Update on the campo by Callie

Welcome back to our blog! I forgot to introduce myself the last time I wrote about our time in Tapachula. I’m Callie Thompson, a Peace and Global Studies major at Earlham College. I’m from Louisville, Kentucky and unlike the rest of the group, this travel seminar marks my first experience in Mexico! Tomorrow we are off to another campo experience, this time to San Lorenzo Victoria, Oaxaca, which we have been told will be very different from our previous campo experience in San Caralampio. Last week, Riley wrote an entry about San Caralampio and the struggles it has faced as a community in light of NAFTA and after years of losing more and more of its sons and daughters to migration. Before we leave for our next campo experience, I’d like to reflect some more on our time in San Caralampio and introduce you to some of the amazing families we met.

When we arrived to San Caralampio, we were greeted by several of our host family members. The houses we stayed in for those two days were made of different materials depending on whether the family had children in the US sending home remittances or not. Don Flavio, for example, receives no remittances. In his home, sheets instead of solid walls section off rooms. Doña Julia and Don Candido, however, have two sons in the states and, therefore, have been able to afford two brick additions to their home among other purchases, such as a tractor.

One afternoon, Don Candido sat with us on the porch and pointed at all of the things that his sons’ remittances bought. Then he described the day his first son left for the States. He said it was too painful to watch him leave so instead, he grabbed his hat and went to his cornfields to escape. He hasn’t seen that son for ten years, his other for seven, and now his youngest is thinking of migrating for the second time. As the border becomes harder to cross, migrants end up staying in the US for good, fearing that leaving to visit home will mean they may never be able to successfully cross again.

Despite the holes left by those who have had to leave to support their aging parents and young children, the community remains strong in its resistance to selling its ejidos (communally owned land). Although the majority of crop profits are swept up by big businesses, the campesinos continue harvesting, though unsure of whether their corn will sell that year or not. They have continued raising cattle and selling even when the market prices are down. They are even trying to create their own organic fertilizer to replace the expensive ones that they were manipulated into using back in the 80s, which made their land chemical-dependent. These forms of resistance were inspiring to us. Overall, we were blown away by the strength and work ethic of the community members.

Miriam's reflections on the group's emotional visit to Acteal

On our second day in San Cristóbal, we visited the massacre site, Acteal. Acteal is a small Tsotsil indigenous village that is a few hours outside of San Cristóbal. On December 22, 1997, 45 indigenous men, women, and children were brutally killed by paramilitary groups in their small village. The massacre became an internationally known tragedy. Acteal is the base for the social movement of the Abejas (The Bees). The Abejas are an indigenous group who lobbies for basic human rights for the indigenous people of Chiapas. Much like the Zapatistas, they believe that the land that they live on belongs to them and not the government or private companies and that healthcare, education, and food are not luxuries but basic human rights of which are not being fulfilled. As a political group, The Abejas are aligned with the causes and the work of The Zapatistas but remain a separate entity because they do not believe in taking up arms. They declare themselves to be a pacifist, peaceful, and faith based organization. Their name itself comes from the idea that bees are animals that organize but still have a queen. They say that their queen is god.

As you drive down the twisty roads through the Chiapas mountains, Acteal is marked by a sculpture named the pillar of shame, which was created by a Danish artist. As a memorial to those killed in the massacre, casts of faces and bodies of different ages tower on top of each other, making a clear mark on the landscape. Next to it, a large banner reads, ¨Montes Azules: No se vende nuestra tierra, agua, biodiversidad, el petroleo, son nuestros! (Don’t sell our land, water, biodiversity, petroleum, they’re ours!). Immediately you feel that you are standing in a place that has been through incredible struggle.

We had the incredible privilege to meet with some of the leaders of the Abejas. We sat in their headquarters, which is a small wooden room that is covered with posters about peace and in memorial of the men and women and children who were brutally killed just twelve years ago. They recounted the story of the massacre for us despite it clearly being a painful experience for them. Paramilitary soldiers attacked the small town of about 200 people one morning in December while many were gathered in the church praying. When the gunshots were heard, many tried to escape into the mountains and hide behind banana trees. Until sunset that evening, soldiers continued the attack with what they described to us as a rainfall of bullets. Because the surrounding area is scattered with Zapatista autonomous villages, there are many Mexican military bases close by. Despite this, no help came to Acteal for hours.

It was very clear that this massacre, this slaughter of 45 men, women, four of whom were pregnant, and children, was not an accident. Most believe that the government targeted Acteal in an effort to crush the Zapatista movement, with the understanding that Acteal was the headquarters of the Abejas movement. This was regardless of the fact that the Abejas has always been, and declared themselves as, a peaceful group. The government has taken no responsibility for the massacre and very few who took part in the planning and execution of the attack have been brought to justice.

It is incredibly important to note the United State’s role in this event. The massacre implemented low intensity warfare tactics learned at the School of the Americas, and in addition, the US has poured countless tax dollars into training and equipping the Mexican military. Some of the Abejas leaders brought us to the old church where their people were praying when the attack begin, the bullet holes in the wooden walls remain there. The community has since built a new, cement church. A large mural of the face of Jesus sits on the facade. The crosses, photographs, and plaques that are placed throughout Acteal and serve as a memorial to the lost loved ones cannot be ignored. Because Acteal is so small and so insular, during our meeting with the Abejas and our walk through Acteal you could feel the scar and pain from the massacre even though it’s been twelve years since the atrocity. In our meeting, The Abejas told us that despite their pain and struggle, they continue to work for peace and the rights of their people. It was incredible to see this sadness and oppression be transformed into such a forceful energy and strength to do good and to continue to work for peace.

The group arrives in San Cristóbal de las Casas

We arrived from the Campo to San Cristóbal this past Tuesday, and since then we have had an exhausting but fascinating week meeting with different organizations, exploring the city, and getting sick. Our first day we got up early to meet with an organization called the Center for Economic and Political Research and Community Action (CIEPAC). We sat spellbound for three hours as Miguel Pickard explained the role of his organization in carrying out research on how economic policies and projects in Chiapas impact local communities. He had an incredible way of tying together much of what we’ve been learning about migration, the drug wars, US economic policy and militarization, and we all left having had numerous ‘light bulb’ moments as pieces fell into place in our minds.
That afternoon, in preparation for the next day’s trip to Acteal, we met with a group (The Human Rights Center Fray Bartolome de las Casas), which carries out research and provides legal support on many human rights abuse cases committed against citizens by the Mexican police, military and paramilitary groups. Through the discussion we learned about the tragedy that occurred in Acteal in 1997 where paramilitaries massacred 45 people (mostly women and children), and, to this day, the community still awaits justice to come to the perpetrators of the massacre. Within the tragedy we must acknowledge the role the United States played, as many of the tactics the paramilitaries were using were acquired at military schools in the US such as School of the Americas. Given the amount of US military aid pouring into Mexico at the time, it would not be surprising if the arms used in the massacre were paid for with US taxpayer money. Military aid is still on its way to Mexico in the Security and Prosperity Plan of North America, proposed by President Bush, allowing for the likelihood of more atrocities, like Acteal, to be carried out in the future.
Although we spent the afternoon learning about Acteal, it did nothing to prepare us for the emotions we would feel upon arriving to the site. The Pillar of Shame, a totem of human misery to commiserate December of 1997, greeted us as we unloaded from the van. Walking through a massacre site that had taken place within our lifetime was so strange and overwhelming. I kept thinking back to this penny activity we’d done on the first day of Heather’s class in which we’d been handed a penny and had to say what had happened to us in the year the penny was made. What had that coppery 1997 meant to me? To the community I was walking through?
It was so empowering to meet with the Abejas to see how, in the face of such a tragedy, the community had fought back (non-violently) and had continued its resistance by declaring itself an autonomous community and by not receiving government aid.

From Tapachula to San Caralampio -- update from Riley

Tapachula was a powerful experience for everyone, and they said that it made the border in the north seem so much clearer and the walls so much higher. I gained a new appreciation for what Central Americans endure to arrive in the US and felt nothing but awe for the people making that journey.
After Tapachula we went on to spend 3 days in San Caralampio, an ejido that was established in the 1930s and whose small farmers have grown corn there for decades. Not only were the people wonderful to be with, they also told us many stories about how their livelihoods have been affected by NAFTA and corn imports, while their families and communities are severely impacted the high number of people migrating north. During a meeting with 25-30 youth from the community, mainly teenagers, all of them knew somebody in the US, several had already worked in the US, and a majority planned to migrate there in the future. We were certainly able to see how difficult it was for community leaders to organize in light of the emigration of young men and women, and how family, culture, and tradition were being uprooted by current economic models.

Next stop: Tapachula --Casa Belen and Padre Flor

We took a flight to Chiapas from Mexico City on Friday and were greeted by Julio, our driver and our new favorite person. He drove us to Tapachula, a city near the border between Guatemala and Mexico. Upon entering the city, we were approached by a young man missing both forearms. He approached our group with a donation bag, which held with his elbows. Julio said that he had most definitely lost his arms to the trains that many migrants catch to make their way through Mexico. (Each time we visited the city, we saw many people with missing limbs, asking for money.) That first day, we went shopping for food to bring to the migrant shelter called Casa Belen where we would stay for two nights. Riley went to find water jugs and met us back at the van, arriving in style in the passenger seat of a huge semi truck full of water jugs. It was a big day for Riley.

When we arrived to Casa Belen, we were greeted by Padre Flor, the founder of Casa Belen and a Scalabrini priest who has received international recognition for his human rights work. Padre Flor is a small, barefoot, Italian man with a huge personality. His wears a long white robe and has a long white beard. He wears a large cross tucked into his belt (which someone once said is like a weapon in its holster). During our stay we had two long talks with Padre Flor in which he described his history, the history of immigration, and what sustains him in this difficult line of work. He told us many stories of the people he sees come through the shelter and says that people are forced to make up reasons to have faith and to persevere. During mass, he reminded everyone that their dignity as human beings is not determined by documents. Several migrants took communion, and as Miriam put it, it was very moving to see people take communion as if
to carry with them not only Jesus but also beauty and comfort on their long journey.

We ate meals with the migrants and if I could, I would retell the names and stories of everyone we met. Instead I’ll introduce Antonio, a young guy from El Salvador who had started his journey the day before we sat down with him at dinner. Throughout dinner he would look away, and I noticed his eyes welling up with tears. When the rest of the men left the table, he told us how much he hated to eat because he could not help but think of his 2 kids who wake up not knowing if they will eat that day. He has a 10 year old and a 9 year old who has
Downs Syndrome. He told us how nice it was to eat with us and thanked us for being kind. For Jessye, it was painful to know that he believed in the kindness of others and that such a sacred faith in humanity would probably not survive his journey to the States.

At night, we slept in rooms designated for human trafficking victims in bunk beds donated by USAID. It was strange to sleep in the beds where other women our age had fallen asleep with vastly different thoughts, realities, and nightmares that we could never understand. While moving into the shelter for 2 days and living with migrants has given us new insight that books and articles never could, we all know there is still much to learn and much to see before we can begin to understand the struggle to live that men and women face as transborder migrants.

First stop: Mexico City. Contextualizing the roots of migration.

Hello, my name is Vivian Gentry. I go to Oberlin College in Ohio and am originally from Chicago. Despite my Chicago roots, I’ve spent a good chunk of my life in Mexico City. My mother moved from Mexico City to Chicago around 1980, so our family has frequently gone back to visit. I’ve had a chance to see Mexico City through my family’s eyes –what their daily life is like. On this trip, however, I’ve had the chance to see it in a very different light. First, by where our group stayed. An international hostel right off the Zocalo, or main square, is definitely not what I’m used to. In addition to the location still foreign to me after all these years, through the Border Studies Program I was able to see the city in a completely different way –one that I know I’ll explore further in the future.
In our time there, we went to the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de Mexico to talk with professors and students on the campus mall about Mexico’s economy and external debt. We also visited museums that taught us not only about Diego Rivera’s murals and their historical context, but also about student movements within Mexico. Frida, our wonderful guide, was able to give us a very full history of the student movements of the late 1960s as well as those between 1999 and 2000 through both her personal experiences as well as those of her family and friends. Their stories were very important to understand how the government’s view of students is applied today.
We also went to a press conference for the release of a book, which documents how Walmart has abused Mexico’s people economically, physically, and mentally. After the conference we had the privilege to meet with the director of PRODESC, the Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights Project, who participated in the investigation and writing of this book. The organization does amazing work throughout the country, and we were all completely impressed and humbled by the work they’ve already done.
Looking back, our time in Mexico City was very useful in navigating the rest of the country’s economic structure, and understanding how policies have been implemented, especially here in Chiapas, where I’m writing this entry. I’m glad to have had the chance to see Mexico City in a new way. Going back now is going to be so much more exciting than just a family trip. Frida, our guide, and all the people we spoke with truly have enriched my understanding of the massive city that is Mexico City, D.F.