, his wife prepares us a delicious “pollo en mole”, cooked on firewood. We are very tired and in the dark of the jungle we fall aslept without offering resistance.

First part. During the period spent in Ocosingo, we have been observers of a hard but intense life. Day after day, people became more and more friendly and the last evening we knew a family coming from a pueblo on the road to San Cristobal, all together with the father who sold candies in the public square. The mother, a very young woman, was so proud of her five sons and she had all the reasons as they were beautiful, curious and friendly. We passed all the evening playing with them… we think that the concept of poverty cannot be defined in absolute terms: happiness is to be astonished and smile for the simplest things and those three children transmitted us this feeling. Every community, every people should be able to satisfy its elementary needs (food, water, health and peace) following the road traced from its own history and culture. Freedom is not for anyone!

The story that follows comes from our experience in the Lacandon Forest (“Selva Lacandona”), to tightened contact with some indigenous communities of Chiapas: a few days that however allowed us to graze an authentic, unforgettable and sometimes extremely contradictory situation.

Chiapas is the Mexican state where the echoes from the past are more evident and the indigenous population is more numerous. We receive a further confirmation of this fact in Ocosingo: it is a quite but lively market, where many people from the nearby villages and communities come to sell land products and craftsmanship. We perfectly know that in the valleys around us the world is divided in two parts, but we are intentionally visiting these places without preconceptions. In addition, sometimes it seems quite difficult to talk with people about these themes… in the market “Tianguis campesino”, women who sell goods surrounded by their sons, give us sweet and unforgettable smiles. We are in a new world, which causes us deep emotions.