Vasija

A vessel rather than a face ...

In 2015 it was time to build a new house. Plans were drawn up, construction arrangements were made. The plans included a basement underneath the living room. In Antigua, Guatemala there is an organization called CNPAG or, in English, the National Council for the Protection of Antigua, Guatemala. As Antigua is an UNESCO World Heritage Site CNPAG is charged with the responsibility of “care, restoration and conservation of national, municipal or private personal and real property located within Antigua.” Affectionately called “the consejo” by locals it has mixed reviews for what are often deemed as mixed messages. As an example, my new house was forbidden to have a second floor despite every other house in the gated community having a second floor. Why? It is the rule. This week. Building plans have to be blessed by the consejo and representatives turn up now and then to make sure that there are no deviations from the approved plans. Given the historic nature of the town there is a rule that if you dig down (as one would do for a basement) there must be an archeologist on site. Thus we had an archeologist overseeing the future basement.

On one of those days there was the sound of a shovel hitting something unusual. Hitting and breaking something unusual in fact. The archeologist quickly determined that an object of value had been found. She retrieved the pieces and reassembled them as best she could for a photograph then indicated that she was legally obliged to turn the pieces over to the consejo. The finding would be registered with the consejo, restored and eventually returned to me, if I lived long enough as it turns out.

I sent off the photo to a couple of prominent archeologists and the consensus was that the vasija, vessel or pot, was pre-hispanic, sixth to eight century. As it turned out that was the last I would see of the vasija for several years. Every now and then someone would come to the door from the consejo and have me sign something. My architect assured me that the piece had been registered to me but he was unsuccessful in finding out its location or anything further about the process. The archeologist told me that it was likely in Guatemala City as that is where the tramites, or business processes, took place for such artifacts. She was unable to find out where it was or what would happen next. My Spanish teacher and I visited the consejo and were told that the piece was not there. As it turns out we had not gone to the correct office. Finally, someone suggested that I check in with the head archeologist in the consejo who turned out to be a very accomodating woman who indicated that the piece, or pieces, had been in a box next to her desk for over three years. She asked me why no one had phoned her. I did not have an answer for her. The next step she told me would be the restoration of the piece by a specialist which, of course, I would have to pay for.

At long last the restoration was paid for and was going to take place in an obscure building behind the Antigua market. I was invited to go and watch the process.

The specialist was overseen by the archeologist who had been on site when the piece was found and the two were overseen by an employee of the consejo. In exchange for what I had paid for the restoration which finally took pace in the later part of 2020 a fifty-page booklet detailing the restoration process was delivered to me.

Once the restoration was completed the consejo’s archeologist told me that the piece would then have to go to another office for the juridico, or judicial process. She had no idea how long that might take as it had never taken place in Antigua before, only in Guatemala City. But wait, the “specialist” who did the restoration had not actually graduated when she did the work. Several more months went by and somehow that was resolved.

Beautifully restored, the consensus is that the piece was used for sacred ceremonies because of the burn marks and the four cardinal points.

Some six months later, in 2022, I paid another visit to the consejo. My friend in the archaeology office told me that she no longer had the piece and she walked me over to another office and introduced me to a man who proceeded to go on and on about the proceso juridico. The piece was to be assigned a number which would be engraved on the bottom somewhere. This number would then be registered with Interpol, the United Nations and major dealers and museums around the world. That would take time, he told me. I indicated that I was not getting any younger thus wondered if I might have possession of it by the end of the year. He assured me that I would. That was last year.

I persisted as we often do. Several emails resulted in a letter from the Conservador in charge of CNPAG indicating that I needed to provide signed documents indicating that I would comply with all of their requirements such as never touching the piece with bare hands, making it available for expositions and research, not exposing it to direct light, etc., etc., etc. In addition, I had to indicate where and how it would be secured and displayed and where. And on and on and on. I had a door put on a living room cabinet with a lock on it and I contacted a woman known throughout the country for her work in restoration. At one time she worked in the archeology department of the consejo. She would make an iron stand that could be secured to the bottom of the cabinet.

One day early this year I received a call that a team would be coming from the consejo to view my plans for displaying and securing the vasija. Six or seven of them showed up with cameras, clipboards and more. Lucia came with her sketches of a couple of different possible iron stands. The group from the consejo decided which stand should be made and off they went with their cameras and clipboards. Lucia went to work on the stand in February and was given permission to visit the vasija in order to take measurements. Her work involved several trips back to the consejo before the stand was perfect.

The registration number is clearly visible on the bottom of the vasija and the stand not yet quite perfect..

Lucia and her team installed the stand in my house in July of this year. She sent a photo of the installed stand off to her contact at the consejo as did I and neither one of us has heard another word from the consejo despite have been assured that the vasija would be delivered once the stand was in place.

The empty vasija stand some eight years later.

We call, we write, we visit. Is it any wonder that rural farmers plow under priceless artifacts rather than subject themselves to this process? At this writing conversations with the consejo are being conducted by my lawyer in the hope that, somehow, she can move the process along. To be continued. I hope.