Beloved Mexican writer Laura Esquivel, of “Like Water for Chocolate” fame, described it as “a type of Macondo, a magical place that belongs to all of us, that enriches all of us, that represents all of us.”

Mexico’s first ecovillage has just turned 30, and celebrated with the release of a beautiful book of memories, “Huehuecoyotl: Raices al Viento” (Roots to the Wind)” and a festival that took the magical spirit of the place into the heart of the city.

Esquivel, as a collaborator and friend of Huehuecoyotl, was a contributor to the book and one of the presenters at the recent book launch celebration in Coyoacán. Her words capture my own feelings about the place, whose work and inhabitants have had an impact far beyond the green valley where they live.

“…Huehuecoyotl is more than an ecovillage,” she said. “It’s the certainty that not everything is bad, that not everyone is asleep, that not all the civilizing efforts have failed, nor that the ideal of community, common-unity, is a utopia. In Huehuecoyotl, utopia is real; it breathes, it sings, it eats, it kisses, it dances, it dreams.”

I share her wistfulness at not having been there as the vision unfolded. “But do you know what?” she countered. “Thinking about it more, I’m convinced that I was. I was in the temezcal, in the theatrical performances, in the rainy nights and the sunrises, at the births, at the funerals, at the sacred ceremonies, in the silences… in this time out of time where we dream that a world like this is possible… the tribe of Huehue is my tribe.”

Huehuecoyotl is more than a Macondo, it is a real community built with love and cradled in the mountains of Tepotzlán, about an hour and a half outside of Mexico City. And the stories of its inhabitants and visitors, chronicled by more than 40 collaborators, are the stories of the potent currents of change that have moved through this planet, alternately unperceived, misunderstood and repressed by the powers that be.

Huehuecoyotl is like the giant amate tree that stands at the heart of the community, whose seeds have been spread throughout the planet thanks to its inhabitants’ various cultural and educational adventures, beginning in the 1960s with the Hathi Babas in India and the Middle East, and tracing its way through the Americas in the epic Rainbow Peace Caravan, 1996-2009. Look for its current manifestation in the periodic international Consejo de Visiones, or Vision Council.

The writers are dreamers and doers, cultural, spiritual, artistic and ecological activists from Mexico and the United States, from Sweden and Italy and Spain, to name just a few of the nationalities of this global tribe. To page through this collection of essays and the colorful photography of Jan Svante Vanbart and others is to be swept along those currents through four decades of change. These are voices that will not be silenced, but will be raised time and again in song, lifting into the skies like the smoke of the sacred copal.

As Huehue cofounder, author, visionary and teacher “Coyote” Alberto Ruz Buenfil said, “Those who do not dare to live their dreams, or who for fear betray them, the only thing they achieve is to end their existence in the middle of a great nightmare.”

For those willing to take that dare, “Huehuecoyotl: Raices al Viento” is more than an inspiration; it’s a call to action.

Available (in Spanish only, at this time) through Alberto Ruz Buenfil, subcoyotealberto@yahoo.com.

Here are some images from the book launch celebration, April 20 at Casa de Cultura Reyes Heroles, and the Festival de Jade, April 21 in the nearby Plaza Coyocan, bringing the spirit of Huehue to the heart of Mexico City’s most authentic colonia.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

By Tracy L. Barnett
The Esperanza Project

It was a beautiful day for a hike – and a fascinating, if not always beautiful, route. The Fifth Annual Camina por Guadalajara, an event sponsored by the sustainable cities group Com:Plot, drew a lively and diverse crowd to Plaza Juarez on Avenida de la Independencia.

The idea of this walk – as with the previous ones organized by Com:Plot and a sister organization – Ciudad Para Todos, City for All – was to focus attention on a cross-section of the city, step by step and block by block. The entire day would be spent traversing this historic avenue, from the city’s historic center and beautiful plazas to the newly developing suburbs and beyond, to a spectacular surprise (for this reporter, at least) the very end. (These two groups were profiled in my 2010 visit to Guadalajara during the initial yearlong voyage through Latin America: Com:Plot conspires to take back a city and A city for all, not just for cars.)

Along the way, zigzagging back and forth into the neighborhoods that line this avenue, the group would observe and document the city’s historic treasures and glaring deficiencies – or, as the diplomatic Com:Plot leader Alfredo Hidalgo puts it, “opportunities” – sometimes just a few paces apart.

“The Calzada de la Independencia is a territories full of challenges, surprises and history, and it will surely give us an opportunity to reencounter the city,” said Alfredo in his welcome to about 100 people who had gathered to take part in the walk. “Here we will get to look at the city with an eye to the past but above all with a lot of optimism at the future.”

Alfredo, like many of those who joined the walk, is an architect and an advocate of progressive planning for a more inclusive, more sustainable and more walkable city. Guadalajara, despite its nearly 500 years of colonial history, is a metropolis that grew up with the automobile, like most U.S. cities, but with little long-range planning, and the modern metropolitan ills of congestion, pollution and deforestation plague an otherwise beautiful city.

A perfect example was the park to our immediate right, Parque Agua Azul. It’s a lovely, shady park alive with Tapatíos (Guadalajarans) enjoying a sunny Sunday – but the blue water the park was named for has diminished to a shadow of its former self. This entire area, almost as far as the eye could see, was an enormous lake, explained journalist and historian Guillermo Gomez, who narrated a fascinating section of the walk. During the Porfiriato – the time when Porfirio Diaz was president – elegant bathhouses lined the lake, and people would come and take the waters.

The advent of the automobile changed all of that, along with the rest of the city, Gomez said. The lake was gradually drained to build avenues like this one, and the river that fed Agua Azul was channelled under the street in an enormous storm drain. Now the once-grand Rio San Juan de Dios is long forgotten, just another carrier of the city’s sewage.

But not to dwell on unfortunate decisions of the past… the upbeat group headed off toward a lovely set of arches, past a florist shop and out into the sunny day, cameras at the ready to document the face of the Calzada, for better and for worse.

Soon we took a detour to the east into the nearly forgotten neighborhood of Analco. We hadn’t gone a block when the sidewalk disappeared.

“Where’s the sidewalk?” exclaimed an indignant Guillermo, pointing to a long stretch alongside the street where the foot traffic made its way along a long stretch of dirt and gravel. “It’s one thing to have a destroyed sidewalk, but quite another to have no sidewalk at all.”

The Analco neighborhood, Guillermo explained, had been a thriving hub of activity in its day, but had always been working-class. The more monied folk built their homes on the western side of the street, and to this day, a marked difference can be seen in the character of the neighborhoods. But Analco’s fate took a nosedive on April 22, 1992, the day a gas line exploded under the neighborhood, killing at least 300 people (according to the official count; unofficial reports put the number of dead closer to 2,000.

Jesus Arreola, a professor of urban planning at the University of Guadalajara, grew up in this neighborhood and remembers it as vibrant and full of life – a place where a young boy could easily go anywhere he needed to go on a bicycle. Now most of the young people have moved to the suburbs, leaving the elderly and marginal to inhabit the deteriorated infrastructure.

“We citizens need to convince the government to take on the necessary projects to bring life back to these barrios,” he said.

Abandoned lots filled with weeds and trash line the street near the corner where the explosion took place, twenty years after the fateful event.

Lots of opportunities here, he pointed out. A once beautiful art-deco building…

An abandoned corn-flour mill, where people would bring their corn for miles around…

A thriving local market, a bit dilapidated but still a historic gem…

And also home to the sweetest elotes in the city, according to Guillermo…

But also home to some serious problems.

Here we also passed by the once-glorious Coloseum Arena, the biggest and best of its day, where all the famous boxing and lucha libre giants of the ’30s and ’40s would fight for international glory.

Here, fortunately, it was time to head back to the Calzada – just a block back to the west. And what a difference a block or two or three can make! … as we were soon to see…

Monument to Mexican Independence

Site of the historic and formerly grand Alameda Theater, whose inaugural gala in 1942 was attended by the beloved Mexican Golden Age film stars Maria Felix and Cantinflas, it closed in 1980 and remained abandoned for 20 years, when it was demolished to make way for the shopping mall that is now home to McDonald’s and Cineplex.

Thankfully, the nearby Hospicio Cabañas enjoyed a much different fate. Built in 1791 as an orphanage and hospital, it continued to operate until 1980, when the Cabañas Institute took it over and restored it into a beautiful cultural center and home to some of the most spectacular murals of José Clemente Orozco.

Behind the hospicio could be found the likewise historic, vast and somewhat chaotic Mercado Libertad, more commonly known as the Mercado de San Juan de Dios, named for the neighborhood, which was named for the no longer extant river… here you can buy anything from traditional handmade candies and serapes and handcrafts to handguns and ammunition, Guillermo informs me – this latter comes as a surprise to me, because handguns are actually strictly regulated here in Mexico… or so I thought.

Here we were now in the famous Plaza de los Mariachis, also recently refurbished …

And then the beautiful Plaza Tapatía, one of a series of interlinked plazas lined with historic buildings and monuments that are the pride of historic Guadalajara.

We could have easily lingered in the historic center all day, watching the people, listening to music, exploring the iconic cathedral and museums and plazas filled with public art and tempting restaurants and cafes. But we were on a mission – the Calzada called – and we marched on.

Again, just a block or two away from the beautifully restored Calzada, a different face of the city was evident.

(Translation: Dear Virgin of Guadalupe, I am a sinner; send me the punishments that you want but please don’t send me another government by the PAN – the conservative National Action Party.)

But soon we were arriving at the recently restored Parque Morelos, considered by some historians to be the city’s oldest landmark. Still with its original kiosk and wrought-iron benches, the park is an oasis of green in a concrete jungle.

Now it was on to the historic Barrio Retiro, named for the fact that it was on the outskirts of the growing city at the time of its founding. The neighborhood became known for its thriving tannery industry and was home to the beautiful Templo de Nuestra Señora del Rosario…

… and for something completely different, a little architectural oddity, referred to by Norma, one of my walking companions, as “Guadalajara’s tiniest block.”

Soon I caught up with Patricio Alva from Ciudad Para Todos. He had taken along spray cans and stencils to draw attention to the most grievous errors in city planning that the walkers observed along the way – such as the lack of ramps for wheelchair users:

… spectacular holes in the sidewalk:

… and a wheelchair ramp so steep that to traverse it would mean an almost inevitable crash at the end:

Alfredo’s children quickly became Patricio’s alert assistants, spotting pedestrian affronts on every corner.

Another Cuidad Para Todos intervention was the widespread distribution of “wikimultas,” or citizen tickets left on the windshields of rude drivers who blocked pedestrian walkways or otherwise invaded the space of non-drivers.

In this case, a large swath of grassy green public park was fenced in and empty, while children played in a dirt-covered lot nearby.

“Why close up a park? Parks are meant to be open, and free…” lamented Jesus Arreola.

(Translation: FINED by vigilant citizens….We invite you to cooperate in the improvement, harmony and mobility of our city. Respecting each other we will achieve a city that is worthy of all of us.)

I also caught up with architecture students Andrea Cornejo and Juan Pablo Morett, who were on their first Caminata and loved the opportunity to see a much-traveled route from a different perspective.

“For one thing, you realize all the obstacles a differently abled person has to face,” said Andrea, “and you also realize that there are some areas that are very much taken care of by the government and others that are super deficient – but you also see beautiful parts of the city that are really beautiful that you never noticed before.

“I hope the government will realize there are many people who care about the city,” she added, “and that we are aware of the problems that exist, that it’s not enough to just put in a Macrobus to cover up the problem in one area.”

I also ran into Yeriel from GDL en Bici, another of the energetic and innovative groups that are pushing Guadalajara to be a better, more livable city – in this case, for bicyclists. On this particular walk, Yeriel was observing how the recently installed MacroBus – highly controversial before its installation, but heavily used now – has changed the dynamic of the avenue. The traffic flows much more smoothly now, he said. And there’s another big advantage, he added, only a little bit ironically. “We now have a huge super bike lane.”

As he spoke, a bicyclist pedaled swiftly down the Macrobus late – completely illegally – but also completely unimpeded by traffic, and probably much safer than he would have been in normal traffic. Yeriel says the cyclists usually hear or see the Macrobus coming and get out of the way but if not, the drivers will honk.

It was after 2 by the time we reached the stadium and the group broke for “lonches” – the tapatio word for sandwiches – and I made a break for the Plaza de Tecnologia, back in the center, where I had an errand to do. Sadly, thanks to traffic and parking issues, it was two hours later when I was finally able to catch up to the group. I missed the Guadalajara zoo, the beautiful colonial pueblo of Huentitan – now swallowed up by the metropolis but still filled with charm – and the only stretch of perfect sidewalk on the whole avenue, according to the ever-observant Karla Preciado of Ciudad Para Todos – in front of the Coca-Cola corporate headquarters.

I had grabbed the new Metro Bus, a highly efficient, clean and speedy bus line that traverses the length of the Calzada, and it whisked me past traffic and through the bustling neighborhoods of Independencia and Huentitan, then through an area that seemed under construction. Finally the bus stopped; it was the end of the line.

I was able to reconnect with the group just as they finished the walk – and this is where I was in for an amazing surprise.

Karla was waiting for me at the bus terminal and we entered a park called the Mirador, meaning lookout. Suddenly the trees opened and my jaw dropped. The vista at the end of the Calzada de Independencia is nothing short of spectacular. I shook my head and took another look. The grandeur of the Barranca de Huentitan, or Huentitan Canyon, spread out before me like a panoramic postcard.

And there, posed in front of the barranca in a perfect group shot, was our group of walkers – some 60 or so made it through the day to the very end.

For more information about Com:Plot, and to learn how they will follow up on this action, follow their blog at http://citacomplot.blogspot.com/

For more innovative actions from Ciudad Para Todos, or to download their wikimulta for your own use, see their blog at http://ciudadparatodos.org. They are also very active on Facebook.

To follow the wealth of activities sponsored by GDL en Bici and a plethora of other biking groups, go to their Facebook page and blog: http://gdlenbici.org/

And here’s another great GDL group I just learned about: Las Otras Caras de la Ciudad, The Other Faces of the City, on Facebook at Lasotrascaras Delaciudad.

Editor’s note: The following is a guest post by Ryan and Leticia, two kindred spirits making their way south and reporting on innovative, inspirational environmental initiatives. Follow their journey at www.comuntierra.org.

That’s the synchronicity of life. Camping outside a restaurant in a small town near the ruins of Calakmul, where we had stopped for a night to organize our way to Chiapas, we couldn’t decide whether to stay one more day or leave. Lacking clarity, we took a break to paint a little outside, when a huge white bus adorned with a huge Quetzalcoatl pulled up in front of the restaurant. It struck us as odd, because this small town had no other tourists around … But this wasn’t a tourist bus, it was the BioTu project!

We had heard of BioTu from several references during out travels in Mexico, a BioDiesel-powered bus led by young Mexicans who present educational workshops throughout the country.
As two mobile projects, we had never crossed paths, so we were pretty surprised to see them. Fernando, Domingo and Su (founders of the project), along with temporary group member Katie, are a group of young idealists like us who are working towards sustainability, and living in a bus. Needless to say, we share a lot in common with our new friends, who we immediately connected with.

Their bus is a remodel of the classic Mexican company ADO, who have loaned the bus to the project. BioTu now have it running on 100 percent BioDiesel made from used cooking oil (their fuel modification works so well that ADO is planning to change many of their touring buses to BioDiesel to save money and burn less gasoline). Quetzalcoatl, the bus, is both the groups home on the road, and stage for demonstration of various eco-techniques such as a dry toilet, on-board composting system, solar panels for energy, cultivation of several herbs and plants, and a beautiful bamboo decor.

Considering our previous indecision followed by this chance meeting, we decided to modify our plans and follow the directions of the universe. We drove down to Palenque where we left our home for several days, hopping on board with BioTu to participate in a few workshops and get to know this innovative project.

BioTu was inspired by a sister project in the U.S., BioTour, in which Fernando was a core member. For two years he traveled on a bus also run on BioDiesel, touring the United States. From this experience came the idea of implementing the project in Mexico, his homeland, focusing more on education and community participation.

Today BioTu travels the country giving demonstrations of eco-techniques and educational workshops with children, youth and adults, teaching different solutions in sustainable living.

Through collaboration with various foundations, they have a schedule of workshops throughout the country during a period of one year. We had the opportunity to participate in one of these events in Comalcalco, Tabasco.

That Saturday, we formed part of the team, leading activities for over 150 children in the community, helping to bring some more awareness, and a lot of fun, to their day.

We began the day with a movement workshop, featuring some yoga and capoeira practices, and a group Beatbox exercise, waking everyone up and getting energized for the day.

After that came a workshop on art and the environment, in which the children interpreted the four elements with watercolors, and learned about the importance of planetary balance.

The last workshop didactically explained recycling, and then led the children in mixing soil in a small pot and then planting seeds to start their own crops to be planted in their home.

After the event, the children visited the eco-bus, learning about their techniques, and how to care for the environment and live in better balance with the Earth.

It was nice to see the impact of these actions in children who looked curious and excited to see the bus and learn about these different visitors who live in a “green bus,” and of course to see how they treasured their seed bombs and pots, excited to take them home. Most important, of course, were the seeds of awareness that were planted through the experiences of the day.

After the event we continued living for a few days as the traveling community that we are, sharing resources and ideas, playing music, working together on our solar system, exchanging seeds, sharing knowledge and experiences about life as “caravaneros” … and of course looking back at the many curious eyes of the towns we visited!

Finally after a full week we went our ways, BioTu towards there next workshop and Común Tierra heading towards our next ecovillages and projects here in Chiapas. We carry with us even more inspiration and feel energized by this example of young brothers and sisters who, like us, living as nomads, are treading a path towards sustainability.
The road is ever more green!
Saludos – Común Tierra y BioTu

By Tracy L. Barnett
Translation by Yvonne Negrin

MIRANDO CITY, TEXAS – It was an unforgettable meeting of cultures: Lakota and Navajo, Chippewa and Cree, Coahuiltecan and Chichimecan and more, joining hearts and minds wth their Wixaritari brothers in a hogan in South Texas.

“Never in my life did I imagine that this moment would come,” said Efren Bautista Parra, a diminutive yet powerful marakame, or shaman, and the traditional governor of San Andrés Cohamiata, with tears in his eyes. “Just like the joy of this moment, our suffering brings us together in a bond of brotherhood.” Around the fire, cradled in the curve of a crescent moon, the language of spirit transcended words to merge all souls into one.

Efren was one of eight Wixarika leaders chosen by their communities in the highlands of Jalisco, Durango and Nayarit to travel from their communities to this town in Mirando City, Texas. They were there to attend the International Convention of the Native American Church, a union of Native American peoples of North America dedicated to preserving the right to traditional use of the sacred peyote plant, or medicine as it is known.

“Never did we imagine that there were others who, like us, use the sacred hikuri as we do in their ceremonies and prayers,” he said.

The Native American Church is comprised of various tribal peoples from the United States and Canada, who consider peyote a sacrament and use it in their prayers and ceremonies. Upon learning that a Canadian mining company, First Majestic Silver Corp., has acquired 22 concessions, granted by the Mexican government, to exploit minerals in the sacred land of Wirikuta, the birthplace of the Wixarika’s Father Sun and the ecosystem where the sacred plant grows, the Native American Church invited representatives of the Wixarika communities (also known as Huichol) to attend its convention on 11, 12 and 13 of February in Mirando City, Texas.

Some of them had been traveling for days to arrive in Guadalajara, where a race to acquire visas and passports culminated in a 15-hour overnight bus ride from Guadalajara. An hour of lines and paperwork at the border was followed by an hour of travel from Laredo to Mirando City in a rented van through the desert considered a sacred place for members of the Native American Church.

Unfazed by the lack of rest, the delegation arrived energized and eager to meet their northern counterparts. In the Mirando Community Center, festooned with hearts and balloons for the upcoming Valentine’s Day celebration, the delegation was welcomed with open arms by the Indian nations of the north, a greeting which was followed by an extensive and sincere dialogue.

“We are the keepers of the sacred land of Wirikuta,” said Felipe Serio Chino, secretary of the Wixárika Ceremonial Centers of Jalisco, Durango and Nayarit. “We conduct our pilgrimages there every year, as our ancestors entrusted us to do, so that life can continue to be reborn. It is inconceivable to us that from one moment to the next, a site this sacred can be destroyed. This Canadian company is very powerful, but we hope that perhaps with partnerships like this one we can win in the defense of Wirikuta.”

Santos De La Cruz Carrillo, an attorney and an appointed official from Bancos de San Hipólito, Durango, explained the process of the formation of the Wirikuta Defense Front of Tamatsima Wahaa.

“We know they are in violation of our rights. What they have planned is an attack on our culture. We want this to be known not only nationally but internationally,” he said.

“We are here to build bridges and join forces with the indigenous peoples of the North. We invite you to work with us and to integrate into the Front in any way you can to help defend what is sacred in life. Our prayers and ceremonies are to renew the candles of life, not just for the Wixárika people, but for the whole world.”

Sandor Iron Rope, a Lakota leader from South Dakota and Vice-President of the Native American Church of North America, was the first to answer.

“We understand the process of colonization on both sides of the border,”he said. “We can unite in the defense of our medicine. We are the legitimate guardians of this continent and we must create a struggle to continue spreading awareness among those who do not understand.”

Sandor shared a song he had written for Wirikuta in his native Lakota:

Several members of the Native American Church told of how the peyote had changed and even saved their lives, such as Lance Long, a member of the Ho-Chunk people of Wisconsin. Long told of how as a baby he was on the verge of death, and medical doctors could do nothing to help. Finally, his parents gave him his first peyote tea. “I am alive today thanks to medicine,” he said.

Members of the Coahuiltecan delegation of Texas reiterated their support as an indigenous sister nation bound by the long history of medicinal use of peyote by both indigenous groups. They expressed that the desecration of sacred sites must stop and that the defense of Wirikuta is the same as defending Our Mother Earth.

The two-day dialogue included a ceremony in which several saw visions of the Condor and the Eagle, symbols of North and South. Sandor Iron Rope expressed it as a vision from the beginning of time, in which the Eagle and the Condor flew together as in the beginning of the world.

Agreements were manifested in the Native American Church of North America signing of a letter by the Wixárika delegation, proposing a collaboration with the Church and a pledge of brotherhood and solidarity. The assembly of the Native American Church of North America unanimously voted to join the Wirikuta Defense Front.

José García, spiritual leader of the Coahuiltecan nation, sang during the ceremony in his native language and in a voice that resonated from another dimension. Later he explained that he had actually visited Wirikuta during the ceremony, and he shared the story behind the song.

“Several years ago I was commissioned to talk to the Wixaritari (Huichol) to tell them that our elders dreamed that something bad was happening in Wirikuta,” he recalled. “At that time I didn’t understand. Tonight I realized what it meant, as I visited this sacred place and spoke with Wirikuta during my song. ”

Armando Loizaga and Cristian Chávez contributed to this story.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

By John Schertow
Intercontinental Cry
Traducción por Project ISD

On December 19, 2010, Guatemalan President Alvaro Colom declared a State of Siege in the department of Alta Verapaz under the pretence of fighting drug traffickers.

Officials claim that, since Mexico increased its own “war on drugs”, the hardline organization known as “Los Zetas” has moved its operation from Mexico to Alta Verapaz which is located in north central Guatemala. Los Zetas are now allegedly in control of much of the region.

Since the siege began, notes Al Jazeera, “Police have arrested at least 22 ‘traffickers’ and confiscated five small planes, 239 assault weapons, 28 vehicles and explosives in a series of raids.” However, with the suspension of basic human rights in Alta Verapaz–and the extensive powers given to the police and military–drug traffickers aren’t the only ones being targeted.

According to Coordinadora Nacional Indigena Y Campesina (CONIC), the Q’eqchi Maya community of Se’ Job’ Che’–which has absolutely no connection to drug trafficking–was raided on January 10, 2011. The community fled the area when the soldiers arrived; and when they returned, their food crops and property had been destroyed.

Soldiers, police, and park rangers [INAB guardarecursos] approaching the farm lands of the Maya Q’eqchi community of Se’ Job’ Che’, municipality of Cobán, Alta Verapaz (Coordinadora Nacional Indigena Y Campesina)

CONIC states:

On Monday, January 10, 2011 at 10:00 am, 40 soldiers, 2 members of the National Civilian Police, and 20 park rangers [INAB guardarecursos] entered the area where the community tends their cardamom, corn, and bean crops. Without engaging in any dialogue, the military troops began shooting their weapons, and the campesinos had to run and hide away from the crop area. The military then began to destroy the community’s crops, cutting 300 cuerdas of cardamom [around 15 hectares], 300 cuerdas of beans, and 50 cuerdas of corn.

Crop destruction in the Q’eqchi Maya community of Se’ Job’ Che’ (Coordinadora Nacional Indigena Y Campesina)

Héctor Arnulfo Ruiz, who was present as a representative of the FONTIERRAS government land institution, assaulted and attempted to rape Mrs. Adelina Yaxcal as she was hiding among the cardamom crops, ripping her traditional güipil blouse in the process. Fermín Ayala, head of the National Forestry Institute (INAB) park rangers, attempted to bribe various community members, offering to spare their crops in exchange for Q50,000 [over $6,000].

The families were able to reunite in the afternoon, and then realized that during the raid they had lost 20 turkeys and 20 chickens, as well as other personal property such as work tools. By 5:00 pm that day rumors were circulating that the same actions were to be carried out in other Indigenous communities.

According to the Guatemala Solidarity Project (GSP), wealthy landowners and international corporations have also been taking advantage of the ongoing military offensive to do a little “land clearing” of their own.

On January 20, 2011, the community of Saquimo Setano was violently attacked by the family of wealthy landowners Benjamin Soto and his wife Maria Elena Garcia Ical. This family has violently attacked numerous unarmed peasants, burned houses with children inside, and attacked and threatened US citizens. Numerous complaints have been filed, but the only response by the authorities has been to threaten community leaders and US volunteers who are working with them.

Since the attack on January 20, GSP has been unable to reestablish communication with the community. GSP is now urging immediate action in solidarity with the Mayan community (see below).

Providing some background, GSP observes,

“The community has faced numerous attacks from wealthy landowners Benjamin Soto and his wife Maria Elena Garcia Ical, who are attempting to steal the community’s land. Between August 31 and September 2, 2010, the landowners led attacks against the community during which houses were burned down, death threats were made and dogs, horses and guns were used to terrorize families. The government has refused to arrest Soto and Elena Garcia for the attacks, and has instead moved forward with fraudulent charges against community leaders and GSP activists.”

Though details are scarce, GSP says that the indigenous community of Miralvalle was also attacked “by the private security force of a biodiesel company financed by the US government.”

The teenage daughter of a community leader was hit in the face with a machete during a recent attack on the Q’eqchi community Rio Cristalino. (Guatemala Solidarity Project)

Guatemalan Human Rights Leaders have been speaking out against the siege since it was declared On Dec. 19.

Indigenous Community Leaders have also been speaking out; however, so far their voices have been ignored.

While attacks against indigenous communities in Alta Verapaz have been going on for quite some time, the latest attacks by the police and military appear to be part of an effort to ‘change the region’s social fabric’.

Just prior to the Jan. 10 attack, Carlos Menocal, Guatemala’s Minister of the Interior, stated that U.S. officials would be travelling to the region along with Colombian Vice Minister of Defense, “to kick off the new phase” in Alta Verapaz. “According to Menocal, US officials will support a new ‘model police precinct’ in its efforts to ‘reconstruct the social fabric’”, notes a Jan. 9 statement by GSP.

Following this, on Jan. 20–the same day that the community of Saquimo Setano was attacked–President Colom announced that the siege would be extended for another month.

At this point, there’s no telling how long Alta Verapaz will be under martial law. And with media almost exclusively reporting on Los Zetas, there’s no telling how many more indigenous communities will be repressed – under the pretence of fighting drug traffickers.

What You Can Do
1. Email and/or fax the office of President Alvaro Colom and demand an end to the repression
Email: cartapresidente@scspr.gob.gt Fax: 502-2251-4144

It is very important to please also cc: goberaltaverapaz@gmail.com, esay@oj.gob.gt, solidaridadguatemala@yahoo.com, stuand_wckr@yahoo.com, fdaltaverapaz@mp.gob.gt, mpcoban@hotmail.com

2 Call or write members of Congress asking them to oppose the state of siege and denounce the continued government repression of the peasant movement in Alta Verapaz. If you send an email, please cc: us at solidaridadguatemala@yahoo.com so that we can follow up on their actions. Below is a sample letter

3. Send a financial contribution to communities facing eviction. Checks should be made out to “UPAVIM Community Development Foundation” and mailed to UPAVIM, c/o Laurie Levinger, 28 McKenna Rd, Norwich, VT 05055. Write the word “evictions” in the notes/memo of your check, and all funds will go to communities facing eviction. Or donate via paypal at http://upavim.pursuantgroup.net/english/donate.htm, you will see the paypal link, and you must include the words “GSP evictions” in a note to ensure the funding is delivered correctly. The GSP will take no percentage of such donations.

Sample letter:

I am very concerned about the immediate physical safety of peasant leaders who continue to be targeted by the police and military, including Pablo Sacrab Pop who was arrested on December 28, 2010, despite committing no crime. I am also very worried about human rights violations by the company Chabil Utzaj, which has received US government funds and has organized violent attacks against Q’eqchi families in Alta Verapaz. Please contact the US Embassy in Guatemala at your earliest convenience and ask them to intervene with the company to prevent them from continuing such attacks.

Sincerely,

It’s been a long, long journey since I launched the Esperanza Project a year ago, taking me as far south as Buenos Aires and full circle to the place that, Lord willing, will be my new home in Mexico. I found a casita for rent in the ecovillage Teopantli Kalpulli – the oldest ecovillage in Mexico and the subject of a story I recently wrote for Ecovillage News. I was charmed and impressed with the community when I wrote about it in January, and when my friend Levi told me about a house for rent there that cost less than my storage locker in Houston (truly!!!) I took it as a sign.

I’ve always thought that I would end up living in Mexico someday – not so soon, but finances are telling me, it’s almost time to renew my storage locker and after so much movement, I’m feeling the need to stop for a moment, plant some seeds, do some thinking and some writing, and build a solid base to launch my travels from. Teopantli seemed just the place.

My life has come full circle in a way this year. It was in Guadalajara that I connected with the group at Teopantli and also an indigenous rights group called AJAGI that works with the Huicholes. Here’s a story I wrote about them last February after a trip with them to Huichol territory in the mountains of Durango. Long story short, as I was looking for guidance on the direction of The Esperanza Project, I was drawn back to Guadalajara where I will be working on freelance and book projects for the first part of the year and also be accompanying AJAGI and the Huicholes as I document their struggle to save their most sacred site, Wirikuta, as I explain here.

So just a couple of weeks ago I landed in Missouri and with the help of my amazing father found a truck and a trailer to haul my things. Many twists and turns along that trail, beginning with a bad transmission in the first vehicle, but all is working its way out. My daughter Tara has agreed to accompany me on this journey, and Saturday we drove to Houston to unpack my storage locker, sort out what I wanted to take with me to Mexico, visit with friends – Mona Metzger of Houston Green Scene and Lise Olsen of the Houston Chronicle and head on to San Antonio, to spend the night at the home of Audrey Lee, the dear friend who has backed me up on this journey more than anyone, receiving my mail, dealing with my emergencies and serving as a sounding board and emotional support. Yesterday we did much a much needed shopping trip, and now we are preparing to make our crossing. We decided to splurge our last night in the USA and got a room at La Posada, recently named the No. 1 hotel in Texas by Expedia – and it’s easy to see why.

We ran into big headaches at the border (note to anyone who is thinking about taking a car to Mexico: Never, ever, ever leave the country without having your permit canceled. Sooner or later, the car must be returned and the permit canceled, or you will never again be allowed to bring another vehicle into the country – even if it’s sitting in a snowy field a thousand miles away. The quick fix was to have the truck and trailer title transfered into my daughter’s name. In the long run, my car must come back to the border – thank God I hadn’t sold it yet!)

We also ran into an ice storm in Saltillo, broken trailer lights, good cops and bad cops, and a rusty bumper that had to be welded back into place after hitting one too many “topes” (Mexican monster speed bumps). The whole story is here.

The second part of the year I will resume my travels with a special focus on indigenous struggles to save their land and cuture. Meanwhile, the battle to save Wirikuta is heating up, and there are many stories to be told.

I will be writing much more about all of this in the months ahead. Meanwhile I continue to pray for guidance and support as I chart my course and share the stories of those who are tending the fires hope from south of the border.

REAL DE CATORCE, San Luis Potosí, México – Rodolfo Cosio prays he’s not the last generation of a dying tradition.

As a jicarero, he is one of the keepers of the ancient pilgrimage of the Wixaritari or Huichol people of western Mexico. Each year he travels to the sacred sites of his ancestors in the five directions, offering up prayers and ceremonies that his people believe are essential to balancing the energies of an increasingly endangered planet.

Each year he explains to his children the importance of living a simple life, of maintaining the traditions, of fasting and pushing oneself far beyond the limits of comfort to keep the ceremonial fires burning as his ancestors have done for more than 1,000 years. He prays this won’t be the last year his people will receive the teachings of their sacred plant, hikuri, or peyote.

Just a few months ago, Cosio and other members of his community received the news that Wirikuta, the most important of their five pilgrimage sites in the state of San Luis Potosí, near the UNESCO-recognized site of Real de Catorce, has been concessioned to a Canadian mining company for a silver mine – despite the fact that the mining concessions lie within a federally protected cultural and natural preserve. The news was met at first with shock and disbelief.

“What they are talking about means the annihilation of our culture,” Cosio said. “It’s like a spiritual death for us.”

At the heart of Wirikuta is Leunar, or Cerro Quemado, the site where the sun rose for the first time, according to Huichol tradition. The region is home to several sacred springs, where their ancestors are buried and important ceremonies must be conducted each year. Here is the desert where they collect the sacred hikuri that they use for their prayers and ceremonies. And here will be the site of Mexico’s next resource battle, as the Wixaritari are not likely to let their ancient ceremonial site be mined without a struggle.

Santos Carillo de la Cruz, a Wixaritari leader, at Real de Catorce, Wirikuta.

The Wixarika communities published a call for support from the international community in September. Since that time, they appointed AJAGI, the Jalisco Association in Support of Indigenous People, to lead their legal defense, and AJAGI has joined with several organizations throughout Mexico to create a coalition called the Frente en Defensa de Wirikuta, or the Wirikuta Defense Front. AJAGI has supported the Wixarika communities for two decades in reclaiming their lands from illegal invasions and in a wide range of development projects.

Those organizations are now working together on the legal challenge and are organizing to raise awareness about this threat and to build an international campaign to support the Huicholes in their efforts to protect their sacred sites.

“In the face of these enormous challenges that humanity is confronting right now with environmental destruction, climate change and industrial contamination, we cannot let economic ambition carry us to the extreme of destroying sacred places of such great spiritual, cultural and environmental value, even disregarding laws and the most elemental of human rights,” said Carlos Chávez, founder of AJAGI. “We must support this cause, which is the cause of all humanity, because to do otherwise would bring us one step closer to the cancelation of our future.”

In this excellent video interview, recorded at the recent Call of the Eagle – Vision Council gathering by Leticia Rigatti and Ryan Luckey of the Común Tierra project, Huichol marakame (medicine man) Julio Parra shares his thoughts about the proposed mine in Wirikuta. For a version with English subtitles and blog entry, and to learn more about Común Tierra, check out their website here.

How you can help

There are several ways you can support the Huichol people in their struggle to protect their culture and their traditional pilgrimage site.

First, you can join the Wirikuta Defense Front by dropping a line to AJAGI1@prodigy.net.mx and asking to be added to the mailing list. If you want to receive information in English only, please specify. Also, please indicate if you have particular skills that you can share: translation, background in environmental sciences or other relevant skills, connections with organizations that might be able to write a letter in support or help in other ways. The group is in the process of translating Spanish-language materials into English; please let us know if you’d like to help. Meanwhile, the Spanish-language blog is SALVEMOS WIRIKUTA (Let’s Save Wirikuta) and there’s also a SALVEMOS WIRIKUTAFacebook page. Also, the Wixarika Resource Center has a Wirikuta page with frequent updates here.

Second, you can organize a letter-writing campaign among your friends and contacts to Mexican officials; personal letters sent through the mail are the most effective, but if you prefer, there is a website where you can just fill out a form and press “send.” Cultural Survival, an international organization dedicated to raising awareness about indigenous rights, has launched an international letter-writing campaign with a sample letter and addresses here, as well as an alert that lays out the issues in detail. Rainforest Rescue has another that goes to even more public officials. Please do both.

* Sign the petition.

Meanwhile, the Wirikuta Defense Front is working to bring international pressure on the Mexican government to shut down the mine before it starts. The group is working to raise the money to send a delegation of Huicholes to Canada to lobby against the proposed mine at the company’s Canadian headquarters, through its stockholders and through the Canadian government.

If you are interested in contributing to the Wirikuta Defense Front to help with this and other expenses related to stopping the mining operations in Wirikuta, please make a tax-deductible contribution to The Esperanza Project via the Paypal link on its website, with WIRIKUTA in the special instructions space, or through the AJAGI bank account in Mexico, c/o CARLOS CHÀVEZ REYES, at HSBC, Branch # 00701, Account #02132 00403 92525 721.

Most importantly, help spread the word – and join Rodolfo and his people in their prayers for a healthier, happier and more balanced planet for us all.

CANCUN – “Arriving at the ocean is very important; you can’t just walk up to it like it’s a common thing,” Antonio told us as we bumped along through the night on our way to Isla Blanca. “We consider the sea to be sacred; we come from the sea. We have to ask permission to be here.”

That’s how I found myself standing at the edge of the gleaming surf, saying a prayer of gratitude and tossing a chocolate cookie along with a 5-peso coin into the Caribbean along with my prayer. Antonio made an eloquent petition to the great spirits of the ocean and of the five directions sacred to the Wixarika people, asking for special attention during the climate summit proceedings – that everything go well for all of humanity, for those attending the COP-16 events, and for all the Earth.

The candle was offered to the sea as well, and a last gleaming spark scooted downwind along the edge of the surf: earth, wind, fire, water. There couldn’t have been a more perfect way to begin our mission, or the first visit to the Yucatan for all five of us.

Antonio Candelario had been chosen to represent the Huichol or Wixarika community of Santa Catarina at the COP 16 events, along with Rodolfo Cosio, a jicarero or carrier of the ancient pilgrimage tradition of his peoples. Jesus Lara, a leader in the neighboring Wixarika community of San Sebastian, had been chosen as well. The Wixarika delegation was rounded out by Tunari Chavez, a technical advisor with the Guadalajara-based Jalisco Association in Support of Indigenous Peoples, known by its Spanish acronym AJAGI, and me, a journalist who is accompanying the organization.

We were there, primarily, to get the word out about the Canadian silver mining operation that is poised to break ground in Wirikuta, the most sacred site of the Wixarika people, the place where, according to their tradition, the sun was born. This site is in some ways the center of their universe, the destination of an annual pilgrimage conducted for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, which culminates in a series of ceremonies convoking the ancestral spirits and balancing the energies of the entire planet. First Majestic Silver Corp. of Canada has been granted 22 mining concessions, for a total of 6,326 hectares, much of which lies in a federally protected ecological reserve and the UNESCO-recognized architectural treasure of Real de Catorce.

We arrived in Cancun on the evening of Dec. 3 and were met at the airport by Jack and Belem, a delightful young couple who opened their home and their hearts to us during our week in Cancun. After dinner we piled into the back of their ample van, which was to serve as our transport throughout the event, and headed to Isla Blanca, a natural preserve far removed from the towering hotels and touristic chaos of Cancun.

The next morning began bright and early with an interview at the Via Campesina camp, one of a number of sites with a full schedule of activities presenting a counterpoint to the official COP 16 summit. We began with an interview with Chilean journalist Paulina Acevedo, which quickly turned into a press conference with half a dozen journalists from Notimex to alternative media outlets attracted by the beautiful canvas we carried, designed with traditional Wixarika art, saying “NO a la Mineria en Wirikuta.”

From here we attended the opening ceremonies at the Via Campesina, a beautiful Mayan ceremony involving the lighting of candles in a giant mandala at the front of the stage, and an invocation the four directions.

Our delegation attracted attention wherever they went, and it wasn’t long before Elizabeth Press from Democracy Now stopped Jesus and Antonio for an interview.

“As indigenous people from Sierra, we are protectors of the environment,” Antonio said. “We are appealing to the world on behalf of life for all of humanity. But these people who know so much and have the latest technology don’t realize that they have broken the womb of Mother Earth through exploiting oil, mining, cement making, building highways, deforestation.”

The story and video can be found here.

This was followed by a meeting at the Radisson Hotel with the official delegates of the Congress of Indigenous Peoples for the COP 16, where the Wixarika delegation added their thoughts to the discussion of the official statement that this group was preparing to deliver at the official climate summit.

The day ended with two more interviews – first, with Emily Hunter of MTV-Canada, and second, with Maricarmen Wister of TV Cable.

Sunday began with another pair of interviews, this time in the very different hotel district of Cancun.

“We’re not in Mexico anymore – we’re in Miami,” marveled Rodolfo, looking out the back window at the skyscrapers receding into the background.

The first interview was with Isaias Perez from El Universal, followed by Adolfo Cordova Ortiz from Reforma. It was quite late by the time these interviews ended and the program was light so the compañeros accepted an invitation to see a cenote, a beautiful formation of clear water and stone characteristic of the region, before ending the day with a meeting at another site prepared for the climate event, Villa Climatica, where we were able to reserve a space for a presentation on Monday evening.

Meanwhile we learned that a rock concert would be occurring there later in the evening with none other than the famous classic rock group El Tri, and most of the party opted to attend. It was a grand event with thousands cheering their support for the Madre Tierra. Rodolfo and Antonio stood back and observed the spectacle, arms crossed, for the most part impassive – although Rodolfo occasionally picked up the infectious rhythm, the dangling chakiras of his traditional hat keeping time with the beat.

Monday morning we sought out another site, the Espacio Mexicano por Dialogo Climatico, where a series of events on Forests, Food Sovereignty and Indigenous Peoples was to occupy the day. We met with one of the organizers, Carlos Beas of MAIZ, who invited the delegation to have a representative on the panel. Rodolfo represented the group with a 10-minute presentation on the Wixarika people and the situation in Wirikuta, along with leaders such as Roly Escobar Ochoa of Guatemala, Sandy Gauntlett of New Zealand, and Ben Powless of the First Nations of Canada.

Afterwards we organized a meeting with Francisco “Chico” Mateo of the Departmental Assembly of Communities of Huehuetenango, who shared the story of the indigenous Maya communities’ resistance to the mining concessions granted by the Guatemalan government, and the experience of the neighboring department of San Marcos, which is the site of the highly destructive and controversial Marlin Mine owned by the Canadian transnational Goldcorp.

The delegation was interviewed by Robert Free Galvan and Brenda Norrell for an article which appeared in Censored News.

The day ended with an excellent presentation by the Wixarika delegation, in English and Spanish, with audiovisuals and traditional Wixarika music, at the Villa Climatica.

Tuesday was a day of mobilization in Cancun. More than 10,000 marched in different zones of the city for most of the day; we joined Via Campesina, where peasant farmers from Bolivia, Guatemala and Mexico joined their indigenous compatriots, waving flags of all colors and chanting slogans like “Zapata vive! La lucha sigue! (Zapata lives; the struggle continues),” and “Obama! The world is not a plaything!”

Rodolfo and Jesus paused to pose with a stilt-walker and a bus with a mural on the side featuring a mountain closely resembling Wirikuta’s Cerro Quemado.

The compañeros fielded multiple interviews throughout the march, including with Pacifica Radio, Telesur and the Yomiuri Shimbun from Japan.

Wednesday was the final day, with panels on the menace of mining throughout Latin America, at which Tunuari presented a short report of the situation in Wirikuta. Meanwhile, other anti-mining battles in El Salvador, Guatemala, Bolivia and Peru unfolded.

Tunuari next did an interview with Eugenio Bermejillo of the Latin American Network of Community Radio Stations.

The delegation escaped for a brief trip to the beach and a celebration of what may be the Wixarika delegation’s first and only trip to the Yucatan. Jesus and Rodolfo donned the snorkeling gear and went off in search of manta rays and sea urchins, while Antonio contented himself with paddling in the shallower waters.

The evening ended with yet another interview with Matilde Perez of La Jornada and a fandango of traditional jarocho music from Veracruz.

The farewell was bittersweet; our flight was scheduled the same day as Bolivian president Evo Morales’ speech at the Via Campesina, and the compañeros longed for just one more walk along the beach. But duty called, and amid goodbye hugs and photographs, we made our way home.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

One of Rodolfo’s presentations – other videos will be uploaded soon.

CHALMITA, Mexico State, Mexico – Long before the sun appears over the towering white cliffs all around us, this temporary village comes to life. The guardians of the ceremonial fire are stoking the flames for the temezcal; the kitchen crew is chopping and peeling and stirring; smoke is rising from the women’s tipi. Suddenly the resonant call of the conch rings out over the valley, calling us to the salutation of the sun, and the cry of an eagle pierces the air like a blessing.

We are gathered in this enchanted valley for the Call of the Eagle, the tenth intercontinental gathering of a group of dreamers and doers who are quietly changing the world from the inside out: the Consejo de Visiones – Guardianes de la Tierra (Vision Council – Guardians of the Earth).

Some 500 visitors from as far as Australia and as near as neighboring Chalmita – filmmakers and farmers, psychologists and shamans, artists and teachers, spiky-haired punks and lyrical poets – are learning to live together under the blue skies and bright stars of an itinerant ecovillage conceived more than a decade ago under the banner of the Rainbow Caravan for Peace and the Mexican Bioregional Movement. By the end of the week, this event will have touched the lives of more than 1,000.

This tenth gathering is a very special event for many reasons, chief among them that it is seen as the fulfillment of an Inca prophecy. When the Eagle and the Condor fly together, according to the prophecy, this will signal the dawn of a new era – the Eagle representing the North, and the Condor representing the South. Here in this sacred valley, lying in the shadow of an ancient pyramid amid the fertile Bosque de Agua, a high-energy group of visionaries, artists, and activists from North and South has come full circle.

Fourteen years ago, a now legendary group of them, led by among others Alberto Ruz Buenfil, otherwise known as the Subcoyote – cousin of Fidel Castro and son of the archaeologist who discovered Palenque’s fantastic hidden treasures – set off from this region for an epic journey that was to create the foundation for an intercontinental environmental, spiritual and social movement. After holding the first intercontinental congress of the Vision Council, they headed off in a bus painted like an ear of corn through the Zapatista territory of Chiapas, through the volcanic highlands of Central America and the tropical lowlands of Amazonia all the way to the tip of the continent in Patagonia. Using theater and the arts to plant seeds of hope, peace and sustainability in conflict zones, indigenous villages and crime-ridden barrios, they connected and nurtured social movements throughout the continent.

Their second international event, the Call of the Condor in 2002, brought some 1,300 activists and artists to the Sacred Valley of Machu Picchu in Peru to begin the work of consolidating a vision for a transition to a new age. The third, Call of the Hummingbird, was held in Brazil in 2005 and drew more than 1,500.

Now, after 13 years, that caravan has finally come back to its roots, and the seeds they planted here in Mexico and across the continent have come full bloom in an astounding event that is awakening even the most cynical and reserved among us. Tears flow freely in the circles of dance, in the darkness of the temezcal, in the embraces of long-lost friends who have only just met.

But this is far from a feel-good encounter group. In fact, it’s far from anything I’ve experienced. These folks are facing the future with their eyes wide open, painfully aware of the resource and climate crises that loom on the horizon. It’s also not a hand-wringing session. No one here is waiting for government to resolve these pending crises, although government leaders are here to participate in the forums, workshops and demonstrations in areas encompassing ecology, health, spirituality, appropriate technology, and education among many others. Local schoolchildren, too, are brought in to participate in panels teaching self-reliance; local youth participate in forums organizing political and social action preparing for turbulent times in a post-petroleum world. Gaia University is here, sharing a revolutionary model for participatory education, granting diplomas, bachelor’s and master’s degrees while its students are engaged in planetary transformation.

One team is building an oven from mud and bricks, while another is building a solar clock; another group is learning about native herbal healing techniques, while still another is raising the ceremonial tipi that will be the headquarters of a powerful women’s healing circle, and another is discussing strategies for protecting this valley, a strategic but highly vulnerable center for water conservation. Another initiative is gathering momentum to support the Huicholes in a struggle to save their most sacred site, Cerro Quemado in Real de Catorce or Wirikuta, from a transnational mining operation.

Sacred rituals from the world’s great traditions mingle with dance and creations of art and song to raise the energy throughout the week to a level I never thought possible. Activities run from sunup to 3 a.m., but sleep seems superfluous.

The culmination of the event comes after an all-night vigil to greet the dawn; a spectacularly feathered and painted group of Aztec dancers await us around a blazing fire, and a mandala of dance and rhythm and song erupts.

As I sit down to try and put this phenomenon to words, I recall those of Coyote Alberto as we stood together on the last day.

“It’s all so perfect,” I told him. “My only regret is that it’s just impossible to put into words.”

He laughed knowingly – the author of several books about the caravan and its Rainbow Warriors, and now involved in a project to bring the lessons of the caravan home in Mexico City, he has struggled with this problem daily.

“Nobody believes you when you try to explain it,” he said. “They say, ‘You’re just writing what you want it to be.’ There’s no way to explain – you just have to live it.”

Never has a human being lived his words more authentically, more powerfully, more beautifully than the man at the heart of this vision turned reality. I can do no better than to end with some of those words, which Alberto shared with us during the closing ceremony.

“Two hundred years ago these lands were the scene of bloody battles; much blood was shed among our grandfathers and grandmothers to make a step forward in the process of evolution, of growth, toward our liberty as individuals, as a people, and as a nation…. A hundred years ago, again in these lands, much blood was spilled once again among our people, with the same goal, to be able to walk with a bit more liberty, a bit more strength.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

MEXICO CITY, Mexico – Thanksgiving day – I awoke this morning far from home and family but filled with a profound sense of gratitude.

Grateful for the sun that was just beginning to brighten the sky outside my window; grateful for the dear friends who have given me a home in this city of cities. Grateful for the health and the support of my family, who continue to love me faithfully despite my wandering ways.

Most of all on this day, I’m grateful for the path I’ve been given this year, a path that has led me from inspiration to inspiration as I traveled from Mexico to Argentina, seeking to learn from those who are each changing our world in their own way.

I began the year with grave doubts about the future of humanity, indeed, the future of all life on this planet. Peak oil, climate change, food insecurity, financial crises, water crises – ominous reports were being released from leading scientists around the world, saying we have passed the point of no return. We have not managed our inheritance well, and turbulent times loom – of this we can be sure.

I also harbored fears and doubts about my own future as a professional journalist who dedicated most of my professional life to an industry that is now shedding journalists like a maple tree in an autumn windstorm.

So I set off for the South on a search for inspiration in this troubled world, among the people who have always given me hope – Latin Americans, an astoundingly diverse collection of peoples who have for centuries cultivated the flame of joy amid the crises, a civilization born from crisis. I founded The Esperanza Project to document the stories of some of these people, and I began working on a book, “Looking for Esperanza.”

I found that inspiration, at countless kitchen tables and gardens and streets from Mexico City to Iguazú, from Guatemala’s Mayan highlands to El Salvador’s tropical forests, from Paraguay’s campesino movement to the artists and permaculturists of Colombia. Everywhere I went, I found people embracing the coming transition of our world with hope and joy.

I began my journey in January, and came full circle last week, with a powerful network of dreamers and doers who form the Vision Council – Guardians of the Earth. I will share more about this amazing network in my next piece. Among this network were representatives of the Huichol people, an indigenous group that is struggling to save its sacred lands from countless invasions large and small and now from a transnational mining corporation, and I will be writing a great deal about this, as well.

Somewhere along the thousands of dusty, sweaty miles I traveled, watching the landscape unfold through the windows of buses and semi-trucks and airplanes and from the backs of pickup trucks and oxcarts and motorcycles, a wider vision of me began to emerge, as well. Every departure became more difficult; I wept as Colombia’s lush green mountains receded into the distance, feeling the bonds I had made tightening around my heart. What was this force that kept pushing me forward? When would it be my time and place to plant my own roots, my own seeds? Where would be the soil that I would cultivate? Where would be the family whose future I would share?

Always the answer came back the same. You are a child of the cosmos. Your home is this planet. The seeds you plant are in the human consciousness, and they will bear fruit for all. Your family is everywhere… just look around you.

Yes, yes, I answered impatiently. But I want those seeds to make a difference. Like those whose stories I tell, I want my own work to matter. I want to be a midwife of hope in these transition times, a light along the way to that transcendent new world we are all dreaming of.

In those green mountains of Colombia, in an ancient ceremony conducted by Amazonian shamans, I surrendered my consciousness to the Pachamama, to the earthly manifestation of God himself. Allow me to be an instrument of thy will, I pleaded. Show me my path. Thy will, not mine, O Lord.

There in the darkness, surrounded by the chants and drums of the shamans, I saw my path. It was green and lined with trees. A soft breeze was blowing. Not a car, not a building, not a person to be seen.

Solitude. Silence. Spirit-filled reflection in the inherent wisdom of the Mother.

Three things that had eluded me in the constant movement of my journey. Three things that I will be seeking now.

During the three-day ceremony I visited at length with the tribal leaders of the Cofan people, learning of their struggles in the Amazon to reclaim and protect their lands from the invasions of cattle ranchers, oil companies, developers and all manner of threats. Struggles that echoed those of the Huicholes of the Mexican Sierra Occidental, who had left their magical mark on me at the beginning of my journey. Struggles that called to mind those of the Mayan peoples of Guatemala, risking and sometimes losing their lives in confrontations with the mining companies.

I have watched over the year as these struggles have continued to emerge and intensify: the Belo Monte Dam in Brazil, mountain-removal mining projects in Peru, massive agroindustrial plantations in Paraguay. As the free trade agreements signed over the past decade break down the barriers to transnational exploitation in the remotest corners, the native peoples who have guarded their lands for millennia are being called to sacrifice their lives in a last stand for their peoples and the Mother Earth.

All of these struggles unfolded before my eyes, the beautiful soulful faces of their protagonists burning their way into my consciousness. It was then that I knew that the next part of my journey would somehow, some way, be at their sides.

“The Madre is furious with us,” Maracame Julio Parra, a Huichol shaman, shared with me on our last night together. “We are not practicing the rituals of protection in the sacred sites as she has guided us for thousands of years. We must go back and make our peace with her.”

Peace with the Mother. Peace for the Guardians of the Earth. Peace for us all.