by Joy Truskowski In such a small, seemingly tranquil community it’s strange to see the road dotted with skeletons of burnt-out cars. They look like a frightening element plucked from a violent inner-city neighborhood and randomly plopped in the center of quaint San Blas Atempa. San Blas Atempa is a small municipality nestled close to Tehuantepec in the state of Oaxaca. It has a strong Zapotec culture that is matrilineal, where wealth is handed down from the mother to the daughter and the women play a more powerful role than they typically do in other indigenous cultures. You clearly sense it when you visit the town. The women boldly welcome you with firm yet warm voices. They joke and laugh heartily and are surprisingly open and interested in talking to you. The men are friendly too, and they actually struck me as more timid than the women. The name San Blas Atempa means “on the river’s edge,” and that strikes me as poetically appropriate. The burnt-out cars are a product of a revolt that happened a little over a year ago. The people of the town had finally had enough of their corrupt PRI-ista undemocratically elected mayor, and they attacked the municipal palace. These same people who so generously served me warm food when I visited had also set fire to the palace and the cars of the mayor’s functionaries. After the mayor was covered in gasoline and begging for her life, they claimed they didn’t have any matches and sent her away. Thirteen months later when I visited, the people of San Blas Atempa still had control of the municipal palace. They guarded it in shifts and declared their own autonomous municipality. Recently they formally pledged to adhere to the Sixth Declaration of the Lacandon Jungle. The “official” municipal government is in exile operating in a building outside of the town. State and federal resources are stacked against these people, but they persist with a strong spirit and inspiring hope. They are literally on the river’s edge, standing in a place that is risky and dangerous but totally necessary. Ready to jump and possibly sink, but also driven to swim against the current and thrive victoriously. So what would make such open friendly people attack a municipal palace with such fiery violence? Agustina Aceveda Gutiérrez had ruled over the town for about 12 years. She paid off people to vote for her party and held fraudulent elections. She sold community lands without the permission of the campesinos. On January 1, 2005, she installed a hand-picked candidate via a manipulated public assembly. She stood on the balcony and taunted the people who were protesting in front of the palace. When they began to throw rocks and bricks at her she ordered her police to fire at them. Four people were shot. That was when the people were moved to attack the palace and take over. Today the four people who were shot along with the man who brought them to the hospital for medical care are political prisoners. They were arrested immediately after receiving medical treatment. Seventy-two other citizens still have warrants out for their arrest as a result of this event. This was the setting I walked into when I arrived in this town on February 6, 2006 with some friends who were following and reporting about the Other Campaign. We were greeted enthusiastically in front of the palace. Hundreds were gathered there under a shelter decorated with red, green, and white flags, and women were endlessly passing out bowls of goat meat soup and fresh tortillas for everybody. There were men of all ages poised in their cowboy hats, teenage girls whispering and smiling, women with their traditional colorfully flowered skirts, and toddlers wandering close behind them. The first floor of the formerly sterile white palace had been painted bright orange and green. Other parts were littered with Marcos posters and graffiti denouncing the corrupt government. Articles about the rebellion were proudly displayed on a poster board in front of the palace. Among them was a photo of the former mayor smiling under an assault of markered eyebrows, mustache, blacked-out teeth and horns. Marcos and the Other Campaign were met with loud, spirited cheering and chanting. As several people, and then Marcos, spoke in this incredible setting, I realized that the struggle of San Blas is at the heart the message of the Other Campaign. Every country, city, community, neighborhood, consumer, worker, family, man, woman, and child has their own unique solutions. I’m not saying every town should kidnap its mayor and pour gasoline over him or her. (Although in some cases that might not be a bad idea.) But I am saying that every person as part of a community should consider every option heavily, especially those that lie outside of the box. Imagine if small communities all over the world simultaneously said, “Enough is enough!” Imagine a world-wide movement of smaller movements employing a variety of creative tactics to seize back the government for the will of the people. Imagine streets flooded with people, independent media outlets popping up everywhere, jails getting crowded out, mass boycotts, multiple strikes, farmers refusing to sell their products to a corrupt system… the possibilities are endless. You can claim the world isn’t ready for this kind of action. But that doesn’t mean we can’t build towards it. That’s what the Other Campaign is urging us to do. This small group of idealists in San Blas Atempa, this tiny corner of the world that could be so easily forgotten, did what many consider unthinkable. I can only hope that their courage and strength spreads like a contagious disease to every person who is doubting any possibility of justice, who is feeling hopeless in the face of a giant, unbeatable machine. That night I shared the energy of that courage and strength with the people of San Blas Atempa. They even invited us to stay overnight in the municipal palace. We had already paid for a hotel room, so we just decided to hang out with them. Within 10 minutes after Marcos left, they brought out a big case of beer and started passing bottles around. Sure, they can overthrow municipal governments, but don’t expect them to ban alcohol. Every revolution has to carry its own standards. But revolutions don’t come easily. As I was finishing this article I received word that 200 heavily armed Oaxacan state police took the municipal palace early Wednesday morning, March 1. A violent confrontation ensued. Three more citizens were injured and arrested. Six hundred more police showed up. The autonomous government was pushed out of the palace. The “official” government, however, still remains outside of the palace. The citizens of San Blas, alongside activists, independent journalists, the Other Campaign, and others have shown great solidarity and resistance. One of the political prisoners was released due to the pressure of hundreds of people. Upon his release he was protected by a wall of Zapotec women, surrounding him as police tried to re-capture him. The Blasenans demand freedom for the remaining political prisoners, dismissal of the 72 outstanding arrest warrants, that Aceveda (who now is a state delegate) stands accountable for her crimes of violence and corruption, and that the federal and state governments recognize the community’s autonomy. San Blas Atempa is not alone. These struggles are happening all over the world. We have so much to learn from these brave, spirited people. They fight for the same things we are fighting for in our own lives and communities. The day I visited them, they were deeply grateful that independent journalists were there to tell their story. I’m not a journalist, but I hope that I am giving their story justice right now. It’s the first step in changing the mentality of people wherever they are, so that we can all resist with hope like the people of San Blas Atempa. We are all teetering on the river’s edge, and we can either sink or swim. Sources Giordano, Al and Bertha Rodriguez Santos. “Surrounded by 800 Heavily Armed Police Agents, San Blas Atempa, Oaxaca, Refuses to Surrender.” The Other Journalism. www.narconews.com March 2, 2006. Gomez, Luis. “Indigenous Resident of San Blas, Oaxaca Arrested, but His People Win His Release.” http://narcosphere.narconews.com/story/2006/2/23/20158/5782, February 23, 2006. Kummer, Michael. “Ya Basta (Enough Already) in San Blas, Oaxaca.” The Other Journalism. www.narconews.com February 6, 2006. Moreno, Hiram. “Police Retake Oaxaca Town Hall Occupied Since January 2005.” La Jornada. March 2, 2006. The Popular Autonomous Town Council. “San Blas: A Model for Undoing the Authoritarian Political Model in Oaxaca, Mexico, and the World.” February 6, 2006. The Popular Autonomous Town Council. “Urgent Communique from San Blas Atempa, Oaxaca.” March 1, 2006.