“The place where the gods of the ancestors chose to reveal themselves lies beyond a long distance. But that does not matter. Scout, you go ahead. We will follow you along the narrow footpath. Stop here to catch your breath, because the slope is steep and does not end soon. Protect yourself from the storm under those leafy trees, in that low pen where the sheep take shelter. Careful! Do not slip in the mud or stumble on the rock. Adjust your load so the offering will arrive undamaged: pom, the wild incense, the smoke that dissolves in praises; slow-burning wax candles; jars of aguardiente that inspire a fluency of prayer in those who drink them. Do you not know that each time God looks with malevolence upon the world and wants to destroy it (because our sins irritate him, because he is ashamed of our misery), men placate him with these gifts? God grants his alliance among sacred libations, among flickering lights and pleasant chants; this is known by those who transact with him, those who listen to his commands and serve the people as guides.

“It is said by Catalina Díaz Puiljá, and repeated by those who go after her. If you once knew the grotto where the gods appeared, you will no longer succeed in recognizing it. Look: where there was no more than mountain and brush, there are paths, paths that are frequently traversed. And the interior, once dark and damp, is now clean, sprinkled and fragrant with pine needles. In the center, what is that shape rising up? It is a wooden box, a kind of altar where the idol reposes. The box is unpolished, it was not planed well and you must handle it carefully or you will get splinters in your fingers. That is because the hands of Indians made it here.

“There are better workers in Jobel, no doubt. But it is not good to profane our ceremonies, to allow Caxláns to mix with them. No alien hand must touch even a board. The candles, the liquor, we made them ourselves, too. And the thing that is wrapped around the saint, what is it? It is a shawl. It came from far away, from Guatemala; it was woven there, by the hands of Indians as well. It has the additional virtue of having been the property of a woman who has fire on her head; flames spring from her and spill down her back and do not burn her. Do not fear any evil from her; she is not a Coleta, she is not from Ciudad Real. She is a foreigner and the wife of our protector and father Fernando Ulloa. Her name is Julia Acevedo.