EZLN: A Roof in Common
A roof in common
A construction deep in the mountain. A calling for health. A masonry technique. Thousands of hands and wills, including some from across the seas. Different colors, heights, languages, cultures, and ways of life, and a roof in common.
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The concrete pour has to be done all at once. You can’t do it in sections because the roof will look bad. That’s when everyone has to work together, but in an organized way. Pouring a roof is like dancing: everyone knows their place, what they’re supposed to do, and who they’re working with. If it rains, then it’s all over. So you have to ask the most knowledgeable people, keep an eye on things, be ready. Then they announce «such and such a day,» and the crew gathers, the jobs are divided up. You have to start early, because otherwise the heat becomes unbearable and you end up feeling like a fumigated cockroach. When it’s finished, we laugh and drink pozol. For lunch, we ate beef together. There’s no party outside, but there is one in our hearts. “It’s ours,” we think. And we know it belongs to everyone and to no one. An operating room means a place where those who know how to use a knife extract the evil as if they were removing a bad thought. It takes time and leaves you a little messed up, but that’s life: it also takes time and leaves you messed up, but there are moments when the roof is done. And there’s no celebration outside, but there is in your heart. Building is like the struggle; you do it because you’ll need it someday. You or yours—not that they’re your property, but rather your family, your close friends, that is, the ‘compas’.
Yes, we need someone who knows about electricity, because there’s going to be equipment that not just anyone can handle. Single-phase, two-phase, three-phase, and grounding, and who knows what else. We already have the grounding, but you have to know about electricity because otherwise, the equipment will break down, and it’ll be for nothing. It’s like when the music stops at a dance; you’re left with the cumbia unfinished. Imagine you’re having abdominal surgery and the power goes out, and you’re left with your guts hanging out like an old bandana. That’s why we need an electrician. We just need to find someone who’s willing to work in common. Do electricians get sick too? They do, and they have needs. So that’s what we need. And windows and doors, because not just any window or door will do. Women and men doctors? We already have a team, so to speak, but more are sure to come. Because if you have a knife, a machete, a chainsaw, a drill, but no one to cut open your stomach, it’ll be for nothing, as we say here. And some doctors have already arrived to take a look. I didn’t show myself because what if the doctor sees me and wants to start practicing right away? And then there’s no special electricity. I’d better wait. But the roof is already up.
Yes, many things are still missing, but it already has a roof, and a roof is important for life. That’s why the gods made the sky, so the world would have its roof.
Yes, what’s missing is still missing.
I hope they make tamales. Yes, I hope they’re not raw.
From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast
El Capitán.
November 2025.
Images by Terci@s Compas Zapatistas
Music by El Cañón del Sonidero «Reina de Cumbias/La cumbia sobre el Río»
