Protest here! Protest there!

d

Emiliano Zapata at Plaza de Armas Cuernavaca, Morelos. Author: Deborah Belle. Published with permission.
Emiliano Zapata at Plaza de Armas Cuernavaca, Morelos. Author: Deborah Belle. Published with permission.

by Deborah Belle

During my recent visit to Cuernavaca, Mexico, I let go of my daily obsession with U.S. politics. Without newspapers, television, or much internet contact, I recovered from my need for a daily “Democracy Now” fix, and did not read emails detailing the latest Trump atrocities.

I did, however, pay some attention to Mexican politics and political history. Part of this was unavoidable, as Mexican cities bear the names and often the images of their great revolutionary leaders just about everywhere.

Cuernavaca, and Morelos Province in which it is located, were centers of Revolutionary fighting. The major street near to where I lived is now the Avenida Emiliano Zapata . At the nearest intersection is a large mural showing revolutionary heroes with Zapata highlighted, his strong arms breaking a chain. At the next major rotary is a more-than-lifesize statue of Zapata on his galloping horse, Zapata’s arm and machete extended. The major museum in town has a powerful Diego Rivera mural depicting the domination of the indigenous people beginning with the Spanish invaders, and, again, showing Emiliano Zapata as hero. In a small village nearby were posters with Zapata’s picture reading, “Zapata vive, la lucha sigue!” Zapata lives, the struggle continues.

In Cuernavaca I became aware that the New Year would bring a deeply unwelcome change to the country. The president had announced a significant hike in the price of gasoline, which would, in turn, raise the prices for most other things that people buy. The Mexican minimum wage was recently raised to 80 pesos (less than 4 dollars) a day, and price increases will cause real pain. I was told that protests were likely to follow this price hike. On New Year’s Eve I noticed long lines at the gas stations, as people filled their tanks for the last time with the lower priced gasoline.

Monday, January 2, was to be my last day in Cuernavaca and I had signed up for a day-long trip to the Teotihuacan ruins near Mexico City with a group from the Cemanahuac Spanish language school. We set off at 8:30 in the morning in a large bus, and our guide, Charlie Goff, told us that “if all goes well” we should be back 12 hours later at 8:30 in the evening. On our way Charlie pointed out squatter settlements outside Mexico City and explained the forces that push so many people off their land and into the city with no resources. The tour of the Teotihuacan ruins was fascinating: we climbed the third tallest pyramid in the world, learned about the stone carvings we saw, and left the archaeological site in good time.

A few minutes into our return trip it was clear that all would not go well and that we would not get home by 8:30. We encountered the first of many road blockades and were forced to turn around. Those blockading the roads were organized, polite, and willing to speak with our tour leader. They even offered help in getting our large bus turned around. But they did not allow us through the blockade.

After a time some of us on the bus began to need bathrooms and others got hungry. Charlie scouted out a very tiny bakery with an even tinier bathroom, whose proprietor agreed to let our large group use that small bathroom. This was a particularly generous act on her part because she had no running water and needed to bring buckets of water from elsewhere (and where, exactly, I never knew and did not think to ask) each time one of us flushed her toilet. At length our large group had filed in and out of her bathroom and many of us purchased some of her delicious pastries as well, satisfying all bodily needs. She was continuously gracious and kind.

We got back on the bus and, resigned to our fate, lined up at the back of the unmoving line waiting to get on the major highway back to Cuernavaca. We waited for hours, at rare intervals moving up a few car lengths but then reverting to a standstill. I began calculating the difficulties that would ensue if I did not get back to Cuernavaca that night in time to pack and leave town the next day, or if the road to the airport were blocked for days to come. I concluded, happily, that there would actually be very little lost if I could not get home as quickly as I had planned. The thought of a night on the bus was not terrible. It would be uncomfortable, but not dangerous.

And then we did begin to move. The blockaders opened the roads for us and did not close down any other roads on our way back to Cuernavaca. Instead of 8:30 in the evening, we got home at 1:30 that morning, but with no harm done.

Earlier in the day many of the students in the group had failed to throw away their own trash or conversed loudly during Charlie’s fascinating talks about the ruins and Mexican history, leading me to remember the evocative phrase “ugly American.” Yet during the hours of the road blockade they had been even tempered and uncomplaining. As some said, we were experiencing history being made.

The Mexican drivers and passengers who were trapped on the roads with us similarly did not become angry or abusive as far as I can tell. There was no horn-honking and there were no gestures of anger or threat that I witnessed. The road blockaders themselves seemed organized, committed, and polite. I was struck that I did not see any women blockaders, especially after what I had read about the heroic actions of women assisting the male soldiers during the Revolution. But perhaps the women were active behind the scenes and out of my view.

I am very aware that what I saw was a tiny part of a massive nationwide demonstration. I would be curious to know how the blockades were experienced by others and how they were organized and carried out elsewhere. I wonder to what extent Mexicans sympathize with and support these actions.

I do know that life for many Mexicans is difficult today. The aspirations of the Revolution, “Tierra y Libertad,” Land and Liberty, may be inscribed on government buildings, but they have not yet been fully achieved. Zapata vive. La Lucha sigue!

Deborah Belle is Professor of Psychological & Brain Sciences at Boston University where she also directed the Women’s, Gender, & Sexuality Studies Program (2010-2014). In addition to courses on the Psychology of Women and on Gender & Sexuality she loves teaching “The Psychology of Poverty, Wealth, and Economic Inequality.”