WEEKS 7-10 (SCROLL DOWN FOR PICTURES)

Tlaxcala, the smallest state in Mexico is a state characterized by farming, corn, rural poverty, and more corn. I was living in Hueyotlipan a town of 10,000 in the northern part of Tlaxcala. Where to begin? For one, after a 16 hour van ride through Mexico, passing into a variety of different temperature climates; cold, foggy, rainy in Chiapas, humid, hot, tropical in Veracruz, and then dry + cactus filled Tlaxcala, we were greeted by six families, all apart of CNUC. CNUC stands for campesino nacional urbano consejo and is an organization that we would be working with for the three weeks in Hueyotlipan. CNUC has been around since ’94 and is aligned with La Otra Compaña, the Zapatista movement launched in 2006 that connects Mexican social movements, emphasizing organizing from below and to the left, autonomy, and solidarity. CNUC has done some powerful stuff organizing different communities around access to clean water, building community centers, and leading strikes. Their current campaign is all about compost because it is a farming community. Without getting into the details behind the history of land rights in Mexico (used to be communal ejidos), farming reforms, NAFTA, and government corruption, farmers in Mexico can’t make a livable wage.  Fertilizer is very expensive and full of chemicals, so CNUC chapters are learning how to make their own compost and all that jazz.

            I was living with a really sweet family for these past three weeks. They were new CNUC members, and although not famers, they still worked hard to maintain their basic human rights. They have a three year old and a two year old, and their only source of income comes from the money the father makes selling juice on the highway each morning. Every day, at 6 am they both would cut oranges and juice carrots, and then he would be gone until noon or so. We drove past him one day, and seeing him in his place of work was something I will not forget. I see him each day as a loving father, kind husband, doing yard work, fixing his car, playing with the kids, but to see him, on the highway (literally the HIGHWAY) made me so angry and sad. To be forced into a job that is dangerous and dehumanizing isn’t fair. But, he is resisting in his own way, being part of CNUC and finding ways to make money without having to migrate to the US.

            Because Tlaxcala is a state focused heavily on agriculture (lots of corn, lots of barley, wheat, oats) and there is no money in agriculture anymore, many people have migrated to the US, both documented and undocumented. Hueyotlipan specifically had lots of folks go to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and at least two people from each CNUC family had been in the United States for an extended period of time. Being an undocumented Mexican worker in the US is hard, fucked up, not an easy choice to make, and having grown up in a place fueled by Mexican labor (TIBURON, CA y’all), being in the place where many of those folks are from was a big learning experience and something that has caused real points of reflection.

            I am trying to keep this short, but summarizing three incredibly busy and powerful weeks into a few paragraphs isn’t easy. But here is list of wonderful things I experienced to keep it all short and sweet.

1.     Meeting with the Braceros. Who are the Braceros? They were part of a migrant labor program introduced by the US and Mexico from 1942-1964 that brought over 2 million Mexican laborers to the US. A lot of them came to CA, and I literally had never heard about the program until last week when I met with them to talk about what their experiences were like and why they are still fighting to get not only government recognition, but also paid for their labor more than 50 years ago. Look up their struggle…its incredibly interesting and starting to fade.

2.     UPADI meeting (250 people organization of farmer’s market merchants.) While at their meeting, they received word that two of the members had been arrested for washing cars in the street, but then were released a few hours later. We got to see a whole organization work to free some of their own.

3.     Walking to class each morning with three volcanoes in the distance (sometimes blowing smoke)

4.     Walking home from class next to cows, sheep, and horses.

5.     Eating and making so much food related to corn; atole (corn drink), tortillas, corn on the cob, corn off the cob…you get the idea

6.     Meeting with CNUC members in three different towns, each affected by deforestation, sand mining, contaminated rivers, and the new Mexican labor law reform.

7.     Walking a two year old and three year old to preschool in the mornings with their lovely mother.

8.     Having strangers ask me why I was in Hueyotlipan and if I had ever heard of Jackson Hole.

9.     Learning about GMO corn, drinking carrot juice each morning, and buying bread from a hatchback playing “Rollin in the Deep” each night.

10. Realizing I suck at washing my clothes by hand, and how wasteful my use of water is in the US. Showering a few times a week, no washing machine, no dishwasher, no running water in the house is PERFECTLY OK. Except I need to learn how to hand wash. For real.

11.  The days I didn’t have diarrhea were few and far between, as well as close to my heart.

This post doesn’t do Hueyotlipan justice. But I am trying my best. As of right now I am in Mexico City, and will be for the next month. Stay tuned for more!

Love 

Violeta aka La Muchacha (according to my 3 year old host brother) 

Jolett and Raul...Why so cute?

"White girl holding Mexican child!"

UPADI meeting--two men standing are the ones who were released from jail that evening.

CNUC member from Zitaltepec who keeps bees and fights against sand mining

Campesino style cookin

CUTE BABY AND CORN

GMO corn fuckin up Hueyo.

Freedom is just another word....

Week three in Mexico, and as I type this, a parade of thousands is marching by, celebrating the independence of Mexico. It has been an interesting week (as usual) only to be punctuated by this weekend’s festivities. Oventic was busy, full of activities such as mural design, weaving, theater planning, and then staying an extra night to attend a boot-making workshop on Saturday. Staying Friday night was really relaxing, about half the group stayed and most of the promotores leave, so it the campo pretty empty. The fog and the cows only added to the serenity of the evening. Saturday morning, the boot workshop was nothing as I expected. Warned  not to get too excited, as the boot makers where known to cancel at the last minute, I expected masked peoples giving out harsh orders and being very direct with group of 7 Americans. But I was wrong. The two out of the normally seven boot cooperative workers were really nice, friendly, and patient. They showed us the preliminary steps to cutting out the soles, cutting the leather, and then let us work away. It was a brief, but memorable experience, as I don’t think I own anything that I have actually seen where it has been made.

            That being said, there have been times when I feel so touristy and uncomfortable that the only thing I can do it turn off that part of my brain. For example, during the weaving, although it was cool to be able to make my own bag, having two indigenous women huddle around me and show me how to do their craft was not something I necessarily want to experience again (too bad! Cause weaving is every Tuesday from 5 pm- 7pm). Talking to Tony and other group members, I have come to the conclusion that even though the power dynamics remain in play (I am American and you are Indigenous. Show me your ancient crafts!!) the circumstances are different. We, as the MSN program, are here for global solidarity, at the invitation of the Oventic community. They want us here and hopefully our ganas to learn change the typical commodification aspects of white/Western travellers going to indigenous communities. That being said, especially while being San Cristobal do I feel very uncomfortable with my own presence in Mexico.

            San Cristobal, as I am learning each weekend, is a very interesting place. Even as I am typing this, the streets are jam packed with the conflicts and juxtaposition of a city newly found by foreigners and long occupied by rural Mexicans. Literally, I just watched a whole slew of armed Mexican soldiers go through the parade. It was about 20 minutes of people in camouflage holding giant guns, some on giant tanks, and then even more armed and uniformed military personnel. It is always hard to swallow the glorification of violence that western civilization has, but here in Chiapas, after watching documentaries about the atrocities the Mexican paramilitary and military groups have been apart of and have occurred in the past 10 years against indigenous peoples, it is almost too much to bear. Watching the military march by, fully clothed in the green foliage and green face paint only reminds me of the documentary I watched last week, in Oventic, about the paramilitary attacks that happened in 2005 and the faces of whole communities forced to leave their villages at the hands of the very same people marching past and being celebrated.

            Never being one for patriotism, days of “independence” have never sat well with me, regardless of where I am in the world. The visceral reaction to today’s parade and last nights madness I also felt on 4^th of July, on Nantucket, when I was 12. Seeing so many rich white people drink wine and shoot fire works while screaming “America!!” just didn’t sit well with me in 2006, and still today the feelings are the same. But, I am not Mexican, so this isn’t my country to hate on (and I don’t hate Mexico at all! I just am working through feelings of witnessing injustice and learning about the interconnectedness of the capitalist owning class) but yesterday, after coming down the mountain from Oventic, and landing straight into drunk independence celebration was pretty intense. Last night, seeing white tourists wearing sombreros with painted on moustaches was pretty intense. There were parts that were pretty fun. The whole zocalo was filled with food booths, and there lots of churros to be had. The live mariachi band was fun to dance to, although I had never in my life been as glad to be sober than last night. MSN program asks for us to be sober (for a variety of reasons, both stemming from safety and also respect) and I have no problem following the rules. Last night was a perfect example of why being not at all drunk was necessary. Extremely wasted men kept trying to get all up in our business, which is not at all something I am used too, especially when in big crowds listening to live music. Rereading that sentence makes it sound like I am being sarcastic, but I am not. Truthfully, I was very glad to be sober with three of programs male bodied people out with me as well.

            So I guess that is all. I had more eloquent things to say, but due to the large amounts of drumming and marching that has been happening for the past two hours it is hard express what else I want to say. So in conclusion, things are going. Going and going, weekends are weird in San Cristobal and really mellow in Oventic. Getting excited for travelling after the program and generally all the cool things I am learning. Aight y’all see you on da flip side.

Xxoo

Violeta

WEEK 2 Y'all!

OVENTIK/OVENTIC/OVENTIK/OVENTIC

Week two has come and gone, and as I sit in San Cristobal, on this sleepy Sunday, finishing up homework, hoping it doesn’t rain, I am having a hard time articulating what this past week has been like. For one, there is a need for security culture, meaning that because I am living in a community that has a volatile history and a need for privacy/a little bit of secrecy, I am not sure how comfortable I am sharing all the details of what I have been doing. Please don’t think that my lack of details means I am training for the revolution or doing anything subversive, it is more for respect for the Oventic community, which is full of inspiring men and women, both (very) young and old.  Second of all, I have four more weeks of living in Oventic, so I don’t feel like there is a rush to write anything at the moment. But what I will say is this: Oventic is nothing as I expected. The night before leaving, I was very nervous. The group discussion we had on how to behave and how the week will go painted a picture of strict militant adult figures, secrecy, and hard physical conditions (no hot water, no flush toilets, no mattresses). But, I was wrong. Oventic has so much heart and love, in my mind due to the large amount of children running around, the murals on every building reminding everyone why they are a part of the movement, and the beautiful surrounding green mountains.

            First, I’ll start off with the van ride up to Oventic from San Cristobal. An hour drive up the windy mountains in a van filled with 12 people is not for the weak stomached. But it was a beautiful drive, up a twisted mountain side, speckled with roadside fruit stands, children dressed colorfully playing with chickens, and pits of garbage sometimes on fire. The drive has shown me the “poverty” that I was expecting to see. The whole idea of poverty is complicated but I don’t want to get into that right now.  Pulling up to front gate and seeing my first actual Zapatista with the ski mask checking IDs and then getting in the van with us to direct us down the hill is a memory that I will never EVER forget. Anyways, in Oventic, I am staying in a room with my 11 other compañer@s with the actual community living right next door. Waking up to the sounds of a community happening, wood being split, babies crying, and chickens squawking has defined my mornings. The soft sounds of tzostil have become the soundtrack to my days.

            Meals are served 3 times a day and are very tasty. I am so happy I love beans, tortillas, and avocados or else this would be a long trip! Classes take up about half the day and then around 5 pm I am free to do what I please. My free time is spent looking at cows (why are they so beautiful??), walking around the campo, and reading. A lot of reading. Classes are interesting. Twice a week I have class with Tony and the other MSN people, discussing readings and how to bring the feelings of community and resistance home to our own places and the other 3 days I have Spanish class. The Spanish classes are taught by promotores also known as Oventic community members and focus a lot on Zapatista history and current issues in Mexico.

Oventic is also home to a secondary school for the surrounding towns, so we share the campo with 100 or so indigenous middle schoolers, many of whom are dressed in their “traditional” clothes. Sometimes we (MSN people) get to have activities with the secondary school kids. One day in particular we played a game that focused on using consensus to solve an issue (the Mexican government drops millions of pesos from the sky…what do you?) and then come to a solution in groups of 5 and then in the large group of 12 smaller groups. I was so amazed at the young boys an girls in my group wanted to leave the money where it was and not use it because “we are an autonomous community and have everything we need” and “the government has done nothing but harm our people and take away our land…it could be a trick.” Pretty inspiring anti-capitalist words from a bunch of young people…the struggle and fight for basic rights never ends for many communities across the world and I feel like I am here to listen. Listen and learn and see how I can be ally. Being an ally takes many forms, but I am not quite sure what they are yet. I have a whole three months to listen, question, and listen some more.

I have much more to say and many other feelings to articulate, but enough is enough. Here is to one more week filled with challenges (both good and bad), feelings of both complete isolation as well as being part of a close knit community and of course beans.

Love

Violeta 

p.s. photos will appear eventually, but google "oventic murals" to see some wonderful pieces of public art that I see every day

Alright, Alright, Alriggghhhtttt

 

HEY FOLKS!!!

So its been a while since I have written things on the world wide web and am currently writing this without internet so I am yet to find out if this will turn into an email or a blog post. Regardless of the final form, here I am, in the beautiful, misty, and corn filled/green mountains of southern Mexico. For 13 weeks I am on the Mexico Solidarity Network Fall 2012 program, where we move around Mexico with a group of 12 students, taking classes, learning about indigenous movements of resistance and seeing first hand the powerful communities that are created when groups of oppressed peoples say “Ya Basta!!”  The first week (it is currently Wednesday evening) I am staying in an indigenous autonomous (get ready for those words to repeat over and over) university, located on the outskirts of San Cristobal de las casas. San Cristobal is the capital of Chiapas, and as I discovered today, was the first city in all of Hispanoamerica built by the Spanish. Other cities were colonized by the Spanish, but they never built directly by their own hands (well more like the hands of exploited indigenous men).  Long story short, there has always been a fear in San Cristobal of the indigenous people “taking over” so the city is very much segregated with the European ancestors in the center and the indigenous people in the slum like outer neighborhoods. Until 1994 (with the occupation by the Zapatistas) San Cristobal was barely a blip on the Mexican radar. Chiapas in fact has switched between being part of Guatemala and part of Mexico many times over. But, since 1994, San Cris has seen a huge upswing in paramilitary control, indigenous uprisings, and lots of tourists which only has created more tension and more growth. There will be more to come about San Cristobal, since I will be spending every weekend for the next 5 weeks there. I want to focus right now on where I staying, because it is one of the most beautiful (physically and conceptually) communities I have ever seen.

Bear with me as I try to explain Universidad de la Tierra (UniT) in the most logical sense…but its hard as sometimes my brain doesn’t work logically and I have a lot to describe.  UniT was founded in 1989 and is a school for only indigenous young people. The ages range from 12-18 but since everyone is relatively small, everyone looks young.  We were given a tour of the campus, which is a huge foresty piece of land with brightly colored buildings, with each color corresponding to a different service. Pink means dining/food, orange means farming/agriculture, green means something else. The classes taught are mostly manual skills, such as sewing, car mechanics, farming, cooking, music, iron welding…with open seminars weekly to discuss the more theoretical side of learning. It is a very self sustaining place, meaning a lot of things on the campus are made by the students. Benches are painted with lots of little murals, the curtains are made by the sewing classes, windows and other iron bars are made in the welding class. There is huge rabbit farm (the CUTEST RABBITS IN THE WORLD) that are sold for meat to communities (not so cute), as well as chickens, and sheep, also sold at markets.  Although it is not an explicit Zapatista community, there are EZLN signs, murals, slogans all over the campus, reinforcing the idea of solidarity and resistance. UniT has few “luxury items” such as hot showers, flush toilets and as a gringa, I cannot drink the water, making things just a bit more complicated.

            Meals are served 3 times a day, breakfast at 8 am, lunch at 2 pm and dinner at 7pm. Being guests, we are served first, making it very awkward at times taking my plate of food into the dining room as 20 or so 12 year old brown peoples watch, eyes and mouths wide, pointing and laughing. The food is well, food. Beans. A lot beans. 3 times a day status with a side of tortillas (hand made of course). There is often very sweet hot tea or coffee and well as little braided breads (also hand made) sprinkled with sugar. There is often rice or pasta as well. A lot of starch and not a lot of vegetables. I won’t talk about bathroom stuff…all I will say is that I am waiting for the horrible “tourista” to hit me and when it does, I just hope that it is quick and not too painful. Anyways.   We are sleeping in bunks (girls and boys separated) with lots of blankets and a nice sleeping pad (something that will not be available at our next location). The days here are nice…structured around meal times and classes. We have a Spanish class for 3 hours and then another class focused on the assigned readings  for another 3 hours. The Spanish professor, Effrain, is one of the most interesting people I have met. He is older, with a penchant for sarcasm, philosophy and sweet neck handkerchiefs. On the first day of class, we read some pretty hardcore short stories and poems, written by “El Supe” and Eduard G. He is someone who clearly (at least in my mind) is very much aligned with the revolution, whatever that means. The other part of school is good, but so far has required readings by authors such as Paolo Fiere, Ivan Illich, Karl Marx, Immanuel Wallerstien, and David Harvey. Lots of heavy shit touching on oppression, privilege, capitalism, and development, which only brings my own strong white guilt rushing to the surface.

Fast forward a few days and now it’s the weekend! YAYYY…So I am no longer living at UniTierra and am spending the weekend in San Cristobal in a house that will be the base MSN (Mexico Solidary Network) house for the month I am in Chiapas. Starting Monday however, I will be in Oventic, an autonomous Zapatista community not found on google earth (!!) taking language classes, cultural classes, and attending workshops. The workshop I am most excited for is the boot making seminar…which is where the infamous badass not so vegan Zapatista boots are made.

I guess I should finish up where I left off…So UniTierra was a very interesting experience, and I will post photos as soon I find a cable for my camera. But I guess the main points to touch on with regards to UniTierra are; COLD SHOWERS AREN'T REALLY THAT FUN AT ALL. Being white (and a woman) in a place where there are no white people is a new experience for me. Of course all young American women who are travelling go through the discomfort of being a minority, so there isn’t really much to say there besides, well, it is uncomfortable. Especially when being in a place as secluded as UniT, I am made even more aware of how much I don’t fit in. Being in a group of 11 other Americans doesn’t help either. Generally being large groups is not so much my thing, but because that is my life for the next 3 months I have to get used to it. Or at least separate myself when walking in public places. Also, having the freedom and the privilege to leave UniTierra and continue on my merry way was also very interesting. The students staying there can leave when they like, but to go back to their communities, which are pretty similar to UniTierra. Hmm…well I feel like I have come to the end of my thoughts about my first week here. I will post more probably in a few days and then later next weekend. I only have internet Friday afternoons through Sunday nights, so we will see how much this posting thing really happens. I feel like I had more to say…but until next time

LOVE LOVE LOVE

Violet(a)

P.S. I really hope I don’t sound (to be delicate) up my own butt about my travels. It is easy to get all wrapped up in the things I am doing so sorry if I am annoying.

P.P.S My blog when I was in high school and living in Spain will probably be a lot cuter and funnier due to the fact that I was coming of age n shit, but I will try and maintain that level of stream of consciousness. Also I am not longer keeping it cutty in Cadiz, so I guess a new title is in order.But I am still little(ish) and a jew and a vegan so the URL works fine

P.P.P.S Hit me up on skype (violetmae92) 

FINAL NOTE: After the program ends (end of November) I will be a free agent until end of March, meaning, I will be hopping all around South America. If you have any recommendations, people, or really any advice, tell me!

A photo journey.

Some cousins

Lucia, Bea, and Aarron

More cousins....The blonde one is not really a part of the family, so I dont know her name, then Christina, Carlota is on top of Christina, and then Lucia. The guy in the background is Jose Luis, another cousin. 

The BIGGEST paella I have ever seen. It was vegan and organic!

The happy Violeta with the ecopaella sign....

At a birthday BBQ.  From Left to Right-- Joaquin (cousin), Carmen*sita* (cousin), Violeta (extranjera), Carmen (Aunt). Carmen (Aunt) is the mother of Joaquin (cousin).

As I sit here in the internet cafe, being surround by foreigners screaming down various international phone lines, I am in my own little world. Munchn on some chuchaay and looking at photos. I can't believe that it is June already. In a few months, I am going to be a Tam Senior, which just shouldn't be allowed. 

My family is coming in two weeks! I can't wait to show them the ways of Chiclana de la FFFRRRRRONNNNNTTTTTEEEEERRRRRAAAAAA. 

Get ready because.....

Gloria the Magnificent can't wait to stretch her legs. The time has come.

Paris, Vienna, Elissa, Eva, 17 and returning soon.

First off, I would like to apologize for the long gaps between blogposts. I don't have any excuses but will try to post more regularly as my time here draws to a close.

So, my two week whirlwind adventure. Oh yea, that's right. Paris. Vienna. Let me just say that they were some of the best two weeks of my life. Filled with little sleep, lots of roaming city streets, people watching, coffee, amazing food and seeing people who I haven't seen in quite a while.

I got off the plane in Paris without really realizing I was in Paris and still a bit worried that I was going to mess up the subway and end up not meeting Daniel (cousin). But, I made it. I did it!! That was the best feeling. Let me say, that my sense of direction is TERRIBLE. But, I didn't even get lost in Paris OR Vienna...well, maybe one time, but that doesn't count. As I met up with Daniel, my thought process was a bit nonfunctional. "I am in Paris. I am in Paris. I am IN PARIS!! and am going to meet up with friends and have total freedom................I AM IN PARIS" and I couldn't stop smiling. It just took me a while to deal with the information.

While walking to meet Elissa, I remember last year, talking about a possible Paris trip.

Violet "What if we met up in Paris for my birthday?"

Elissa "We would be the coolest people ever."

Violet "Yea, but I can see it not happening."

Elissa "But still. Just imagine."

and it happened. That part still amazes me.

Meeting up with the other Tam kids was crazy as well. We also went out to dinner with a woman from Mill Valley, which was a big slap in the face of Marin Mom. But, you know, it was all in good fun.

My birthday was a really memorable experience as well and might have been better than my Bat Mitzvah. Just kidding. It is a story for a different day.

So, after spending a week walking around PARIS and staying my father's cousins. I went to stay with my mother´s cousins. oh man. I had been to their apartment before but I had forgotten how movie like it was. Claaassssssssyyyyyyyy. A leafy Parisian neighborhood. A large expanse of nicely decorated rooms, amazing art and a feeling of being engulfed in that safety net that money always seems to provide. He enjoys pipe smoking (so classy) and explained the differences between the wood grain, shape, and make of the pipe. So, if I ever pick up this "hobby", which I just might, I am equipped with all of the information. It was there were I also had my first conversation about college. What fun! I forgot the pressure and terrible feeling I got in my stomach as I thought about where I want to go and why Ivy league schools are NOT an option.

There is not room for me to describe every single day in Paris or every emotion that was felt, but just know that Paris is an amazing city and I had a fantastic time.


Vienna. EVA. It was so good to see her. But really. Vienna had a very different vibe than Paris. While Paris was gallivanting around, Vienna was more relaxed. Eva had school in the mornings, so I hung out in various places, going to museums, chilln in the sun on bright yellow benches and it felt amazing. One of the nights, Eva and I went to this awesome hangout place where I got to meet Eva's friends who are just as cool and nice as she is. I love meeting new people and traveling with Eva and even when being alone was really amplified by meeting all sorts of interested and interesting people.

So that was my trip.

side notes.

1. Being without my family (as much as I love them.....) was amazing. I could do WHATEVER I wanted whenever. No sight seeing was allowed and I got to experience both places with locals, which is always the best. ALWAYS. Going to hidden places, such as stores, cafés, musuems, and parks that aren't filled with tourists is always a better experience

2. Elissa is amazing. and funny. and smart. and so fun to be around

3. Eva has changed a lot from when she first came to live with us (and I am sure that I have as well). She is in school and studying HARD! Cooks and is so ADORABLE with her new love.

4. BEST 10 DAYS EVER.

5. If I had more time, patenience, and skills, I would articulate my experiences better. but I don't, so this will have to do.









I still need to write about my class trip to Barcelona with 50 students, which should guarantee a good chuckle as we imagine little Violeta crying by the pool in the hotel (first time crying since December). It was THAT TERRIBLE. and SCARRING. and HORRIBLE.

I should also talk (refuse to use blog as a verb) about my amazing birthday party in the Campo, and all the love and good feelings that were shared, the mountains of Spanish candy and the all vegetarian lunch.

I should probably write about how next month (thats right!!) I will be meeting my family in Madrid and then on a plane back in Marin and then road tripping with friends. Yes Dad, the road trip is going to happen!! :)

Time is zipping by and I am oh so very happy 17.5 hours of the day. Minus the 6.5 hours that are spent in the torturous pit that they call ESCUELA.

SO. Thanks for dealing with me. I had fun speed typing this out on a Spanish keyboard.

peace.