Contact: Mark Anquoe, American Indian Movement - West
(415) 566-5788 gazelbe@yahoo.com
http://www.aimwest.info/
Corine Fairbanks American Indian Movement – Santa Barbara (805) 212-4947
corine68@yahoo.com
http://www.myspace.com/aimsantabarbara
Native Americans Protest Reinstatement of Racist Mascot
By Mark Anquoe and Corine Fairbanks
CARPINTERIA, California – The Carpinteria based Coalition Against Racism in Education (C.A.R.E.) will hold a rally and protest outside of Carpinteria City Hall on Tuesday, February 10th at 4:30 pm. That evening, the Carpinteria district school board will continue to hear arguments regarding a petition to rescind its own April 2008 decision to remove the Native American sports imagery at Carpinteria High School. C.A.R.E. demands that the previous decision be upheld in accordance with official positions on Native American mascots published by the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights, the National Education Association, the American Psychological Association and the National Collegiate Athletic Association, among others.
The demonstration is also being held to draw attention to the threats and intimidation against the Native American community that have become commonplace since the 2008 ruling. Supporters of the racist mascot have made multiple death threats against Eli Cordero, the 15 year old Chumash youth who originally petitioned the school board to remove the imagery. A child of one of the supporting school board members was also targeted, prompting the child’s transfer to another school. No one has been charged with making the threats, as police have refused to recognize any “credible threat”. Those who publicly support the mascot’s removal have been refused service at local restaurants, harassed in their homes and even pursued into and accosted at their churches.
Protest organizers expect aggressive opposition at the Tuesday rally. At a protest on January 27th, the Federal Department of Justice sent an agent from their Los Angeles office to ensure proper police protection of demonstrators. Previous protests have been met with mascot supporters shouting racist epithets, spitting, and throwing rocks.
Although the Carpinteria school board will hear arguments on Tuesday, it is not expected to vote on the matter until February 24th. C..A.R.E is also organizing a rally and march on that date.
February 9, 2009
Katenay: Resistance at Sweet Water Stronghold
Protesting is not Resisting, Resistance are based on Profound Manifestos:
“Ancient Big Mountain Supreme Ways Dictates Dineh Resistance, Pauline Whitesinger Continues to Defy B.I.A. Police Harassment & Threats”
By Bahe Y. Katenay
Sheep Dog Nation Rocks
http://sheepdognationrocks.blogspot.com/
Republished with permission
Sweet Water Stronghold, Big Mountain. February 9, 2009 - Dineh elder resister of the traditional lands of Sweet Water is bundled up for the chilly winds as she takes some hay out to her sheep and goats. The herds need a little extra feed before going out to graze. The non-Indian, volunteer supporter is dressed warm and ready to follow the sheep as he chops some wood for grandma, Pauline and while the herds nibble on the scattered hay on the ground. Not many non-Indian volunteers do occasionally make themselves available from their busy lives to come out for short stays and help traditional, elder resisters. Very few traditional elder residents are now left throughout such regions affected by the harsh relocation laws of 1974.
When asked, “How is everything out here?” The well-outfitted supporter says, “Just a lot of babies, and that is why I’m carrying this!” He wears a large, hand-sewn canvas bag which he referred to is to be used in case any of the sheep or goats have “babies.” Soon the sheep and goats are done feeding and they head towards the great pristine canyon of Sweet Water, and the supporter suddenly quits all chit-chat, grabs his stick and runs off toward a herd that is disappearing into the juniper forest.
Each non-Indian supporter that make these short stays with traditional elders have unique and deep sense of passion that is more than just positive, but they have the understanding of the suffering from injustice and the presence of environmental destruction. Though these kind of ‘hardcore’ supporters are becoming rarer, they value the human connections to nature or to the eco-systems rather than connections to corporate entities and its policing/policies. They see and appreciate, more than most native Americanas, what still exist out here at Big Mountain especially where an elder like Pauline lives. Supporters like this one at Sweet Water do have ‘profound’ commitments to stay two weeks or more to learn and experience a glimpse of natural survival skills and maybe a very small bit of ancient human ritual ways. Within their profound commitments they know they may encounter at any moment the ‘terror-threats’ of the U.S. sponsored, BIA Indian Police Gestapo.
Grandma Pauline moves about slow as she closes the “hay barn” doors that are made from frames of a single-bed, and the barn’s roof is of tattered plastic tarps and the walls are of leaning juniper logs. She greets with a friendly and joyful hand shake as she adds a little sense of humor to her greeting. Grandma is still strong but age is still giving her a challenge, too. She is like a story teller as she makes numerous comments about things and about the conditions out there. She also knows that she is part of a situation which is the struggle for liberation at Big Mountain—her birth place.
A few supporters are very concerned and that is why this independent monitoring of human rights violation and religious intolerance is being carried out. The Arizona-based, Black Mesa Indigenous Support had received a phone message on behalf of Pauline in January about BIA Police personnel posing threats to demolish a traditional earth lodge. Because of the lack of resources, it took a while for the support network to finally establish contact and get the information. This situation with her re-building this sacred lodge should be a natural process but the regional BIA Hopi Agency saw it as a violation of U.S. Court decisions in the name of the federally-supported Hopi council. Grandma Pauline who still lives according to her ancestors’ ancient, cultural lifestyles completed the earth lodge and which is another, direct-action that is obviously missing in Indian country, true Native Resistance!
Grandma recalls what happened on January 20th as she also refers to a radio announcement, “It was about that time, 10 AM, when the radio said that in the east ‘the hand shall to be raised,’ when my grandson beckoned me outside because there were some visitors. It was those BIA-Hopi Police, again, and one officer got out of the vehicle followed by a female officer. I sat down on the bench against the house and they both sat on either side of us, the man who spoke Dineh sat next to me. As he said, ‘we hear you are out here sitting in the mud and we come to check on you,’ the third officer got out of the vehicle and started to walk over towards the newly rebuild lodge.
“My response to the officer next to me was, ‘I’m sitting in the mud out here? You say that as if you spoke with someone that lives with me and knows about my situation.’ Then we all noticed that the third officer was taking more pictures of the earth lodge like (they) do not have enough pictures of it by now.
“I begin to ask the officer sitting with us, why do you all need more pictures and you all should just stop these picture-taking of my home? The officers both ignored my request but the third officer came over and took a couple pictures of me and my grandchildren. The police said nothing more to us but left to return and drive by my resident again, and they drove slowly like they were still up to something. About a week ago, (they) did not come here but (they) again drove by very slowly like they were making some intense observations. I believe these (BIA) police are going to start doing as they please because the actual Hopi council is in defunct…”
The Call to Action for Support Continues
The protests in the American streets where Starbuck, Bank of American and GE own the concrete-n-steel sidewalks are hopeless! Come to the place of opportunity to show the American Police State that you support the natural humans pay homage to, not control, the Mother Earth. At Big Mountain, you will see and understand what real resistance is and experience being part of defending the profound ancient ways of life that are threaten into extinction. Come out, rough it, have patience, find that humbleness within you, and you will be in the human circle for revolution. Help, Save the Microcosm of the Universe at Big Mountain, the Whitesinger Earth Lodge!
© Sheep Dog Nation Rocks, 2009
>>>>
For more information about how you can help, contact: blackmesais@riseup.net or visit www.blackmesais.org and / or leave a voice message @ 928-773-8086.
“Once social change begins, it cannot be reversed. You cannot uneducated the person who learned to read. You cannot humiliate the person who feels pride. You cannot oppress the people who are not afraid anymore. We have seen the future, and the future is ours!”
--Cesar Chavez, (activist & educator)
“Ancient Big Mountain Supreme Ways Dictates Dineh Resistance, Pauline Whitesinger Continues to Defy B.I.A. Police Harassment & Threats”
By Bahe Y. Katenay
Sheep Dog Nation Rocks
http://sheepdognationrocks.blogspot.com/
Republished with permission
Sweet Water Stronghold, Big Mountain. February 9, 2009 - Dineh elder resister of the traditional lands of Sweet Water is bundled up for the chilly winds as she takes some hay out to her sheep and goats. The herds need a little extra feed before going out to graze. The non-Indian, volunteer supporter is dressed warm and ready to follow the sheep as he chops some wood for grandma, Pauline and while the herds nibble on the scattered hay on the ground. Not many non-Indian volunteers do occasionally make themselves available from their busy lives to come out for short stays and help traditional, elder resisters. Very few traditional elder residents are now left throughout such regions affected by the harsh relocation laws of 1974.
When asked, “How is everything out here?” The well-outfitted supporter says, “Just a lot of babies, and that is why I’m carrying this!” He wears a large, hand-sewn canvas bag which he referred to is to be used in case any of the sheep or goats have “babies.” Soon the sheep and goats are done feeding and they head towards the great pristine canyon of Sweet Water, and the supporter suddenly quits all chit-chat, grabs his stick and runs off toward a herd that is disappearing into the juniper forest.
Each non-Indian supporter that make these short stays with traditional elders have unique and deep sense of passion that is more than just positive, but they have the understanding of the suffering from injustice and the presence of environmental destruction. Though these kind of ‘hardcore’ supporters are becoming rarer, they value the human connections to nature or to the eco-systems rather than connections to corporate entities and its policing/policies. They see and appreciate, more than most native Americanas, what still exist out here at Big Mountain especially where an elder like Pauline lives. Supporters like this one at Sweet Water do have ‘profound’ commitments to stay two weeks or more to learn and experience a glimpse of natural survival skills and maybe a very small bit of ancient human ritual ways. Within their profound commitments they know they may encounter at any moment the ‘terror-threats’ of the U.S. sponsored, BIA Indian Police Gestapo.
Grandma Pauline moves about slow as she closes the “hay barn” doors that are made from frames of a single-bed, and the barn’s roof is of tattered plastic tarps and the walls are of leaning juniper logs. She greets with a friendly and joyful hand shake as she adds a little sense of humor to her greeting. Grandma is still strong but age is still giving her a challenge, too. She is like a story teller as she makes numerous comments about things and about the conditions out there. She also knows that she is part of a situation which is the struggle for liberation at Big Mountain—her birth place.
A few supporters are very concerned and that is why this independent monitoring of human rights violation and religious intolerance is being carried out. The Arizona-based, Black Mesa Indigenous Support had received a phone message on behalf of Pauline in January about BIA Police personnel posing threats to demolish a traditional earth lodge. Because of the lack of resources, it took a while for the support network to finally establish contact and get the information. This situation with her re-building this sacred lodge should be a natural process but the regional BIA Hopi Agency saw it as a violation of U.S. Court decisions in the name of the federally-supported Hopi council. Grandma Pauline who still lives according to her ancestors’ ancient, cultural lifestyles completed the earth lodge and which is another, direct-action that is obviously missing in Indian country, true Native Resistance!
Grandma recalls what happened on January 20th as she also refers to a radio announcement, “It was about that time, 10 AM, when the radio said that in the east ‘the hand shall to be raised,’ when my grandson beckoned me outside because there were some visitors. It was those BIA-Hopi Police, again, and one officer got out of the vehicle followed by a female officer. I sat down on the bench against the house and they both sat on either side of us, the man who spoke Dineh sat next to me. As he said, ‘we hear you are out here sitting in the mud and we come to check on you,’ the third officer got out of the vehicle and started to walk over towards the newly rebuild lodge.
“My response to the officer next to me was, ‘I’m sitting in the mud out here? You say that as if you spoke with someone that lives with me and knows about my situation.’ Then we all noticed that the third officer was taking more pictures of the earth lodge like (they) do not have enough pictures of it by now.
“I begin to ask the officer sitting with us, why do you all need more pictures and you all should just stop these picture-taking of my home? The officers both ignored my request but the third officer came over and took a couple pictures of me and my grandchildren. The police said nothing more to us but left to return and drive by my resident again, and they drove slowly like they were still up to something. About a week ago, (they) did not come here but (they) again drove by very slowly like they were making some intense observations. I believe these (BIA) police are going to start doing as they please because the actual Hopi council is in defunct…”
The Call to Action for Support Continues
The protests in the American streets where Starbuck, Bank of American and GE own the concrete-n-steel sidewalks are hopeless! Come to the place of opportunity to show the American Police State that you support the natural humans pay homage to, not control, the Mother Earth. At Big Mountain, you will see and understand what real resistance is and experience being part of defending the profound ancient ways of life that are threaten into extinction. Come out, rough it, have patience, find that humbleness within you, and you will be in the human circle for revolution. Help, Save the Microcosm of the Universe at Big Mountain, the Whitesinger Earth Lodge!
© Sheep Dog Nation Rocks, 2009
>>>>
For more information about how you can help, contact: blackmesais@riseup.net or visit www.blackmesais.org and / or leave a voice message @ 928-773-8086.
“Once social change begins, it cannot be reversed. You cannot uneducated the person who learned to read. You cannot humiliate the person who feels pride. You cannot oppress the people who are not afraid anymore. We have seen the future, and the future is ours!”
--Cesar Chavez, (activist & educator)
The spy maggots, worming their way out
By Brenda Norrell
Censored News
http://www.bsnorrell.blogspot.com/
After the Denver police spy files were revealed in 2002, my friends, the spied upon, said, "It isn't just happening in Denver. It is happening all over the United States."
In Denver, the secret police spy files became public through attorney discovery in a local court case. The spy files did not become public because of the integrity of the Denver Police Intelligence Division. Those secret police spy files included cases that went back 30 years. Of course all of the American Indian activists names were there, the usual suspects working for peace and justice. But there were surprises in the list of 3,200 individuals and 208 organizations.
Denver police spied on an 80-year-old grandmother because she had a "Leonard Peltier" bumper sticker on her car.
Denver police also spied on American Indian attorneys at the Native American Rights Fund and a senator who worked for Native American rights. South Dakota Sen. James Abourezk, who once headed the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs, was spied on. Abourezk obtained a copy of his spy file and said he still didn't have a clue why he was targeted. Abourezk said he hadn't been in Denver in 15 years. The Abourezk spy file just said the Denver police were watching him.
Anyone helping Navajos at Big Mountain or Zapatistas in Chiapas in Denver was under Denver police surveillance.
The Quakers, it turned out, were among the most spied on in the US, revealing the insanity of US police probes of the peace-seeking.
In the end, after a lawsuit was filed against the Denver Police Department by American Indians, the ACLU and others, the spied-upon could go and retrieve their spy files in Denver. However, this required updating Denver police records with current IDs and personal information, so many passed.
Now, years later, spy files are worming their way out of police file cabinets everywhere, like maggots in wait, feeding on the dark and decaying fecal matter of failed trust.
American Indians were a primary target of the Denver police. In retrospect, it appears Denver activists were a sort of pilot project for extensive domestic spying because of the large network of multi-agency task forces in Colorado and secret US military operations in Colorado Springs.
Elsewhere in the United States, groups of peace activists opposed to the Iraq war and organizations working against the death penalty were targets. Their meetings were infiltrated by liars and deceivers. In Maryland, peaceful climate change activists were listed as "suspected terrorists." Code Pink women who never came to Maryland were tracked in spy files by Maryland State Police.
Now, it is revealed that one million Americans are on the US watch list. One million Americans are being spied on. How can any government provide manpower to spy on one million people?
One of the ways that the US spies on 1 million citizens is to place secret spy rooms at telephone companies, including Verizon and AT&T, as revealed in the book, The Shadow Factory. The US subcontracted Israeli companies to data mine the operations, so now Israeli companies have sensitive information on most Americans. Still there was so much information from recording everyone's phone calls and e-mails, it was often ineffective. Those plotting the 9/11 attack were within two miles of the NSA. Although the NSA was listening, probably even eating at the same cafes, the US agents said they did not know the 9/11 plotters were in the neighborhood.
The CIA has a new strategy: Advertising for CIA spies in American Indian newspapers.
In reality, this means that those Native American newspapers are now funded by the CIA. Advertisements for the CIA Clandestine Services have appeared now for months on the websites of Indian Country Today and Native American Times, even on the same webpages with articles about American Indians struggling against this same oppression.
Mohawk Nation News states that spies for foreign nations forfeit their birthright. The US and Canada are foreign governments.
"Espionage is a violation of the Kaianerehkowa, the Great Law, our constitution. A spy breaking their own nation's laws can be imprisoned. Wampum 58 provides that, 'any persons who submit to laws of a foreign people are alienated and forfeit their birthright and claims of the Rotino'shonni:onwe and territory,'" Mohawk Nation News states.
During the Earth First! trial in Prescott, Arizona in 1991, a particularly sleazy informant was on the witness stand, one of many who revealed a trail of FBI misconduct. Of course, that revelation of FBI misconduct did not prevent the majority of the five defendants from going to prison. The FBI even had to drive the monkey wrenchers to their so-called crime because they didn't have a ride.
The sleazy informant was a former boyfriend of one of the defendants. He was placed back in her home as a babysitter to be an informant. He bugged his former girlfriend's bedroom with a listening device. When the federal prosecutor was asked why she placed this sleazy informant on the witness stand, her response was, "Everyone knows that informants are always sleazy."
As a news reporter covering the Earth First! trial as a stringer for AP, this was the first of many revelations in federal court for me, including the fact that the federal prosecutors and the federal judges are on the same team. This trial also opened a window into the corrupt world of US spying and how federal agents coax people into what appears to be a crime.
The question remains, "Who is the criminal now?"
Read more:
ACLU, July 2008: Watch list hits 1 million
http://www.aclu.org/privacy/35968prs20080714.html
Israeli firms listen to your cell phone calls
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95689436&ps=cprs
More on the Israeli telephone spy subcontractors:
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1029006
AT&T whistleblower exposes network monitoring room
http://blog.wired.com/27bstroke6/2008/06/att-whistleblow.html
Tacoma, Wash., police spy files; police shared files with private prison contractor GEO (formerly Wackenhut)
http://seattle.indymedia.org/en/2009/01/271435.shtml
Brandon Darby, exposes himself as federal informant in Katrina aid at Common Grounds and RNC, New York Times
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/05/us/05informant.html?ref=us
Obama says Freedom of Information Act is back in 2009:
http://www.narconews.com/Issue55/article3347.html
ACLU: Denver police spy files
FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force
Spy Files documents indicating that the FBI's Joint Terrorist Task Force is tracking peaceful protesters. Spy Files Documents relating to the Multi-Agency Group Intelligence Conference (MAGIC). http://www.aclu-co.org/spyfiles/samplefiles.htm
Maryland State Police spied on activists
http://www.aclu.org/police/spying/37898prs20081119.html
Censored News
http://www.bsnorrell.blogspot.com/
After the Denver police spy files were revealed in 2002, my friends, the spied upon, said, "It isn't just happening in Denver. It is happening all over the United States."
In Denver, the secret police spy files became public through attorney discovery in a local court case. The spy files did not become public because of the integrity of the Denver Police Intelligence Division. Those secret police spy files included cases that went back 30 years. Of course all of the American Indian activists names were there, the usual suspects working for peace and justice. But there were surprises in the list of 3,200 individuals and 208 organizations.
Denver police spied on an 80-year-old grandmother because she had a "Leonard Peltier" bumper sticker on her car.
Denver police also spied on American Indian attorneys at the Native American Rights Fund and a senator who worked for Native American rights. South Dakota Sen. James Abourezk, who once headed the Senate Committee on Indian Affairs, was spied on. Abourezk obtained a copy of his spy file and said he still didn't have a clue why he was targeted. Abourezk said he hadn't been in Denver in 15 years. The Abourezk spy file just said the Denver police were watching him.
Anyone helping Navajos at Big Mountain or Zapatistas in Chiapas in Denver was under Denver police surveillance.
The Quakers, it turned out, were among the most spied on in the US, revealing the insanity of US police probes of the peace-seeking.
In the end, after a lawsuit was filed against the Denver Police Department by American Indians, the ACLU and others, the spied-upon could go and retrieve their spy files in Denver. However, this required updating Denver police records with current IDs and personal information, so many passed.
Now, years later, spy files are worming their way out of police file cabinets everywhere, like maggots in wait, feeding on the dark and decaying fecal matter of failed trust.
American Indians were a primary target of the Denver police. In retrospect, it appears Denver activists were a sort of pilot project for extensive domestic spying because of the large network of multi-agency task forces in Colorado and secret US military operations in Colorado Springs.
Elsewhere in the United States, groups of peace activists opposed to the Iraq war and organizations working against the death penalty were targets. Their meetings were infiltrated by liars and deceivers. In Maryland, peaceful climate change activists were listed as "suspected terrorists." Code Pink women who never came to Maryland were tracked in spy files by Maryland State Police.
Now, it is revealed that one million Americans are on the US watch list. One million Americans are being spied on. How can any government provide manpower to spy on one million people?
One of the ways that the US spies on 1 million citizens is to place secret spy rooms at telephone companies, including Verizon and AT&T, as revealed in the book, The Shadow Factory. The US subcontracted Israeli companies to data mine the operations, so now Israeli companies have sensitive information on most Americans. Still there was so much information from recording everyone's phone calls and e-mails, it was often ineffective. Those plotting the 9/11 attack were within two miles of the NSA. Although the NSA was listening, probably even eating at the same cafes, the US agents said they did not know the 9/11 plotters were in the neighborhood.
The CIA has a new strategy: Advertising for CIA spies in American Indian newspapers.
In reality, this means that those Native American newspapers are now funded by the CIA. Advertisements for the CIA Clandestine Services have appeared now for months on the websites of Indian Country Today and Native American Times, even on the same webpages with articles about American Indians struggling against this same oppression.
Mohawk Nation News states that spies for foreign nations forfeit their birthright. The US and Canada are foreign governments.
"Espionage is a violation of the Kaianerehkowa, the Great Law, our constitution. A spy breaking their own nation's laws can be imprisoned. Wampum 58 provides that, 'any persons who submit to laws of a foreign people are alienated and forfeit their birthright and claims of the Rotino'shonni:onwe and territory,'" Mohawk Nation News states.
During the Earth First! trial in Prescott, Arizona in 1991, a particularly sleazy informant was on the witness stand, one of many who revealed a trail of FBI misconduct. Of course, that revelation of FBI misconduct did not prevent the majority of the five defendants from going to prison. The FBI even had to drive the monkey wrenchers to their so-called crime because they didn't have a ride.
The sleazy informant was a former boyfriend of one of the defendants. He was placed back in her home as a babysitter to be an informant. He bugged his former girlfriend's bedroom with a listening device. When the federal prosecutor was asked why she placed this sleazy informant on the witness stand, her response was, "Everyone knows that informants are always sleazy."
As a news reporter covering the Earth First! trial as a stringer for AP, this was the first of many revelations in federal court for me, including the fact that the federal prosecutors and the federal judges are on the same team. This trial also opened a window into the corrupt world of US spying and how federal agents coax people into what appears to be a crime.
The question remains, "Who is the criminal now?"
Read more:
ACLU, July 2008: Watch list hits 1 million
http://www.aclu.org/privacy/35968prs20080714.html
Israeli firms listen to your cell phone calls
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=95689436&ps=cprs
More on the Israeli telephone spy subcontractors:
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1029006
AT&T whistleblower exposes network monitoring room
http://blog.wired.com/27bstroke6/2008/06/att-whistleblow.html
Tacoma, Wash., police spy files; police shared files with private prison contractor GEO (formerly Wackenhut)
http://seattle.indymedia.org/en/2009/01/271435.shtml
Brandon Darby, exposes himself as federal informant in Katrina aid at Common Grounds and RNC, New York Times
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/05/us/05informant.html?ref=us
Obama says Freedom of Information Act is back in 2009:
http://www.narconews.com/Issue55/article3347.html
ACLU: Denver police spy files
FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force
Spy Files documents indicating that the FBI's Joint Terrorist Task Force is tracking peaceful protesters. Spy Files Documents relating to the Multi-Agency Group Intelligence Conference (MAGIC). http://www.aclu-co.org/spyfiles/samplefiles.htm
Maryland State Police spied on activists
http://www.aclu.org/police/spying/37898prs20081119.html
Investigation: COINTELPRO 'Reign of Terror'
From: LPBSG North Denver CO
Subject: The FBI must be investigated re. COINTELPRO “Reign of Terror”
Sample Letter : To The Honorable John Conyers, Jr.
Chairman Committee on the Judiciary
U.S. House of Representatives
2138 Rayburn House Office Building
Washington, DC 20515
Dear Congressman Conyers,
COINTELPRO is an acronym for a series of counterintelligence programs conducted in the 1950s-1970s by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) against various dissident groups and political activists.
Despite citizens’ efforts since 1975, no serious effort has been made to officially investigate alleged constitutional and human rights violations by the FBI against such organizations and individualsnor have such occurrences against residents of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, South Dakota, been addressed.
In 1975, the U.S. Senate Select Committee to Study Governmental Operations with Respect to Intelligence Activities (or “Church Committee”) was poised to address allegations of misconduct with respect to the FBI’s counterintelligence program and its targeting of Indigenous civil rights organizations and Native American activists following the 71-day siege at Wounded Knee, SD (27 Feb-8 May 1973). That hearing was cancelled and never rescheduled.
The last official request for relief, initiated in March 2004 (and still pending), was a request to your Committee for congressional hearings focused on the FBI’s improper use of confidential informants in Indian Country.
I join with other activists and organizations in asking the Committee on the Judiciary, U.S. House of Representatives, to schedule hearings on "COINTELPRO: Its Legacy and Continuing Impact." This inquiry must include an investigation of the so-called “Reign of Terror” on the Pine Ridge Reservation (1973-1976), the many deaths and injuries that occurred during that time, and the role of the FBI in fomenting violence on the reservation in an attempt to “neutralize” the Indigenous rights movement.
All Americans have the right to know the truth. Most of all, however, Indians must be heard on these matters.
I believe that these measures will finally bring closure to the residents of Pine Ridge and put to rest the tragic events of the 1970s. I also believe this to be the Committee’s opportunity to find the truth and, hopefully, pass legislation that will begin to address some of the gross injustices committed not only against political activists and dissident organizations under the auspices of COINTELPRO, but reverse laws enacted since September 11, 2001, that have limited our constitutional freedoms.
Sincerely, [Your Full name + address & Signature] -- end sample letter --
Send a copy of your correspondence to: Senator Patrick Leahy,
Chairman Committee on the Judiciary
U.S. Senate
224 Dirksen Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510
IPF WEBSITE:
http://users.skynet.be/kola/index.htm
and www.myspace.com/leonardpeltierisinnocent IPF e-mail: ipforum@skynet.be
Also, please visit the website of the Leonard Peltier Defense Offense Committee (LPDOC): www.whoisleonardpeltier.info
LPDOC e-mail: contact@whoisleonardpeltier.info
Subject: The FBI must be investigated re. COINTELPRO “Reign of Terror”
Sample Letter : To The Honorable John Conyers, Jr.
Chairman Committee on the Judiciary
U.S. House of Representatives
2138 Rayburn House Office Building
Washington, DC 20515
Dear Congressman Conyers,
COINTELPRO is an acronym for a series of counterintelligence programs conducted in the 1950s-1970s by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) against various dissident groups and political activists.
Despite citizens’ efforts since 1975, no serious effort has been made to officially investigate alleged constitutional and human rights violations by the FBI against such organizations and individualsnor have such occurrences against residents of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, South Dakota, been addressed.
In 1975, the U.S. Senate Select Committee to Study Governmental Operations with Respect to Intelligence Activities (or “Church Committee”) was poised to address allegations of misconduct with respect to the FBI’s counterintelligence program and its targeting of Indigenous civil rights organizations and Native American activists following the 71-day siege at Wounded Knee, SD (27 Feb-8 May 1973). That hearing was cancelled and never rescheduled.
The last official request for relief, initiated in March 2004 (and still pending), was a request to your Committee for congressional hearings focused on the FBI’s improper use of confidential informants in Indian Country.
I join with other activists and organizations in asking the Committee on the Judiciary, U.S. House of Representatives, to schedule hearings on "COINTELPRO: Its Legacy and Continuing Impact." This inquiry must include an investigation of the so-called “Reign of Terror” on the Pine Ridge Reservation (1973-1976), the many deaths and injuries that occurred during that time, and the role of the FBI in fomenting violence on the reservation in an attempt to “neutralize” the Indigenous rights movement.
All Americans have the right to know the truth. Most of all, however, Indians must be heard on these matters.
I believe that these measures will finally bring closure to the residents of Pine Ridge and put to rest the tragic events of the 1970s. I also believe this to be the Committee’s opportunity to find the truth and, hopefully, pass legislation that will begin to address some of the gross injustices committed not only against political activists and dissident organizations under the auspices of COINTELPRO, but reverse laws enacted since September 11, 2001, that have limited our constitutional freedoms.
Sincerely, [Your Full name + address & Signature] -- end sample letter --
Send a copy of your correspondence to: Senator Patrick Leahy,
Chairman Committee on the Judiciary
U.S. Senate
224 Dirksen Senate Office Building
Washington, DC 20510
IPF WEBSITE:
http://users.skynet.be/kola/index.htm
and www.myspace.com/leonardpeltierisinnocent IPF e-mail: ipforum@skynet.be
Also, please visit the website of the Leonard Peltier Defense Offense Committee (LPDOC): www.whoisleonardpeltier.info
LPDOC e-mail: contact@whoisleonardpeltier.info
Zapatistas: Women's Event, Oventik, March 2009
ZAPATISTA ARMY FOR NATIONAL LIBERATION
by Subcomandante Marcos
To the compañeras of the Other Campaign, the Zezta Internacional, and all women who are adherents of the Sixth Declaration:
Compañeras:
As part of the celebrations for the next International Day of Women in Struggle, the Comandantas of the CCRI-CG of the EZLN are organizing a sporting, cultural, and political event for March 7 and 8, 2009, in the Caracol of Oventik, Altos of Chiapas.
As the Comandantas were still discussing the characteristics of this encounter of Women in Struggle, we got news of the death of our compañera in the Other Campaign in Chihuahua, Doña Concepción García de Corral.
“Mamá Corral” we called her, we the Zapatistas, to this woman, mother of social strugglers fallen in combat and tenacious struggler herself for the return of those disappeared for political reasons. She took us in as her sons and daughters without conditions or opportunisms, and with a care and affection that had nothing to do with stages and photos. When those of us who make up the Sixth Commission met her personally, we felt in her that strength that has surely held up more than once our compañeras Mothers of the Disappeared of Chihuahua, our “mamaces” in the struggle.
Although the event was originally planned for Zapatista women, the Comandantas were thinking they would also invite OTHER women that are also our compañeras in Mexico and in the world, and, when we found out about the death of Doña Concepción García de Corral, they decided to give this celebration the nom de guerre that we knew and know her by: MAMÁ CORRAL, in order to honor women who are mothers and that, regardless of age, do not give up, do not sell out, do not give in.
And so, carrying out the orders of our bosses, the Comandantas Zapatistas, we send you an invitation to the:
MAMÁ CORRAL Political, Sporting, Cultural, and Artistic Event
To be held March 7 and 8, 2009, in the Caracol of Oventik, Chiapas, and which will have the following characteristics:
- Only WOMEN can participate directly in the sporting events and artistic and cultural acts, and they may participate regardless of age, race, religious belief, language, nationality, or sexual preference.
- The men who attend can only participate by cooking, taking care of children, cleaning, or working to support the event.
- There will be 3 sports: Basketball, Volleyball, and Soccer
- There will be cultural acts like songs, poetry, theater, mural newspapers, and dances.
- The women’s teams that form to participate in the sports should register on the Enlace Zapatista webpage, including which sport they want to participate in, how many women are on their team, their team name, and what their uniform will be if it is the case that they are going to wear uniforms. This is in order to organize the games in the tournament.
- The women or groups of women that are going to participate in the cultural numbers should also register on the Enlace Zapatista webpage, including what they are going to perform, how many people will perform, and what they are calling themselves if they are calling themselves something, so that we can program the event.
- The sporting events will start March 7, 2009 on the courts of the Caracol of Oventik and, if there are a lot of teams, will continue on March 8, 2009.
- The cultural acts will be scheduled for the evening of March 7 and the afternoon and evening of March 8, according to how many numbers are programmed.
- On March 8, 2009, the Comandantas Zapatistas will give a message of struggle.
That’s all for now.
Liberty and Justice for Atenco!
Liberty, Justice, and Safe Return of the Political Prisoners and the Disappeared!
From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast
For the Indigenous Revolutionary Clandestine Committee-General Command of the Zapatista Army for National Liberation
Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos.
Mexico, January 2009.
Story for Mama Corral by Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos
For Mama Corral
Compañeras:
As part of the celebrations for the next International Day of Women in Struggle, the Comandantas of the CCRI-CG of the EZLN are organizing a sporting, cultural, and political event for March 7 and 8, 2009, in the Caracol of Oventik, Altos of Chiapas.
As the Comandantas were still discussing the characteristics of this encounter of Women in Struggle, we got news of the death of our compañera in the Other Campaign in Chihuahua, Doña Concepción García de Corral.
“Mamá Corral” we called her, we the Zapatistas, to this woman, mother of social strugglers fallen in combat and tenacious struggler herself for the return of those disappeared for political reasons. She took us in as her sons and daughters without conditions or opportunisms, and with a care and affection that had nothing to do with stages and photos. When those of us who make up the Sixth Commission met her personally, we felt in her that strength that has surely held up more than once our compañeras Mothers of the Disappeared of Chihuahua, our “mamaces” in the struggle.
Although the event was originally planned for Zapatista women, the Comandantas were thinking they would also invite OTHER women that are also our compañeras in Mexico and in the world, and, when we found out about the death of Doña Concepción García de Corral, they decided to give this celebration the nom de guerre that we knew and know her by: MAMÁ CORRAL, in order to honor women who are mothers and that, regardless of age, do not give up, do not sell out, do not give in.
And so, carrying out the orders of our bosses, the Comandantas Zapatistas, we send you an invitation to the:
MAMÁ CORRAL Political, Sporting, Cultural, and Artistic Event
To be held March 7 and 8, 2009, in the Caracol of Oventik, Chiapas, and which will have the following characteristics:
- Only WOMEN can participate directly in the sporting events and artistic and cultural acts, and they may participate regardless of age, race, religious belief, language, nationality, or sexual preference.
- The men who attend can only participate by cooking, taking care of children, cleaning, or working to support the event.
- There will be 3 sports: Basketball, Volleyball, and Soccer
- There will be cultural acts like songs, poetry, theater, mural newspapers, and dances.
- The women’s teams that form to participate in the sports should register on the Enlace Zapatista webpage, including which sport they want to participate in, how many women are on their team, their team name, and what their uniform will be if it is the case that they are going to wear uniforms. This is in order to organize the games in the tournament.
- The women or groups of women that are going to participate in the cultural numbers should also register on the Enlace Zapatista webpage, including what they are going to perform, how many people will perform, and what they are calling themselves if they are calling themselves something, so that we can program the event.
- The sporting events will start March 7, 2009 on the courts of the Caracol of Oventik and, if there are a lot of teams, will continue on March 8, 2009.
- The cultural acts will be scheduled for the evening of March 7 and the afternoon and evening of March 8, according to how many numbers are programmed.
- On March 8, 2009, the Comandantas Zapatistas will give a message of struggle.
That’s all for now.
Liberty and Justice for Atenco!
Liberty, Justice, and Safe Return of the Political Prisoners and the Disappeared!
From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast
For the Indigenous Revolutionary Clandestine Committee-General Command of the Zapatista Army for National Liberation
Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos.
Mexico, January 2009.
Story for Mama Corral by Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos
For Mama Corral
(stories to replace injections)
By Subcomandante Marcos
By Subcomandante Marcos
January 2009
To whom it may concern:
It was before dawn when the news arrived. The cold night got colder and the upon daybreak, we discovered something like a hole, as if we were missing something, as if we had lost something very much our own.
The geography from which we fight, the Zapatistas, is extensive. On maps it carries the name “Mexico,” and to get to each of its corners is a task even more extensive.
In the calendar of the Sixth we arrived at one of its strangest corners, because despite what the map and the mileage counter indicated, history, that complex network of calendars and geographies from below, signaled that we had arrived at one of our most pained hearts: Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua.
Ciudad Juárez. That of the young women workers killed with impunity. Killed for being women, for being young, for being workers… for being. That of the dignified rage of the inhabitants of Lomas de Poleo, resisting attacks, traps, slander, silence.
That of Mamá Corral.
No, I’m not going to tell her story. That is for those who have been with her all this time, and who remain at her side, struggling for the return of the disappeared.
We went to talk to her. It was a private meeting with her and other relatives of the disappeared. That’s what she asked for, that’s what we asked for. It was in the living room of her house. There we piled in some 15 or 20 people.
Doña Concepción García de Corral was the oldest… and the strongest.
As if the calendars she lived through searching for her son, José de Jesús, had not tired her. As if not giving up had allowed her to see further.
The relatives spoke. They said, in so many words, “We want to know the truth.”
Doña Concepción went beyond that: “If God has given me so many years of life it is because José de Jesús is still alive and I am going to find him.”
No, I don’t remember if those were her exact words, but I think that was the meaning.
Then I spoke.
I didn’t say much.
Or I said everything.
I don’t really remember, but I think that I told them what I would want people to tell my relatives if there were such a time, place, and manner: we didn’t go away because we didn’t love you, but rather because we do love you, but in a different way, in another manner.
Don’t give me too much credit, but it was then that I hugged Doña Concepción García de Corral and said in her ear, “Mamá Corral”.
Then I left.
I always leave.
Again the geographies and calendars came to bring us and take us. But it is in them and because of them that we know about her.
I think once we even dedicated a text to her. It should be around out there somewhere.
Maybe she read it. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she understood what we told her: “Here we are and we will not forget.”
So it happens that I was writing some stories because someone was sick and we had to give them something, even if from a distance.
And also because I’ve received a ton of protest letters. Some from supposed medical societies reprimanding me for my declarations against injections, and others from furious mamaces (mothers) because they were left holding the prepared syringe when the victim refused the torture, citing a supposed point in the supposed national program of struggle that supposedly prohibited the production, traffic, and consumption of injections. In sum, they hold me responsible of the most terrible epidemics and endemics.
That’s a lie. I haven’t received any letters of protest. But my ears are buzzing, which, according to my mother, means that someone is talking badly about you.
So, pressured by Lupita and Toñita, I went to work in my laboratory to produce an alternative medicine for injections. That’s when the first of the “Stories to replace Injections” came out.
While I was awaiting the decision of the Comandantas about whether they were going to have a sport and cultural event for March 8, I got the news, before dawn, of the death of Mamá Corral.
It came in a letter signed by the Committee of the Mothers of the Political Disappeared of Chihuahua that ended like this: “Subcomandante Marcos, please receive our acknowledgement and our condolences. Mamá Corral has left, but she’s still here at your side and at ours. Receive a big hug and our blessing.”
It hurt. A lot.
Later I reread those lines and I thought yes, she is at our side and on our side. And so, with the appropriate permissions, I made a few changes and modifications to the first of the “Stories to replace Injections,” and I told it to Mamá Corral, to Helena, and to all of the mamaces who hurt, just like I tell it here:
I. Remedy for a broken heart:
The Story of the Other Little Leaf
Once upon a time there was a little leaf that was at the top of a tree, the highest part of the tree. The little leaf was happy because she had a lot of other little leaves around and they all sang so nicely when the wind moved them. And the little leaf could see very far, the whole valley and even the neighboring mountains.
Of course, this also had its downside because, for example, since there were a lot of little leaves together, well, the gossip would fly. “Did you see so-and-so all stuck together with so-and-so,” they would say. And this would create a ruckus because the rumor would circulate and then somebody else would answer, “well look who’s talking, you who is always up there close to so-and-so from over there.” So, the little leaves fought a lot among themselves, as they are known to do.
It also would happen that, when it rained, the little leaves at the top were the first to get wet and they couldn’t say that thing about “how nice it is to see the rain and not get wet.”
But this had its compensations, because when the sun came out, those at the top were the first leaves to dry off.
So there the little leaf from this story was, swinging in the rains and the suns, when a strong wind came and threw her off the branch where she had been living. And the little leaf began to fly, turning somersaults, up and down with the air currents.
“¡Sweeeet!” said the little leaf, that was somewhat of a skater.
“¡Yesssssssss!” she yelled when she could do a double loop very close to the roof of a hut. Later a gust of wind drew her close to a cloud painted with many colors that said: “Freedom and Return of the Disappeared.”
And another read: “The good thing about skating the clouds is that the police can’t get up here.”
And the little leaf went from here to there like that.
But then the wind took its song somewhere else and the law of gravity applied itself in all its rigor and the little leaf, not really wanting to, fell all the way to the ground.
“¡Órales!” said the little leaf, “now what am I going to do?”
The little leaf wanted to return to the highest part of the tree. That’s where her friends were, even if they were gossipy. And even though she was the first to get wet in the rain, she was also the first to warm up in the sun, and she really could see far. And even if the wind knocked her off again, she could try the new pirouettes that had occurred to her, and she was even thinking about skating a cloud that had letters in many colors and funny sizes demanding freedom and justice.
The little leaf tried walking, but since she had always been hanging onto a branch in the tree, well she couldn’t really get the hang of walking.
Just then a little ant passed by. The little leaf recognized it, because it was a little ant that had come one time to the top of the tree and she had even given it a bite of her leaf.
“Hi!” said the little leaf to the little ant.
“And you, who are you? Do I know you?” responded the little ant, who, for a change, was in a bad mood.
The little leaf introduced herself: My name is Little Leaf and I live in the highest part of the tree, but I fell and now I want to go home but I don’t know how to do it, can you help me?
The little ant just looked at her awhile, then looked at the tree, then looked at the little leaf again. The little ant spent awhile just looking.
Finally the little ant said, “Well no, here you’re out of luck, because I would have to carry you and I’d have to climb alllllll the way up the tree without the birds eating me, or the anteater. And then, even if we get to the highest part of the tree, well then the problem is how we’re going to stick you back on the branch where you belong.
The little leaf stayed there looking at the little ant awhile, and then looked at the tree. She was there awhile just looking, that is, she was picking up the manners of the little ant.
Finally the little leaf said, “It won’t be a problem, because we can go buy glue in the copy shop or I can just hang on really tight to the branch where I belong.”
The little ant listened to the little leaf and stayed there looking at her awhile and…. well, now we’re not going to say she spent awhile looking because the story is going to get really long that way.
So the little ant said, “Alright then, I’ll take you, but first I have to go see my comadre (close friend) to ask for corn because I ran out. You want to come with me or you want to wait for me here?
The little leaf thought that, when the little ant found her comadre, they were going to take awhile just looking at each other and then the story was going to end without her having solved her problem, so she answered, “I’ll go with you! And that way we can by glue in the copy shop on the way.”
So the little ant carried the little leaf up the hill and started to walk in the direction of her comadre’s house.
On the way, the little leaf was looking at lots of things that she had never seen before, or that she had but from the top of the tree where she lived.
They passed by the little noncomformist stone on one side, the one that wanted to be a cloud, and they thought it looked quite large. While she was watching the little nonconformist stone do exercises to lose weight, the little leaf thought, “from above things look really different.”
“Or they aren’t seen at all,” said the little ant, who in addition to being hot-tempered could also hear the thoughts of other beings.
“Yeah, or they aren’t seen at all,” the little leaf thought.
They kept walking.
Well, the little ant walked that is, because the little leaf just went along looking at the same world that she had seen from above but, seen from below, it was another world.
And the little leaf looked and looked.
For example, she saw the bad and the bad guys, dressed as government functionaries, as businessmen, as airplanes bombing little children, as police beating and killing young people and disappearing social activists, as men raping women, as those who persecute those who practice other loves, as racists, as radio and television broadcasters, as journalists, as political analysts, as commissars of thought.
But she also saw a beetle with a helmet on, smoking a pipe and writing in an ultra-mini-micro-computer.
And she saw Lupita and Toñita playing with some giraffes that somebody gave them in the Festival of Dignified Rage. And she saw the Sup when he told the little girls that those weren’t giraffes, they were a couple of cows that had stretched their necks out because somebody wanted to make stew out of them, but the cows refused and resisted because they were rebellious cows and their necks stayed stretched out because of their resistance, but they weren’t giraffes. And she saw Toñita and Lupita scolding the Sup and they showed him a book of animals so he would see that these were indeed giraffes and not cows with their necks stretched out. And she saw that the Sup responded that that wasn’t true, that the same people who wanted to make stew out of the cows had written that book, so that it wouldn’t get out what they had tried to do. And she saw the little girls bringing syringes because they said the Sup was sick and that’s why he said so many dumb things, and they were going to cure him. And she saw the Sup running away. She didn’t see if they caught up with him or not.
And she saw the dark side of the moon, when Shadow, the warrior, carried her by in a sling.
And she saw Elias Contreras, Commission of Investigation for the EZLN, take some flowers to the tomb of Magdalena.
And she saw Old Antonio rolling a cigarette.
And she saw indigenous men and women, who had never gone to school, explaining the world to a researcher with a doctorate in the social sciences.
And she saw Zapatista troops building a shed to house Insurgent Radio.
And she saw Moy talking to the Autonomous Agrarian Commissions about a land problem.
And she saw a couple touching each other, their skin completely naked, and she saw that it didn’t matter if the couple was a woman and a man, or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, or an other and an other.
And she saw that someone had scratched on a wall, “A wall without graffiti is like a cone without ice cream,” and she saw that the wall had become a flag.
And she saw that nobody was prepared to confront Polifemo.
And she saw the calendars and geographies walk to meet each other.
All these things and more the little leaf saw, but that is for other stories.
Finally they arrived where the little ant’s comadre lived, and, as was expected, the comadre wasn’t there because they took so long and she had to go appear in another story, so they went to the copy shop to buy glue.
The little leaf, with everything she had seen, had forgotten that she was going to buy glue. So she said to the copy shop attendant, “I want a notebook and some fun colored pencils.”
The attendant responded, “How can colored pencils be fun? Colored pencils are colored pencils.”
From there followed a long discussion about whether inanimate objects can have feelings, a discussion that we won’t go into here because if we do the story will go in another direction.
Anyway, it turns out that the little leaf gets her colored pencils, her notebook, and her glue (because the little ant reminded her why they had gone to the copy shop).
A little while later, the little ant and the little leaf arrived at the foot of the tree.
They had already started climbing when, boom! It felt like an earthquake.
Everything began to crack and break.
As if a jigsaw puzzle had been taken apart and the pieces mixed up.
The radio, the television, and the newspapers from above didn’t say anything about it because they had also come apart, so what could be found out was due to alternative media having published it.
It turns out that the Zapatistas had won the war against oblivion and the whole world was turning to look and ending up backward.
Now the sun didn’t come up in the east, but in the west.
And what had been above ended up below and what had been below, above.
And it turns out that, to get to the branch where the little leaf lived, now they had to go down instead of up to get to the top of the tree.
“Sonofa…” said the little leaf and the little ant, and they started to argue with each other.
The little leaf blamed the little ant because it had taken so much time looking and during that time the Zapatistas had won and turned the world upside down.
“So that the world is right side up,” that’s what the Zapatistas said, and, as is usually the case, nobody understood them.
The End
Vale. Cheers and patient rage, Mamá Corral, patient rage.
SupMarcos
Mexico, January 2009
To whom it may concern:
It was before dawn when the news arrived. The cold night got colder and the upon daybreak, we discovered something like a hole, as if we were missing something, as if we had lost something very much our own.
The geography from which we fight, the Zapatistas, is extensive. On maps it carries the name “Mexico,” and to get to each of its corners is a task even more extensive.
In the calendar of the Sixth we arrived at one of its strangest corners, because despite what the map and the mileage counter indicated, history, that complex network of calendars and geographies from below, signaled that we had arrived at one of our most pained hearts: Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua.
Ciudad Juárez. That of the young women workers killed with impunity. Killed for being women, for being young, for being workers… for being. That of the dignified rage of the inhabitants of Lomas de Poleo, resisting attacks, traps, slander, silence.
That of Mamá Corral.
No, I’m not going to tell her story. That is for those who have been with her all this time, and who remain at her side, struggling for the return of the disappeared.
We went to talk to her. It was a private meeting with her and other relatives of the disappeared. That’s what she asked for, that’s what we asked for. It was in the living room of her house. There we piled in some 15 or 20 people.
Doña Concepción García de Corral was the oldest… and the strongest.
As if the calendars she lived through searching for her son, José de Jesús, had not tired her. As if not giving up had allowed her to see further.
The relatives spoke. They said, in so many words, “We want to know the truth.”
Doña Concepción went beyond that: “If God has given me so many years of life it is because José de Jesús is still alive and I am going to find him.”
No, I don’t remember if those were her exact words, but I think that was the meaning.
Then I spoke.
I didn’t say much.
Or I said everything.
I don’t really remember, but I think that I told them what I would want people to tell my relatives if there were such a time, place, and manner: we didn’t go away because we didn’t love you, but rather because we do love you, but in a different way, in another manner.
Don’t give me too much credit, but it was then that I hugged Doña Concepción García de Corral and said in her ear, “Mamá Corral”.
Then I left.
I always leave.
Again the geographies and calendars came to bring us and take us. But it is in them and because of them that we know about her.
I think once we even dedicated a text to her. It should be around out there somewhere.
Maybe she read it. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she understood what we told her: “Here we are and we will not forget.”
So it happens that I was writing some stories because someone was sick and we had to give them something, even if from a distance.
And also because I’ve received a ton of protest letters. Some from supposed medical societies reprimanding me for my declarations against injections, and others from furious mamaces (mothers) because they were left holding the prepared syringe when the victim refused the torture, citing a supposed point in the supposed national program of struggle that supposedly prohibited the production, traffic, and consumption of injections. In sum, they hold me responsible of the most terrible epidemics and endemics.
That’s a lie. I haven’t received any letters of protest. But my ears are buzzing, which, according to my mother, means that someone is talking badly about you.
So, pressured by Lupita and Toñita, I went to work in my laboratory to produce an alternative medicine for injections. That’s when the first of the “Stories to replace Injections” came out.
While I was awaiting the decision of the Comandantas about whether they were going to have a sport and cultural event for March 8, I got the news, before dawn, of the death of Mamá Corral.
It came in a letter signed by the Committee of the Mothers of the Political Disappeared of Chihuahua that ended like this: “Subcomandante Marcos, please receive our acknowledgement and our condolences. Mamá Corral has left, but she’s still here at your side and at ours. Receive a big hug and our blessing.”
It hurt. A lot.
Later I reread those lines and I thought yes, she is at our side and on our side. And so, with the appropriate permissions, I made a few changes and modifications to the first of the “Stories to replace Injections,” and I told it to Mamá Corral, to Helena, and to all of the mamaces who hurt, just like I tell it here:
I. Remedy for a broken heart:
The Story of the Other Little Leaf
Once upon a time there was a little leaf that was at the top of a tree, the highest part of the tree. The little leaf was happy because she had a lot of other little leaves around and they all sang so nicely when the wind moved them. And the little leaf could see very far, the whole valley and even the neighboring mountains.
Of course, this also had its downside because, for example, since there were a lot of little leaves together, well, the gossip would fly. “Did you see so-and-so all stuck together with so-and-so,” they would say. And this would create a ruckus because the rumor would circulate and then somebody else would answer, “well look who’s talking, you who is always up there close to so-and-so from over there.” So, the little leaves fought a lot among themselves, as they are known to do.
It also would happen that, when it rained, the little leaves at the top were the first to get wet and they couldn’t say that thing about “how nice it is to see the rain and not get wet.”
But this had its compensations, because when the sun came out, those at the top were the first leaves to dry off.
So there the little leaf from this story was, swinging in the rains and the suns, when a strong wind came and threw her off the branch where she had been living. And the little leaf began to fly, turning somersaults, up and down with the air currents.
“¡Sweeeet!” said the little leaf, that was somewhat of a skater.
“¡Yesssssssss!” she yelled when she could do a double loop very close to the roof of a hut. Later a gust of wind drew her close to a cloud painted with many colors that said: “Freedom and Return of the Disappeared.”
And another read: “The good thing about skating the clouds is that the police can’t get up here.”
And the little leaf went from here to there like that.
But then the wind took its song somewhere else and the law of gravity applied itself in all its rigor and the little leaf, not really wanting to, fell all the way to the ground.
“¡Órales!” said the little leaf, “now what am I going to do?”
The little leaf wanted to return to the highest part of the tree. That’s where her friends were, even if they were gossipy. And even though she was the first to get wet in the rain, she was also the first to warm up in the sun, and she really could see far. And even if the wind knocked her off again, she could try the new pirouettes that had occurred to her, and she was even thinking about skating a cloud that had letters in many colors and funny sizes demanding freedom and justice.
The little leaf tried walking, but since she had always been hanging onto a branch in the tree, well she couldn’t really get the hang of walking.
Just then a little ant passed by. The little leaf recognized it, because it was a little ant that had come one time to the top of the tree and she had even given it a bite of her leaf.
“Hi!” said the little leaf to the little ant.
“And you, who are you? Do I know you?” responded the little ant, who, for a change, was in a bad mood.
The little leaf introduced herself: My name is Little Leaf and I live in the highest part of the tree, but I fell and now I want to go home but I don’t know how to do it, can you help me?
The little ant just looked at her awhile, then looked at the tree, then looked at the little leaf again. The little ant spent awhile just looking.
Finally the little ant said, “Well no, here you’re out of luck, because I would have to carry you and I’d have to climb alllllll the way up the tree without the birds eating me, or the anteater. And then, even if we get to the highest part of the tree, well then the problem is how we’re going to stick you back on the branch where you belong.
The little leaf stayed there looking at the little ant awhile, and then looked at the tree. She was there awhile just looking, that is, she was picking up the manners of the little ant.
Finally the little leaf said, “It won’t be a problem, because we can go buy glue in the copy shop or I can just hang on really tight to the branch where I belong.”
The little ant listened to the little leaf and stayed there looking at her awhile and…. well, now we’re not going to say she spent awhile looking because the story is going to get really long that way.
So the little ant said, “Alright then, I’ll take you, but first I have to go see my comadre (close friend) to ask for corn because I ran out. You want to come with me or you want to wait for me here?
The little leaf thought that, when the little ant found her comadre, they were going to take awhile just looking at each other and then the story was going to end without her having solved her problem, so she answered, “I’ll go with you! And that way we can by glue in the copy shop on the way.”
So the little ant carried the little leaf up the hill and started to walk in the direction of her comadre’s house.
On the way, the little leaf was looking at lots of things that she had never seen before, or that she had but from the top of the tree where she lived.
They passed by the little noncomformist stone on one side, the one that wanted to be a cloud, and they thought it looked quite large. While she was watching the little nonconformist stone do exercises to lose weight, the little leaf thought, “from above things look really different.”
“Or they aren’t seen at all,” said the little ant, who in addition to being hot-tempered could also hear the thoughts of other beings.
“Yeah, or they aren’t seen at all,” the little leaf thought.
They kept walking.
Well, the little ant walked that is, because the little leaf just went along looking at the same world that she had seen from above but, seen from below, it was another world.
And the little leaf looked and looked.
For example, she saw the bad and the bad guys, dressed as government functionaries, as businessmen, as airplanes bombing little children, as police beating and killing young people and disappearing social activists, as men raping women, as those who persecute those who practice other loves, as racists, as radio and television broadcasters, as journalists, as political analysts, as commissars of thought.
But she also saw a beetle with a helmet on, smoking a pipe and writing in an ultra-mini-micro-computer.
And she saw Lupita and Toñita playing with some giraffes that somebody gave them in the Festival of Dignified Rage. And she saw the Sup when he told the little girls that those weren’t giraffes, they were a couple of cows that had stretched their necks out because somebody wanted to make stew out of them, but the cows refused and resisted because they were rebellious cows and their necks stayed stretched out because of their resistance, but they weren’t giraffes. And she saw Toñita and Lupita scolding the Sup and they showed him a book of animals so he would see that these were indeed giraffes and not cows with their necks stretched out. And she saw that the Sup responded that that wasn’t true, that the same people who wanted to make stew out of the cows had written that book, so that it wouldn’t get out what they had tried to do. And she saw the little girls bringing syringes because they said the Sup was sick and that’s why he said so many dumb things, and they were going to cure him. And she saw the Sup running away. She didn’t see if they caught up with him or not.
And she saw the dark side of the moon, when Shadow, the warrior, carried her by in a sling.
And she saw Elias Contreras, Commission of Investigation for the EZLN, take some flowers to the tomb of Magdalena.
And she saw Old Antonio rolling a cigarette.
And she saw indigenous men and women, who had never gone to school, explaining the world to a researcher with a doctorate in the social sciences.
And she saw Zapatista troops building a shed to house Insurgent Radio.
And she saw Moy talking to the Autonomous Agrarian Commissions about a land problem.
And she saw a couple touching each other, their skin completely naked, and she saw that it didn’t matter if the couple was a woman and a man, or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, or an other and an other.
And she saw that someone had scratched on a wall, “A wall without graffiti is like a cone without ice cream,” and she saw that the wall had become a flag.
And she saw that nobody was prepared to confront Polifemo.
And she saw the calendars and geographies walk to meet each other.
All these things and more the little leaf saw, but that is for other stories.
Finally they arrived where the little ant’s comadre lived, and, as was expected, the comadre wasn’t there because they took so long and she had to go appear in another story, so they went to the copy shop to buy glue.
The little leaf, with everything she had seen, had forgotten that she was going to buy glue. So she said to the copy shop attendant, “I want a notebook and some fun colored pencils.”
The attendant responded, “How can colored pencils be fun? Colored pencils are colored pencils.”
From there followed a long discussion about whether inanimate objects can have feelings, a discussion that we won’t go into here because if we do the story will go in another direction.
Anyway, it turns out that the little leaf gets her colored pencils, her notebook, and her glue (because the little ant reminded her why they had gone to the copy shop).
A little while later, the little ant and the little leaf arrived at the foot of the tree.
They had already started climbing when, boom! It felt like an earthquake.
Everything began to crack and break.
As if a jigsaw puzzle had been taken apart and the pieces mixed up.
The radio, the television, and the newspapers from above didn’t say anything about it because they had also come apart, so what could be found out was due to alternative media having published it.
It turns out that the Zapatistas had won the war against oblivion and the whole world was turning to look and ending up backward.
Now the sun didn’t come up in the east, but in the west.
And what had been above ended up below and what had been below, above.
And it turns out that, to get to the branch where the little leaf lived, now they had to go down instead of up to get to the top of the tree.
“Sonofa…” said the little leaf and the little ant, and they started to argue with each other.
The little leaf blamed the little ant because it had taken so much time looking and during that time the Zapatistas had won and turned the world upside down.
“So that the world is right side up,” that’s what the Zapatistas said, and, as is usually the case, nobody understood them.
The End
Vale. Cheers and patient rage, Mamá Corral, patient rage.
SupMarcos
Mexico, January 2009
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