The Wind in the South
wind storm tonight
very strong
one of the compañeros says
that it is the wind of the U.S. military
it will do lots of damage
but when it ends
the people will still be here, pues
Our office
a shack really
was not designed for strong winds
a pole structure covered with boards sawn
from the last remnants of cloud forest
that used to cover this mountain
at seven thousand feet
where flocks of parrots flew
squawking loudly over the canopy
currents of cold air and wisps of dust
blast through the cracks in the boards
the shack is topped with a corrugated tin roof
that becomes a loud drum during mountain storms
negative pressure from the wind
causes the tin to rattle, pop, creak
loose edges flap and flail
and threaten to become wings and fly away
tools hanging on the walls dance on their nails
it is a howling gale that threatens to rip the roof off
oops .... the wind ripped the roof off the
zapatista general store
our source for bananas
and gossip
It's a serious blow to the
community and will need to be replaced
as soon as possible
the wind also knocked down the power line so the community was blacked out
The government continues to supply electricity
to the community
free of charge (that is the community refuses to pay)
today was an occasion of keep the power off
on the pretext that the wind was responsible
The communities sent out an adviso
in their ancient way of
almost instant communication
among the communities scattered around the mountain
(where there is no telephone)
for a manifestation
and indigenous drop everything and stream out
from their milpas (corn fields)
show up in old trucks or on foot
to create a flash crowd
in a short period of time
collective resistance
They create a road block and
demand that power be restored
It works... for awhile
there have been periodic bursts of electricity
through the evening as forces
beyond my event horizon contend with each other
over whether poor people will receive a small portion
of the power that is generated in Chiapas
The State of Chiapas produces the most power in the country
and it's inhabitants are the poorest
many have no access to electricity at all
As the evening light softened towards dark
i had a meeting with a soldier
representing community interests
he speaks in a softly spoken Spanish
with a particular indigenous accent that is almost
a song
It's difficult not to romanticize
this characteristic that the indigenous here have
I can see in his eyes that he is not running
everything in his discourse
talks of solidarity, community
this is our land
and we are deeply rooted to it
this revolution is different
in that the indigenous in these mountains
are not seeking liberation
their way of living demonstrates
that they are already liberated
subjects not objects
in resistance to those aspects of outside forces
that seek to take away their dignity
In talking to him i could see a kind humanity, sincerity, humbleness, dignity, security, sense of place and strength
that i've never had
He speaks with a compassion that makes me
joyful
but also makes me sad and wistful
being confronted with an expression of
humanity
that was somehow discarded during the process of
becoming modern
it's so obvious in him
that this missing facet of ourselves
reflected in this man is worth saving
for the future of humanity
we will need it
if we are to survive our destructive adolescence
It is strange
existing in a space that is neither
of the world i have left behind
nor in the world into which i have journeyed to
it is really a place of privilege
not being responsible in either
the project then
is expanding the intersection of these two
worlds to create a space that is mutually
beneficial and respectful
where the power of one seeks no advantage
over the other
where a negotiation for meaning takes place
that enlarges all our worlds
such are the dreams
one can be forgiven for conjuring
in territorio rebelde
The electricity to the community
has been cut again
so night is truly dark
the way it is truly dark
in the mountains away from urban lights
as i emerged from the meeting
i was engulfed by a black sky
the moon had not yet risen
Jupiter almost impossibly bright
in the tropical night
its position almost straight overhead
gives away the latitude
as far south of gringolandia
it is very close to equinox
looking up through
a large spreading tree with an open crown
silhouetted against an obsidian sky
speckled with all the 12,000 points of light
of the Mayan universe
nearby someone was playing a Scottish bagpipe
that's the kind of place this is
the meeting ground for
indigenous knowledge
soldier poets
bagpipe players
and students in resistance
This morning i awoke before sunrise
to climb the hill above the community
on the way up i noticed that i was subtly different
my mental state had shifted during the night
after a little self examination
i was able to put a name to the thing
that was different: anxiety
i discovered that i wasn't anxious
the veil of koyaanisqatsi had parted
the layers of civilization peeled away
at least temporarily
and I existed only in this moment
satisfied that it was enough
by the time i got to the top of the hill
the sun was just rising
and almost at the same time
clouds were rolling in
to obscure the view i'd come for
which i took as a metaphor for this reality
after all
this is a (remnant) cloud forest
Saludos desde el corazon del mundo,