We Survived the Mayan Downfall

A group of University students found this while digging in the Yucatan:

This is the diary of Cadmael Uitz. Whoever finds this will know what happened to my Mayan people.

My family and the entire village I lived in survived the collapse of the Mayan Civilization in the Yucatan, Guatemala.

I was born and raised in a little village clearing in the forest. We were farmers and grew corn, beans, squash, chilies, yams, and other vegetables. We lived in a thatched hut and had pigs and chickens. It was a simple, enjoyable, family-oriented lifestyle.

When I grew up and raised a family of my own, we stayed in the little village and lived in a similar hut. Our life was good.

On marketing days, we trekked into the city to sell our produce and wares. We made our way through the dark and dangerous overgrown jungle full of jaguars and poisonous snakes. We kept to the well-worn path that everyone used.

Approaching the city always brought gasps of excitement and awe. Massive pyramids, paved plazas, gilded palaces and temples and ceremonial structures assaulted the eyes. Terraced hillsides were green with crops and canals were brimming with water. Our King, Martin de Unzuay Ari Zmendi, ruled the magnificent city. I had seen him only once adorned with a headdress that seemed to touch the treetops. His hand waved from the gold tinted carriage carried by four servants on long poles.

Things happened in the city that were hard to speak of, so we always tried to do our business and keep a low profile. I believed in the power of our Gods but did not want myself or my family to become a sacrifice to them.

One day, word came to our village that Spanish Conquistadors had landed at Cozumel and a man named Cortes and his crew were destroying the temples and erecting crosses. Thereafter we kept a vigilant watch so if any activity was nearby, we could curb our burning so as not to be detected.

As time passed, the city was destroying more and more of the forest. It took twenty trees to heat one meter of lime plaster used to build temples, reservoirs, and monuments. Several times our entire village moved deeper into the forest clearings to maintain our privacy.

On a visit to the city, I happened to notice that nearby crops were dying. I looked at other buildings and it appeared the same thing was happening to the gardens. It was then I realized the lime was seeping into the ground and ruining the soil. I vowed that we would never build our village like that, we would remain in our thatched huts.

Then came the drought and epidemics! People in the city, famished for water, were drinking what they could find but the water was contaminated. Many of them became so sick that they died. The city became unsanitary and disease laden. Everyone was praying to Chaac, the rain God and sacrifices were taking place to appease him. All for naught, the drought continued day after day, month after month.

I begged my village to get further away. I told them it was only a matter of time before disease reached us. Finally, they agreed. We packed everything we had and moved hundreds of miles away battling the overgrown forest and the creatures within. Our journey lasted months but after finding a suitable location we painstakingly built our huts, planted our crops, and found suitable grazing for our animals.

We heard from occasional travelers, who happened upon us, that population in the city was quickly dwindling, the Toltec's had invaded, and all of the trade routes had collapsed. Further, the once towering buildings were falling into decay and ruin. Eventually only a few of the Mayans remained.

Our village, though quaint and humble remained prosperous. We had adequate food and water, clothing, and shelter. A wise Mayan came to our village one day and stayed. In the evenings we would gather around while he told us stories. He said that the drought came because the Gods were angry. The greed of luxurious buildings eventually destroyed the forest which in turn brought too much sunshine. The sunshine dried up the reservoirs and the crops couldn't survive. The wise old man stayed with us until he died.

Now, I am elder of my family and near the end of my time, but I can rest in peace. No, I didn't leave my family gold or silver; they never had a palace to live in, but they loved and respected the land. The land, in return, was very good to them.

My message to those who may find this diary is this: Life isn't what you have but what you do with the things you are given.



800 Words
Prompt: An ordinary person caught in the face of an empire. Be creative. Make it clear how the larger scale face of the empire in the background impacts that character's specific individual situation.
Submitted to Writer's Cramp 2.17.23