No Peace for the Government

This is definitely a “unique” time to be in the mountains of Mexico. The killing of three students from the rural teachers college in Ayotzinapa and the disappearance of forty-three of their companions on September 26 has enraged and mobilized people not only in this state of Guerrero but people from all over the country. The common theme of these protests is, as can be seen in the photo below, “If there is no justice for the people, let there be no peace for the government.”

This sign outside a junior high school in Axoxuca reads: "Ayotzi lives!! If there is no justice
for the people, let there be no peace for the government."

Different government offices have been blocked, ransacked, or damaged. The mayor’s office in Tlapa has been “occupied” for several weeks now. Different schools and colleges are closed; roads are blocked; there are protest marches almost every other day. And it looks like the protests will continue for some time.

The mayor's office and other city offices are closed in Tlapa

Three men are in jail who claim that they were part of the gang who killed and burned the forty-three students. But so many people distrust the security forces and the government that they demand proof of this. In the search for the students, more than ten unmarked graves were found, with more than sixty bodies in them, but none of those bodies have yet been identified as one of the students. So the protest continues.

These children haven't had school for two months now...and no end in sight

The Tlachinollan Human Rights Center of the Mountain (which has been a partner with Mission Mexico for many years) is the principal legal representative for the families of the forty-three missing students. Both the director, Abel Barrera (who has been to Calgary several times), and the main lawyer, Bidulfo Rosales (who had to spend time out of the country last year because of so many death threats against him), have been very, very busy lately. I had breakfast with Abel on Sunday morning; he had just returned from a quick trip to the offices of Amnesty International in Germany.

Abel Barrera, internationally recognized human rights activist

Bidulfo Rosales, main legal representative for family of the 43 disappeared students

At the same time that these struggles continue, life continues in many ways. The rainy season is drawing to a close. Families have been gathering their corn crops and putting the cobs out to dry. Then the kernels are removed from the cob and saved in large bags—and the hope is that there is enough to last until the next harvest.

One family in Tres Caminos drying their corn of many colors

And I was on the road a lot lately. I was in Yosondacua to deliver many bags of threads to a sewing coop for women. I was in Copanatoyac for a retreat for over 230 young people from that parish. I was in Xochitepec with Fathers Juan and Hector as they (along with their volunteer team of five young Mexicans from different places in the country) were preparing simple catechisms in the native me’phaa language for the twenty-six villages in the parish.

Distributing threads to women's sewing coop in Yosondacua

The cover for the catechism in the parish of Xochitepec; the me'phaa title means
"We Follow the Way of Jesus."

Of course, there is such a thing as overdoing it (especially since I’m not a kid anymore), and I did spend the last couple of days sick in bed. But the rest did it, and I’m on the go again.

I won the contest: my feet were the cleanest.

Thanks to everyone supporting Mission Mexico. Every little bit of solidarity is a huge spark of encouragement to the people, and the hope that is nourished is a big factor in continuing the struggle for a more just and dignified life here. God bless.

Mari, Baltazar, Gaudencio, and Eleuteria in Xochitepec

Celebrating Easter in November

Father Juan’s face lit up as he talked about his visits—walking—to many villages in the parish of Xochitepec during the week leading up to the Day of the Dead. He went to many homes and to many “graveyards”—although he was quick to point out that the people never use the word “cemetery”; it’s always campo santo (“holy field” or “holy ground”).

The altar and ofrendas in the home of Delfina and Tomás in Agua Fría

What struck him the most, Juan said, was the realization as he was walking along that, for the indigenous people here, this is Easter! This is the celebration of life after death; this is the certainty that the dead really do accompany their families during this special time of year.

The altar and ofrendas in the home of Guadalupe and Simón in Xochitepec

So the families visit the campos santos, and they set up in their homes an altar for their deceased family members. On the altar are placed ofrendas (food and drink for the journey; life is changed, not ended), velas (candles, so the dead can find their way), cempoalxochitl (a special flower symbolizing beauty, virtue, and truth), pan de los muertos (special bread made in the shape of a human being), and copal (incense, symbolizing the sharing of one’s life with the people). A bamboo arch often goes above the altar; this makes the altar a kind of home (“come in and stay with us”); at the same time, the fact that the arch is a half-circle symbolizes that our time on earth is only a part of the journey of life; the rest—and the best—is yet to come.

These altars are not designed just for the family’s deceased; an arc of cempoalxochitl flowers is placed over the doorway or a trail of such flowers is placed on the ground outside the house, letting those deceased persons who are forgotten or who have no family know that they are invited to enter and be a part of this family.

The doorway to Delfina and Simon's house in Xochitepec

This year was special in one main way. The forty-three young men from the teachers college in Ayotzinapa who have been missing (after being taken away by police in Iguala) since September 26 were in many hearts and minds. In the village of Aguatordillo, forty-three families agreed ahead-of-time to include an extra candle on their altars. Other families found other ways to express solidarity with these young men and their families.

Everyone knows that the "For the 43" refers to the 43 students "disappeared" on September 26

Lighting candles for these young men doesn’t mean that people have lost hope that they be found alive. That hope lives on—nourished by many actions of solidarity: demonstrations, prayer vigils, collections, work stoppages, blocking of roads, etc. The candles symbolize the fact that these young men are part of a larger family. One story I heard was that a child asked his father, “Where is Ayotzinapa?” The father helped the boy place his hand over his heart as he responded, “Ayotzinapa is here.”

The altar at Edith's home in Zitlaltepec

It is a blessing to live among these beautiful people. This celebration of the Day of the Dead is not artificial or a “tourist attraction” for the people. This is life—life lived with God and with the deceased. For example, the second photo above of the altar was taken in the house of Simón and Guadalupe; besides their six children, I doubt that anyone else in the world—other than the dead visitors—saw this altar. Three children invited me to their home for breakfast that morning; that’s the only reason I saw their altar.

Saúl and Sara and Gaudencio (being carried) leading me to breakfast

Of course, the sad part of visiting altars in homes in different villages is to witness the poverty of the people (an example is the barefoot children in the previous photo). Offering me an egg (accompanied by coffee) made for a special breakfast in Xochitepec; offering me a bowl of rice (accompanied by water) made for a special dinner in Agua Fría. And, of course, both dishes were eaten with fingers and tortillas—no forks or knives or spoons. I am grateful to all of the supporters of Mission Mexico for your solidarity with our efforts to bring more light and life to this impoverished part of the world. God bless you.

Walking with Tomás to his house in Agua Fría (it's circled in the background)