leonel gomez´s son, named after mahatma gandhi, asked me about my plans for staying in san francisco del mar as i got off the back of a dirtbike i´d paid 10 pesos to ride after crossing the river at ixhuatan. then he showed me the alligator kept in the park. i didn´t know how to answer him, the sun and humidity made it hard for me to remember why i’d come. the alligator show, followed by a visit to a corner store to see the first half of a mexico vs. brazil friendly (mexico´s beautifully executed first goal wouldn´t survive), were early signs of the generosity i continually benefited from on the isthmus of tehuantepec – a stretch of land marking the shortest distance between the gulf and the pacific ocean in mexico, like a water molecule that bends but doesn’t break because of hydrogen-bonding, sometimes it’s the thinness of things that makes them resilient.
climbing the sierra my bus windows were repeatedly pricked by the dozens of maguey fields and distilleries built to offer a traveling tourist or mezcal connoisseur a fresh shot…so much land covered with spilt alcohol. i opted for a sweet mango nieve at one of our bathroom stops.
as we came down from the mountains, firmly on the isthmus, i saw flatland printed by the hooves of a thousand cows looking classically stupid; they had no clue of the history of ranches on the isthmus fencing away indigenous rights to land. but the newest ranches grow wind – dozens and dozens of giant wind turbines stand as sentinels protecting the future of a corridor destined for hotels, industry and ecotourism, which like Ansel Adams works to frame a picture of nature that doesn´t include humanity, under Plan Puebla Panama (i read the daily news record a few days ago and it seems that wind ranches have also been approved for highland county, va.) here in oaxaca there are a lot of questions being asked about this alternative energy supply´s all too traditional demands – electricity for rich mexicans and foreign coorporations feeding a capitalist economy that only knows the language of endless consumption, and replacement of community controlled development with increased militarization to protect the big blades – gears spinning and spinning to blow away indigenous ismeños holding on tight to land use that values local-sufficiency. there´s understandable doubt that any of the megawatts will help to broadcast community projects like radio huave, the community radio station alejandro coordinates, and ¨la voz del mar¨ giving voice to the humidity blowing in from the open water.
radio huave is in a small room with a transmitter that races down the dirt roads not only of san francisco del mar´s small fishing community but of the surrounding area as well. huave is the name of the indigenous language spoken here only by the oldest listeners, evidence of a people marginalized even within other indigenous communities on the isthmus. reclaiming the cultural heritage of a land of short, shocking earthquakes and nighttime distant lightening is a large part of radio huave’s mission. it started as an initiative of leonel, who, not finding much work in a shrimp industry dependent on international trends in diet and market-saturation, became a teacher, was sent to the sierra to work, met the director of UCIZONI who guided his political development, and came back to his hometown where he leads the local branch of section 22 of the teacher’s union, coordinates a network of 10 community radio stations, and participates in a number of indigenous organizing collectives as well. biking around town with him in the baking sun he often stopped to talk strategy about engaging with upcoming elections on oct. 7th that political parties have used to appropriate the more radical energy evident in the last years’ struggles, or to remind someone of a meeting. at the end of the day we’d eat fish and beans, like almost all of the meals over the course of 5 days, cooked by his mother.
radio huave competes well with the coastal mosquitoes in its buzz of activity. while hanging around the station the community’s popular assembly took place outside in the shade to make a decision about a proposed clinic, and dozens of community members, ranging from ages 8 to 80, stopped by to say hi, or to pay to have an announcement read on air – this is how the radio keeps the lights on, having made the decision not to support large scale commercial advertising. the short promos and radio spots accumulated on the station’s computer were testaments to leonel’s radio connections around the country, and they included – why columbus day is nothing to celebrate, how to use a condom, the negative effects of micromachismos (small things men do to control the women in their lives), gay rights, reasons not to migrate to the u.s., nafta and imperialism, announcements about upcoming forums or actions, and daily readings from eduardo galeano’s the open veins of latin america. compared to my experiences with alternative radio in the u.s., i was impressed not only by the organizing approach behind the radio, but by the honest community participation, not hindered by the life-sucking power of over-professionalization.
leonel and i led a workshop with the radio team on my last full day there. the participants were mostly young men, eager to hear their voices on the air, but beyond an understanding of the power of self-expression not as connected to the vision of radio huave as alejandro wants them to be. we looked at the influence of radio on our lives, from there came up with a group definition of community radio – which included opening doors for as many as possible to create their own media and to build mutual support from which other organizing efforts could grow – and ended by breaking up into groups to really look at what programs could be developed to reflect this definition. the programs included interviewing people that have left and come back from the u.s., and looking at the reasons others stayed behind, and a youth hour which would look at religion, the effects of migration north on adolescent aspiration, and sex, gender, and religion. jessica, the creative force behind the youth hour program and the only woman present, exemplified one of the various limits on a simple 4 hour workshop on programming – she is probably moving away soon to find a job.
on my way back to oaxaca city i stopped at jalapa de marques to check out one of the other stations in the community radio network on the isthmus – radio arcoiris (click and listen – under escuchanos on their site). the radio is a project of the organizing collective cortamortaje which puts out a great newspaper and is fed by the energy of cesar and alva (for an interesting report on cesar and the cortamortaje newspaper and sub. comandante marco’s visit to jalapa – featuring a little misunderstanding – check out this story on Narco News). cesar and alva were both enthusiastic hosts, answering many questions and excited to explain the significance of the radio in their efforts to organize with local fishermen to prevent the construction of a hydroelectric damn. i learned a lot from them both, but a conversation with alva while waiting for my bus on the dusty highway that cuts through jalapa on the way to oaxaca (blocked last year by folks from jalapa to prevent governor ulises ruiz supporters from making it to the city to terrorize the movement there) was particularly stimulating. she is the primary broadcaster of radio arcoiris, which itself is unique considering the community radio network is largely dominated by men at this point.
she told me about the mexican government’s strategy to put drug charges on movement leaders (once again a hidden line on the agenda of the “war on drugs” is revealed) in order to cast a light of delinquency on communities desperate for change. and we chatted about the u.s. government adopting the strategy of criminalizing and pathologizing socially harmful behavior (e.g. some drug use) in order to facilitate justification for police and prison expansion into communities either forming part of or identified as potentially sympathizing with social justice movements – it seems the oaxacan government has been taking advantage of “war on drugs” rhetoric in similar ways, to attack movement leaders here with large bases of popular support – in addition to constructing military checkpoints all over the isthmus to prevent migration from central america through mexico. alva also explained her frustration with the continual movement north of those in her hometown, and how this tends to distract people from local issues and struggles – “people get pulled in by the american dream.” i asked how activists in the states could be supportive of their work – she echoed the desire i’ve heard from many for local organizers to better communicate with mexican-immigrant populations in the u.s. – to connect justice work, to share information about what’s happening back in their hometowns, and ultimately to contribute to movements that wouldn’t make the often treacherous trip north seem so necessary. this has got me thinking a lot.
i’m back in oaxaca city for a month, until i go back to the isthmus for more radio work…
i was reading to the lighthouse by virginia woolfe last night. i was remembering the hours i spent swimming with leonel as the sun dashed the bay with pink as warm as the water. i felt again the the rare gift of buoyancy the salt provided. i saw the jumping fish fighting waves. i gave in to their roll and tumble, felt myself fade away, let my skin relax and doubts mix with the tide that never ends its attempts to bring us from the land out to horizons that make minutes, hours, and days seem like silly attempts to divide one wave from another. i remembered alva telling me that she finds her hope in the elementary school students that have developed playful songs inspired by the movement, demanding that teachers tap into a liberatory education, one from a thin isthmus that doesn’t conform with the grand plans of those like myself – those that don’t plan on staying too long at all. and i found a passage from early twentieth century literature that provided the perfect introduction to dreams i knew would be dotted with visions from my recent trip to the sea:
“also the sea tosses itself and breaks itself, and should any sleeper fancying that he might find on the beach answers to his doubts, a sharer of his solitude, throw off his bedclothes and go down by himself to walk on the sand, no image with semblance of serving and divine promptitude comes readily to hand bringing the night to order and making the world reflect the compass of the soul. the hand dwindles in his hand; the voice bellows in his ear. almost it would appear that it is useless in such confusion to ask the night those questions as to what, why, and wherefore, which tempt the sleeper from his bed to seek an answer.”
-v. woolfe
thanks for reading,
patrick
Recent Comments