Tlachinollan Human Rights Center — Twenty Years of Working for Justice

This week the Tlachinollan Human Rights Center of La Montaña celebrates its 20^th anniversary. A special celebration is scheduled for Friday and Saturday; the theme is “The Mountain of Guerrero: Glimmers of Justice and Hope.”

Abel Barrera, founding director of  the Tlachinollan Human Rights Center

Mission Mexico supports Tlachinollan with an “Emergency Fund” for victims of human rights violations. This fund is used to provide health care, travel costs, food, or lodging for impoverished people who need to go to Tlapa to seek justice. Tlachinollan has received several international awards for its work for justice for the indigenous peoples of La Montaña.

Roberto in his home in Cochoapa el Grande

I will mention here two recent cases (with changed names, for the women’s protection) where the funds from Mission Mexico were able to help Tlachinollan respond to very needy people. Thank you, Mission Mexico supporters, for helping these two women—and many more people.

ROSA SANCHEZ FLORES

Rosa Sanchez Flores, a na savi woman, speaks only her native language (no Spanish). She is from the indigenous village of Loma Linda, Guerrero.

Making their own huipiles (blouses) is still part of the life among the na savi people

Rosa, like many women in La Montaña, has been living alone the past four years because her husband immigrated to the United States to look for work. During this time Rosa has being doing the best she can to look after their six small children. They all live in the house of her in-laws, sharing time and space with the husband’s family.

In 2013 Rosa was the victim of a sexual attack by her brother-in-law, Francisco. She told her father- and mother-in-law about this attack, and they asked her to say nothing so that their son Francisco wouldn’t have problems, especially with his own brother. With no support from anyone and filled with fear, Rosa did not denounce the attack. When it became evident that she was pregnant, Francisco, the attacker, fled to the United States, where he apparently still is.

Walking in the mountain can be almost as bad as driving in the mountain

On April 25, 2014, Rosa realized that it was almost time to give birth, so she started walking toward the nearest hospital—about a four-hour walk away. On the way, she fainted and passed out. When she awoke, she found herself in her in-laws’ house; she couldn’t remember how she got there. The family told her that she had been found with her newly born child dead beside her.

Later, Rosa was arrested by the municipal police for killing her child. Rosa was first placed in the village jail, and then transferred to the local prison in Tlapa; the charge was premeditated murder.

Many women in the mountain have never left their village

The local newspapers published a totally incorrect version of the facts, basically calling Rosa a murderer and suggesting that she had gone walking into the mountains to find a place to give birth and to kill and bury the child, so that her husband would never know about the pregnancy.

The Tlachinollan Human Rights Center heard about the case and went to the prison to interview Rosa (Tlachinollan has lawyers who speak the four native languages of the region). After hearing Rosa’s version, Tlachinollan requested an interview with the judge of the case, who had access to very incorrect information when he had sentenced Rosa to wait in prison for her murder trial.

The judge, after hearing this alternative version of what had happened and after ordering a pre-trial investigation and getting the results (including the fact that Rosa had gone to the hospital twice during her pregnancy, so it wasn’t something she was hiding), reduced the criminal charge to the “misdemeanor” of inadequate care of her child. This latter charge meant that Rosa could be free if she were to pay the five-thousand-peso (about $420 Canadian) fine.

Sunrise on another day in the mountain

Tlachinollan does not usually pay fines, but since Rosa had no access to this amount of money, Tlachinollan paid the fine, and on May 13, 2014, Rosa was released from prison. She still lives with her in-laws, which is not an ideal situation, but at least she is able to be with her six children.

LUISA MORENO AGUILAR

Luisa Morena Aguilar is a twelve-year-old girl from the village of La Joya, Guerrero. Luisa speaks me’phaa, the native language of her region. 

These girls will soon be twelve years old. Let's hope that they don't share Luisa's experience.

In that region, girls tend to “marry” at a young age. There is no dating or courtship process, but the “boy” encourages the “girl” to come to his house some evening, and a few days later the boy’s family goes to the girl’s family to request permission that the boy and girl be allowed to live together from now on.

On May 5, 2014, Luisa was walking to a local store on an errand when an older man (Thomas) grabbed her and carried her through the mountains for three hours to his isolated house. Over the next number of days and weeks Thomas raped her on many occasions. Whenever Luisa tried to run away, she was caught and beaten.

This is América, not Luisa—but she lives in the same kind of "running away" culture

Luisa’s father looked in vain for his daughter for several days. Then, after hearing a rumor that she was in Thomas’ house, he went there. He demanded his daughter’s return. Thomas replied that Luisa had run off with him because she wanted to live with him. At the same time, however, Luisa shouted to her father from inside the house that she wanted to go home.

Luisa’s father spoke with the village authorities, but they said that this “running off” with another was part of the tradition of the village, so the father should just leave well enough alone and let Luisa and Thomas continue their “married life”—even though Luisa was only twelve years old.

The culture is very different in the isolated mountain villages

Not knowing what to do, Luisa’s father went to the parish priest, who suggested that the father speak with the Tlachinollan Human Rights Center. A lawyer from Tlachinollan went to the village and helped the local authorities realize that there is a difference between “running off” and “being kidnapped,” and that beatings and rape should never be a part of the village’s customs and traditions.

The authorities came to agree with the Tlachinollan lawyer, and they told Thomas that Luisa should be allowed to go home. On June 14, 2014, Luisa returned home.

Some children cooling off in the local river  outside Tlapa

Tlachinollan helped Luisa to receive medical care and psychological attention (in her language) in Tlapa. The father knows that Tlachinollan will support him if he chooses to bring legal charges against the aggressor, Thomas. At the moment no one is sure if that will happen.

"I ask your forgiveness..."

Mail service can be slow in Mexico, and I received the other day a letter written a month earlier by Gudelia. The Marist University in Mexico City offers a scholarship to certain students who show leadership qualities while attending the Marist high school in Potoichan, and Mission Mexico helps with transportation, food, and books. Gudelia is one such young person. 

A new day dawning in the mountains

In the following letter, Gudelia states: "I ask your forgiveness..."  I daresay that she need ask for no forgiveness. I hope that you, the reader, will agree with me. Here is a translated version of her letter:

 

Families all over the mountains are busy in the fields

Xalpitzahuac, Guerrero  --  June 16, 2014

Mission Mexico:

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gudelia Galvez Abarca and I am one of the young people receiving a bursary from Mission Mexico. I finished my first year of university studies last summer (2013) at the Marist University in Mexico City. Thank you very much for the support you offered me.

Every plant gets individual attention

 The reason for this letter is to inform you that this coming summer (2014) I am not going to be able to study because of health problems. I get terrible headaches; sometimes I can hardly stand and  I often get dizzy. The doctor tells me that these are called “migraines,” that I have to be very careful to not over-exert myself, and that I have to rest each time I feel the headaches coming on. He says that I have to be sure that I get adequate rest every night. For this reason, I have decided to not go to Mexico City to study this summer. For me it would be a real risk, and I prefer to not study this summer with the hope of getting better. God willing, I will be able to continue studying next summer.

 

Mexicans occasionally use scarecrows in their fields

I suspect that my headaches have something to do with my mother’s death. She was diagnosed with a malignant cancer in September 2013. The first sign was what looked like a pimple on her face, but it kept spreading, and in the end she was blind and couldn’t even open her mouth to eat.

 

Each of these "adornments"outside the chapel in Caxitepec represents
a family´s prayer to chase away the nahua ("spirit") of an illness

I felt responsible because I am the oldest of the six children, so I accompanied her, along with my father, to visit several doctors. During several months we went to different hospitals. This meant many expenses: medical tests, medicines, transportation, and food. We even went to the General Hospital in the State of Mexico.

I was able to make it down this road, but I opted to come back by a different route

 Unfortunately, nothing was able to be done, so we took her home in the month of December. Here, my brothers and sisters and I looked after her as best we could, but it was very difficult. Her face seemed to be being eaten away. We felt desperate as we watched her slowly dying, especially because we often had no money for expenses or for medicines for her pain. My mother finally passed away on January 31, 2014. My mother now rests with God, and I know this is best for her.

This is the kind of farming that keeps Gudelia´s family alive

 The truth is that I feel that this experience has a lot to do with my own health problems. I had headaches when I was going to the doctor with my mom or when I was looking after her during her last weeks of life, but I had to be strong for her and my little brothers and sisters, so I just kept going. They came before me. And now I really am ill. Sometimes I think I’m going to pass out and it’s tough to keep my eyes open. And even small noises seem to hurt my ears.

What life in the mountains can look like in the early morning

 I ask your forgiveness for not studying this summer, and I thank you for listening to me. I hope that you understand me. I would like to humbly request that, if it’s possible, you might be able to support me next summer (2015). I have faith that I will recover my health and be able to continue studying.

Respectfully,

Gudelia Galvez Abarca

A Sower Went Out to Sow

Jesus said: “Imagine a sower going out to sow…”

          Matthew 13:3

                

Next Sunday’s gospel (for July 13) refers to Jesus’ parable about the sower. That’s what the people here in the mountains are doing right now. I only hope that the psalm refrain for that same liturgy comes true: Some seed fell into rich soil and produced its crop.

Don Felipe heading out to sow (near el Cerro de la Garza)

This week I was on the road a lot. One trip took me to Arroyo Prieto. Four Mexican Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul live there and accompany the people in this poorest region of La Montaña. I still remember when they arrived in the Diocese of Tlapa about fifteen years ago. They requested that the bishop allow them to go (in their words) “to the poorest area of the mountains where there is the least presence of Church.” They definitely found that area! 

Early-morning departure for Arroyo Prieto

The sower went out to sow...

I remember too the first time that Father Fred Monk, founding director of Mission Mexico, visited these Sisters. The Sisters insisted that Father Fred sleep in one of the small bedrooms of the second floor of their house. After Father Fred accepted, I went to a neighboring house and left him alone with four nuns who spoke not a word of English—and Father Fred didn't speak Spanish.

The Sisters' two-storey house (in red box) in Arroyo Prieto

When the Sisters led Father Fred to see his bedroom for the night, he realized that it was the bedroom of one of the Sisters, and that one Sister was going to be sleeping on a petate (straw mat) on the kitchen floor downstairs. He tried to make it known through signs that he didn’t want to take the Sister’s room, that he could sleep on the dirt floor. But the Sisters would have none of that. A decent bed was the least they could offer to this visiting priest.

Part of the road (a smooth part) to Arroyo Prieto

When Father Fred finally decided that “arguing” (if you can call people speaking two different languages to each other “arguing”) would do no good, he accepted that he was going to be sleeping in the upstairs bedroom. But he wanted to go to the bathroom before hitting the sack for the night. The Sisters had only an outdoor “bathroom,” and every time Father Fred tried to approach the stairs to go downstairs to get outside, the Sisters grabbed  him and insisted (in Spanish), “No, Father, the bedroom is for you!” They thought that Father Fred’s effort to go downstairs was to sleep downstairs.

Sharing a couple of blankets on road to Arroyo Prieto

Father Fred went into the bedroom and pretended to be going to sleep. After he figured that the Sisters were asleep, he tried to creep down the stairs to get outside. No way! The Sister downstairs heard him and pushed him back upstairs. “No, Father, you get the bedroom.” This occurred several times during the night. 

Part of the road to Arroyo Prieto

 I showed up at about 7 AM the next day and found a very tired Father Fred. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night. He was finally allowed to go downstairs—and out the door. I won’t say that he ran outside—but his pace did seem to be a little rapid. And he definitely had a relieved smile on his face when he returned to the house a little later.

Where I slept on Monday night (near Yosondacua) on my way back from Arroyo Prieto.
I shared the mat on the floor of this one-room home/store with Ramiro and his son Salvador (in photo).

Fortunately, that initial experience didn’t ruin a beautiful relationship over the years between the Sisters and Mission Mexico. Different education and health projects occurred over the years—projects that still impact life in the region. 

The mist is moving in during the late afternoon on road back from Arroyo Prieto

The sower went out to sow…

I had gone to Arroyo Prieto a couple of weeks ago, and the Sisters mentioned that their small fridge had “burned out.” When I mentioned that to Father Fred, he said, “Surprise them with a new one.” So I bought a refrigerator in Tlapa and drove eight hours to deliver it to them. The trip is usually only about five hours, but I went slower and tried to not allow the fridge to bounce around too much on the very bumpy road. I made it, and the Sisters were super-happy with their surprise gift.

The refrigerator and a bundle of blankets for the Sisters in Arroyo Prieto

In the name of the Sisters, I thank the supporters of Mission Mexico for this gift. The Sisters don’t have a vehicle of their own, and a refrigerator allows them to take advantage of their rare visit to Tlapa to buy food for several weeks. Anything Mission Mexico can do to make their life easier makes a difference in how they, in turn, can work to make life “easier” for the impoverished people in their part of La Montaña. The sower went out to sow...

PS: Father Fred, the Sisters now have three “novelties” in their house: an indoor bathroom, a cement floor, and a first-floor bedroom. So please come to visit soon. That would be a wonderful blessing for the Sisters and thousands of others here in the mountains.

Two of the four Sisters who live in Arroyo Prieto, with their new refrigerator: 
(Sor Silvia and Sor Juana)

Rain, Life, and Death in La Montaña

The rains continue, and the peasant families in the mountains are busy planting corn and beans, hoping that their harvests will allow them to eat until the next year’s harvest.

The mountain scenery is especially beautiful at this time of year; there are so many amazing tones of green and blue.

The roads seem to get a little worse each week, as the heavy rains make things muddier on the dirt roads and bumpier on the rocky roads. The “trick” with the mud roads is to try to not “fall into” the deep ruts that often exist.

And driving in the rainy season often means poor visibility, especially in the early morning and late afternoon, as the mist and fog settle in.

Most of this past week—day and night—I spent at the “Hospital for the Mother and Child” that exists in Tlapa. I was accompanying a young couple, Luz and Miguel, from Olinala; they are very active in their parish youth group, and they were expecting their first child.

Hospital for the Mother and Child, in Tlapa

Luz and Miguel

It was a long week, as we waited anxiously outside the hospital on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Miguel (the father) was becoming more and more concerned as the days went by.

Miguel

Finally, their son, Jesus, was born on Thursday night, but he lived for only a few minutes. Two friends, Olinka and Pedro, were allowed into the hospital room, where Pedro (a seminarian here in Tlapa) baptized the child and Olinka was the godmother.

Olinka and Pedro

On Friday I drove the baby and his grandmother, Eudocia, to Olinala, where a short wake for Jesus was held in the family home before Mass in the local church and burial in the local cemetery.

Jesus being waked in Olinala

On Saturday Luz was allowed to leave the hospital, and I drove her and Miguel to their home in Olinala. Luz insisted on giving me a handcrafted gift that is typical of Olinala and that she had painted. It now occupies a place of pride in my room.

Luz's gift for me

Thanks to those who support Mission Mexico for helping to cover some of the costs involved with this medical stay. Someday I hope that I will be able to tell you that Luz and Miguel have a new addition to their family. God bless.

A Lesson In How to NOT Promote Ecumenism

We are hoping that:

If you enter here as a tourist, you would exit as a pilgrim.

If you enter here as a pilgrim, you would exit as a holier one.

                                               Words on a sign near the entrance to the Church

                                                     of the Nativity, in Bethlehem, quoted in

                                                 Jesus: A Pilgrimage, by James Martin, SJ (2014)

I don’t think I was totally naive in believing that something like this could be a realistic hope for a meeting of over 200 people (bishop, priests, nuns, lay people) meeting to discuss evangelization in the Diocese of Tlapa, here in the mountains of Mexico: that we might all emerge from the meeting just a little bit holier.

 

Some participants in the diocesan meeting

But I confess that I was shocked on Tuesday evening after Father David (name changed to protect the guilty) showed a two-hour movie, Jesus of Nazareth according to the Gospel of Luke, that was narrated totally in Nahuatl, one of the three native languages that is very common in the diocese.

After the movie, the following conversation ensued between Father David and the audience:

Father David: “Did you like the movie?”

Audience: “Yes, it was great.”

“Did you notice what was missing in the crucifixion?”

“What do you mean by ‘missing,’ Father?”

“Do you want to see that part again?”

“Sure, Father.”

 

A participant in one of the liturgies

Father David returned to the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion and showed everyone the final moments of Jesus’ life. Then he started up the conversation again:

Father David: “Did you notice this time what was missing?”

Audience: “No, Father? What was missing?”

“Where was Mary? Did you see her at the foot of the cross?”

“Oh, Father, we’re not sure.”

“OK, I’ll show the crucifixion scene again.”

 

A seminarian (Miguel) helping in the kitchen to prepare pozole for all participants

Father David showed the crucifixion scene once again. Then he asked:

Father David: “Did you see Mary at the foot of the cross?”

Audience: “No, Father, we didn't.”

“Do you know why you didn't see her?”

“No, Father. Why?”

“Because this movie was made by Protestants, and they don't like Mary. So they took her out of the movie.”

“Oh, Father, how terrible! How can those darn Protestants be so devious and deceitful?”

I couldn't take it any longer. I raised my hand and got permission from Father David to speak:

Mike: “I don’t think that we can blame the Protestants for removing Mary from the foot of the cross here.”

Audience: “Why not?”

“Does anyone remember the title of the movie?”

“Yes, it’s Jesus of Nazareth according to the Gospel of Luke.”

“Yes, everything in the movie is taken from the Gospel of Luke. Does Luke place Mary at the foot of the cross?”

“We don’t know. Does he?”

“Does anyone have a Bible here?

“Yes, here is one.”

“Could you please read what it says in Luke 23:49.”

A reader read: “But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.”

Mike: “Yes, that’s why Mary isn't at the foot of the cross. Luke didn't put her there; she is ‘at a distance’ along with other ‘acquaintances.’ The only gospel that has Mary at the foot of the cross is John’s. But this movie is based on the Gospel of Luke. So it’s not the Protestants who removed her; it’s Luke.”

Audience: “Oh, maybe the Protestants aren't as devious and deceitful as we thought they might be. Maybe it’s us that have to know our Bible a little better.” 

Some more participants in the diocesan meeting

We still have a long way to go to promote and live ecumenism in the mountains of Mexico, but my hope is that, at least, we “pilgrims” in that meeting emerged just a little “holier” than when we entered—and just a little bit more open-minded about our non-Catholic acquaintances.

An Incredible Educational Experience in the Mountains of Mexico

Let there be among you just one heart and one mind. 

Let it always be said of the Little Brothers of Mary 

as it was of the early Christians: See how they love one another!

                                                                                  -       Marcellin Champagnat

What does one do in the following situation? Most villages in this mountainous region of the state of Guerrero have a primary school, and some have a secondary school. But most do not have a high school. And the high schools that do exist demand, in order to be accepted as a student there, excellence in Spanish, Mexico’s official language.

Students and teachers from the Champagnat High School of La Montaña (2014)

However, even though the primary and secondary education in the villages is supposed to be bilingual, many teachers find it easier to teach the children in their native language (be that nahuatl, me’phaa, or na’savi). So the students who manage to finish secondary school and wish to continue their education often can’t do so because of their deficiencies in Spanish, or because the families just don’t have the economic resources to send their child away to be educated.

Classrooms of the Champagnat High School of La Montaña

Enter the Champagnat High School of La Montaña. The school provides extra training in Spanish for its students. And the school fees are based on the possibilities of the family; fees can range from nothing to bags of corn to a chicken every month to a monetary payment each semester.

A memorial service for Father Manuel, one of the most beloved
directors of the high school; he died of cancer in August 2013.

Today (June 6) is the feast day of Saint Marcellin Champagnat, the French priest who founded the Marist Brothers in 1817. The Marist Bothers in Mexico, with assistance since 2004 from Mission Mexico, built and now operate a high school in Potoichan for poor youth from all over La Montaña.

A typical classroom at the Champagnat High School

I have visited “development projects” in a dozen countries of Latin America as well as in Europe and Africa, and I can honestly say that this high school—the Champagnat High School of La Montaña—is the most amazing and wonderful endeavor that I have seen.

Lunch time at the high school

Right now there are 260 students attending the high school. Of these, 120 are boarding at the school: 60 girls and 60 boys. The other 140 students are either from Potoichan or surrounding villages or they live with families in Potoichan and surrounding villages.

Part of the dormitory for the young women boarding at the school

The students receive a high quality education during the week. On Saturday, all of the students have a service project; it’s a way of “paying forward” the “blessing” that they are receiving by being allowed to continue their education. These service projects involve all kinds of activities in Potoichan and other villages: literacy; health; catechetics; sewing classes; embroidery classes; remedial education work with children; help in the fields; etc.

A student giving a box of food to a woman whose husband died that week

Of course, the dream of almost all of the students is to be able to continue studying beyond high school, but in many cases, that will remain just a dream. The Marist Brothers and Mission Mexico have teamed up to offer some bursaries for further education in the Marist university in Mexico City, but there just aren’t funds available to help everyone. However, the three years of experiences in this incredible school will “mark” the lives of these young people forever.   

Students re-enacting the Way of the Cross

Congratulations today to all of the Marist brothers who participate in this educational project, especially to Brother Salvador Cardona, director of the high school. And thanks to all the supporters of Mission Mexico who give hope to these young people of this impoverished region of Mexico. Please continue your support.

A list of the requirements to live at the high school.
Is your Spanish good enough to note the following requirements?:
speak an indigenous language (well); be of few economic resources (be poor);
not have a high school nearby or in your village of origin; come from isolated
villages, preferably from the area of La Montaña of Guerrero; enjoy manual work
(working in the fields); willingness to relate to all others as equals; willingness
to allow yourself to be guided o accompanied; willingness to fulfill the rules.