Dance of the Deer

There is a fascinating dance going on in Guatemala.  It’s very subtle and the partners seemed to have worked out the choreography so they’re not tripping over themselves on the dance floor.  It’s the dance of Christian Religion (historically the Catholic Church, but more recently joined by Evangelicos) and Mayan Tradition.  To extend the analogy, the Christian church probably assumes the role of “lead.”  But, sometimes it’s very hard to tell, the two have become so intertwined.  And when it comes to the minds, hearts and souls of thousands of Indians strewn throughout the rugged terrain of Guatemala, the distinction becomes even more obscure.

On the weekend of the summer solstice in June, we joined a group of friends from Mario’s Marina in Rio Dulce in an excursion to a village called Q’anaitzan, about ten miles east down the Golfete towards Livingston.  The purpose of the trip was to witness the annual ceremony known as “The Dance of the Deer.”  The marina staff handled all of the logistics, carrying us in several boats down the river and making reservations at the “hotel” in the village for those of us who planned to spend the night.  It rained heavily on us as we made our way over the water with a heavy fog slowing us down considerably.  By the time we turned up the creek off of the Golfete leading to Q’anaitzan, we began to wonder if the trip would be worth it.

We came into a lagoon with a couple of small, family huts along the shore.  A dock projected out from the far end and our boats proceeded to it.  Fortunately, the rain slackened in time for us to disembark.  The path of the dock led us through thick, lush foliage above a swamp-like base.  We passed a large pillapa (wooden house with a thatched roof) on the left.  We found out later that it served as a guest house for Catholic priests and missionaries visiting the village.  Beyond it, we climbed upward slightly which brought us to the hotel, a two-story rustic pillapa with a common room and kitchen downstairs and seven bedrooms upstairs.  There was one community bathroom. 

Everybody who was staying the night registered and we parceled out the rooms.  Mosquito nets hung over each bed we were warned to check the mattresses for scorpions before getting in them. 

Once settled, we walked out of the hotel which was located at the southwest corner of an open field.   The small, stucco Catholic church stood at the west end of the field.  The Q’anaitzan school was located on the opposite side from the hotel.  A small ampitheatre sat on the east side.  No houses or tiendas were visible.  The buildings around the field represented a typical village configuration.

There was a hubbub all over the field.  Men in brightly colored costumes and intricate masks danced to the music of a marimba band.  Children roamed around barefoot stomping in the mud puddles the rain had formed.   Periodically, women emerged from the church swaying buckets of incense as they led groups of people through the maze.  From an uneducated eye, it appeared to be chaotic. 

Up in the church, an entirely separate activity unfolded.  Some people milled around or sat on the steps watching the dancing on the field.  But, others took their seats in the sanctuary where a band played and singers performed with a full complement of electric guitars and speakers.  On the floor in front of the altar lay a pallet of leaves in a circle surrounded by candles and incense.  It appeared to be some sort of offering where the participants laid flowers, candles and other trinkets on the bed, the most unusual of which was a blue purse-like bag. 

One of our group, Linda Card, struck up a conversation with a man who turned out to be the principal of the school.  She spoke sufficient Spanish to converse with him about what we were observing.  He was most willing to explain which enriched the whole experience for us tremendously.

We learned that the “Dance of the Deer” occurs every year during the Summer Solstice.  From dawn until dusk, the men of the village don the brilliant costumes and masks to act out the story of how the animals of the jungle delivered the Mayans from the control of the Conquistadores.  The costumes consist of fabric ornately accented with colorful ribbons, yarn and sequins.  Most of them include a shawl likewise adorned with elaborate patterns.

The masks are very distinct with bright colors and exaggerated cartoon-like features.  The animals include deer, panthers, jaguars and dogs.  The Conquistadores are easily recognizable with their extreme jutting jaws and comic faces. 

For hours, the performers swayed and jumped rhythmically in patterns across the field.  They did this fully clothed under the heavy costumes in the typical heat and humidity of the tropical jungle climate.

Throughout the day, new groups of people arrived from other villages.  They would first go into the church.  Then, following the women with the incense, they marched single-file through the dancers to the opposite end of the field where they dispersed to enjoy the rest of the activities individually.  

We spent the afternoon meandering through the throng taking pictures and watching the people enjoying themselves.  At one point, the dancers separated into two lines, forming a path for us to walk through as they sashayed around us.   As darkness began to set in, we all congregated back at the hotel for dinner.  The hotel had provided menus ahead of time and several of us decided to try a traditional soup made with turkey.  Unfortunately, earlier in the day, some of us witnessed the de-feathering and preparation of the very turkey whose meat floated around in the bowl.  It had only been a few hours from the bird’s demise until the soup was served – not nearly enough time for simmering to tenderize the meat or for us to forget what we saw. 

The loud music from the church continued to overtake our lively conversation around the table.  It was now fully dark and we assumed that the “Dance of the Deer” ritual surely would be over.  But, there was obviously a continuation of activity up at the church, so we walked back out of the hotel into the open field.  Once outside, we could see something else going on there as well.

In the center of the field were three poles set in a triangle.  At the base of each pole rested a single candle – one red, one black and one white.  Along the connecting lines between the poles at the middle point sat a single candle – one blue, one yellow and one green.  There was a pot of fire in the center of the triangle, smoke billowing up into the air above. 

Two men positioned themselves inside the triangle.  Although both of them were larger of stature than the typical Mayan, one of them stood over six feet making him appear huge in relation to everyone else.  Obviously Shaman (a Mayan priest), they chanted constantly, raising their arms periodically up towards the sky.

The marimba band clanked out steady music as two circles formed around the triangle.  The villagers – men, women and children – comprised the inner circle.  The Dancing Deer performers, still in full costume except for the masks, rotated in the outer circle.  Someone wandered in and out of both circles passing out slender, white candles. 

For the next two hours, we watched mesmerized as people took one of the slender candles, entered the triangle and knelt.   One of the Shaman would take their candle and wave it through the smoke of the fire pot in the middle, but not lighting it.  Then, starting at the head, he slowly moved the candle around the face, down the neck, across the shoulders and along each arm.  After chanting further, he would fling the candle into the fire pot.  The person then rose and left the triangle. 

We knew that we were witnessing some sort of religious ceremony, but had no way to understand exactly what was happening.  Fortunately, Linda Card found the principal of the school in the midst of the crowd.  He interpreted the ritual for us.

What we saw was a purification ceremony.  The poles and candles of the triangle symbolized the traditional Mayan worship of their environment.  The primary pole where the red candle blazed faced east representing to sun.  The pole with the white candle represented the wind and the third pole with the black candle, darkness.  The blue candle midway between the sun and wind represented the sky; the green between the wind and darkness was the earth; the yellow between the darkness and sun was “descansa” or “when the soul leaves the body.” 

Those who wanted to be purified took one of the white, slender candles and offered themselves to the ceremony.  In a couple of instances, parents carried their children inside the triangle.  During the entire time, the marimba band played and the two circles moved continuously.

When the ceremony ended, the shamans extinguished the fire in the pot.  The candles were snuffed and the poles pulled up.  The crowd followed them into the church where, until the wee hours of the morning, everyone continued to sing, chant and preach.  Although we chose not to participate at this point, we could fully hear the “bum, bum, bum” of the base guitars rumbling out of the church and through the porous walls of the hotel way after we retired to our beds.

When we left the next morning, the village appeared to be back to normal.  Other than scattered pieces of trash in the field, there was no sign that all of the activity had ever occurred.  The church was locked up tight and all of the Indians had vanished back into the villages from which they came. 

Yes, there is a definite dance going on here.  And, Christianity may be “the lead.”  But, over 3,000 years of tradition and ceremony are not easily moved around the floor.  What we saw in Q’anaitzan that day and night was proof positive.