An Insurgent Independance Day in Oventik

From San Cristobal de las Casas we drove an hour up through the highlands of Chiapas towards the Zapatista Caracol of Oventik. We wound back and forth through a Mexico few have ever seen or heard of. Slender mountain peaks jutting above blankets of soft mist surrounding small plots of squash, beans and corn. Women carrying bails of alfalfa for their sheep, wrapped in wool shawls to protect against a chilling breeze.
On the way our professor told us that should we be stopped by the police, we should all forget that we speak spanish, for it would be best if we just didn't speak at all. We were, afterall, going to a community that explicitly denies the authority of all external governing bodies associated with the state of Mexico. Upon arrival at the caracol ("snail" in spanish) we were welcomed by a sign that reads "Zapatista Autonomous Rebel Teritory: Here the people rule and the government obeys". We were asked to surrender our passports ans step out of the van into a dimly lit little room in which three Zapatista authorities sat, faces covered with either a black ski-mask or a red bandanna. After taking down some information we were directed to another room where the process was repeated.
Our dorms are rustic cabins with wooden-plank bunks (think shelves for humans), adorned with beautiful murals all celebrating the Zapatista message and spirit. In fact, every building in the Caracol is nearly covered in beautiful mrals, painted by visitors from all over the world.
"Caracol" is the spanish word for snail. Oventik is called a caracol because it is a center for government, health, education and culture for many surrounding Zapatista Communities. The only people who live at the caracol itself are about 150 secondary school students and their ten or so "promotores". The caracol is one of five in Chiapas, and serves as a point of encounter and intersection between the Zapatistas and the world at large. Thus the image of the spiral shaped snail shell is not an accident. We are fortunate enough to be staying at the language center, which holds classes in spanish and the mayan language Tzotzil.
My first morning there I awoke to the sunrise and a thick mist retreating from the valleys. It was the 15th of September, the first day of celebration of Mexican Independance from Spain. The caracol celebrated by having a basketball tournament, followed by a parade, assembly and dance.
Eight of the girls in our group, including myself, formed a team, "las rebeldes", and entered the tournament. We were royally dominated by five little girls. They were shorter, faster and all wearing cheap plastic sandals. One even played in her traditional long, colorful skirt. They wore us out running up and down the court- though to our credit we were not used to the 7,200ft elevation.
After lunch the parade begain. Dark clouds rolling in eluded to violent weather to come, but the parade would go on despite. Students of all ages, from four to twenty four, marched in groups, all wearking masks or bandannas. The skies unleashed and they continued to march through the pouring, cold rain behind their flag, which was accompnied by the Mexican national flag. They chanted the names of those who fought against the Spanish, against dictators and against neoliberal globalization. They chanted viva Mexico! Viva Chiapas! Viva el EZLN! Viva los caracoles! Viva los municipios Autonomos! Viva Ramona! Viva Zapata! Viva!
For over an hour they marched and chanted, through the mist and chilling rain, reminding us all of the sacrifices which must accompany any struggle against a dominating world system.
After a class on Marxism and then dinner, we all headed up to the suditorium where a masked woman recounted the struggles for liberty, justice and land of their fore-fathers, starting with the war for independance gainst the Spanish conquistadors. She recounted the subsequent struggle of the indigenous, and how they were largely if not completely forgotten. She told of Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata's popular struggle for land and justice. Even though they were able to wrestle power out of the hands of the oppressive dictator, he was replaced by an equally power-hungry ruler, and the poor and indigenous peoples Mexico continued to be ignored and forgotten.
But then they began to organize against their oppressors, with many movements culminating in the surprise uprising on 1/1/94 when the EZLN took back the land that they needed to survive. The masked woman reminded us that the struggle continues to this day, and that it is up to the Zapatista youth to follow in the footsteps of those before them in the struggle for humanity and against neoliberal globalization.
One of the most poignant things I have heard during my brief stay there was this: The Zapatista resistance is not something new. It begain the day that Christopher Columbus landed in the Americas, and it will continue on until we live in a world where everyone can live lives of dignity.

San Cristobal de las Casas (poem)

San Cristobal de las Casas

A lingering Struggle
Hangs like the fog
In the morning air.

It’s hard to see
Or hear
For there are no more bombs falling
Or boots marching.

Hunched and wrinkled indians sell figurines
Of their liberators
The EZLN.

Here one can purchase
Their own little piece
Of the revolution.

25 pesos for a beer at Café Revolucion
on Avenida Insurgente
across from the Burger King.

San Cristobal de las Casas

San Cristobal de las Casas is a city of staggering beauty, anciently complex history and exploding political tension. Wandering her streets one will find all on the same block barefoot elderly Mayan women selling handcrafts, a Burger King, a makeshift bike-powered taco stand, a man selling lychees, a bakery and a bar called “Café Revolucion”. Buildings are painted brightly and illuminated by lights at night. The local fare is delicious and cheap.
I can see why so many “politically minded” foreigners flock here (myself included). This city is the cultural center of the state of Chiapas, where in 1994 the Zapatista National Liberation Army came down from the mountains and reclaimed land for thousands of indigenous peasants. The city is home to a fleet of NGOs who are working with the Zapatistas to ensure their longevity and continued liberation. The sense of change, of reclaiming dignity, of revolution, is enough to lift you off your feet and carry you away at times. Enough to make you never want to return to your life at the university or behind a desk at an NGO. Here things are happening… right now. Things that awaken in us all the affirmation of life and freedom and dignity and the rejection of all that limits and oppresses us.
The smell of hard-won liberation wafts through the air, so that one can’t help but want to be a part of it. It’s everywhere- Indigenous women’s collectives, radical info-shops and an independent cinema. Marcos T-shirts and EZLN commando boots. The tourist market is filled with beautiful handcrafts being sold by mostly indigenous women and men adorned in their traditional colorful dress.
But a small scratch under the surface reveals an entirely different world. The city is wrought with racism. Those who are sympathetic to the rebellion are equally matched in number by ultra conservative evangelicals sympathetic to the PRI, which also runs the local government. The tourist market is dominated by one specific indigenous community that has very close ties to the PRI, and those who have stalls there are the most wealthy even of that community. Most of the items for sale there are not handmade by the vendors but shipped from Guatemala where they were produced in factories. There is a reason why one will only find tourists and hustlers at Café Revolucion.
Revolution is seductive. We all feel the inherent idiocy and destructiveness of the current system for the few and against the many. We all know in our hearts that “to be” is much more than just “to have”. We all feel the alienation from our work, our neighbors, ourselves. We all feel that there must be something of value other than gaining for gaining’s sake.
But what is there to do?
I have come here, like hoards before me, to attempt to answer that very question. The answer is not at café Revolucion nor the infoshop selling Marcos shirts. It’s not even in books like “Pedagogy of the Oppressed” or Marx’s “Capital”. Perhaps I will find some clues at my next destination: The Zapatista Caracol at Oventik.

Salutations!

So this is the first entry in my new blog, which is intended to relay communiques about my coming semester studying social movements in Mexico. I am relatively new to blogging, and so I apologize if I abuse the established formats and social graces of this medium. I figure it is a good skill to have, and also allows me to keep interested people updated on my travels. I am also trying to hone my writing skills, so forgive me for using this as practice space. Any and all critique or input is highly encouraged.
The program I will be participating in is run by the Mexico- U.S. Solidarity Network, and is accredited through the Metropolitan Autonomous University in Mexico. We will be traveling to San Cristobal de las Casas and Oventic , both Zapatista Territory in the state of Chiapas. We will also be traveling to Tlaxcala, Mexico City and Ciudad Juarez.
The program is perfect for what I am studying in school, which I describe as revolutionary politics and social theory. I am fortunate enough to be able to design my own interdisciplinary undergrad major at Appalachian State University.
I have long been fascinated by the Zapatistas and their struggle for autonomy and liberty in Mexico and beyond. I’ll spare you an explanation of their movement and instead direct you to the Wikipedia article about them, though it is in no way comprehensive. Suffice to say that in my opinion theirs is one of the most unique and successful revolutionary movements currently in progress. For the overly curious reader, I have written an essay on the Zapatistas and the permaculture movement and their place in radical politics today. It is a bit rough on the edges and needs much fine tuning, but in essence sums up my current ideas about what a successful revolutionary movement should look like. You can read it here.
My main focus in the area of revolutionary politics and social theory is identity. Not necessarily identity politics, but more so how individual and group identity influence social movements towards liberation. Again, I'll post more on this later.
So basically I am journeying to Mexico to study revolutionary social movements, not as simply a subject of interest to me, but as a subject that is foundational to my existential reality. I want to be on the front lines, wherever that may be. I want to be a part of the revolutionary project for human liberation which is currently unfolding. My time in Mexico will be spent analyzing movements there with the intention of one day applying lessons learned to movements here in the United States. For though this country has become a gross bastardization of its founding principles it is still my home, and the place that I know best. Therefore it is the place where I can be the most relevant in terms of revolutionary social movements.
So, needless to say, the rest of my posts will be on the topics of radical activism, revolutionary social movements, liberation, autonomy and, especially, identity within such subjects.
That’s all for now… over and out.