environment Archive

Guadalajara by foot: Trek reveals many faces of historic avenue

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: February 21, 2012Posted in: Biking, Ciudad Para Todos, Com:Plot, Environmental education, Featured, GDL en Bici, Guadalajara, Transportation, Urban green space, WhyTags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Guadalajara by foot: Trek reveals many faces of historic avenue

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.

Videos: Historic mass ceremony on Cerro Quemado

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: February 14, 2012Posted in: WhyTags: , , , , , , , , ,
Videos: Historic mass ceremony on Cerro Quemado

REAL DE CATORCE, Mexico – A beautiful glimpse at the historic ceremony on Cerro Quemado, Wirikuta, the night of Feb. 6-7, 2012, by Omananda:

And another, by the Wirikuta Defense Front:

Message from the gods: Unite to defend the Birthplace of the Sun

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: February 8, 2012Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Message from the gods: Unite to defend the Birthplace of the Sun

Story and photos by Tracy L. Barnett

REAL DE CATORCE, Mexico – They came by the hundreds from the Western Sierra Madre, native Wixarika or Huichol people on a spiritual quest, seeking to consult with the spirits of their ancestors and of the land where their world began. They came in their ceremonial dress, colorfully embroidered with their sacred symbols of the deer, the eagle and the peyote. They came with offerings they had fashioned from beads and gourds and beeswax, offerings they had made precious with their love and their prayers, as their forebears had done for centuries.

This year, however, would be vastly different from years past. This year, the sacred lands of Wirikuta lay under the shadow of an uncertain future. Vast swaths of the protected, UNESCO-recognized reserve had been concessioned to Canadian mining companies, and hundreds of hectares had been bulldozed by agroindustrial companies. This year they were responding to a call that ran through all their communities, spread out through the Sierra Madre over four states: The candles of life were dying, and they would come together there to pray for their renewal.

What was different about this ceremony – besides the context of the proposed mines – was that they would converge at the Cerro Quemado, the mountain said to be the birthplace of the sun, and perform the ceremony together, instead of coming in small groups throughout the year. Normally, each of their ceremonial centers would send its own mara’akame or shaman and delegates separately, performing a series of intimate rituals in sacred sites all along the way, each group in its own traditional way. The other difference is that we would – perhaps – be allowed to attend.

The Huichols are one of the most vital cultural groups remaining in the Americas, in part because their intricate and carefully guarded rituals, designed centuries ago in order to maintain a living and reciprocal relationship with nature, are only rarely opened to outsiders – or even to Huichols from other communities.

That is how it came to be that the night of Feb. 6, the Cerro Quemado came alive with the songs of more than 800 Wixarika mara’akate or shamans and their followers, connecting with the essences of life found here and praying to their deities in an unprecedented peritaje espiritual or spiritual consultation for guidance. And that is why, for the first time, dozens of teiwaris or non-Huichol dignitaries, activists and members of the media were sent special invitations to attend the event.

The idea was that we would wait at the foot of the mountain and be accompanied by a Huichol shaman in a special ceremony throughout the night as the elders on the peak communicated with their ancestors, their deities and the “essences of life” and awaited a response to their question: What should we do about the threats to Wirikuta?

It might happen that we would be invited up to the peak during the night to join the ceremony. Or it might happen that we would wait until the sunrise, when the mara’akate (mara’akames) would come down to share with us the message they had received.

It was nearly sundown when I started up the mountain on horseback, along with Wirikuta Defense Front leader Carlos Chavez and his family. All along the way we passed small groups of Huichol pilgrims, making the two-mile hike up into the mountains on foot, laden with food and other supplies for the night ahead. We arrived at the casita, a round stone house at the base of the Cerro Quemado, just as the sun was going down. A phalanx of videographers lined the top of the first peak, shooting the pilgrims and visitors as they made their way up, and people were building fires, setting up tents and settling in for the night.

I waited anxiously with other journalists and invited guests, shivering in the below-freezing temperatures, to see whether we would actually be allowed to attend the ceremony. The other concern was whether the predicted rain would come during the night, something we teiwaris weren’t sure we could endure.

For the moment, we watched as the fog arose over the desert below, creating a sea of white that extended for miles across the valley, and made conversation. The word came down to us that the elders were facing a tremendous task in coordinating their ceremony with each other and that they would need space and time to connect with their deities. We were being asked to stay below.

Disappointment ran through the crowd like a current, but the night was long, and many surprises awaited.

At about 10 pm the message came down that the media and invited guests would be allowed to come up for a limited time, but that we were to stay silent and not take any photographs. We lined up in single file and made our way up the mountain one-by-one in silence.

I emerged at the top to see the ridgetop sparkling with campfires all along its spine. A brilliant full moon shone over the sea of clouds below. At the center, in the concentric circle of stones called Tatewari-ta, the place of Grandfather Fire, about a dozen mara’akate milled about. Most wore their broad-brimmed hats covered in eagle feathers, antenna that capture and amplify the messages sent from their deities. Others were wrapped in blankets to shield them from the bitter cold. All wore their thin cotton ceremonial clothing, slim protection from the rising winds. Many had been walking in pilgrimage for days, going without sleep and very little food, and had been caught in an icy downpour in the late afternoon – a much-needed rainstorm in this drought-afflicted desert that many here believe that their ceremonies had invoked.

I huddled with anthropologists Paul Liffman and Johannes Neurath, shivering in our multiple layers of sweaters, coats, gloves and socks, and marveling at the energy and the nonchalance of the lightly clad Huichols. Soon the mara’akate assembled and the plaintive wail of the Wixarika fiddles began to ring out in the darkness. The chants of the mara’akate rose on the wind; the ceremony had begun.

All throughout the long night these priests of ecology, as Liffman called them, sang their entreaties to the spirits that inhabit this place, an improvisation of melodies from different villages and different eras in time. They conducted their ancestral dialog with Grandfather Fire, an intermediary between the mara’akate and their deities. The sacramental peyote they had hunted in the desert the day before was working its magic. The hours passed in a blur and I huddled exhausted near a fire on the ridge, dozing for a few moments before I felt a shift in the wind. I sensed something was happening and returned to the fire to find a change in the energy.

The mara’akate had risen to their feet and began to dance, a rhythmic and upbeat shuffle of the feet, a forward-and-back movement that warmed the body and the soul. Soon the whole crowd was moving in unison, Huichols at the center, visitors on the edge. The cold began to dissipate and the joyful rhythm beat back the fatigue.

Surprised at the upbeat mood given the gravity of the situation, I commented on the apparent levity to Johannes Neurath. “Of course,” responded Neurath, who has observed numerous such ceremonies over the years. “If you want the gods to come to your ceremony, you have to make it interesting. They’re not going to come to a boring ceremony.”

At the appointed time, a calf that had been waiting on the sidelines was brought to the center and the mara’akate prayed over him, asking him to surrender his spirit for the wellbeing of humankind. The sacrifice was quick and as gentle as a sacrifice can be. The poor beast bleated softly once, twice, and kicked its small legs a couple of times before giving up the ghost. Soon its blood was being offered along with heartfelt prayers to the five directions.

More dancing, more singing. A sense of timelessness enveloped us. I went up the ridge to the fire being tended by a group of visitors from the Native American Church and a Mexican counterpart called the Nierika Center. Sandor Iron Rope, vice president of the Native American Church and a Lakota from South Dakota who said he had come to pray with his Wixarika brothers, gave me a warm smile for such a cold night. “Try not to shiver,” he advised. “It only makes it worse. Just try to breathe it in.” I followed his advice, and it seemed to help.

Sandor looked out over the sea of clouds and the yucca trees that stood out like surreal feathered sentinels on the horizon.

“They look like the Wixarika people with their feathered hats,” he observed. “They are guardians of this place.” I suddenly realized it was true; I had had the sensation of being surrounded by gentle spirits, and now I understood the reason why.

“I wonder how the deities are feeling about all of this,” I mused, looking around at the varied collection of humanity strewn over the mountaintop – celebrities, anthropologists, journalists, spiritual seekers, documentarians, and a wide range of activists, observing the intensely private ritual of a reclusive people communicating with their gods.

“Oh, I think they’re very happy,” said Armando Loizaga, founder of the Nierika Center, a center for the study of sacred plants near Mexico City who has worked with the Huichols and other indigenous groups for many years.

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“Well, for one thing, there was the gentleness of the sacrifice – that was a good sign. For another, we’ve been blessed with a clear night full of stars. And for another, here we all are. We were allowed to be here, and that’s a tremendous gift.”

By now the ridge was strewn with the bodies of the unconscious, Wixarika and teiwari alike, who had succumbed to the temptation of sleep. But hundreds continued to dance to the mesmerizing chants of the mara’akate, and the moon continued its slow descent.



Finally the sun began to brighten the eastern sky, and we were given permission to photograph a few moments of the ceremony. A frenzy of photographers converged on the ring of stones and clicked madly until an irate mara’akame shooed us away and ordered the cameras to cease. Eventually a procession began to make its way up the south ridge to the xiriki, a small house-like shrine on the summit, where they centered their prayers once again and made their offerings.



It was mid-morning before the mara’akate and traditional leaders of the communities met in the center to discuss, in their native Wixarika tongue, the meaning of the message they had been given. And it was nearly noon before they assembled there on the circle of Tateiwari-Ta to share their vision with the world.

“They are sad, and they ask, with tears, weeping and pain, that it not be done, that they not tear out the heart, that they not take out the blood of this sacred mountain,” said Mara’akame Eusebio de la Cruz of Santa Catarina, Jalisco, who delivered the message from the deities in Wixarika.

Perhaps more importantly, he said, the gods had entreated them at every ceremony along the way on their pilgrimage, and the same message kept coming back to them. “They asked that all the Wixarika people be united to defend this place, And they asked that all humban beings, even the person who invades or destroys this sacred place, be united with us.”

It was a strong message for a people that has been bitterly divided for more than two decades, with territorial and other disputes breeding rancor between the communities. It was also an indication, along with the decision to permit us to join them on the night of this ritual, of a new openness on the part of the Wixarika people to the outside world.

The ceremony was a trial by fire for the Wixarika leaders as well as for the Wirikuta Defense Front, the network of groups that are supporting them, said Eduardo Guzman, a judge in the desert community of Margaritas and a leader in the movement.

“Finally the word came with the coming of the dawn: They had passed the test and ended with a great unity, a great coinciding of ideas,” he said. “It gives us hope that together we can form a much stronger force to impede the destructive and damaging projects that threaten Wirikuta. I leave with a great happiness and a great sense of hope that it’s something that can be done.”

Paul Liffman stopped by to share his impressions on his way out of town. For him, the event has a broader significance, not just for the people of rural Mexico, but for the world.

“The Huichols are positioned as priests of the rain who benefit the entire world – and that’s why the mine represents such a great threat, because they are trying to be a type of ecological priesthood and everything is at stake. The fact is that we live in an epoch of planetary desiccation due to climate change, and the respect for water that is completely implicit in this ritualization of the acquisition of water of a mountain teaches us to have a relationship of respect and honor of the natural elements, which they treat as divinities. The springs are the earthly corporalization of the ancestors.

Everyone here, including those who are in favor of the mines, believes that the Huicholes bring the rain. And now it hasn’t rained in 14 months and suddenly it rains with the arrival of an unprecedented bunch of leaders of the ceremonial centers. They’ve always made the argument they are an essential link for the ecological reproduction not only of the region, but for the world.”

The sun shone on his departure and that of the hundreds of pilgrims and their guests. As I write this piece, the night has fallen on Real de Catorce and the town is silent once again – except for the gentle patter of a steady rain.

For more information about the defense of Wirikuta, see www.wirikutadefensefront.org. For the full Wixarika statement released to the public at the time of the ceremony, click here.


Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Stars come out for Wirikuta

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: February 6, 2012Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Stars come out for Wirikuta

2012-02-08-WirrasinReal.jpg
Wixarika pilgrims in their traditional dress began arriving in this town yesterday in preparation for a historic “spiritual consultation” with their deities.

This story is the second in a series about the historic pilgrimage of the Wixarika people to their sacred site of Wirikuta. Read the first part here. A report on tonight’s ceremony, a consultation with the Wixarika ancestral spirits about the crisis facing the birthplace of the sun, will follow.

REAL DE CATORCE, San Luis Potosí, Mexico – Some 800 Wixarika people – 18 busloads – are gathering in the desert below are expected to descend on this tiny town within an hour and will begin the trek up the sacred mountain of Cerro Quemado, the place where they believe the sun was born. Thunder is sounding in the distance, a little intimidating for a group of open-air campers given the polar front that is expected to descend tonight. Nonetheless, the local people are greeting the rains with joy, since the last hard rain was more than a year ago – and then it was the disastrous flooding of Hurricane Alex. This time, they hope for a ground-drenching, drought-quenching downpour. And everyone around here knows the Huichols bring the rain.

Meanwhile a star-studded lineup of high-power celebrities, academics, documentarians and media notables have been arriving in this rugged colonial mountain town since yesterday. Today, Mexican actress Ofelia Medina added her name to the list of registrants, along with writer Elena Poniatowska, Ruben Albarran of Cafe Tacuba, the UN High Commissioner of Human Rights and Sandor Iron Rope, vice president of the Native American Church.

2012-02-08-Estrellas2.jpg
Hector Guerra of Pachamama Crew, Moyenei and Roco of Sonidero Mestizo and Lengua Alerta were among the lineup supporting Wirikuta in Real de Catorce.

And last night, a lineup of popular artists from Mexico City, part of a team that has been supporting the defense of Wirikuta with periodic concerts and events, culminated a high-voltage performance in the historic restored Paz y Amor bar and restaurant with a rousing cry that was part chant, part prayer. ““Wirikuta no se vende, se ama y se defende! (Wirikuta is not to sell, it is to love and protect!”) Pachamama warriors, amor para mi gente (love for my people!)

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Café Tacuba’s Ruben Albarran poses with a group of caballerangos, horsemen who make their living taking tourists up into the mountains.

Ruben Albarran of Café Tacuba, one of Mexico’s most popular rock bands, went on the local community radio station to reassure residents of the town that they were not here to protest the mine or to impede development. “On the contrary, we’re here to support the community. Our idea is to raise funds to support development projects here in the region that will provide jobs for the people without harming the environment.”

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Armando Loizaga of the Nierika Center and Sandor Iron Rope, vice-president of the Native American Church

Leaders of the Native American Church, the Council of Chiefs of the Sun Dance and other indigenous leaders from the United States and Canada gathered with Wixarika leaders today in preparation for tonight’s historic ceremony.

“Our brothers have asked us to join them in prayer with the sacred medicine,” said Chief Oscar Moreno, who came on behalf of Leonard Crow Dog. Lakota spiritual leader. Like the Wixarika or Huichol people, the Lakota and many other tribal peoples in the north pray with peyote, which they consider a sacrament. Wirikuta is one of the most important ceremonial centers for the collection and ceremonial use of peyote, and the Wixarika have been the historical guardians of the sacred hallucinogenic cactus, which they say puts them in contact with their ancestors and the spirits of the land. “We are indebted to them in this holy ground because they have cared for the medicine and they brought it to the North.”

Moreno was concerned to hear the news of the planned gold and silver mines in the area. “We’re very familiar with what this means, and we’re here to pray in the hope that others will understand that desecrating sacred land is not a good idea for anyone.”

Cilau Valadez, a young Huichol artist who has been traveling in Canada and the United States, building alliances with the different tribes through the Americas, said the visit of leaders like Moreno, Anishinabe leader Wab Kinew and Native American Church Vice-President Sandor Iron Rope represents a significant moment in Native American history.

“We are fulfilling the Hopi prophecy that speaks of a time when all the original peoples from the North and the South will come together,” he said. “It means that we are one people, and that we must be recognized.”

Meanwhile, rumors circulated of a pending “counterprotest” of local residents in favor of the mine as habitants of Real de Catorce watch the proceedings with a mixed feelings. “Yes to the sacred sites, yes to mining,” read one banner hung at the entrance of the town. “Huichol brothers, support us, and we will support you.” Another one read, “Mining, tourism and sacred sites go hand in hand. We support the environment; we only want social wellbeing.”

Father Ernesto Vega Torres hears from his parishioners on both sides of the fence and worries about the future of the region, regardless of what happens. “Everything is just on hold; everyone is waiting to see what will happen with the mine,” he said. “It’s a very difficult situation.”

He pointed to a severe water crisis in town today as businesses in the city center ran out of water entirely. Two pumps broke down due to a lack of water in the wells, he said. “It hasn’t rained in more than a year; we’re in the worst drought since 1917. There was no sowing because the rain never came, so there was no harvest. People’s animals are dying. It’s a crisis, so they want jobs. But here we run into a problem, because there’s simply no water – and mining requires a lot of water.”

Volunteers with horses and burros have been preparing all week for the ceremony, carrying up the mountain a historic quantity of water, along with other supplies: 600 liters, along with firewood for 17 fires, 2,500 tamales, 30 kilos of beans, 50 kilos of coal and the stoves for cooking. An estimated 800 Wixarika are expected to arrive in the mid-afternoon.

All participants are being asked to observe a strict protocol to allow the Wixarika to conduct their ceremony without outside interference. The all-night ceremony will take place at the top of the Cerro Quemado, the sacred mountain where the Huichols believe the sun was born. They will arrive this afternoon after days with no sleep and little food, following the complicated series of activities required of all who make the pilgrimage to Wirikuta. Their rituals are meant to be a re-creation of the journey their forefathers made at the beginning of the world, and in the process, they dream the rain and the coming of the sun, and they bring the light and the rain, said Johannes Neurath of the National Museum of Anthropology, one of the invited guests.

“It’s a very unique event – something that’s never happened,” said Neurath. “Obviously they are very worried about what’s happening here; normally they are very divided among themselves. It’s very rare that they organize among themselves, and even more so that they would allow us to attend.”

2012-02-08-Ofelia.jpg
Patricia Diaz, director of several documentaries about the Huichols, and actress Ofelia Medina were among the invited guests to the ceremony.

Medina Ofelia, one of Mexico’s most beloved Hollywood actresses and a longtime supporter of indigenous rights, compared the situation in Wirikuta with the Zapatistas’ uprising in 1994, which she also supported. “It’s the same struggle,” she said. “It’s for the rights of the indigenous people of Mexico, who have always been marginalized.” She was looking forward to the ceremony, not her first as she has been working with the Wixarika since 1985. She wasn’t sure what to expect, however. “They have taught us not to go with expectations,” she said with a smile. “It’s better to wait and see.”

For more information about Wirikua, see www.wirikutadefensefront.org.

2012-02-06-sun.jpg

Mexico City to Huicholes: “You are not alone”

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: October 28, 2011Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , , , , , , , ,
Mexico City to Huicholes: “You are not alone”

By Tracy L. Barnett
for The Esperanza Project

MEXICO CITY – Led by a vanguard of more than 250 Wixarika elders, women, men and children in their colorful traditional dress, a colorful river of marchers filled the grand Reforma Avenue of Mexico City for four hours yesterday, ending at the residence of President Felipe Calderón.

“You are not alone! You are not alone!” chanted the marchers, some of whom had formed a protective human chain encircling the indigenous representatives as they prepared to deliver their petition to the nation’s highest authority: Save Wirikuta, the Sacred Heart of Mexico.

It was the culmination of two days of events designed to draw attention to mining and agroindustrial projects that threaten the cultural survival of one of the world’s best-preserved living pre-Hispanic cultures: the Wixarika people, better known by the Spanish name of Huicholes. Two massive mining projects have been proposed for the Wixarika’s most sacred site, and a plague of industrial tomato growers have razed thousands of hectares of fragile desert habitat in the UNESCO-recognized, state-protected Wirikuta Ecological and Cultural Reserve.

Traditional authorities from each of the eight communities represented by the march were allowed to enter the presidential complex, heavily guarded by federal police in riot gear, in order to present a letter to authorities. It was the third such letter asking Calderon to rescind the 22 concessions granted to the Canadian transnational First Majestic Silver Corp. Until now, there has been no response. The hope was that with so many eyes upon the delegation’s demands, this time would be different. Presidential representatives promised an answer within a week.

“Felipe! entiende! Wirikuta no se vende – (Felipe [Calderon], Understand! Wirikuta is not for sale),” chanted the crowd as they approached the Mexican counterpart to the White House. Plumes of smoke rose into the air from the copal burning in ceremonial censors along with chants of “Wirikuta no se vende! Se ama y se defiende! (Wirikuta is not to sell; it is to love and defend).”



Participants made their way to the front of the crowd to affix their colorful Huichol Eyes of God to the gates of the presidential complex, as feather-headdressed Aztec dancers beat a rhythm to the chants with their drums and ayoyotes, and members of the Triqui tribes, Red Road and other indigenous groups and dozens of environmental and human rights groups joined the throng with banners. The marchers made it clear that the site is sacred not only to the Wixarika but to other indigenous groups and to thousands of non-indigenous Mexicans and internationals who believe the Mountains of Catorce and the desert at their feet is one of the most important spiritual centers in the world.

Events began on Wednesday with a press conference in which intellectuals, artists and other leaders in the civil society expressed their support for the mobilization and the Wixarika delegation. Actor Daniel Giménez Cacho thanked the delgates, saying “they are teaching us to defend our house and what is ours.” In previous days, Giménez Cacho was one of dozens of Mexican actors and film personalities who signed a letter in support of the mobilization, including Gael Garcia Bernal. Top musical stars like Manu Chao and Aterciopelados have promised support, and last week, Ruben Albarran of Café Tacuba, Roco and Moyenei from Sonidero Meztizo and other artists held a press conference for Wirikuta. Roco and Moyenei accompanied the entire processon on a double-decker bus-turned-sound system, alternately broadcasting music and calls of encouragement to the crowd; at one point a pair of traditional Wixarika fiddlers played their haunting music to cheers from the crowd. The entire event culminated in a high-energy concert at the Museum of Anthropology, led by Roco and Moyenei.

The delegation was received at the National Autonomous University of Mexico and the National School of Anthropology and History with open arms, food and one of two concerts sponsored by Sonidero Meztizo.

After the press conference, the multihued band loaded onto buses for a pilgrimage to the Basilica and to the Hill of Tepeyac, where the indigenous Juan Diego is believed to have seen the Virgin of Guadalupe. Perhaps more importantly to the Wixarika, it’s the ancestral temple site for Tonantzin, the powerful pre-Hispanic Earth goddess.

Another part of the delegation went to meet with officials at SEMARNAT, the federal environmental agency, to outline their concerns. And yet another group went off to do interviews with the national media.

But the spiritual high point of the two-day affair came on Thursday morning, when the Wixarika streamed into the park containing the Pyramid of Cuicuilco, the first important civic-religious center of the Mexican Highlands and a sacred site for the Wixarika. They made their way through the park to the foot of the pyramid, where there is a simple altar where the Huichol people leave their offerings. There at the foot of the pyramid, traditional musicians began to play their fiddles, and one by one, the marakames blessed each of the participants with their feathered muwiere. Time seemed to stand still as each person filed in to take their turn in front of the tiny house constructed to shelter their offerings.

“Today we lighted the candles of life and left our offerings for all life on Earth,” explained Wixarika traditional leader Santos de la Cruz in a reception at the neighboring School of Anthropology and History, the same site that welcomed the Zapatistas in their many sojourns from Chiapas more than a decade ago. “We pray not only for the protection of our heart, our veins, our life, which is Wirikuta, but for the other sacred sites in the world which are threatened, and this threat menaces all of life on the planet.”

For more information about the campaign to save Wirikuta, see www.frenteendefensadewirikuta.org.

Images from the October 26-27 mobilization Save Wirikuta: The Sacred Heart of Mexcio:


Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Organic Nicaragua: On the road with Común Tierra

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: October 21, 2011Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , ,
Organic Nicaragua: On the road with Común Tierra

By Ryan Luckey and Leticia Rigatti
Común Tierra

We entered Costa Rica about two weeks ago and have kept busy with various activities including many seed exchanges, events and visits to various projects. But all that will come in the next post …

This post is to share a little from the month we spent in Nicaragua, where we found really nice people and visited some interesting projects.

Nicaragua is a beautiful country with extensive coastline on both the Pacific and the Caribbean, many lakes and volcanoes. It’s a country that historically faced a strong dictatorship and had to fight a brutal civil war to end the dictatorship through the revolutionary Sandinista movement. Over the years the country has tried to recover, but poverty remains widespread, and Nicaragua today is the second poorest country in the continent, surpassed only by Haiti.


Even with a grave economic situation and violent history, we found Nicaragua’s population really open and friendly, with clear and strong political opinions and self-esteem. This year is an election year, and we saw many young people marching through the streets and holding political events and demonstrations. Lots of energy in the country …

We found this political rally in Nandaime, Nicaragua

During our visit, we visited three sustainability projects. Two on Ometepe Island, an island formed by two volcanoes in the middle of stunning Lake Nicaragua, the largest tropical lake in the world.

Ometepe

Panoramic view of the Island

On Omatepe we visited the Project Inan Itah, a spiritual development center with various permaculture practices and a volunteer program. While visiting for a few days we actively participated in community activities and became great friends in this beautiful project.

Another interesting project is the ecological hostel El Zopilote, which was designed using permaculture principles. The hostel’s natural buildings and organic food production make for a cool food-forest jungle experience, and is a center for backpackers to a have a relaxed and more conscious visit to the island.

During our visit to El Zopilote we had an exciting moment with their bees. On the farm they have a cross between Italian bees (very quiet, friendly) and African bees (aggressive, hardy). That is, the bees are warriors, but not brutal. We were talking to Danielle who takes care of the bees, real close to the boxes, taking pictures and talking… and suddenly we realized that the bees started flying at us! There were so many! And then someone says RUUUUUUUN!! And we run down the ravine, up the hill, around the bend, and away…. It was crazy to have that ringing in the ears, unable to look back and have to keep running! Ryan got bitten twice including once on his lip, and Danielle about 8 times. In the end we learned that we can not abuse the bees patience and we should better respect the space of our dear friends the bees who make such rich food for us, and yet struggle to survive in the jungle.


The bees, calm, as we began to observe…


Here the bees are started to get agitated…

We also participated in a community event in the town of Santa Cruz on Omatepe, where we played music and shared a little about Común Tierra…

The organizers offered some free organic seeds for the local people, and some resources on how to grow organically, natural medicine, etc…

On Nicaragua’s Pacific coast we visited Finca Las Nubes, a place where residents are trying to build a totally self-suffcient ranch and community, using various integrated practices, with the hopes of leaving a legacy for future generations.

For more photos, visit our Facebook album.

For now we say goodbye as we head out to organize our seeds… we will be trading and offering seeds tomorrow in the Feria Verde (organic market) in San Jose, capital city of Costa Rica.

A BIG HUG and we hope to see you soon!

Leti and Ryan

Losing mangrove forests in El Salvador to climate change

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: October 20, 2011Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , ,
Losing mangrove forests in El Salvador to climate change

by Ryan Luckey
Comuntierra

This article was originally published by Al-Jazeera and can be accessed HERE.

With disastrous volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and extreme storms, El Salvador is widely regarded as one of the world’s most vulnerable countries to natural disasters. With the impacts of climate change complicating social and economic crises, the El Salvadorian government has recognized that national security considerations must include discussion of environmental factors, leading to the Minister of the Environment Herman Chavez to proclaim Climate Change as ‘our number 1 priority’ in February 2011. However, as Salvadorians well know, when it comes to natural disasters, some things are simply out of their control. The demise of the countries Mangrove Forests is one of these cases.

El Salvador’s Pacific Mangrove forest, the largest of its kind in Central America, covers over 20,000 hectares in and around the Jiquilisco Bay. Mangroves are traditionally considered to be a natural protection from extreme flooding and rising tides, acting as an invaluable buffer zone during extreme weather events.
Several years ago, however, local communities began noticing a strange phenomenon; the Mangroves at the edge of the ocean were dying.

A Threatened Ecosystem

The Mangrove forest is a unique ecosystem found in tropical and sub-tropical coastal regions in the Americas, Middle East, Asia and Oceania. Characterized by the mixing of fresh water and salt water, the Mangrove creates specific conditions that support a wide variety of flora and fauna.

The trees have a series of stilt-like supports that extend from the trunk for increased stability and resilience. The Mangrove trees have evolved to be able to withstand change in water level caused by normally occurring tidal cycles and mild flooding, helping protect coastal areas from damage from extreme storms and tsunamis. In
recent years, however, a rise in sea level has brought the ocean waves intruding further inland than ever before, wreaking havoc on the trees and the entire ecosystem.

According to Dr. Ricardo Navarro, director of the Center for Appropriate Technologies in El Salvador (CESTA), over 30 meters of Mangrove forest has been completely destroyed by this phenomenon in the last 6 years. “With the increase in global sea level, the ocean waves are entering further and further into the Mangroves. What happens is the waves wash away the soil nutrients, leaving the trees in pure sand. So the trees die, and then all of the animals leave the area.”

All along the central coast of El Salvador there is a dead zone stretching along the beach, measuring between 10 and 50 meters. The cause? Climate Change, says Dr. Navarro.

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change reported that global sea level rose 21 centimeters in the last century. This rise is reportedly caused by a combination of glacial melting, melting of the polar caps, and the physical expansion of the oceans with a rise in water temperature, all claimed to be consequences from global warming caused by human activity.

When asked how far the tide has come in, local fisherman Adan Nahun Diaz Ramirez pointed out into the sea, past the breaking waves. “The forest extended past all of this, you can see,” he said, pointing to Mangrove stumps underneath the crashing waves. “Actually, beyond the Mangroves, there was a layer of other trees on the beach.”

With no soil structure and no life left, the newly exposed land has no protection from the ocean, which over time is encroaching further inland. Locals estimate that at least 50 meters of land has been lost to the ocean in the last ten years.

Effects on Local Communities

La Tirana is a small village of 23 families at the edge of the Mangrove. The village was populated through most of the 20th century, but abandoned during El Salvador’s civil war, when most rural areas of the country were abandoned. The town came back to life 10 years ago, when new residents moved in.

CESTA has been working in La Tirana since 2005 to develop a program called “Sustainable Ways of Life.” The program has provided the community an environmental education program, technical assistance for organic agriculture, installed water wells, and several solar panels to bring electricity to the village for the first time. The program also facilitated the creation of a vision for the villages’ ecological and economic sustainability.

“Now we have a plan for sustainable harvesting of the Punche, which limits our harvest to 5-7 dozen per day,” Ramirez told me. “But there are days when we can’t even find 1 dozen.”

Like many other rural communities, harvesting the ‘Punche,’ a local species of Mangrove Crab, is the only source of income. “The Earth here is not easy to cultivate, because its just sand, so we depend on the Mangrove,” Ramirez said. “In the last few years, it’s been increasingly difficult to hunt the Punche, and we have no other way to support our community.”

Effects on Wildlife

Just a few kilometers from La Tirana, in the mouth of the Lempa river, surrounded by Mangroves, there used to be a sand island.

The year-round island was observed to be the seasonal home to a colony of American Skimmer birds, the only habitat of its kind observed in Central America. With the rising tide, the island has almost disappeared, now only appearing during low tide. Without a safe place to rest, the Skimmer hasn’t been seen in the area in several years.

“This is clearly an effect of global Climate Change,” claims Dr. Navarro. “And the worst part of it is that there’s nothing we can do to protect these Mangroves and these species of fauna. We as a global community have to take action to stop global warming. The international agreements being discussed today would still allow an increase of up to 5 degrees centigrade through the end of this century. This degree of change would have disastrous effects around the world. What we are seeing here is only the beginning.”

Climate Refugees

Throughout the 70’s and 80’s, waves of Salvadorian refugees fled the country’s violent civil war. In the last decades, immigration has continued, as citizens look to escape extreme poverty and a series of natural disasters, including magnitude 7.7 and 6.7 earthquakes in 2001, and Tropical Storm Agatha in 2010. Extreme storms are becoming more common and more intense, leading to extreme flooding throughout the country and particularly in the Central coast area.

“If things keep going like this, the next wave of immigrants from El Salvador will be Climate Refugees,” says Dr. Navarro.

International organizations ranging from the IPCC to UNESCO are estimating that between 10 and 50 million refugees will flee their homes in the first half of the 21st century because of climate change related disasters.
Community members of La Tirana all agree that things are getting worse each year, and the ocean moving inland faster. If this continues, they may join the millions of refugees fleeing the effects of climate change, and El Salvador’s environmental and social condition will get a little more complicated.

Esquire Latin America: Huicholes prepare for battle

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: October 8, 2011Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , , , , ,
Esquire Latin America: Huicholes prepare for battle

Esquire Latinoamerica, August 2011
Text and Photos by Tracy L. Barnett

For the Huicholes, the region known as Wirikuta, in North-Central Mexico, is sacred; for a Canadian company it is the base of its next great mining project. Meanwhile, the inhabitants of the village of Real de Catorce, at the heart of Wirikuta, are divided among those who need jobs and those who see the mine as a threat. The debate grows with every day and has reached as far as Canada and the United Nations.

To see the entire article (in Spanish), download here: PDF Huicholes

Permacyclists kick off Journey #2: Latin America

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: July 14, 2011Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , , ,
Permacyclists kick off Journey #2: Latin America

Meet Dave and Anna, the Permacyclists.

She was a corporate lawyer from Brussels; he was a sociologist from New York. Neither of them was happy with their chosen profession, and after a great deal of soul searching, they decided to do what many dream of but few actually do: They quit their jobs, studied permaculture, bought bicycles and headed off across Africa, pedaling and working their way through 12 countries, 12,000 kilometers and 16 months from organic farm to organic farm, sharing what they’d learned along the way.

Now they’ve landed in Mexico and are launching a Phase 2 of their journey, but with a difference. This time they’re bringing a video camera and sound equipment, and documenting the stories of people working on solutions to the many environmental problems they have learned about in their travels. Their goal is to make it to the Earth Summit in Rio in June 2012. And this time they’re going by bus, instead of bike, to give them time to do reporting, writing and producing for their blog.

I was inspired by their story and by their plan, since in some ways it parallels my own – so we got together and shared stories. Here’s a little bit of theirs.

The cheery young couple quickly turn sober when they contemplate the ravaged landscape they encountered in Africa – not because of war and famine, the typical scenarios associated with Africa, but because of severe environmental degradation. Soil erosion, deforestation, desertification, invasive species taking over and killing out what’s left of the local ecosystems. “We were biking through all those problems for 16 months,” said Annabelle. “And yes, we have seen some amazing tropical forests, but you could be sure as soon as you left that little national park you would see not a single tree.”

Climate change was a big topic of conversation wherever they went: New York, Belgium, all throughout Africa, and now in Mexico. In Mozambique, they biked along a coast through miles and miles of former rice fields ruined by the saltwater that had flooded them during a tsunami. At Mount Kilimanjaro, they compared historic photos of the ice-capped mountain with its dwindling patch of white.

“How can we deny climate change is happening? People are talking about it everywhere,” said Anna. “They talk about how the rainy season hasn’t come and how its really weird because it’s too wet but not at the right time, and how things have changed.

“But people are acting on this, and that’s the good news.”

That’s how their project evolved to focus on sustainability efforts throughout the continent.

“I find myself much happier when I’m working with people who are working on solutions, rather than those who are saying we are all going to die,” said Annabelle. “To keep saying we’re going to die is not helping, it’s not moving people to action.”

Their families were not happy about their decision to take off across Africa on their bikes. Both mothers, independently of each other, notified them that when they were kidnapped – “not if, but when” – they would not be responsible for the ransom, Dave said. “They took a picture that was a profile of the ear so they could identify us when they found the corpse,” he laughs when he recalls the moment.

And then there was the reaction to Annabelle’s decision to leave her career as a successful lawyer. “It was like: You studied for six years and you have a practice and you’re going to throw it away for what? to go biking?”

There were some actual dangers – they were mock-chargd by a gorilla in Uganda and a hippo in Botswana. “Believe me, when you have that thing of 1.5 tons running toward you in the water, where it’s strongest, and you’e in a little plastic boat…. it’s quite humbling,” Anna recalls.

But the dangers were not at all what the family and friends were worried about. “The image of Africa in the West is just not fair and it’s racist in a lot of ways,” said Dave. Of course, he added, most Westerners haven’t been there, except for a handful who go on safaris, and given the conditions reported by most of the media coverage, it’s a pretty scary place. But the Permacyclists found Africa to be filled with people who were kind, caring and generous.

In Nairobi, he recalled – which has earned the moniker “Nairobbery” – the pair kept a low profile. “We were totally intimidated. We didn’t take a chance, didn’t try to meet local people.” On the last day, nervous at the prospect that they’d have to cross the scary shantytown area, they were surprised to see all the people smiling and waving as they cycled by.

“That same day we met a great guy who ran three kilometers across an open field to tell us we were going the wrong way,” he said. “People were looking out for us, and we didn’t even realize.”

Finally, after many months and many miles, the family came around.

“They saw that we were happy,” said Annabelle.

“And that we didn’t die,” said Dave.

“Let’s face it – some of it’s luck,” said Anna. “Bad things happen – I was a criminal lawyer, so I know. You can get robbed, but you can get robbed in Brussels, too, or New York. So let’s stop being scared. Let’s throw the TV out the window, and let’s get out and meet people. That’s where it’s happening.”

The pair’s second tour of duty started with a three-week natural building class in North Carolina. From there they headed to Houston, where they ran into the folks from Transition Houston, a dynamic part of the Transition Towns movement – who put them in touch with me. Their first video project was about that group and its projects. Here it is.

#1 Transition Houston from Permacyclists on Vimeo.

So far, they say, they’ve been blessed with enthusiastic support everywhere they’ve gone.

“It’s like we’ve stumbled across this underground world of people who are doing amazing things, and now here we are in Guadalajara and we have six interviews lined up and a place to sleep,” said Dave.

To Anna, that response serves to underscore a valuable lesson that their journeys have taught them.

“You know you’re nothing alone – but together, we’re something quite powerful. It’s about the power of groups, the power of community – you’re not alone in this world. Get out and do something, talk to people. It’s really magical.”

Follow the Permacyclists on their blog and on Facebook and Twitter. And check out the trailer for their upcoming movie!

Urgent letter from the Wixarika People to the President of Mexico and to all the Peoples and Governments of the World

By
Tracy Barnett
Published: May 13, 2011Posted in: Featured, WhyTags: , , , , , , , , ,
Urgent letter from the Wixarika People to the President of Mexico and to all the Peoples and Governments of the World

(photos courtesy of omananda.com)

To the President of the United States of Mexico Felipe Calderón Hinojosa
To the People and Governments of the World

PRESENT

We come personally from the Western Sierra Madre to deliver this urgent letter to demand that you keep your word that you publicly announced when you committed to respect and protect our sacred places in the pact of Hauxa Manaká in 2008 and to do so according to the fundamental laws of our country and the agreements, decrees, pacts and national and international conventions that the Mexican State has subscribed to guarantee the respect of our living and millennial culture.

We are a commission of agrarian and traditional authorities from the Wixárika People, who together form the Regional Wixarika Council in Defense of Wirikuta, and we bring the word that unites the sentiment of the councils of elders, of the wise chanters, of the pilgrimage groups entrusted with sustaining the arduous work of more than 500 community ceremonial centers and family ranches; we bring the word that together is one united decisive expression of the feelings of the families of all the communities in Jalisco, Nayarit, Durango and Zacatecas where the Wixaritari live and we want you to respond respecting our rights according to your commitment.

The Federal Government of our country granted 22 concessions that span more than 6,000 hectares in the Sierra of Catorce to the mining company First Majestic Silver Corp. and Real de Bonanza, S.A. de C.V. But the Sierra of Catorce and the whole of Wirikuta, Mr. President, is one of the altars of major importance where our pilgrims balance fertility and the equilibrium of the world for all its creatures and we have evidence that the mining operation would affect in a deep way the ecology, contaminating the zone and drying out our sacred springs.

In these times of extreme violence in our country, which are destroying our social fabric, with this megaproject you are kidnapping and want to assassinate our mother, The Earth, which you have threatened, and seek the forced disappearance of an entire people, the Wixarika People.

For this reason we demand that you immediately cancel these concessions and any others that have as their goal the extraction of minerals or the destruction of Wirikuta in any other way because if the object of all of this tragedy is money, with conviction we inform you that it will be infinitely cheaper to cancel these concessions than to lament the ecological, spiritual and social tragedy that digging and extracting the entrails of Wirikuta could provoke.

Wirikuta is the heart of our essence. If it ends, we die as a people. We have been making pilgrimages to Wirikuta for thousands of years and we know the Ancestors who live in each hill, each stony glade, each rocky crag, and each flower by their names and we have for that reason, according to international standards, the right of traditional, ancestral possession. We respect nevertheless, the communities and farmers who live in the area and we pray also that they may sow and reap their food, so that they may live well, care for and be protected by this sacred land whose vocation is not mining but the enlightenment and renovation of the heart of the world.

We see with much concern that despite the aforementioned Pact of Hauxa Manaká and despite the public opposition of our people to the mining operation in Wirikuta, you have maintained an inexplicable silence in the face of our demand, while our territorial rights have been violated, similarly our previous, free and informed consent, in addition carrying out this mining project will violate the environmental laws of our country, because the area is a Natural Protected Area by governmental decree with its management plan.
The fundamentals of our claim are in the first terms of Convention 169 of the International Labor Organization, in its articles 2, 6, 7, 14 and 15; likewise, in Article 2 section b subsection IX, article 27 section VII, second paragraph of the Political Constitution of the United States of Mexico and its related laws.
It worries us even more, that some members of the federal government and the mining company itself are trying to convince us to accept the mine in exchange for granting us one of the sacred places from part of the expanse of Wirikuta, the Cerro Quemado o Raunaxi.

We have already explained that the Sierra of Catorce is a whole unit, where the spiritual energy and power of our ancestors, who allow us to live our lives now and in the future, resides between the lowlands and the highest peaks of the mountains and throughout its interior, and it coincides best with the area of more than 144,000 hectares of the natural protected region. We will not accept for any reason that this type of activity be developed in the area as it is too great an affront for our people, for Mexico and for all of humanity, besides the obvious illegalities that these concessions represent.

Mr. President, we are the original people of this country, we are the ancient root and we reiterate, don’t destroy our Wixárika culture, don’t destroy yourselves for the ignorance of not knowing what these valleys of Wirikuta contain, and the mountains which illuminate the world.

For this reason our commission comes all the way here to deliver this written statement to you. We bring you our urgent word in a timely fashion. We are chanting pilgrims, cultivators; we are the legitimate authorities of our people of corn, deer and sun. We are Mexicans and we dress ourselves with flowers because we chant of peace.

Cancel the mine in Wirikuta, raise to the federal level the environmental and cultural protection and all of our descendents will thank you, otherwise the present generations will walk a difficult but firm path in the conviction of detaining this threat, we await your formal answer in your capacity of the Chief Federal Executive and the one principally responsible for the economic, environmental and social policy of our country.

Pampariyutsi.

Attentively,

Regional Wixarika Council for the Defense of Wirikuta
Mexico, D.F., May 9, 2011

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