Revive the Archive: Vito Grippi’s “Modern-Day Mayans and the Taming of the Yucatan” (2005) — Including Interview with Grippi
Revive the Archive is a series that showcases student works from The York Review’s extensive archive. These student works will vary each week of the series, ranging from pieces of writing to pieces of artwork.
Now we shift to 2005 — a nonfiction piece by Vito Grippi entitled “Modern-Day Mayans and the Taming of the Yucatan.” It traces a specific trip from the author’s honeymoon in an area once beautifully untamed. The newlyweds, though initially enamored like anyone else would be with the “authentic” culture surrounding them, see the consequences of imposed civilization. Children collecting garbage, a father with a Nike t-shirt hoping for a vasectomy. Through irony and satire, but also frank observations, Grippi comments on how “civilized” people tend to privilege their own customs over those of Native people. Yet despite being continuously exploited, Native people are still trying to be one with the earth. Readers face the truth — there are other ways to be human.
I was especially interested in all of this, and in the messages that Grippi’s piece conveys, because I read a NYT article not too long ago by the National Youth Poet Laureate, Amanda Gorman. At the end of November, Native American Heritage Month, she interviewed a variety of individuals — Congresswoman-elect Sharice Davids, storyteller Kayla Briët, hip-hop artist and advocate Nataanii Means, to name a few. None is a “modern-day Mayan,” but each perspective is part of this larger picture of what it means to be “Native.”
Briët, of Prairie Band Potawatomi, says, “In a time where Native culture is often romanticized, this month is really about remembering our ancestors and the hardships they endured for us to be here today. But it’s not only about the past. Even today, many tribal citizens face voting barriers. Each year, there is a growing list of thousands of missing and murdered indigenous women. To move forward in creating an environment of tolerance for our future generations, we must first learn to acknowledge and understand the past.”
November has come and gone, yes, but that doesn’t mean the conversations about heritage, discrimination, tolerance, and diversity should stop. Grippi’s writing from 13 years ago matters today. Presently, Grippi is a professor at YCP as well as the Poet Laureate of York City. I had the chance to ask him a couple of questions regarding his work then and now.
About what compelled him to write the piece, he says, “I remember being so blown away by the way many of the people in the village lived. But I was also conflicted and felt guilty about being part of the problem. We were a bunch of tourists seemingly exploiting their culture. And yet, I also saw a community that was, in a way, doing the best with what was given. They’d learned to profit and thrive in that climate.”
Let the story go where it wants, and needs, to go. Perhaps that sounds simple, but any writer knows that there’s always this barrier that needs to come down. Grippi explains how his own creative nonfiction develops: “With essays, I tend to start with an emotion, which often brings out a certain element of cynicism and sarcasm. But by the end of the essay, I think that softens a bit. It’s the growth or understanding I come to where I still feel that things aren’t right, but I also come to see the necessity or at least the ‘why’ things are that way. That’s one of the reasons I love creative nonfiction so much. I always go into a topic thinking it’s about one thing and later realize it’s about something else.”
Sadly, many narratives remain untold — and entire communities struggle not to be erased. I was curious to know what else (beyond the illuminating honeymoon experience) connects this writer to the themes he chose to write about back then. Grippi reflects, “I do still consider misunderstood/exploited communities. My parents are immigrants to this country, which, I think, has always heightened my senses when it comes to my identity and the identity of others. I’ve also had the privilege of growing up around immigrants from other diverse cultures, and that influences a lot of my writing and the way I see the world. I often find myself thinking about and writing about the experience of the outsider or the misunderstood.”
Grippi teaches students across all disciplines who often (we hope) end up submitting to The York Review. I asked how he incorporates risk-taking in the classroom, and was fascinated by his response: “Encouraging students to write about societal concerns is tricky. What I fear often happens is that someone will start with a stance and then try to create art around their position. I’m not convinced that’s a good approach. Those pieces often come off feeling preachy — almost like propaganda in a way. I try to get students to start, instead, with an experience. It has to start with people doing things, experiencing things, feeling things. It has to happen with scenes that a reader or viewer can connect to emotionally. Because what often happens is that the person who starts that way will eventually end up in a new place that’s surprising and maybe even uncomfortable for them. And if it’s working on that level for the writer, then it’s going to work on that level for the reader. That’s the whole thing for me.”
Looking back, Grippi says there are things he wants to revise in “Modern-Day Mayans and the Taming of the Yucatan.” I suppose no draft ever really is “final,” so, for what it’s worth, here’s his story from 2005.
During our honeymoon, my wife and I became completely fascinated, almost obsessed, with the thought of seeing Mayan ruins. Maybe it was the free alcohol talking, but suddenly taking a bus trip with fifty other tourists in the tropical Yucatan heat seemed like a good idea. I for one have always thought that a vacation is pointless if you’re not going to learn something in the process. Besides, we needed a break from the hours of free food, Coronas by the pool and hazy days of Margaritas on the beach. A sober, educational trip would be very much appreciated.
The next morning we eagerly woke at 7 a.m., seeing the heralded breakfast buffet for the first time, to speak with our on-staff Apple Vacations guide. He assured us that we would not be disappointed. For only eighty American dollars each, we would now get to see the real Mexico. We would see real Mayan houses, spend time with a real Mayan family, and get a guided hiking tour of the real Mayan jungle with a real Mayan tour guide to see real Mayan monkeys. Not only that, but the fair price would also include the chance to climb the second highest Mayan pyramid and a free lunch served with free cervezitas, “Coronas, Tecates, qual queres… whatever you like.” Sold.
We boarded the bus and we were on our way. First stop; an authentic Mayan store where we could buy authentic Mayan goods. Enthusiastically, we jumped off the bus to use the restrooms and embrace this foreign culture. After much deliberation and a half-hearted bargaining war with the financially deceiving Indian behind the counter, my wife and I reboarded the bus satisfied. We purchased one authentic hand-woven Mayan blanket for $20, one hand-carved Mayan chess set for $40, two bottles of soda totaling $2, and one pack of authentic Marlboro lights for $1.50.
Next stop, a Christian-Mayan church and school. Apparently, a Christian minister traveling here about thirty years ago became overwhelmed with grief upon finding an unsaved civilization. So, he did what any concerned civilized man would do, he converted as many of them as he possibly could. Then, the school was set up to teach the younger generations how to get on in the real world. It was a slow process, but eventually, the uncivilized, uneducated poor souls would be able to live life closer to how “real” humans do.
***
With their newly saved souls and an open door to the civilized world, the Mayans could now be introduced to what any civilized culture needs to function properly, money. And in time, the gates were open to the hottest tourist attraction this side of the Yucatan. As more and more civilized tourists came through this once untainted area, they began to see how difficult the life of the Mayans could be. Imagine all of the amenities that we take for granted. These people had never seen anything like forks, microwaves, or even Tupperware. I mean Tupperware for Christ’s sake, how did they survive?
***
After leaving the church, my wife and I still had a much romanticized view of what the Mayans we would be meeting would like. No, we didn’t expect to see bare-foot, half-clothed natives wearing full head gear or anything, just something that remotely resembled the native culture we had only see in text books before. I suppose it was our understanding of the word authentic that was misconstrued.
As the bus approached the village, our guide began describing the Mayan wake of life. As he did this he also pointed out the window to some Mayan homes that sat along the road. The homes were exactly as I picture they would be — small stick-built huts with thatched roots. We learned that each of these homes was constructed using long sticks strategically placed about a half inch apart to allow for ventilation. The roofs were also strategically built on a slant to protect from treacherous tropical storms. Supposedly, these homes were able to withstand the effects of hurricanes. Some of them were also built of stone and, to our surprise, some of them had more extravagant, modern-looking stucco homes built in front of them. Our guide explained that some Mayans had recently build second, more modern homes; however, the stick-built homes were still used for most of their everyday duties like cooking and bathing.
As our bus came to a stop in front of one of these dwellings we were suddenly swarmed by a large group of children. Many of them ran toward us with smiles on their faces. Our guide explained that the children were always happy to see the bus because he came loaded with candy. There was only one catch. In order for the children to receive candy they would first have to fill the plastic bags with garbage. This was the first time I noticed how much garbage littered the village. The road was covered with wrappers and cigarette butts; the areas surrounding the houses were also littered with plastic containers, cardboard boxes, and even junked cars.
Along with Christianity and knowledge of civilized customs case trash — large quantities of it. Prior to the modern-day invasion, Mayan consumption was completely biodegradable. Bowls and drinking cups were usually made of wood or clay. All of their food was either hunted or grown and anything that was left over or broken would simply be discarded into the forest. The Mayans were introduced to modern-day conveniences like utensils, glass, and prepackaged foods by travelers and tourists who traded with them on a regular basis for handmade goods. Unfortunately, they unknowingly began discarding the new products the same they had the biodegradable ones. Hence, a village that was natural and pristine at one time now looked like something more reminiscent on a garbage dump.
***
We assisted in handing out garbage bags and then crossed the road to one of the small dwellings. Here we would meet our real Mayan family. Mulac greeted us at the door holding a baby. He was probably no more than five foot three and wore black denim pants, a Nike t-shirt and sneakers. Here he was, a true Mayan Indian. He invited us into his home so we could meet the rest of his family. Inside, we were introduced to his wife, an infant and another small child who was swinging in one of the four hammocks that hung across the room. This was where they slept. While we stood in Mulac’s home, I noticed other small children walking in and out of the room. My wife eventually counted eight different children who were either in the house or hanging around just outside. Then someone in the group asked our guide if the children all belonged to Mulac and his wife. “Yes,” he answered laughingly, “the Mayans do not believe in the use of birth control, but I have an appointment set up with a doctor in Cancun for Mulac. He approached me a few weeks ago asking how he could go about getting a vasectomy.” We left the house and moved on to the monkeys. Here we were introduced to another Mayan. He guided us through the jungle to find the 22 monkeys that roamed freely in the wild. They had named like Jorge, Luz, and Pedtro.
After hiking through the jungle in search of monkeys with our Mayan guide who wore Wrangler jeans, flip flops, and a fluorescent pink hat that read RENO Nevada, we began the hike back to the bus. As we approached the bus, we saw an old man in the distance walking along the road. He was small and decrepit walking with a cane and slouched to one side. This ancient, bare-chested, longhaired Mayan was the medicine man, the oldest member of the family that made up this village; he was said to be over 100 years old. Behind us, the swarm of children ran toward us merrily holding full garbage bags. We collected the bags from the children and took photos with them as we handed them candy. My wife and I boarded the bus and sat down in our assigned seats. I looked out the window and couldn’t help but imagine how these children would be living their lives 10 or 20 years from now. I wondered how much things were going to change for them, and if they would be able to adapt.
***
Somewhere between the beginning of civilization and man’s need to destroy everything he touched, something happened to the relationship between humans and nature. At what point did nature become something to be exploited and controlled? I suppose that if we look back through history there have always been people trying to tame the wild beast. But, there are people who, at one time, lived as one with nature. These people respected and embraced it, realizing that they would to adapt to it.
Instead we, the “civilized” humans, found ways to make nature adapt to us. We cut down trees to build houses and businesses. We fenced off fields to keep our property in and anyone or anything that didn’t belong out. In our stubbornness to not embrace nature we’ve forced it to change to our benefit. However, people who live life truly in tune with nature still exist, but they are few and dwindling. These people will eventually be erased because of our incessant need to feel fulfilled by imposing our beliefs and way of life on them. We cannot understand the life of purity and innocence that can only come through this closeness with nature, so the easiest and most profitable way to deal with it is to change the people who live it, forcing them to adapt to our way of life.
***
The last few passengers were now boarding the bus and I soon realized that perhaps we were just another aspect of nature that the Mayans were adapting to. For thousands of years these primitive people found new ways to learn how to survive from their surroundings. When the weather was good, they ate from the earth. When the weather was bad, they to build shelters and hunt. And although what they are learning from the civilized is harmful to them in many ways, the traditions they have held on to and their instinctive skills of survival keep their kind living. As the bus pulled away, I saw children’s smiling faces eating candy, and throwing the wrappers on the ground.