By Melissa Mundt
Field Coordinator Melissa Mundt's firsthand account of La Otra Campaña's inaugural festivities.
The masked Zapatista next to me is older. He speaks in stilted Spanish, evidence of learning a second colonial language later in life. But he is too excited to be self- conscious.
"I’ve never seen Marcos," he says, "and well, I guess I can’t really see him now." He chuckles, pointing at the figure on the stage nearly hidden by the other members of the comandancia and delegates of the Sexta committee.
"But we can hear him," I say.
"I like what he said about the seed, what was that again?” he asks.
The seed of hope has already been planted in good earth," I say.
"In good earth," he smiles and nods.
In the plaza on January 1, 2006, the numerous foreigners and Mexicans made a healthy crowd. The coletos, typically conservative people of San Cristóbal, were nearly absent, most at home as evidenced by little traffic on the streets and lots of closed signs hanging in store windows. We listened to local musicians, talked to friends, and waited anxiously as news trickled in. "Marcos has arrived… the march has started… they’re by the bus station…" Peace House folks had been involved in independent media photography and interviews all day, so I knew the crowd coming with the march would be substantial. Nevertheless, I don’t think anything could have quite prepared me for that moment.
Subcomandante Marcos and the other Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional (EZLN) comandancia and delegates were ushered in past the flashes of cameras by a tight ring of local activists providing security. They were followed by a constant flow of masked supporters. When the comandancia at last reached the stage, settled in and began to speak, the chants of Zapatistas moving towards the zocalo blocks away could still be heard.
I was perched up on a raised cement area as thousands of masked men, women and children flowed in around me like a wide river. They had been traveling all day from all over Chiapas. They traveled from many different communities, support bases and Caracoles, and then waited or marched all afternoon. And yet the plaza was full of energy and excitement. Groups were self organized by region and they linked arms around their leaders to move into the square as a mass, giggling with the inevitable pushing and pulling that is maneuvering thousands of people into a small space. When all the marchers arrived, they filled the plaza in front of the cathedral, the zocalo, part of the andador and all the streets in between.
In these moments, the Otra Campaña had commenced what will be a six-month "tour" through all 32 Mexican states. Throughout the tour, Delegado Zero, otherwise known as Subcomandante Marcos, will be meeting with organizations and groups who hope to create another form of doing politics, generally those with anti-capitalist and leftist orientations. Though the EZLN has spent the last few months dialoging and communicating with other groups, the coming months will be devoted to finding this national common ground of struggle. In San Cristóbal, the feeling was distinctly Zapatista.
Marcos begins his remarks by speaking in Tzotil and the enthusiasm and interest of the crowd was resounding. As Marcos holds near legendary status in the eyes of many Zapatistas who have much less access to his speeches and comunicados than your average international solidarity activist, his presence was momentous. This movement will hopefully fortify and unite the Mexican left; but long after the march moves on to Quintana Roo, Tabasco and Sonora, it will continue to have its roots firmly planted in the good earth of Chiapas.
When all the delegates have spoken and been whisked from the stage, the locals, Mexicans and foreigners begin to drift off. The crowd of Zapatistas, however, does not disperse. They settle in for the night on the cold cobblestones, sharing tortillas and atole. Someone brings out a guitar and throws another log on the bonfire in front of the cathedral. It is a surreal sight, thousands asleep in the town square. As I walk home. I think about how this never would be possible in the United States. I am grateful and humbled everyday by the lessons Chiapas has to teach me and look forward to seeing the Otra Campaña unfold.
