Hoplessness, helplessness and a sliver of light

My heart has been heavy this week. Even though I´ve been in Mexico for over two months, I feel like I´m just beginning to come to terms with the incredible violence, poverty and corruption present in this country. Since 2007, the Mexican government´s war on narcotrafficking and organized crime has left over 40,000 dead and 10,000 disappeared. Before coming to Mexico, I had a general sense of the situation here: U.S. news coverage of Mexican affairs often details the extreme violence, but watching Diane Sawyer on World News Tonight is not the same as listening to a woman recount the night when eight men in her family disappeared. It´s not the same as watching a woman who appeared to be about my age sob through the story of her horrific rape. 

Rick, a fellow MCCer and co-worker at INESIN, told me that Mexico´s government is the second most corrupt in the world. Presumed guilty is the norm and news sources are censored incredibly heavily by the government. Journalists who don´t present a government-approved version of life are persecuted. So is anyone else perceived as a “threat to the state.” And I don´t have to travel far to see this reality. Currently there are eleven indigenous men and women held in San Cristóbal´s prison whose right to due process has been denied since their time of incarceration (some over 10 years ago). Some have been tortured and denied access to qualified translators. All witnesses to their “crimes” deny that these prisoners are culpable. On September 29, these prisoners began a hunger strike and have stated that they will continue to refuse food indefinitely. The families of these prisoners are stationed outside of San Cristóbal´s main cathedral for the duration of the strike and I pass by their tent every time I walk downtown, a reminder of intense suffering and injustice in this nation.

The poor economic situation of this country contributes to the violence and human rights abuses. Finding work is next-to-impossible for many Mexicans. My host mom, Liliana, would love to start working, but she says that after age 35 there isn´t much hope. There are over 8,000 young people in Mexico who are ninis (ni trabajan, ni estudian).  These young Mexicans, who neither work nor study, are left with very few ways out. In this situation, entering the narcotrafficking trade, unfortunately, becomes increasingly appealing. Yesterday, I heard a story of a teacher who asked each of his elementary school students what they wanted to be when they grew up. Following a few students who said they wanted to be teachers or doctors, one boy piped up that he wanted to be a narcotrafficker. Though entering this world involves incredibly high risk, it also pays well and for many Mexicans, the risk is worth it. Others attempt to migrate. Some arrive in the U.S. and subsequently face a whole host of new challenges. Others don´t. Criminal networks take advantage of the vulnerable situation of immigrants through extortion and violence. Some die en route. Others run out of money on the way.       

This week, I´ve felt helpless and hopeless. Government structures are strong and controlling. The U.S. continues to fuel conflict here by providing weapons through the Mérida Initiative. The gap between the rich and poor in this nation is incredible. According to Forbes magazine the richest man in the world is a Mexican: Carlos Slim. At the same time, 60% of Mexicans live in poverty. How can one not feel helpless and hopeless when confronted with this information?

But I´m trying to believe that there is always a ray of light somewhere because without this belief it´s impossible to motivate yourself to do anything but wallow in misery. I´ve found hope in my coworkers who visit and pray with the incarcerated prisoners in San Cristóbal. I´ve found hope in the national Movimiento por la Paz con Justicia y Dignidad (Moviment for Peace with Justice and Dignity) which has organized two national caravans calling for an end to Mexico´s militarization, one of which I had the honor of participating in soon after my arrival in San Cristóbal. I´ve found hope in the life and poetry of El Salvadorian Archbishop Oscar Romero, a radical priest and human rights defender who was murdered in 1980. You can read his beautiful poem “Profetas de un futuro que no es nuestro” (A Future Not Our Own) in Spanish or in English. It´s message continues to inspire me when I feel helpless or hopeless in the face of great injustice.

Tortillas and tamales

Mexican food is world-renowned, and for the past two months I have had the great fortune of eating it every single day. I´ve complied the subsequent superlative list to give you a taste (get it?!) of my diet. And yes, you might be jealous and/or hungry after reading it.

Most-eaten: tortillas.A staple of every meal, I eat corn tortillas every day in a variety of ways: as a utensil to scoop up my frijoles at breakfast, rolled up as a compliment to lunch (and tortilla-rolling is certainly an art) or as the outer layer of my doblado de queso for dinner.My family buys a kilo or two of tortillas every few days at the local tortilleria for around 13 pesos.

Most unusual: grasshoppers. 

Favorite: Chalupas.A tostada (fried or baked tortilla) covered with refried beans, shredded carrots, beets, cheese and salsa. 

Spiciest: Chile.A term for the pepper itself or a sauce of varying-levels of spiciness, Mexicans love their chile and I´m finding an appreciation for this spicy condiment.Though, as my family loves to say “el chile pica y repica.”Any guesses as to what that means? ;) If anyone is curious, I´d be glad to share, but to protect those readers with sensitive stomachs, I´ll refrain from spelling it out here.

Sunday morning staple: tamales. Every Saturday evening after 6 pm, you can find red light bulbs shining outside of houses all over the city. These lights signify that you can purchase homemade tamales. Without fail my family travels to their favorite tamale house to pick up Sunday´s breakfast. After sampling all the varieties, I have settled on mole with pork as my favorite. Mole is a fabulous Mexican sauce comprised of an average of 20 ingredients ranging from ground nuts to chile to dried fruit.

The one food I couldn´t stand: hígado (liver). I am quite proud of the fact that I´ve tried every food that has been offered to me during my time here. However, I had a hard time stomaching the liver. Luckily, I only asked for a very small piece and didn´t gag, though it was a struggle.

Unexpected favorite: nopales (cactus paddles). These can be liquefied in a juice, steamed or fried and I´m readily becoming a fan.

My weakness: sweet bread. My house always has a ready supply of sweet bread from a local panadería. This is usually what Gabriel eats for dinner--usually dipped in the instant decaf coffee they buy. I have no trouble passing up this coffee for lemon or camomile tea, but I struggle to resist the bread…which really is more cookie-like than bread-like.

Favorite street food: elote. This corn on the cob comes slathered in mayo and then drenched in cheese and chile. So unhealthy. So delicious. 

Cutest: guineos (bananas). I especially like the purple ones grown here in Chiapas and the teeny-tiny ones that are about the length of my thumb and can be eaten in two bites.

Most dangerous: spiny chayote. This fruit (technically, but considered a vegetable by most Mexicans) comes in two varieties…smooth and spiny (my names, not technical). It is eaten in chunks (kind of like squash) or in cream soups. The spiny variety is considered a dessert and before it´s steamed it is reminiscent of a cactus. I almost drew blood when I inadvertently grabbed one out of the refrigerator.

Yes. I am quite happy with the food here. though I wouldn´t mind eating less meat. Gone are the days of my vegetarian diet, but I had been a vegetarian so long that I feel like this change is a good chance to push myself out of my comfort zone and contemplate the dietary choices I have made in the past and will make in the future. I don´t miss one specific food from the U.S., but occasionally I long for my Dad´s cheese soufflé and stir-fried broccoli or dahl from More with Less, but I know when I return home I´ll be pining for a good tamal de mole come most Sunday mornings.

San Cristóbal de las Casas: a city. or three?

My new home, San Cristóbal de las Casas (SCLC), is well known for several things:

• Natural beauty. Nestled at over 2,000 meters in the highland plains of southern Mexico, nearby outdoorsy attractions such as hiking, waterfalls, lakes, caves and a canyon with crocodiles abound. 

• Colonial charm. The city, founded in 1528, was one of the first locations in continental America to be inhabited by Spaniards. Many of the streets are still paved with cobblestones and grand colonial cathedrals are scattered throughout the city.

• Ethnic diversity. Though not the political capital of Chiapas, SCLC is the cultural capital thanks in part to indigenous populations which comprise an important part of the social fabric of this city.

According to the 2010 census, SCLC is home to 185,917, but the population is in no way homogenous. In fact, in a late-night chat with long-term MCC volunteers Rick and Jacquie, we analyzed SCLC´s three broad, and often quite segregated, subpopulations: colet@s, indigenous persons and foreigners. I have the great fortune of interacting with all three groups.

• Colet@s (mestiz@s originating from SCLC): My host family falls into this category, as do the majority of their friends. Often lighter-skinned, this population covers the entire socioeconomic spectrum, adheres to a range of religions and holds a variety of political views. Mothers often stay at home, as is the case in my house. Some hold strong prejudices against the indigenous population. This includes my host grandmother who just today told me (much to my horror) that I either picked up the flea that was my bedmate last night from a street dog or from an indigenous person. In a discussion about a week ago, my host dad told me that though intermarriage between mestiz@s and indigenous people is beginning to happen more, among upper class colets@s, it is still unacceptable. Many colet@s have a strong sense of tradition and culture and I am appreciating learning about both the beauty and ugliness of life in Mexico through our interactions.

• The indigenous population: As with the colet@s, I can only paint the indigenous population with large strokes, doing no real justice to the diversity of lived experience present in this group. Many of the indigenous people I see every day in SCLC live in nearby (or not so nearby) communities. Many retain traditional dress, their native languages (primarily Tzotzil and Tzeltal) and practice Indigenous Mayan spirituality. Some are street vendors and sell beautiful artesian work or maintain fruit and vegetable stands in the market located just a few blocks from my home. Some have integrated completely into what you could stereotype as “mainstream Mexican culture.” And of course, there are those somewhere in the middle, such as a number of my coworkers who have indigenous roots. I love hearing their stories of growing-up as well as the pride in their voices when they talk about their home communities.

• Upon my arrival in SCLC, I was expecting to encounter the former two groups, but the number of tourists and expats here suprised me. For the reasons I discussed at the beginning of this post, SCLC is a HUGE tourist destination. Additionally, if you walk down one of the two beautiful downtown andadores (pedestrian streets), you can imagine you are in any city of your choosing. There are restaurants from all around the world, a thriving nightlife, yoga classes, a plethora of hippies, alternative movie theaters and shops galore. Though I´m slowly making Mexican friends, I´ve found it easier to get to know other foreigners like me (mostly from Europe) because we´re newer and looking to build a community from square one, where as many people who have lived here their whole lives have their family, work and social circles nearby and well-developed. Relating to Europeans (in Spanish) has been a culture-shock that I certainly wasn´t expecting, but these friends are teaching me a lot about the world and are pushing me to think in new ways. Many foreigners here are quite politically and socially progressive, attracted by the Zapatista uprising in the mid-1990s. It´s not always easy running in these circles and being from the U.S. Almost everyone here (whether Mexican or not) is quite critical of the U.S. (and this coming from someone who does not shy away from critizing our government or capitalist economic system) and this perhaps helps me understand why I have only met three fellow estadounidenses during my time here. Mostly, though, I understand where these people are coming from. One thing that does annoy me, though, is a phrase I hear far too often from my foreign counterparts when we run into each other downtown: “this is such a small place.” To me, SCLC is not small.  However, the tourist population is fairly self-contained in historic downtown and can be somewhat disconnected from the rest of city life.

These three populations (which I have grossly overgeneralized) are all an integral part of SCLC and without any one (or any other part of the population I have failed to describe), SCLC would not be the city I´m beginning to love in all its beauty, with all its challenges and with its multitude of varied life-realities and experiences.