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<\/a><\/p>\nPRELUDIO: LOS RELOJES, EL APOCALIPSIS Y LA HORA DE LO PEQUE\u00d1O.<\/h4>\nSeminario “Los muros del capital, las grietas de la izquierda”
\nCideci \/ Universidad de la Tierra Chiapas
\n12 de abril de 2016<\/h4>\n
\nCideci \/ Universidad de la Tierra Chiapas
\n12 de abril de 2016<\/h4>\n
[podcast]https:\/\/radiozapatista.org\/Audios\/rzchiapas\/supgaleanouno.mp3[\/podcast]<\/p>\n
12 de abril del 2017.<\/p>\n
Buenas tardes, noches, d\u00edas, madrugadas.<\/p>\n
Queremos agradecer a las compa\u00f1eras y compa\u00f1eros del CIDECI-UniTierra el que, con generosidad compa\u00f1era, hayan brindado nuevamente \u00e9ste su espacio para que podamos reunirnos.\u00a0 Y a los equipos de apoyo de la Comisi\u00f3n Sexta que se encargan del transporte (esperamos que no se vuelvan a perder), la seguridad y la log\u00edstica en este evento.<\/p>\n
Queremos agradecer tambi\u00e9n la participaci\u00f3n de quienes en estas jornadas nos acompa\u00f1ar\u00e1n con sus reflexiones y an\u00e1lisis en este seminario que hemos llamado \u201cLos Muros del Capital, las Grietas de la Izquierda<\/em>\u201d.\u00a0 As\u00ed que gracias a:<\/p>\n Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova. Tambi\u00e9n y de manera especial, agradecemos y saludamos a los medios libres, aut\u00f3nomos, independientes, alternativos o como se llamen, a elloas<\/em><\/strong> y a su esfuerzo por darle vuelo a la palabra y que lo que aqu\u00ed se reflexione llegue a otras partes.<\/p>\n -*-<\/strong><\/p>\n Hemos decidido iniciar nosotras, nosotros, zapatistas, este seminario o encuentro que forma parte de la campa\u00f1a mundial \u201cContra los Muros de Arriba, las Grietas abajo (y a la izquierda)\u201d, para permitir as\u00ed que quienes nos seguir\u00e1n en la palabra puedan deslindarse, criticar, o simplemente hacerse los occisos, u occisas, seg\u00fan.<\/p>\n Por eso estamos solos en esta mesa, s\u00f3lo acompa\u00f1ados por Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova.\u00a0 Y \u00e9l est\u00e1 aqu\u00ed por varias razones: una es que \u00e9l ya est\u00e1 m\u00e1s all\u00e1 del bien y el mal, y, lo ha demostrado a lo largo de 23 a\u00f1os, no le ocupa ni le preocupa que lo reconvengan por andar en malas compa\u00f1\u00edas.\u00a0 Otra raz\u00f3n es de por s\u00ed siempre \u00e9l dice lo que piensa.\u00a0 \u00c9l les puede decir, y dir\u00e1 verdad, que nunca le hemos impuesto ni la visi\u00f3n ni el enfoque, por eso es que no pocas veces no s\u00f3lo no coincide con nuestro pensamiento, sino que es bastante cr\u00edtico.\u00a0 Tan es as\u00ed que la clave con la que nos referimos a \u00e9l en nuestras comunicaciones internas, para que el enemigo no sepa que hablamos de \u00e9l, es \u201cPablo Contreras\u201d.\u00a0 Lo consideramos un compa\u00f1ero, uno m\u00e1s entre quienes somos lo que somos y como somos.\u00a0 Nos enorgullece la compa\u00f1\u00eda de su paso, su palabra cr\u00edtica y, sobre todo, su compromiso sin tibiezas ni dobleces.<\/p>\n Nuestra palabra de hoy la hemos preparado con el Subcomandante Insurgente Mois\u00e9s de modo que sea hilada, o al menos eso pretende.<\/p>\n S\u00e9 bien que tenemos fama de ser poco serios y bastante irresponsables, adem\u00e1s de, claro, irreverentes, empecinados y descaradamente desmadrosos<\/em>; que luego nos da por contar cuentos cuando la ocasi\u00f3n amerita solemnidad y trascendencia y la academia exige \u201cel an\u00e1lisis concreto de la realidad concreta\u201d.\u00a0 En fin, que somos transgresores de la responsabilidad, las buenas maneras y la urbanidad civilizada.<\/p>\n Pero, a pesar de eso, les voy a pedir que se pongan serios porque lo que vamos a decir hoy, provocar\u00e1 un alud de descalificaciones y ataques.<\/p>\n Bueno, uno m\u00e1s, aparte del ya protagonizado por la histeria ilustrada de la izquierda institucional que, ingenua, piensa que llegar\u00e1 al Poder, ahora s\u00ed, porque ha conseguido tempranamente lo que ya se anunciaba, es decir, se ha convertido en un clon de lo que dice combatir, corrupci\u00f3n incluida.\u00a0 Ese progresismo ilustrado que ha elevado a conceptos de las ciencias sociales categor\u00edas tales como \u201ccomplot\u201d, \u201cmafia del poder\u201d y que prodiga perdones, absoluciones y amnist\u00edas cuando de arriba se trata, y sentencias y condenas cuando al abajo se refiere.\u00a0 Eso s\u00ed, hay que reconocer que esa izquierda ilustrada es de deshonestidad valiente, porque no teme hacer el rid\u00edculo una y otra vez para convencerse a s\u00ed misma y a los feligreses de temporada que \u201cregenerar\u201d es sin\u00f3nimo de \u201creciclar\u201d en lo que a la clase pol\u00edtica y empresarial se refiere.<\/p>\n Lo que queremos decirles puntualmente hoy es breve, e iniciaremos expres\u00e1ndolo en algunas de las lenguas originarias que se hacen palabra en nuestro paso:<\/p>\n Tiene la palabra chol la Comandanta Amada.<\/p>\n Tiene la palabra tojolabal la Comandanta Everilda.<\/p>\n Tiene la palabra tzotzil la Comandanta Jesica.<\/p>\n Tiene la palabra tzeltal la Comandanta Miriam.<\/p>\n Tiene la palabra castilla la Comandanta Dalia.<\/p>\n Lo que han dicho las compa\u00f1eras y compa\u00f1eros, en espa\u00f1ol se puede traducir como \u201cVete a la chingada Trump<\/em>\u201d, pero no lo voy a decir as\u00ed para que no me acusen de prosaico y grosero.\u00a0 Entonces lo traduciremos con un lac\u00f3nico: \u201cFuck Trump<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n Establecido lo m\u00e1s importante y serio que tenemos que decir en este seminario o como se llame esta reuni\u00f3n que, en realidad, tiene como objetivo principal darle a Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova un abrazo colectivo, ahora podemos pasar a lo que no es tan importante: nuestro pensamiento.<\/p>\n -*-<\/strong><\/p>\n LOS RELOJES.<\/strong><\/p>\n El tiempo, siempre el tiempo.\u00a0 Relojes.\u00a0 Segundos, minutos, horas, d\u00edas, semanas, meses, a\u00f1os, lustros, d\u00e9cadas, siglos.\u00a0 El tic tac fren\u00e9tico de la bomba del Capital, el terrorista por excelencia, ahora amenazando a la humanidad entera.\u00a0 Pero tambi\u00e9n el tiempo vuelto calendario y modo, seg\u00fan cada quien, seg\u00fan la lucha de abajo y a la izquierda, resistencia y rebeld\u00eda.<\/p>\n Hace 21 a\u00f1os, en los llamados Di\u00e1logos de San Andr\u00e9s, desesperada porque el zapatismo deb\u00eda consultar hasta el m\u00e1s m\u00ednimo acuerdo con los pueblos, la delegaci\u00f3n gubernamental cuestionaba a la delegaci\u00f3n zapatista sobre sus relojes.\u00a0 Palabras m\u00e1s, palabras menos, les reclamaban: \u201cUstedes hablan mucho de que el tiempo zapatista y traen relojes digitales y tienen la misma hora que nuestros relojes<\/em>\u201d.\u00a0 Las carcajadas de los Comandantes Tacho y Zebedeo resonaron entonces en el peque\u00f1o cuarto donde se realizaban las pl\u00e1ticas.<\/p>\n \u00c9sa fue la respuesta zapatista al cuestionamiento gubernamental.\u00a0 En un costado, como miembros de la Comisi\u00f3n Nacional de Intermediaci\u00f3n, atestiguaban, entre otros, Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova, y un artista de la palabra; el poeta Juan Ba\u00f1uelos, quien falleci\u00f3 hace unos d\u00edas y que, en uno de los acompa\u00f1amientos que hizo con la delegaci\u00f3n en el dilatado trayecto hasta La Realidad zapatista, junto al tambi\u00e9n hoy finado SupMarcos defendi\u00f3 \u201cLos Versos del Capit\u00e1n\u201d de Pablo Neruda, que alguien atacaba por ser \u201cpoes\u00eda demasiado pol\u00edtica\u201d.\u00a0 \u201cEso no es poes\u00eda\u201d, argumentaba el de la diatriba, \u201ces un panfleto\u201d.<\/p>\n Sigui\u00f3 el silencio en el trayecto. Juan Ba\u00f1uelos miraba las monta\u00f1as, tal vez hilando en su pensamiento el poema \u201cEl Correo de la Selva\u201d en el que, contra lo que se ha dicho, no habla de s\u00ed mismo, sino de quien hac\u00eda de correo entre la CONAI y el EZLN, arriesgando vida, libertad y bienes en los tiempos aciagos de la traici\u00f3n zedillista de 1995 (uno de sus operadores, Esteban Moctezuma Barrag\u00e1n, es hoy uno de los absueltos y elevado a dirigente estrat\u00e9gico de punta del \u201ccambio verdadero\u201d).<\/p>\n Por su parte, me imagino que el difunto SupMarcos respiraba aliviado al avistar territorio zapatista y tal vez, en un murmullo premonitorio, recitaba para s\u00ed los \u00faltimos versos de \u201cLa Carta en el Camino\u201d de Pablo Neruda, el poema con el que cierra el libro \u201cLos versos del Capit\u00e1n\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cY as\u00ed esta carta se termina<\/em> -*-<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0 Sobre el tema del tiempo (el \u201ctimming<\/em>\u201d dicen los obesos y perezosos tanques del pensamiento de arriba), nos han querido criticar y catalogar.\u00a0 Por ejemplo, nos han dicho que, en la era digital, nosotras, nosotros, zapatistas, somos como esos relojes que funcionan con muelles, engranes y resortes, y a los que hay que darles cuerda manual.<\/p>\n \u201cAnacr\u00f3nicos\u201d, dijeron.\u00a0 \u201cEl pasado que viene a pedir cuentas\u201d, sentenciaron.\u00a0 \u201cEl rezago hist\u00f3rico\u201d, murmuraron.\u00a0 \u201cUn pendiente de la modernidad\u201d, amenazaron.<\/p>\n Bueno, con nuestro acostumbrado sentido de la oportunidad, les decimos que no somos como un reloj de cuerda manual en la era de los smartwatch,<\/em><\/strong> que te miden las calor\u00edas consumidas y consumadas, el ritmo card\u00edaco, adem\u00e1s de que te dicen si te mueves bien o mal cuando los cuerpos desnudos repiten la, \u00e9sa s\u00ed anacr\u00f3nica, ceremonia del encuentro de pieles y humedades.\u00a0 Son tan modernos y avanzados esos relojes que en ellos, a veces, hasta puedes ver qu\u00e9 hora es.<\/p>\n Cierto, es \u00e9sta una \u00e9poca donde la realidad virtual aventaja con mucho a la realidad real y cualquier imb\u00e9cil puede simular sapiencia gracias a que las redes sociales le permiten encontrar ecos igualmente necios y c\u00ednicos; \u00e9poca donde la pretendida originalidad de la antipat\u00eda se anula al hacerse patente que la impertinencia, la ignorancia y la pedanter\u00eda es una \u201cindividualidad\u201d que es compartida por millones de nicknames<\/em>, como si la estupidez no fuera sino un solitario ser multicuentas,<\/em> y la misoginia del Calder\u00f3n y la Calderona tienen sus pares en todo el universo de las redes sociales, incluso en quienes, con maestr\u00edas y doctorados en la izquierda bien portada e institucional, se refieren a la posible vocera del Concejo Ind\u00edgena de Gobierno con el sarc\u00e1stico mote de \u201cla Tonantzin\u201d.<\/p>\n Pero lo que en la derecha es delito denunciable jur\u00eddicamente, en la izquierda institucional es un gracioso comentario que no merece ser penado, sino celebrado.\u00a0 Aunque se vista de \u00fanica e irrepetible, y dirija un suplemento, la imbecilidad es la m\u00e1s com\u00fan y corriente de las caracter\u00edsticas humanas en el espectro pol\u00edtico de un arriba en el que las diferencias se diluyen incluso en las encuestas.<\/p>\n Pero en esta era tecnol\u00f3gica que nos contempla con reprobaci\u00f3n burlona, nosotras, nosotros, zapatistas, somos m\u00e1s bien como un reloj de arena.<\/p>\n Un reloj de arena que, aunque no pide actualizaci\u00f3n cada 15 minutos y no requiere tener saldo activo para funcionar, tiene que renovar una y otra vez su limitado conteo.<\/p>\n Aunque poco pr\u00e1ctico e inc\u00f3modo, como de por s\u00ed somos los zapatistas, las zapatistas, el reloj de arena tiene sus ventajas.<\/p>\n Por ejemplo, en el podemos ver el tiempo transcurrido, ver el pasado, tratar de entenderlo.<\/p>\n Y podemos ver, tambi\u00e9n, el tiempo que viene.<\/p>\n No se puede entender el tiempo zapatista si no se entiende la mirada que le lleva la cuenta en un reloj de arena.<\/p>\n Por eso, les hemos tra\u00eddo aqu\u00ed, por esta \u00fanica ocasi\u00f3n, dama, caballero, otroa<\/em><\/strong>, ni\u00f1a, ni\u00f1o, este reloj de arena al que hemos bautizado como modelo \u201cNo sabes nada John Snow<\/em><\/strong>\u201d.<\/p>\n V\u00e9alo usted, aprecie la perfecci\u00f3n en sus l\u00edneas curvadas que recuerdan que el mundo no es redondo y sin embargo se mueve, da vueltas, y, como dijo Mercedes Sosa en su tiempo, \u201ccambia, todo cambia<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n V\u00e9alo usted y entienda que no nos entiende, pero que no importa; que, como luego se dice, no hay pedo, porque no es hacia nuestro modo arcaico (que, m\u00e1s que pre moderno, es prehist\u00f3rico) donde le pedimos que mire, no.\u00a0 Es m\u00e1s all\u00e1 hacia donde necesitamos su vigilancia.<\/p>\n Porque entendemos que a usted le piden que ponga atenci\u00f3n a ese breve instante en que un granito de arena llega al reducido pasaje para caer y sumarse a los instantes que se acumulan en eso que llamamos \u201cpasado\u201d.<\/p>\n Porque eso le insin\u00faan, le aconsejan, le piden, le ordenan, le mandan: viva el instante, viva ese presente que ya puede reducir a\u00fan m\u00e1s con la m\u00e1s alta y sofisticada tecnolog\u00eda.\u00a0 No piense en el tiempo que ya yace en el ayer, porque en el v\u00e9rtigo de la modernidad, es lo mismo \u201chace un segundo\u201d que \u201chace un siglo\u201d.<\/p>\n Pero, sobre todo, no se asome a lo que viene despu\u00e9s.<\/p>\n Y, claro, nosotras, nosotros, a contrapelo, de contreras nom\u00e1s, de mulas pues (sin agraviar a nadie en particular, cada quien con su cada cual), estamos analizando y cuestionando al granito de arena que, an\u00f3nimo, est\u00e1 en medio de los dem\u00e1s, esperando su turno para colarse por el angosto t\u00fanel, al mismo tiempo que miramos al que yace abajo y a la izquierda en lo que llamamos \u201cpasado\u201d, pregunt\u00e1ndose el uno y el otro qu\u00e9 rayos tienen qu\u00e9 ver ellos en esta pl\u00e1tica sobre los muros del Capital y las grietas de abajo.<\/p>\n Y nosotras, nosotros, con un ojo en el gato y otro en el garabato, o sea el perro, con lo que el \u201cgato-perro\u201d se convierte en herramienta de an\u00e1lisis en el pensamiento cr\u00edtico, y deja de ser la constante compa\u00f1\u00eda de una ni\u00f1a que se imagina sin miedo, libre, compa\u00f1era.<\/p>\n Pero no es al zapatismo al que le invitamos tratar de entender o de explicar.\u00a0 Aunque, claro, si usted quiere reiterar su torpeza, limitaci\u00f3n y dogmatismo anti o pro, pues qui\u00e9nes somos nosotros para impedirlo.<\/p>\n Y entonces le decimos que no, que no valemos la pena, que el zapatismo es s\u00f3lo una lucha m\u00e1s entre muchas.\u00a0 Si acaso la m\u00e1s peque\u00f1a en cuanto a su n\u00famero, su impacto, su trascendencia.<\/p>\n Aunque, eso s\u00ed, acaso la m\u00e1s irreverente si la referimos al enemigo que ha elegido, a su aspiraci\u00f3n, su objetivo, su horizonte, su necio empe\u00f1o en construir un mundo donde quepan muchos mundos, todos, los que est\u00e1n, los que nacer\u00e1n.<\/p>\n Y todo esto mientras, con absurda obstinaci\u00f3n, volteamos una y otra vez el reloj de arena, como si quisi\u00e9ramos decirles, decirnos, que eso es la lucha: algo donde no hay descanso, donde se debe resistir y no abrir las puertas de la prudente cobard\u00eda que, con el letrero de \u201cSALIDA\u201d, aparecen a lo largo de todo el camino.<\/p>\n La lucha es algo donde hay que estar atento al todo y a las partes, y estar listas, listos, porque ese \u00faltimo granito de arena no es el \u00faltimo, sino el primero, y que hay que darle vuelta al reloj de arena, porque ah\u00ed no est\u00e1 el hoy, sino el ayer y, s\u00ed, tiene usted raz\u00f3n, tambi\u00e9n el ma\u00f1ana.<\/p>\n As\u00ed que ah\u00ed tiene usted el secreto del m\u00e9todo zapatista para el an\u00e1lisis y la reflexi\u00f3n: ni siquiera usamos un reloj de cuerda manual, sino que es un reloj de arena.<\/p>\n Claro, se entiende, qu\u00e9 se puede esperar de quienes ahora sostienen que en esta \u00e9poca, adem\u00e1s de la l\u00f3gica del dinero, est\u00e1 globalizada la se\u00f1ora madre de Donaldo Trump porque en todo el planeta se la recuerdan, se la mencionan, es decir, se la mientan.<\/p>\n O tal vez usamos un reloj de arena porque nuestro af\u00e1n de entender no es inter\u00e9s acad\u00e9mico, cient\u00edfico o descriptivo, o pretendido y torpe tribunal que piensa que sabe todo y puede opinar de todo, porque, es sabido y lo confirman las redes sociales, cualquier tonter\u00eda encuentra seguidores, y se conforman los reba\u00f1os para el pastor que, a su vez, es parte del reba\u00f1o de otro pastor y as\u00ed les va.<\/p>\n No, nuestro inter\u00e9s es subversivo.\u00a0 Combatimos al enemigo.\u00a0 Queremos saber c\u00f3mo es, cu\u00e1l es su genealog\u00eda, su \u201cmodus operandi\u201d podr\u00edamos decir siguiendo a El\u00edas Contreras, un finado comisi\u00f3n de investigaci\u00f3n del EZLN, que sosten\u00eda que el capitalismo era un criminal y que la realidad entera en el mundo era la escena del crimen y como tal deber\u00eda ser estudiada y analizada.<\/p>\n Y ahora se me ocurre que las pistas dejadas por El\u00edas Contreras, las dejadas por el ahora finado SupMarcos, las que nosotras, nosotros, zapatistas, les vamos dejando a usted, dama, caballero, otroa<\/em><\/strong>, ni\u00f1a, ni\u00f1o, j\u00f3venes aunque no en el calendario pero s\u00ed en la mirada, son, todas, se\u00f1ales para un camino.<\/p>\n Y el truco, la ma\u00f1a como dice el SubMoy, la \u201cmagia\u201d como dec\u00eda el SupMarcos, est\u00e1 en que esas pistas no son para que nos encuentren, nos descubran, nos atrapen.\u00a0 Son, seg\u00fan este apunte que he encontrado en el ba\u00fal de los recuerdos del SupMarcos y que ahora releo desconcertado, para que no s\u00f3lo encuentren el espejo, sino para que vayan construyendo la respuesta, su respuesta suya de usted, a la pregunta apocal\u00edptica que lo abofetear\u00e1 en el rostro, sin importar su color, su g\u00e9nero o transg\u00e9nero<\/em>, su creencia o descreencia, sus filias y fobias pol\u00edticas e ideol\u00f3gicas, su modo, su tiempo, su geograf\u00eda.<\/p>\n La pregunta que anuncia el apocalipsis m\u00e1s terrible y maravilloso: \u00bfY t\u00fa qu\u00e9?<\/em><\/p>\n El apocalipsis que, seg\u00fan cuenta la ni\u00f1a autodenominada Defensa Zapatista, es de g\u00e9nero. \u00a0\u201cVa en su cuenta de los pinches hombres<\/em>\u201d sentencia cada que puede, venga o no al caso, esta ni\u00f1a que sue\u00f1a con completar su equipo de f\u00fatbol.<\/p>\n \u201cYa est\u00e1 cabal todo, aunque el bal\u00f3n est\u00e1 un poco como bollado, como que lo pegaron en su cabeza y la tiene llena de chipotes<\/em>\u201d, me responde la ni\u00f1a a una pregunta que ni siquiera pens\u00e9.<\/p>\n \u201cY, claro, falta completar el equipo, pero no preocupas Sup, ya vamos a ser m\u00e1s, de repente dilata, pero ya vamos a ser m\u00e1s<\/em>\u201d, me dice tratando de tranquilizarme mientras en el caracol esperamos, inquietos, que encuentren al equipo de apoyo que est\u00e1 perdido.<\/p>\n El Subcomandante Insurgente Mois\u00e9s murmura \u201cmta, creo que tenemos que hacer un equipo de apoyo para el equipo de apoyo, porque siempre les pasa algo<\/em>\u201d, mientras Defensa Zapatista trata de convencerme de que busque entre ustedes a prospectos para corretear detr\u00e1s de un bal\u00f3n deforme por un potrero hoy lleno de garrapatas y una que otra nauyaca<\/em>, y apenas hace unos d\u00edas brillando por el agua encharcada de una lluvia a la que, es seguro, le falla el reloj porque nada ten\u00eda qu\u00e9 hacer en abril.<\/p>\n Las indicaciones que recibo de la ni\u00f1a distan de ser sencillas.\u00a0 El equipo no necesita portero, posici\u00f3n ocupada, lo s\u00e9, por un viejo caballo tuerto que se diferencia de los dem\u00e1s en que no tiene lazo, ni marca, ni due\u00f1o alguno y mastica despreocupado una botella de pl\u00e1stico vac\u00eda en la que ya no se nota la marca de conocido refresco de cola.<\/p>\n La posici\u00f3n de defensa, es obvio, tambi\u00e9n ya est\u00e1 cubierta.\u00a0 Y el equipo tiene un extremo izquierdo que m\u00e1s bien parece un gato\u2026 o un perro, que, bueno, ah\u00ed va el mouse de la compu del SubMoy, y ah\u00ed va persigui\u00e9ndolo el Monarca gritando \u201c\u00a1pinche perro!\u201d y la insurgenta Erika aclara que no es perro, y el Monarca \u201cgato, entonces\u201d.\u00a0 \u201cTampoco\u201d , dice la Erika que s\u00f3lo quiere asegurarse de que el gato-perro escape ileso, y lo logra.<\/p>\n Tambi\u00e9n forma parte de la siempre incompleta alineaci\u00f3n el Pedrito, quien, seg\u00fan entiendo por el esquema que Defensa Zapatista despliega frente a m\u00ed, es una especie de l\u00edbero multi posiciones.\u00a0 \u201cEs que acaso obedece el Pedrito<\/em>\u201d, me aclara, \u201cun d\u00eda quiere ser portero, otro d\u00eda delantero, defensa que ni lo sue\u00f1e<\/em>\u201d advierte la ni\u00f1a.\u00a0 Luego a\u00f1ade: \u201cpero as\u00ed son de por s\u00ed los pinches hombres que un rato dicen una cosa y al otro rato anda vete<\/em>\u201d, mientras me mira con los ojos entrecerrados y pone su mejor cara de \u201cFuck Trump y hazte a un lado no te vaya yo a salpicar o ah\u00ed lo veas si t\u00fa tambi\u00e9n\u201d.<\/p>\n Antes de salir, Defensa Zapatista me resume: \u201cO\u00ed Sup, no cualquiera, eh, tiene que ser de disciplina y de lucha, porque si no luego se desmayan r\u00e1pido y en el equipo s\u00f3lo resistencia y rebeld\u00eda<\/em>\u201d.\u00a0 Yo no quise desilusionarla, pero tan s\u00f3lo el requisito de disciplina deja fuera a todos los equipos de apoyo y a todos, todas y todoas<\/em> loas<\/em> presentes, empezando, claro, por Pablo Contreras aqu\u00ed presente.<\/p>\n Para el finado SupMarcos, seg\u00fan me enter\u00e9 despu\u00e9s de su muerte y rescatando sus letras, el apocalipsis no es el espejo ni la pregunta, sino la respuesta.\u00a0 \u201cAh\u00ed<\/em>\u201d, escribi\u00f3 con su torpe letra de ni\u00f1o mal aplicado y reprobado perene en caligraf\u00eda, \u201cAh\u00ed es donde el mundo se acaba\u2026 o comienza<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n Ya volver\u00e9 en otra ocasi\u00f3n sobre estas hojas manchadas de humedad y tabaco que, junto con otras y en un ba\u00fal de tela corro\u00edda y rota, me entreg\u00f3 el SupMarcos momentos antes de su muerte, con una lac\u00f3nica sentencia: \u201cAh\u00ed lo veas<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n La misma frase me la repiti\u00f3 cuando bajaba del templete en La Realidad, a\u00fan caliente sobre la tierra la sangre de mi hermano muerto, el maestro Galeano, cuando, como premonici\u00f3n de lo que vendr\u00eda despu\u00e9s, la \u00fanica luz era la de la lluvia que romp\u00eda la l\u00f3gica de ese mayo ya pasado en calendarios.<\/p>\n No, no hablar\u00e9 de ese escrito.\u00a0 O no todav\u00eda.\u00a0 Tampoco del que acabo de encontrar y que, desafiante, tiene este breve t\u00edtulo: \u201cDe c\u00f3mo Durito decidi\u00f3 abrazar la noble profesi\u00f3n de la Andante Caballer\u00eda y se dio en recorrer el mundo desfaciendo entuertos, socorriendo al desvalido, rescatando al oprimido, apoyando al d\u00e9bil y arrancando suspiros libidinosos en las recatadas doncellas, as\u00ed como resoplidos de envidia en los machines.\u00a0 Informes, presupuestos sin compromiso y contrataciones en Hojita de Huapac #69<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n S\u00ed, coincido con ustedes, es un t\u00edtulo tan modesto como su protagonista.<\/p>\n Pero no se los leer\u00e9 ahora, y no porque no quiera escuchar las sonrisas que les arrancar\u00eda esa historia, escrita con el pu\u00f1o y letra del finado y con la sola aclaraci\u00f3n de lugar y fecha: \u201cCampamento Watapil, Sierra del Almendro, abril de 1986<\/em>\u201d se alcanza a leer, es decir, har\u00e1 unos 30 a\u00f1os, sino porque ahora no viene al caso o cosa, seg\u00fan.<\/p>\n Claro, usted se est\u00e1 encabronando porque, piensa, para qu\u00e9 se las estoy dando a desear si ni-mais-palomas-naranjas-podridas-niguas-nones-nel-pastel<\/em>, que ahorita no les voy a leer la historia de t\u00edtulo tan breve como clarificador, pero d\u00e9jeme decirle que esos papeles encontrados en el ba\u00fal del SupMarcos me hicieron recordar algo ocurrido cuando no se cumpl\u00eda a\u00fan, en el reloj de La Realidad, la hora de su muerte:<\/p>\n El SupMoy y el ahora finado SupMarcos regresaron de la reuni\u00f3n con el Comit\u00e9 Clandestino Revolucionario Ind\u00edgena-Comandancia General del EZLN, celebrada en uno de los galerones del caracol de La Realidad, y me mandaron llamar.<\/p>\n Yo entend\u00ed que hab\u00eda llegado la hora en los dos relojes que el ahora difunto portaba desde el primero de enero de 1994.\u00a0 Porque yo sab\u00eda que su muerte se hab\u00eda ya decidido, pero no el cu\u00e1ndo.\u00a0 El que me mandaran llamar s\u00f3lo significaba una cosa: el fallecimiento era inminente y me dar\u00eda \u00e9l las \u00faltimas instrucciones antes de mi nacimiento.<\/p>\n El SupMoy se tuvo que retirar y qued\u00e9 solo con el SupMarcos.<\/p>\n \u00c9l me entreg\u00f3 una peque\u00f1a maletita de tela, vieja y mal parchada, sin decirme nada m\u00e1s.<\/p>\n Yo pregunt\u00e9 qu\u00e9 hac\u00eda con eso y \u00e9l s\u00f3lo me respondi\u00f3 que yo sabr\u00eda qu\u00e9 hacer llegado el momento.\u00a0 Asent\u00ed en silencio.<\/p>\n Despu\u00e9s me dio las indicaciones de la ubicaci\u00f3n de un buz\u00f3n de monta\u00f1a donde, me dijo, ten\u00eda guardados varios libros.<\/p>\n Ahora me vienen a la memoria: las antolog\u00edas po\u00e9ticas de Le\u00f3n Felipe y Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez, el Romancero Gitano de Garc\u00eda Lorca, los dos tomos del Quijote, \u201cLos versos del capit\u00e1n\u201d de Pablo Neruda, una edici\u00f3n biling\u00fce de sonetos de William Shakespeare, \u201cHistorias de Cronopios y de Famas\u201d de Julio Cort\u00e1zar, y otros que ahora no recuerdo.<\/p>\n Se me hizo raro que en su \u00faltima voluntad, tuviera lugar en su pensamiento para recomendar el rescate de unos libros que, lo m\u00e1s probable, ya estar\u00edan hechos pedazos por la humedad y la hormiga arriera.<\/p>\n Debo haber hecho alg\u00fan gesto porque \u00e9l se sinti\u00f3 obligado a explicar: \u201cNo hay soledad m\u00e1s desesperanzadora que un libro sin quien lo lea<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n Yo no dije nada, s\u00f3lo escrib\u00ed en clave los datos del buz\u00f3n.<\/p>\n Luego, \u00e9l me pregunto como de por s\u00ed era su modo en las indicaciones finales: \u201c\u00bfDudas, preguntas, angustias, inconformidades, mentadas de menta o de las otras?<\/em>\u201d.<\/p>\n Qued\u00e9 pensando.<\/p>\n \u201cTengo pregunta<\/em>\u201d, le dije, pero no porque la tuviera, \u00a0sino para darme tiempo y poder pensar algo.<\/p>\n \u00c9l aguard\u00f3 en silencio.<\/p>\n Y no s\u00e9 por qu\u00e9 le pregunt\u00e9 de Durito.<\/p>\n Si, ya lo s\u00e9, deber\u00eda haberle preguntado otras cosas, por ejemplo, las razones de su muerte, o la siempre urgente pregunta de \u201c\u00bfqu\u00e9 sigue?\u201d.\u00a0 Pero no, le pregunt\u00e9 de Durito.<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00bfPor qu\u00e9 elegiste como personaje a un insecto?\u00a0 Lo del Viejo Antonio lo entiendo, lo mismo con los ni\u00f1os y ni\u00f1as, pero \u00bfun insecto?\u00a0 Y peor, \u00a1un escarabajo!\u00a0 Los escarabajos que hay ac\u00e1 son de los que hacen su nido con esti\u00e9rcol y ah\u00ed tienen sus cr\u00edas.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00c9l encendi\u00f3 la pipa y respondi\u00f3 entre bocanadas de humo:<\/p>\n \u201cEn primer lugar, como te enterar\u00e1s en unos minutos, ellos no son los personajes, sino yo.\u00a0 Y en lo que se refiere a Don Durito, pues es el peque\u00f1o, d\u00e9bil e insignificante que se levanta, se rebela y desaf\u00eda todo, incluido su destino impuesto<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEn lo que se refiere al esti\u00e9rcol, los escarabajos no son los \u00fanicos que en estas tierras trabajan con esti\u00e9rcol y hasta lo usan para sus casas.\u00a0 Tambi\u00e9n los ind\u00edgenas.\u00a0 Bueno, eso antes de nuestro alzamiento.<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n S\u00ed, hablamos de otras cosas, pero no porque fuera un interrogatorio, sino porque el inicio del funeral se iba retrasando y el SupMarcos de por s\u00ed as\u00ed hac\u00eda, que mientras pensaba en algo se pon\u00eda a platicar de cualquier cosa o de lo que le preguntaban, como si necesitara ocupar su pensamiento en varias cosas a la vez para poder resolver la principal.<\/p>\n De \u00e9sas otras cosas, no s\u00e9, tal vez, es un supositorio, ya les contar\u00e9 en otra ocasi\u00f3n.\u00a0 O no, saber.<\/p>\n Pero lo de la liga entre el escarabajo y los ind\u00edgenas zapatistas, tal vez lo entiendan mejor en las historias que ahora siguen en la voz del SupMoy.<\/p>\n Le paso entonces la palabra a nuestro jefe y vocero, el Subcomandante Insurgente Mois\u00e9s, quien reci\u00e9n viene de lo m\u00e1s profundo de la selva lacandona, a donde fue para explicarnos por qu\u00e9 el mundo capitalista semeja una finca amurallada.<\/p>\n Muchas gracias.<\/p>\n SupGaleano.<\/p>\n M\u00e9xico, abril del 2017.[:en]<\/p>\n [podcast]https:\/\/radiozapatista.org\/Audios\/rzchiapas\/supgaleanouno.mp3[\/podcast]<\/p>\n Good afternoon, evening, day, morning.<\/p>\n We want to thank the compa\u00f1eras<\/em> and compa\u00f1eros <\/em>of CIDECI-UniTierra for having offered, with compa\u00f1ero<\/em> generosity, this, their space, once again in order that we can meet here; as well as the support teams for the Comisi\u00f3n Sexta<\/em> [Sixth Commission of the EZLN] who are in charge of transportation (we hope they don\u2019t get lost again), logistics, and security for this event.<\/p>\n We also appreciate the participation of those who will accompany us with their reflections and analysis in this seminar which we\u2019ve called \u201cThe Walls of Capital, the Cracks of the Left.<\/em>\u201d So thank you to:<\/p>\n Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova.<\/p>\n Mar\u00eda de Jes\u00fas Patricio Mart\u00ednez.<\/p>\n Paulina Fern\u00e1ndez C.<\/p>\n Alicia Castellanos.<\/p>\n Magdalena G\u00f3mez.<\/p>\n Gilberto L\u00f3pez y Rivas.<\/p>\n Luis Hern\u00e1ndez Navarro.<\/p>\n Carlos Aguirre Rojas.<\/p>\n Arturo Anguiano.<\/p>\n Christian Ch\u00e1vez.<\/p>\n Carlos Gonz\u00e1lez.<\/p>\n Sergio Rodr\u00edguez Lascano.<\/p>\n Tom Hansen.<\/p>\n In addition, we\u2019d like to offer special thanks and greetings to the free, autonomous, independent, alternative, or whatever they\u2019re called media, for their efforts in giving words wings and allowing what is reflected on here to reach other shores.<\/p>\n -*-<\/strong><\/p>\n We Zapatista men and women have decided that we should begin this seminar or meeting, which forms part of the world campaign \u201cAgainst the Walls Above, The Cracks Below (And to the Left),<\/em>\u201d so that those who follow us in speaking here can distance themselves, criticize, or simply play dumb, according to their preference.<\/p>\n That\u2019s why we\u2019re alone on this panel, accompanied only by Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova. He is here for several reasons: one is that he is beyond good and evil, and, as he has demonstrated throughout the last 23 years, it doesn\u2019t bother him one bit if he is criticized for hanging out with \u201cbad company.\u201d Another reason is that he always says what he thinks. He can tell you, and he\u2019d be telling the truth, that we have never imposed on him a vision or a focus; that\u2019s why not just a few times he\u2019s not only disagreed with us, but been quite critical. This fact is so pronounced that the code with which we refer to him in our internal communications, so that the enemy doesn\u2019t know we\u2019re talking about him, is \u201cPablo Contrarian.\u201d We consider him a compa\u00f1ero<\/em>, another one of us who is what we are and how we are. We\u2019re proud to be accompanied by his step, his critical words and, above all, his commitment free of duplicity and indifference.<\/p>\n With Subcomandante Insurgente Mois\u00e9s, we\u2019ve prepared our remarks today so that they are threaded together, or at least that\u2019s what we\u2019ve tried to do.<\/p>\n I know well that we have a reputation for not being serious and in fact quite irresponsible, not to mention, of course, irreverent, stubborn, and shameless trouble makers: often we start telling stories when the occasion merits solemnity and transcendence and the academy demands \u201cconcrete analysis of the concrete reality.\u201d In sum, we\u2019re transgressors of responsibility, good manners, and civilized urbanity.<\/p>\n But despite that, I\u2019m going to ask you to get serious because what we say today is going to provoke a flood of attacks and disqualifications.<\/p>\n Well, one more attack, besides the one already carried out by the cultured hysteria of the institutional left which naively thinks it will take Power, finally, because it\u2019s been able to achieve early on what was predicted, that is to say, it has become a clone of that which it claims to combat, corruption included. It is that cultured progressivism which has elevated as social science concepts categories like \u201cconspiracy,\u201d \u201cmafia of power\u201d[i]<\/a> and which offers pardons, absolutions, and amnesty when it\u2019s those above who are in question, and convictions and sentences where those below are concerned. That much is for sure, it must be recognized that the cultured left is brave in its dishonesty, unafraid to play the fool time and time again to convince itself and this season\u2019s followers that \u201cregeneration\u201d is synonymous with \u201crecycling\u201d as far as the political and corporate class is concerned.<\/p>\n What we want to say to you today is brief, and we will begin by expressing it in a few of the originary languages that become words along our path:<\/p>\n The Chol will be spoken by Comandanta Amada.<\/p>\n The Tojolabal will be spoken by Comandanta Everilda.<\/p>\n The Tzotzil will be spoken by Comandanta Jesica.<\/p>\n The Tzeltal will be spoken by Comandanta Miriam.<\/p>\n The Spanish will be spoken by Comandanta Dalia.<\/p>\n What the compa\u00f1eros<\/em> and compa\u00f1eras<\/em> have said can be translated into Spanish as \u201cVete a la chingada Trump,<\/em>\u201d but I\u2019m not going to say it that way so no one can accuse me of being vulgar. So we\u2019ll translate it laconically as: \u201cFuck Trump.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Having established the most important and serious thing we have to say in this seminar, or whatever you want to call this meeting which really has as its principal objective to give Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova a collective embrace, we can now proceed to that which is not so important: our thought.<\/p>\n -*-<\/strong><\/p>\n Time Pieces<\/strong><\/p>\n Time, always time. Clocks. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, lustrums, decades, centuries. The frenetic tic-tac of Capital\u2019s bomb, terrorist par excellance<\/em>, now threatening all of humanity. But also time turned calendar and custom, according to each people, according to the struggle from below and to the left, resistance and rebellion.<\/p>\n Twenty-one years ago, in the so-called San Andr\u00e9s Dialogues, exasperated because Zapatismo insisted on consulting the communities on even the smallest proposed agreements, the government delegation questioned the Zapatista delegation about its watches. Their complaint went more or less like this: \u201cYou all talk a lot about Zapatista time but you\u2019re wearing digital watches that read the same time as our clocks.\u201d<\/em> The uproarious laughter of Comandantes Tacho and Zebedo reverberated in the small room where the dialogues were taking place.<\/p>\n That was the Zapatista answer to the government\u2019s questioning. Off to the side, several people bore witness as members of the National Intermediation Commission, among them Don Pablo Gonz\u00e1lez Casanova, and an artist of the word: the poet Juan Ba\u00f1uelos, who passed away a few days ago. The latter, on one of the trips he made accompanying the delegation on the lengthy journey into Zapatista Reality [the village of La Realidad<\/em>], together with the also now deceased SupMarcos, defended The Captain\u2019s Verses<\/em> by Pablo Neruda, which someone had attacked for being \u201cpoetry that\u2019s too political.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s not poetry,\u201d the critic argued in his diatribe, \u201cit\u2019s a political pamphlet.\u201d<\/p>\n Silence followed on the journey. Juan Ba\u00f1uelos looked out at the mountains, perhaps stringing together in his mind the poem \u201cEl Correo de la Selva\u201d [\u201cJungle Mail\u201d] in which, contrary to what has been said, he is not talking about himself but rather about those who acted as couriers between the CONAI (National Intermediation Commission) and the EZLN, risking their lives, their freedom, and their possessions in that ill-fated time of the zedillista<\/em> betrayal of 1995 (one of the betrayal\u2019s operatives, Esteban Moctezuma Barrag\u00e1n, is today among those who have been absolved and elevated to strategic director of \u201creal change\u201d[ii]<\/a>).<\/p>\n For his part, I imagine that the deceased SupMarcos breathed a sigh of relief upon catching sight of Zapatista territory and perhaps, in a prescient murmur, recited to himself the last lines of \u201cLa Carta en el Camino<\/em>\u201d [\u201cThe Letter on the Road\u201d] by Pablo Neruda, the poem which concludes the book The Captain\u2019s Verses<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd so this letter ends -*-<\/strong><\/p>\n With regard to the topic of time (or \u201ctiming\u201d<\/em> [English in original] as the obese and lazy think tanks of above would say), they\u2019ve wanted to criticize and categorize us. For example, they\u2019ve told us that in the digital age, we Zapatistas are like those clocks that tell time with gears and clocksprings and which you have to wind by hand.<\/p>\n \u201cAnachronistic,\u201d they said. \u201cThe past that\u2019s come to collect its dues,\u201d they declared. \u201cHistorical backwardness,\u201d they murmured. \u201cAn unfinished task of modernity,\u201d they threatened.<\/p>\n Well, with our usual sense of good timing, we say to them that we\u2019re not like a manually-wound watch in the era of the smartwatch<\/em><\/strong>, which measures calories consumed and consummated, your heart rate, as well as telling you whether you\u2019re moving well or badly in that encounter of naked bodies repeating that, now yes, anachronistic ceremony of the meeting of skins and humidities. Those watches are so modern and advanced that sometimes you can even use them to see what time it is.<\/p>\n It\u2019s true, this is an age where virtual reality far outstrips real reality and any imbecile can act like he knows something thanks to social networks which allow him to find equally stubborn and cynical echos; an age where the attempted originality of antipathy is made null and void when it becomes clear that impertinence, ignorance, and smugness are an \u201cindividuality\u201d shared by millions of screennames<\/em>, as if stupidity were none other than a single being with multiple accounts, and the misogyny of Calder\u00f3n and la Calderona<\/em>[iii]<\/a> is paralleled in the whole universe of social networks, including by those who, with Master\u2019s degrees and doctorates on the well-behaved and institutional Left, refer to the possible spokeswoman of the Indigenous Governing Council with the sarcastic nickname of \u201cthe Tonantzin.\u201d[iv]<\/a><\/p>\n But what on the Right is a legally punishable crime, on the institutional Left is a funny comment that doesn\u2019t deserve to be punished but rather celebrated. Although it might dress itself up as unique and unrepeatable, and may be the director of a newspaper pullout section, imbecility is the most run-of-the-mill of human characteristics on the political spectrum above where differences are diluted even in polls.<\/p>\n But in this technological era that looks upon us with mocking reproach, we Zapatistas are more like an hourglass. An hourglass that, although it doesn\u2019t request an update every 15 minutes and doesn\u2019t require you to have credit on your phone to work, does have to renew its limited countdown over and over again.<\/p>\n Although not very practical and somewhat uncomfortable, just like us Zapatistas, the hourglass has its advantages. For example, in it we can see the time that has gone by, the past, and try to understand it. And we can see, too, the time that is coming.<\/p>\n Zapatista time cannot be understood without understanding the gaze that keeps track of time with an hourglass. That\u2019s why, on this one and only occasion, we\u2019ve brought here for you, madam, sir, other<\/em><\/strong> [otroa]<\/em><\/strong>, little girl, little boy, this hourglass which we\u2019ve baptized the \u201cYou know nothing, Jon Snow\u201d<\/em><\/strong>[v]<\/a> model.<\/p>\n Look at it, appreciate the perfection in its curved lines that remind one that the world isn\u2019t round and that despite that it moves, it turns, and, as Mercedes Sosa said in her time, \u201cthings change, everything changes.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Look at it and understand that you do not understand us, but that it doesn\u2019t matter: and, as they say, it\u2019s no big deal, because it\u2019s not toward our archaic customs (which, more than premodern, are prehistoric) that we ask you to look, no. It\u2019s farther beyond where we need your vigilance.<\/p>\n Because we understand that they ask you to pay attention to that brief instant in which a tiny grain of sand arrives to the narrow passage in order to then fall and join the other moments that accumulate in what we call the \u201cpast.\u201d<\/p>\n That\u2019s what they insinuate, they advise, they ask, they order, they command you to do: live in the\u00a0 moment, live in the present which can now be even further reduced with the highest and most sophisticated technology. Don\u2019t think about the time that already lies in yesterday, because in the vertigo of modernity, \u201ca second ago\u201d is the same as \u201ca century ago.\u201d And above all, don\u2019t look at what\u2019s coming.<\/p>\n Of course, we Zapatistas, stubbornly, against the grain, just to be contrary (without insulting anybody in particular, to each his own), are analyzing and questioning the tiny grain of sand that exists anonymously in the middle of all the others, waiting its turn to get in line in the narrow tunnel, and at the same time looking at the grains that lie below and to the left in what we call the \u201cpast,\u201d asking each other what the heck they have to do with this presentation about the walls of Capital and the cracks below.<\/p>\n And we have one eye on the cat and the other on the meat hook,[vi]<\/a> or rather the dog, with which the \u201ccat-dog\u201d becomes a tool of analysis in critical thought and ceases to be the constant company of a little girl who imagines herself without fear, free, a compa\u00f1era<\/em>.<\/p>\n But it\u2019s not Zapatismo that we\u2019re inviting you to try to understand or explain. Although, of course, if you want to reiterate your laziness, limitations, and dogmatism anti- or pro-, well who are we to stop you.<\/p>\n So we say to you that no, we\u2019re not worth the trouble, that Zapatismo is just one struggle among many. Perhaps the smallest in terms of its number, its impact, its transcendence. Although it\u2019s true, it is perhaps the most irreverent of them all if we\u2019re talking in terms of the enemy it has chosen, in terms of its aspiration, its objective, its horizon, and its stubborn insistence on building a world where many worlds fit, all of them, those that exist and those yet to be born.<\/p>\n And all the while, with absurd obstinacy, we turn the hourglass over and over again as if we wanted to tell you, tell ourselves, that this is the struggle: something where there is no rest, where one has to resist and not open the doors of prudent cowardice which mark the entirety of the path with signs reading \u201cEXIT.\u201d<\/p>\n The struggle is something that requires you to pay attention to the whole and to the parts, and to be ready because that last grain of sand isn\u2019t the last, but rather the first, and that the hourglass must be turned over because it contains not today, but yesterday, and yes, you\u2019re right, tomorrow too.<\/p>\n So there you have the secret to the Zapatista method of analysis and reflection: we don\u2019t even use a wind-up clock, but rather an hourglass.<\/p>\n Of course, it\u2019s understandable, what can you expect from those who insist that in this day and age, not just the logic of money but also Donald Trump\u2019s dear mother has been globalized because the whole world over is thinking of her and mentioning her, that is to say, insulting her.<\/p>\n Or maybe we use the hourglass because our passion for understanding is not an academic, scientific or descriptive interest, nor a feigned and sluggish tribunal that thinks it knows everything and can opine about everything because, as is well-known and as the social networks confirm, any foolishness finds followers and flocks are formed for the pastor who, in turn, is part of the flock of another pastor and so on.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n No, our interest is subversive. We combat the enemy. We want to know what the enemy is like, its genealogy, its modus operandi<\/em> we could say following El\u00edas Contreras, a deceased EZLN investigator who insisted that capitalism was a criminal and that all of reality and the world were the scene of the crime and should be studied and analyzed as such.<\/p>\n It occurs to me now that the clues left by El\u00edas Contreras and the now defunct SupMarcos, those that we Zapatistas now leave for you madam, gentlemen, otroa<\/em><\/strong>, little girl, little boy, young people not with regards to the calendar but rather with regards to the the gaze, are signs, all of them, to indicate a path.<\/p>\n The trick, the hustle as SubMoy says, the \u201cmagic\u201d as SupMarcos used to say, is in the fact that those clues are not for you to find us, discover us, trap us. According to this note I\u2019ve found in a trunk of SupMarcos\u2019 memorabilia that I\u2019ll reread disconcertedly now, they are not only so that you find a mirror, but rather for you to go about building an answer, your answer, to the apocalyptic question that will slap you across the face, irrespective of your color, gender or transgender<\/em>, your belief or disbelief, your political and ideological philias and phobias, your customs, your time, your geography.<\/p>\n The question that announces the most terrible and marvelous apocalypse: And what about you?<\/em><\/p>\n It\u2019s an apocalypse of gender, according to the little girl who calls herself Defensa Zapatista<\/em>. \u201cThis is the fault of fucking men,\u201d <\/em>she declares at every opportunity, whether or not it has anything to do with the subject at hand, this little girl who dreams of completing her football team.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s all going great, even though the ball is a little deflated, like it got hit a lot and it has a bunch of bumps on its head,\u201d <\/em>responds the girl to a question I hadn\u2019t even thought of.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd, of course, the team isn\u2019t complete yet but don\u2019t you worry Sup, soon there\u2019ll be more of us, sometimes it takes a while but soon there\u2019ll be more of us,\u201d <\/em>she says trying to calm me while we wait anxiously in the caracol<\/em> for them to find the support team that got lost.<\/p>\n Subcomandante Insurgente Mois\u00e9s murmurs, \u201cSon of a\u2026I think we need to form a support team for the support team, because something always happens to them,\u201d<\/em> while Defensa Zapatista<\/em> tries to convince me to look for, among you all, prospects for someone to run around behind a deformed ball in a pasture that today is full of ticks and a nauyaca<\/em> snake here and there, and that just a few days ago was bright with water puddled after a rain whose watch is surely broken because April is not its time to fall.<\/p>\n The directions that I receive from the girl are far from simple. The team doesn\u2019t need a goalie, a position which is occupied, I know, by an old one-eyed horse who is differentiated from the rest in that he has neither rope, nor brand, nor owner and who chews unconcerned on an empty plastic bottle on which you can no longer read the brand of a well-known soda-pop.<\/p>\n The defender position, obviously, is also already covered. And the team has a far left that actually looks like a cat\u2026 or a dog, that, well, there goes SubMoy\u2019s computer mouse, and there goes el Monarca<\/em> yelling \u201cfucking dog!\u201d and insurgenta Erika clarifies that it\u2019s not a dog, and el Monarca<\/em> says \u201cCat, then!\u201d \u201cNot that, either,\u201d says Erika, who just wants to make sure that the cat-dog escapes unscathed, which it manages to do.<\/p>\n Also part of the always incomplete formation is Pedrito, who, as I understand from the diagram that Defensa Zapatista<\/em> unfolds in front of me, is a sort of multi-position sweeper. \u201cThe thing is that Pedro hardly ever listens,\u201d <\/em>she clarifies for me, \u201cone day he wants to be a goalie, the next day a forward, and he better not even dream of being defender\u201d <\/em>warns the girl. Then she adds: \u201cbut that\u2019s just how men are, one minute they say one thing and the next minute they tell you to scram,\u201d <\/em>while she looks at me with narrowed eyes and puts on her best \u201cFuck Trump and get out of the way before you get pulled in and just wait and see what happens to you too\u201d face.<\/p>\n Before leaving, Defensa Zapatista <\/em>summarizes for me: \u201cHey Sup, not just anyone, huh? They have to be disciplined and committed to the struggle because otherwise they\u2019ll go weak real fast and on the team it\u2019s pure resistance and rebellion.\u201d <\/em>I didn\u2019t want to disappoint her, but just the requirement of discipline eliminates all the support teams and all those present here [todoas<\/strong>],<\/em> starting, obviously, with Pablo Contrarian here.<\/p>\n For the deceased SupMarcos, according to what I discovered after his death and by rescuing his papers, the apocalypse is neither the mirror nor the question, but rather the answer. \u201cThat,\u201d <\/em>he wrote with the awkward handwriting of an undisciplined schoolboy who always flunked penmanship, \u201cThat is where the world ends\u2026 or begins.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n I will return on another occasion to these papers stained with moisture and tobacco that, together with many others in a trunk of corroded and torn fabric, SupMarcos gave to me moments before his death, with a laconic: \u201cSee what you can do with that.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n He repeated the same phrase to me when he came down off the stage in La Realidad, <\/em>the blood of my dead brother, the teacher Galeano, still warm on the earth, when, like a premonition of what was to come, the only light was that of the rain that broke the logic of that May some calendars ago.<\/p>\n No, I won\u2019t talk about that writing. Or not yet. Nor will I talk about the one I just found and which, defiant, has this brief title: \u201cOn how Durito decided to embrace the noble profession of Knight Errant and took to traveling the world righting wrongs, rescuing the vulnerable, aiding the oppressed, supporting the weak and conjuring libidinous sighs from rescued damsels as well as snorts of envy from macho guys. Information and no-obligation estimates at #69 Hojita de Huapac.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Yes, I agree with you all, it\u2019s a title as modest as its protagonist.<\/p>\n But I won\u2019t read it to you now, and not because I don\u2019t want to see the smiles that that story would bring you\u2014written as it was by the deceased in his own hand and with only the place and the date as clarifications: you can just make out \u201cWatapil encampment, Almond Mountain, April, 1986,\u201d <\/em>that is to say, about 30 years ago\u2014but because it\u2019s not related to the present topic.<\/p>\n Of course, now you\u2019re getting mad because you\u2019re thinking, why am I getting your hopes up if no-way-jos\u00e9-nada-zip-zilch-zero<\/em>, if right now I\u2019m not going to read you the story with the title as brief as it is clear, but let me tell you that those papers found in SupMarcos\u2019 trunk reminded me of something that happened when, on the clocks of La Realidad<\/em>, the hour of his death had not yet struck:<\/p>\n SupMoy and the now deceased SupMarcos returned from a meeting with the Indigenous Revolutionary Clandestine Committee-General Command of the EZLN, held in one of the warehouses of the caracol<\/em> La Realidad<\/em>, and they sent for me.<\/p>\n I understood that the hour had arrived on the two watches that the now deceased had carried since the first of January, 1994. Because I knew that his death had been decided, but not when. The fact that they sent for me only meant one thing: his passing was imminent and he would give me the final instructions before my birth.<\/p>\n SupMoy took his leave and I was left alone with SupMarcos. He gave me a small suitcase made of fabric, old and badly patched, without saying anything to me.<\/p>\n I asked what I was supposed to do with it and he only responded that I would know what to do when the time came. I nodded in silence.<\/p>\n Afterwards he gave me instructions for the location of a hidden mountain \u201cmailbox\u201d where, he said, he had stored several books.<\/p>\n They\u2019re coming back to me now: the poetic anthologies by Le\u00f3n Felipe and Miguel Hern\u00e1ndez, the Romancero Gitano<\/em> by Garc\u00eda Lorca, the two volumes of Quijote, The Captain\u2019s Verses<\/em> by Pablo Neruda, a bilingual edition of Shakespeare\u2019s sonnets, Cronopios and Famas<\/em> by Julio Cort\u00e1zar, and others that I don\u2019t remember now.<\/p>\n It seemed strange to me that in his last wish he had room in his thoughts to recommend the rescue of some books that had probably already been destroyed by the humidity and the leaf-cutter ants.<\/p>\n I must have made a face because he felt obliged to explain: \u201cThere is no more desperate loneliness than that of a book with no one to read it.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n I didn\u2019t say anything, I just wrote down, in code, the location of the \u201cmailbox.\u201d<\/p>\n Then, as was his was way after giving final directions, he asked me: \u201cDoubts, questions, anxieties, disagreements, insults, or other?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n I thought for a moment. \u201cI have a question,\u201d <\/em>I told him, not because I had one but rather to give me time to be able to think of something.<\/p>\n He waited in silence. And I don\u2019t know why I asked him about Durito. Yes, I know, I should have asked him other things, for example, the reasons for his death, or the always urgent question, \u201cWhat\u2019s next?\u201d But no, I asked him about Durito.<\/p>\n Why did you choose an insect as a character? The thing about <\/em>el Viejo Antonio I get, the same with the boys and girls, but an insect? Worse, a beetle! The beetles around here make their nest in dung and that\u2019s where they raise their babies.<\/em><\/p>\n He lit his pipe and responded between mouthfuls of smoke: \u201cIn the first place, as you will find out in a few minutes, it\u2019s not they who are the characters, but I. And as far as Mr. Durito is concerned, he\u2019s the little, weak and insignificant one who rises up, rebels and challenges everything, including the destiny that has been imposed on him.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cIn reference to the dung, beetles are not the only ones who in these parts work with dung and even use it for their houses. The indigenous, too. Well, that was before our uprising.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Yes, we talked about other things, not because it was an interrogation but rather because the beginning of the funeral was delayed and SupMarcos was just like that, while he thought about something he would talk about anything or about what he was asked about, as if he needed to occupy his thoughts with several things at once to be able to resolve the most important thing.<\/p>\n Of those other things, I don\u2019t know, perhaps, it\u2019s a guess, maybe I\u2019ll tell you on another occasion. Or not, who knows. But the part about the link between the beetle and the Zapatista indigenous, maybe you\u2019ll understand it better in the stories that follow in the voice of SupMoy.<\/p>\n I cede the floor to our leader and spokesperson, Subcomandante Insurgente Mois\u00e9s, who has just come from the deepest depths of the Lacandona Jungle, where he went in order to be able to explain to us why the capitalist world is like a walled plantation.<\/p>\n Thank you very much.<\/p>\n SupGaleano.<\/p>\n Mexico, April 2017.<\/p>\n <\/a><\/p>\n [i]<\/a>\u201cThe mafia of power\u201d is a phrase used by the Mexican politician and now three-time presidential candidate Andr\u00e9s Manuel L\u00f3pez Obrador (AMLO) and his political party, Morena, to refer to a group Mexican politicians and businessmen who he claims have undue influence over the course of Mexican politics and the economy. http:\/\/expansion.mx\/economia\/2011\/11\/04\/la-mafia-del-poder-segun-amlo<\/a><\/p>\n [ii]<\/a>\u201cReal change\u201d is another of AMLO\u2019s catchphrases; as of January 2017, Est\u00e9ban Moctezuma Barrag\u00e1n had joined AMLO\u2019s team: http:\/\/www.reforma.com\/aplicacioneslibre\/articulo\/default.aspx?id=1031184&md5=425255fe226a900e78e74ef27c689968&ta=0dfdbac11765226904c16cb9ad1b2efe<\/a><\/p>\n [iii]<\/a>\u201cLa Calderona<\/em>\u201d is a nickname given by the EZLN to the wife of ex-president Felipe Calder\u00f3n (2006-2012), Margarita Zavala, a member of the National Action Party (PAN) who announced in June 2015 that she will run for president of Mexico in 2018.<\/p>\n [iv]<\/a>Used here mockingly by critics of the CNI proposal, \u201cTonantzin\u201d is the Aztec (Mexica) goddess worshipped at Tepeyac and which provided the syncretic basis for the Virgin of Guadalupe.<\/p>\n [v]<\/a>A reference to the Game of Thrones<\/em> TV series.<\/p>\n
\nMar\u00eda de Jes\u00fas Patricio Mart\u00ednez.
\nPaulina Fern\u00e1ndez C.
\nAlicia Castellanos.
\nMagdalena G\u00f3mez.
\nGilberto L\u00f3pez y Rivas.
\nLuis Hern\u00e1ndez Navarro.
\nCarlos Aguirre Rojas.
\nArturo Anguiano.
\nChristian Ch\u00e1vez.
\nCarlos Gonz\u00e1lez.
\nSergio Rodr\u00edguez Lascano.
\nTom Hansen.<\/p>\n
\nsin ninguna tristeza:<\/em>
\nest\u00e1n firmes mis pies sobre la tierra,<\/em>
\nmi mano escribe esta carta en el camino, <\/em>
\ny en medio de la vida estar\u00e9<\/em>
\nsiempre<\/em>
\njunto al amigo, frente al enemigo, <\/em>
\ncon tu nombre en la boca<\/em>
\ny un beso que jam\u00e1s <\/em>
\nse apart\u00f3 de la tuya.\u201d<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<\/a><\/p>\nPrelude: Timepieces, The Apocalypse, and the Hour of the Small
\nSubcomandante Insurgente Galeano<\/h4>\nSeminar “The Walls of Capital, the Cracks of the Left”
\nCideci \/ Universidad de la Tierra Chiapas
\nApril 12, 2017<\/h4>\n
\nwith no sadness:
\nmy feet are firm upon the earth,
\nmy hand writes this letter on the road,
\nand in the midst of life I shall be
\nalways
\nbeside the friend, facing the enemy,
\nwith your name in my mouth
\nand a kiss that never
\nbroke away from yours.\u201d<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\n