So I made it to Mexico, and here I am, in a cafe with internet that flickers like an old lightbulb. And I can't help but feel abit like that constant flux myself.
I'm not sure what I expected this trip to be like, and I can't say that I know anymore now than before I left.
Let's back up a little. I do feel very lucky to be here, and I definitely think it is very important to listen to and learn from the Zapatistas. Even if people don't necessarily agree with them, everyone should at least learn about their struggle to overcome their place as a societally steamrolled indigenous peoples facing a certain type of genocide (as they have for generations), to a people who have risen up to make their voices be heard for their own dignity, liberty, and justice, and by doing so, create a new type of community devoted to the acquisition of these fundamental rights, for all people.
I must admit there is nothing more vicerally moving than watching footage of a group of girls, all around the age of fourteen, tear through a barbedwire fence, and screaming and swearing at the top of their lungs, attack a heavily armed group of soldiers, with only their voices and their bare hands. The disconnect between this and the average act of the short minded US activist is that this is a direct action to merely attain survival. There is nothing symbolic, romantic, or cavalier about this. The Zapatistas rose up because they were simply tired of dying, and dying in total silence. Therefore, this is a totally justified act with a direct effect on these peoples' lives.
It has been painfully difficult to get the information that the people running the school have been constantly trying to inundate me with, because it is all in Castellano ("Spanish" in the colonial). Now it's true that the reason I came here was to learn this language, and there is plenty of hand holding in certain classes, but when the Zapatistas really try to drive home their experiences and struggles, and then use their answers to challenge you to recreate your own world, it is completely in a language I am still painfully rudimentary in understanding.
Normally it would be up to others whose Castellano is in a much more stable place to translate this tantamount aspect of our being here, however, often there seems to be much resentment about having to carry the weight of the "slow" members of the group. Which is where my only conflict in being here comes into play.
Now I can't really say that the promontories and I know each other well enough to get along, since at the moment we have no shared language. But they have all been nothing but nice, and patient, and generally pleased that I have come to learn from them. No, my problems come from the typical place: gringos. I have never felt so pre-judged and constantly persecuted by such a hyper-"radical"-political group of people in my life. And because of this two things have happened: One is that by day two I had a serious depression trigger that I am still feeling the wounds from, and two is that since I feel so marginalized in the group, I don't feel like I have the right to be participating. For someone like me who runs the spectrum from "Doesn't get along with many people" to "Fucking hates everyone," it's very difficult to over come this jagged wall of Jersey Barriers in order to listen to the people I truly do want to interact with. This is something I hope to remedy next week, as it will be an impossibly long, and heavily hearted, fruitless month here without this personal reconciliation.
Being in San Cristobal for the weekend has made me realize how murky and unreadable my feelings about this trip are so far. The good news is that this gives me sometime to get a hold on things before, in typical style, my depression takes over. The bad news is that there is that slim chance that the horrifically later will win out. Of course, losing my ipod, which is a constant source of maintaining my frail sanity, will be a serious blow that I don't know how I will deal with yet (and yes, this means I lost my ipod here, week one.)
I can't really embrace some black metal, luciferian dogma here, and become an isolated stoic with a potential will to power. I am just going to have to figure out how to suck it up, and move on.
Once again, my mind works in such bizarre ways. One would think that being in a place where the toilets have no seats, there is only one place to get drinkable water due to amoebas, only being able to shower, wash clothes, and shave once a week, and die in the heat of the day, only to freeze in the cold of the night, would bother me. But these things really haven't (yet). I just take this part and parcel as part of the experience. No, it's my necessary interactions with spiteful people who come from the the same place I do, that are trying to tear this experience from the seams for me, who shatter my stability.
I suppose I thought I would be able to use this escape from my environment to help me reflect on finding the path where answers may lay, to a time in my life when I am beyond lost, confused, and frustrated by where my existence is at. Of course there is such a child-like naivite in that type of logic. I have neither left reality on this trip no more than I have put my personality on hold. Which is another reason that I feel my sentiment is too in flux right now to get even the simplest hold of.
Well, well, well...While I try to piece things together, here are some photos that chronicle only the positive aspects of my trip thus far:
So, yeah, these are the people I am staying with, and learning from.......
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