A Day and A Night in X'

I had the wonderfully rich experience of visiting the Abeja village of X'oyep ("Shoyep") with the rest of the members of my CPT delegation in July of 2000. We were soon received like royalty by the residents in their outdoor church, with roof and altar at the front but no walls. The church doubled as a public meeting place. The men tended to sit and stand at one side while the women were seated in the middle of the space. The women's traditional handmade dress of many reds and other colours on white blouses, with colourful ribbons braded through their long black hair made for an unforgettable spectacle. Babies appear like extra appendages on the young mothers or older sisters, wrapped and tied happily to the older bodies. Women can be seen hand sewing their clothes while seated at events like this. We were greeted by friendly smiles and handshakes even before the welcoming ceremony began. Language, theirs the Mayan Indigenous Tzotzil with a bit of Spanish, and ours English with a bit of Spanish, was no barrier to the beginning of friendship. They seated us, the eleven visitors, at the front of the assembly and proceeded, with the help of a battery powered P. A. system (there is no electricity in X'oyep) to call on presenters, four women and four men to come up, face us and speak into the microphone to tell us

about their ordeal in their language. The chair of the meeting, Jose, a Catechist (an office of the Catholic Church) translated the messages into Spanish, but no translation was necessary to feel the emotion as the women particularly, found it difficult to complete their speeches without breaking into tears, wiped with the large shawls that they all carry and with which many hid their faces in sorrow. They then moved to shake our hands and many of us could not withhold our tears, kisses and hugs. We were then treated to the beautiful singing of Bienvenidos (Welcome) by the Abejas Women's choir. I have heard them more than once now and their voices sound like heaven. Many of us have purchased tapes to enjoy at home.

Our meals, provided by volunteers from the community, consisted of boiled beans and tortillas with sometimes some cooked egg, or potato or rice and sliced jalapeños, which I grew to love. We brought some small bags of beans, rice, onions and carrots to each village we visited because Jose had told us that they are short of food such as meat and that it is becoming harder for them to find firewood, their traditional way of cooking and heating, because it is dangerous for them to go very far from the village due to the fear of attack from paramilitaries that roam the region.

We met some "peace campers" and volunteer primary teachers, from Italy and from other parts of Mexico, who are staying in the village to provide an international and national presence as a means of protection from attack and also to provide some services for the children of whom there are many.

The troubles are complex, but began when these people, the Abejas (the Bees), a Catholic Indigenous group that believes in non-violent resistance and autonomy from the Mexican government, were driven from their own coffee farms in the surrounding area by paramilitaries who threatened them with death if they did not pay a tax for guns and then used the guns to chase them from their homes. 1100 people fled to X'oyep at the end of 1997 -- previously a village of 73 -- and now live in shacks made of a bit of wood and many with walls of plastic sheeting full of holes. Toilet facilities are grim and running water is provided at a few centres in the village. Even though the paramilitaries are Indigenous young men of different political and religious persuasion, we learned that the intellectual origin of the harassment and murder of the Abejas is found at the highest levels of national, state and municipal governments. The government claims that the large number of army bases that have sprung up around the communities we visited are for the people's protection, but the result is the imprisonment of these people in places like X'oyep when they would rather go home. They can only go home if they give in to the army and then they lose their autonomy. On December 22, 1997, paramilitaries came to the church in the neighbouring village of Acteal and massacred 45 Abejas men, women and children while they were fasting and praying. A security police force stationed nearby did nothing until the massacre was over hours later. The Abejas have received worldwide attention because of the massacre, which so far has prevented any large assaults on the Indigenous people by the army, but paramilitary harassment continues.
	The resistant spirit of the Abejas of X'oyep is illustrated on a mural in their village that shows the women pushing out a heavily armed military force from a high point of land overlooking the village. The army had to settle for a base in a valley below the village, but they regularly patrol the trails leading to and from the road to the village.
We were taken on a hike down the side of the hill that is X'oyep to visit the farms of corn, beans and other crops grown there. In the process we met and played with the children of the people who farm the slopes. There was an impromptu game like basketball going on under a tree with a plastic hoop nailed to it that some of us joined into. We also met farmer Fernando Hernandez Perez and his wife and children. Two of his daughters, ten-year-old Silvia and older sister Paulina sang two Abeja songs of Peace and Justice to us that I will never forget.

Our night was spent in a weaver's shed, with our sleeping bags on top of boards placed on a dirt floor. With no electricity we used candles for light and retired early, only to be awakened often by the loud barking and snarling of the many dogs who come alive after sleeping in the sun all day. At 3:30 am we heard the sounds of roosters crowing along with the slapping sounds of tortillas being made by the women and the strong smoky smell of the cooking fires. The extra tortillas being made were for the memorial mass to be held the next day in Acteal. The mass has been held every 22nd of the month since the massacre. Another sound I heard was the crying of a child through the thin walls who seemed to be in distress, along with voices of its parents trying to give comfort. I hoped that the child was not seriously ill, because there are no doctors or nurses here. However there has been stationed in these communities, large vans of the International Red Cross with signs that indicate that they are there through the courtesy of the European Community. I prayed that there would be medical care available if necessary. Many Indigenous children perish from easily preventable diarrhea and too many Indigenous women die during childbirth.

Breakfast was again constructed around beans and tortillas, and shortly we were on our way to the next village having experienced some of the ruggedness of life of these people but also their irrepressible joy. We pray that those displaced by the low intensity war here will soon be allowed to go home. We also pray to change our consumptive ways in North America so that these beautiful people of X'oyep can have a better life.