It is amazing to see the kids running around and playing on that rocky ground, isn’t it?

Those were the words Mario said to me when getting in the car and leaving Campamento Hidalgo, near Tulum, in Riviera Maya.

We had come to give Guzman’s family supplies to hang on during this COVID-19 quarantine. And take portrait pictures from all the family to sell them in our gallery. With the hope that you will buy them. The money raised will be used to buy more supplies for them.

Our brilliant government decided that ¨for protection¨ they could not leave their community to go get food or find work (tho there is not much left, since tourism is gone), but they did not provide the necessary aid for food to get to the community… because Maya people are strong and can survive from… air?

Sure, they grow their own food and medicinal plants, but there is not enough for them to survive without buying some basic-need supplies, beans, milk. Oh… and cookies, of course, never forget the cookies.

So we set out to go see them, ask them how they are getting along and catch a little bit of the magic and peace that their amazing family has.

Yes, we needed some soul healing and Guzman, the shaman and head of the family, knows exactly how to bring us back to life.

We get out of the car, honk on the horn, and kids fly all over to come to greet us. All the boys handsomely dressed on their white/creamy cotton clothes and the girls bringing life to the world, jumping around on their colorful-flower dresses, all handmade as Maya ways go.

Smile on his face, Guzman greets us: Ba’ax Ka Walik? how’s it going?

We have just arrived and we can already feel calm and our lungs getting clean, positive air.

We enter their home: a single-room, wood and palm shack where they all sleep, eat, play, talk, care for the kids, hang out.

All the family is gathered there, grandad on his hammock (they sleep in them, no beds), kids everywhere jumping, playing, being.

Guzman’s sisters preparing supper on the corner with a small fire built between two blocks, big comal set up with cazuelas and some quesadillas being prepared.

The smell of corn slowly turning from batter to a delicious, handmade tortilla. Beans mixed with a bit of shredded chicken in a black, salty, Chaya-leaf sauce.

Guzman’s brothers and brothers-in-law sitting and chatting and Grandma Silvana, the source of knowledge and strength in this house, cleaning her sawing machine under the one light bulb they have, the only electric source they get. (Yes, no fridge, no tv, no internet)

Mario asks Guzman to translate, since not all of them know Spanish, and tells them we are here to help and will continue to bring as much as we can. We are working on a project that we hope will get people to understand how life is for segregated Mayan communities and hope they offer a hand in these hard times to help them stay healthy and safe.

Yuum bo’otik they all answer, thank you, with a smile on their face.

We play with the kids, go get our honey medicine at the beehives (Maya honey has healing properties), pay our respect to the gods at the altar and we ask if we can make some portraits of the family, to help our project.

Guzman goes first, always smiling. Then Silvana, with her strong, unbreakable presence. Guzman’s younger brother, his sisters… the youngest of 21 with already two kids. And the kids… first not wanting to even blink, nor look at the camera. Guzman tells them to smile, and one of the younger boys just won’t do it. Guzman raises his voice a little and the child goes: Fine! I’ll smile, but I want my cookie!

Never, forget the cookies.

Portraits are done and so is the day. We say goodbye to everyone and head back to the car, the children running barefoot around us. We drive away, thinking how happy they are, with what little they’ve got. No tv, no wifi, not even mirrors. All barefoot, feeling the earth all the time, always connected to nature.

No signs of COVID anywhere, we think partly that they are so far from what can hurt them (of course we made sure everything we brought was clean and we stayed in healthy distance all the time).

I get home, take off my shoes and think maybe I too should run barefoot more often, on this rocky ground.

Written by,

Daniela Donath