1 week ago:before
well there´s too much to say since last wrote, i´ve got a bit more into the culture of mexico i believe. from driving VWbugs round crazy little rubble villages, discovering clear water springs in the mangroves, exploring ancient mayan ruins deep in the jungle to my next and most exciting venture looming before me.
i am heading up to a small mountain town of indigenous people where you have to be interviewed for your intentions before entering the community. his process is a product of the zapatista movement, a liberation/political group who believe in standing for the rights of the indigenus people, focusing in chiapas (here, where i am). they are well recognized and have growing support, but they are a target for government propaganda and military attacks, there has been several massacres and people involved do have to be very careful.
so i hooked up with two crazy kids who need to make connections with the cooperatives setup in this zapatista zona. i´m so excited, at last i get to see what fair trade means and so many other issues that have barely graced my rapidly expanding view.
during
they sat there facing us, the 1st two men, dressed casually and the 3rd a women in her beautiful traditional garb, each of them wearing the symblic black balaclava, moving slightly with their facal expressions and representing the unity and solidarity of the movement.
the atmosphere when we arrived in the 2nd nterview hut was very tense, however after we said our part, stated our case and requested to stay in this place in order to learn the culture, struggle and history, it was clear to see the tension was produced by passion not hostilty. watching the eyes of the man, who spent much tme to explain to us the basic history of these hardworking and oppressed people, was a very moving and confusing experience3. the language acted as a frustration for me, however it wasn´t hard to understand the weight of the past and present situation on these people.
who was to be there, thats what they wanted to know, and i knew after all this that i was deeply privelidged, nt only to be allowed to experience and see first hand a little of this world and to learn from their pain and toil but also that my own life is so different, that i cannot ever fully understand.
stopped by the elements, mist fell like a parachute and crept into the room, and the rain began against the corrugated iron roof. for 30 minutes we sat in silence as it hammered away at the small wooden hut. the walls of which displayed slogans, banners, beautiful paintings of the surrounding people, the produce. che guevara to my right, zapatistas facelessly marching on my left.
it strikes me immediately that women are depicted differently here. the paintngs are of strong women; praying, marching and infront of me sits this women on the council which decides who can enter this community. i have rarely been looked at myself with this equality. my hear is still racing.
after
well the cold wet night passed and my head is still reelng at the process we went through yesterday. we sleep in a draughty ¨audotorium¨, i in a hammock and the crazy kids, who presented me with thisidea and oppurtunity, in a tent on a concrete platform. politely i decline when the one other person in there offers to share his tent, more fool me reflect as my feet begin to defrost around 9am, 3hours afer waking. note to self: never refuse to share tent with beautiful french men in the future.
so in the morning me, crazy kids and BFM, go to explore and visit the different cooperatives and organisations that have drawn us here. the response was somewhat disappointing after the grilling and time we had yesterday, plus acquirng written autorisation today, noone wants to speak to us for various reasons and we return somewhat disheartened to our barn for a brunch of refred beans, canned peas and tomatoes.
every bulding is painted with strikng images, the one that keep returning to is the suprised looking women with the flowng blue hair, i remain puzzling her signifcance for this place and myself.
for now i return to similar internal struggles as i have encountered many times before.
¿where do you start and where do you stop?
these people speak comercio justo (fair trade) and the importance of organic corn, aswell as the empowerment invoice and work of the indiginous people but they sell cocacola and all other commercial products, they stand to campaign , represent and educate , yet those wh show interest and share passion for these very issues are snubbed.
the movement, the righteousness of the cause/goal is not spoilt for me but i am reminded of their humanity and my own and while sit and assess and criticuse others, i see my own carelessness and defeatism and it is encouraging to know i have learned this lesson here and experienced somethng totally unique.
