Women’s Marches
In the middle of November there were a series of Women’s Marches protesting the dead and disappeared and the assault of some women by the Federal (PFP) who had been occupying the Zocalo.
Mexico
Hierve El Agua
Last weekend I took Mica, Bardo and the kids from Hauyapam, and Charlie, who used to be a coffee bean roaster in Oaxaca in the 70’s but now is a roaster in Canada and here for a few weeks, in the car to Hierva El Agua about 50 miles into the mountains. There cold water mineral springs fall over steep cliffs and solidify into rock-hard deposits forming algae-painted slabs in level spots and accumulating into what appear to be grand frozen waterfalls…shining in the sun.
The governor is building a huge glassed-in pyramid-shaped restaurant within yards of the springs…giving diners (what diners?) a spectacular view of the Sierra Sur mountains where the indigenous Mixe live…but the place is accessed by pot-holed dirt roads. The only place to eat was an empty shack…interestingly named “Alice’s Restaurant” where we were the only patrons. The first evening a good-looking young woman gave us black beans, salsa and bread and coffee while she nursed her ten-month old little boy…her two year old by her side. She says it is common here for women to have ten children…but she has had her tubes tied, she says.
We stayed in the only bungalow…with “matrimonial” bed in a loft and two sets of bunk beds below. There was no gas for the stove or water heater. The gate-keeper in the same building had spent six years in LA and wanted to practice his English.
The next day we sat next to a smoke-filled wood fire in the corner of the dirt yard of the “restaurant” while an older woman made fresh corn tortillas on a huge comal. The tomatoes for the fresh salsa were roasted in the wood ashes…giving it a wonderful smoky flavor. She amazingly was able to grind the chilis on a window sill next to the fire. We devoured the avocados and cheese memelitas with the salsa and coffee…running for cover from the wood smoke whenever the woman stoked the fire. Best-tasting Oaxacan food yet!
On the way home, we stopped at a small family-run traditional mescal factory to buy jugs of Mescal. I will buy a small oak barrel with a spigot at the market to keep the mescal from drawing the taste of the plastic jug. The maguay plants are ground to a pulp in a round concrete “trough” under a huge marble “wheel” that is pulled round and round by a donkey. The mescal I chose had been stilled and aged with several different local fruits-and chicken breasts-in addition to the magay plant! Smooth, slightly sweet and full of flavor…40% alcohol…compared to the young 100% alcohol stuff that burns the gullet all the way to the stomach.
This week, Joe, a recently retired CPA from Chicago who is living in my apartment complex and teaching English, and I will have lunch together. Joe was married and has two grown children. Has also come here for a new life. Funny and gregarious…very nice guy. A young couple has just moved into the apartment (there are four apartments) from Canada. He is a writer …they have a 4 year old little boy who is squaring it off with the little girl in the manager’s apartment…neither of which knows the other’s language. They are driving the mothers nuts!
Can’t believe I’ve been here six months already. When my visa expires in August I will go to Asia to see my son and his wife, Josh and Amy, in Beijing China and son Doug and Luk, his wife, on the island of Koh Samui in Thailand…then probably back here if everything returns to normal politically. If not I’ll just stay in Asia.
Zapateca Mescal Distillery
Yesterday, Charlie and I visited an American and his wife, Tony & Rebecca Raab, who have a beautiful bed and breakfast called Casa Raab about 20 minutes outside the city. Tony has built a hand-made authentic Zapateco mescal still. Some of the best I’ve tasted. Certainly worth a personal tour.
casaraab@gmail.com
google Casa Raab
So Goes Life In Oaxaca
I went to Santo Domingo yesterday to check out the activity there. The teachers and their supporters have moved their encampment up the hill to the streets in front of Santo Domingo Church where marches now end and speeches are given. Vendors from the Zocalo now line Alcala St. running down from the church and TVs sitting precariously on boxes run non-stop videos. Traditional and contemporary Mexican music blares loudly nearby. Vendors provide a variety of food…tacos and memelitos…unique to Oaxaca. There are information tables and a few banners fly…walkers having to duck under nylon supporting lines. What activists say that “the people” want is a deepening of democracy — fair elections, a free press, responsive government, public safety and jobs. I suspect there is lot more going on than that.
As an expat living here for six months, I have yet to explore the abundant beauty of this primarily indigenous State…cooking classes, art museums, music…and Spanish language classes!
And so goes life in Oaxaca.
Oaxaca Students Battle PFP At University
At 8 in the morning the PFP advances upon the University of Oaxaca and begins firing at the radio and the university campus. Helicopters fly over and descend upon the radio university. At 9 in the morning 2 military convoys arrive as well as another convoy of PFP to help in the displacement of the radio. Throughout the morning police and tanks continue arriving. The Federal Preventative Police violently attack the people, throwing tear gas/gas bombs at the people that work inside of Radio Universidad of Oaxaca. Tear gas is also thrown from the helicopters. At 11:40 in the morning 18 people had already been detaining, including a student leader of the movement, two minors and a professor of the University of Oaxaca.
The people form a human chain in the area immediately around Radio Universidad. The radio calls out to neighbors to come out into the streets and give flowers to the military who are also in the areas around CU with their fire arms. The radio underscores that this is a peaceful resistance. They do not want deaths or injured people.
At ten in the morning the PFP severely attacks the population in the cross of five men where the barricade is located. In some areas of the city it is reported that the PRIistas are firing into the air, hoping to discourage people from leaving in the streets in solidarity with Radio Universidad de Oaxaca.
Medical help is sought. Many people are hurt as the PFP is using tear gas, a non-lethal arm, as a lethal weapon, firing it directly into people’s bodies at point blank range. The hospitals do not want to receive the injured people of the social movement.
Two of those detained were liberated. Vargas, the PFP official, was the one who had apprehended these people. They were savagely beaten before being released.
Marches in solidarity with Oaxaca, heading toward Radio Universidad, continue to leave throughout the morning.
In the afternoon, the PFP finds itself virtually surrounded by various groups who are in solidarity with the APPO and unable to leave.
At 5pm the PFP leaves the university zone after 6 hours of conflict, throwing tear gas bombs into houses while withdrawing.
The day of struggle left more than 70 injured persons and 32 detained by police, some of whom were flown away in helicopters of the federal police and army.
It is an example of dozens of videos you can buy in the street for $2.00 each. They were filmed and edited by amateur videographers, activists and/or supporters of the “movement.” To get the other side of things people can watch government controlled Televisa or TV Azteca.
Wedding Today In XoXo
Charly, Mica, Bardo, their kids and I went to a wedding today…a happy thing. Someone related to Mica. A professional couple. The wedding was in the very nice home of a relative…as is often the case the house was in a poor looking neighborhood on the side of a hill…weeds all around. Just the judge sitting at a table with the couple and witnesses standing facing him. Then we ate BBQ Chivo (goat) and drank lots of Tequila. The couple didn’t dance to the live combo…so neither did we.
Today Zocalo & Santo Domingo
This morning I took the car to the Toyota Service Agency to have the oil changed in the car…after all, I did drive it from Oregon to Oaxaca in southern Mexico…a darn long ways.
This afternoon I joined my landlord Geraldo and his mother Socorro in the Zocalo. The streets leading into the Zocalo are still blocked by police but after determining you are ok, they move aside and let you through. The place is bare save hundreds of riot-control police sitting and lying around…much like the teachers and protesters before. Sitting at a cafe having a beer, Socorro clapped and cheered, along with some others who were also sitting at the cafe…yelling Bravo at every movement of the police. They look quite young…Socorro told one he was a “baby.” He just laughed. Some of the young hip affluent Oaxacan women are eyeing the guys…once in awhile we see couples, a PFP and a local girl, walking about. I just took pictures. They asked me if I was ever frightened while I have been living here…no of course not I answered. Then they asked if the presence of the police bothered me. Of course not, I said. What I didn’t say was that I would be much happier if they weren’t here…they don’t exactly add to the esthetics of the place.
Leaving the Zocalo about 5:00pm, I walked up the hill to Santo Domingo Church where the protesters are now ensconsed. The mood here was somber…a couple musical groups playing soft music. A “garden” of ceramic human sized figures are placed right in front of the church. The hundreds of votive lights glowing in the dark will be beautiful tonight but I am too drained and tired to wait around to see it. Only about half of the teachers have returned to classes.
Police Take Over Zocalo
Late in the night of October 29, the Federal Preventive Police (PFP) took over the Zocalo with tear-gas and tanks. The next morning there was an impromptu march with marchers confronting the police at every street entrance to the Zocalo.
Day Of The Dead, Black Mole, Hookah Pipes
Went to my landlord’s home yesterday morning to make black mole…pronounced “molay” a Oaxacan specialty that is always made for the Day Of The Dead and served exactly at 11:00 on November 2 for the spirits of the dead who come back to eat with the family. It’s a relief to be away from the phone and the computer and the Zocalo that seems only to be giving me bad news the last few days.
A life-long friend of Gerardo’s, a newly minted teacher that will be teaching in the Mixtec about four hours away, was already there visiting. He majored in English which was quite good.
Joe, the other tenant in my apartment building who is here teaching English. arrived soon after. My landlord, Gerardo (another Gerardo from the one I have been hanging out with) and his mother Socorro put us all to work. She put a skinless chicken with onion on the stove to boil. Joe was in charge of charring the dried black Ancho & Pasilla Negro seeded chilis on the hot ceramic comal and putting them in water to soak. Then we fried dried French bread chunks, banana slices, garlic, cinnamon bark, some almonds, a cup of raw sesame seeds, a cup of plumped raisins, oregano, thyme, cumin and some pepper corns, cloves and salt in a bit of oil. Then fried some tomatoes and tomatillos. We put all the fried ingredients together with the chilis into a pot and drove to a nearby torilleria where they ground everything together making a thick paste. Then back to the house where we put the paste into another bit of oil in a huge ceramic pot…stirring constantly…watching the paste turn dark. Then Socorro slowly added cups of the broth from the boiling chicken…Joe stirring for about a half hour with a huge wooden spoon. At the last minute Socorro added a bit of wonderful Oaxacan chocolate.
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Car Finally Retrieved
The car will be ready Saturday at 11…the mechanic said. Then on Sat a call came…there has to be some modification in order to set the domestic alternator. Mechanics don’t work on Sat afternoon so the car will be ready at 11 Monday morning. Eleven came and went. Car will be ready at 1pm. 1pm came and went. A call to the garage indicted that the mechanics went out to lunch and won’t return until 4:30pm. Gerardo, who has been making the calls, chewed them out…all lies…no wonder Mexico has such a bad reputation among Americans he said. They delivered the car…one cell of the battery is “boiling” the mechanic said. Now I suppose I will have to get a new battery before I end up stranded in the mountains somewhere.
To charge the battery, Gerardo and I drove to Huayapam again. We picked up Max at 5pm in the Zocalo. He was tickled to get out of town.
Bardo was not at home. His nephew had had an accident with his mother’s car and rolled it…was at the hospital with cuts and bruises…and Bardo had gone to check on him. Bardo soon returned and we sent out for pastor and asada tacos, grilled onions, limes, hot guacamole sauce and hot green sauce…adding a few tiny very hot green chiles from Bardo’s bush by the outdoor kitchen. After some of Bardo’s freshly roasted and ground pluma organic coffee, we piled Max into the car, which thankfully started up, and delivered him to his apartment.
The last thing we heard was “noon tomorrow in the Zocalo!”
Laughingnomad 