Mystery of the Giant Stones

Little faces wore tired expressions as Senora Tagubase stood in front of the classroom teaching history to her students. She drew a crude outline of Central America while the children watched. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday, which meant children’s minds were anywhere but inside the classroom.
Paolo daydreamed about beach football and tree climbing. His eyes glazed over as he sat in the back of class. Although Senora Tagubase was his favorite teacher, he found history utterly boring. He wished to be anywhere but there.
“The world before Columbus was very different. People lived in their own tribes, whether they were Aztec, Maya, Inca, Spanish, Italian, German or Russian.”
She continued talking as she drew colored arrows and lines on the chalkboard. She was always fond of using all of her colored chalk. She felt it helped to keep the children’s interest. Today, it wasn’t working at all.
“BRRRRINNG!”
All the children sat upright, happy the day was over. Before they packed their books into their desks, Sra. Tagubase interrupted.
“I have some homework for everyone,” she said.
A collective groan came from the class.
“I want everyone to write a two-page report on “The World Before Columbus.”
The children sat upright in their chairs. It was the first time in awhile, the children were alert and awake in her classroom. Sra. Tagubase paused for a few seconds, and then flipped her hands toward the children in a shooing motion.
“Everyone have a good weekend. See you on Monday.”
Chairs scooted across the tiled floor as children hurried home. Paolo placed his books inside his desk and headed for the door.
“Paolo,” called Sra. Tagubase.
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you going to take your history books with you?”
“Uh…yes…of course,” he retrieved his history book from the desk and tucked it under his arm.
“Is that the only book you’re taking home?” she asked.
Paolo re-opened the desk lid. He pulled out his math and spelling books. Finally, he added his Spanish book, too. He glanced up from his desk. Sra. Tagubase stood at her desk with her arms folded neatly across her chest. She gave a nod of approval.
Paolo headed for the door with all of his school books. He left his books at school whenever he could get away with it. This was not going to be one of those times.
“Paolo?”
“Yes?” he sighed.
“Would you like a ride home from school?”
Paolo nodded.
“Good enough,” she replied.
They walked to the school’s parking lot. Sra. Tagubase’s hatchback sat in the far corner of the parking lot.
“What are all these books in the back seat?”
“They’re my homework for the weekend.”
“You can’t have homework. You’re the teacher.”
“I have to read so I will be prepared for class.”
Paolo turned around to look in the back seat. He sorted through the picture books, picking out one he liked. It was called Petrospheres of Costa Rica. A man stood beside a large globe-shaped stone on the cover. The stone was taller than the man.
“You have one of these in your front yard,” stated Paolo
“Actually, we have two. One has been chopped in half.”
“Chopped in half?”
“When the Spanish arrived in Costa Rica, they still hadn’t found a great horde of gold. They assumed the Costa Ricans were hiding it somewhere. The first place they looked was inside the rocks.”
Paolo flipped through the pages of the book as Sra. Tagubase drove down the two-lane highway overlooking the Caribbean. Sea breezes pushed the tiny car back and forth as it climbed the hillside. Finally, she reached her destination, parking at the top of the hill.
Paolo ran to the large half-moon rock sitting in the middle of the yard.
“Is this it?”
“It sure is.”
Paolo rubbed both hands over the surface of the stone. Its half-moon shape was something he had never considered before. He imagined a man swinging his long sword into the large stone, chopping it in half with one mighty slice. The outer surface of the stone was smooth, but the top was jagged like a cliff. He figured it would also be smooth. To Paolo, that didn’t look right at all.
“How do you think they cut these stones in half?”
“They probably didn’t cut it at all,” replied Sra. Tagubase.
“Me neither.”
“I imagine two men worked together. One held the chisel while the other held the hammer. The man with the hammer pounded and pounded until the chisel broke the stone in half.”
Mrs. Tagubase went inside while Paolo investigated the stone. Tiny cracks appeared along the surface. She returned with two glasses of fresh mango juice.
“Who do you think created these?”
“It could have been the Aztecs. It could have been the Mayans. It probably could have even been the Incas.”
“Aren’t they from South America?”
“Archeologists are just now discovering that the Mesoamericans used Costa Rica as part of a trading route.”
“Mesoamericans?”
“That’s what scientists call the native peoples that lived in the Americas before the Europeans came. It includes all the native peoples of South and North America. The ‘Indians’ were nomads, traveling north and south between the two continents.”
Paolo drank the remaining mango juice and returned his cup to Mrs. Tagubase.
“I guess I have lots to write about,” replied Paolo.
“You sure do.”
“May I borrow that book I was reading in the car?”
“Take it for the weekend,” she said.
Paolo went to his house and dropped all of his books on his study desk. He flipped through his history book first, reading about the Mesoamericans. The book talked about peasant priests. They were tribal leaders who prayed to the gods and held councils. The peasant priests were the ones who made important decisions for their tribes.
Paolo relaxed on the couch while he read the book, thinking about the earliest Costa Ricans. It seemed such a long time ago.
Even the author did not know why the giant stones were made or how they were used.
Paolo imagined using ancient carving tools to chip away pieces of stone. The odd thing, though, was the surface of the stone. It was smooth, but not perfectly smooth. There were no cracks or chisel marks except for where the half-moon stone was broken in half.
“Maybe they are bowling balls for an ancient race of giants.”
He imagined carving large stone bowling pins and rolling the stone down the hill. He wondered who would set the fallen pins up again. He wondered who would roll the ball back up the hill, too.
A knock came upon the screen door. It was Rafael.
“¿Que pasa, mi amigo?” called Rafael.
“Ay! Nada,” replied Paolo, “Venga! Venga!” he said, inviting his best friend to come inside.
“Vayamos a la playa,” suggested Rafael.
Although Paolo should be studying, he did want to go to the beach. Without hesitation, Paolo closed the book and put it away. He and Rafael played volleyball and football. They also bodysurfed the waves until sunset. This was how Paolo spent the rest of his weekend.
Paolo returned to the giant stone late on Sunday evening. He pressed his hands against the rough edges of the half-moon stone. The surface was cold.
It made him think of the giant mountains all around him. He imagined ancient Aztec gods using hammers and chisels, breaking the tops off smooth mountains, creating jagged paths along the ocean side.
He went over to the full moon stone and climbed to the top. He stood there for a moment, looking around. He sat down and then laid face down, draped across the sphere. The rock’s surface cooled his body. He rubbed his hands over the surface, tracing the cracks. Ants marched along the surface, crawling in and out of the cracks. He wondered what the ants were thinking.
“Who is that giant boy who just sat on my cousin?” he squeaked as he mimicked an ant’s voice. He chuckled at the thought of being the Ant God.
“Why did the Mesoamericans make these stones?” he wondered.
Mrs. Tagubase came outside. Paolo turned his head toward her and smiled.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked.
“I was thinking about becoming an Ant God.”
“You were?” she said, as she folded her hands across her chest the way she always did.
“How do you think the Mesoamericans used these stones, Senora? I think they were religious symbols.”
“Some archaeologists think that, too. Others think the stones came from an ancient land called Atlantis. There’s even a legend that there’s a coffee bean in the center of each one.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’ve got it!”
“You’ve got what?” she asked.
“An idea for my report!”
Paolo hopped off the giant stone and ran to his house. In no time at all, he scribbled his thoughts onto the plain white paper. His report was titled “Mystery of the Giant Stones.”
He used his history book as a reference to talk about the Mesoamerican priests. They were called shamans. The shamans performed witchcraft and believed that their tribal leader was given unearthly powers.
He titled his story “Mystery of the Giant Stones.” He imagined the peasant priest standing atop the stone, preaching to their followers by the light of a full moon. A bonfire flared in front of him. The villagers used his speeches for inspiration.After he finished his report, he folded the paper and tucked it neatly between the pages of his history book. That night, as he lay in bed, he watched the full moon outside. It was the same moon that also lit the night for the peasant priests. Even though it was 1000 years later, he figured they weren’t that different after all.