Questions & Swords

On the Seventh Anniversary of the Zapatista Uprising Subcommandante Marcos and Comandante David wrote:

Indigenous Brothers and Sisters of Mexico:
In this, the seventh year of the war against oblivion, we repeat who we are.
We are wind, we are. Not the breast that breathes for us.
We are word, we are. Not the lips which speak to us.
We are steps, we are. Not the foot that moves us.
We are heartbeat, we are. Not the foot that moves us.
We are a bridge, we are. Not the lands that form a union.
We are road, we are. Not the point or arrival or departure.
We are place, we are. Not those who occupy that place.
We do not exist, we are. We only are.
Seven times we are. Seven times we are.
We are the reflection, we are.
The hand that just opened the window, we are.
We are the timid knock at the door of tomorrow.

So begins the amazing Questions and Swords: Folktales of the Zapatista Revolution. Once again, Subcomandante Marcos and the incomparable Don Antonio color our minds, hearts and souls with their beautiful folktales. Don Antonio tells of Votan Zapata, a story of water winning over sword and the story of questions with such simple beauty and grace that they pack a powerful punch. The artwork of Domitila Dominguez, the indigenous Oaxacan woman is luminous, primitive and astounding.

With essays by Native American poet Simon Ortiz and the incomparable Elena Poniatowska, Mexico’s grande dame of letters, the book is a revolution that you hold in your hands. It teaches, it entertains, it enlightens. Once again, Cinco Puntos Press and the Colectivo Callejero have worked together to bring these powerful works, our history to the light.

Bitter Grounds by Sandra Benitez

A week ago, I finished Bitter Grounds by Sandra Benitez for the second time in five years. The book is an epic story spanning three generations of women from two families, one rich and the other poor. It is more than just the story of these two families, it is the story of the brutal massacre of indigenous people, the story of the conflict and bloody history of El Salvador, the battles of rich and poor, of tradition , against so called progress.

The women in this story are strong, determined, vibrant survivors. There is love here between mothers and daughters, sisters and friends. There is betrayal and anguish, the loss of children, loss of life, loss of a way of life. Ms. Benitez speaks eloquently of El Salvador’s beauty and the brutality against the indigenous. I ached when I read of the massacre. I cried bitter tears when the melodic language of the Pipil was silenced and when I read that they had given up their beautiful rainbows of color in their indigenous dress so as not to attract the attention and brutality of the Guardia.

At times, this book was so brutal in it’s truth; the violence and death were so senseless that I had to put it down for a day or two just to get past it. I wanted to hate the rich family that made their money on the backs of indigenous workers picking their coffee, working their fields but Ms. Benitez made them so human, so likeable that it was hard to find a villain. I sympathized and agonized with both. I wanted to stop things, make them see the inevitable disaster and got so involved with the story that I felt I was there. To be so involved in a book is a blessing no matter how hard the subject matter. Sandra Benitez is such a wonderful storyteller that for the days I read this book and long after, it absorbed me and changed me. It made me think. It made me want more. It made me educate myself more about El Salvador and its history.

How many books can do that? How many books can you retain so much of for such a long time? The second reading was just as hard to digest. Brutality, violence, terror, war and injustice aren’t meant to be easy. It is, after all these years just as hauntingly beautiful as when I first read it. Maybe more so now than before. I remain torn between the families, torn by the violence and injustice, want to work harder than ever for social change, for promoting peace and tolerance, more motivated than ever to protect my culture, my native language, the costumes my family wears for our Aztec dances, our traditions. I don’t know what else I can say about this book other than to encourage everyone to read it. It’s not some new buzz book – the publication date on my old copy is 1998 but look it up, buy it, borrow it, read it. Don’t leave it in the darkness of some old library shelf. It deserves much better.

Shadows of Tender Fury

This is the first collection of letters and communiqués by Subcomandante Marcos, that mysterious masked spokesperson of the Zapatista Rebellion. These communiqués were published first in La Jornada, the Mexican daily newspaper. The communiqués are meant to educate the masses to the plight of the indigeous people Chiapas.

The book contains the first four declarations of the Lancandon Jungle and the credo of the EZLN (Ejercito Zapatista Liberacion Nacional) or the Zapatista National Liberation Army. I feel that the first paragraph from the First Declaration, written in January of 1994, gives a great feel for what the book contains and says it all in a nutshell.


From the First Declaration of the Lancandon Jungle
The EZLN’s Declaration of War:

TO THE PEOPLE OF MEXICO:
MEXICAN BROTHERS AND SISTERS:

We are a product of 500 years of struggle: first against slavery, then during the War of Independence against Spain led by insurgents, then to avoid being absorbed by North American imperialism, then to promulgate our constitution and expel the French empire from our soil, and later the dictatorship of Porfirio Diaz denied us the just application of the Reform laws and the people rebelled and leaders like Villa and Zapata emerged, poor men just like us. We have been denied the most elemental preparation so they can use us as cannon fodder and pillage the wealth of our country. They don't care that we have nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a roof over our heads, no land, no work, no health care, no food nor education. Nor are we able to freely and democratically elect our political representatives, nor is there independence from foreigners, nor is there peace nor justice for ourselves and our children.

But today, we say ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

This book is even more pertinent and necessary now in 2005 then in 1994. We have become jaded and less informed about the struggle in Mexico. How many people realize that still the Zapatistas fight on? With the war in Iraq, the tsunami in Thailand and other world events in the past few years, we are forgetting the struggles in Mexico, so close to home. These are our people, this is our fight. Read Marco’s books, all of them but start with this one. If you’ve read it, read it again. Refresh your memory and get out there and help in the fight.