gems, jade, pyroxene jade, fei cui, mesoamerica, Guatemala, Mexico, Aztec, Olmec

THE night was calm and clear; the moon was full. As we lay stretched on our cots, the warm south breeze brought to our ears the sound of a steady, rhythmic stamping like the distant beating of drums. Rising and falling in volume with the vagaries of the breeze came the lively strains of stringed music, interspersed with the high-pitched wail of falsetto voices. It was the first night of our return to camp at Tres Zapotes in south-eastern Mexico and the fandango was in full swing at the village a mile away. It was good to be back again at the familiar scene. The brilliant moonlight filtering between the vertical palm-ribbed walls of our thatched house cut slices through our mosquito nets as though they were loaves of bread. Unseen, from a tree beside the house, a goatsucker, made amorous by the moonlight, sent out at regular intervals his mournful query, “Who are you?” and from a distance came the faint reply, “Who are you?”