The Zapatistas, a revolutionary leftist group based in Chiapas went public twenty years ago on the day NAFTA went into effect. After a few violent confrontations early on, the Zapatistas have abstained from using weapons, and the Mexican government has largely given them autonomy. The government, however, does maintain a low level of counterinsurgency through funding local paramilitary and establishing military bases next to autonomous regions. Earlier this month, Miriam Harder, an MCC worker living in Chiapas, attended the Escuelita Zapatista, where she lived with a family and learned about the Zapatista way of life. Miriam coordinates a sustainable agriculture pilot program for MCC in Mexico and Central America and works locally at Otros Mundos in Chiapas.
My co-worker turned to me and asked, “As a Mennonite and pacifist are you allowed to be here?”
We were sitting in the assembly hall of a Zapatista caracol, listening to the masked leadership give us a brief summary of how the autonomous government is organized. Dressed in rubber boots, a flannel plaid jacket and a scarf tightly wound around my neck, I was trying to ward off the chill of the rainy day in the drafty, un-walled building.
“I am here to learn about an important aspect of indigenous organization in the current context and recent history of Chiapas,” I replied, “So yes, I think so.”
After years of relative silence, the Zapatistas have stepped back into public light. On Dec. 21, 2012, the day that marked the beginning of a new era in the Mayan calendar, around 40,000 Zapatistas marched silently through five cities in Chiapas. Later they released a message, “Did you hear that? It’s the sound of your world collapsing. It’s the sound of ours returning.”
This was followed by a series of communiques and the organization of the Escuelita Zapatista (Zapatista little school). The school was an invitation for outsiders to come for a week and see what Zapatista organization and life look like 20 years after the uprising. The first took place in August and when another two sessions where announced for December and January, out of curiosity, I decided to sign up with some of my coworkers.
On the afternoon of January 2nd, we arrived in one of the caracoles (centers of Zapatista autonomous government) in Chiapas. Three masked Zapatistas boarded our bus and started taking our names.
We then got off and stood in a line. “Miriam Teresa. Miriam Teresa? Here is your votán.” For the course of the week I was accompanied every waking moment by a guide, who in my case was a 15 year-old girl. She was there to answer my questions (but not all of them), teach me how to live in a community, care for me and perhaps even keep me out of trouble.
I had the distinct feeling that I had entered into the tight control of a socialist state where you are assigned someone to mind you and feed the propaganda of the organization, but we got along quite well. And after we left the caracol and entered into the life of a family and community, she took off her balaclava and I saw her face.
The Escuelita was not only a chance to bring in and renew their solidarity base, but also a chance to strengthen the organization internally. In the process of preparing their young (and not so young) people to accompany the students, they restudied and reflected on the history of their struggle. Most Votánes were sent with their student to a community where they were not from. In this way relationships within the organization and between communities were strengthened.
We spent our first night in the caracol as students continued to arrive. This may have been the first time I have slept on a wooden plank. On the second day we dispersed into Zapatista communities, one to three hours away, where for the next four nights and three days we lived and worked with a family, studies our books and absorbed a little of what it means to be Zapatista.
I carried firewood for the first time on my back with the strap that goes over the forehead (my bundle was less than half the size of the very pregnant mother of the family), ate more beans than I ever have in a five day period and learned some tzeltal (at least the food words so that I could indicate yes or no if I wanted more of something or not).
I was sent to a community located on “recuperated” land. During the ’94 armed uprising large landowners were forced off their land in Zapatistas controlled areas and landless families moved on. As far as I know the government recognizes this change in land “ownership.”
The land is communally owned and people are assigned their areas to cultivate corn and beans, plant coffee, etc. There are communally designated areas to cut firewood and graze their cattle. If you leave the organization you cannot continue living on this land. In this way the organization ensures that the land remains in Zapatista hands.
The Zapatistas do not accept any assistance from the government. They live autonomously from the Mexican government, but they are not financially self-sustainable. Their health clinics, schools, hospital and cooperatives have all been made possible with the generous support of national and international organizations and individuals in solidarity with their struggle.
In this brief time I had a taste of what it means to be Zapatista. I’ll admit that while I learned a lot, I walked away with a lot more questions than when I arrived. I maintain a healthy criticism, but it is certainly a unique model of indigenous organization. It requires a very significant commitment to the organization and service to your community without financial compensation. A lot of people have left the organization since the uprising, but the level of cooperative work and commitment to live something different in the community where I stayed was impressive.
I don’t agree with what I heard repeatedly that if you aren’t part of the Zapatistas you have sold out to the government. I work with and have heard of too many other organizations that do not accept government support and are struggling for the same rights as the Zapatistas to know better. And while other fellow students expressed that they wanted to stay forever, I was happy to leave with a renewed commitment to invest myself more where I am already working in rural communities.