By Indalecio Cardeña Vazquez
Between the sun and the breeze that falls on the old port of Santa María de Sisal. Between the liquid and salty memory, the flight of the pelicans and the cry of the seagulls, upon the sand that spreads the grains of its memories on the beach, the lost trace of the steps of an enterprise, the rusty cannons and the ships that rest at the bottom of the sea.
Between the anger of the bodies of the grandparents, the parents, whom one day came together lovingly to germinate time; between the solitude of the boats and the hidden dreams of the girl, who barefoot plays with the waves, the children who run over the dunes and capture the whiteness of time in their hands to throw it into the air.
Between the word that descends on the sea and the earth, the young mothers who jubilantly watch their blood grow; between the laughter and misery of these men who carry their fish and gear on their backs; among the ancient, primal blood of this land, this stone, this sea; Between her abandonment and life, she raises Sisal, her name, and her memory.
The life of its inhabitants extends over the mirror of time, mixing the eras, keeping the present, living the past, and longing for the future.
The eternal nostalgia of the elderly sometimes merges with the disenchantment of the occasional “new elder” who have not seen the years go by through innumerable sunrises and sunsets, but only through time, scarce time, which has already worn out its young souls.
And so, from those remote times, evocative stories emerge, the voices of those who tell what they have seen, what they have heard, and refer to fantastic places, the time that has passed, emerge like the waves that spread their locks on the beach. memory.
Some inhabitants of Sisal refer that Cahuich is an eerie place on the beach, located about 24 kilometers west of the port, no one knows why it is called that, but everyone agrees that it is a creepy, dark place, with mangroves and pitahayas. wild, which on nights of storms, and bad weather, “the north wind” becomes especially fatal.
On those occasions, you can hear someone approaching the beach, walking through the mangroves, then when the splashing reaches the seashore, a silhouette is seen emerging from the mangrove heading for the water, but just before getting in the water, he diverts his path and walks along the beach until he disappears.
Some people think that it is a ghost from a sunken pirate ship in that place, since a long time ago the remains of a boat were found near that site, with many human bones among the submerged remains.
But not all stories are about the supernatural. A neighbor said that a long time ago, she had a lovely seashell stored on her shelf, but her money was spent quickly, everything went easily until someone told her that the shell was doing her harm and advised him to throw it away, so he got rid of it, and was able to start saving, the money was already enough for various things, and he thought that since the shell is from the sea, then it made money go away like “water between his fingers”.
This is the memory of Sisal, gently swaying between the past and the present, like the tide that bathes its beaches, ageless beaches that have seen men, women, children, boats, wealth, the lives of all those who, at some point of their existence inhabited this port.
- by Indalecio Cardena Vazquez
- Merida, Yuc., July 12, 2023