Inside a Snail called: resistance and rebellion for humanity

I have been putting off writing about my time with the Zapatistas, because there was a lot to think about. Two posts ago I mentioned a Caracol, which is Castellano (spanish) for snail. There are five Caracols in Chiapas and maybe in the world that are Zapatista, their invention afterall. I was at Caracol II Oventic, Chiapas. This is the only Caracol that has a Language Center where internationals can come and stay overnight and learn Castellano or Tzotzil, a local mayan language. I stayed there two weeks for Castellano.

Less than a week in Mexico and I found I was standing outside a gate high in the mountains of Chiapas. Behind the gate was a woman and two small children.. I could tell she was Zapatista right away because the lower part of her face was covered with a bandana that I had seen in the pictures on the website and on t-shirts and books. Her eyes smiled at me. I stepped closer and greeted her and her children in Spanish. I don't remember what she said but I ended up giving her my passport and a letter of accredidation I had received from the Mexican Solidarity Network. I was to wait while she walked quickly to a building I discovered much later (by reading the sign outside) was the Security building. She returned shortly and motioned that I could come in and should go to that building where my passport had remained.

Feeling a bit nervous I entered the building where three masked men stood and one sat behind a simple wooden table. On walls were taped up amaturish drawings and depictions of Che Guevara. I was asked very pointed questions about where I was from, my name, occupation, what organization I was with and how long I planned to stay. In my typical fashion I decided to be honest and say I was not sure how long if I was going to stay a week or two weeks, because I had just heard some bad stories about the place from an English guy I met for a brief moment in San Cristobal, that is was cold, and no books to read, no place to walk, not enough food. My indecision was not received with calm patience. "It is not that cold here now. One or two weeks?" The vigilante demanded. "I can't say." I remained wishy washy. "I will put one." he said with exasperation. I could hardly believe I had created such a rough start. I thought I was reasonable to try for a week. I was then to check in with the Good Government located at another building not far down the hill. I was led there by the security guy. They knocked and since they were busy with another group I sat outside on the bench to wait. At this point I thought that I was getting a special chance to interview them or hear about what they do and how they are formed, etc. I didn't realize that this was a normal part of the process.

As I sat outside the building I looked around. There were children playing on the steep concrete road that led straight down a hill. There were small wooden plank buildings on each side of the road. I noticed the security guys standing in the doorway of one, keeping an eye on me and on the gate where I had entered where the road exited to the main highway. All of the buildings were painted with murals and painted letters words in the local language and in Spanish indicated what their function was. There were women's cooperatives and I could glimpse in the doorways someone weaving. In general people seemed shy and reserved, students walked by, later I found out returning to school for the week.

I was encouraged though by one thing, the sound of laughter coming from inside the good government building. Lots of laughter. After about 30 minutes of waiting the group left and I was welcomed inside. I was asked to sit down. There were eight people there men women, some younger, some older, their eyes were smiling and their faces covered. I smiled back and took out my notebook and pen ready to write notes. They asked me to sign in my name, country, how long I was to stay and profession. I presented them the letter from the MSN group giving their approval that I could study there, that I was anti- capitalist enough and understood the Zapatista stance and outlook on the world. Within the letter I had not realized but there were the dates that I was to stay- two weeks, they noted that down. They looked everything over and filled out a half sheet of paper, with permission to stay two weeks stamped it with an ink stamp and handed it to me and said- you may go to the school it is down the hill. I quickly got my things together and thanked them and left.

I began my way down the hill it turned into a grassy path on a small ridge I saw a basketball court on one side and a group of students playing soccer on the other and in front of me a group of buildings painted with beautiful murals. There was an older man coming my way. He greeted me and asked me if I was looking for the teacher. I said well not really, just the school. He said he would walk with me. He said that they just send you down the hill with no further instructions.. very true I thought, how nice of him! He was staying for several weeks in Caracol II researching in the library. The day was sunny and not cold. I was introduced to someone who helped with the school for internationals. She showed me a bed, wooden planks, there were other beds that looked like they were in use and that had thick mats on them.. I found an unused centimeter thick mat folded it in half and threw my sleeping bag on top. I went back outside and found my new friend who was waiting for me, he asked if I wanted to get something to eat back at the top of the hill in the Che Guevara Cafe. So we went. He was able to tell me a little about the Caracol and I mostly talked about myself.

Several more students arrived after I ate. They were from the USA as well.

So what is a Caracol you may still be asking. I made the mistake of calling it a community, but a community is distinguished from a Caracol. A Caracol is a space where the projects of the Zapatista communities at large come together. Womens cooperatives have their offices here, the coffee cooperative has an office. There are large gathering places built for events or meetings, each Caracol has a school some just primary others secondary as well. There is a place for the Good Government to meet. There is security 24/7. There is a clinic as well, with two ambulances. Everyone working here, in the school, in the clinic, in the government, in the security, has a home somewhere else, has a community somewhere far or near and they have been elected to these positions by their communities. They are not paid for their work they are not called teachers, volunteers, or doctors, they are called "promotores" in english maybe called facilitators. This applies mostly in the schools where they don't want to give the impression of a typical authoritarian classroom where teachers dominate. They say they are all equal. That the promotores empower students to participate, question and learn. And they learn about Zapatista movement of course, they also all know how to play basketball really well. I haven't seen anyone play basketball with such focus and passion, not even professionals. But then again professionals don't exist in a Caracol

So that is inside the Snail..