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Published: April 28th 2005
Bienvenidos
Al Caracol Torbellino de Nuestras PalabrasI´ve just returned to San Cristo after two weeks of human rights observation in a small zapatista community called K'ana Kil. What follows are excerpts from the journal I kept along the way...
13-04-05 miercoles en el Caracol Torbellino de Nuestras Palabras
Two women in impecable and bright garments met us at the gate. -¿Identificados? -Sí, nosotros somos de FrayBa, aquí es nos carta, y nos paseportas...we wait a few minutes...With a shiny sun and chirping birds, it was real nice there. I couldn´t understand all that was said in the officinas de la vigilencia (security) and la junta de buen gobierno (the Zapatista government), but I had perfect faith in our hosts, and the more advanced Spanish skills of my two companions. After about half an hour, we were settled into the campamento they have for observadores. I played football and basketball with kids, men and women.
A few words on the junta de buen gobierno: There was a mixed sense of strong consensus and unsuredness among the group. There were six or seven people, about equal in men and women, and all under thirty years old. It took them about four hours to approve of our visit
to Olga Isabel and K'ana Kil, and to return our passports. I learned that the entire "staff" of the Caracol rotates every week, as members must return to their homes and families. This explains a bit of the unsuredness in their bureaucratic roles. Nonetheless, this is truly autonomous government by the people. They do not depend on the whims of politicians, generals or capitalists.
About the kids here: They seem happy and healthy, and are not overly attached to their parents. They're eager to play sports with us.
14-04-05 jueves en el Municipio Autonomo de Olga Isabel
The Caracol gave a much different first impression than Olga Isabel. Now I can only write of the arrival process. Two men met at the road and didn´t really ask anything of us. -Somos observadores, campamentistos por la paz. -Si, bueno, here´s a shed you can sleep in. Un poco siesta, necesario after and early departure from Morelia.
There are signs here for a health clinic, library, and a store. Che and Emiliano are painted on the wall of the main building. If nothing else is happening, I'll get out my spanish textbook after a stroll.
Walked up into
K'ana Kil
A view with yours truly from the fields the community, saw a class of more than twenty niños, found the kitchen and latrinas, big basketball court. Cristoph just informed me that the large two storey building they're constructing is for processing coffee. We may leave any time. We are waiting for a member of K'ana Kil to accompany us to the community. Kick-ass dinner of rice, eggs, salsa, tortillas and seasonings. Happy coincidence that I brought a camp stove and Kristian brought a pot. We've yet to meet the authoridades municipal aqui. Sometimes we get the sense that we're not supposed to know everything thats happening in the community. Understandably, there could be some hestitance towards blind trust of outsiders. Again, the children here are very happy, and eager for sports. We played 6 on 6 basketball for about half an hour. I'm feeling really comfortable with my travel companions (Kristian of Denmark and Cristoph of Switzerland). I suppose its our common cause and shared environment that makes an angry disagreement seem quite unlikely.
Instant Poem:
We came from outside, and must be outside,
But we can catch greetings and smiles,
These are shared freely.
Words are just words without action behind them,
But I can say
Turkeys
Just a few of our friendly neighnours after a day that when a zapatista paints
Democracia - Libertad - Justicia
On a wall, they mean more than words can say.
And I see only from the outside,
But bring these ideas inside of me,
And I will radiate them in my communities...
I've taught the two to play 9-5-2. Our candlelight card match was something of a spectacle for some of our hosts.
15-04-05 viernes en Olga Isabel
A few new words: Spades=spadas, diamonds=diamentes, hearts=cupos o corazons, clubs=bastos. We just met Eric, an educador, and learned that there are 55 kids attending the school here. A lot more chicos than chicas. They live here for a month, then return home for fifteen days, then come back for another month.
I don't believe in poverty anymore. Take away greed and it disappears. Communities like this will redefine wealth. A full belly, some quality clothes, shelter, water, family and friends will be the foundations of democracy, liberty and justice. There is wealth in their smiles, conversations, comradery. They, as I, have hopes that their children will live better lives, spiralling through ancestral traditions and indefinite futures. True dat.
Our camp cooking is simple for us,
but seems tremendously complicated to the community. We go through a lot of trouble for a little bittle of food. They're feeding fifty to a hundred people three times a day with three or four pots and two fires. We're seperated from the community here, but developing a strong sense of equality between us three. Everything is shared, with the exception of my tobacco. I've offered...Doesn't look like we'll get to K'ana Kil tonight.
16-04-05 sabado en Chilon
Moments after I wrote that, a young girl named Blancaloos came to accompany us to Chilon. The plan is to sleep in a house that the community has there, and to go to K'ana Kil in the (this) morning. I slept hard on the cement floor. Got a couple good hours that'll get me through the day. My tummy's grumbling from hard food.
A bit about the municipal authorities in Olga Isabel: As I was about to leave our letter from the Caracol at the tienda (store), Cristoph came to say the authority's office was open, and we should give it to them. Good thing, because they wanted to talk to Blancaloos about our plan. I suppose they wondered why
Un Mapa
We didn't get lost. a young girl was sent for us. They spoke their native language, so we can't know what was said.
In Chilon last night: Blancaloos's father and uncle appear to have been drinking rather heavily. I'm reminded that our role as observers expressly excludes interfering with local practices, local matters. When we asked why we don't go to K'ana Kil tonight, they said we had to wait 'til a little later. A little later, they said it was too dark. Patience is a virtue...
In K'ana Kil in the afternoon: We've arrived. Our only instructions were to relax in the church, which will be our home for the next ten days. I've got my hammock up, we've moved around the tables and benches. Jesus and Mary live in the corner. Kids have been coming in to greet us, Ruben showed us to the river, the kitchen, I found the latrina on my own.
I refuse to feel guilty. I'm here for the safety and sustainability of the community. A bit of a bad mood from much travels and early mornings I suppose.
We're deep in the hills of Chiapas. It's now much easier for me to imagine
Las Milpas
Yup, those are the corn fields the lives of a huge proportion of the native peoples of Mexico. A bit on the economic situation here: They farm corn, beans and coffee. There is sufficient rain for one harvest a year. The corn was bad this year, and they've started buying it, having run out since their harvest in January. There are about 25 chickens and 5 turkeys running around. They sell eggs for one peso (10 cents) each. I don't know what they get for a chicken.
Some of the kids are coughing up mucus, none too pleasantly. I don't think they're in big trouble. What do I know?
17-04-05 domingo en K'ana Kil
Belly full of the K'ana Kil staples: tortillas, frijoles y cafe. Its worth mentioning that we've had no interactions with paramilitaries or oppressive government forces. The closest thing to a human rights abuse must be the relative poverty and illness of the community. These are systematic, and difficult to alleviate.
(two hours later) We've had our first interaction with the nearby guys with guns. While on our walk to the cornfields, me and Cristoph heard on gunshot. Ten minutes later, two of the kids ran over, telling us we'd
best get back to the community. We were to close to the paramilitary land, at a place on the hill where they can see us from their houses.
We've briefly discussed the definition of paramilitary, and loosely concluded that: They are armed, likely with the support of the government or federal army. The engage in military activities like shooting, patrolling, observation. They are different from military because they are not officially sanctioned, or acknowledged by the state. This allows them to engage in activities that might be impossible for a state force. Like observing and scaring a small farming community. They will exist here until a greater power changes the situation.
The community, and the reports from FrayBa tell us that there are six men (without women) who have lived about 0.5 kilometers away from K'ana Kil since 1995. The definitely have guns, and are definitely not an official representation of the Mexican Federal Army.
I've been having fairly crazy dreams lately. I saw Bob Marley live on to mastermind the biggest european dance music group of the eighties and nineties. Some native african imagery must have been sublimated through a photo in Kristians' book about a
And one of the three of us...
Kristian, Cristoph, and I on the right. Danish womans´ coffee farm in Kenya. If it weren't for a good dream, tossing and turning in my hammock would be much more frustrating.
18-04-05 lunes en K'ana Kil
We walked with Marco and another out to the road. We've just seen where the paramilitaries live in about four houses just beyond the cow pastures, between the community and the road to Chilon. The path is just under a kilometer long, exactly eleven minutes uphill with backpacks, by Kristians' timing.
19-04-05 martes en K'ana Kil
Yesterday I spent all of the afternoon and evening reading writings of Subcommandante Marcos, a leader and representative of the Ejercito Zapatista de Liberacion Nacional, and other essays and interviews from "The Zapatista Reader" (2002). Last was a most succinct lambasting of neoliberalism by Mr. Marcos. First was an interview with with he by Cambio/Gabriel Garcia Marquez. In between were the Declarations from the Lacondon Jungle. Naomi Klein wrote of why she had to be in Mexico City on March 11, 2001. What a suitable place to become much better informed of the history that is now in the Mexican Southeast...The paradox of an army that renounces power, masks that are said to be mirrors, that Don Quixote might be the best book out there on Political Theory..."Are you in agreement that gallant knighthood be added to the National Professional Registry?". Gotta learn Spanish. This country, this place, changes my life.
I didn't know before how focused was the EZLN uprising on removing the PRI from power. I didn't know how entrenched was the PRI system of the party-state. They usurped the national colours, rigged elections, made the federal army one of domestic occupation.
A wonderful lesson from Marcos and Old Antonio: "If you are in a fight, and you must choose strength or reason, choose reason. You can always draw strength out of reason, but rarely reason out of strength."
After yesterdays readings, I've a newfound respect, even awe for the people of K'ana Kil. How many were in Ocosingo, or San Cristobal in 1994? Which of them painted on the wall, "por todos, todos. Por Nosotros, nada" ("For everyone, everything. For us, nothing.")
Marco wrote to the mothers of the politically disappeared:
Mama Stone,
I don't know about the others, but we do not forget.
From your Zapatista daughters and sons.
And years gone by, a woman spoke in a native tongue:
"I don't know the government. I don't know what their palaces look like, but do their children sleep on the floor as ours do? Do helicopters come to terrify them?"
And an Eastern emporer said something like:
"Yours is no civilization, but a bright fire that burns to fast its fuel. Grow up, little brother."
And memory is a tree, planted yesterday to grow tomorrow.
20-04-05 miercoles en K'ana Kil
Neither of my fellow campamentistas believe in God. Neither are scientists. Both are humanists and environmentalists. I suppose they find enough beauty in the world to get up each morning, and I suppose they are content to think this world a fluke. I cannot deny the existance of some higher powers, nor the profound faiths of so many humans. And "no array of terms can say how at peace I am about God and Death". God as but a word, a sign of something great, and at most equal to Nature.
22-04-05 viernes en K'ana Kil
Not writing so much these last couple of days. Feeling a little tired of this un-busyness. Tomorrow I go to Chilon with a couple of people. The initial shock and awe here has worn off. I'm left with a feeling similar to after organic farm work last summer: Glad to know the community exists, hope that it can survive the huge obstacles it faces. Thought of how profound an effect the book "No More Prisons" (by Wimsatt) had on my life. Not fearing contact with poverty, hitch-hiking, appreciation for racial and cultural diversity. Gotta say, I'm much happier these days than that first year at McGill. Then again, my happiness is a coffee and a smoke.
"Soy Marcos" would be a great name for some radical tofu product.
23-04-05 sabado en K'ana Kil
More crazy dreaming: Woke up with my hammock tied to a parking sign and an ATM. City sounds and passers-by. Through hazy eyes, recognized a girl from a nearby hostel, politely ignoring my poor situation. Lying there in my underwear, I thought it might have been a good idea to sleep in my clothes.
"Are you in agreement that gallant knighthood be added to the National Professional Registry?" Still makes me chuckle...
Went to Chilon this morning. Ten people brought back 30 kilos of biodegradable soap, 20 kilos of salt, 100 kilos of corn, some medicine, some treats, various other little things. I got mayonaise, instant coffee, and cigarettes. I was called wero, and I didn't see any other white folk. The times I've felt most a part of the community have been through work: Salt on my shoulder up the hill, hoeing the new garden.
25-04-05 lunes en K'ana Kil
We leave tomorrow morning. There'll be no heartbreaking goodbyes. Mostly I'll bring memories of the kids, and tremendous empathy for their futures. Quite amazing how little effect the nearby paramilitary presence has on their mental well-being, though we've just learned that they do not go to the road, or to Chilon without campamentistas. That's a pretty serious limitation to their liberty.
We will return to the Caracol in Morelia for a night to report on the situation in K'ana Kil. Back to San Cristo the day after.
26-04-05 en el Caracol de Morelia
I guess their busy, but I don't much appreciate waiting two hours for the junta y vigilancia to hear the report that they asked for, and to let us move into the cabin. Oh well. Not my first lesson in patience.
27-04-05 en San Cristo
Shave, hot shower, finishing our report for FrayBa (the human rights centre here in the city). Thankful for the comfort that comes with being somewhere more than once. Bought an english newspaper today: Train wreck in Japan, Saudis may increase oil supply, American Humvees need more armour in Iraq...No news is good news.
I've just returned from our campamentista dinner, with Kristian, Cristoph, and three others we met at FrayBa and who went to another community. It certainly seems that we were lucky to have gone to a small community. Little differences like cooking in a familys' kitchen instead of one just for campamentistas.
28-04-05 Now is San Cristo
Well, that was that. You'll forgive the vast quantity if you made it this far. The last two weeks were big, and I hope I've reflected that. Hard to say what their overall effect'll be on my future. Time will tell I suppose.
From the Mexican Southeast,
Take 'er easy folks.
Observador Carlos
P.S. A Zapatista Campanyero found himself in a park in Mexico City, and watching a chess match between two smart and well-dressed men. Straining to understand the game they were playing, he constantly inquired why they moved as they did. This was much to the frustration of the players, trying to concentrate on their next move, winning their game, and not much interested in the grubby campanyero. After some more questions, some more silence, and thinking he had understood their game, he took off one of his muddy boots, slammed it on the board, and said "check?".
Marcos told that story to reflect the frustration of the Zapatistas, awaiting an invitation to adress the national Congress in Mexico City during their visit in 2001. Their muddy boots did get through the door eventually.
Vale.
Salud.
Adios.
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non-member comment
Coolio...
I love reading obout your trip, I can't wait to see pictures. - Sianna Smith