Democracy in Oxchuc January 6, 2022
Elvira knows all the backroads to her parents’ house, located in the jungle village of Nuevo San Francisco. This allows our party to avoid the hostile delays expected outside of Ocosingo, in the most contentious of the five Zapatista autonomous zones. Residents of nearby Oxchuc are apparently unhappy regarding a recent “electoral dispute.” They are indeed very, very unhappy, as all hell is breaking loose.
In accordance with the Mexican Constitution, regarding Uses and Customs, local indigenous elders decide that votes within this particular autonomous zone are to be cast and counted by a show of hands. Once upon a time, when there might have been a few dozen votes to consider, this traditional form of democracy might have made some sense. However, in the most recent municipal election in Oxchuc, thousands of citizens assembled in a cleared field to cast votes for 6 different factional candidates—by a show of hands. Needless to say, 5 of the factions were displeased by the outcome, as well as the process.
One proven and popular method of gaining wide attention is to block a major thoroughfare, often by cutting down a tree. In this case, the blockage happens to be the only direct route north to the popular ruins at Palenque from San Cristobal and Tuxtla-Gutierrez. The road goes through the city of Ocosingo, the most bloody flashpoint in the 1994 Uprising. Some would say the insurrection has never ended in this area, although today it is not the EZLN that is wielding the weapons. Often it is children.
Mushroom Man tells a story of driving through Ocosingo last year and accidentally opening the window when children approached selling 20-pesos bananas, only to have his friends in the backseat practically dragged out of the car, as he sped away with a panic attack. He still thinks that the mushrooms might help with his PTSD, but a better course of action might be to travel with a Mexican. A Ch’ol-speaking Maya from Palenque would be even better, and for today’s drive our party is fortunate to have both.
There is a facebook site specifically dedicated to roadblocks in Chiapas. Today the posted footage is shocking. In one, a young trio of hippie tourists is recorded at a roadblock being pulled from their car and beaten. In another, downtown Oxchuc is set ablaze with rocket fire, in which Guadalupe-style shells are launched horizontally, like bazookas, toward government buildings. The latest report is that downed trees on either side of Oxchuc have managed to close the town to vehicular traffic. Impromptu toll-attendants charge 200 pesos or more for use of the detour route north to Palenque. Drivers who may righteously object to the extortion face severe consequences, so the advice is to pay the toll and say thanks.
What, if any, of this is due to an “electoral dispute?” The EZLN established very clear guidelines for representational government in the autonomous zones, but whatever they are do not seem to be working. Unless, that is, they are working just as intended, and shaking down foreigners is merely part of the plan. There are, of course, no reliable answers. The situation is irredeemably murky: Autonomous zoning; Trans-state cartels; Federal military on a longer leash; a dozen native languages; extreme poverty; dwindling subsistence lifestyle; unregulated authority; international tourism; and, for those parents of the children selling bananas at the roadblocks, unobstructed rage.
Elvira points toward a dirt track which marks the alternative route to the outback settlement of her childhood. After hours of bumpy driving, what emerges is another world entirely. Nuevo San Francisco is a village of a few hundred Ch’ol Maya, in the heart of the Lacandon jungle. There is federally-subsidized electricity but little else from the outside. There are no stores, no services, just a collection of modest homes filled with beds and mouths to feed. Various paths lead into the jungle, where those with seasoned knowledge can find bountiful supplies of papaya, banana, mandarins. At night, hunters roam the wilds for small game. An unnamed river beside the town serves numerous other needs, including limited agriculture, especially water for the corn.
Corn is central to the household economies here. From stalk to pulverized meal, maíz is the key to subsistence. On days when no other food is available, tortillas become dinner. But that day is not today. Elvira is returning home, bringing friends from the city, who will be treated as honored guests. Her parents have slaughtered a prized pig for the occasion. Marinated in mandarin juice and roasted deep in a bed of coals, Elvira’s family and invited neighbors will feast for days. To celebrate the new year. One neighbor arrives carrying a case of beer, which, in accordance with Ch’ol tradition, he distributes by show of hands. Usos y Costumbres.