Fourteenth Part: The Outcome

Above the moon, relieved at last, smiles.

A little girl dreams. She dreams that, with other children, she runs after a ball. Not to run away from bombs and bullets, but to dream that at last it is possible to play in that geography they call Palestine. Girls dream there, that’s why they are killed. The girl dreams a song:

احلم يا صغيري صغيري
حلم أنك تلعب تلعب أنك تحلم
يحلم بأن “الحرية” هي شكل آخر
لتسمية لتسمية الحياة الحياة
حلم الفتيات
لهذا السبب يقتلونهم يقتلونهم
لإسكات الحرية
يقتلونهم

(dream, my little girl / dream that you play at dreaming / dream that “Freedom” is another way / to name life / girls dream / that’s why they kill them).

-*-

 Mexico. The door of impunity, cynicism, apathy, complicity, contempt, hides behind it the absences (like the door that reads “Fiscalía de Colima” (Attorney General of Colima) and charges $200,000 pesos to hand over pieces of a body). For that reason, the searchers not only carry pick and shovel. Now they carry sledgehammers and axes. That’s how defiant they are. With their aching hands and hearts, they touch, feel the door that is believed to be powerful, eternal, unbreakable. Those hands do not plead, that heart does not beg. They only calculate where to unload their dignified rage and find, at last, truth and justice.

-*-

Previously:

Against all rights and lefts, the Prosecutor has argued the accusations in the absence of the accused.  The jury has listened attentively to the brilliant dissertation of the jurist, as well as to the interrogation of a toddler with a blouse stained by candy and dust.  When the prosecutor was expected to ask for the death penalty or worse (it was hinted at forcing the culprit to consume pumpkin soup… for a full week!), by a twisted twist of his reasoning, the statute of limitations was demanded for the crimes and the satisfaction of the economic and/or in-kind demands covering the beetle’s fees.  The sinister gallows was converted, to the disappointment of the science collective, into a stage for theater, dance, music, poetry, film and I can’t remember what else, at the arts gathering. Gatito and Jerman (an old dog, with a ditto humor and in love) were discharged from the Comando Palomitas, so Veronica created a special force: the GRRR (“Grupo de Reacción Retardada Reiterativa”) … Oh, oh, the “Tacomún” collective has arrived, with Manuel leading it and Marijose as lieutenant.

It is suspected that the aforementioned group has come to support the Captain, their most regular customer (not client, because he never pays -he always orders on credit). Disturbances and crowds are expected… in the common dining room, of course. Manuel organizes his troops to resist. The outcome is imminent. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen and fine no-binary people. Innocent or guilty?

-*-

When the Captain arrived at the Court “Veni, Vidi, Vinci” (in legal language: “I came. I saw. I collected”), the artistic community stood around to rebuke him and shout “shame, shame, shame,” with obvious nostalgia -despite the lousy ending of “Game of Thrones”-. The Captain responded with a contemptuous grimace, worthy of the worst Cercei

We can assume that the defendant made prior contact -and perhaps agreements- with the musicals, because, just as he entered, “I am a man of constant sorrow”, a version of The Soggy Bottom Boys (“O Brother, Where Art Thou?”, 2000, Joel and Ethan Cohen) began to be heard. Although, it must be said, the musical attempt failed to even simulate the violin, the choreography of the doomed future was quite passable. The handsome and charming Captain readjusted his stride to folk country style and made his way to the center of the dais.

In an insinuated plagiarism of the poem “El Brindis del Bohemio” (The Bohemian’s Toast, by Guillermo Aguirre y Fierro), the Captain, for all to see, raised his pipe in front of the sinister assembly overflowing with rancor and hatred. He enveloped them in the light of a glance, shook his frayed balaclava and said thus, with an inspired accent:

“I am a man who lives in sorrow. Where is the murder weapon?”

The question baffled everyone, including the magistrate beetle. An anguished silence pervaded the assembly. Only Doña Juanita smiled. There was then an exchange of glances between the Captain and the beetle. Later, opinions would be divided: some would say that it was a look of complicity; others, of reproach.

The murder weapon was supposed to be a spoon, as hinted by the arthropod lawyer, but no such utensil was ever presented.

The Captain looked confident and self-assured. Although the bets organized by the same lawyer-prosecutor-judge were unfavorable to him, the accused smiled flirtatiously, vivaciously and playfully. When everyone began to suspect that the Captain had an ace up his sleeve, wham, the defendant reached into the left sleeve of his shirt sleeve and pulled out… a pipe (who would ever think of keeping a pipe in a shirt sleeve?). He loaded it with tobacco and, with parsimony, lit it and blew out the smoke in great puffs. Still through the fog, the manly voice of the Captain could be heard saying:

“There is no murder weapon; ergo, they have no elements that are not circumstantial to convict me. Not only that, the prosecutor’s arguments leave much to be desired and present serious contradictions.”

For example, he argues my explicable and understandable aversion to “that”. How, then, do you imagine me near a pan full of that lethal element? How is it possible that, given that aversion, I would risk handling it in copious amounts, spoon it out and aim it at the people who make up this community?

You can’t even be sure that I was present. Allow, then, that my sensual figure would have attracted enough attention not to go unnoticed. Because, whatever it is about everyone, nature has been generous with my being, especially with my voluptuous waist, -which makes Botero’s strokes look like a shy Japanese manga-.

Because you should already know that, when it comes to temptation, fluffy, padded and fluffy things are more attractive than the rough lines of a hand washing. Oh, have no fear, when it comes to tastes, the genres are broken and multiplying. If I have learned anything in my previous lives, it is that the desire that awakens is born of the word. The most inaccessible fortresses succumb to it, and there is a thirst that only the imagination can quench. So swake up an leave behind your makeovers and tik-tok’s of a beauty so phony that the calendar soon defeats it.

Before concluding my plea, I direct myself to you, artists and scientists:

If you review, with a minimum of honesty, and a little humility, the word and practice of these first peoples, you will realize that they do not only think of you in the day after, but they also consider you necessary. Is it that they believe that, with your presence and activity, there will have a better chance of not repeating the old world in the challenge they foresee for the day after? Is it a question of humanity? Or is it a reproach for the pity, charity and compassion with which you have addressed them on more than a few occasions? And, despite the contemptuous look, these native people do not only include you in their endeavor. They also fight to give you a place in tomorrow…

Take a look at what those at the top are contemplating for the day after. They do not take you into account. What’s more, they plan to replace you. They dream of an Artificial Intelligence that will develop enough to be able to simulate the “calling”, the “spark”, the “wit”, the “creativity”, the ‘soul’ or whatever you want to call “that” which makes you human.

Do you think you are safe from the storm? Listen to one of those who already suffer from it. Listen to Seekers, to indigenous peoples, to all those people who live from day to day, working from darkness to darkness for pennies. Then you will know that they are or were normal people, who thought they were safe with what they had raised with their own effort. Know how the nightmare came kicking in their doors. How the anguish became daily.

How it changed their agenda and their daily lives. Listen to them say “I trusted governments with my safety and they sponsored my pain.” Understand that no one is safe anywhere, no matter your skin color, your gender, your social position, your playlist.

I’m almost done: Let’s go back to your unjust accusation: According to what you yourselves, my accusers, claim, several people received the projectiles simultaneously or almost simultaneously, which is impossible to achieve with a single spoon and only a pair of arms. The aim was accurate, it is true, but that required not only knowledge of the parameters of drift, range and drag, but also of the weight and consistency of the projectile, as well as knowledge of the height, length and width of a closed enclosure. You are right that it was planned, but that requires a perverse, corrupt and evil mind. And I am just a man of constant sorrow and pain. Besides, busy as I am in discovering the deep secrets to power a bicycle for all time, I would have neither the time nor the patience to do all the calculations.

Now I am going to suppose that you are moderately intelligent people and that you will be able to follow my reasoning:

Since it is evident that no being with two upper limbs could achieve such a devastating effect -. A pause, looking first out of the corner of his eye, then directly at the place occupied by the judge-prosecutor-defender beetle. Then, just like that, very casually, the Captain states: only someone with several pairs of limbs and capable of rising to small heights could achieve the effect that afflicted you in your deplorable garments. Therefore, the culprit is none other than Don Durito of La Lacandona, the all-terrain beetle!

The applied science collective applauded and congratulated one another. They had come to the same conclusion from the beginning, that is why they abstained from participating. And if they designed the platform to hang the Captain, it was because, according to their calculations, the chances of his innocence were minimal.

The artistic community, for its part, mutated into “gorsodomo mode” and pounced on the little bug, who, taking advantage of the lack of coordination of artists and the like, flew away in a graceful flight. As it was, the lynching was a frustrated attempt. The musicians had to improvise and changed their playlist: they had prepared, foreseeing the Captain’s mortal condemnation, “Cerró sus ojitos, Cleto”, but changed it to “La Tertulia” (both by Chava Flores).

At the taqueria, Manuel would bring out an order of tacos al pastor from the stash. Because he and Marijose did not pay attention to the trial, but to Doña Juanita. Seeing Doña Juanita’s smile, Manuel said: “The Captain is going to get away with it.” “Yes,” applauded Marijose, “I thought all the Captain’s debts were gone. Now there is hope that someday he will pay us,” finished Manuel with a sigh.

-*-

Meanwhile, in the Captain’s cave, the exonerated man lit his pipe and thought about human and beetle nature, as well as other things of equal importance. Soon Durito arrived, agitated but amused. He took out of his shell the pipe he had “borrowed” from the Captain and, smoking, said:

“A resounding success. Now I am a convict. I can now become president of a nation, senator, local or federal deputy, at least municipal president of some cartel. Now I only need to plagiarize a law degree thesis and get to the Supreme Court of Justice. From there… the world!”

Dusk falls and the night lies between trees and roofs. Shadows in the shadows, “the two compadres are already ascending towards the high railings / (…) / They trembled on the roofs / tin lanterns / A thousand crystal tambourines, / they wounded the dawn (Romance Sonámbulo, Federico García Lorca).

The beetle says:

“It was a fraud worthy of  ‘The Sting’” (1973, George Roy Hill). Of course, I’m Robert Redford and you’re Paul Newman.” “Dream on,” replied the Captain, “I’m Redford and you’re the other one.” “No way,” replied Durito, “the box office is what matters, and well, I’m the star.” “Well,” replied the Captain, “as long as we don’t end up like ‘Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid’ (1969, George Roy Hill).”

Halfway up the hill the Captain stumbles. He doesn’t realize it, but something falls out of his ratty old jacket. They continue on their way. The camera focuses on the abandoned object. Close up…

Wait a minute! Isn’t that a wooden spoon?

Fade out.

Tan-tan.

(no longer to be continued)

Original text published at Enlace Zapatista on April 12, 2025.
Translation by Schools for Chiapas.

https://abolitionmedia.noblogs.org/?p=18281

Press Release from MODEVITE on the Palenque -San Cristóbal Highway

We, the Tseltal, Tsotsil Indigenous peoples, and the mestizo community, express our opposition to the Palenque–San Cristóbal de las Casas Highway project in Chiapas, and to the construction of the first stretch from Palenque to Ocosingo, as it violates our right to self-determination, to our territory, to live in harmony with nature, and to a healthy, safe, and sustainable environment. We want to make it clear that from its inception, this highway has been a discriminatory, racist, and exclusionary project aimed against those of us who work the land and inhabit the territory.

The Palenque–San Cristóbal de las Casas highway project is not new—it has been proposed since the administration of Chiapas Governor Juan Sabines Guerrero (2006–2012), in collaboration with the Federal Government. Although it has been justified under the guise of “development,” the highway has not been built thanks to the resistance of organized communities that emerged due to the lack of official information and transparency about the project.

In this current administration, the present governor, Eduardo Ramírez, has revived this construction project, and in alliance with the federal government, it has now become one of the most significant projects in the country.

Eduardo Ramírez stated to the media that he would not carry out the construction of the highway without first consulting the people and Indigenous communities. Therefore, on February 17, 2025, the “Guidelines for Conducting Public Consultations Related to Strategic Development Projects in the State of Chiapas” were published in the Official State Gazette, inventing a participation mechanism called a “Public Consultation.”

The so-called “Public Consultation,” according to the government’s published Guidelines, is a mechanism through which people can decide whether or not they agree with the implementation of projects that the government classifies as “strategic development.” These Consultations are overseen by the governor himself and the General Secretariat of Government and Mediation, without including specialized authorities such as the National Institute of Indigenous Peoples (INPI).

Thus, on March 23 of this year, a Public Consultation was held regarding the first stretch of construction—from Palenque to Ocosingo—in the municipalities of Chilón, Salto de Agua, Palenque, and Ocosingo. In this consultation, the authorities did not respect our right to access environmental, social, cultural, or project execution information. The communities were not informed in advance; the invitation was only shared via social media, failing to reach the many communities where there is no cell phone or telephone service. Furthermore, polling stations were only placed in municipal centers—between two and six per location. We witnessed serious irregularities, including people who were not from the municipality being allowed to vote, thus making decisions about land that is not theirs. The true owners of the land, and those most directly affected, were not taken into account.

Once again, the bad government directly discriminates against the Indigenous peoples who inhabit this region. Racism and contempt for Indigenous communities persist, even after the constitutional reform to Article 2, which recognizes our right to consultation and self-determination.

In response to the repeated violations of our human rights, today, March 31, 2025, we have filed two legal injunctions (amparos): one against the guidelines for conducting public consultations, because they are unconstitutional; and another for violating our right to a free, prior, informed, culturally appropriate, and good-faith consultation, which is part of our right to self-determination. We have also decided to exercise our right to petition by submitting requests for information to the Governor of the State, to the Head of the General Secretariat of Government and Mediation, and to the Secretariat of Infrastructure of the State of Chiapas. We demand that they make public the information on the environmental, cultural, and social impacts related to the construction of the Palenque–San Cristóbal highway and the stretch from Palenque to Ocosingo, so that we may freely and informedly decide the future of our territory, ensuring care and respect for our Mother Earth.

Finally, we inform society in general that, based on our right to decide on our own development, the preservation of our cultural and ancestral heritage, our territory, health, equality, self-determination, and autonomy, we—the original peoples—have signed the Declaration of Peoples Free from Megaprojects, a document that represents our collective decision to resist the government’s imposition of a project that violates our rights and threatens the life of our communities.

The land is not for sale—it is cared for and defended.

Movement in Defense of Life and Territory (MODEVITE)
Community Government of Chilón
Communities organized for the defense of territory

https://abolitionmedia.noblogs.org/?p=18244