The Real Business

of Ancient Maya Economies

From Farmers’ Fields to Rulers’ Realms

ED ITED BY

Marilyn A. Masson,
David A. Freidel,
and Arthur A. Demarest

Foreword by Arlen F. Chase and Diane Z. Chase

University Press of Florida

Gainesville / Tallahassee / Tampa / Boca Raton
Pensacola / Orlando / Miami / Jacksonville / Ft. Myers / Sarasota
 16
Bundling the Sticks
A Case for Classic Maya Tallies

A l e x a n dr e Tokov i n i n e

A scene from a recently published cylinder vase once painted by an artist from
Motul de San José (M. Coe and Houston 2015:Pl. XVIII) offers a rare glimpse of
the celestial court of God D during the latest creation event. Of all the poten-
tially significant details, our attention is drawn to the three animals apparently
in charge of the accounting. The vulture (us) seems to be adding numbers on
a sheet of paper. The opossum (uch) is grasping a screenfold codex. However,
the third accountant, the dog (ook), does not seem to be holding anything at
all. This image illustrates, perhaps more than anything else, the gap in our un-
derstanding of the Classic Maya accounting practices. We know that they deliv-
ered taxes (patan), made payments (tojool), engaged in various market activi-
ties, and amassed fortunes worth tens of thousands cacao beans (Stuart 2006;
Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013). But how were these transactions recorded? The
goal of this chapter is to present evidence of another form of record-keeping in
the Maya area, which may have been the principal way of recording economic
transactions. As we are going to see below, the Classic Maya term for it was
“sticks.” The most appropriate etic term would be “tallies,” defined here as nota-
tional systems adapted to specific media such as wooden sticks.
As shown by the contributions to this volume, Maya studies are undergoing
a paradigmatic shift in acknowledging the contribution of markets and market
exchange to the ancient Maya economies. The shift is supported by several lines
of evidence. Certain spaces within the urban cores of Maya cities have been
identified as markets based on ethnohistoric analogies, artifact distribution, and
soil chemistry (Cap 2011; Dahlin et al. 2010; Chapter 22). A combination of spe-
cialized production and uniform distribution of artifacts between households
also points to the presence of markets (D. Chase and A. Chase 2014c; Masson
and Freidel 2013). The distribution of certain artifacts such as fine polychrome
pottery, however, suggests that other mechanisms were also involved (Eppich,
Chapter 9; LeCount 2016; Tsukamoto, Chapter 15). It has been argued that the
objects circulating through the prestige networks of Maya nobles were inalien-
able possessions and not commodities (Callaghan 2013; Kovacevich 2013b). Fi-
nally, investigations of the ports of trade such as the city of Cancuén (Demarest
et al. 2014) attest to the scale of long-distance trade during the Classic Period,
not so dissimilar from the sixteenth-century state of affairs (Piña Chan 1978).
The major role of market exchange in the ancient Maya economies has two
important implications. First, the specialized producers, consumers, and trad-
ers of commodities must have relied on monies. Several potential nonperish-
able media of exchange, particularly shell and jade beads, have been identified
in the contributions to this volume and earlier publications (Freidel et al. 2016;
Freidel and Reilly 2010; Masson and Peraza 2014a:277–298), in addition to the
perishable monies such as cotton mantles and cacao beans described in the
ethnohistoric sources (Blom 1934; Tozzer 1941:96). The second implication is
that a system of accounting must have existed to record financial transactions.
Loans are of particular relevance here, as the shared terms for credit and profit
in the Mayan languages demonstrate a considerable antiquity of the practices
(Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013). Although Gaspar Antonio Chi, for example, ex-
plicitly stated that contracts were not written down in the native script (Tozzer
1941:231), a view also expressed in the 1593 court case cited by Blom (1934:437–
438), it is hard to imagine a total lack of accounting. Contact period sources are
somewhat vague on the notion of interest, but the Yucatec terms naj and p’axlil
refer to a profit made on a nonequivalent loan (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1995:550,
683–684). “Interest” is uyar tumin in Ch’orti’ (Hull 2016:235) and jol tak’in in
Tzotzil (Laughlin 1975:157) and Ch’ol (Aulie and Aulie 1978:67). Ch’orti’ also fea-
tures paxi “to gain an advantage over” (Hull 2016:327), which may be related
to the Yucatec p’axlil. In a rather volatile political climate of the Classic Maya
world, trading, especially long-distance trading, entailed a lot of risk-taking.
Consequently, loan-givers risked as well and probably expected additional re-
wards for the exposure to a potential loss of their investments.
It is also reasonable to assume that similar accounting practices were applied
not only to the transactions between market agents but also in the context of
taxation and other economic interactions with the state. The term for price and

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 277

 loan repayment, tojool, is cited along with the more appropriate patan (“tax”
and “labor”) in references to taxation in Classic Maya inscriptions (Tokovi-
nine and Beliaev 2013:175–176). A scene of presenting bundles of cotton mantles
(ubte’) at the court of Motul de San José rulers (K1728; Tokovinine and Beliaev
2013:Figure 7.2b) is described in the hieroglyphic commentary as “the interest
[najal, see above], the cotton mantles of K’eblaj Muut are presented (nawaj)
[as] a [loan] payment [tojool] of/to sajal . . . Muut.” Therefore, the scene depicts
either a royal arbitration of a dispute over an interest payment (from K’eblaj
Muut to a sajal) or taxation in the form of an interest on an earlier loan to be
repaid as cotton mantles (K’eblaj Muut’s mantles paid by the sajal to the king).
A text on a stone panel from Jonuta (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013:Figure 7.2d)
mentions how the protagonist adorns himself (the text uses an intransitive verb
derived from an undeciphered term for chest pectorals) “with jade [and] with
shell beads” (ta ikitz ta k’an, the objects used as monies according to Freidel et
al. 2016) as a “(loan) payment” (tojool).
A set of transactions of the kind hinted in the abovementioned scene on the
Motul de San José vessel would have been hard to commit to memory. The latest
summary on Classic Maya accounting tools (Freidel et al. 2016) shares a consen-
sus view among Mayanists that economic transactions were facilitated by tallies/
tokens and probably recorded in the hieroglyphic books, much like the one held
by a vulture in the mythical scene on a vessel described at the beginning of this
chapter. Yet it is doubtful that Classic Maya analogs of Sumerian contracts on clay
tablets ever existed (Van De Mieroop 2005). As noted above, we have no Contact
Period confirmation of financial contracts written in the indigenous script. As
for the Classic Period, epigraphic sources suggest extremely low levels of literacy
(Houston 1994, 2008; Houston and Stuart 1992). Very little evidence of spontane-
ous production of writing such as literate graffiti has been found, as confirmed in
the latest comprehensive overview of the subject (Źrałka 2014:131–139).
A somewhat more arcane argument for low literacy levels among the elites
themselves addresses the issue of knowledge transfer recently pondered by Eb-
erl (2017). For example, creating fine polychrome serving vessels required a lot
specialized knowledge of raw materials and production processes, especially at
the firing stage, because many pigments were potentially unstable (Houston et
al. 2009:66–68). Some workshops, such as the one at Motul de San José (Hal-
perin and Foias 2010), had access to literate artists. Yet elite makers of fine poly-
chrome vessels at other Classic Maya sites were illiterate, whereas their literate
elite neighbors were unable to make painted polychromes (see also Tsukamoto,

278 Alexandre Tokovinine

Chapter 15). Elite craftspeople at Aguateca were literate and produced elaborate
ceramic artifacts (Inomata et al. 2014b:39–48), but their inscribed polychrome
vessels were nonlocal (Houston 2014b). The presence of literate artists at Hol-
mul/La Sufricaya is evidenced in the inscriptions on modeled stucco, carved
stone, murals, and graffiti, but locally produced texts appear only on Terminal
Classic modeled and carved vessels (Estrada Belli et al. 2009; Estrada Belli and
Tokovinine 2016). The makers of fine polychromes at Holmul had been illiterate
all along (Tokovinine 2006a). A similar divide between real texts on modeled
vessels and imitations on polychrome pottery is attested at Copán (Coggins
1988; Tokovinine 2004). Perhaps the strangest case is offered by the contempo-
raneous early eighth century workshops of inscribed polychromes at Naranjo,
which radically differed in style and even in some orthographic conventions of
the texts and yet shared some uniquely local allographs, which also appeared
on Naranjo carved monuments (Tokovinine 2006b).
Given the low levels of literacy and sociocultural barriers to technology
transfer evidenced in these cases, it is very unlikely that most market agents,
even among the elites, could record financial transactions using hieroglyphic
manuscripts. Of course, one could hypothesize the existence of a small group
of highly specialized palace accountants effectively monopolizing the recording
process, but this scenario would contradict the apparent lack of archaeological
and textual evidence of a substantial top-down involvement of the royal court in
the market activities. Consequently, recording devices, if there were any, should
have been accessible to people with no exposure to writing and with limited
knowledge of numbers.
Tallies are one of the most cross-culturally widespread and oldest forms of
record-keeping and may be traced back to Upper Paleolithic humans, who re-
lied on notched animal bones to record lunar cycles and possibly historical
events (Marshack 1991). The Western tradition of tally sticks stretches from ref-
erences in Ancient Greek and Roman texts to nineteenth-century accounting
practices (Baxter 1989). In the New World the Middle Horizon Wari and later
Inka khipu are the most well-known examples of a complex tally system that
was adequate for the administrative needs of a large bureaucratic state (Conklin
1982; Urton 1998, 2003; Urton and Brezine 2005). Various indigenous cultures
in North America relied on tally sticks to keep track of the lunar and solar
calendars and possibly other ritual cycles (Marshack 1989; Murray 1989). Ar-
chaeological evidence such as the Presa de la Mula rock carving (Murray 1979)
indicates that the tradition of tallies extends into Mesoamerica.

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 279

 Students of Mesoamerican cultures have been reluctant to consider the role
of tallies in the local record-keeping practices. It seems that the implicit as-
sumption is to see tallies and writing systems as an evolutionary sequence, so
that Classic Mesoamerican societies no longer needed tallies because of the
invention of writing. However, tallies and written documents often coexist. Eu-
ropean accounting practices relied on tally sticks well into the nineteenth cen-
tury (Baxter 1989; Goetzmann and Williams 2005). Even with relatively wide-
spread literacy and accessible writing implements, as in the case of the medieval
Novgorod republic, tallies were instrumental in recording business transactions
(Kovalev 2007). In South America khipu tallies had been a viable alternative to
the Spanish documents until they were banned by the colonial authorities at-
tempting to monopolize the public records (Urton 2002). Therefore, we need
to consider the traits that make tallies such an efficient accounting tool. Tallies
are durable, transportable, and can cross language barriers. Simple practices
like split tallies make them nearly impossible to forge (Goetzmann and Wil-
liams 2005). Tallies recording outstanding obligations such as taxes and credit
effectively function as money (F. Martin 2014).

Ethnographic Evidence of Maya Tallies

There is ethnographic evidence of tallies in the Maya area. The relatively well-
known Chamula wooden calendar board (Gossen 1974; Marshack 1974) was a
functional tally used by the Tzotzil Maya to track the solar year-based ritual
calendar, much like other indigenous tally traditions in the Americas. Yet the
most significant case is a set of six tally sticks in the collections of the Peabody
Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University (record number
06-60-20/C3944; Figure 16.1). The sticks were donated to the museum by Ed-
ward Thompson, who likely collected them himself during his stay in northern
Yucatán. I have been unable to find references to these tallies in Thompson’s
published and unpublished writings. According to the note left with the sticks,
they were “said by the Natives to record work done.” The note goes on to report
that “when the sticks are full or the works is finished they are kept by employer
as receipts” and that “each man’s name is on his sticks.” It would be tempting to
speculate that the sticks were used by Thompson’s hacienda workers, but there
is no definitive match between the names on the sticks and his records.
All six sticks have four sides, and at least one of the corners between the
long sides of every stick is notched. None are “complete” in the sense of using

280 Alexandre Tokovinine

Figure 16.1. Tally sticks in the Peabody Museum collection: (a) stick A; (b) stick B; (c) stick C; (d)
stick D; (e) stick E; (f) stick F (drawings by Alexandre Tokovinine).

all the corner space. Given Thompson’s description, it is safe to assume that
the notches represent counts of days, which may or may not be continuous.
The smallest number of notches on a stick is 63; the largest is 164. The number
of notches on a single corner varies from 21 to 105. In addition to the corner
notches, thin incised lines segment the counts into groups. The lines always
touch the notched corner that they refer to. The lines are only absent on sticks

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 281

 B and C (Figure 16.1b, c). The same corner-notch count on stick D (Figure 16.1d)
is provided with two sets of lines. One set segments the count into 10 + 10 + 10
+ 5 + 5 + 10 + 9. The other set segments the same count into 16 + 10 + 10 + 10 +
4 + 5 + 4. The lines on stick A (Figure 16.1a) split the count into 16 + 28 + 21. The
lines on stick F (Figure 16.1f) evoke a recurrent unit of 25 that is presented as 8
+ 11 + 6, 23 + 2, 23 + 2, 25, plus a possibly incomplete set of 5 notches. A single
line on stick E (Figure 16.1e) apparently splits the total count of 164 into 100 +
64. The positioning of that line in relation to an incomplete set of notches on the
next corner of the same stick (where the count was likely interrupted) suggests
that the notches were added and read in a boustrophedon pattern.
The totals of notches on individual corners and the way in which they are
further segmented by the lines strongly suggests that the users relied on a deci-
mal numeral system and not on a traditional Maya vigesimal numeral system.
For example, the total on one corner count of stick D is 100 (Figure 16.1d) and is
subdivided into 10 + 10 + 10 + 10 + 10. However, the reliance on a decimal sys-
tem is not surprising, because by the time the sticks were collected by Thomp-
son the indigenous numeral system had long been out of use in the Yucatán and
the corresponding words had been replaced by Spanish loans.
Only sticks A, B, and C feature names (Leandro, José, and Francito) and thus
conform to Thompson’s description (Figure 16.1a–c). The name “Francito” on
stick C is recorded twice (Figure 16.1c): the first (earlier?) iteration is in smaller
letters and appears smudged or crossed-over; the second (later?) iteration is
written in larger letters by a different hand. Once again, this fits a picture of
Maya workers submitting the notched sticks, which are then labeled, relabeled,
and stored by the employer(s). Of the labeled sticks, only stick A features ad-
ditional lines segmenting the count into 16 + 28 + 21 (Figure 16.1a). The corner
counts of stick B are 42 (complete) and 21 (incomplete). The counts of Stick
C are 33 and 40. In contrast to many European tallies, the design of the sticks
implies that they were not meant to be split into halves, so it is unclear whether
the record was duplicated. The first two sets of count marks on stick A may be
represented as 7 × 3 and 7 × 4. The intervals on stick B are 7 × 3 × 2 and 7 × 3.
The common multiple of 7 may reference the 7-day week. The count on stick C
does not visibly follow this pattern, so that person’s labor obligations may have
been arranged differently.
The function of sticks D–F is unclear. They could not be used in the same
way as the first three, although it is still possible that the stick owner could be
identified by an attached label or by the unique shape of the stick. Stick D with

282 Alexandre Tokovinine

its alternative segmentation of the same count is the likeliest candidate for the
same group as sticks A–C. It is interesting that one of its segmentations of 16 +
10 + 10 + 10 + 4 + 5 + 4 is somewhat similar to the count of 16 + 28 + 21 on stick
A. The count on Stick B may be presented as 2 × 21 + 21. Perhaps we are dealing
with the records of individuals, who sometimes worked together. The intervals
of 10, 15, and 20 days were common in labor arrangements for hacienda workers
in Mexico and Guatemala (Katz 1974:25; Schmolz-Haberlein 1996:242).
The counts on sticks E and F are harder to interpret as labor records. Stick
E (Figure 16.1e) contains a long count of days segmented as 47 + 45 + 8 + 37 +
27. If one assumes that the count of 27 is incomplete, the potential total could
be close to half of the tropical year. The interval of 92 days (47 + 45) and the
possible interval of at least 92 days (45 + 27 + *20 judging from the remaining
space) suggest that the count refer to lunar months or to the time between solar
solstices and equinoxes (e.g., Vernal Equinox—Summer Solstice—Autumnal
Equinox). Stick F (Figure 16.1f) features a recurrent number of 25 days with a
further subdivision into 8 + 11 + 6 or 23 + 2. The count could refer, for example,
to observational lunar months with gaps around the time of the new moon.
However, 25 days would also equal the amount of days it took to earn enough to
buy a quintal of beans in 1934 prices in highland Guatemala (Schmolz-Haber-
lein 1996:241). The number of days in a month minus Sundays would also be
about 25.

Maya Tallies and Tokens in the Archaeological Record

The artifacts in the Peabody Museum collection attest to the Maya tally stick
accounting practices in the early twentieth century and to their apparent co-
existence with the Spanish record-keeping and writing. Although it is highly
unlikely that such perishable objects will ever be found in the ancient Maya
archaeological record, several portable elite artifacts made from more durable
materials potentially reflect the presence of tally sticks during the Classic Period.
One of the most striking collections of elite tallies comes from the burial in
Urn 26 in Temple II at the archaeological site of Comalcalco, Mexico (Armijo
Torres et al. 2000; Zender 2004:248–263; Zender et al. 2001). The occupant
of the urn, a local priest named Aj Pakal Tahn, was interred with a bundle of
52 shell and bone “pendants,” which should rather be described as tallies or
tokens. The tokens were in paired sets (Figure 16.2a–b). One side of the pair
was covered with an inscription, whereas the other side had grooves, so that

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 283

 the pair could be tied together with the inscribed sides facing each other and
thus hidden from view. The perforations in the top section of either half of the
set would then allow attaching the tied tokens to a master cord with the rest of
the collection. The inscriptions on each pair detailed a single activity, usually
an auto-sacrifice in the presence of a specific deity. Therefore, the complete set
was a tangible, durable, and portable record of Aj Pakal Tahn’s most significant
ritual accomplishments. It is potentially significant that the inscribed sides of

Figure 16.2. Tally-like elite artifacts: (a) and (b) shell tokens (Pendants 7A/7B), Urn 26,
Comalcalco; (c) bone “awl” (4P-113(15)/2, MT. 26), Burial 116, Tikal; (d) unprovenanced
“Stendahl bone” (after Barthel 1968:Figs. 1, 2).

284 Alexandre Tokovinine

the tokens could only be seen once each pair was untied, implying that the pub-
lic display and manipulation of these objects probably did not entail reading.
At least four other urn burials at Comalcalco contained similar tokens. Those
in Urn 18 of Temple III were also inscribed, but their preservation was much
worse (Armijo Torres et al. 2000:316–317). The implication is that the tokens in
Urn 26 are indicative of a widespread practice, which is only sparsely reflected
in the material record because of preservation issues.
Classic Maya bone implements have also been previously identified as poten-
tial tallies, although the problem is that various emic terms indicative of func-
tion correspond to the same awl-like shape of the artifacts and they all appear
in bundles. The list includes “weaving bones” (Houston and Stuart 2001:64–65),
“scratching bones” (Stuart 2005:117), “offering bones” (Stuart 2013), “perforating
bones” (Lacadena García-Gallo 2003:82), and even “canoe bones” (Moholy-Nagy
and Coe 2008:Figure 189–191). Consequently, potential bone tallies or tokens
may be identified as such only based on the information they contain. Freidel et
al. (2016:36, Figure 2) describe a bundle of awl-like bone implements discovered
in Burial 39 at El Perú–Waka’ and suggest that the objects could serve as tal-
lies rather than weaving tools. A similar bundle of “hairpins” was uncovered in
Burial 3 in Structure 209 at Baking Pot (Audet 2006:245–246, Figure 5.42)
A significant set of such objects comes from the Burial 116 in Temple 1, Ti-
kal (Jones 1987; Moholy-Nagy and Coe 2008:61–62, Figures 189–207). Many
of these artifacts look like awls, but only a few are labeled as “bones” (u-baak)
of the royal occupant of the tomb without any further functional clarification.
Some twenty bones feature self-contained inscriptions, sometimes in sets of
two, with topics ranging from lists and historical events to calendars. The 4P-
113(15)/2, MT. 26 artifact illustrated here (Figure 16.2c) references an important
ritual cycle called “3 × 11 pik.” Some bones in the set were plain. Just as in the
case of the Comalcalco set, the significance of these artifacts lies in the choices
of medium and format, which imply the existence of alternative record-keeping
practices involving tallies or tokens.
Perhaps the most significant Classic Period elite tally-like object is a deer
bone of unknown provenience in the Stendahl collection (T. Barthel 1967).
Judging by its style, the artifact was made around AD 400. The carving shows
an enthroned deity, probably God D, casting incense or divination stones above
two columns with a full set of the twenty day names from the sacred 260-day
calendar arranged in a boustrophedon pattern following a counterclockwise di-
rection (Figure 16.2d). The days are listed sequentially, although the count starts

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 285

 with the Ajaw day instead of Imix, just as in a similar count on an Early Classic
vessel from Tikal (K5618, MS1638, MNAE 11138-A, B: Reents-Budet 1994:114–
149, 327, Figure 4.40). The shift to Ajaw in combination with God D’s imagery
could reference the Winal creation narrative (Callaway 2009). Yet the artifact
may also serve as a calendar aid, much like the ethnographically documented
North American stick tallies.
Some of the so-called rasps—long bones with parallel grooves—are also
candidates for simple tally sticks. Of the seven such rasp bones found at Tikal
(Moholy-Nagy 2003a:61, Figure 124), only four have deep grooves and could
function as musical instruments (Moholy-Nagy 2003a:Figure 124a, b, e, f).
A rabbit femur with horizontal marks is too small for a rasp (Moholy-Nagy
2003a:Figure 124g). The remaining two long bones have fine parallel incisions
and not grooves (Moholy-Nagy 2003a:Figure 124c, d).

Textual and Visual References to Classic Maya Tallies

Given the presence of tallies in the ethnographic record and the existence of
Classic Period elite artifacts indicative of similar accounting practices, it is pos-
sible to interpret several passages in Classic Maya inscriptions as references to
stick tallies. An important contributing factor here is the recent reevaluation
of the significance of the verb tz’ak in Hieroglyphic Mayan (Estrada Belli and
Tokovinine 2016:158–159). The common approach among epigraphers is to treat
this verb as a single root that means “to count, to accumulate, to put in order”
(Boot 2009:176) or “to file, align, arrange something” (Stuart 2005:89). How-
ever, it seems that the same TZ’AK logogram spells two different tz’ak roots,
one of which is a positional verb plus its derivations, whereas the other root is
a CVC transitive.
Kaufman and Norman (1984:134) reconstruct *tz’äk “complete” as a positional
and a transitive verb stem for Proto-Ch’olan. The positional verb—“to take place
in a certain order”—is combined with the -bu causative suffix and becomes a
transitive verb tz’akbu “to succeed” or “to complete.” This verb and its participle
(tz’akbuul) usually refer to dynastic succession and more opaque statements
when rulers “complete” the actions of their predecessors (Houston 1998; S. Mar-
tin 2003:38, Stuart 2003a, 2011:3–4; Stuart et al. 1999:32). Unfortunately, the most
productive analogies for this interpretation come from Yucatec dictionaries and
texts and not from the Ch’olan languages, which are much more closely related
to Hieroglyphic Mayan (Houston et al. 2000). The only Ch’olan analogy is pro-

286 Alexandre Tokovinine

vided by Acalán Chontal Paxbolón-Maldonado papers, where -tz’ak functions as
a numerical classifier in the count of rulers (Smailus 1975:27–34).
The second root—a transitive verb tz’ak—means “to add, to bring together”
in Ch’orti’ (Hull 2005:109). Its nominalized form—tz’ahk—signifies “bundle,
collection, joint” (Wisdom 1950:734). The adjective tz’akar may be translated as
“bundled, joined” (Wisdom 1950:737). Acalán Chontal uses the cognate tz’akal
in the context of tribute bundles (Smailus 1975:87).
The meaning of tz’ak seems to entail assembling a totality of something. It
distinguishes this verb, for example, from Ch’orti’ nut’, which also means “to
join” but as in mending a piece of torn clothing (Wisdom 1950:548), or from
tzik, which means “to count” but not specifically when summing-up (Wis-
dom 1950:729). The -es/-se causative suffix may be added to the tz’ak stem as
in Ch’orti’ tz’akse “to adjust, to modify” (Hull 2005:109) and Ch’ol tz’ʌktesan “to
complete” (Aulie and Aulie 1978:122).
The most common form of this transitive root in the Classic Maya inscrip-
tions is a nominalized form tz’a[h]ka’ or tz’a[h]kaj that refers to the elapsed
time. Its literal translation would be “something that is brought together/added
(or pertains to this act).” The expression utz’ahka’ usually occurs before a count
of time separating different events (a so-called distance number), but occasion-
ally no distance number is present. For example, utz’ahkaj in block H24 on Tikal
Stela 31 introduces a count of days, months, and years to the next event (Jones
and Satterthwaite 1982:Figure 52), but utz’ahkaj in blocks F15, H6, and H9 of the
same inscription is immediately followed by clauses that begin with a date. It
is clear from these contexts that the expression refers to the elapsed time that
is somehow “brought together” like a bundle. It is, perhaps, a reflection of a
broader Mesoamerican concept of time that can be added up into bundles like
Aztec xiuhmolpilli and earlier representations of year-bundles at Teotihuacán
(Fash et al. 2009:206–209). This interpretation is confirmed by two unusual
expressions: winik tz’ak-tuunil-a’ or winik tuun tz’ahka’ (“person of one score of
brought together stones [years]”) on the recently discovered frieze on Holmul
Building A-sub (Figure 16.3a) and huli ucha’ tz’ahk uwinikhaab ti ajawlel “it
came, the second bundling of his k’atun in kingship” on Hieroglyphic Stairway
1 at Dos Pilas (Houston and Mathews 1985:11, Figure 7c).
The passage of time is also one of the contexts in which the tz’ak verb–
proper is used. The Calendar Round date on Toniná Fragment 35 (Houston and
Mathews 1985:11, Figure 7a) was probably 6 Eb 0 Mol. Most inscriptions would
refer to that day as Mol’s “seating” (chum mol) or “edge of the haab Yaxk’in” (ti’

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 287

 Figure 16.3. “Adding-up the sticks” expression in Classic Maya texts: (a) detail of the stucco frieze on
Building A, Group II, Holmul; (b) detail of Fragment 35, Toniná; (c) detail of Stela 32, Naranjo; (d)
and (e) details of Stela 12, Piedras Negras; (f) Stela 5, El Chal (drawings by Alexandre Tokovinine).

haab yaxk’in). However, the Toniná text (Figure 16.3b) uses a different expres-
sion: “since it had arrived, Yaxk’in added-up the sticks” (huliiy utz’ak[aw] te’
yaxk’in). Therefore, it seems that Yaxk’in’s tenure begins with its “arrival” and
ends with an accounting act in which the “sticks” are put together. If complet-
ing a k’atun involves putting together “stones” (a reference to monuments?),
Yaxk’in’s “sticks” are probably calendar sticks used in counting days. Alterna-
tively, the metaphor may reference a courtly accounting practice, which the
personified months would also adopt.

288 Alexandre Tokovinine

 A courtly setting is certainly in place for another context of the “adding-
up the sticks” expression. The scene on Naranjo Stela 32 (I. Graham 1978:86)
features an elaborate palanquin. The main inscription states that the royal
protagonist visited the city of Ucanal under the auspices of a local ruler with
some regional political ambitions. An additional inscription in finer incised
characters that grace the steps of the palanquin details gifts from a subordinate
lord named K’uk’ Bahlam (Stuart 2006:133–134): “[On the day] 8 Imix 14 Suutz’
K’uk’ Bahlam gave two scores in/with the precious jewels (ikaatz) at . . . ; eleven
[days] and seven months past, [on the day] 12 Eb 5 K’anasiiy K’uk’ Bahlam put
the sticks together, five scores; he is giving in/with the precious jewels (ikaatz).
Then it happened, [the day] 8 Ajaw.” It seems that collecting the “sticks” marks
the second and final tribute-payment act. It is also directly linked to the state-
ment about the size of the payment.
Haab months and taxpayers are not the only ones who “add up sticks.” Ac-
cording to the main inscription (Figure 16.3d) and a caption to the scene (Figure
16.3e) on Piedras Negras Stela 12 (Stuart and Graham 2003:61–63), the captives
utzakaw te’ “added-up the stick(s).” We know that Classic Maya war captives
were not always sacrificed. Defeated Yich’aak Bahlam of Ceibal was famously
reinstated as a vassal of the victorious Dos Pilas king (S. Martin and Grube 2008
[2000]:61–63). A similar fate befell K’an Joy Chitam of Palenque after he was
captured by a Toniná rival (Stuart 2003a). The narrative on the so-called Den-
ver and Brussels “panels” describes how one of the recently captured lords was
subsequently “summoned” to the court of the victorious king along with other
vassals (Beliaev and Safronov 2004; Biró 2005:2–8; Houston 2014a). Therefore,
it is quite possible that the inscription on Stela 12 refers to future payments of
ransom and/or tribute: the captives were literally presenting tallies or token
proving their worth to the captors.
It is perhaps worth mentioning here that the most common term for captives
in Hieroglyphic Mayan is “bone” (baak). It is widely assumed that the designa-
tion refers to a practice of keeping the long bones of captives as trophies, as
described by Landa (Tozzer 1941:120–123). The ample archaeological evidence
of dismemberment does not include any cases of human bones with inscrip-
tions identifying them as trophies, although tagged ancestral bones do occur
(Fitzsimmons 2009:167–169). For instance, well-known depictions of a royal
captive in the abovementioned set of Burial 116 at Tikal are on deer bones (Mo-
holy-Nagy and Coe 2008:61, Figure 201a, b). In other words, that captive was
connected to a set of two bones, but they were not his bones. Consequently, the

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 289

 captives-as-bones metaphor may carry a double significance: military trophies
but also tallies or tokens.
The final case of “adding up sticks” is provided by El Chal Stela 5 (Figure
16.3f). Like the nearby Stela 4, this monument actually glorifies the exploits of
the Ucanal ruler Itzamnaaj Bahlam, whose political patronage extended over
El Chal and other sites in the region (Carter 2016:244). If the Calendar Round
date on Stela 5 is reconstructed as 4 Lamat 1 Pax, it corresponds to AD 727 or
relatively early in Itzamnaaj Bahlam’s reign. It predates the much larger Stela 4
dedicated by Itzamnaaj Bahlam in AD 760 in celebration of a k’atun midstation.
In contrast to Stela 4, the subject of the text and image on Stela 5 is not the cal-
endar. The carved scene is very eroded, but it probably depicts a palanquin with
a seated protagonist protected by a standing deity statue. The inscription states
that a lady from the ruling family of the site of El Chorro (Palka 1996) “added up
the sticks” before Itzamnaaj Bahlam. Given that El Chorro is located west of the
Petexbatún region, it is highly unlikely that its queen or princess paid tribute to
or was captured by the Ucanal lord. Yet the distance would not be unusual for a
marriage alliance, and there are similar depictions of royal brides in palanquins
(S. Martin 2008). Therefore, it is tempting to interpret the act of “adding up the
sticks” as presentation of a dowry or some other economic transaction that ac-
companied the marriage arrangement.
Although Contact Period authors do not explicitly mention transactions in-
volving stick tallies, at least one specific tribute-related gloss, (y)ubte’, attested
in Classic Period inscriptions (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013:175) and Yucatec
dictionaries (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1995:980–981), is a combination of the term
for a piece of cloth (ub) and te’. Together, ub and te’ denote a piece of cloth of
standardized size used in tribute transactions. Another Yucatec term for trib-
ute, ximte’, appears to consist of a numerical classifier for cacao and te’ (Barrera
Vásquez et al. 1995:944–945). Consequently, it is the “stick” part of these difra-
sismos that seemingly qualifies an object as a tribute/tax item.
If transactions with tallies and tokens are mentioned in such a diverse range
of contexts, why don’t we see them depicted in the Classic Maya palace scenes?
The answer to that question is that these objects are indeed present but have
been consistently misclassified. The best candidates here are the so-called
bundles of quills (Coe and Kerr 1998:97–101; Freidel et al. 2016). In a scene of
tribute mantle presentation as “payment” on a vessel from Motul de San José
(see Just 2012:148–151, Figure 86–92; Tokovinine and Zender 2012:58–59), all
the participants with the exception of two torch-holding servants have identical

290 Alexandre Tokovinine

small bundles of stick-like objects in their headdresses (Figure 16.4a). The same
bundles appear in the headdresses of the protagonists of other courtly scenes
painted by Motul de San José artists, including royal audiences (Figure 16.4b)
and several pulque-presentation events (Figure 16.4c; see Tokovinine 2016:17–
19). While it is theoretically possible to ascribe the presence of these bundles
to collective expressions of artistic inclination, the quill interpretation really
struggles to explain large plates with identical stick bundles before the ruler’s
throne in the same scenes, precisely where one expects a display of wealth like
bags of cacao beans (Figure 16.4b, c). One palace scene from the set (M. Miller
and Martin 2004:Pl. 7) even shows an attendant carrying a plate of stick bundles

Figure 16.4. Possible tally stick bundles in Classic Maya palace scenes on Motul de San José pot-
tery: (a) detail of a Late Classic vase (K1724); (b) detail of a Late Classic vase (PC.B.564/K2784); (c)
detail of a Late Classic vase (TA 32A-1-3/K30177) (images courtesy of Justin Kerr).

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 291

 to the ruler’s throne, where another plate of stick bundles already sits next to a
pile of tribute mantles and feathers. The implications are that Maya nobles car-
ried records in the form of bundled stick tallies or tokens and that such objects
were apparently standardized enough to be deposited in large numbers and
displayed as statements of one’s wealth. Moreover, given the ethnohistoric data
that shared drinks were a way of sealing contracts among the Early Colonial
Maya (Tozzer 1941:96), one is left wondering if the true meaning of the “image
with pulque” scenes could involve contractual obligations or taxation.
The final context of tallies in Classic Maya texts concerns a rather enigmatic
term for captives that is almost as common as “bone.” It has remained poorly
understood despite an extensive discussion of its known occurrences and spell-
ings by Martin (2004) and Velásquez García (2005). The term may be spelled
with a single character (T78:514), which could be preceded by ya- and followed
by -he (likely a phonetic complement) (Figure 16.5a). The -AJ character can also
be added (Figure 16.5b), perhaps as a spelling of the -aj “person” suffix (Houston
et al. 2001:6–7). Yet the same T78:514 character may also be preceded by ye-
(Figure 16.5c), so that the expression is written as ye-he-TE’ (Figure 16.5d) and
ye-TE’ (Figure 16.5e). As pointed out by Martin (2004:110), T78:514 substitutes
for the usual TE’ logogram in a different lexical context once, but the unique-

Figure 16.5. Examples of T78:514: (a) ya-T78: 514-he (Dzibanché Hieroglyphic Stairway, Block
5:B2); (b) ya-T78: 514-AJ (Dzibanché Hieroglyphic Stairway, Block 13:A3); (c) ye-T78: 514 (Yax-
chilán Lintel 35:C1); (d) ye-he-TE’ (Yaxchilán Hieroglyphic Stairway 5: 82); (e) ye-TE’ (Toniná
Monument 153:A3); (f) ye-TE’ K’IN-ni-chi (Motul de San José Stela 1:C4) (drawings by Alexandre
Tokovinine).

292 Alexandre Tokovinine

ness of the example implies that T78:514 and TE’ usually have different readings
even though -te’ was part of the phonetic value of T78:514.
The amount of variation in the spelling of this possible term for captives is
consistent with the way difrasismos appear in the Classic Maya script. The most
relevant cases would be saak sak ik’il, “seed, white breath” (Kettunen 2005), and
saak mijiin, “seed, child of father.” Both are spelled with conflations, flexible
reading order, and underspellings. T78:514 and its variants are characterized
by the same set of patterns. If this assumption is correct, T78:514 likely stands
for a conflation of TE’ with a logogram that would most likely be EH, “tooth,”
and potentially a third glyph with a reading that begins with a-, as the examples
prefixed by ya- appear to indicate. Bernal Romero (2015) recently proposed a
similar interpretation of T78:514 although he did not consider the possibility of
a difrasismo.
If the difrasismo hypothesis is correct, the most complete form of the expres-
sion will consist of y-eh-te’-(aj), “his/her ehte’ (person),” and y-a . . . -te’-(aj) “his/
her a . . . te’ (person).” Given the similarity of T78:514 to the AT “stinger” glyph
(Lopes 2005), the second half of the kenning could be y-at-te’-(aj). The term
ehte’ probably features the Ch’olan gloss eh, “tooth” (Kaufman and Norman
1984:119), so its literal meaning would be “tooth wood/stick/spear.” Although
no such term is attested in the Contact period sources, Yucatec julte’ “throw-
ing spear” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1995:244) and nabte’ “hand spear” (Barrera
Vásquez et al. 1995:546) are good analogies. The translation of ehte’ as a kind of
weapon would certainly fit the lexical contexts such as the personal name Ye[h]
te’ K’inich, “the tooth-spear of the Sun God” (Figure 16.5f), popular with Motul
de San José rulers (Tokovinine and Zender 2012). Halberds or macuahuitl-like
weapons with spear points and rows of triangular blades or shark teeth are
frequently depicted in Classic Maya imagery. The second half of the difrasismo
might denote a similar weapon (“stinger spear”), but it is tempting to consider
the possibility that a completely different class of objects was evoked. Tzelta-
lan languages share a gloss aht “to count” (as in accounting) (Ara 1986:246;
Kaufman 1972:94; Laughlin 1975:48). In Colonial Yucatec, atal means “to be
paid” or “something paid” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1995:18). If such interpreta-
tion of the T78:514 and related glyphs is correct, the captives were referred to
as people who pertained to the weapons and the accounting devices of the cap-
tor, his “halberd (person)” and “tally (person).” The first part of the difrasismo
evokes warfare as a means of procuring captives, while the second implies that
ransom or tribute would be paid. At least two war narratives at Palenque and

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 293

 Tikal conclude by placing the captives and captured items in a “house of eh te’/
aht te’,” perhaps a dedicated repository of trophies and tribute.

Conclusion

This chapter began by acknowledging the lack of studies of tallies and tokens
in Mesoamerica. In contrast to implicit assumptions among scholars, tallies
and writing often have complementary roles in accounting practices. There is
a widespread indigenous tradition of tallies in the Americas. Tally sticks and
tally boards were still in use in the Maya area in the twentieth century. A col-
lection of sticks in the Peabody Museum was likely related to labor accounting,
although the possibility of a calendrical function of at least two tallies cannot
be discarded. The presence of elite tally-like bone and shell artifacts during the
Classic Period suggests that tallies could have been used by the Classic Maya.
Such practices would inspire the creators of special objects such tallies and to-
kens in Comalcalco and Tikal burials.
Textual evidence offers the strongest case for tallies in Classic Maya account-
ing practices. The expression of “adding-up/putting-together the sticks” occurs
in the context of time-keeping, taxation, captive tribute or ransom, and mar-
riage arrangements. One of the terms for captives also potentially evoked tally
sticks. Small bundles of tally sticks are depicted in the scenes of Classic Maya
courtly life. These objects are usually tied to a headdress or placed in large plates
to be displayed along with other items indicating wealth and social status.
The presence of tally sticks has several important implications for our under-
standing of the Classic Maya economy. First, it broadens the context in which
we can identify display and use of accounting tools. It also implies that at least
some accounting practices were not restricted to the members of the literate
social class and/or to those versed in the prestige Hieroglyphic Mayan or Classic
Ch’olti’an language. Consequently, Classic Maya elites had potentially less con-
trol of the economic records compared to a scenario when all the transactions
were recorded exclusively in the codices.
One major question is the degree of standardization. The bundles of tallies
appear highly standardized in the scenes on Motul de San José (“Ik’ school”)
pottery. However, there is no comparable set of images from elsewhere. For
example, no stick bundles appear in the possible market scenes on Structure
Sub 14 in the North Acropolis at Calakmul. Yet the stick bundles are present in
the headdresses of some secondary (anaab?) officials in Room 3 and dignitaries

294 Alexandre Tokovinine

in Rooms 1 of Structure 1 at Bonampak (Miller and Brittenham 2013:184–185,
220–221). The tribute-givers in the scene on Tikal MT 67 have bundles of small
shells in their headdresses, much like the characters on Calakmul murals. Such
shell beads have been identified in the Classic Maya archaeological record as
potential monies (Freidel et al. 2016). So it is possible that tally sticks were one
of several ways of displaying and recording tribute/tax obligations.
Nevertheless, at least within the political and economic domain of Motul de
San José rulers, tally records of tribute or debt may have served as equivalents
of value as long as their owners were expected to get a similar amount of goods
or labor—after all, the word “loan” has a substantial time depth in Mayan lan-
guages (Tokovinine and Beliaev 2013:172–173). Yet such arrangements would
require a substantial amount of trust among all of the potential participants in
the transactions. It is unclear if compliance could be enforced. Any systemic
breakdown in trust would have been devastating, as it would instantly invali-
date large holdings of potential goods and services. The breakdown in trust has
already been highlighted as one of the sociopolitical factors in the so-called
Classic Maya collapse (Golden and Scherer 2013). Evidence of a trust-based
accounting system adds an additional dimension to that model.

Bundling the Sticks: A Case for Classic Maya Tallies 295