The agricultural terraces of Xoxocotlán, Atzompa, Mexicapam and Ixtlahuaca had already tired, and the year was very bad in rains.
Cocijo, the gentlemen understood, was forcing what the wise men had seen in the books and confirmed by the different omens: a famine was approaching like the one in the previous cycle: the owl did not stop singing its song. The main lords had already left a few moons ago, after a strong earthquake that signaled their time to leave. It was known that they already had another seat, down there in the Valley, where some small tributary towns used to be. There they went with their families and their servants, to settle and begin again, to sow the land, to form new population centers with which the Benizáa would once again be strong, glorious and conquerors, as was their destiny.
Much of the city was abandoned; What was once all splendor for its color and movement, today it looked collapsed. Temples and palaces had not been redecorated for a long time. The Great Plaza of Dani Báa had been closed with great walls by the last lords, trying to avoid the attacks of the southern armies that were acquiring great power.
The small group that remained offered their gods for the last time with incense burners of copal; He entrusted his dead to the lord of the shadows, the god Bat, and verified that the sculptures of snakes and jaguars of the demolished temples were on view to protect the beloved spirits that remained there in his absence. Likewise, the Benizáa made sure to leave visible the great warriors carved on the tombstones to intimidate the looters. They took the brooms and swept their houses for the last time, following the neatness that characterized their great lords and priests, and carefully deposited small offerings to what had been their dwellings.
Men, women and children wrapped their scarce penises, their weapons, tools, clay utensils and some urns of their gods in blankets to accompany them on their journey, and they began their way towards an uncertain life. Such was their distress that when they passed by the great Temple of the Warriors, towards the south side of what was the Great Plaza, they did not even notice the corpse of an old man who had just died in the shade of a tree and was left behind. four winds, as a silent witness to the end of a cycle of power and glory.
With tears in their eyes they were trudging down the paths that had previously been the merry ways of the merchants. Sadly, they turned to take a last look at their beloved city, and at that moment the lords knew that she was not dead, that Dani Báa was starting from then on her way to immortality.
Source: Passages of History No. 3 Monte Albán and the Zapotecs / October 2000
