Los Nahuales - Animal Companion Spirits

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON in mid-October. The heat of the day was giving way to the early evening cool air. The bright sky was slowly disappearing behind thickening haze sneaking up from the lowlands of the distant seashore. Suddenly, we could feel the damp breeze. The rain would be here before long.
We pushed up the remaining half kilometer of the roughly cobbled trail. A few giant igera trees towered over the narrow path, obscuring loose stones and dark patches of slippery moss. Just as the going was getting difficult, we glimpsed the outline of a simple wooden hut nestled in a cranny between two rounded hills. The hut looked like a sleepy, squat dragon with a long, upright snout, from which bellowed whitish puffs of smoke. The dragon’s eye, a small window, was dimly lit, and we could smell the fragrance of his breath. The sweet smell of burning huisache (sweet acacia tree).
Old Señor Pozos opened the hut’s door on the first knock, and we quickly slipped into the warmth of his simple but hospitable cabaña (cabin), escaping from the enclosing, foggy darkness.
“Buenas noches,” Tisha said and extended her hand. “How are you, Señor Pozos?”
“Bien...bien, gracias.” Señor Pozos smiled. “Y ustedes?”
“Very well, gracias a Dios,” I said and shook Señor Pozos’s calloused hand.

Pic 1: ‘A simple wooden hut... from which bellowed whitish puffs of smoke’

The room was instantly filled with the delicious smell of boiled coffee, cinnamon, and piloncillo (dark, flavorful sugar cones made from sugarcane syrup). The smell of the coffee mixed pleasantly with the fragrance of a few beeswax candles, which were set in old glass jars decorated with worn-out images of St. Maria Guadalupe. Obviously remnant containers from some religious offerings. The yellowish flames flickered in the occasional whiffs of air pushed through the gaps between the wallboards, thus creating a mysterious dance of light and shadow on the rough-cut wood. I couldn’t help but stare at the rows of papier-mâché masks hanging from the wallboards. In the flickering light, the masks seemed to watch me in a mesmerizing, forbidding way.
“Yours are right there,” said Grandpa Pozos, pointing to a group of beautifully crafted animal masks off to one side.
“They are gorgeous,” Tisha said and got up to examine them.
“Glad you like them.”

Pic 3: ‘The room was instantly filled with the delicious smell of boiled coffee...’

Señor Pozos smiled proudly in the corners of his eyes, but on the surface, he remained modestly indifferent. Then he waved his hand. “I wanted to bring the masks down to your ranch, but...”
“What happened?” asked Tisha, noticing Señor Pozos’s limp.
“Ahhh, some silly stuff.” He paused for a second, as if deciding how to put it, but then continued. “Two nights ago, my nahual got caught in some old barbwire. Now my leg is giving me trouble.”
Tisha and I looked at each other, not sure how to respond.
“You know about nahuales, no?” Señor Pozos asked, and he limped toward the animal masks.
Tisha and I looked at each other again, and then we nodded.
Señor Pozos smiled. “I thought so. Your theater play is about nahuales. So you must know about them,” he said with an uncanny certainty.
“Sort of,” I said cautiously, thinking of how my play, a spinoff of an old Czech fairy tale, could be interpreted here, in the Mexican mountains, as a play about nahuales.

Pic 5: ‘“You know about nahuales, no?” Señor Pozos asked, and he limped toward the animal masks’

The grandpa looked at me with his foxy eyes. Yes, that was it! He sure had foxy eyes, now that I knew about his nahual. Maybe he was now thinking about where this Bohemia place might be?
“Yes, you do,” he said suddenly. “You have them for sure. It’s just that you don’t think about them like that.”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I have read that nahuales were something very Mexican. They don’t seem to have much to do with Central Europe.”
He smiled broadly as he got up. “Bueno, you say Mexican.” He limped to the wall and took down another mask. “And what about this?” he asked, putting the mask over his face. A sudden chill ran down my spine. My hair stood on end.
“That’s vodník,” I blurted out.
“It’s what?” asked Tisha.
“Vodník,” I repeated. “An old Czech water spirit.”
“You see?” Grandpa Pozos laughed, pleased with his effect.
“How did you?” I looked deeply into his greenish eyes.
“Never mind,” he said. “You see, nahuales can have many forms. It’s not all fairytales.”

Pic 7: ‘“Vodník,” I repeated. “An old Czech water spirit.”’

“You see, many people think that nahuales are something bad. They think the people who have nahuales are some kind of witches.”
I nodded, reflecting on the readings I had done in the past.
“But that’s not true.” He shook his head. “Nahuales are spiritual animal forms. They are our guardians. They are not bad, and they are not good. They are the same way wild animals are.”
“They are neutral?” I asked.
“It’s just...you see, the way they are depends on us. How we think, what we do.”
“You mean,” I tried to clarify, “it’s like, if we are good, the nahuales are also good?”
“And if we have bad thoughts, the nahuales are bad, too.” He nodded. “Your nahual can be a little lamb, but if you are a bad person, your lamb could be a killer.”
Tisha nodded. “That makes sense. But how is it with that gift?”
“Look, when you are born, you are born under the sign of your birthday.”
“Something like the horoscope signs?” I asked.
“No. I am talking about the Aztec signs.”

Pic 9: ‘”I am talking about the Aztec signs”’

“I know better now,” Señor Pozos said mildly and looked into the hollow eyes of the vulture mask in his hand. “The vulture nahuales are very wise, and they are very brave. Very brave. In the Aztec language, we call them Cozcaquauhtli - the Necklaced Eagles. I didn’t know that when I was young. So I rejected this birthday nahual they gave me.”
“You can reject your nahual?” asked Tisha, surprised.
“Yes, you can. When you are told who your nahual is, you can accept it or you can reject it.”
“How does the nahual feel about that?” I asked, imagining a scorned, furious animal spirit.
“I don’t know,” said Señor Pozos. “I never thought about that.”
“Could their feelings be hurt?” asked Tisha.
“I don’t think so. The way I know it is that the nahual must want you. And you must want the nahual. If one of you is not sure, or if you don’t want this, it won’t happen.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Bueno,” Señor Pozos said slowly. “You can stay without a nahual all your life, or you might find a new one. Or a new one may find you.”
“Is that possible?”

Pic 11: ‘”The vulture nahuales are very wise, and they are very brave”’

Señor Pozos just nodded and continued. “You see, my grandpa was very knowledgeable about this. His own nahual was the lynx. That’s a very wise animal spirit.”
“Your grandpa told you about his nahual?” asked Tisha. This was all new to her.
Señor Pozos nodded. “He told me many things. I didn’t have a father. My father was killed on the railroad work. When they were building down in Chiapas. Before I was born. So my grandpa told me everything for my education. He was a great man.”
The silence filled the room again, save for the crackling of the fire and the occasional wind howls outside the hut. A few light drops started to descend on the tin roof.
“Maybe you know this,” started Señor Pozos, “but I tell you anyway. Long time ago, there lived gods here. There lived simple people, and there lived gods. This was a very long time ago.”
“Yes. In some cultures, they call this the First Time.”
“First Time,” pondered Señor Pozos. “That’s a very good name.”

Pic 13: ‘”Long time ago, there lived gods here. There lived simple people, and there lived gods. This was a very long time ago”’

Señor Pozos smiled again. “Do you know where the word nahual comes from?”
“I imagine from some Aztec word,” ventured Tisha.
“Correcto. The word is nahualli. It means a being of double projection, or something like that.”
I nodded. “Like having a double.”
“Could be,” said Señor Pozos. “D’you know that the gods had their own nahuales? Yes, they were quite famous for that. I mean, for having nahuales. And they could change into their form.”
“Black Tezcatlipoca had a Jaguar as his nahual,” said Tisha.
“Better say HAS a Jaguar,” corrected Grandpa Pozos.
“Well...yes,” admitted Tisha, allowing for the notion that the gods still existed.
“The Jaguar is a powerful nahual,” said Señor Pozos.
We nodded. I loved jaguars. Sleek, fast, languid...but ferocious.
“Black Tezcatlipoca is also the keeper of the nahuales. He’s their protector.”
“Doesn’t he also have a coyote?” I asked.
“Yes, That’s the trickster side of him, the deceiver. The Smoking Mirror.” He nodded.

Pic 15: ‘“The Jaguar is a powerful nahual,” said Señor Pozos’

“You mean, you could also have something else for a nahual, not just an animal?” asked Tisha.
“You can have anything. Stone, water, cloud, cabaña...anything you like.”
“Is the fox one of those twenty signs?” I asked.
Señor Pozos started to laugh. “I thought you would ask that. No, the fox isn’t. The vulture is.”
“So?”
“I think that after some time, Tezcatlipoca noticed that some people weren’t happy with their birth sign nahuales.”
“Just like you?” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t want my vulture.”
“But you wanted a nahual, no?” I said.
“I did.”
“And Tezcatlipoca?” asked Tisha, wanting her story.
“You know, he is smart,” said Señor Pozos. “He wasn’t angry. He just changed things. He gave permission to other animals to be people’s nahuales.”
“And those nahuales you have to choose yourself, right?” asked Tisha, hoping to get to the bottom of this.
“Yes, those you choose. Remember what I said. It also depends on the nahual. Both of you must want this. You must connect together, and you must choose.”
“So, how can I choose a nahual?” I asked rather timidly, hoping to be initiated into the secret.

Pic 17: ‘”Tezcatlipoca...gave permission to other animals to be people’s nahuales”’

I looked at my watch. It was already ten o’clock. Tisha got up as well. The night behind the little window was damp and foggy. The wind was still whistling through the boards, and the occasional raindrop resounded on the tin roof.
“Are you walking down the mountain?” asked Señor Pozos, motioning to the windows.
The night outside seemed quite forbidding. I felt kind of silly, but I had to say: “Bueno. I brought our hamacas with us. Just in case.”
Señor Pozos laughed. “Maybe I am not the only fox here.”
“That is, if you don’t mind?” I added.
“No, está bien. You can tie them up right here.” He pointed to the sturdy roof beams.
I opened my packsack and pulled out the hammocks. I had even brought some tie cords, just in case. Tisha seemed uncomfortable. Maybe because we were taking over Grandpa’s small cabin?
“Don’t worry, Doña,” said Señor Pozos, as if reading her mind. “I sleep over there.” And he pointed to a small door partially covered by a wool blanked.
“Gracias, Señor Pozos,” said Tisha. “You are very kind.”
“The latrine is outside...and there is a tub of fresh water,” he added, heading for his room.
“Gracias, y buenas noches,” I said.
“De qué.” He smiled. “Sleep well.”

Pic 19: ‘”You can tie them up right here.” He pointed to the sturdy roof beams...’