ZAPATISTA SIXTH COMMISSION.
Mexico.

July 2021.

To the adherents of the Declaration for Life:
To the Europe from Below and to the Left:
To the National and International Sixth:
To the National Indigenous Congress-Indigenous Governing Council:
To the Networks of Resistance and Rebellion:
To the Collective «Llegó la Hora de los Pueblos«:

From: Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés.

Compañeras, compañeroas, compañeros:

Sisters, brothers, and hermanoas:

I greet you in the name of the children, women, them, elders and men of the Zapatista communities, and I communicate to you the following:

First.- We already have a strong Zapatista airborne company of 177 Zapatistas ready. It is made up in its totality by nativeso f Mayan roots, from the Cho’ol, Tzotzil, Tzeltal, Tojolabal and Castilian languages. We were born in the geography called Mexico. Our ancestors were born and died in these lands. As the Mexican State does not recognize our identity and origin, and tells us that we are “extemporaneous” (so says the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, that we are “extemporaneous” Mexicans), we have decided to baptize  this unit of Listening and Word [Escucha y Palabra] as “The Extemporaneous.”

As we saw in the dictionaries, “extemporaneous” means “that it is  inopportune, inconvenient”, or “that it is inappropriate for the time in which it happens.” In other words, that we are inopportune, inconvenient and inappropriate.

Never before have we been so adequately defined. We are happy that at last the Mexican State recognizes that this is how it considers the original peoples of this geography called Mexico. I think that’s how it laments not having annihilated us… yet; and that our existence contradicts the official discourse about the «conquest.» Now it is understood that the demand of the government of Mexico to that of Spain, demanding that it ask forgiveness, is for not having exterminated us.

Of the 177 delegates, 62 of us still do not have a passport. The Secretary of Foreign Affairs is in a bind due to the «inconvenience» that we represent. Despite the fact that we have demonstrated our identity and origin, it continues demanding more and more documents. The only thing left for them to do is to ask the governments of Central America to say that we are not citizens of those countries.

(Continuar leyendo…)

VOLANTEM EST ALIO MODO GRADIENDI[i]
(What are we waiting for?)

Any day, any month of any year.

Droughts. Floods. Earthquakes. Volcanic eruptions. Pollution. Current and future pandemics. Assassinations of leaders of originary peoples, human rights defenders and guardians of the earth. Gender violence rising to the level of genocide against women (the foolish suicide of humanity). Racism poorly hidden behind handouts. The criminalization and persecution of difference. The irreparable oblivion of forced disappearance. Repression as a response to legitimate demands. Exploitation of the many by the few. Massive initiatives for the destruction of territories. Desolate villages. The displacement of millions concealed as “migration.” Species at risk of extinction or already just a name on the list of “prehistoric animals.” Enormous profits for the richest of the world’s rich. Extreme misery for the poorest of the world’s poor. The tyranny of money. Virtual reality as a false escape from real reality. Dying nation-states. Each individual a strange enemy. Lies as government policy. Frivolity and superficiality as ideals to aspire to. Cynicism as a new religion. Death as a daily routine. War, always war.

The storm wiping out everything, whispering, advising, screaming:

Give up!

Give up!

Give up!

And nevertheless…

Out there, near and far from our lands and skies, there is someone. A woman, a man, an other [unoa otroa], a group, a collective, an organization, a movement, an originary people, a neighborhood, a street, a town, a house, a room. In the smallest, most forgotten and most distant corner there is someone who says “NO”. Someone who says it quietly, almost inaudibly: who screams it and lives and dies by it. And who rebels and resists. Someone: we must look for them. We must find them. We must listen to them. We must learn from them.

Even if we have to fly to embrace them.

Because, after all, flying is just another way of walking. And walking is our way of fighting, of living.

So, on the Journey for Life, what are we hoping for? We hope to see your heart. We hope that it’s not too late. We hope.. for everything.

I testify.
SupGaleano.
Planet Earth.. or what’s left of it.

«On lâche rien» in French, Spanish, Catalán, Basque, Galician. Interpreted by: HK et les SALTIMBANKS with LA PULQUERIA, TXARANGO, LA TROBA KUNG-FÙ, FERMIN MUGURUZA et DAKIDARRIA.

[i] Flying is another form of walking

The Journey for Life: To What End?

June 2021

A clarification: often when we say “los Zapatistas,” we are not referring to men, but to the Zapatista villages [pueblos]. And when we say “las Zapatistas,” we’re not describing women, but the Zapatista communities [comunidades]. That’s why you’ll notice this ‘gender-hopping’ in our wording. When we refer to gender we always use “otroa” to mark the existence and struggle of those who are neither men nor women (our ignorance on the subject prevents us from going to details—but soon we will learn to name all of the differences).

-*-

  That said, the first thing that you should know or understand about the Zapatistas is that when we are going to do something, we prepare first for the worst. We start with a disastrous ending and prepare in reverse to confront it, or ideally to avoid it.

For example, we imagine being attacked: the usual massacres, genocide disguised as modern civilization, total extermination—and we prepare for those possibilities. On January 1, 1994, we did not imagine defeat: we assumed it as a certainty.

Maybe that helps you understand our initial shock, hesitation, and any puzzling improvisation on our part when, after so much time, effort, and preparation for ruin, we discovered that…we live.

So it is out of that skepticism that we develop our initiatives: some smaller, some larger, all outrageous. Our calls are always directed at “the other,” that which is beyond our daily horizon but which we recognize as necessary in the struggle for life, which is to say in the struggle for humanity.

In the maritime version of this initiative-gamble-delirium-folly, we prepared for the Kraken, a storm, or a stray white whale to wreck the vessel. That’s why we carved canoes and sent them with the 421^st Squadron on La Montaña all the way to Vigo, Galicia, Spanish State, Europe.

We also knew that we might not be welcomed, so we sought in advance consensus for the invasion—that is, the visit… Actually, we’re still not sure whether we’re exactly “welcome”. For more than one man, woman, or other [una, uno, unoa], our presence is annoying, if not frankly disruptive. And we get it: it could be that after a year or more of lockdown, some might find it inconvenient that a group of indigenous Mayans, mere producers and consumers of commodities (electoral or otherwise), would try to talk in person. In person! (Do you remember how that used to be a part of daily life?) And worse, that they would make it their principal mission to listen to you, to pepper you with questions, to share nightmares and, of course, dreams.

(Continuar leyendo…)

The Landing

«El desembarco» by León Gieco performed by León Gieco (Vocals and Harmonica), Jairo (Vocals and Djembe), Silvina Moreno (Vocals), Sandra Corizzo (Vocals), Diego Boris (Harmonica), Antonio Druetta (Mandolin), Pablo Elizondo (Guitar), Luciana Elizondo (Viola da gamba). 2021.

The Landing

From the Other Europe.

Individuals, Groups, Collectives, Organizations and European movements – in collaboration with the 421st Squadron.

June 2021.

P.S. – There is a song by León Gieco[i] called «El Desembarco» [The Landing]. I had it archived in a “pending” folder for years, wondering when and in which video to use it. In the end, I thought that when the time came, I would know.

I thought, as I watched Marijose set foot on Galician soil, not about the song, but about the invisible web that brought music together with a buccaneer boot, worn on a native Mayan foot, stepping onto Iberian soil.

I did a little research and it turns out that the song was released in 2011 on an album of the same name. That was 10 years ago … or more. When was this song born in the heart of León Gieco, our unwitting brother – or sworn brother like Juan Villoro[ii] – who we hold within the great embrace that is Latin America? Months or years before?

Did León dream what the lyrics say?

Is it the same dream had by Marijose when, in April’s fiery embrace, it was decided that Marijose [elloa] would be the first to disembark? Is it the same dream that the late SupMarcos had when he wrote «Sailor on the Mountain» years before the uprising? The same one that kept Don Durito[iii] of the Lacandón Jungle awake when he imagined (or made—we’ll never know) his journey through European lands? Did Comandanta Ramona, the first to leave Zapatista territory and from whose path the National Indigenous Congress was born, dream that dream?  Is it the same one dreamed by then Lieutenant Colonel Insurgente Moisés when – in 2010, on the outskirts of a hut in the mountains of the Mexican southeast – he received the rank of Subcomandante? The one that Señor Ik, SubPedro, and 45 other Zapatistas had moments before falling in combat in January 1994? The one that, collectively, the indigenous Sami people – in the northernmost north of Europe – put forward in their Declaration for Life? Was it the dream of Gonzalo Guerrero[iv] over 500 years ago when he made the path and destiny of the Mayan people his own? Is it that dream that unsettled Jacinto Canek[v]?

Did this dream alleviate to some extent the passing of Comandante Ismael, Dr. Paulina Fernández C., Oscar Chávez, Jaime Montejo, Jean Robert, Paul Leduc, Vicente Rojo, Mario Molina, Ernesto Cardenal and so many family members – all brothers and sisters without knowing it – that we have lost in recent months?

Is it the dream that inspired Europe from below to organize such a terrible and marvelous reception in Vigo?

The one that now travels through the streets, neighborhoods, countryside, and coasts of Europe repeating «Will July rain on Paris»?

Is it the dream that inspired the voices that found echo in the emblematic reflections on the beaches of Vigo and crossed the Atlantic to now take nest in the Zapatista communities?

Because the 421st Squadron descends not from a ship, but from La Montaña, «without weapons, and for life.»

Is this what humanity is? That which weaves the long and hidden thread that unites different and distant geographies and links calendars near and far?

I do not know. But I would recommend to those whose curse is art: Give expression to that dream. Whichever it is, let it be yours.

Because you never know when and where another gaze, another ear, other hands, another step, another heart in another calendar and another geography, will need to take it down from the great shelf of hopes and dreams, open its entrails and plant it, like a seed, in painful reality.

I bear witness,

SupGaleano.
June 2021.

—

[i] Argentine folk rock performer, composer and interpreter.

[ii] Juan Villoro is a Mexican writer and journalist and the son of philosopher Luis Villoro.

[iii] Don Durito’s adventures across Europe in 1999: https://enlacezapatista.ezln.org.mx/1999/10/13/la-hora-de-los-pequenos-durito-carta-4a/

[iv] Gonzalo Guerrero was a sailor from Palos, Andalucia, Spain who was shipwrecked along the Yucatán Peninsula and taken prisoner by the local Maya. Over time he took on Mayan culture as his own, became a Mayan chief, and died fighting alongside the Maya against Spanish conquistadors in defense of Mayan territory.

[v] Jacinto Canek – 18th-century Maya revolutionary who fought against the Spanish in the Yucatán Peninsula of New Spain.

Calamidad Zapatista

 The story of the encounter between SupGaleano and Calamidad [Calamity], including the History of Popcorn and, in the sports section, the first world soccer match, as well as other unhappy (for the Sup) events

Headnotes (just to annoy the footnotes):

(1) The first version of this story was read aloud in the Second Puy ta Cuxlejaltic Film Festival, celebrated in the Caracol of Tulan Kaw in December 2019. The text was unpublished until now. This version maintains the original text and adds some details that may lead some readers to despair, accustomed as they might be to short readings with few ideas. You may detect some spoilers related to what is now known as the “Journey for Life.” Don’t worry though, it often happens that Zapatismo announces things that have not yet happened. This Zapatista irresponsibility is now legendary, so stop complaining.

(2) Unfortunately, this text doesn’t have the special effects that were used in the aforementioned caracol and that earned SupGaleano seven nominations for the “Cardboard Popcorn Kernel,” the highest prize for whomever consumes the most bowls of popcorn drenched in hot sauce without resorting to antacids, which falls in the award category of “with or without a film.”

(3) Warning: The following accounts may contain images that offend those lacking in imagination, intelligence, and other things equally devalued under modernity. It is not recommended for reading by adults over 21, unless supervised by children under 12. What?! Are you going to read on despite this serious warning? Well there you are, nobody has any principles anymore.

(4) This account is based on real events. Names have been maintained to clarify the responsible parties before the Good Government Council’s Justice Commission… What? Yes, you can doubt the truth of what is recounted here, but…didn’t you also doubt that the zapatones would invade Europe? That’s what I thought. All the beings described herein actually exist. If anyone thinks this isn’t possible, that’s not the fault of reality but rather lack of imagination.

(5) Huh? No, I’m not scolding you. As they say, I’m giving you the context for what is and what follows…

-*-

This is the story of a little Zapatista girl who no one loved because she was, and is, different, even among those who are different.

(Continuar leyendo…)

The Zapatista Passport
(See you soon, Portugal; Galicia, here we come).

June of 2021.

On June 12^th, 2021, the 421^st Squadron, as well as the rest of the passengers and crew, had their passports stamped for legal entry into the space or zone known as Schengen and disembarked in Horta, Azores Islands, Portugal, Europe. Gracefully and without losing their composure (so to speak), they debarked from La Montaña [the Mountain]. As it should be, there was a frenzy of dancing, photos, and feasting. Marijose discovered an old prophecy that predicted their arrival. And they played that so-called “game” of the kind where “last one off pays for the food” (Diego Osorno lost). There was a toast to life, of course.

-*-

At 9:17:45am on June 14^th of the current year, La Montaña pulled away from the Portuguese embrace and turned to the northeast at a speed of between 6 and 7 knots. At 12:30:06pm, the ship passed “Pico das Urzes” on the left. Latitude: 38.805213; longitude: -28.343418. Captain Ludwig planned to catch sight of the coast of the Iberian Peninsula somewhere around June 19th or 20th (although it could be sooner, as La Montaña, having reconciled with the wind, seemed eager to embrace her Portuguese and Galician sisters). From that date on, it will greet the rising waters of the San Martino, Monte Faro, and Monte Agudo Islands, and then enter Vigo Bay, planning to arrive at the Marina Punta Lagoa, north of the Port of Vigo, Galicia, Spanish State.

(Continuar leyendo…)

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CONTRA LA REPRESIÓN DE LOS MALOS GOBIERNOS.
APOYO A LA ESCUELA NORMAL RURAL MACTUMACTZÁ EN
CHIAPAS Y A LOS PUEBLOS TEPEHUANO Y WIXÁRIKA EN JALISCO.

CNI-CIG Y EZLN.

Mayo del 2021.

A la Escuela Normal Rural Mactumactzá, Chiapas.
A los pueblos tepehuano y wixárika de San Lorenzo de Azqueltán, Jalisco.
A las organizaciones y colectivos de derechos humanos.
A la Sexta Nacional e Internacional.
A los medios de comunicación.

Como pueblos originarios que somos, organizados en el Congreso Nacional Indígena-Concejo Indígena de Gobierno y el EZLN, declaramos lo siguiente:

PRIMERO.-  Expresamos nuestro repudio a las acciones represivas del mal gobierno en contra de nuestros hermanos de la Escuela Normal Rural Mactumactzá.  Una vez más con lujo de violencia se busca acallar las justas demandas de los normalistas.   El 18 de mayo el mal gobierno detuvo a 91 normalistas, incluyendo a 74 mujeres estudiantes. Éstas han denunciado que los cuerpos policiacos represivos las vieron como botín de guerra y las hostigaron sexualmente desnudándolas y manoseándolas.   L@s normalistas son acusad@s de querer que los exámenes, que les iban a practicar, sean de manera presencial y no por internet.  Con esto las autoridades educativas y gubernamentales de Chiapas muestran, una vez más que no tienen la menor idea de la geografía y la situación política y social en el estado.  Con esta acción, los malos gobiernos resumen su plan para la educación del México rural: represión, mentiras y simulación.  A nuestr@s herman@s de la Escuela Normal Rural Mactumactzá les manifestamos nuestra solidaridad completa y sin reservas; y llamamos a tod@s nuestr@s compañer@s de la Sexta Nacional e Internacional a solidarizarse con la lucha de los normalistas de Mactumactzá.  Exigimos la liberación incondicional de tod@s l@s detenido@s

SEGUNDO.- Como Congreso Nacional Indígena-Concejo Indígena de Gobierno y EZLN saludamos la Campaña Nacional e Internacional por la Justicia y el Territorio en Azquetltán, municipio de Villa Guerrero, en el estado de Jalisco, México.  Ahí resisten por la vida las hermanas y hermanos de la comunidad indígena autónoma, wixárika y tepehuana.

(Continuar leyendo…)

Dolphins!

May 2021.

It was a dramatic moment. Cornered between loose ropes and the railing, the insect menaced the crew with his sword, while out of the corner of his eye he tracked the raging sea in which a Kraken, of the “kraken escarabujos” species (specialists in beetle-eating), was lurking. Then, the intrepid stowaway gathered his bravery, raised his multiple arms to the sky and roared, drowning out the sound of the waves crashing against the hull of La Montaña:

Ich bin der Stahlkäfer, der Größte, der Beste! Beachtung! Hör auf meine Worte! (I am the stainless-steel beetle, the biggest, the best! Attention! Listen to my words!)

The crew stopped short: not because a schizophrenic insect was threatening them with a toothpick and a plastic jar cap, nor because he spoke in German. It was because upon hearing their mother language after so many years of hearing only tropical, coastal Spanish, they were transported back to their homeland as if by a spell.

Gabriela would say later that the insect’s German was closer to that of an Iranian immigrant than that of Goethe’s Faust, but the captain defended the stowaway, insisting that his German was perfectly intelligible. And, since where the captain is in charge Gabriela is not, Ete and Karl approved, and Edwin, even though he only understood the word “cumbia,” agreed. What follows is the insect’s story translated from the German:

-*-

“The indecisiveness of my attackers gave me time to rethink my defensive strategy, repair my armor (because it’s one thing to die in an unequal fight, and another to do so in rags), and launch my counteroffensive: a story…

It was several moons ago, in the mountains of the Mexican Southeast. Those who live and struggle there had set a new challenge for themselves, but at that time they were living under a cloud of worry and discouragement because they lacked a vehicle for their journey. That was how I, the great, the ineffable, the etcetera, Don Durito of the Lacandón Jungle, A.C. de C.V. de (i)R. (i)L. arrived at their mountains (the abbreviations, as you should all know, stand for “Knight Errant of Versatile Cavalry and Unlimited Responsibility”)^[i]. As soon as word of my arrival got out, a throng of women of all ages, from teenagers to the elderly, came running to greet me. But I remained firm and did not succumb to vanity. I proceeded towards the quarters of the individual in charge of the as-yet unsuccessful mission. For a moment I was baffled: the impertinent nose of he who checked and re-checked the calculations of the cost of the punitive expedition against Europe reminded me of the captain who later became known as SupMarcos, whom I spent years teaching and training with my wisdom. But no: although his appearance is similar, he who calls himself SupGaleano still has much to learn from me, the greatest of the knights errant. (Continuar leyendo…)

At Sea

May 2021

Captain Ludwig, doing his due diligence in thinking of his passengers, recommended we set sail the afternoon of May 2. The storm surge forecast for May 3 was going to make the novice sailors suffer more than enough, which is why the captain proposed moving the departure up to 16:00hrs on May 2.

Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés listened attentively and agreed. Now that it’s fashionable to use the word “historic” for practically anything, and given that this is the first time ever that Zapatismo has carried out something we planned ahead of schedule (usually we get hung up and start late), we can say that this is a historic moment for Zapatismo.

Thus the 421st Squadron set sail at 16:11:30 on May 2, 2021. Here we present two different reports from the same stretch of navigation.

Report from the 421st Squadron to the Zapatista High Command
Itinerary of the ship La Montaña. Times correspond to official Mexico City time (UTC-5).

May 2, 2021. La Montaña begins its journey at 16:11:30 at a speed of approximately 4 knots (1 knot = 1.852 km/hour). La Montaña heads south-southeast at 16:21:30, and at 17:23:04, it initiates a slight curve to the east. At 17:24:13 it initiates maneuvers to deploy full sails. The crew, with support from the 421st Squadron, hoists the sails. At 17:34 the ship continues its curve and heads east. It completes the curve at 17:41 with the southern tip of Isla Mujeres to its north, and heads northeast toward the first free territory of the Americas: Cuba. With the wind in its favor, La Montaña maintains a speed of 8-9 knots, entering the Yucatan Canal at 23:01 at 6 knots.

May 3, pre-dawn. At 01:42 at a velocity of 8 knots, La Montaña approaches the Cuban coast near Cape San Antonio. At 8:18:00, a few miles to the south of the Roncali Lighthouse, the ship turns southeast at 5 knots. At 10:35:30 it turns to the north-northeast, speeding up to 7-8 knots, and gusts of wind damage the sails. A few miles southeast of Cabo Corrientes, the captain decides to enter the Bay of the same name. At 13:55 it nears Punta Caimán on its left. On May 3 at 14:25:15, the Captain decides to drop anchor off the coast of the Cuban town “María la Gorda” (latitude 21.8225; longitude 84.4987) in order to repair the damaged sail and wait for the wind to die down.

(Continuar leyendo…)

From the Notebook of the Cat-Dog

The Boarding

We boarded La Montaña [The Mountain] on April 30, 2021, at the scheduled time. The boat was docked about 50 breaststrokes away the harbor, “far from the hustle and bustle / of fake society.”[i] Fluttering around the boat were laughing gulls, cormorants, frigate birds, corococo birds, and even a little lost hummingbird making a nest in the pulpit. In the ship’s hull beneath the water, bottlenose dolphins drummed the beat of a cumbia, a whale shark kept the rhythm with its fins, and a manta ray moved its black wings like flying hips.

The buccaneer group, headed up by Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés who, along with a troop made up of an insurgenta[ii] who is part of the Tercios Compas [Zapatista media team], an insurgente who is a driver and a mechanic, a driver who is a Zapatista base of support, 5 more Terci@s Compas, a comandanta and two comandantes[iii] came to send off the maritime delegation—the 421st Squadron—and make sure that the group had everything that they needed for the nautical epic. A support team from the Sixth Commission also attended in order to write the obituaries of those who might die during the mission.

 The ship’s crew didn’t put up any resistance. In fact, the captain had previously ordered that a large banner be raised on the mast of the boat with an image depicting the Zapatista maritime delegation, thereby including La Montaña and the whole crew in the struggle for life. With the masts and spars exposed, the symbol of Zapatista delirium rippled even more brightly in the wind.

We could say that it was a consensual boarding. There wasn’t any aggression on the part of the Zapatista troops nor by the vessel’s crew. You could say that there was a sort of mutual understanding between us and the crew of La Montaña even though in the initial meeting they were as surprised as we were.

We would have stood there looking at each other if it weren’t for an insect looking extraordinarily like a beetle who came out of the stern and screamed, “Boarding! If there’s a lot of them, we’ll run! If there’s only few, we’ll hide! And if there’s nobody, onward! We were born to die!” That was what settled everything. Bewildered, the crew looked first at the bug and then at us. We didn’t know if we should apologize for the interruption or join the pirate attack.

Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés thought it the right moment for introductions, so he said: “Good afternoon. My name is Moisés, Subcomandante Insurgente Moisés, and these are…” Turning around to present the troops, SubMoy realized that no one was there.

(Continuar leyendo…)