The Road to Betania and Belén Nuevo July 17, 2021
The road between San Cristóbal and Comitán is currently closed due to a tree fall. This should not be worth mentioning except for the fact that the tree is not very big and yet the road is still closed. My Utah fireman friend Steve would have this obstacle removed in a matter of minutes with his trusty chainsaw. But here on Route 190, the only way to get between two of the major cities in eastern Chiapas, the road remains closed. As to why the 190 is shut indefinitely, one would have to know the inscrutable minds of the resident authorities of the villages of Betania and Belén Nuevo, through which this thoroughfare passes, or at least used to pass.
Belén is the Spanish word for Bethlehem, where the old-world Chuy Cristo was born once upon a time, and new-world neighboring Betania shares its affinity for the New Testament savior. They are fairly new mountaintop towns, 3 generations deep, at most, and they were established by Protestant sects, mostly Evangelicals and Pentecostals, who were converted in the 20th-Century by missionaries. The flocks are a mix of Mestizo and Amerindian, and their governments enforce strict ordinances against alcohol, vagrancy, and idol-worship. In short, their peculiar laws are particularly anti-Catholic—one observer describes them as “como Muslim.” In this sense, the recent actions involving one fallen tree in the road are to effectively cut off travel between 2 Catholic centers. Strangely, but very Chiapanecan, there is nothing that the Catholics or anyone else can do about it. The leaders of Betania and Belén Nuevo make the rules, and this ad hoc rule currently says to STOP.
The federal law codifying local communities’ ability to govern and police themselves is referred to as “Usos y Costumbres.” As we have previously discussed, this bow to local traditions and customs can allow local governments free hand to sanction abusive practices, to control the flow of information, and to establish order and punish crime in sometimes horrifying ways. For example, there is rarely a rape in Belén Nuevo or Betania, for any accused perpetrator is burned alive, without a trial. These towns want to be left alone, and, with typically cold nights and without a beer to be bought within city limits, they for the most part are.
We are discussing the situation at Viña de Bacco, a bar on Real de Guadalupe popular with expats, where I meet Panchito, my neighbor on Avenida Panteleón Domínguez, who has lived in San Cristóbal for all of his 81 years. He has seen the changes to the city, particularly since the heady years of the 1990’s, after the Zapatista Uprising. “So many hotels now,” he says, acknowledging the influx of visitors. “But still so much beauty,” he adds, placing a hand on the lap of a young woman he has just met.
Panchito is a real Casanova. His hard-won wisdom of the ages seems to focus on the simple pleasures in life—food, wine, and women. There is so much he wants to teach the young people (like me!), and he even hints at some of the secret places. However, when I ask what he makes of the roadblock in Belén Nuevo and Betania, he does not dare hazard an opinion. Indeed, he and his new friend both raise their eyebrows suspiciously when I press the subject, although it may be my lemonade and journalistic pretensions. Regardless, my rude intrusions are killing the loving vibe. Panchito raises another random toast and winks at the ladies.
Jodi mutters under her breath, “He’s a bit handsy after a few glasses.” I am not too worried, although he is certainly dressed the part of a player, sporting a stylish white Guayabera pleated-shirt and polished black leather shoes. This guy must be quite a dancer. I hope he plans to pay for all the wine he is ordering for these women, as they have no intention. He has the cologne-dashed air of a gentleman. I am sure he takes rejection well.
Jodi tries to be helpful—“Maybe they are protesting the abuse of those student teachers, you know, sisters in the struggle.” She is referring to the 70 or more women who were jailed last month by state authorities for “mutiny” and other high crimes, apparently for establishing a road block on the road from San Cristóbal and Tuxtla-Gutierrez, the largest city in Chiapas. Perhaps she is right, or maybe it is something else altogether, like the woes befalling nearby Pantelhó and Chenalhó. Or, maybe the obstruction is driven by sovereign land-use rights in a mountain community rich in timber, which is suddenly becoming contested real estate. A fallen tree that will not be moved might send an appropriate message from the forest people.
Panchito remains noncommittal to the speculation, although he has not given up with Jodi, who takes pleasure in being almost young enough to be his daughter. The old man undoubtedly understands many things I do not, and one is the silent respect that must be accorded to the people who come from this land—places like Betania and Belén Nuevo—as well as the danger that comes from asking too many questions. It is also worth mentioning that Panchito is probably Catholic. Salud.
So, for now, the tree stays where it is.