bare minimum

We set off yesterday (finally!) for a field trip out to a community which is literally at the end of the road. When we got there, the road ended. From what I have been reading in my book on Zapatistas, almost 100,000 indigenous people were moved off their land in the mid 1970’s by the government and the big cattle ranchers. Essentially, a law that had protected them by stating that they owned the land they farmed and lived on was just revoked and they were forced to leave their nice luscious farms. The roots of the peasant revolt were thus laid. Most of them moved deep into the Lacondon jungle (on the border with Guatemala) and over the next 30 years, cleared the jungle with machetes and sheer human force to create new farms and communities.

Every community we go to and ask when it was settled, they say, 30 years ago. Its amazing to be meeting people that I am reading about and to talk to them about how the last 30 years have been for them. To say that they are organized would be an understatement. Over the last 30 years, with no electricity, running water, money and absolutely no representation in the government of a country where they are born and bred, they have created structures that support their physical, mental, social, political and economic lives. The community we went to yesterday only got electricity last year (that is in 2007).

I went with 4 colleagues. We drove for 7 hours through some of the most fertile and gorgeous landscape I have ever seen. All cloud forests and jungle. Lots of communities passed along the way, some Zapatista (and therefore autonomous) and some not. We don’t work with the autonomous communities since we are funded by government money, but they are ok with having us work in their areas as it helps people. The Zapatista communities can be identified by the fantastic paintings on the cooperative tienda (shop) that is usually at the entrance to the community and boasts phrases like – “we are united” and has pictorials of peasants in black ski masks. Also the red star (the logo of the Zapatista movement).

We got there yesterday evening – and laid out our supplies. We have to carry all our own supplies (food, water, flashlights, sleeping gear etc. etc.). We were there to train their health promotores (promotores de salud) about TB – how to recognize the symptoms, collect sputum samples, get them to a health facility, communicate results back to the patient and begin/complete treatment if necessary. It sounds simple but a mammoth task when you consider the fact that the road ends in one community and one can still walk for days into the jungle to reach many more. These promotores (all of whom are volunteers) don’t have it easy at all!

We laid out the rations – rice, beans, oil, onions, tomatoes, salt and sugar to be cooked in the next 3 days. We supply, the women from the community cook. We bring enough for us and the promotores. Handed that off, and made our beds (sleeping bags laid out on hard wood floor). Then we ate some bread and jam between ourselves and were off to sleep by 8p. Someone in the next room decided to play guitar for a while and sing. Nice. Woke up several times to dogs and roosters. Felt pretty happy and well rested in the morning.

7a – ready to go after brushing teeth and changing clothes.

7:30a – no hot water to make coffee or tea

8a – some signs of a fire in the kitchen. No one turning up for the training. O no wait, one guy shows up.

8:30a – finally breakfast is ready. Rice, beans, coffee.

9a – No one has showed up for the training. The health committee coordinator is very upset.

9:30a – A heated discussion about what went wrong, why no one showed up when we planned these dates at the beginning of January.

10a – We leave.

Another 5 hour drive back to the next town. Met with the president of the promotores’ association who had personally issued a notice for the training and gotten agreement from all. He is embarassed and we reschedule for a month from now. Have his personal assurance that everyone will show.

On the way back, we gave a ride to one of the campesinos (farmer) who had managed to show. In the car, I was trying to practice my Spanish with him and this is our little conversation (all in Spanish, yippee):

Me: Where do you live?

Campesino: In San Francisco.

Me: Is it far?

Campesino: A bit further ahead.

Me: Did you walk here last night?

Campesino: Yes, but it only takes 30 minutes if you walk along the river. Where do you live?

Me: I live in New York but I am here to learn Spanish and work for a few months.

Campesino: And will you learn Tzeltal too?

Me: Yes, maybe Tzeltal but not Spanish! (everyone laughs)

We pass some cowboys (the real ones!) on the street. The horses and cows are afraid of the car so we have to stop and wait until they pass.

Me: In Sri Lanka, if you drive through the jungle, you see elephants on the side of the road.

Campesino: (looking a little worried)

Me: They have wild elephants that are afraid of the car so you have to wait until they go back into the jungle before you pass. It can take 2-3 hours sometimes.

Campesino: Do they eat elephant meat there?

Me: No. They may use them for work.

Campesino: Oh, like a horse!

Me: Yes like a horse but now they mostly live on the reserves.

Silence for 20 minutes.

Campesino: Do you know giraffes? Well, do they use them for work?

Me: No, they are only for looking at.

Campesino: We don’t have any elephants or giraffes here. But I know that in some places people eat horse meat.