'Images of Impossible Bridges: Yo A Radish' -- Zapatista Women's Sweet Memory of France

A sweet remembrance from the Zapatista women in France, on the Journey for Life.

Images of Impossible Bridges: Yo A Radish…

(Or an onion, depending on the case, or thing, depending)

By El Capitan, Marcos
August 2024
Espanol, German, Italian

No, I don't mean that I don't give a damn about what they say against me for defending their precious precious. Nor that, as "progressives", they are red on the outside and white on the inside. I'm talking about a radish. Of the vegetable, then, that they call "radish".

This little story begins in the Journey for Life, Europe chapter. Before they left, I asked some of my classmates to send me photos of what they saw and what caught their attention in the places they would be assigned to.


And indeed. After the photos and videos of the departure, of how they were stuck in an airport because they missed their connection (thanks to the support of the support team), images from different places began to arrive.

No, contrary to what one might think, the photos were not of monuments, tourist sites, landscapes, walks or selfies . They were of the things that caught their attention, thanks to the importance that the delegation gave to those who were their hosts: people, groups, collectives, organizations and movements so different in color, size, race, language, culture and motivation, that it seemed impossible that a single look could encompass them. However, in the Zapatista gaze they were united. “Our family from here,” they said when they walked the lands of rebellious Europe, the one that does not faint, the one that does not surrender. Now, already in Zapatista lands, it is not unusual to hear “our family from there.”

There were photos of animals, of plants, of the food they received, of the people, of the mountains, of the “ways” of the families “over there.”

Of all of them, the one that caught my attention the most was the photo of a radish. Of course, as a mortal enemy of vegetables, I thought it was a red onion. Even so, I classified it: “photo of a red onion.”



Later, when they returned, the companion who took the photo clarified to me that it was not an onion, but a radish. She says with emotion:

“Maybe it’s an onion. It’s a radish, but it’s a completely different one. It’s a different size and a different color, but inside it’s a radish. So it’s very different than here in my garden, but it’s the same. And the radish was very pretty. And they also plant leeks. Which is different, but it’s the same. And what caught my attention is that they grow, that is, they work, to give to other people who don’t have food. So it’s not that they keep the fruit of their work for themselves, but that they share it with those who need it.”



“And those families there, do they get discouraged? No, even if there is no land to plant, they find a way. For example, they just use stones and grow their vegetables anyway. What they do is go and look for good soil, they carry it and put it on the stones or in pots. And there they have their vegetables!”

“I used to only have my vegetables in the cornfield. But on the trip I learned that you can also grow them at home. So I also grew vegetables in the place where I live. And I have radishes and leeks. They are different from those of my family there, but they are the same.”

“No, it's not an onion, it's a radish. The place is called “Bulgaria”, the capital of the country called “Sofia”. I corrected her then and she just said “it's the same thing”, and continued:

“We had been in a geography called “Slovenia” before and there we also learned about their ways of being and how they fight. In France we had to be abandoned. And while we were staying at the house of a friend who didn’t speak any Spanish, and I speak Cho’ol so my Spanish is very different. My team was made up of only women, Tzotzil, Tzeltal and Cho’ol, and our job was to give talks about how we are women. Then we had been accompanied by a citizen from Mexico who had to return home. And when she left she told us “don’t worry, I’m going to install an application that translates. You just talk to the cell phone and the cell phone will listen to it, translate it and speak it in the language you tell it to.” But since the cell phone doesn’t understand “Spanish”, or “Tzotzil-ñol”, or “Tzelta-ñol”, then it translated something different from what we wanted to say. And the friend who was giving us shelter, she just laughed. And we suffered a bit, because we wanted to go to the bathroom and we didn't know where it was. And we didn't know how to tell the friend. And there was no way to get there in front of her. But she understood with signs and showed us where it was.

“The team that was going to take us to another place didn’t arrive. And we, because there were several of us stranded there, wondered if we were going to stay there forever. And then, well, we don’t know the geography. So we suffer. We wonder if we are going to die and we are sad because now who is going to take care of the cornfield and the animals. But then we think that there is no problem, because surely the Zapatista comrades will take care of us. But then they found us and rescued us, and that’s it.”

“We were organized, as if it weren’t. So it was very cold and dark, and the house of the friend from France had no electricity. In other words, it didn’t have city electricity, but it had its own light. It had its own light. So we turned on the lights in the house and, while some of us were preparing breakfast, others were trying to heat up water to bathe. And then a very loud alarm started to sound and we ran out because we thought the house was going to explode. We ran to find the friend, who is older and always smiling, and we told her about the tragedy. But she laughed a lot and then, with the translator, she explained to us that you can’t do everything at the same time. That each thing has its time. We laughed too. But first we were going to die of fright.”

“This comrade lives alone. She is not afraid. She does not live in the city. She preferred to live in the mountains. And there is her house, in the middle of the mountains. She is in an organization that fights against nuclear power plants. And there she has her comrades in the struggle. So she is alone, but not. She is also accompanied.”



“I can’t say the name of the comrade because I don’t know if it’s her civil name or her name in the struggle, so no. And yes, we have photos of her, but we can’t publish them because we have to ask her permission first, that is, if she gives her permission. And then we have to use the translator and send them to her house, but she doesn’t have a cell phone signal there. But she does tell the story. Suddenly her comrades read it and tell her when they see her.”

“She asked us to leave our mark like paint on some sacks. To remember us, she said. We wrote “Thank you. We carry you in our hearts.” And it is true, that companion left a mark on us with her heart. The truth is that we did find ourselves with the companion. So yes, we were lost, but no. Because we found ourselves with that companion.”



“No, maybe we are thinking about our husband or boyfriend. No, we don’t even remember. What we missed was the cornfield and the animals. But don’t publish that, because I told him that I did think about it a lot.”

-*-

I hate to say it, but it seems that vegetables are politics by other means.

Ok. Cheers and, as Lenin said, the pumpkin is the main enemy.

From the mountains of southeastern Mexico.



The Captain.
August 2024.