The Binnizá

All was darkness

when the Binnizá were born.

They blossomed from the old trees

like the silk-cotton,

born from the wombs of wild beasts,

like the tiger, the alligator.

When the great light fell

from the highest sun,

our great father

held hands with

the nutrias,

also our mothers.

The Binnizá saved themselves

by floating on the water

like giant sea turtles.

Like jellyfish they filled

with water, carrying

their children on their nipples.

An ancient language

entangled with their souls

and the people were called Binni Zaá,

speakers of the sweet, mysterious,

magical Didxazá language,

that is still kept pure,

large as the mountains,

strong as the ocelot

and the puma, our old

fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters.

The Didxazá language

is the voice of the trees,

song of the birds,

murmur of sun, wind,

stars, sea and rivers

as wide as the sky.

It is the language of the gods,

of fierce fathers and sisters:
like the ocelot, alligator

and tired-eyed sea turtles.

It is the sound of the invisible beings,

of mountains, air, mud,

of the visible, vibrant natural world.

Born in the roots

of the great old trees,

in the bellies of beasts.

The silk-cotton, sapodilla, cypress,

jasmine and wild lilies

are our parent guardians.

And tiger, ocelot,

alligators, coyotes, nutrias,

have been our ancient grandparents.

And that’s why the river has sheltered

the age-old trees and

quenched the thirst of the animals

who gave life to the Binnizá.

These beings’ branches soar skyward

and the roar of the beasts echoes

across hills of sharp thorns.

Our grandparents are the ancient Záa

who crossed waters and mountains

from the valley of Oaxaca.

Their eyes were flames in the night,

their souls fearless ever since,

and they were guided by the tendrils

of their ancient father, the sun.

They survived on fruit,

dressed in the skins of wild beasts,

and heard the call of the sea snail.

After walking for so long

and speaking with the moon and stars,

the shadows of Oaxaca’s mountains,

rivers, and lagoons protecting them,

they finally arrived in the hot lowlands

to be closer to the sun.

The fish are their brothers.

Guijazo, Gubidxa Zóo,

Atalaya, seer,

one who can see great distances

and shines like father sun.

You are our first blood,

your white robes illuminated

the path of the Binnizá.

The light of your wisdom

guided the priests

to speak Didxazá,

you inspire the warriors

to defend honor,

lands and oceans

and rivers born

at your deep blue side.

Your hands were comets crossing

the sky at the same time

as the birth of our grandparents

who threshed clouds, seafoam,

fishes, lilies, lobsters.

Huijazóo, Gubidxa Zóo,

You still preside over the wild soul

of the Binnizá and they still cry for you

as one wails before the great sun.