Zocalo

Police Kick Vendors Out of Oaxaca Zocalo

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Wondering around in the Zocolo (plaza) Monday, my friend Paula, who has lived here before, was approached by some young girls with a questionaire for tourists and asked if she had been to the Guelaguetza…or if she had been to see the reenactment of the Princess Donaji legend or any other official  related event of which she had attended none.

But she announced that she HAD been in the Zocolo that morning when the Municipal Police ignominiously strutted in with their flak jackets, shields and rifles to throw the street vendors out, releasing tear gas,  injuring four, detaining eight (mostly local hippie looking jewelry-makers who were standing up for the rest of the vendors who are mostly indigenous people from the mountains)  and sending tourists and locals alike into a frightened flurry to get out of the way.

It is not clear whether the vendors had a permiso to be in the zocalo but this is not the first time they have been thrown out over the years.  Maybe they didn’t pay their mordida (bribe to the city)?  This happened at the same time that the out-going Governor was giving his welcoming speech at the Guelaguetza so I guess he figured most of the tourists wouldn’t witness what was happening in the zocalo.

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Zocalo At Night

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Intimidating, the Governor thought the tourists would feel safer with them there…among other political reasons.

Gone from the Zocalo are the PFP with their menacing night sticks and bullet-proof vests and their rifles and sidearms…for shooting and for tear gas. Although the night before, Steve said, a large group of State police were gathered at one corner of the Zocalo…apparently responding to a rumor.

Gone are the teachers and the banners including one huge picture of Marx, Engles, Trotsky…and STALIN! Always meant to go up and ask the kids under the banner if they knew anything about Stalin who killed 30,000 of my husband’s German compatriots in the Ukraine by forced starvation. And that was the least of it. People buried food to give them a little extra time before the expected end. I have been unable to trace any remaining relatives through genealogy channels any further back than Bob’s grandfather who immigrated into Saskachewan Canada and then North Dakota.

Last night, balmy and breezy, Steve, Oscar and Ana’s mother and boyfriend and I took a leisurely walk to the people-filled Zocalo for dinner at the Jardin. The Oaxacan cheese-stuffed chili rellenos with salsa roja was a D. Every night there is entertainment…last night, about 10pm, after a music recital, just as we were leaving, they were setting up for dancing within a large circle of chairs. The restaurant’s marimba players were hauling out their instruments for another evening in front of the sidewalk tables. A hilarious clown was readying his routine.
A bit afraid we might get pulled in to be the straight guys, we headed home. Besides Oscar was tired and that means trouble.

I shall have to venture out more at night before the teachers return for their annual strike in May. Besides, back in the States, there will be no more late night/early morning forays into the lovely lively outdoors…unless you live in New York City in the summer.

One thing I want to know, though, is why the roosters never know what time it is in Oaxaca!

Protestor In The Zocalo Fountain

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Last Friday Ana and Steve saw a man take off his clothes down to his shorts and climb into one of the fountains in the Zocalo. I got a call from Ana: “Eunice get down here with your camera!”

it didn’t take very long before two municipal police told him to get out. He carried a sign that said, “señor gobernador, necesitamos agua.” He was from Santa Ana-one of the many communities and colonias here that have no supply of water at this time of year. When the drought kicks in people have water trucked in to fill cisterns…just as we do in the Centro.

Unfortunately, just as I arrived, a group of 5 officers talked the man out of the fountain, watched as he got himself dressed again, and then calmly escorted him away in their truck. So no photos. He probably will be beaten.

Why is it that we can have fountains running, but people don’t have water for washing??

Christmas Season

Posted on by Laughingnomad

The Christmas season begins with the celebration of Our Lady of Guadalupe on December 12 and continues until January 6…the Day of the Three Kings when presents are opened.

The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe (Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe or Virgen de Guadalupe) commemorates the traditional account of her appearances to Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin on the hill of Tepeyac near Mexico City from December 9 through December 12, 1531. It is Mexico’s most popular religious and cultural image: Nobel laureate Octavio Paz wrote in 1974 that “the Mexican people, after more than two centuries of experiments, have faith only in the Virgin of Guadalupe and the National Lottery!” On Guadalupe Feast Day people wait in line for hours to enter a church and kiss the foot of the Virgin. Little children are dressed up like the indigenous Indian children to whom the Virgin appeared.

During the Christmas season there is music, dancing and expositions of all kinds in the Zocalo and all around the Centro. One evening there were three music groups going all at once in the Zocalo including a Calenda with traditional indigenous dances in one corner in front of the Cathedral and a stage full of dancers demonstrating modern Mexican dance styles in another corner. A trio of flutes played indigenous folk music in the middle! And that’s not counting the guitarist and singer in one of the cafes and the poor roving singer with long black coat who sings a horrible loud version of “Oaxaca Oaxaca” and then expects you to give him money for your trouble!
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Sights & Sounds Of Oaxaca

Posted on by Laughingnomad

It is very quiet in Oaxaca now
For some people.
Others are in hiding.

There are only fireworks at night.
It is the Christmas season.
There is a big tree with lights in the Zocalo.
The pain of the people is buried under
Tree bark and red Chrysanthemums in the gardens.

It is very quiet in Oaxaca now.
The PFP are camped in the plaza
In the front of the Cathedral…
Sleeping, reading the papers…like the teachers
But they have big guns on their laps.

It is very quiet in Oaxaca now
For some people.
Others are watching and listening.
And waiting.

Like the Tlacuache.

PFP Attacks Nov 25 During Our Trip To Cajonos

Posted on by Laughingnomad

I drove Lester and Max to San Pedro de Cajonos yesterday. Left at the intersection at Tlacalula and then an hour and a half up into the Sierra del Sud mountains. Beautiful drive. San Pedro hangs on a cliff above a valley. The Blas family makes Alebrijes there.

Getting back to Oaxaca City about 5pm, I drove up Guerrero St. where Max lives to find milling crowds of frantic people who were attempting to undue the effects of PFP tear gas with handkerchiefs soaked in vinegar and Coca Cola. A march had just gotten to the city and the PFP didn’t much take to having the Zocalo surrounded by APPO supporters.

Exhausted from the day’s drive, I went to bed at 8pm to find out the next morning that over 2000 people, many innocent bystanders, had been arrested and beaten and taken to jails…but not charged. I also found out that Max had a method to his madness…knowing I might have been caught in the middle of it all had I stayed in the city.

Today Zocalo & Santo Domingo

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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.

Late Saturday Night Out

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Saturday afternoon, Gerardo and I went by collective taxi to Huayapam to take some cds full of Mike’s pictures he had taken of the soccer game to Bardo’s son Pavel. Returning to the city about 9pm we decided to stop by the Cucuracha for mescal…place was pretty empty for Saturday…and no live music. Walking back to my apartment we met Benito, a Zocalo troller (for free beer and food from the extranjeros-foreigners in English). The girl he was with wanted us to go with them to a club with live Mexican music & kereoke during the breaks. A bucket of six beers was 40 pesos or $4. The place was packed…people singing traditional Mexican songs along with the kareoke singer…Gerardo translating for me. A lot of culture in those songs…some putting goose bumps on me. One song was about an angry woman who had decided to put a stop to what I interpreted was the mysogyny from the males…her voice rising to amazing screaming decibles toward the end.

By 4am Gerardo walked me home through the barricades…stopping to talk to the four guards standing around a fire they were feeding with paper garbage…one older…the others young…one holding a long metal rocket launcher to give a signal if any trouble approached.

Sunday was obviously a down day with no activity on my part.

Conversation In The Zocalo

Posted on by Laughingnomad

It is creepy odd…the dirty war at night we don’t see…the bustling life of the Zocalo by day.

Monday was Mike’s last day in Oaxaca. Merilla & Peter, expats from Australia, Mike and Gerardo and I met for coffee at 1:30pm at the Terranova Cafe in the Zocalo. Benito and Jose happened by. Mike mostly entertained the small children who were vending woven wristlets and chiclets…and I was mostly trying to understand the Spanish being spoken at the table.

At 6:30pm, after beer, comida and much conversation, Merilla, Peter, Gerardo and Mike and I retired to the Casa de Mescal for mescal and a cerbeza ultimo. By 9pm we headed home.

Mike left tuesday (this morning) in the dark to catch an 8am plane for Las Vegas. Good-bye house…good-bye friends. Two cents says he will return on November 6 with my son Greg. I truly hope he does. I am ready for down time and Mike can take Greg around.