When I was real sick in the rock house, I couldn't open my mouth or move my head, I couldn't talk-- I was just hurting all over. That was the second time, with Agnes-- I lost her too. I was about 23 -24 years old. All of a sudden my grandfather came. He stood at the head of the bed. "Cóche," he said, an endearing word for "granddaughter." He put his two hands on my head. Little people came out of his hands and marched down to my feet. They were all men, dressed in black, with white collars and black hats. After they had marched across my fingers and down to my feet, they crossed up across my hands again and returned into his hands. When I awoke, I had no pain; I was relaxed. But I had to learn to walk all over again. He always was a healer.
Martha Chacon, Interview, April 19, 1996
