The Journey

              I packed water, bug spray, and sunscreen.  I put a cap on and wore light clothing.  I put the backpack over my shoulder for the journey.  I woke up before the sun was up and left a note on the table for my parents.  I told them that I would return before dark from my journey to find answers to my question.  I opened the front door and stared at the nature that surrounded our house.

            The sky was cool but I knew it would get warmer.  The sun was just about to rise and I watch the leaves on the trees bend in the soft wind.  I saw the trees in the woods extend for miles.  I knew that our house was the only house on this mountainside.  I closed my eyes and heard the bugs and the birds started to sing as the sun rose.  I took in a deep breath and set out on my journey. 

            I started fourth grade in September and it was still really warm out.  I always felt a part of my class until around the holidays.  When the holidays came, everything changed. 

“Pakal, are you going to midnight mass?” asked one of the kids my class. 

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You celebrate Christmas, right?”

“Yeah,”

“So then you go to mass, right?”

“I do not know what that is,” and my classmate explained to me what mass was.  I told him I’ve never been to such an event or even set foot in a “church” but I told him that my family has a private temple. 

“Are you Jewish?” asked another kid in class. 

“What’s Jewish?” I asked and my classmate explained to me what being Jewish meant.  I told him that I was not Jewish or I though I wasn’t. 

“Do you wear a small hat on your head?”

“I sometimes wear a baseball cap,” I told her.

“But you said you go to a temple.  Do you wear your hat?”

“My parents won’t let me.  They say it is against the rules,”

“Then you’re not Jewish,” The teacher then told us that snack time was over and to returned to our seats.  My classmates started to whisper among themselves and certain times I could hear my name.

            I walked higher up the mountain.  The sun just rose in the east and I started to get tired.  I knew the mountain well and I knew that I wanted to head high up into the mountains to think.  I found a large stick and used it as my walking stick.  I prayed the Goddess of nature for presenting this stick to me and continued on my journey. 

            We were supposed to get a gift for a person in our class.  We picked a name out of a bowl and I got Lauren Flexter.  I knew that Lauren really like horses and took horseback riding lessons.  My mother took me out to get her a present.  I got her the newest Barbie that came with a horse.  The lady who helped us told us that it was the brand new thing and I was hoping that she would like my present. 

            When it was time to present our presents I gave my present to Lauren who said thank you to me and loved it!  She said it was on her Christmas list for Santa and she said that I was the best kid in the class. 

            A boy named Billy O’Pit came up to me.  He had his hands behind his back and he seemed nervous.  Billy was a shy kid and extremely skinny and tall for his age but he was a very nice kid. 

“Hello, Billy,” I said with a huge smile on. 

“Hi, Pakal,” he replied back without looking at me.  The teacher asked if everyone got his or her presents and I told her that I did not. 

“Let me see the list of names.  It says here that Billy was supposed to give you a present,” and the teacher gave a looked at Billy.  The whole class was staring at us. 

“Billy where is Pakal’s presents?”

“I don’t have one,” Billy said looking down.  The whole class was silent and I felt a bit sad that I was the only one in class who did not get a present. 

“Well, where is it?” asked the teacher. 

“I have a note from my parents,” Billy said and handed it to the teacher.  The teacher read it and seemed very upset over it. 

“Billy?” I asked.

“I’m sorry Pakal but my parents are strict Christians.  They do not believe in mixing a religion,” he said.  That was when I started to feel different from the class. 

            The sun was high in the sky and it was no longer cool but hot.  I took out my water bottle and drank from it.  I made sure to drink a little so that I would save some for later.  I sat on a huge rock and prayed to the spirits for guidance and I prayed to Jesus.  I started to feel as if my journey was useless but I told myself that I had to continue. 

            During the holidays my mother took me to the temple.  The temple had a symbol of Hunab Ku in a cross to show our dedication to him and to Jesus.  We had no chairs but mats instead.  My mom and I sang hymns to Jesus and then prayed.  My mother started a fire in the fire pit and was telling me the importance of the four elements. 

“What’s wrong?” asked my mother. 

“Am I Jewish?”

“No,”

“Do we go to a ‘church’?”

“We have this temple.  Why do you ask, Pakal?”

“I don’t like my name.  Why can’t I have a normal name like John, Peter, Matthew, Carl, Phil, or something?” I said to my mother with anger in my voice. 

“Pakal, your name has a huge meaning.  You were named after a great leader of our people.  Pakal was a ruler and brought to his city-state an age of peace and progress.  To this day, he is believe to be the greatest Maya leader,”

“Did he believe in Jesus?”

“No,”

“Why?  I believe in Hunab Ku and the other Gods but I also believe in Jesus but even though I do, the other kids say I’m not a true ‘Christian’.  I believe in his teachings but the other kids say I do not follow the teachings of Jesus.  They say it is wrong to believe in many Gods,” My mother held me in her arms and gave me a smile and a kiss on the forehead.

“You are special, Pakal.  You have something that your classmates do not.  You are being raised by two different religions but remember that through these religions you keep alive your ancestors and your culture.  Listen to me my son, never favor one above the other and always be proud of what you believe in.  Very few children live in a similar household to your own,”

“There are others like me?”

“Yes and each one is special,”

            I lost track of how long I was walking but I started to get tired.  I sat down under a tree and while sitting I saw a deer.  I knew a deer was very important to the Maya Goddess and I took this as a sign to continue.  I thank the Goddess and while walking I started to sing a song in the honor of Jesus’ father, God.  Like my mother said, never favor one.  I am half Catholic and half Maya and I promised myself that I will never choose one over the other because they are both a part of me. 

            My curiosity got the better of me and I told my parents that I wanted to visit a local Church.  My father knew where there was a Catholic church in town and my mother became very concern.  My father said that maybe exposing me to more to my Christian side, I would gain a bit more knowledge about Jesus and his father along with my father’s religion. 

            We went to the Church on a Friday right after school to avoid mass and a crowd of people.  My father told me to dress my best and we went inside the Church.  It was a huge round room with a table in the very center on top of some stairs.  My father told me that the benches were called “pews” and that the center of the Church where the table was, was called the “altar”.  At the very end of the Church was a church with Jesus on it and my father told me that it was called a “crucifix” and it was to remind the Catholics of their savior. 

“Hello,” said a voice and a man dressed in all black came out to see us. 

“Hello, father,” said my father.

“He’s your dad?” I asked.  The man in black laughed a bit at my confusion.

“No.  Father is what we call a priest,”

“What about the females?”

“There are no female priests,” said the Father. 

“Females become nuns,” my father told me. 

“May I asked who you two are?  I’ve never seen you before,” said the Father.

“I’m Mr. Ricciardi and this is my son, Pakal.  I’m just teaching him,”

“I see.  Why don’t you sign him up for our Sunday school program?  Did he make his communion?” I looked at my father with confusion. 

“My wife and I want to teach him at home.  There are certain things that we want to teach him.  That is our decision,”

“You do not have any altars for the Gods,” I said and my father and the priest gave me a surprise look. 

“Young man, there is only one true God!” the priest said and then he turned to my father, “I do not know how you are raising your son as a Catholic sir, but in my position I would sign him up for Sunday school right away!  Young man, have you ever ate the bread or drank the wine of our Lord, Jesus Christ?” he asked me with a red face.  I shook my head, “Out!” he yelled and my father grabbed me and we walked out.  I made a decision to never go back there, ever again. 

            I did not have a watch on me but I was guessing that it was pass three in the afternoon.  I was halfway up the mountain, almost near my goal.  I have not seen any animal since the deer, but I had seen a few birds, chipmunks, and rabbits.  My mother taught me to respect all living things and that they are my distant relatives and my father taught me that everything has a spirit.  Each time I saw a small creature I thank them for accompany me on my journey.  But eventually they disappeared and as I got near the top of the mountain, I realized that I was alone. 

            Since my father took me to a Church, my mother wanted to take me to a Native American Church.  She told me that this was different because the Native American Church was a couple of different tribes that put their religion together. 

“What tribe are you from?” asked one of the kids. 

“Maya,” I told him and he looked at me in confusion and told me that the Maya were not a tribe. 

            My mother and I went up to other people and most of them looked nothing like us.  My mother told me that their ancestors were from this land or near by while our ancestors were located in Central America.  I kept hearing different tribes. Lakota, Cheyenne, Crow, and more.  No one said Maya. 

“Hello, I am Shaman Five Feathers,” said a woman who approached us. 

“Hello, I am Gabriella and this is my son, Pakal,” she said introducing me.  She told the Shaman that we were from Central America and she seemed very interested but I did not feel like I belonged.  They kept talking about the “Great Spirit” and legends that I never heard before.  My mother had to remind me that their tribes are different but similar while ours was extremely different compared to North America.  I found this Native American Church to be too confusing and too far away from the beliefs that my mother taught me.  It was too complicated to follow and just like with the Catholic Church, I decided not to go back. 

            My feet started to hurt really bad and I sat down on a log and took off my shoes to find blisters on my feet.  I knew this journey was going to be difficult but I wanted to try it.  I was already to far along that I could not turn back.  I put my shoes back on, poured water on my head, picked up my walking stick, and continued.  That was when I noticed that the wind stopped.  Now there were no animals and no wind. 

            It was raining outside and my classmates and I had to eat inside the classroom due to the bad whether.  I was eating my regular PB&J sandwich along with a juice and carrots. 

“I hate the rain,” I heard someone in my class say.

“I hate it too.  It should just go away and never return.  It ruins our recess,” I heard someone else say. 

“But we need the rain so that the grass can grow and the crops.  If there was no rain then there would be no corn, squash, vegetables, grass, and trees,” I told them.

            Once when I was little I was so bored that I wanted to play outside and I said that I hated the rain and the rain God.  My mother had a fit and told me to never say that again.  She told me how the rain brought us food and trees and nature.  She told me that the rain God, Chaac was not a mean God but was nice and kind.  She taught me to respect the rain.  That day we prayed to Jesus to ask him to stop the rain along with Chaac.  But the rain continued so we prayed to St. Jude, hoping that the rains would not flood the town and cause houses to over flow with water. 

“Who cares about that?  I just want to play,” said one of the kids complaining about the rain. 

“We need the rain,” I said in a low voice.

“Your weird.  Why don’t you cut your hair?  It looks like girl hair,” said one of the boys. 

“Warriors don’t cut their hairs.  Only cowards,” I said and a group of boys looked at me.

“Did you call us cowards?” asked one. 

“That’s not what I meant.  I meant that, I’m not allowed to cut my hair.  I can only cut it if I’m in mourning,” I told them but they were not listening.

“He called us cowards!”

“It was an accident,” But one of the boys grabbed my shirt and threw me to the ground.  He pinned me on the floor.  I kicked back but I could not get up.  I was stuck and a bunch of boys kept me down on the floor. 

“Say you’re sorry!”

“Sorry!”

“Like you mean it!” The whole class was silent and everyone stared at us.  Even the girls watched and no one ran to get an adult. 

“Grab a pair of scissors!” I heard someone yell and I freaked.  They were going to cut off my hair!  But just when a boy grabbed a pair of succors, an adult came in. 

“What’s going on in here?” he asked and we were all dead silent and I laid on the floor in relief. 

            I made it to the top of the mountain and the sun was just about to set in the west.  I sat over a cliff and looked down.  I saw my house and farther down I could see the town.  I could see cars moving, people walking, and the small shops in town.  I stood away from the edge and sat down.  I closed my eyes, took in deep breaths, and meditated.  I focused on the reason why I went there.  To ask the Gods, Hunab Ku, Jesus, the Saints, the spirits, the Virgin Mary, anyone who could tell me, who I am. 

            I saw visions of my classmates, the Churches I visited, and my parents.  I felt calm and the visions were in front of me like a movie.  I recalled all my happy moments and my difficult moments.  I just wanted to know who I was.  After what felt like a while a opened my eyes to spot a dove, flying high in the sky and underneath it was a white tail deer. 

“The white tail deer is an important animal from our home land,” I heard my mother’s voice say.

“The dove is a symbol of Jesus.  The only son of Hunab Ku,” I heard my father’s voice say.  I then found the answer.

            After my long journey and my meditation, it finally came to an end.  I was half Catholic and half Maya.  I follow the teachings of the Gods along with the teachings of Jesus and the saints.  Because of them, I am who I am.  I discovered that I am Pakal Ricciardi, and I was proud to be me because I discovered that I was special. 

            It was dark out and I was about to head home when I saw a light from the woods.  I recognized the uniform of a ranger. 

“Is that you Pakal?  Your parents are worried about you.  The whole town has been looking for you all day.  What are you doing up here, buddy?”

“I came here to find out who I am,” The ranger took off his hat and wiped his brow.  He seemed relieve to have finished his climbing up the mountain. 

“So did you find out who you are?” he asked panting. 

“Yes, I am Pakal Ricciardi and I represent my ancestors from my mother and father side of the family,”

            It was around midnight when Pakal returned home to his parents.  The dove landed on a branch of the tree, at the highest peek of the mountain, next to a deer.  The deer turned into the Goddess of nature, Ix Chel and the dove turned into Jesus Christ. 

“We bless you, Pakal,” they said in unison and that night the boy slept peacefully in the safety of his home and his guardians.