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Zapatista music

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en castellano más abajo

It was difficult for Paula to arrive at the shop on time. It had always been difficult to arrive early to class, and now it was not going to be too different.

Luna and Paula opened the shop at ten o’clock in the morning every day, from Monday to Saturday. They only worked Sunday during the weeks that it took them to extract all the trash from the previous tenants, to condition the walls, to paint them and to furnish the shop with shelves where to exhibit the objects. Also they had to re-condition the toilet room and Jose was pleasantly surprised that they managed to put cement in the stone wash-basin to solve the problem of the cracks themselves. Although they had to do the cement thing once the shop had already been inaugurated.
Most of the volunteers from the Parish came to the inauguration of the shop. Some of them insisted to Salva that he should bless the shop, as he was the priest. Other volunteers begged and begged. Salva said the shop had been blessed already, but Paula doubted this. In the end Salva did a half-hearted gesture of blessing. Paula was not too pleased about this and thought this showed Salva’s disinterest for the shop and thought the half-blessing was also half felt and done only out of political correctness on his part, to not look too rude in front of the parishioners. Luna did not like the blessing either but she appreciated the gesture of not wanting to impose his religious authority on the shop by ostentatiously blessing it and knew that he only half-blessed it to avoid hurting the parishioners’ feelings.

The daily routine consisted of cleaning the glass of the shop window, on the inside and on the outside, sweeping and mopping the shop floor before opening, and up to the portion of sidewalk that was along the door and shop windows.

All this to the sound of the music that they themselves provided.
Paula learned of memory all the songs of those tapes of “Extremo Duro” and “Celtas Cortos”, plus another tape with Zapatista songs that Luna had also bought.

“Why this fixation with the Zapatistas?”
“They contribute many new things.”
“For example? ”
“They don’t want martyrs. It is not possible to fight once one is dead, or in prison. So the goal is not the struggle up to the death. The target is to be still alive, and free, to be able to keep on fighting.”
” Aha. ”
“And they do not want the power. All the revolutions have consisted of changing whom it was in the power, a president for another, a king for a dictator. When taking the power turns into the target, the initial target gets lost, so for it not to turn into a revolution any more that it does not change anything, to take the power cannot be a target. ”
“Ah. And then which is the target?”
” That the community should decide what she wants for her herself. And that the Government should accept those decisions. But that the community, in this case the indigenous community of Chiapas, is who is in charge. ”
“Ah. And that’s why is Marcos is sub-comandante and not Commandante?”
“I do not know.”

castellano

A Paula le costaba llegar a la tienda puntualmente. Siempre le había costado llegar pronto a clase, y ahora no iba a ser demasiado diferente.

Luna y Paula abrían la tienda a las diez de la mañana todos los días, de lunes a sábado. Solo trabajaron los domingos durante las semanas que les llevó sacar toda la basura de los inquilinos anteriores, acondicionar las paredes, pintarlas y amueblar la tienda con estanterías donde exponer los objetos. También tuvieron que re-acondicionar el baño y Jose quedó gratamente sorprendido de que lograran poner cemento en el lavabo de piedra para solucionar el problema de las grietas ellas solas. Aunque lo del cemento en el lavabo tuvieron que hacerlo una vez que la tienda ya se había inaugurado.

Casi todas las voluntarias de la parroquia vinieron a la inauguración de la tienda. Alguans de ellas insitieron a Salva para que bendijera la tienda, puesto que era el cura. Otras le rogaron y rogaron. Salva dijo que la tienda ya había sido bendecida, pero Paula lo dudó. Al final Salva hizo una bendición a medias. A Paula esto no le gustó demasiado y pensó que esto mostraba que Salva no estaba demasiado interesado en la tienda y pensó que la media-bendición fue también solamente sentida a la mitad, y realizada solo por corrección por su parte, para no parecer demasiado maleducado delante de las parroquianas. A Luna tampoco le gustó la bendición pero agradeció el gesto de no querer imponer su autoridad religiosa en la tienda bendiciéndola ostentosamente y supo que solo la medio bendijo para evitar herir los sentimientos de las parroquianas.

La rutina diaria consistía en limpiar los cristales del escaparate, por dentro y por fuera, barrer y fregar la tienda antes de abrir, y hasta la porción de acera que quedaba junto a la puerta y escaparates.

Todo esto al son de la música que ellas mismas proveían. Paula se aprendió de memoria todas las canciones de aquellas cintas de Extremo Duro y Celtas Cortos, más una de canciones zapatistas que también había comprado Luna.

“Por qué esta fijación con los zapatistas?”
“Aportan muchas cosas nuevas.”
“Por ejemplo?”
“No quieren mártires. No se puede luchar una vez que se está muerto, o en la cárcel. Así que la meta no es la lucha hasta la muerte. El objetivo es seguir vivo, y libre, para poder seguir luchando.”
“Aha.”
“Y no quieren el poder. Todas las revoluciones han consistido en cambiar a quien estaba en el poder, un presidente por otro, un rey por un dictador. Cuando tomar el poder se convierte en el objetivo, se pierde el objetivo inicial, así que para que no se convierta en una revolución más que no cambia nada, no puede ser tomar el poder un objetivo.”
“Ah. Y entonces cual es?”
“Que la comunidad decida lo que quiere para ella misma. Y que el gobierno acepte esas decisiones. Pero que la comunidad, en este caso los indígenas de Chiapas, sea quien mande.”
“Ah. Y por eso Marcos es sub-comandante y no comandante?”
“No se.”

Labels on coffee

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castellano robotizado, más abajo
“So, how is the volunteering in the little shop going?” asked Jose while Paula helped him put a label in every packet of the newly arrived Zapatista coffee, ground and roasted in Chiapas.
Normally Paula would have answered with a “great” or similar, but Jose seemed genuinely interested, so she decided to be honest.
“It has grown a bit boring. There are hardly any customers, and talking with Josu is great, but I know most of his life now.”
Jose turned slightly serious for a second. Before he could say anything more, she added:
“But that’s why I enjoy coming here when I can, I like doing things with my hands. Like, putting labels on the Zapatista coffee.”
Jose noticed something in one of the packets and stopped. Paula stopped too, curious. He showed her a hole in the packet he was holding and opened it. Then he smelled it, and gave it for Paula to smell too.”It smells different.”
Paula did not understand much about good or bad coffee smells but it definitely smelled different from anything else she had ever smelled before. Maybe that was how coffee was always meant to smell. When Jose finished sniffing it, he put the packet aside and said:
“Exactly how coffee is meant to smell.”
Paula didn’t say anything more and continue sticking labels on packets. It felt like the other coffee that they had been getting and selling for months was now less worthy than this one, coming from a standard farmers co-operative (not that co-operatives were standard in South America, according to reports from the parish priest and various journals she’d seen). But the Peruvian coffee was allowed to travel, as far as they were aware, without obstacles and by the tonne, from a region in the map that Paula had only heard of in school and now in the parish, while this coffee came not only from a suffering community that was struggling against capitalism upfront, but in a prominent way too.
“Would you like to come with me when I deliver Peruvian coffee to the supermarket chain warehouse?”
“Yes!” The Peruvian coffee may not have been sexy in terms of origin, but as far as destination was concerned, at least some of it would end up in some of the biggest supermarkets ever. And then was how privileged she felt by being allowed to get in the van to see the warehouse, which she was sure not many people would live to see.
“Can you do tomorrow afternoon?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Ok. Here at one?”
“OK.”

————–
castellano
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“¿que, cómo va lo del voluntariado en la pequeña tienda?” pregunto Jose mientras Paula le ayudaba a poner una etiqueta en cada paquete de café Zapatista recien llegado, tostado y molido en Chiapas. Paula habría contestado normalmente con un “bien” o similar, pero Jose parecía realmente interesado, así que decidio ser honesta. “se ha vuelto un poco aburrido. apenas hay clientes, y hablar con Josu esta muy bien, pero ya me sé la mayor parte de su vida.” Jose se puso levemente serio por un segundo. Antes de que pudiera decir nada, Paula anadio: “Pero por eso me gusta venir aquí cuando puedo, puedo hacer cosas con las manos. Como, poner etiquetas en el cafe Zapatista.” Jose notó algo en uno de los paquetes y paró. Paula paró también, curiosa. Él le mostró un agujero en el paquete y lo abrio. Entonces él lo olío, y lo dio para que Paula huela también. “huele distinto.” Paula no entendía mucho sobre buenos o malos olores del café pero este si que olía definitivamente diferente todo lo demás que ella había olido nunca antes. quizá era cómo deberia oler el café siempre. Cuando Jose acabó de olerlo, puso aparte el paquete y dijo: ” Exactamente cómo el café deberia oler siempre.” Paula no dijo más y continuo pegando etiquetas en paquetes. Sentía como el otro café que habían estado trayendo y vendiendo durante meses era menos digno ahora que éste, viniendo de una cooperativa estándar de los granjeros (y no era que las cooperativas eran estándar en Suramérica, según informes del sacerdote de parroquia y de los varios diarios que habia visto ella). Pero al café peruano se le permitia viajar, por lo que sabian, sin obstáculos y por toneladas, de una región en el mapa de la que Paula tenía solamente habia oír hablar en la escuela y ahora en la parroquia, mientras que este café vino no sólo de una comunidad sufridora que luchaba abiertamente contra el capitalismo, sino que además de una manera prominente. ” ¿querrias venir conmigo cuando lleve el café peruano al almacén de la cadena de supermercados? ” ” ¡Sí! ”
pudiera ser que El café peruano no fuera atractivo en términos de origen, pero en cuanto conernia a su destinación, por lo menos algo de él terminaría en algunos de los supermercados más grandes. Y estaba cómo se sentía ella de privilegiada por que le permitieran ir en la furgoneta a ver el almacén. Paula estaba segura de que no mucha gente viviría para ver. ” ¿Puedes mañana por la tarde? ” “creo que sí, si.” “vale. ¿Aquí a la una? ” ” vale.”

Saturday conversations

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The following Saturday Josu was even more talkative than the first one. He put some music too, and at one point, he held his hand out to the cassette player, as if he was going to switch it off.
“You can change it, I don’t mind.” Paula would have much rather share the shift in silence apart from their conversation, but she thought it would be a bit out of place to put requirements and conditions on her mere second Saturday.
“It’s fine. It just reminds me of my partner.”
“Oh.”
“He died a few years ago, in Germany.”
“Uhm. I’m sorry.”
“Although he wasn’t my partner technically any more.”
Paula did not want to appear unduly curious, but then she thought that staying in silence would be ruder.
“How come?”
Josu breathed deeply but Paula could only hear a brief pause.
“We had finished our relationship before he moved to Germany. Then he found someone else, but we continued to stay in touch, it was all part of the agreement. Then he was killed on a motorbike.”
“He was riding a motorbike in Germany?”
“No. He was at the rear. They had an accident and my partner died.”
“And how did you find out?”
“His partner called me.”
Paula did not want to ask any more. She thought Josu still had to go over it. His eyes appeared watery.
“And you?”
“What, boyfriend-wise?”
“Yes.”
“I was going to marry this guy, but I realised, just in time, that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
They stayed in silence, giving out leaflets or generally hanging around in the shop for some more time and then Paula broke the silence:
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes. A separate issue is whether I will answer or not, but fire away.”
“Why do you always wear that neckerchief?”
“Because the Zapatistas are still at war.”
“At war?” She had read and heard about the Zapatista uprising in 1995, and, in one parish meeting, to every one’s surprise, she had expressed her support for their cause, but the Zapatistas had not been featured in the papers for a long time now.
“Yes, they have been at war since the uprising, the army makes incursions in their villages and kills unarmed women, children and elderly, while all they want is autonomy, recognition of indigenous rights and the end of the repression. Well, and of capitalism too.”
“And that is why you wear that.”
“Yes. It provokes the question. As has been the case.”
“That’s true.”
“You know? We may get Zapatista coffee very soon.”
“That would be ‘so’ cool.”
“Ground and roasted there. Unlike the coffee from Peru, which comes green and raw and it is processed here.”
“Why don’t we do get the Peruvian coffee processed as well, instead of having this normal company here to do it?”
“Because once you toast it and grind it, it lasts very little, just weeks. In raw state, it lasts months. And it comes by ship and from the moment it leaves the coffee fields until it gets there it takes three months, so it does need to last that long.”
“Hmm. And what about the Mexican coffee then? Is it coming by plane?”
“I think so. The Mexican government is not allowing any coffee from Chiapas to get out by ship anyway, so maybe sending it by plane is another option.”
“Why do the government do that!?”
“To repress them more, make their survival more difficult?”
Paula wanted to buy Zapatista coffee to support them. And a neckerchief.
“Where did you get that neckerchief?”
“from some support group. They make them in batches, and they ran out. Now you’ll need to wait for them to make the next one and supply our shop with them.”
Good, thought Paula. That will give me time to save some money for that.
“And what about you, have you been abroad?”
“Just in London, last year, I saw some of it in five days.”
“How was it?”
“Big. And foreign. But I liked it.”
“Aha?”
“Apart from the centre, the rest looks like a small village, with small houses all lined up, all being the same. And even in the centre, there were lots of open streets, like, you would never feel claustrophobic because of tall buildings surrounding you. It looks like somewhere where I could live.”
“Will you go back?”
Paula looked at Josu very serious.
“I don’t know, when, how. But one day, just one day, I will go to London, and will live there, at least for a year.”

castellano

El sábado siguiente Josu estuvo hasta más hablador que el primero. También puso algo de música, y en un momento dado, alargó la mano hacia el reproductor de cintas, como si fuera a apagarlo.
“‘Se puede cambiar, no importa.” Paula habría preferido con mucho compartir el turno en silencio aparte de su conversación, pero pensó que quizás estaría un poco fuera de lugar poner exigencias y condiciones en su segundo sábado.
‘Está muy bien. Sólo que me recuerda mi pareja. ”
“Ah.”
“Él murió hace unos años, en Alemania.”
“Uhm. Lo siento.”
“Aunque él no fuera mi pareja ya, técnicamente.”
Paula no quiso parecer excesivamente curiosa, pero luego pensó que sería más maleducado permanecer en silencio.
‘¿Por qué?’
Josu respiró hondo pero apenas se oyó una pausa.
“Habíamos terminado nuestra relación antes de que él se mudara a Alemania. Entonces él encontró alguien más, pero seguimos en contacto, era parte del acuerdo. Entonces él se mató en un accidente de moto.”
¿”Él montaba en moto en Alemania?”
“No. Iba detrás. Tuvieron un accidente y mi ex-pareja murió.”
‘Y tú, ¿cómo te enteraste?’
“Su compañero me llamó.”
Paula no quiso preguntar más. Pensó que Josu todavía tenía algo por superar. Sus ojos parecían acuosos.
¿”Y tú?”
¿”Qué, de novio?”
“Sí.”
“Yo iba a casarme con un chico, pero me di cuenta, justo a tiempo, de que no quería pasar el resto de mi vida con él.”
‘Suena razonable.”
Se quedaron en silencio, repartiendo panfletos o generalmente perdiendo el tiempo en la tienda durante algún tiempo más y luego Paula rompió el silencio:
¿”Te puedo hacer una pregunta?’
‘Sí. Tema aparte es si voy a responder o no, pero chuta.”
‘¿Por qué siempre llevar ese pañuelo?’
‘Porque los Zapatistas están todavía en guerra. ”
¿”En guerra?” Ella había leído y oído sobre el levantamiento Zapatista de 1995, y, en una reunión de parroquia, para sorpresa de los presentes, ella había expresado su apoyo a su causa, pero los Zapatistas no habían aparecido en los medios durante algún tiempo.

“Sí, han estado en guerra desde el levantamiento, el ejército hace incursiones en aldeas y mata a mujeres desarmadas, niños y ancianos, mientras todo lo que ellos quieren es autonomía, el reconocimiento de derechos indígenas y el final de la represión. Bueno, y del capitalismo también.”
“Y por eso llevas puesto esto.”
‘Sí. Provoca la pregunta. Como se ha demonstrado.”
“Es verdad.”
¿”Sabes? Vamos a recibir café Zapatista muy pronto.”
“Sería ‘tan’ chulo.”
“Molido y tostado allí. A diferencia del café de Perú, que viene verde y crudo y se tuesta, y se muele, aquí.”
¿”Por qué no recibimos el café peruano procesado también, en vez de tener esta empresa normal aquí para hacerlo?”
“‘Porque una vez que se tuesta y se muele, dura muy poco, apenas semanas. En verde dura meses. Y esto viene en barco y a partir del momento en que deja los campos de café hasta que llega aquí lleva tres meses, entonces esto tiene que realmente durar mucho tiempo.”
“Hmm. ¿Y qué pasa con el café mexicano entonces? Viene en avión?”
“Eso creo. . El gobierno mejicano no permite que ningún café de Chiapas salga en barco de todos modos, quizás enviarlo por avión es otra opción. ”
¿¡”Por qué el gobierno hace eso!?”
¿”Para reprimirlos más, hacer su supervivencia más difícil?”
Paula quiso comprar el café Zapatista para apoyarlos. Y un pañuelo.
¿”Dónde has conseguido ese pañuelo?”
“de algún grupo de apoyo. Les hacen en lotes, y agotó. Ahora tendrás que esperar al próximo pedido y que nos los … suministren.”
“Bien”, pensó Paula. “Esto me dará tiempo para ahorrar algún dinero para esto.”
¿”Y tú, has estado en el extranjero?”
“Sólo en Londres, el año pasado, vi un poco en cinco días.”
¿”Qué tal?”
“Grande. Y extranjero. Pero me gustó.”
¿”Ahá?”
“Aparte del centro, el resto parece un pequeño pueblo, con casas pequeñas todas alineadas, todas iguales. Y hasta en el centro, había muchas calles abiertas, como, nunca sentirías claustrofobia por culpa de altos edificios que te rodean. Parece un sitio donde yo podría vivir.”
¿”Volverás?”
Paula miró a Josu muy seria.
“‘No sé, cuándo, cómo. Pero un día, un día iré a Londres y viviré allí, al menos durante un año. ”

Zapatist uprising view from the Parish

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The corridor was so dark it felt like it was in the basement. It was only when entering one of the rooms to the right that the huge windows facing the street could be seen. Still, strangely, the rooms were mostly colder than the corridor. At least when empty.
Paula mostly knew those rooms full of people, though. Especially right after her confirmation, although people began to stop coming to the meetings until it was just about five of them from the group of thirty that had started. Except when it was just two of them.
“What was it we were supposed to talk about today?” Asked Ara.
“I don’t know. I can’t take away from my mind what is happening in Mexico.”
“Yes, there seems to be quite big unrest, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” Paula expected a bit more of an analysis.
“I’m baffled and overwhelmed by so much information, I can’t quite make sense of it.”
“Well, the telly is good for showing people with big guns and their faces covered. I have read the paper a bit and I am beginning to understand.
“And what do you make of it?”
“Ok, it seems they are upraising against something similar to what the European Economic Community is to here. They have the Free Trade Agreement of the Americas, or something like that. Which seems to have roughly the same objectives as the EEC here.”
Paula looked at Ara and saw that she was following.
“With the difference that the only countries that benefit from it are the United States and Canada, and the only country that ends up losing is Mexico. So I kind of agree with what they are doing. They are already the poorest of the three and the other two are taking advantage. I’m not sure about taking up arms, the violence and stuff, but I do support the reasons why they are doing it.”
“Thanks for that. Good to hear about the reasons behind it, no one seems to be talking about that.”
“So I’d rather talk about that, than whatever we had on schedule, when the rest of the people arrive. Like, where do we stand in all this, as Christians.”
“You may have to repeat all that to them too.”
“I don’t mind. It helps me put my own thoughts in order too.”