During my reading of Ak’abal’s poems, I was struck by never feeling I was anywhere other than here. “Here” being in his world and mine, right now. Ak’abal’s poetry has a thrumming presence to it, a contemporary murmur that relaxes you into the moments you spend reading. I think it is his use of language that settles us into the poem, his structure which conversationally pulls us in, and his subjects that while historical, anthropomorphized, or otherwise separate from now, appear real and textured. Ak’abal declares in the introduction that he wishes to “call ourselves contemporary Mayas with pride.” In so many ways these poems echo that mission.

At multiple points in his poems, it feels as if thoughts are occurring naturally to the poem itself. It feels live and current. In In the Woodlands, enjambment of the final three lines makes for natural pauses as the writer considers each new sensation. Being wrapped in a woollen poncho, dreaming, is like falling asleep… in the woodlands. Another example is in a poem with a completely different tone but equally effective delivery 500 years. The space left before the final declaration and the original premise of the poem, there is an orality to it, and thus a presence.

It is not just that we are present in Ak’abal’s poetry, it is that time feels different as well. In our McLeod reading we learned about the different forms of Mayan cosmology and the way cycles, some long and some short, create a different reference to time. I see cycles all throughout these poems. In Corn Harvest Maize is brought from field to kernel in a cycle the begins and ends with walking. Human input that brings the ever-present food through a day. In Paradise, I see a much longer cycle taking shape, one which evokes a period before the colonial, the christian, and ends without resolving it. The maize goes from plentiful to forbidden. What is most compelling is when these poems are put in the context of their places within the collection of poems. Here, a third even broader temporal cycle appears, one that doesn’t have clear beginnings or endings. The weight of the 500 years poem hangs over this cycle, reminding us of the weight the Maya are forced to carry. Simultaneously, within this cycle, muddy feet traipse through fields of maize with reverence in an ever present now. In writing poems containing I and We and Us and declaring the “contemporary Maya,” Ak’abal brings into concert the long, persistent, sacred Maya present. The one that harvests maize, even when forbidden, the one that takes joy in a dreamy poncho, and the one that wishes to be a scrap of cloth so that perhaps one day they can fill the holes where the chill of poverty creeps in. This cycle, long and disjointed, without clear delineation or beginning, is why these poems are so compelling to me. They speak to a Mayan conception of time, as we have come to understand it. Lix Lopez began his lecture with something akin to “let us be grateful for another day.” These poems, with all their weight, do just that.

I am really sad I had to miss class this week, I loved everything I read from home. I was wondering what the brilliant minds of this class thought their “Long Cycle” might be? What historical weight do you carry, and what small cycle, daily interventions lighten the load? For me, I feel a loss of direction, a loss of utopia. It felt like people were fighting for something when I read history, and living now feels like being pulled in every direction, moving towards nothing. Then I meet people who do see the long cycle, the moral universe that bends towards justice, and I learn from them and am grateful. My daily cycle would be the ways people come into our lives to remind us of our values, even when the long view might obfuscate them.

Surprised by the Maya Garden story by Lopez, it made me realize that apart from Canada, Indigenous people from other regions of the world have the same problems with sovereignty as well. Not restricted to political rights and settler land occupation, their culture and traditions are endangered as well. The presenter, Mr. Lopez fled from Guatemala in the 1980s when the government imposed a genocide in the country. Later on, he continued his studies in Belgium and Canada. He mastered to speak 4 languages including Spanish, English, French and the local Maya language. He presented us with his story of immigration, traditional farming, and the significance of maize in Mayan culture.

From the article and his description. I got to know the underlying reason for multi-product agriculture where maize, squash and beans interdepend on each other. They protect and provide nutrients to each other both biologically and physically. Squash provides the cover, maize provides the pole for beans while beans release nitrogen as the fertilizer. This reminds me of how the Maya community works, people help their neighbours and other people just like the plants do. The traditional “3 sisters ” system now has medicinal plants that showed their intelligence of living, which diversified products on the given land.

Before planting and after planting, the Maya people had their own ways of praying and thanking God, in order to have good weather conditions for the coming year and the protection of God from the previous year. It made me think of the plot in Popol Vuh when God was trying to create humans, and the second attempt of wooden man failed due to the hollow heart, they could not recognize who created them. Maya people remember their ancestors all the time and the maize in the milpa, they never forgot the culture where they come from, generation by generation. That’s why Maya people still have a collaborative community culture nowadays.

I asked Mr. Lopez in class, how Maya descendants learn from their ancestors in Canada, as the Canadian educational system does not include Maya stories. He explained that the most direct way to tell children how Maya people work is from a farm, from the ground where maize grows up. Maize is the source of food, when children learn how to plant maize, they will never be starved in anywhere the world. However, Vancouver is not the best place for maize planting as the summer duration is short, and maize cannot get enough sunshine to grow as big enough as the maize in Central America. It also shows the importance of agriculture in the history of civilization I learnt from Geography class.

In my opinion, whatever the nationality you have, wherever you live. You should never forget your ethnicity, and your family traditions, as it indicates where you truly come from. As Mr. Lopez said, your stomach will “miss” the food which represents your identity.

In the discussion with Elder Lopez, the first thing he pointed out was that Maya people are “the Children of Corn”. I found it impressive how Mr. Lopez and his community are still deeply attached to the Mayan traditions, to the Popol Vuh, the orality, the centrality of maize. Throughout the discussion, the attachment to maize was especially palpable. Not only when he explained about the cultivation system, based on growing the “three sisters” (maize, squash and beans), but also when he talked about his homeland, his community and his ancestors. He mentioned more than once how without maize there is no society or culture, how in the absence of maize men were just hungry and could not start building cities. When he explained how maize was hidden in a rocky mountain that cracked open after multiple tries by the animals and lightening, I could see how maize represents the center of everything, as if the world revolved around maize. It seemed to me that maize is the glue of the social, the supernatural and the natural worlds, like a sort of point of connection between animals, nature, people and gods.

It struck me how the Mayan orality takes up a big role in how he sees and interprets the world and its dynamics. It was really impactful for me to learn how he associates serious changes in the world (like climate change) to the story of how men obtained maize. He mentioned that, when the cracks in the rocky mountain close, the soul of maize will leave, and big changes will come. The main crack was about to close in 2009, and this was a signal for us to prepare ourselves for the changes that are coming. Apart from the centrality of maize, when Mr. Lopez was talking, I could see how much he relies on his ancestors and the stories that have been passed down for generations. It was clear that the traditions and explanations of the world that are part of Mayan orality have not been forgotten by him; conversely, they help him interpret the world we live in.

Finally, combining Mayan orality and the centrality of maize, I understand why his community decided to set up the “Mayan in Exile Garden” here at UBC. I feel like, in this way, they feel closer to their homeland and their ancestors, while passing down the traditions to the young generations of Maya Mam people born in exile.