During my undergraduate years, I resided in the Pioneer Valley of Massachusetts. The Five College Consortium offered students a wide range of courses. 1 One of the first Latin American literature courses I took was in the sister institution next to my alma mater. I had never been exposed to Latin American literature in my high school, and was eager to immerse myself in the experience. The faculty member methodically discussed the different thematic and chronological components of the syllabus. We followed along, then, suddenly, he came to an abrupt halt for the section organized under Pre-Columbian Literature. “We’ll skip this segment,” he stated. Everything that is considered indigenous literature, he continued, was written under Christianity and in Latin letters. Although our immigrant experience played out in Los Angeles, my family never severed its ties to its Maya Ch’ort’i origins. The Ch’ort’i communities have historically shared the territories intersecting the geopolitical boundaries of Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras, referred to as el Trifinio. 2 The professor’s position ran counter to my understanding of literature because of all the stories I had learned growing up, including the various stories of Uncle Rabbit and Uncle Coyote, cadejos, and those of people who transform, the nahuales, which are also prevalent among other indigenous communities on the continent.