> > > The following is a letter from a Mexican grandfather who after > attending the Saturday march in Mexico City felt compelled to put his > feelings on paper. Although these are just one person's personal > sentiments, they express a generalized loss of fear that has increased > in the past few weeks as the people of Mexico take to the streets. His > wife, who is afraid for the family, did not want him to put his name > on this letter and thus it remains anonymous. > > Translation from Spanish by Elliott Young and Isabella Toledo > Silvestre > > Mexico DF, 11 February 1995 > > Dear sons, Dear Grandsons: > Today I have lived an historic day. Its climax happened in the > heart of my patria mexicana. I am euphoric, I should calm myself to > explain what happened. I have been perturbed since the day before > yesterday when Zedillo broke the cease-fire with the EZLN, claiming > the most stupid stupidities, supported by a group of businessmen > and reported by the mass media, headed by the extraordinary, > famous and always eternal con-artist of my sleeping Mexican people; > I am referring to the perverse Pharisee Jacobo Zabludoski, > complementing the manipulation, the beautiful, exquisite and subtle > Lolita Ayala. They make millions of submissive Mexicans believe > that the men who are in power are the saviors of the patria and that > they defend us from Marcos and the EZLN, who are responsible for > our poverty and misery, and are the universal supercapos of drug > traffickers and intellectual authors of the assassinations of Collosio > and Ruiz Massieu. > All of this has given me an uncontainable hatred full of > impotence. How can I unmask these evil people? I don't know, but I > know that it is very dangerous to denounce these beasts. Their spies > can eliminate us easily and invent a demonic history-- to live in fear, > in cowardliness. > With these thoughts I went to bed this day at 1:30 in the > morning. I have been sleeping very little, at five in the morning I > was awake, completely awake, I turned on the radio to Radio Red to > distract myself by listening to music. At six in the morning I hear > about a protest at 4 in the afternoon. The civil society invited > everyone to a march for peace in Chiapas which would begin in the > Monument of Independence and finish at the Zocalo. I suppose it > was to stop the war begun by Zedillo. It was very early, but I woke > up quickly, I took a cold shower intentionally. Before seven I was > ready with my sports outfit to meet my group of retired people to do > Tai Chi, but it was too early. My compaeros are all over 60 years > old, but none of them is yet 100 years old. The oldest is only 93. > When we finished our activities some of my compaeros realized > that I was tired and told me . . lean on that tree. I did it and I > recuperated very quickly. I appreciated their concern. Happily, I > told them about my plans to go on the march. None of them were > interested in the event, they sincerely tried to dissuade me from my > supposed mistake, how could I support Marcos who is worse than the > devil. I lost my temper and became rude. > The hour of the great adventure drew closer. Without asking > her, my daughter Ana Lilia accompanied me. We arrived late, the > march had already begun, we chose the student contingent from the > CEU because of their joy, flexibility, and youth, which is how I felt. > We marched, singing, running, stopping, resting our knees on the > pavement, the palms of our hands also, and our left leg flexing, we > pushed forward raising up and shooting off, running quickly, and > then repeating the whole process again. What a great experience to > have at my barely 70 years. > We arrived closer to the statue of Columbus, my daughter and I > sped up and passed diverse contingents, liking everything that we > saw. This day the sun was radiant and the city had the most > transparent air. We arrived at the majestic plaza of the Constitution, > the monumental flag giving us a loving welcome as it waved softly, > our hearts filled with pleasure, the sky a clear blue, with only a few > equidistant clouds on the horizon. > When we arrived the coquettish moon was already in the > plaza, but we were filled, and in love with MARCOS. The speakers > rose to the occasion, but Rosario and Ofelia, What women! What > courage! Groups continued arriving, unable to fit into the plaza. The > plaza and its surrounding shook with the sound of: > TODOS SOMOS MARCOS! > MARCOS SOMOS TODOS! > The moon was full, beautiful, and never stopped watching us. > > Your Loving Papa Pepe who also is Marcos. > > P.S. My decision to participate in this event was personal and > solitary, but my daughter and 100,000 spontaneous, courageous, and > intelligent Mexicans accompanied me. We are not few, despite all of > the disinformation. When I expressed my intention to participate > they told me that I was crazy and they are right, but the crazies are > a "chingo" and we are infecting more with the holy craziness, thank > God, we will get peace. > > > > forwarded by Elliott Young > [EMAIL PROTECTED] > >
