Sky People (31 page)

“Not since I was a boy. The Sky People do not come when strangers walk our land.”

“Do you mean the tourists?” I asked.

“The tourists have changed everything. Look at the children. They are very curious about the white man. Soon they will want things of the white man. My son, for example, is one of the drivers who bring the tourists here. He wears the clothes of the white man. Jeans and expensive boots. Gold jewelry like the white man. We have never worn boots. Sandals or barefoot—that is our way. We need to return to the jungle before the Sky Gods return.”

“But clothing does not mean he has forsaken the old ways,” I said, trying to reassure him.

“I am not a good example, either. I have been the shaman to the rich, white people.” He smiled, revealing his gold teeth, the symbol today and in ancient times of the privileged class. “Perhaps it is my fault. I should never have been a healer to the rich people.” I looked at my driver, hoping he would change the subject and somehow comfort him, but he kept his head bowed and stared at his hands.

“Have you ever seen UFOs in your village?” I asked, attempting to change the subject again.

“Many times, but they are not the Sky People. You have to be careful of them. Some are good and some are bad. The bad ones take people and sometimes they never return. I tell my children and grandchildren to avoid them and to always be home at night, but then, they are not always safe at home. The bad ones can take you anyway. We pray to the Sky Gods to protect
us. It has been a long time since anyone has been taken by the bad ones, but we always must be alert.” He stood and shook my hand. “I must go now, Doctora. I am meeting with a group of people who have asked for a ceremony. I must prepare.”

I
have often thought of Canek. He was a man who lived in two worlds but was not happy about that role. Although convinced that the day would come when the Sky People would come for the Maya, he was still concerned about the future of his people. I wondered if his predictions of the future were tainted by exposure to the outside world, a world that he feared for his grandchildren. Yet, I have heard similar stories from American Indian elders and wise men. That, in itself, lent credibility to his prophetic statements
.

O
n the east coast of Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula resides the great and mysterious ancient Maya outpost of Tulum, formally known by the Mayan word
Zama,
meaning “city of dawn.” The ruins, which overlook the Caribbean Sea, was one of the last cities inhabited and built by the Mayas
.

The first detailed description of the ruins was published by John L. Stephens and Frederick Catherwood in 1843 in the book
Incidents of Travel in Yucatan.
The city emphasized the importance of the worship of the Descending God
.

Tulum has a history of UFO sightings. Among the locals, there is talk about an underground station for UFOs. This chapter relates one of those stories
.

Outside the ancient city of Tulum, a circus-like atmosphere exists. Indigenous dancers, food courts, and guides confront the tourists, who have made Tulum the third most popular Maya site to visit.

Anyone who visits this ancient city is likely to see the age-old Dance of the Voladores (Dance of the Flyers), an ancient Mesoamerican acrobatic dance. The ritual consists of climbing a 100-foot pole from which four of the five participants launch themselves tied with ropes in a descent toward the ground. The fifth remains on top of the pole, dancing and playing a flute and drum.

There are various interpretations for this dance, including the belief that the whirling dancers represent the Sky Gods who
flew through the air. One elder told me that the dance represented the Descending God, when he came to Earth.

Upon entering the site, I found an English-speaking guide, Geraldo, who for 300 pesos agreed to accompany me on a tour of the site. As we made our way to
el Castillo
, the Castle, and the view of the Caribbean Sea, he told me about his family. He said he was the only son in a family of seven male siblings who had a paying job. The remainder of his family farmed the land that had been in his family for as long as anyone could remember. “Those days are in danger,” he said. “The tourists come and we fall victim to money. Everything is money these days. People want TVs, computers, cell phones. My brother wants a computer. He is only seven. Life has changed for the people, and it will never be the same.”

As we approached the cliff overlooking the blue Caribbean Sea, several jets flew past in formation, much to the surprise of the awestruck tourists. All heads turned upward as we watched the acrobatics of the pilots. “Is there an air show nearby?” I asked.

“The airplanes come from Mexico City. They practice here. This is the team that chases UFOs. They have to be fast and gymnastic.”

“Gymnastic?”

“How you say? They have to be able to make turns, drop, and roll like the UFOs.”

“Oh yes. I understand. Have you ever seen them chase a UFO?”

“Many times.”

“How many UFOs have you seen?”

“Many. Many.”

“Can you tell me about your most recent sighting?”

“Sí.”
He guided me to a concrete bench for two in a shaded area overlooking the Caribbean Sea. Below were hundreds of people playing in the sea and sunbathing. “How do you say ‘dark before dark’ in English?” he asked.

“Dusk?” I asked.

“Sí
. That is the word in English. It was dusk. I was walking through the park with my friend who is a guard. He was checking to make sure there were no hiding tourists. They like to hide out so they can spend the night on the beach, but it is not allowed.”

“I heard that tourists try to do that. I can understand their reasons. It is so beautiful.”

“Mostly German tourists and Swedish,” he said. “Gringos are more respectful.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “So what happened with the UFO?” I asked, trying to keep him on the subject.

“My friend Ignacio and me [sic] were walking toward the exit, when all of a sudden the night turned to daylight. We looked upward and then toward the sea trying to locate the cause of the light. That’s when we saw this huge craft that was shining a blinding orange light over the ocean. It cast this strange glow as far as you could see. The craft was just sitting there.”

“Can you describe what you mean by sitting?” I asked.

“It stayed there in one place. Not moving.”

“How long did you see it?”

“It stayed there for two or three minutes and then it dived into the sea. We never saw it again.”

“Have you seen other examples of UFOs that were similar?” I asked.

“I have seen the fiery, orange balls several times. Every time we see them, we see the fighter jets. We think the military does not understand them or what they are. I told Ignacio that we should go to Mexico City and tell the soldiers what we know, but he says they will not listen.”

“What would you tell them?” I asked.

“I would tell them that the UFOs live under the sea. I do not know where they come from—maybe from space. Maybe they have always lived there, but whoever they are, the Mexican military chases them, and to me that makes them important.”

“I collect stories about UFOs,” I said. “I have other stories of people who have told me about spacecraft that dive into water.”

“They must have a station—how you say?”

“A base?” I asked.

“Sí
. A base. It makes sense. No one would bother them in the sea. It is too deep. Perhaps they live in a world of water. Or maybe, a world with no water and they find the sea an interesting place to live.”

As we left the park, I invited Geraldo to join me for lunch. When he hesitated, I suggested that I would like to include his story in a book I planned to write. He hesitated again, and I realized that he needed the money from his job for his family. When I offered him three $20 bills for his time, he smiled. “Thanks, Señora. You just bought my afternoon, and evening, if you like,” he said. We made our way back to the entrance aboard a people mover, which was the bed of a construction truck pulled by a tractor. There, among the hustle and bustle of the tourist scene, we found a table. After ordering cold drinks and tacos, Geraldo began to tell me about an event that happened in his village some eleven years ago.

“I grew up in a small village near here. It was a famous village for its resistance during the Yucatan’s Caste War. I am very proud of my little village. It survived fifty years of Mexican army raids before the war ended.”

“I have read about the Maya uprising and the Caste War.”

“My mother’s grandfather was part of the resistance. My family still lives in the village. They can verify the story I will tell.” He paused, finished his Coca-Cola, and called for another.

“It was a dark night in the village. It had been raining and there were hurricane warnings. People were worried. The wind blew violently and the rains poured down upon us. My family was thinking of leaving and going inland. It would be a difficult trek. We had no cars. Nothing but our feet. As my mother packed some food, a brilliant light flooded our small house. We all ran to the windows, seeking the source of the light. My grandmother yelled for us to get in the corner of the house for safety. I didn’t obey. I ran out into the night and that is when I saw it. Overhead, just at tree-top level, there was a UFO. It was round, and it lit up the whole village. The rain stopped. The wind stopped. The UFO was like an umbrella. It was protecting us. For several hours the
UFO stayed over our village. When the wind and rains lessened, it moved on. Some say it protected the village from flooding. Others gave reports of abduction. For me, I saw it, but I cannot explain it. I don’t know if any of the stories were true.”

“Did you see any beings?” I asked.

“None. Just the craft with bright white lights protecting the village from the rains.”

“What did your village elders say about the event?” I asked.

“They said the Sky Gods came back to protect us. They said our village survived because it was a reminder of the injustice visited upon the Maya people by the Mexican government. If it were destroyed, there would be no reminder.”

“Do you believe this is true?” I asked.

“Sí
, Señora. I saw the craft and I do believe the UFO protected us. They wanted our village to be a reminder of injustice.”

“Have you ever seen an alien or a Star Traveler?” I asked.

“Only once, and then I am not sure.”

“Could you explain?” Geraldo took a drink from the Coca-Cola bottle and finished off his taco.

“I’m a simple man, Señora. I grew up in the jungles. I am not one to be afraid of things. I was always taught to be observant. I am a good hunter, but one afternoon, while hunting with my cousin, I came upon a strange creature. I thought at first it was a man, but then I’m not sure what I saw. It walked like a man, but would drop down on all four feet and hands and run through the forest like a cat. I swear to you, when it was on its feet it looked like a man, but when it walked on its hands and feet, it was like an animal. It also changed colors and climbed trees like a monkey. I had never seen such a creature. It was
magnifico
!”

“How long did you follow it?” I asked.

“To be true, I don’t know. I was too excited and perhaps a little frightened, too. I followed it for some time, and then it stopped, stood up, took a human-like form, and looked around as if checking the surroundings. Then, it bent down and pulled a long machine from under the forest trees. The machine was
about three meters long and about a half meter wide (ten feet by two feet). I was surprised at how easily the creature moved it, almost like it was a huge toy. I thought it must be some kind of special material and yet it looked like metal, but it couldn’t be. Otherwise one person could not handle it so easily.”

“What did the creature do with the machine?” I asked.

“It climbed inside. It was some kind of a flying machine, but it did not make any noises like an airplane. I watched it for a few seconds and then suddenly the machine began to spin and spin.” He paused and made a circular motion with his finger. “It moved faster and faster, and limbs and leaves from the jungle floor rotated around and around. It slowly moved upward and in a flash, it was gone.”

“Where were you when all this was happening?” I asked.

“I was hidden. I came out after it was gone.”

“Where do you think the machine went?” I asked.

“I’m sure it was from space. That machine was his spaceship, but I don’t think it flew to another planet in that machine. It was too small. There must have been someone waiting in the sky—a bigger ship.” He paused and drained the Coca-Cola bottle. “The old ones say that the holy men could turn into animals. I thought that perhaps he could be one of our shaman, but they do not have spaceships. So it could not be them.”

“Did you tell your elders about the encounter?” I asked.

“Shortly after I saw the man creature from the sky, I got this job. I think my good luck was brought by the Sky Man. He was magic. You see, many people wanted this job. But I got it. I never told anyone about the creature, otherwise my magic would be lost.”

“But you told me,” I said.

“Yes. But you are not from my village. An outsider cannot break my magic. And now you are a part of the magic. Don’t you see?” I shook my head, waiting for him to explain his logic. “What are the odds that I would meet you today?”

“I really don’t know,” I said.

“It must be a thousand to one, maybe ten thousand to one,” he said. “Of all the people who came to Tulum today, you chose me for your guide. That is magic. And then you are investigating UFOs. That is magic. And finally, I can tell a story that has never been told, to a writer who can share it with the world. You can be my voice and let people know that UFOs are real and space creatures are real. I believe the Sky Man wants us to know that he exists. It is magic, don’t you see?”

I
t was hard not to get caught up in Geraldo’s enthusiasm. I have only seen him once since the first time we met. On a return trip in 2010, I visited Tulum and I spotted him standing near the gate. He rushed toward me and we walked the ancient city together as old friends. He still talks about the magic of the Sky Man. Every time I hear The Lovin’ Spoonful’s song asking if I believe in magic, Geraldo comes to mind. All it takes is the first line and my mind drifts back to that day when a young Maya man who had firsthand knowledge of UFOs and Sky People convinced me that my coming to Tulum was part of the magic planned by the space traveler
.