archivi delle proteste globaliarchives of global protestsBRIEF TESTIMONY ON THE INTERCONTINENTAL ENCOUNTER FOR HUMANITY AND AGAINST NEOLIBERALISM, CHIAPAS, MEXICO 27 JULY-AUGUST 3, 1996
Where to start? I pick up, as Julio Cortazar would say, the handkerchief by one of its corners, and wait to see what happens...
I had applied, and been accepted to table 3, dealing with culture, communications, education...I'm interested in politics but not as much as I am in art and all its cultural expressions...Plus I am aware of the very important role communications played in spreading the Zapatista word...
I knew that by not choosing politics I was sacrificing a unique opportunity of seeing Subcommander Marcos in action at close range, since everyone knew he would be in La Realidad because of security reasons, but, after all, I had come to an EZLN encounter not to an encounter exclusively with Marcos...
It was my fifth visit to the Zapatista zone in Chiapas, so, unlike those who were there for the first time, I had good contacts in the area. Nonetheless, I was impressed by the fact everyone was treated equally, newcomers and "old" comers. In many ways, being a sort of "sharpshooter" I usually get the wrong side of the stick...Organizers never know quite well where to put us, which might help explain how I ended up travelling to Morelia under the only leak on the bus, or fighting not to be swamped by tons of backpacks everytime the bus skidded or hit a bump on the road to La Realidad, being, as I was, sitted all the way in the back of the bus, in a tiny space we managed to clear between the luggage.
But the miracle took place! In the midst of the rain and the mud, the miracle happened!
After a long walk and a long backpack search diligently done by Zapatista women's hands (in my case) I finally arrived in front of Oventic's impressive outdoor amphitheater, built my Maya hands, present day Maya hands...
I proceeded to set up my tiny tent right next to the amphitheater while I heard the welcome given to hundreds of delegations, from all over the globe...
Then, camera, video and tape recorder in hand I set up to walk around the bull ring as it were...Meeting old friends along the way...Teenagers I spent weeks with in the Peace camps of many a Zapatista community...watching Eduardo Galeano (whom I would later meet, in San Cristobal) from afar, surrounded by a multitude of people...The most striking sight being that of the representatives of various indigenous communities, patiently putting up with our insatiable curiosity (and admiration at their beautiful garb.)
Thanks to a friend, I got a front row seat...Then came the arrival of the Comandantes, women and men, and the lights went off so we could see the approaching base communities carrying torches who walked towards us accompanied by the sound of Indian musicians...Silence prevailed and the mist, which always surrounds Oventic, helped to create an atmosphere reminiscent of Remedios Varo's paintings.
Commander Ana Maria's reading of the EZLN's welcoming speech signed by Subcommander Marcos was one of the highlights of the entire event.
Those of us who had signed for "Table 3" left for Morelia the next day. I had never been to Morelia, that lovely misty community with a brand new" Aguascalientes" with its Nerudian atmosphere of wood scented buildings, its shy and smiling children and an unforgettable Comandante Zebedeo who didn't hesitate to call a spade a spade when, on one occasion, he reminded us that our very "sophisticated" discussions did not resemble their deliberations. Ours were "rollos" (boring non pragmatic texts.)
We did, however, accomplish something. Our table (3A) came up with the idea of the International Red of Hope (the name was proposed by the Basks), and you can read what every table came up with in the Zapatista WEB pages.
At Morelia we were privileged, since we were surrounded by artists of all sorts. Musicians, singers, actors, painters...Lourdes Perez, a new Puertorican Mercedes Sosa...Incredible voice and alot of guts. Peruvian yaravies sung by a Peruvian Indian whose first language is Quechua and who was given exile in France...Medieval songs sung in the angelical voice of a Belgian young girl, Botellita de Jerez, I'm sure everyone remembers, the International we all sang along with the marvelous Italian group...The improvisations of the contingent from the Canary Islands, the Chicano theater skits...and on and on and on...Lots of dancing too, every night until 3:00 A.M.
Of course, the most important protagonists of our stay in Morelia were the people from Morelia who fed us, put up with us, guarded us and with whom I established, I hope, an ongoing contact...
The trip to La Realidad for the closure of the event was long, but, on board of my bus, notwithsatnding where I sat, we were lucky to have an incredible Argentinian young woman on board. Andrea had spent time in the jails of Argentina's military dictators and is a spokesperson for the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (two of whom were with us during the whole week, one being Hebe de Bonafini). Thanks to Andrea we sang our way to La Realidad where we finally arrived, after dark and in a sea of mud...
La Realidad for me, this time, was shaking hands with Subcommander Marcos as he stepped down from his horse and I readied myself for washing my teeth...It was Daniel Viglietti's songs, the merciless sun, singing "Bella chau" for the hundredth time, talking to Commander Tacho, urging a friend to go deliver her beautiful drawings inspired by Marco's texts to the "Sup" (who thanked her in writing). Organizing, sitting, singing...Remembering for ever the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and Rosario Ibarra de Piedra sitting next to Marcos and the other women and men Zapatista Comandantes on the forum...Seeing a free Javier Elorriaga give lost and found messages over the mike...And so many other things I keep for a better written not so hectic text...
My overwhelming thanks go, of course, to the communities who welcomed us and to the members of Mexico's civil society who were able to bring about the dream of a poet...Who would have thought, but three years ago that what all of us witnessed in Chiapas this summer could have come abou?...But it did...And oh! what a joy it was. L.
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