The eight-hour cattle truck ride through poverty-stricken southeastMexico left fifty-seven volunteers, seven from Canada, nauseous, tired and frustratedby the time they reached Guadalupe Tepeyac — a Zapatista community high inthemountains of Chiapas state.

However, on that warm Friday on July 27, 2001, the volunteer’s situation seemedslightwhen compared to that of the people of Guadalupe Tepeyac. Their town wasdestroyed by the Mexican army in 1995 and they have been refugees,strugglingfor survival, ever since.

The reason for the army’s campaign of destruction was, ironically,thesame one that feulled the volunteer’s desire to help — the Zapatistas. On NewYear’sDay, 1994, the Zapatista National Liberation Army — with 2,000 poorly armedindigenouspeasants — took over a quarter of Chiapas, beginning what The New York Timescalled, “The first post-modern Latin American revolution.”

“I wanted to learn more about the Zapatistas and their struggleforland, democracy, history and freedom from foreign exploitation.” said PaulEarle, a dreadlocked volunteer with Canadian-based Students Taking ActioninChiapas (STAC) and a third-year student at Trent University. “A lot ofWesternactivists talk about the problems in the South, caused by neo-liberaleconomics. I wanted to see the front for myself and get my hands dirty withpeople who are struggling every day.” said Earle.

A Little Bit of History

The Zapatistas were instrumental in kick-starting the new global movementagainst neo-liberalism. Before 1994, conditions in rural Chiapas weredeplorable; one in four children died before the age of five, and most houses lackedelectricity or running water (in an oil-rich state that produces 60 per centofMexico City’s hydroelectric power).

However, theZapatistas chose January 1, New Year’s Day, for their revolution. Itcoincided withtheday the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) came into effect. Thetri-lateral trade agreement forced the removal of Article 27 from theMexican constitution, a clause that guarantees land to those who worked it.The Zapatistascalled NAFTA a “death sentence.”

Back to July

For the beginning of the volunteer program, Canadian volunteers met up with volunteers from Mexico and the U.S., mostlyyoung activists, and teachers, in Mexico City’s main square. Together, theyboarded a tourist bus and drove twenty-four hours, along winding mountain roads, pastsmall stores and huge ads, into Zapatista Chiapas to work and meet withrevolutionary organizers.

“All of us must join and share in our struggle.” said Amos, thesuperintendent of autonomous schools for Zapatista- Chiapas. “It’s astrugglefor conscience; to take from the injustices and make a new kind ofeducationtaken from our struggles and suffering,” he said.

The Zapatistas arecreating acurriculum that teaches indigenous history, language, tradition andresistance. In time they want to open their schools up to the internationalcommunity, so anyone can get an education from the perspective of theoppressedrather than the oppressor.

After four days of meeting with the community, bathing in waterfalls,talking politics and dancing with our indigenous hosts, the volunteerspackedtheir bags and boarded three cattle trucks (eighteen people and all their luggagecrammed on each one) heading for Guadalupe Tepeyac. Halfway through thebumpydrive, the trucks pulled to the side of the road. Mexican soldiers withmachine guns boarded the vehicles, demanding passports. The army is alwaysless thanfriendly toward volunteers helping the Zapatistas.

Fortunately, they didn’t want to raise an international incidentby hurting us, so they had little choice but to let us pass. “I was alittlenervous when they started yelling in Spanish,” said Corbett Hancey, avolunteer from Halifax . “But what I experienced was the mild side of theharassment people in these mountains face every day.” Massacres of entirecommunities are not unheard of in Chiapas. In December of 1997,paramilitarieskilled forty-five unarmed children, women and men in Acteal as they left church.

The sun was setting when the trucks reached Guadalupe Tepeyac. Agroupof the village leaders greeted the weary volunteers with applause. “Weunderstand the sacrifices you made to come here. Thank you,” said Aron. He a community leader sporting a soccer shirt and severalsilver teeth. “The army destroyed all of our houses, so we don’t have muchtooffer you,” he said apologetically.

The volunteers looked at him in awe. “How can he be apologizing to us for enduring these conditions for two weeks?” remarked Marina, a Trent student. “I wonder how he and his family have managed six years of fearing fortheirlives as refugees?”

Volunteer Duties

“We worked, carrying big loads of rubble, cleaning buildings and using tenfoot poles to knock broken tiles off of roofs.” So said Rob Parker, a studentatSaint Mary’s university in Halifax. “When people told me not to work toohard,I’d just look down at my t-shirt (with Ché Guevara’s picture) and go grabanother load.”

Most volunteers agreed, helping fix the town was the mostsatisfying part of the trip. The reconstruction will continue long afterthevolunteers go home; we donated 40,000 pesos — enough for the local people tobuild three schools.

When work finished for the day, volunteers passed the time drinkingcoffee, smoking harsh filterless cigarettes and discussing the future of theanti-globalization movement.

We also practiced organizing collectively tomirror the Zapatistas — a skill which took us a few days to master. TheZapatistas govern themselves by grassroots democracy. Every person over twelvecanvote on issues concerning her or his autonomous community in a formatsimilarto a protest spokescouncil. In some communities, land is owned collectively,in others, families control their own small farms.

The Townspeople

“I couldn’t believe how kind the people were,” said Paul Earle. “Three women were up at five every morning making our tortillas. Once, I wascoming back from a swim when an indigenous woman carrying her baby came out ofherhouse with piping hot corn on the cob. I couldn’t talk to her very well,because of the language barrier, but I thanked her and she smiled.”

Most of the people in Guadolupe Teyepac are still refugees, so we walked six hours to meet them where they were staying in La Realidad. They answered our questions and gave speeches while donning masks, a Zapatista traditionthatillustrates the facelessness of the indigenous poor and, more importantly,protects “agitators” from state harassment.

“The government won’t recognizeourautonomous schools,” said one student who didn’t give his name. “We need ourown schools to teach our language (Tzotzil — an indigenous dialect) andculture.”

Celebration

After the question session and photo-op, La Realidad burst into amultinational dance party. The students and teachers broke out a marimba (ahuge drum-like instrument played by more than ten musicians) and we rockedthenight away. Two worlds met that night and had a good timetogether.

The local people left around eleven that night — they had to walk three hours, with all the drums, to getback to their makeshift shelters.

At midnight, the cattle trucks arrived to pick us up.

Before hauling myself on to the truck, I remembered something Paul Earle had saidina speech a few days earlier: “The Zapatistas are an inspiration to all ofus.People in every country, of every nationality fighting for freedom can looktothis small corner of the world as an example. The Zapatistas are winningwhatwe are all fighting for. They did it with no education, no money and nohelp.Only hope. If they did this against all odds, than why the hell can’t we?”