The Tunnels of the Americas

 [The late Andreas Faber Kaiser was an indefatigable traveler and explorer, an author of renown and editor of the prestigious Mundo Desconocido magazine in the 1970s and 1980s. His most important book is "Jesús Vivió y Murió en Cachemira" (Jesus Lived and Died in Kashmir) in which he interviews the alleged descendants of Christ.]

THE TUNNELS OF THE AMERICAS

By Andreas Faber-Kaiser

An unknown civilization constructed a habitable system of subterranean passages beneath the American landmass.

The Hopi Indians—settled in the U.S. state of Arizona, and who claim to originate from a lost continent once located in what is now the Pacific Ocean—recall that their ancestors were instructed and aided by beings who traveled in "flying shields," and who taught them the techniques for constructing tunnels and subterranean facilities. Many other indigenous legends and traditions throughout the American continent speak of the existence of communication networks and underground cities.

There exists a substantial body of literature—along with a sufficient number of researchers—supporting the hypothesis that intelligent beings, currently unknown to us, inhabit the regions beneath our planet's surface.

Various hypotheses exist regarding the possibility that intelligent entities originating from outside our planet maintain subterranean or underwater bases of operations here on Earth. I will not delve into an analysis of these possibilities here, as they constitute a separate subject of study deserving of its own dedicated examination. Consequently, I will not discuss organizations such as the Hollow Earth Society—which seeks to establish contact with the alleged inhabitants of the planet's interior—or SAMISDAT. The latter, for its part, fuels the speculation regarding the existence of an entire organization with Nazi ideology—naturally linked to the leadership figures of Nazi Germany—that supposedly survives beneath the Earth's crust, with access points to its world located specifically at the North Pole and within the Brazilian Amazon. I will not speak of such organizations, nor of others similar to them; nor will I delve into the subject of Shambhala or Agartha—purported concepts regarding what are said to be subterranean control centers located in the remote reaches of Central Asia—nor into that of the alleged "King of the World." For this is not the moment to either deny or confirm the validity of all these suppositions. On the day I deem it appropriate to speak of them, I shall do so with the utmost clarity possible.

In this article, I intend to focus on those locations within the American continent that hold the greatest potential for connecting with this intelligent subterranean world—a world that surfaces in numerous narratives of the indigenous peoples of North, Central, and South America, collected from the era of the Conquest right up to the present day. To lend some structure to the presentation of these sites—and given that the chronological dating of these alleged tunnels remains shrouded in uncertainty—I shall traverse the Americas in the pages that follow, beginning in the North and concluding—following a southward trajectory across the map—in northern Chile.

Let it be noted, before we descend, that more than one researcher asserts that the North Pole harbors warm lands and serves as the gateway to an inner world.

Mount Shasta

The Hopi people claim that their ancestors originated in lands that sank—in the distant past—beneath what is now the Pacific Ocean. Furthermore, they assert that those who aided them in their exodus toward the American continent were beings of human appearance who had mastered the arts of flight, as well as the construction of tunnels and subterranean facilities. Today, the Hopi people are settled in the state of Arizona, situated near the Pacific coast. Between their settlements and the coast lies the state of California. And at the northernmost extremity of that state stands a snow-capped, pristine white volcano known as Mount Shasta. Local Native American legends explain that hidden within lies an immense city serving as a refuge for a race of white men endowed with superior powers—survivors of an ancient culture that vanished beneath what is now the Pacific Ocean. The only alleged witness to have gained access to the city—Dr. Doreal—claimed in 1931 that the architectural style of its buildings reminded him of Mayan or Aztec structures.

The name "Shasta" derives neither from English nor from any Native American language or dialect. Rather, it is a Sanskrit term meaning "sage," "venerable," and "judge." Despite having no knowledge of Sanskrit, Native American traditions speak of the mountain's inhabitants as venerable beings dwelling within the "White Mountain," for it serves as a gateway to an inner world of millennial antiquity.

More recent reports from the inhabitants of the nearby logging community of Weed recount sporadic sightings of beings clad in white robes entering and exiting the mountain, only to vanish once again amidst a sudden bluish flash.

Accounts gathered from the Sioux and Apache tribes corroborate the beliefs held by the Hopi and other indigenous peoples of the region of Mount Shasta—the belief that dwelling beneath the American continent is a race of white-skinned beings,

survivors of a land that sank beneath the ocean. But much further north—in Alaska and in even more northerly regions—Eskimos and Native Americans speak time and again of a race of white men inhabiting the subterranean depths of their territories.

A City Beneath the Pyramid

Journeying southward, in the spring of 1977 in Mexico, I encountered the belief that beneath the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacán (the "City of the Gods"), hidden on the opposite side of the Earth's crust—that is to say, deep within the subsoil—lies a city where the "White God" is said to reside.

400 Pristine Buildings

If we now transport ourselves to the Yucatán Peninsula, we find at its northernmost tip—hidden within the dense jungle foliage—a city discovered in 1941. Spanning an area of ​​48 square kilometers, it preserves—in the silence of oblivion—more than 400 buildings that, in some remote era, knew great splendor. It was discovered by a group of boys who, while playing near a lagoon where they often went swimming, stumbled upon a wall of dressed stone hidden by the vegetation. As the Mexicans lacked sufficient resources to undertake the exploration of the site, they requested American assistance; consequently, two archaeologists specializing in Mayan culture—affiliated with the Middle American Research Institute at the University of New Orleans—arrived to assist. They, too, determined that the project of clearing and studying this enormous city exceeded their capabilities, necessitating the formation of a partnership with other institutions. However, the outbreak of war caused the project to be temporarily shelved. It was not until 1956 that the University of New Orleans—this time in association with the National Geographic Society and Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology—resumed investigations at the site. Andrews, the archaeologist leading the expedition, dedicated himself—while the team of workers began clearing the buildings—to gathering information from the indigenous people of the region. A shaman informed him that the city was named Dzibilchaltún—a word previously unknown in the local Mayan dialect—and that the lagoon was called Xlacah, a name that translates as "Old City."

The Swallowed City

Wishing to discover the origin of this name, the American archaeologist was told a legend that had been passed down among the indigenous people from generation to generation—a tale asserting that, at the bottom of the lagoon, there lay a portion of the city that also rose above the surface, within the jungle. According to the old shaman’s account, many centuries earlier, there stood within the city of Dzibilchaltún a magnificent palace that served as the residence of the *cacique*, or chieftain. One afternoon, an elderly stranger arrived at the site and requested lodging from the ruler. Although he displayed evident reluctance, the chieftain nevertheless ordered his slaves to prepare a chamber for the traveler. Meanwhile, the old man opened his travel pouch and drew from it an enormous green gemstone, which he presented to the sovereign as a token of gratitude for the hospitality. Astonished by this unexpected gift, the chieftain questioned his guest regarding the stone's place of origin. When the old man refused to answer, his host asked him if he carried any other gemstones in his pouch. And given that the interrogated man continued to maintain his silence, the sovereign flew into a rage and ordered his servants to execute the foreigner immediately. After the crime—which violated the sacred norms of hospitality—the chieftain himself searched his victim's pouch, assuming he would find more valuable objects inside. But, to his dismay, he found only some old clothes and a nondescript black stone. Filled with fury, the sovereign hurled the stone out of the palace. The moment it struck the ground, a formidable explosion erupted, and the earth immediately opened up, swallowing the building; the structure vanished beneath the waters of a well that had sprung forth at the exact spot where the stone had landed. The chieftain, his servants, and his family sank to the bottom of the lagoon and were never seen again. So ends the legend.

But let us continue with these ruins in northern Yucatán. The expedition eventually succeeded in clearing a pyramid that housed idols distinct from the customary representations of Mayan deities. Another nearby building would prove to be of far greater significance. It was a structure that differed completely from traditional Mayan styles, exhibiting architectural features never before seen in any of the known Mayan cities. Inside the temple—the entirety of which was adorned with representations of marine animals—Andrews discovered a secret sanctuary, walled off from the outside, within which stood an altar bearing seven idols depicting deformed beings—hybrids of fish and men. These beings were, therefore, similar to those who, in remote times, revealed inconceivable astronomical knowledge to the Dogon people of Central Africa, and to those described in Assyrian traditions when speaking of their deity, Oannes.

In 1961, Andrews returned to Dzibilchaltún, accompanied on this occasion by two experienced divers. Their mission was to complete—using superior equipment—the diving attempt undertaken in 1956 by David Conkle and W. Robbinet, who had reached a depth of 45 meters before abandoning their efforts due to the total absence of light. For this second attempt, the diving team consisted of the experienced archaeologist Marden—famous for having discovered the wreck of the *H.M.S. Bounty* (the ship of the great mutiny) in 1956—and B. Littlehales. After their initial soundings, it became clear to them that the lagoon was shaped roughly like a boot, extending underground to a point that the underwater archaeologists were unable to determine. Upon reaching the bottom of the vertical shaft, they noticed a rather steep incline leading toward the subterranean section of the well. And there, they encountered various fragments of carved columns as well as the remains of other structures. This appeared to confirm that the legend of the submerged palace was, in fact, grounded in a real historical event.

This site in the Yucatán bears striking similarities to the ruins of Nan Madol—the "dead city" of the Pacific Ocean—from which, it is claimed, the indigenous peoples of the Americas originally migrated. Preserved there, too, is an enigmatic city—abandoned and devoured by the jungle—at whose foot, in the depths of the sea, divers have likewise discovered columns and structures swallowed by the water.

**The Emperor of the Universe**

We now travel to the other coast of Mexico, slightly further south. In Jalisco—some 120 kilometers inland from Cape Corrientes—indigenous people tell of a hidden subterranean temple where, in times past, the "Emperor of the Universe" was venerated. They claim that, when the current evolutionary cycle concludes, the ancient, displaced people will return to govern the Earth once more in splendor. This assertion bears a direct relationship to the legacy enshrined within the passageways of Tayu Wari, deep within the Ecuadorian jungle.

**The Gold Plates of the Lacandones**

From here, we head south to the Mexican state of Chiapas, right along the border with Guatemala. Dwelling there are a distinct group of indigenous people—fair-skinned and unique—whose subterranean secrets had already piqued the interest of President Roosevelt himself back in March 1942. For the Lacandones recount—drawing upon the lore of their ancestors—that somewhere within the extensive network of underground tunnels crisscrossing their territory lies a secret cache of gold plates. Upon these plates, someone long ago inscribed the history of the world's ancient peoples, in addition to providing a precise description of what would eventually become the Second World War—a conflict that would embroil all the most powerful nations on Earth. This tale reached Roosevelt’s ears just a few months after the United States suffered the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. These gold plates, too, bear a close connection to those—which we shall encounter later—hidden within the aforementioned tunnels of Tayu Wari, in eastern Ecuador. 50 km of Tunnel

Let us proceed southward. The next step taken from Chiapas lands on Guatemalan soil. In the year 1689, the missionary Francisco Antonio Fuentes y Guzmán did not hesitate to provide a written description of the "marvelous structure of the tunnels of the town of Puchuta," which traverses the interior of the earth all the way to the town of Tecpán, in Guatemala—situated some 50 km from the starting point of the subterranean structure.

To Mexico in One Hour

In the late 1940s, a book appeared titled *Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas, and Yucatán*, written by the American lawyer John Lloyd Stephens, who had visited Guatemala on a diplomatic mission in the company of his friend, the artist Frederick Catherwood. There, in Santa Cruz del Quiché, an elderly Spanish priest recounted to him a visit he had made years earlier to an area situated on the other side of the mountain range—a four-day journey toward the Mexican border—which was inhabited by a tribe of indigenous people who still remained in the original state in which they had existed prior to the Conquest. In a press conference held in New York some time after the book's publication, Stephens added that, while gathering further information in the region, he had learned that these indigenous people had managed to survive in their original state thanks to the fact that—whenever foreign troops appeared—they would hide underground, in a subterranean world endowed with light, the secret of which had been bequeathed to them in ancient times by the gods who dwell beneath the earth. And he offered his own testimony of having begun to retrace a tunnel beneath one of the buildings in Santa Cruz del Quiché—a tunnel through which, in the opinion of the indigenous people, one could travel all the way to Mexico in just one hour in days of old.

The Temple of the Moon

In October 1985, I had the opportunity to gain access—together with Juan José Benítez, the Vílchez brothers, and my good friend Gretchen Andersen (who, incidentally, was born at the foot of Mount Shasta, where I began this article)—to a tunnel excavated beneath the grounds of a property situated in the mountains of Costa Rica. We ventured into a large cavity that opened onto an artificial tunnel, which descended almost vertically into the depths of the terrain. The locals—who had spent years clearing the tunnel of the earth and stones that had clogged it—recounted its history to us, asserting that at its far end lay the "Temple of the Moon": a sacred edifice, and one of several structures expressly built underground millennia ago by an unknown race—a race that, according to their records, had constructed an entire subterranean city comprising more than 500 buildings. The Secret Library

And much further south, in 1986, I ventured alone into the intricate jungle of the Ecuadorian Amazonian East—a journey that would lead me to the entrance of the tunnel system known as *Los Tayos* (or *Tayu Wari* in the language of the Jívaro people who guard it). It was there that the Hungarian ethnologist, explorer, adventurer, and miner Janos Moricz had—years earlier, and after searching the entire South American subcontinent—discovered a genuine library of metal plates. Engraved upon these plates, using signs and ideographic script, was a chronological account of the history of humanity, the origins of mankind on Earth, and the scientific knowledge of a vanished civilization.

The Underground Cities of the Gods

According to the testimonies I gathered, two main subterranean paths branched out from that point: one headed east toward the Amazon Basin in Brazilian territory, while the other headed south, running beneath the Peruvian soil all the way to Cusco, Lake Titicaca (on the border with Bolivia), and finally reaching the area adjacent to Arica, at the northernmost tip of Chile.

Furthermore—and in accordance with detailed information gathered in Brazil by the German journalist Karl Brugger (whose murder in the 1980s resulted in the disappearance of his research documents)—various cities were said to lie hidden within the dense foliage of the upper Amazon Basin. These cities were reportedly built by beings from outer space in remote epochs, and were said to connect to a system of thirteen other hidden cities located deep within the interior of the Andes mountain range.

 The Shelters of the Incas 

Drawing upon this body of knowledge, we have known since the era of the Conquest that the natives concealed their immense riches underground to prevent them from being plundered by Spanish troops. Everything seems to indicate that, to this end, they utilized subterranean systems that had existed long before—constructed by a civilization far predating the Incas—and to which some of them had access thanks to the legacy of their ancestors. Quite possibly, the Atacama Desert in Chile marks the terminus of this route, situated at its southern extremity.

Thus, regarding the end of this journey, we are speaking of the very region that the traditions of the Hopi Indians—mentioned at the beginning of this article (far to the north, in Arizona)—identify as the arrival point of their ancestors. This was the destination reached when—aided by beings who had mastered the secrets of both flight and the construction of tunnels and subterranean complexes—they were compelled to hastily abandon the lands they inhabited in what is now the Pacific Ocean.

However, the identification of the specific markers—which do exist—the proper deciphering of their corresponding keys—which are indeed present—as well as the decision to take the momentous step into the interior, remains—as is always the case for any sincere seeker—a task as demanding as it is deeply personal.

(Cr: Andreas Faber-Kaiser, "Los Túneles de las Américas")

Dark Neighborhood: The World of the Djinn

 

DARK NEIGHBORHOOD: THE WORLD OF THE DJINN

By Scott Corrales, Institute of Hispanic Ufology (IHU)

© 2007

The concept that "we are not alone" is of paramount importance to those interested in ufology and its allied disciplines, even if the company they expect to find resides on planets far removed from Earth—whether in other solar systems within the Milky Way or in other galaxies such as Andromeda. Amateurs and scholars of "nuts-and-bolts ufology"—as it is often called—have calculated the possible points of origin for the supposedly extraterrestrial phenomenon that visits us so assiduously; alternatively, they have envisioned a complete taxonomy of beings worthy of a George Lucas film—short Greys, tall Blondes, imposing Reptilians, and fearsome Insectoids—each the product of distinct celestial bodies.

However, since the earliest years of ufological inquiry, the possibility has been entertained that our visitors may not hail from such distant locales, but are instead beings who share this great blue planet with us. The writings of Robert Shaver suggested that a primordial race abandoned our world due to the harmful effects of solar radiation, leaving behind the negative and positive remnants of their species—the *deros* and *teros* of the Shaverian chronicles—who inhabit the intraterrestrial realm. More serious writers, such as Ivan T. Sanderson, wrote extensively about "uninvited guests" dwelling on the ocean floor who went to great lengths to avoid contact with *Homo sapiens*; other thinkers have situated our invisible neighbors in the most remote reaches of the Amazon or on the Tibetan Plateau. Yet, traditions of far greater antiquity suggest that we share our world with beings of terrestrial—albeit non-human—origin... beings regarded by the legal authorities of one-fifth of humanity as real entities that are, for the most part, inimical to human beings. Several prominent authors in the fields of ufology and the paranormal—such as Salvador Freixedo, Gordon Creighton, and John Keel—have made mention of them in their works: they are none other than the inexplicable Djinn.

“Made of Smokeless Fire”

Given the political climate currently affecting our world, it feels somewhat risky to quote passages from a religious text that many consider inimical to Western thought. The text in question is the Quran—the Muslim Bible, so to speak—which provides us with the earliest information we possess regarding these beings. They occupy an intermediate position within the divine work of creation—situated halfway between the angels (spiritual beings) and humanity (beings “of clay,” as our own religious texts remind us). The Djinn possess a nature distinct from both; for, as indicated in the Quranic chapter dedicated to these entities, they were created from smoke and fire.

To this day, Islamic scholars maintain the existence of these beings. And while devotees of Islam are forbidden from believing in ghosts or engaging in divinatory practices, belief in the Djinn is, in fact, a religious commandment.

The term "Djinn" appears 29 times in the Quran—not counting the *sura* (or chapter) titled "Surah Al-Djinn," which abounds with specific details regarding our hidden neighbors. These beings inhabit a world invisible to human eyes; they are capable of "eating, drinking, and procreating" just like humans, and—much like us—they come in both good and evil varieties (in this specific context, those Djinn who have embraced Islam are considered "good"). Although they are by no means immortal, they are credited with prodigious longevity; indeed, some scholars assert that there are Djinn alive today who were already living when Muhammad first began preaching in the deserts of the Arabian Peninsula. Another Quranic teaching states: "Verily, We created humanity from clay and soft mud, and the Djinn from smokeless fire." (Qur. 15:26-27). The scholar Ibn Abbas states that two millennia before the creation of Adam and Eve, the Djinn already inhabited our planet, although their tenancy was characterized by corruption and warfare. Regiments of angels sent by Allah battled against these beings made of fire, vanquishing them and banishing them to certain islands. Unlike the Judeo-Christian tradition, it was not until that moment that the Creator decided to undertake the creation of the human race.

For reasons left unexplained, these invisible and intelligent beings can only manifest themselves to us by assuming repulsive forms—specifically snakes and black dogs, much like the Black Shuck of the British Isles—though, as we shall see later, they are also capable of mimicking humans. Muhammad established the existence of three classes of Djinn: those that move through the air; those that manifest as snakes and dogs; and those that exist in a specific location but possess the gift of traveling from one place to another.

Concern regarding these beings who share our world persists to this day, with websites posting legal opinions (fatwas) from various Quranic scholars regarding inquiries related to the Djinn. It comes as no surprise that one of the most frequently asked questions concerns the possibility of humans marrying these beings and having offspring. A strange preoccupation—though perhaps not so strange if we examine the following cases.

 

Forbidden Loves

During one of his television appearances in the United States in the 1990s (*El Show de Cristina*, 1991), the thinker and parapsychologist Salvador Freixedo posited that the interest in "the generational, the generative, and the genital"—an interest that emerged from the phenomenon of alleged extraterrestrial abductions at the time—bore a close relationship to historical accounts of other beings who have engaged intimately with humans—at least within the realm of myth and legend—such as sylphs, undines, nymphs, and other creatures known by various names in legends across the globe.

In early 2007, paranormal researcher and author Brad Steiger returned with a new book, *Shadow World: True Encounters With Beings from the Darkside* (San Antonio, TX: Anomalist Press, 2007), in which he revisited previously unpublished cases involving clearly extra-human beings seeking emotional and physical union with humans. One of the most intriguing cases Steiger recounts in his work is that of Kent Grondhal, a young American of Scandinavian descent who was attending the University of Iowa when he decided to hop in his car for a drive through the countryside, hoping that the scenery—endless cornfields and small villages—might help take his mind off his academic worries. Before long, he passed through a tiny hamlet comprising just a few houses, a general store, and a gas station—a place where a traditional Swedish dance festival happened to be taking place.

Immensely proud of his cultural heritage, young Grondhal decided to park his vehicle and join in the festivities. But just as he was about to do so, a hulking man with intimidating blue eyes blocked his path—apparently intent on landing a punch for no reason whatsoever. At that moment, another man—tall and smiling—stepped in and introduced himself as Erik Hagen. When Grondhal introduced himself in turn, Hagen immediately asked if his family hailed from a certain specific place; upon receiving an affirmative answer, he embraced Kent as if he were a long-lost relative. The student then went on to meet the other partygoers. “They spoke with such a thick Scandinavian accent,” Grondhal noted, “that it was as if they had just arrived straight from Sweden itself.”

It wasn't long before the student’s gaze settled upon Kari Rogeness, a charming blonde who claimed to live right there in the village—whereas the others had merely gathered for an annual reunion. Although the young woman had initially seemed receptive to his interest, as the hours wore on, she began to grow somewhat reticent—especially whenever Grondhal asked if it might be possible to see her again. At the end of the evening, the student returned to the university with the image of Kari etched in his mind. He immediately looked up her name in the phone book—but found nothing. No one by that name existed.

Days later, upon entering a restaurant, he ran into Erik Hagen and his entire entourage—the very same guests from the countryside party. Kari Rogeness, however, was conspicuously absent. Hagen approached the student to tell him that, much as his friends had taken a liking to him, he needed to put Kari out of his mind completely, as any future together was simply out of the question. “We are connected to you people—but not in the way you understand it,” the smiling Hagen told him. “There are some among us who harbor resentment toward your kind because we were here first, and at times we feel supplanted by you. But listen to me, young Grondhal, for we hold sincere affection for you. We ask that you stop searching for Kari. What you hope for can never come to pass.”

As described by Steiger, the student was about to reply when the waitress informed him that his order was ready. In the brief seconds he was distracted attending to her, Hagen and his entourage had already exited through the door. When he attempted to follow them, he could see no sign of them anywhere.

“Three years later, during a visit to New York to see a friend,” the author writes, “Kent Grondhal is certain he saw Kari Rogness and Erik Hagen walking through Times Square while he was riding in a taxi.” When he caught their attention from the window, the pair stared back at him before disappearing into the lobby of a movie theater. “I cannot help but wonder how many Eriks and Karis—and other ‘relatives’ of ours—wander among us, blending into the crowd, concealing their true identities and purposes.”

Thus concludes the story of the young student, as shared with us by Brad Steiger.

The simplest answer is always the correct one. Young Kari felt pestered by Grondhal’s attention and did everything in her power to avoid him. Erik Hagen—her kinsman, guardian, or lover—politely asked the student to keep his distance. Case closed. Nevertheless—if the words spoken by Hagen in the restaurant constitute a faithful quotation—we are faced with a curious instance: “There are some among us who harbor a grudge against your kind because we were here first, and at times we feel supplanted by you.” This sounds like a characterization of the condition of the Djinn, in accordance with the views expressed by Ibn Abbas.

Islamic authorities acknowledge the possibility of unions between humans and Djinn, though they deem such unions undesirable; furthermore, they note that the legal compendium (Sharia) offers no irrefutable statutes on the subject, leading some to opine that a union between humans and Djinn would be lawful, while others maintain the contrary. One of the voices raised against such unions is that of Al-Khateeb Al-Shirbini, who posits that there are two classes of marital restrictions: perpetual and non-perpetual. Matrimony between humans and Djinn falls under the category of perpetual restrictions. Ibn Abidin, a Hanafi scholar, points out that marital restrictions are specific in nature, and that a man may not unite himself with another man, with a hermaphrodite, with a polytheistic woman, with a close female relative... or with a female Djinn.

Other jurists are not quite so categorical. Al-Hasan Al-Basri maintained that a union between humans and Djinn was lawful, “provided that there were witnesses” to the event. Imam Al-Suyuti, citing earlier authorities, affirmed the validity of marriage between our own species and that of our enigmatic neighbors. Let us examine what Ibn-Unus states in his treatise, *Sharh Al-Wajeiz*: “If such a union were deemed licit, would the man possess the authority to compel his Djinn wife to remain within the home? (bearing in mind that the Djinn are known to have a propensity for traveling vast distances). Let us suppose the man finds it distasteful to see his wife in any form other than the human one; would this grant him the right to forbid her from manifesting in other guises? Furthermore, would the standard conditions required for any other marital contract be fulfilled? For instance, is the approval of the prospective wife’s Djinn guardian a prerequisite? Would their marriage be considered valid under the laws of the Djinn? Suppose the husband observes his wife having assumed a form distinct from the one he recognizes, yet she insists upon her identity; would he be capable of believing her and engaging in conjugal relations with her? Would he be obligated to provide her with the sustenance consumed by the Djinn—such as bones and similar items?”

Debates concerning this subject—specifically, carnal relations between our own species and beings that, to the Western world, “do not exist”—are extensive and wide-ranging within Islamic jurisprudence, with arguments advanced both for and against. The ultimate consensus appears to be that marriage between a human male and a female Djinn is frowned upon for the following reason: the possibility—however remote (given that such a union is generally considered to be sterile)—of producing offspring that is half-human and half-Djinn. “A group of Yemenis once wrote to Imam Malik, stating: ‘A male Djinn has appeared before us seeking to take a young human woman as his wife, claiming that his intention in this matter is to follow the path of the righteous.’ Imam Malik replied: ‘I perceive nothing inherently wrong with this; however, I am concerned about exposing this woman to a situation in which she might be asked about her husband and be compelled to answer that he is a male Djinn. Such a circumstance could lead to moral corruption among the Muslim community.’” It would be interesting to draft a letter to these scholars of Islam and ask for their opinion regarding the alleged hybridization between humans—allegedly “abducted by UFOs”—and the large-headed beings who crew them...

Do They Want to Be Like Us?

One of the most intriguing cases involving clearly non-human beings—yet ones that adopt the form of our own species for unknown purposes—is also associated with manifestations of the extremely rare Men in Black (MIB), who, at one time, occupied a distinct category of study within the field of ufology. Most people interested in this phenomenon will recall that one of the best-documented cases of this type occurred in 1976, when American psychiatrist Herbert Hopkins received a visit from a mysterious figure dressed in a black suit and wearing a derby hat. The enigmatic visitor’s face was covered in white makeup, and he wore lipstick on his lips. The figure asked several questions regarding a UFO case the professional was investigating (the Stephens case, Maine, 1975) and then proceeded to make a penny vanish from the open palm of a stunned Hopkins, causing it to completely dematerialize. The stranger warned him: “Neither you nor anyone else on this plane—not planet—will ever see that coin again.”

Well then: on September 24, 1976—following this unsettling visit from the Man in Black—an equally unsettling couple appeared at the home of John and Maureen Hopkins—the son and daughter-in-law of the psychologist investigating the UFO case. The physical description of both individuals, combined with their utter and complete ignorance of American society at the time, led the young Hopkins couple to suspect that there was something strange about their visitors. The man wore clothing seemingly plucked straight out of a 1950s catalog—though the garments themselves were perfectly new, practically brand-new (similar details appear in other cases involving Men in Black). The woman was even more striking due to her bizarre physical build—a distended abdomen and breasts that appeared to protrude directly from her ribs—and the way she wobbled as she walked, as if her legs did not fit correctly into her pelvis. The exchanges between these two figures resembled a painfully memorized script rather than the sort of conversation one would expect from a couple.

John Hopkins answered a few questions regarding his father, the UFO case in question, and other matters. However, the strange man seemed far more interested in other topics: “The man and his female companion were taken aback when John explained that he and his wife carried out most of their activities together. While asking questions, the man groped his companion, asking John if he was doing it correctly” (Schwarz, p. 248). Shortly thereafter, the visitor began pestering Maureen with indiscreet questions, inquiring about “her body’s physical contours” and asking if she had any nude photographs of herself she could show him. After a while, the female declared that it was time to leave, and something even stranger occurred: “Her companion stood up, yet made no move to head for the exit. The woman told him several times that she wanted to go, finally pleading with John Hopkins: ‘Would you be so kind as to move him? I cannot do it myself’—as if she were incapable of, or simply did not know how to, walk around her motionless partner to reach the door.

The rational explanation for this curious event from thirty years ago is perfectly reasonable. In rural areas of North America—as in any other part of the world—tragic cases of mental impairment and physical abnormalities occur due to poor nutrition or incest. Living in isolated communities—almost invariably under the sway of a self-proclaimed preacher—there are individuals who remain completely oblivious to the era in which they live or to customary social norms. It is entirely plausible that “Bill Post” (the name given by the strange man) and his companion belonged to one of these groups.

Nevertheless, the possibility that they were, in fact, intelligent creatures merely mimicking human beings remains deeply unsettling. “Bill Post’s” interest in viewing photographs of the young Mrs. Hopkins in the nude—along with his earlier groping of his own companion—underscores these beings’ determination to pass themselves off as humans by slavishly copying the details of intimate behavior, which they find utterly fascinating. The fact that the companion of “Mr. ...[if the] "Post" did not know how to walk around—this strange immobility also suggests a lack of familiarity with the human body, as if these were human beings attempting to walk while clad in medieval armor.

Strange Yankees from the forests of New England, or creatures fascinated by the "generational, genitive, and genital" aspects noted by Freixedo? We leave the decision to the reader.

Animals and Technology of the Djinn

Islamic literature indicates that the Djinn possess animals, and that it is permissible to feed them both human and animal excrement (with the consequent prohibition against humans consuming excrement—as if such a prohibition were even necessary). However, descriptions of these beings are lacking, and scholars simply offer the explanation that "such is the will of Allah."

It falls to us to speculate on whether the creatures with glowing eyes reported in cryptozoology—certain Bigfoot-like species, the Chupacabras, monstrous birds, etc.—might correspond to these animals of the Djinn. This is despite the fact that we have observed them feeding on blood and carrion rather than fecal matter—though, then again, who really knows? Psychologist Berthold Schwarz, a scholar of the UFO phenomenon from a psychiatric perspective, noted in his analysis of a UFO sighting and encounter with hairy beings in Greensburg, Pennsylvania (USA) in 1973, that the beings' intense red eyes—one adult specimen and one apparently juvenile one which, judging by the sketches produced by witnesses, bore a greater resemblance to a werewolf than to the ape-like creatures associated with Bigfoot—"suggested the possibility that their origin lay in a world of total darkness." (Schwarz, Berthold E., *UFO Dynamics*. Moore Haven, Florida: Rainbow Books, 1983). Could this world of darkness—which has figured so prominently in Western religions—be the reality assigned to the Djinn? If so, it is hardly surprising that they might wish to visit ours from time to time.

Contemporary scholars have taken an interest in the potential technology available within the obscure realm of the Djinn. Charles Upton, author of *The System of Antichrist* (NY: Sophia Perennis, 2001), addresses an aspect that some might consider delusional—or, at the very least, worthy of a *Conan the Barbarian* novel: the possibility that the Djinn possess technology, whether of their own devising or stolen from humans.

 Before turning to Upton’s thoughts on the matter, it is worth noting that others have briefly speculated along these lines—perhaps inspired by medieval engravings depicting "Hell" in all its terror, teeming with demons tormenting the impious with a variety of implements: torture wheels, long needles, hooks, and other objects whose precise functions remain unclear. The logical assumption, of course, would be that the medieval or Renaissance artist simply placed into the hands of the underworld’s masters the very same tools available to any torturer of the Holy Brotherhood...

Upton, however, argues to the contrary, drawing upon the writings of the Orthodox priest Seraphim Rose—who passed away in 1982—and who asserted that the UFO phenomenon, for instance, was nothing more than "demons doing what demons have always done." Their craft, he argued, are the product of a "demonic" technology that originates in the subtle realm yet impacts the physical realm: "It is clear that the manifestations of today’s flying saucers fall squarely within the scope of the technology available to demons. Indeed, there is no other explanation that accounts for them so effectively." “The manifold demonic deceptions appearing in the literature of the [Orthodox Church] have been adapted into the myth of the spatial—and nothing more.” (Upton, p. 334, citing Rose). The late Orthodox priest maintained that UFOs are “both physical craft and psychic devices.”

Upton links the Orthodox priest’s assertions to his own research on the Djinn: “[...] And this aligns precisely with folklore regarding the Djinn throughout the world: they are capable of affecting the physical plane, yet incapable of maintaining a stable presence within it. I sometimes wonder whether our computer technology—which has always struck me as being, to some extent, inspired by the Djinn—might represent a means for them to construct vehicles for themselves that are stable within our world, given the fact that the Djinn and UFOs appear capable of interacting with electromagnetic energy.”

Is Upton, then, an adherent of the 19th-century “Luddites” who advocated for the destruction of the Industrial Revolution’s infernal machinery? His words seem to suggest as much; yet he would be neither the first nor the only person to suspect that the digital realm—epitomized by the World Wide Web, the Internet—has acquired an intelligence of its own, or has fallen under the control of some extra-human agency. In 1997, researcher Steve Mizrach addressed this very subject in his paper “Ghost in the Machine: Haitian Voudoun and the Matrix” (Crash Collusion No. 8, Austin, TX), noting that the new generation of programmers was awestruck by the algorithms they employed to write their code—algorithms that “seemed to possess a life of their own, owing to their unexpected, emergent properties and their reactions to external stimuli... Indeed, many robotics technicians are frequently baffled by the almost ‘lifelike’ responses of their creations—responses that resemble animal or human reactions rather than those strictly dictated by their control algorithms.” Terence Sejnowski, a neuroscientist at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute, does not rule out the possibility that the Internet may have acquired a consciousness of its own (The World Question Center, http://www.edge.org/q2006/q06_8.html). However, this takes us too far afield from the question of the Djinn and their technology.

During the 1960s and 70s, cases occurred that were largely overlooked because they lacked the dramatic elements prescribed by ufology—specifically, the sighting or landing of a craft, the pursuit of a witness by non-humans, and the subsequent harassment of that witness by the military. These cases, which bordered on the "Fortean," included accounts of flying saucers stealing computer technology from Honeywell warehouses and other computer manufacturing plants of that era. Other witnesses, having been taken aboard these saucers, would later claim to have observed human technology inside the craft. Were these technical components stolen by the Djinn, or were they the result of efforts by the military or political establishment to confuse witnesses of the anomalous?

If we entertain the possibility that the Djinn either construct their own machinery or steal ours, might this serve to explain the still-unsolved case files regarding the "phantom airships" that caused such a sensation between 1896 and 1897? Or the phantom aircraft and rockets sighted across Scandinavia in 1946? During the wave of phantom airship sightings, it appeared as though pseudo-humans were amusing themselves by mimicking humanity’s clumsy attempts to realize the long-cherished dream of flight. The case files range from enormous airships worthy of Robur the Conqueror to aircraft that flapped their wings in flight (according to John Keel). As soon as the Wright Brothers, Santos-Dumont, and Blériot achieved their breakthroughs, these flying contraptions ceased to appear.

Saucer Abductions and the Djinn

This brings us to the point we wished to address. We are entirely at liberty to consider the phenomenon of abductions—perpetrated by beings hailing from UFOs or other realities—as either a genuinely unsettling reality or one of the most striking instances of mass psychosis in human history. Some writers and researchers have attempted to examine this subject in depth, asking themselves whether a truly alien and super-advanced civilization would actually resort to the methods of study (or hybridization) employed by the alleged "Greys," "Blonds," and "Reptilians" that feature in contemporary accounts. One would expect a super-civilization to manipulate genetics with far greater ease than our own, without the subject of the experiment ever becoming aware of what had transpired. Yet, despite the displays of technology (or pseudo-technology) that these abductors reveal to their victims, their methods remain primitive, invasive, and even sadistic.

For our 21st-century civilization—immersed in digital technology, deriving pleasure from Nintendo consoles and the passive consumption of television programs—it is far easier to believe in technically advanced visitors from another planet than in creatures whose existence we know primarily through *The Thousand and One Nights*, even though virtually every culture speaks of this other order of beings. The obsession with interbreeding with human beings is a theme that surfaces even in our works of fantasy. A classic example is the wizard Merlin (Myrddin) of Celtic tradition, the son of a mortal woman and a being who, "though not evil, was far from good"—a description that fits the *Djinn* perfectly. We have seen that the Muslim tradition holds that Djinn are capable of easily changing their appearance, assuming forms that are either pleasing or repulsive, depending on their needs. This gift of mutability would seem to correspond to the "Grays" who have become part of the UFO establishment. In many cases, witnesses claim to have copulated with males or females deemed highly attractive by human standards of beauty—only for these figures to ultimately reveal themselves as macrocephalic dwarfs (one of whom, according to a single abductee, was wearing a black wig). This gift—attributed to the Djinn and various other beings in human mythology—has, inevitably, been "technologized" and described as a "screen memory" that the Grays can superimpose over an abductee's actual recollections.

Abductees also claim—sometimes under hypnosis, other times while fully conscious—to have witnessed the fruit of this interspecies mingling: beings that are half-human, half-"Gray"—frail and sickly creatures. At times, they describe more developed entities: beings possessing distinctively human features, yet bearing the enormous black eyes characteristic of their extra-human lineage. Other abductees speak at length of assistants who appear to be one hundred percent human, working side by side with the Grays. Are these individuals part of a human "fifth column" aiding the extra-humans, or are they simply beings who have assumed a pleasing guise in order to put us at ease?

“In recent times, some abductees have recounted visits to a chamber filled with fetuses floating in tanks, or have reported being handed hybrid infants or children with whom they are expected to play or interact. If the witness is transported by these beings, their destination is otherworldly—though not necessarily another planet. A brief journey carries the craft and its crew into a subterranean or submarine environment: an 'intraterrestrial' realm of great beauty, yet devoid of sunlight; or a uniformly illuminated sky [...] often dark and desolate, bearing signs of ruin and destruction.” (Bullard, Thos. “Abductions.” *The Encyclopedia of Extraterrestrial Encounters*, Ed. Ronald Story. New York: 2001, p. 6). The elves or sprites described by the Reverend Kirk in his work *The Secret Commonwealth* claimed to be capable of destroying humanity with a single stroke, yet they refrained from doing so “because they awaited Salvation.” A thoroughly Christian sentiment, naturally. However, they could attain this salvation or redemption only through humans—by merging with us to acquire that which religious believers have termed “the soul”—a concept that would undoubtedly elicit a scornful smile from the lips of skeptics. If we accept as true the premise that alleged abductees have indeed witnessed and experienced everything they have recounted to us, may we then surmise that—despite the frailty of the resulting offspring and the intensive care they require—they now possess a soul?

On the other hand, it is certainly intriguing that ufologists have interpreted this amalgamation of species as something positive. At the Human Potential Foundation conference held in Washington, D.C., in 1993—the theme of which was “The Encounter Between Cosmic Cultures”—a former legal advisor to the National Research Council classified the hybrids of Grays and humans as “the next species: *Homo alterios spatialis*.”

Many abductees insist that they have witnessed images of humanity’s future on a planet utterly devastated by environmental crises, pollution, or impacts from extraterrestrial bodies. These terrifying scenes have been projected directly into the abductees' minds, or have formed part of a kind of “theatrical performance” in which many abductees gaze intently at what appears to be a screen displaying the future. The only ones capable of surviving in this apocalyptic world will be the hybrids of humans and Grays—beings perfectly acclimated to this terrible “new world.”

 Charles Upton offers us a frankly terrifying possibility—one, however, that will likely only convince the religiously minded: “But if they are so intent on mesmerizing poor mortals with their superior powers, to what can we attribute their apparent envy of our capacity to inhabit physical bodies? Could it be that they are fully aware—even if we ourselves have forgotten it—that the human form is the image of God, and that, consequently, they do everything in their power to supplant it—primarily by tempting us to deconstruct it, both physically and psychologically? If they—for all their gifts—seem to desire to become human, even as they seek to make us more like themselves, what does this reveal about their own self-assessment of their condition? Perhaps they are simply attempting to avoid Hell.” (Upton, *System of Antichrist*, p. 338).

In Summary

All of us living today—with a few exceptions—are products of cinema, television, and fantasy and science fiction literature. We feel no hesitation whatsoever in describing a device or situation as “worthy of *Star Trek* or *Star Wars*.” Our primary frame of reference is technology—ranging from the very first handheld calculator to the brand-new iPod® from Apple. If we spot a strange light in the sky, or a disc-shaped craft in the middle of a meadow, we do not hesitate to place it within a technological context—in this case, as a spacecraft hailing from any of the planets, civilizations, or galaxies that our reading and movie-going experiences have conjured in our minds. Indeed, it is far more plausible and culturally acceptable to speak of aliens, extraterrestrials, and the like than of elves, dDjinn, sylphs, and undines—despite the existence of millennia-old traditions concerning these beings and their relationship with our own species.

It is considered perfectly reasonable to imagine that an extra-planetary culture dispatches its ships to abduct men and women—to harvest their reproductive material against their will for the sake of humanity’s future; to save another species that has lost its reproductive capacity; because the members of said species are, in reality, the "Watchers" of the Old Testament; or because their mission is to preserve life across all inhabited planets. Yet, to consider that these beings might actually be the neighbors we have always had—beings that inhabited our world long before the emergence of humanity and that will likely remain here long after our extinction—is deemed preposterous... or, at least, that is what we are told.

Salvador Freixedo: Julio and the Magic Box

 

Salvador Freixedo: Julio and the Magic Box

I will recount this case exactly as the witness himself told it to me—a witness who granted me permission to do so only after much hesitation, and under the strict condition that I omit any details that might lead to his identification.

Some years ago, incidents such as this one tended to undermine the credibility of the UFO phenomenon and discouraged researchers who considered themselves "scientists." Today, however—after thirty long years—the most astute researchers, and to some extent the general public, are far more prepared to accept this paranormal aspect of the phenomenon. They are likewise becoming increasingly convinced of its many paraphysical aspects—facets that so deeply intrigue, and even exasperate, those versed in the physical sciences.

I shall therefore omit names and locations, just as requested by the contact—a man who has already suffered enough from having been a silent witness, for so many years, to events so mind-boggling and "impossible."

A little over forty-five years ago—when our witness (whom we shall henceforth call Julio) was less than ten years old—he looked up to see something hovering directly above him. This occurred in a region that has long been a hotspot for UFO activity; the object floated in the air at an altitude of roughly twenty meters. Naturally, he had no idea what the object was, for he had never in his life heard of such a thing; yet his innocence as a country boy, combined with the natural curiosity of his age, compelled him to investigate and discover what this strange object floating in the air might be.

Instead of fleeing in fear, he devoted himself to observing it. After a short while, he felt himself being lifted upward; moments later, he found himself inside a circular chamber filled with a light "unlike that of the Sun," and surrounded by objects and devices that were not merely unfamiliar to him, but utterly unlike anything he had ever seen before. He had not yet recovered from his astonishment when he saw a little girl, about six years old, approaching him with a broad smile and a playful air; indeed, she immediately began showing him all the toys she kept in that peculiar house.

Julio observed everything with rapt attention; and although he realized he was witnessing things that bore no resemblance to anything he had ever seen before—whether in his parents' humble home or anywhere else—he felt no fear, but rather a genuine interest in everything being shown to him. The girl continued displaying her toys until she came to one that would prove to be the central object of this case.

The toy was a small box, measuring approximately 20 x 20 x 10 cm, with nothing on its exterior to hint at its immense potential. The girl would place her small hands upon it, and instantly, a sort of vapor—composed of countless tiny lights—would begin to form atop the box, spinning at dizzying speed until, almost abruptly, a small humanoid creature would materialize before them. It stood about a meter tall and possessed an intelligence comparable to that of a monkey. It did not speak, and it appeared utterly bewildered by the place in which it suddenly found itself—as if it had been brought there against its will.

The girl was able to summon as many creatures from the box as she pleased—all resembling the first—and every one of them obeyed her without a murmur, even when she sent them back inside, making them vanish into the box in the same mysterious manner in which she had conjured them. First, she would transform them into that vaporous substance, which would then suddenly rush inward through a narrow slit. I say she made them vanish *inside* the box because, evidently, the creatures could not possibly have fit within it—not even a single one of them. It gave, rather, the distinct impression that they were dematerializing.

Julio spent a considerable amount of time inside, chatting with the girl and marveling at the many things she showed him, until at last, the time came for him to leave. Then the girl asked him if he wanted to keep the box, for he had shown such great enthusiasm as he watched her pull those little "figures" out of it with such ease. Without giving it much thought, he said yes, and she handed it over to him.

They lowered him down in the very same way they had hoisted him up, and—lo and behold—Julio found himself the possessor of something that, from that moment on, would become the very center and preoccupation of his entire life.

Naturally, he guarded his mysterious box with great zeal—going so far as to hide it from overly prying eyes—yet he did not make of it an inviolable secret. He took great delight in secretly showing it to his little friends; he recalls staging a sort of miniature circus (for which he charged an admission fee of one cent) wherein he would draw one of those creatures out of the box, to the utter astonishment of his young schoolmates. Grown-ups never attended these boyish "fantasies," and in doing so, they mirrored on a small scale exactly what society does on a large one: if any of their children happened to tell them what they had seen, they simply dismissed it as "childish imagination." Although it is also true that Julio never...

...no "little figures" ever appeared whenever an adult was present. This contributed to the notion that it was all just "kids' stuff."

But then, something unexpected happened. The girl had clearly explained to Julio exactly how to go about getting the "little figures" back inside the box; yet Julio, despite his best efforts, simply could not manage it. As soon as the creatures recovered from their initial astonishment, they would linger beside the box for a while—as if awaiting Julio’s orders—though they displayed signs of extreme nervousness. Later, when he attempted to put them back inside and failed, they would suddenly dart away at dizzying speed, vanishing into the undergrowth.

These creatures soon became a heavy burden for Julio; far from disappearing, they began to pester him and make his life miserable. To begin with, whenever he used the laying-on of hands to summon them forth from the box, they did not emerge as easily or naturally as they did for the girl. On the contrary, when they materialized before his eyes, they appeared utterly vexed—as if they had been forcibly dragged there from somewhere else—and would begin glancing frantically in every direction, displaying signs of acute agitation as they sought an escape route. Indeed, they would flee within a matter of seconds, moving with electric speed, never allowing anyone to catch or even touch them. In fact, they seemed hostile toward people—though adults, for some reason, appeared unable to see them at all.

Children and animals—dogs in particular—however, saw them quite clearly and would flee from them at full speed.

After some time, these creatures began to venture closer to Julio’s house, and soon they were prowling the grounds at all hours of the day and night. Occasionally, they would approach him—he being the only person they ever treated this way—and would even go so far as to touch him, displaying very little respect for him; they even dared to play crude, tasteless pranks on him. For years, whenever Julio wandered across the countryside, they accompanied him—though always at a certain distance. People could not see them, but—as I mentioned—animals could; they would flee immediately whenever *they* drew near, displaying signs of great fear or agitation.

Julio did not know what to do; over the years, this situation has become an ordeal for him—one could even say it has fatefully marked his entire life.

Nowadays, he no longer carries the box with him; he threw it into the sea, weighted down with a stone, far from the shore. It seems that the box itself was what attracted the creatures, and indeed, they have not visited him for quite some time now.

At one point during our long conversation—though I have visited him several times since then—Julio said to me in a sorrowful tone: "Believe me, all I want is to die." When I asked him why, he replied—still speaking with the heavy air of a man bearing a great burden or deep anxiety: "I don't want to see any more strange things. All I want is to rest."

All of this left me with many unanswered questions. In truth, I got the impression that he still had more to tell me—things he was holding back—and that these unspoken matters were the very source of his profound weariness with life.

He links these creatures to various misfortunes that have befallen the region, believing them capable of inflicting great harm—and that, in fact, they do so from time to time. Apparently, they currently prowl near a specific spot in the mountains—the very place where he once kept the box hidden—and it has become dangerous for people to venture into that area. He specifically cited several deaths that he believed had been caused by them.

Although it has been many years since he released the last creature from the box, he still appears troubled and weighed down by the burden of the more than one hundred creatures he *did* release—beings that now pose a potential threat to the public. It seemed to me that he felt guilty for having brought them into this world, for it is evident that these creatures are forced to come to a place where they feel out of their element—wandering like lost souls, unable to find a way back to their own world—while he, too, remains powerless to help.

These are not Julio’s only adventures as a "contactee" from the beyond. Aside from these mysterious beings, Julio has, on several occasions, come into contact with spacecraft from other worlds and with their crews. But above all, he shared with me something of great interest to the general theme of this book—something that will resurface in later chapters.

For those unfamiliar with the subject, and for the inveterate skeptics, this is something that serves to undermine the credibility of the entire affair; yet for those of us who have been immersed in this field for years, it is something that—on the contrary—only serves to bolster it.

Julio confided in me, with great discretion, that on two separate occasions he was compelled to engage in sexual acts with strange women—beings who, though bearing a striking resemblance to human females, were nonetheless not *exactly* like them. One of these incidents, which took place atop a mountain, bears some resemblance to the classic case of Vilas Boas in Brazil, although in Julio’s case, everything took place outside the UFO rather than inside it.

The reader might assume that all of this is mere fantasy; however, Julio has witnesses—if not to prove that every detail of his account is absolutely true, then at least to attest that UFOs do indeed pass just a few meters above his roof exactly when he predicts they will, along with other strange occurrences. His wife and two of his daughters confirmed this to me, describing the object that drifted past—seemingly in slow motion—just a few meters above their rooftop. Other neighbors can attest to the same.

As for the "little figures" in the box, there are still a few people in their sixties who remember them. Two years after Julio first confided these details to me, I consulted my notebook, where I had jotted down the specific information he had provided. There, I found the name of one of his childhood friends—someone who had witnessed, on several occasions, Julio pulling those creatures out of the box. Julio knew that this friend lived in a specific neighborhood of a city some sixty kilometers away, and he gave me a concrete detail that would allow me to track him down. He told me that he had lost all contact with this person many years earlier, but I decided to seek him out anyway, hoping to corroborate this bizarre story.

It took me nearly a full day to track him down, but I finally found him. I spoke to him about his childhood, his hometown, and Julio. The moment I mentioned Julio’s name and asked if he remembered the "circus act" he used to put on, the man smiled; shaking his head with a gesture of sheer disbelief, he declared emphatically:

"That bastard—I have no idea how he did it."

"But what exactly did he do?" I asked.

"He had a shoebox, and out of it, he’d pull these little monkeys. The first time I saw them right there in front of me—begging your pardon—I wet my pants."

"And do you remember what they looked like?"

"Look, I was just a little kid back then." And so, I left that town very soon after. That was about fifty years ago, and I barely remember it now. What I *do* remember is that I saw them on only two occasions, and they terrified me so much that at night I would dream about them, wake up crying, and run straight to my parents' bed. Since this happened several times, they forbade me from hanging out with Julio.

"But what were those monkeys like?" I insisted.

"I don't remember very well. I hardly dared to look at them. They were as tall as I was and hideous, with pointed ears. And they moved at such a speed that sometimes they would vanish from sight. It was as if they were electric."

"And what became of them?"

"Well, I couldn't tell you."

"And how could you pull them out of a shoebox if they were as tall as you?"

"I asked myself that very question many times later on. Back then, I was so small that I didn't question it—aside from the sheer terror they inspired in me. On the other hand, there were some older boys who would tell me to 'bring out more.' Though, apparently, what I was doing didn't seem strange to them either."

I was barely able to get any more details out of him. But what he did tell me was enough to convince me that the things Julio had recounted to me were not merely figments of his imagination.

Subsequently—after having written the preceding lines, and while in the very same country where Julio resides—I established direct and frequent contact with an individual: a dedicated researcher of these phenomena. He has corroborated, in minute detail, many of the things Julio told me—with the remarkable distinction that this individual does not know Julio, nor does he have any prior knowledge of the events that befell him. This individual—whose home is quite isolated, nestled in the mountains—has on numerous occasions sighted strange beings that, broadly speaking, match Julio's descriptions. Moreover, he has not merely *seen* them; he has actually begun to establish a rapport with them—despite my having warned him that, in the long run, it is dangerous for humans to associate with such creatures Since writing these lines, I have re-established contact with that person—specifically to find out how things were going in his relationship with those creatures. He told me that he had to move out of that house because, whenever he was alone in it, the creatures would appear and besiege him in such a way that he eventually grew afraid of them.

[Note from Scott Corrales: The description of Julio’s para-apes strongly resembles the one offered by witnesses of the strange, long-eared ‘imps’ seen in Puerto Rico’s El Yunque mountain in the Caribbean National Forest]

(Cr: Salvador Freixedo, La Granja Humana (The Human Farm), Mexico: Editorial Posada)

Antonio Ribera: Three Cases from March 1950

 

Antonio Ribera: Three Cases from March 1950

I keep in my archives three press clippings—the first French and the other two Spanish—none of which indicate the specific newspaper of origin, which I will summarize below.

According to an inspector from the Mexican Civil Aeronautics agency, who was traveling through the northern part of the country, on March 3rd—at approximately 3:00 p.m.—he sighted a strange, yellowish disc over the city of Chihuahua at an altitude he estimated to be 5,000 meters.

The object remained motionless for five minutes, positioned directly above the airport. Although two aircraft took off in pursuit of the object, they were unable to reach it. According to said inspector, another twenty people were accompanying him at the moment of the observation.

The second news item is dated March 14 and is very brief, stating verbatim: "Mexico, 14. — Hundreds of people—among them several aviation observers—report having seen four flying saucers over the Mexico City Airport. — EFE."

The third press report is dated March 21, and, under the headline "The Enigma of Flying Saucers," it compiles various global news items regarding the issue—one of which comes from Mexico: "In Mexico, one of them was sighted so clearly that it was able to be photographed by newsreel cameramen. A newspaper, *El Nacional*, asserts that another saucer crashed in the Sierra de Moronesa (State of Zacatecas) and caused the earth to boil."


1953: Salvador Villanueva's "Contact"

The case of Salvador Villanueva is not, chronologically speaking, the first of the numerous cases of "contact" with extraterrestrials—an occurrence to which the American continent has been so prolific—but it is, indeed, the first one we document in this book.

This case began on Friday, August 14, 1953—the day on which Salvador Villanueva, a taxi driver from Mexico City, agreed to drive an American couple, the Reeves, all the way to the United States. The journey took place the following day; during the trip, the car suffered a breakdown, leaving it stranded on the highway with only Villanueva present, as the couple had continued on foot toward the nearest town. While Villanueva was alone in the car, two small beings—resembling aviators in appearance—suddenly appeared, and the driver struck up a conversation with them.

However, I believe it would be more interesting to partially transcribe an unpublished document regarding this case, thereby ceding the floor to Villanueva himself. It consists of a letter written by him personally, containing... Date: February 5, 1962. To my collaborator, Doña Editha Schmidt, who resides in Palma de Mallorca. After providing a few
personal details, he states the following:

"Yours truly was approaching his birthday on August 17, 1953; I had no money other than what I earned each day, as I was working with a hired car—or 'cruising service,' as it is called in Mexico City. In the course of this work, I served some Americans who were en route to their hotel. Along the way, they asked me (in Spanish—for they hailed from the Southern United States, where this language is spoken) if I knew of a chauffeur who could help them drive a car toward our shared border. The pay was good, and the prospect offered relief from the thought of spending my birthday in destitution—a date that was only three days away, as this encounter took place on Friday, August 14, 1953. So, we agreed to meet on Saturday, August 15, at their hotel. We picked up the car—which was being kept at a mechanic's shop—and, after some last-minute shopping, we set off toward the northern reaches of the American continent. Just as dusk was falling, we passed through a town called Ciudad Valles, located 480 kilometers from Mexico City; four kilometers further on, the car began to emit a troublesome noise from its transmission. (The couple—the gentleman and his wife—agreed to return to the town of Valles in search of a mechanic.) It began to grow dark, and then occurred the event I recount in my book regarding the departure for Venus. What became of the car and its owners is easy to understand (it was a Saturday, and in Mexico, people tend to stop working early in the day). My impromptu employers could not find anyone to assist them immediately. They checked into a hotel in the town—of which there are dozens—and spent..." ...comfortably through the night, and the following day—Sunday, August 16—after having a meal, they secured a tow truck and retrieved their car. They didn't find me. They assumed that I, too, had returned to the town to have breakfast; and, in any case, if they didn't see me again, they would save 8,500 Mexican pesos on my wages. But by then, nothing in this world mattered to me anymore, for I was under the influence of those amiable Venusians....an absence that lasted until Friday, August 21—perhaps at 6:00 a.m., more or less the same time he had departed the previous Sunday. Thus, my absence lasted five days, give or take a few minutes."

Salvador Villanueva Medina provides all these details in response to a question posed by Mrs. Schmidt regarding the duration of his absence from our planet (for, according to Villanueva, the two small beings had taken him to Venus in their spacecraft) and regarding what had become of his car during his absence.

The eminent British researcher Gordon Creighton describes the case in his work *Los Humanoides* (The Humanoids), and Villanueva himself recounts his journey in the aforementioned book.
Given its significance, I will transcribe the version of the event offered by GWC in *Los Humanoides en Iberoamérica* (The Humanoids in Ibero-America)—a section or chapter of the aforementioned work which I myself translated into Spanish for Editorial Pomaire:

"At 6:00 p.m. on a day in mid-August 1953 (as we have already established, it was the 15th), the Mexico City taxi driver Salvador Villanueva—40 years of age—was lying beneath his vehicle, examining the transmission, which had broken down, when he noticed two pairs of legs clad in something that resembled 'seamless gray corduroy.' Emerging from beneath the car, he found himself standing before two pleasant-looking men, approximately 1.35 meters tall, dressed in one-piece suits that covered them from neck to ankle, featuring wide, shiny, perforated belts, metallic collars, and small, gleaming black boxes attached to their backs. Under their arms, they carried 'helmets resembling those worn by pilots or rugby players.' Their diminutive stature did not seem particularly strange in Mexico, a country home to numerous very short indigenous people." Villanueva concluded that they were, without a doubt, aviators from some sister republic in Central or South America. "One of them spoke Spanish well, though in a peculiar manner—'running all the words together'—and with a strange accent. The other, conversely, although he evidently understood the language, did not utter a single word. Both directed sympathetic smiles at him, spoke of his automobile and other trivial matters, and, when it began to rain, accepted Villanueva’s invitation to take shelter inside the vehicle, which was parked on the side of the national highway.

"Throughout the night, various casual observations began to unnerve Villanueva, who was left utterly dumbfounded upon hearing this final statement: 'We are not from this planet. We come from one very far away, but we know many things about your world.'

"At dawn, he accompanied them to their craft, which was resting in a clearing half a kilometer from the highway; he noticed that as they crossed a stretch of marshy ground—into which he himself sank deeply—the legs and feet of the little men remained clean. 'When their feet touched the muddy puddles, their belts would glow, and the mud would splash away as if repelled by an invisible force.'
"The disc—some 12 meters in diameter—resembled two gleaming soup plates joined together at their concave sides. There were small portholes set into the craft’s small dome; the vessel rested upon three large metallic spheres and emitted a low, muffled hum. A section of the lower hull opened up, forming a gangway whose handrails consisted of the very cables supporting it." The two little men boarded, inviting Villanueva to follow them; however, he turned around and ran a short distance away, watching from there as the craft rose slowly—with a pendular motion, "or like a dry leaf falling in reverse"—until, at a height of a few meters, it began to glow intensely, then shot upward at dizzying speed, accompanied by a faint hiss, and immediately vanished from sight."

(Cr: Antonio Ribera, Platillos Volantes en Iberoamérica y España)