Off the Beaten Track
Today being Saturday, I had the chance to go off on another field trip led by our fearless leader Romeo from the language school. One other student joined me. We went to visit a little town up in the mountains from here called San Andreas Larrainzer.
First (with your patience), some background:
In 1994, the Zapatista guerilla army came down out of the mountains of Chiapas and took over the town of San Cristobal, with a considerable amount (if not overwhelming) support of the locals. Their charismatic leader was, and is, Subcomandante Marcos, he who usually appears in a black balaclava, smoking a stubby pipe. He calls himself the "sub" comandante because the slogan of the movement is: "the people give orders, the leaders obey." Well, at any rate, it makes good revolutionary rhetoric.
The Mexican government responded with a great deal of force, kicking the guerilla army out of San Cristobal. Marcos and his army fled to the mountains of Chiapas and jungles of Lacondonia where they remain today. The Bishop of San Cristobal, Samuel Ruiz, brokered a peace agreement in 1996 between the Zapatistas and the Mexican government. This agreement was signed in the pueblo of San Andreas which I visited today. Bishop Ruiz was subsequently awarded a Peace Prize by UNESCO. The agreement basically gave a certain amount of autonomy to the indigenous villages. A number of other promises were made by the government signatories which the government later reneged on. No surprise.
As we entered San Andreas in the mini-van (colectivo), there was a hilltop just before the town where the Mexican Army has a camp surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards. There, presumably, they can keep an eye on the town down below.
It was Saturday and, as luck would have it, the "city council" was meeting. These were the leaders of the pueblo. They sat on a couple of benches in the covered walkway in front of the "city hall." The average age was about 50. They wore their traditional native costume. Romeo told us it would be offensive to take a picture, so regrettably I don´t have any. They wore leather sandals, white pants, white shirts with a black tunic. On their heads they wore a white head band and on top of that a straw hat with many multi-colored ribbons (listones) coming off the hat. They had quite a presence and quite an air of authority.
One local approached them for what I assume was advice. We tactfully retreated out of earshot. First, he went to each of them, took off his own hat, bowed low, and one at a time they reached out and touched him on the forehead. Later, we saw the whole group walking slowly around the town square, looking like they were inspecting everything. All in all, I was impressed.
The church in San Andreas was similar to the one in Chamula. We sat down in the church courtyard outside where there were a number of families waiting, we concluded, for the priest to arrive to perform baptisms. One of the children, about 3, at the sight of the gringo lady and man, burst into tears and had to be comforted by his mother. We were the only palefaces in town that day and obviously the only ones he had ever seen and we scared him. Romeo called his older and braver brother over to us and we gave him a small bag of peanuts to share, thereby winning over the hearts and minds of one little boy and all his relatives. We probably accomplished more with that bag of peanuts than the US government does with its entire Latin American foreign aid program.
Being with Romeo was a blast. As we walked around town and down a street, he spied an older woman (looking 70 but probably younger than me) through an open doorway working on her "back-strap loom" (telar de cintura). She sat on the floor with the other end of her loom attached to the wall. The long threads were over a meter in length with at least 2 moving wooden paddles which she used to feed the thread and then ram it back down tightly. Romeo walked right in, said he had some gringos with him and would she mind having us watch?
Her name was Manuela. She beamed and invited us in. It was fascinating to watch her at work. We were there at least half an hour. She makes blouses, sweaters, handbags, tablecloths, etc., and then sells them to a merchant who brings them down to St. Cristobal for sale. I mentioned I had two granddaughters. She immediately had her granddaughter (great granddaughter?) model several blouses for me! Each blouse had an amazing amount of hand embroidery on it, representing days of work. I came away with two blouses and the gringa with me bought a carrying bag. I think we made her day, if not her weekend. She certainly made ours. Hasta luego!
First (with your patience), some background:
In 1994, the Zapatista guerilla army came down out of the mountains of Chiapas and took over the town of San Cristobal, with a considerable amount (if not overwhelming) support of the locals. Their charismatic leader was, and is, Subcomandante Marcos, he who usually appears in a black balaclava, smoking a stubby pipe. He calls himself the "sub" comandante because the slogan of the movement is: "the people give orders, the leaders obey." Well, at any rate, it makes good revolutionary rhetoric.
The Mexican government responded with a great deal of force, kicking the guerilla army out of San Cristobal. Marcos and his army fled to the mountains of Chiapas and jungles of Lacondonia where they remain today. The Bishop of San Cristobal, Samuel Ruiz, brokered a peace agreement in 1996 between the Zapatistas and the Mexican government. This agreement was signed in the pueblo of San Andreas which I visited today. Bishop Ruiz was subsequently awarded a Peace Prize by UNESCO. The agreement basically gave a certain amount of autonomy to the indigenous villages. A number of other promises were made by the government signatories which the government later reneged on. No surprise.
As we entered San Andreas in the mini-van (colectivo), there was a hilltop just before the town where the Mexican Army has a camp surrounded by barbed wire and armed guards. There, presumably, they can keep an eye on the town down below.
It was Saturday and, as luck would have it, the "city council" was meeting. These were the leaders of the pueblo. They sat on a couple of benches in the covered walkway in front of the "city hall." The average age was about 50. They wore their traditional native costume. Romeo told us it would be offensive to take a picture, so regrettably I don´t have any. They wore leather sandals, white pants, white shirts with a black tunic. On their heads they wore a white head band and on top of that a straw hat with many multi-colored ribbons (listones) coming off the hat. They had quite a presence and quite an air of authority.
One local approached them for what I assume was advice. We tactfully retreated out of earshot. First, he went to each of them, took off his own hat, bowed low, and one at a time they reached out and touched him on the forehead. Later, we saw the whole group walking slowly around the town square, looking like they were inspecting everything. All in all, I was impressed.
The church in San Andreas was similar to the one in Chamula. We sat down in the church courtyard outside where there were a number of families waiting, we concluded, for the priest to arrive to perform baptisms. One of the children, about 3, at the sight of the gringo lady and man, burst into tears and had to be comforted by his mother. We were the only palefaces in town that day and obviously the only ones he had ever seen and we scared him. Romeo called his older and braver brother over to us and we gave him a small bag of peanuts to share, thereby winning over the hearts and minds of one little boy and all his relatives. We probably accomplished more with that bag of peanuts than the US government does with its entire Latin American foreign aid program.
Being with Romeo was a blast. As we walked around town and down a street, he spied an older woman (looking 70 but probably younger than me) through an open doorway working on her "back-strap loom" (telar de cintura). She sat on the floor with the other end of her loom attached to the wall. The long threads were over a meter in length with at least 2 moving wooden paddles which she used to feed the thread and then ram it back down tightly. Romeo walked right in, said he had some gringos with him and would she mind having us watch?
Her name was Manuela. She beamed and invited us in. It was fascinating to watch her at work. We were there at least half an hour. She makes blouses, sweaters, handbags, tablecloths, etc., and then sells them to a merchant who brings them down to St. Cristobal for sale. I mentioned I had two granddaughters. She immediately had her granddaughter (great granddaughter?) model several blouses for me! Each blouse had an amazing amount of hand embroidery on it, representing days of work. I came away with two blouses and the gringa with me bought a carrying bag. I think we made her day, if not her weekend. She certainly made ours. Hasta luego!
posted by Garrett @ 3:23 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
Your blog is truly interesting. Its the first blog I've read and am also reading back "issues." Thanks for all the good information and your observations.
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