Sky People (6 page)

I
often think of the small boy, Miguel, who sat silently adoring the old man and agreeing with every word he uttered. I have not seen Miguel since that first meeting, but some nights, when I look at the stars, I think that Miguel, like Raul Manuel, is probably high above Earth floating in that silver sombrero and taking care of the Sky People’s garden
.

T
here is a legend that when the man/god Quetzalcoatl left Tula, he walked to a mountain and entered it, and it closed behind him. There are various accounts throughout the indigenous world of Star Men who meld into solid structures including mountains. In Peru, there are stories of gods who were able to walk through walls to enter another dimension
.

In this chapter, you will meet a witness who reports that Star Men often come from space and visit the ancient temples. They have the ability to walk through the solid walls of the temples and disappear inside mountains
.

Alexandro Jean was the manager of the small, boutique hotel where I stayed in Belize City. He was a short, stout man with a bucktooth smile and curly black hair that always appeared as though he had been caught in a wind storm. He wore a silver concho belt over his tight, black polyester pants, a cowboy hat, and a long-sleeved, starched white shirt that appeared out of place in the humid weather.

“I hear that you like stories,” Alexandro declared as I entered the small hotel lobby on my way to the restaurant. I nodded and he motioned me to the desk. “I have a personal story I can tell you about UFOs,” he said in a stage whisper as he glanced around the room as though watching for eavesdroppers. “I work day and night at the desk, but in the early morning hours, there is no one around. Perhaps if you stop by, I can tell you my story.”

“How did you know I collect UFO stories?” I asked.

“Nothing escapes me, Doctor. It’s my business to know about our guests. Our security guard overheard you talking to your driver. He was curious that you were interested in UFOs. We don’t meet too many people with such interest, mostly white men who have no respect. He told one of the housekeepers who was his wife, about what you were doing, and she told my wife, and that is how it got back to me. Words have feet in a small hotel. We like to know all about our guests. I live many lives behind this desk and travel the world without ever leaving through the lives of my guests. Doctor, your life makes me very curious.”

“Why are you so curious?” I asked.

“A woman alone. Traveling through Belize looking for UFOs. That is curious.”

“I’m not looking for UFOs, although I must admit, I would be happy to see one,” I said. “I am collecting stories about UFOs. I am retracing, as much as possible, the footsteps of Stephens and Catherwood, and along the way, I collect stories from indigenous people about their encounters with UFOs. That’s my story.”

“I see. Stephens and Catherwood, eh? I know them. They are dead dudes. Why would you follow two dead dudes?”

“It’s a teenage promise from a long time ago,” I said, offering him more information than I had planned.

“I see. You underestimate yourself, dear lady. You are very curious. Few men have tried to follow Stephens and Catherwood. Occasionally I see someone looking for stories about UFOs, but they do not possess the methods needed to get the local people to talk. You, on the other hand, seem to be able to touch people’s hearts and souls. I see how everybody talks to you from the child on the street, the housekeeper, the waiter, the beggar. I’ve observed you. People are curious about you, too. If you run out of people to talk to, come see me.” He paused and handed a letter to a guest before continuing. “If you want a true story, from an indigenous man—
me
—I will tell you a true one that I experienced when I was a young man.”

When Buddy dropped me off shortly after midnight the next evening, I made my way to the front desk. Alexandro Jean was sitting behind the counter watching a small TV. He stood when I approached.

“I’ve stopped by to hear your story,” I announced.

Alexandro smiled and showed me to two chairs near a large window that faced the street. “Could I get you some coffee, tea, or a soft drink?” he asked as I pulled out my notebook.

“No. I really don’t need anything. I just want to hear your story.”

“You are all business, Doctor. So I will keep to business.” He sat down, pulled a coffee table closer, and propped up his feet. “I hope you do not mind,” he said, pointing to his feet. I shook my head and he began.

“I will start at the beginning. I did not always live in Belize City, but in a rural village about sixty miles from here. I left for Belize City when I was about twenty. My encounter occurred the summer I was eighteen. There were four of us, my friends and me. We grew up together. Albert was with me. He was my cousin. There was my best friend, Javier, and his brother, Jean. There was an abandoned Maya city near our village. It was small and the government never restored it. I think there have been archaeologists working there the last couple of years, but when I was a boy, it was deserted. We often left the village and went there with our alcohol. We could get drunk and no one would stop us. Our mothers and grandmothers did not like us to drink. If they caught us with alcohol, they would beat us.” He paused and laughed about his remembrance.

“Are you telling me you were drunk when you had your encounter?” I asked.

“No. I was not drunk. We went there to drink, but we had not had anything to drink when we saw the space men.”

“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“The first thing I remember was the smell. When we approached the site, there was a strange, unfamiliar odor. Jean pointed it out immediately and we all agreed he was right. It was
a strange smell. Nothing familiar to us, and as we were discussing what it might be, we came out of the tree canopy into the plaza. That’s when we saw the craft. It was setting in the middle of the plaza.”

“Can you describe it?” I asked.

“It was a long, dull, dark metallic craft. It looked like a tank and at first, we thought it was a tank, but then we saw the space men. They were dressed in gray suits that matched the craft. They were tall and thin and had light hair. They did not wear headgear like modern astronauts. That’s what confused us at first. To tell you the truth, my first thought was that they were Americans and we had stumbled upon some secret operation by the American military. When you live in this part of the world, we always hear rumors about American soldiers carrying out secret missions. I don’t know how much is truth or fiction or a combination of the two.” He paused when the phone rang and excused himself. I heard him call for security, who appeared almost immediately. He directed him to take ice to the lady who had rented the penthouse on the top floor.

“Sorry for the interruption,” he said as he returned to the chair next to me. “We have guests who never sleep.”

“You were saying that when you first saw the space men, you thought they were U.S. military,” I said, reminding him of his stopping-off point.

“Yes. Part of it was the color of their hair and part was the uniforms. They wore very strange uniforms. They were two-piece. The shirt was like a tunic that came down over the waistband of the pants. The pants were tucked into boots. The strangest part about their uniforms was that when they moved about, the colors changed to match their environment. When they were close to their craft, the uniforms were dark gray to match the craft. If they were near trees, their uniforms became green and blended into the jungle. When they climbed the temple, they were the color of the stone. My cousin, Albert, said it was a military secret, and they wore uniforms to make them invisible to the enemy. We decided that only U.S. soldiers would know how to do that, so we all agreed that this explanation sounded logical.”

Alexandro paused as two inebriated men entered the hotel. They had their arms around each other to steady themselves. When they saw us, they called out to Alexandro and offered him a drink. Immediately, Alexandro moved to the desk and called security. When a short, muscular man dressed in a navy blue uniform with an insignia on the shoulder and a policeman-style hat appeared, the two doubled over in laughter, steadied themselves, and saluted him. The security officer moved forward, took their room key, and ushered them toward the hallway. “Jack will take care of them. They’re harmless. They have been with us for two weeks. They are opening a hamburger franchise here in Belize, and every night they go out and get drunk. And every night, I call Jack and he puts them to bed.” I heard him give directions to Jack in Kriol, a dialect that is spoken throughout the country, and then turned to me again.

“So when did you decide that the men you were observing at the ancient site were not from the USA?” I asked.

“The four of us remained hidden and watched the scene unfolding before us. Alberto suggested we should leave and go get the village men, but Javier thought we should stay and watch. Jean agreed. I did, too, so we stayed. At first, they seemed to be checking their craft. They walked around it, occasionally stopping and recording something in a glowing tablet they carried. After a few minutes they walked toward the temple, but they did not climb the stairs; they walked through the stairs. We were all struck speechless. We could not believe what we had seen. We knew that underneath the temple was a cave. The four of us had found the entrance when we were boys, but we couldn’t walk through the stairs. They were solid stone, but they walked through them like they were not there.” He paused momentarily, got up, and returned with two bottles of Coca-Cola. Just as he started to sit down, two men leaned against the large hotel window in front of where we were sitting. He walked to the window and pounded on the glass. The unsuspecting men jumped as though they had been shot out of a cannon. They turned and looked at Alexandro, and let out a volley of curse words in English and Kriol before they moved on. “Sorry, Doctor. That is
the reason I must work all night. I must protect the hotel from drunks. I sleep in the mornings and begin again at noon.”

“So tell me, what did you do when the strange men disappeared inside the stairs?” I asked.

“We decided to go to our secret entrance and sneak into the cave. We wanted to see what they were doing. We had never told anyone about the cave and for some reason it felt like they were invading our private property. Javier was particularly upset. There were artifacts in the cave and he was afraid they would steal them. So we crept toward the entrance, staying hidden by the foliage until we could conceal ourselves behind some scattered remains of other buildings. That’s when they reappeared. We heard them talking but their language was unfamiliar. It was not English. We speak English like the Americans.”

“Did they have any of the artifacts?” I asked.

“No, but it seemed to us that they were looking for something.”

“How many men entered the temple walls?”

“There were four.”

“Were you closer to them at this point?”

“Yes. We could see their faces. They looked normal except they had unusually high foreheads. I think it was because they were going bald because their hair was set back on their head and was thin. We knew these men were not from the USA. They were foreigners. I think it was Alberto who suggested they came from the stars. These were no ordinary humans. As we were coming to that conclusion, they moved to the west. We decided to follow. Behind the main plaza temple, there is a small mountain. It was actually another temple but it was totally overgrown with trees and grass. We watched as they walked through the mountain. We were totally shocked. At this point, Javier decided he was going aboard the craft that was setting in the plaza. He ran toward the craft. We followed. But just as we entered the edge of the plaza, the strange men reappeared out of nowhere. Like a puff of smoke.”

“Do you mean they had the ability to appear and disappear?”

“They must have. They just appeared.”

“Did they see you?”

“At this point, yes.”

“Did they attempt to communicate with you?”

“No. They disappeared again and it was less than a minute when the craft moved upward and within seconds it was gone. We watched it climb above the trees. It stopped briefly overhead as though examining us, and then they were gone. Zip, zip, zip. Gone.” He made a zigzag motion with his hand illustrating the craft’s movement.

“You said you felt as though they were examining you? Were there windows or anything distinctive about the craft?”

“No windows. We saw no lights, but it was the late afternoon. The sun was still bright. It was just a feeling. They hovered above us. I assumed they were watching us.”

“Did you stay at the site for your drinking party?”

“Jean said it was a sign. We should give up drinking.”

“What kind of a sign?”

“A sign from God. He said they could be angels.”

“Did you agree?”

“No. They came from the stars and they returned to the stars. I think we scared them as much as they scared us.”

“Have you had any other experiences with Star Men?” I asked.

“I have seen UFOs several times. I saw the one last night. Did you see it?” I nodded. “But I have never seen anything like we saw that day.”

“Can you tell me anything else about the experience?”

“It was so powerful that we never went back there again. We never found a different drinking place, either. In fact, we never had a drinking party after that. Maybe they were angels,” he said laughing. “They sure made us give up our drinking ways.”

A day later, I checked out of Alexandro’s hotel and moved to Belmopan. As I was leaving, he stopped me in the lobby. “Be careful in your travels. It is a dangerous world out there, and don’t let anyone ever say that you are not a curious woman. You are very curious.” He reached out and embraced me, kissing
me on my cheek. “Come back anytime, Doctor. We can spend another night together. The next time, I give you the penthouse suite at no extra charge.”