Four verbs dominated the discourse: to struggle, to suffer, to
organize and to work. Because when we struggle, we necessarily
suffer. But in order to suffer less, we need to organize
ourselves. Only in this way is it possible to work for the
liberation of the people. And we live for the liberation of the
people.

More than one hundred and fifty female and morena voices,
explained patiently to thousands of ears that listened with
happiness, admiration and respect. The date was from December 29
to 31 of 2007 in the Caracol ¨Resistance towards a new dawn,¨
more famous for its name of La Garrucha, Selva Tzeltal Zone,
rebel Zapatista territory. Delegates from the five Caracoles
presented their achievements in plenary sessions where, as many
of them say, ¨the themes¨ of work were:
• How the Zapatista women lived before and how they live now.
• What they did, how they did it to organize themselves in order
to achieve their rights.
• What are their responsibilities now.
• How they sustain themselves in the struggle.
• What changes they have now.
• How they struggle as Zapatistas girls and boys.
• Woman, and woman in the Other Campaign.

The different themes were broached by delegates that represented
the following: comandantas (suplentas and members of the
Indigenous Revolutionary Clandestine Committee, CCRI),
insurgentas (three captains of the Mexican Forces of Militia),
regional representatives or responsables, local representatives
or responsables, members of the five Juntas de Buen Gobierno
(JBG—Good Government Juntas), autonomous councils, agrarian
commissioners, health promoters and trainers, autonomous
commissioners and agents, directors and administrators of
collective work, as well as grassroots support community member
(BAZ) who introduced themselves in their capacity as: grandma,
elderly women, married woman, young single woman, Zapatista
mothers, girl compañeritas (little compañeras), elders,
translators, note takers, and those in charge of the sound
system. In total, there were 20 hours of plenary sessions (four
hours for each Caracol) with breaks for questions and rest.

It seemed like any typically Zapatista gathering were it not for
the fact that all of the men, including the media, were asked to
leave the auditorium on the first day, since ¨only women¨ could
be there. To ¨one compañero who is hiding behind a column¨ the
mistress of ceremonies asked him ¨to leave. Here it is only
women.¨ And nothing terrible happens. Ten or twelve cameras that
have come to film all remain ready on their tripods, so calm.
There is no lack of women to work them. Some doubted whether
they could. Today they no longer doubt. And they can.

On the auditorium´s stage is the control of the sound system and
the space is female. Also, on the benches for those who listen.
There are women from civil society who are so little used to
respect that they seem uncomfortable to be so comfortably
seated. Maybe they are the ¨self-marginalized,¨ a term used by a
Zapatista woman the following day, but who knows. In any case,
with the departure of the men, no tragedy occurs. The husbands,
sons, boyfriends, lovers or brothers must listen from afar, from
outside, or distract themselves by attending to the vending
stalls. Others did not even come, they stayed to take care of
the small children. That´s why among those convoked, there is so
much concentration, so many relaxed arms and so little pain in
the shoulders. As well, the waists breath well and there is an
abundance of free hands to take notes or take photos. The
Zapatista delegates come adorned with coloured ribbons on top of
their balaclavas: blue for La Garrucha, white for La Realidad,
red for Morelia, yellow for Oventik and green for Roberto
Barrios.

With the respect of always, we sing the national anthem that
never mentions us. Afterwards, the comandanta Susana speaks, she
who opened the way together with Ramona and who, in fact, comes
¨ on her behalf¨ to inform us, first, that she will never leave
her work, and, second, that ¨Ramona lives and that Ramona is not
dead.¨ And she is not the only absent one who is nearby. We
already have prisoners who accompany us all of the time. But
here too we also feel that ¨the fallen¨ who died in the struggle
are walking, the guerreras (female warriors) that fought for
peace, ¨all of the women¨ that could not come. The compañera
Yoana says that ¨we have to go and thank General Zapata,¨ since
¨ because of him we could know our right,¨ and she speaks with so
much assurance that one feels like turning around and looking
for the General among the men who listen from the back.

In this way this event is inaugurated, this event that has
different names simultaneously: Third Gathering of the Zapatista
Peoples with the Peoples of the World: ¨The Comandanta Ramona
and the Zapatista Women,¨or, First Gathering of the Zapatista
Women with the Women of the World, or for the the most
demanding, a combination of the two: ¨Third Gathering of the
Peoples… and the First Gathering of the Women…¨ at the same
time. Each one can choose for herself.

On the cardboard signs throughout the Caracol one can read the
following phrases: ¨In this Gathering men cannot participate as:
note taker, translator, presenter, spokesperson, nor represent
in the plenary on the days of December 29, 30 and 31 of 2007. On
January 1st, 2008, it goes back to the usual. Men can only work
in: cooking, cleaning and sweeping the Caracol and the toilets,
taking care of the children and carrying firewood.”

But one of these phrases cannot be true. We will see which one
and why.

Before
The days of slavery.
Dozens of rebel indigenous women explain how they suffered
before the armed uprising of 1994. But among the tales of the
horror lived with the bosses and among the stories of their
slavery, of their sub-human life, of their humiliation and their
suffering, those that affect us profoundly are those of the
abuelita (grandma) Avinia (from La Garrucha) and the elder
compañeras Eva, Gloria, Veronica and Angelina (from La
Realidad). Many of them speak in their material tongue and use
translators. In this way, we become aware of “How much
suffering! How much!” they had to go through with the physical
punishment that made them “pass out from the pain.” They would
tie their husbands up to trees for two days, naked. The women
were made to sit down on a sharp rock until their knees bled.
None of them learned to read or write because the finqueros
(ranchers) considered them to be animals.

They say that if it had not been for the founders of the EZLN
that arrived in the mountains of Chiapas more than twenty years
ago, “we would all be mozos”, the same as “our fathers and
mothers.” The stories of slavery are the same: human beings were
made to carry baggage when “there were no horses.” And it is
because the children of the bosses had to eat well in Comitán:
boxes of corn that had their heart and tips cut off, leaving
“ only the flesh.” Abuelita Avinia is surprised that a man can be
so insatiable. She tells us, full of indignation, that the
useless boss was not capable of going to the river to bathe,
instead one had to carry water in order to not inconvenience
him. How would this abuelita describe how insatiable a judge in
the supreme court is, a counselor of the IFE (Federal Electoral
Institute), a rapist of the PFP (Federal Preventative Police)?

These women who did not know the peltre [type of metal]
complain a lot, that everything was all mud. They affirm that
they were born in families that, for generations, “did not eat
sweets,” because the boss did not permit it. “Not even the froth
off of the honey would he [the children] to lick,” “they could
not even take a little piece of sugar cane.” Although, of
course, the cacique´s cattle could have their treats, like
licking salt calmly because it was “very well ground” thanks to
the skin of the indigenous hands. Among those present, few of us
had heard such a detailed and direct description of the right of
pernada [first night], of how the young women were raped with
the same naturalness with which the sun rises and sets. This no
longer occurs in the communities in resistance of the EZLN,
where the bosses were eliminated. But we know that this occurs
in many fincas of our country and that is why it still continues
to hurt. In each telling, what stands out is the cacique´s
obsession with hurting, exploiting, humiliating others, resting
at all costs while dozens of families lives are spent serving
him. In addition, “what one boss does, all bosses do.” It does
not matter if the finca is Del Rosario, Las Delicias, Porvenir
or La Codicia.

The comandanta Rosalinda tells us that the public security would
assassinate and rape the women who would organize themselves to
protest, until the information arrived that they could organize
themselves clandestinely and milicianas and insurgents were
formed. That’s why, it’s the same whether the boss is the one
who “dirties” their daughters, if his name is don Enrique
Castellanos, which “the elderly men put in some nets and hung
him” because they were fed up of seeing their daughters raped,
or if his name is don Javier Albores, who “ had a family with
his servants”. All of them were evicted from their paradise on
January 1st, 1994.

The history of the clandestinity.
Many years ago a group of men and women arrived in the mountains
of Chiapas. They went as teachers, as doctors. One of the men
presented himself one day in the community of Araceli, “Base de
Apoyo” (grassroots support), and it was “his task to explain the
clandestinity.” They did not know the person that arrived, but
Araceli says that he talked to them about their products and
their prices and then asked them “how long they would stand
living like this.” He left, then returned with the permission of
the communities. He spoke with more. He gave them a pamphlet. He
asked them if they were willing to struggle. He told them to be
very cautious. Then he advised them to set up
watches/surveillanc e. Then he explained “how we struggle,
together with who we struggle and against whom we struggle” and
he taught them what the word compañeros means. Then he told them
of an army that would struggle for the people: Zapatista Army of
National Liberation, and that the preparation was not only
political but also military. According to the comandanta Sandra,
" nadie quien lo supo, más que nada más los que lloran".

Maribel explains further. She tells us that in order to meet
together with those who come from outside “we would go as if to
fish,” but in reality they would go to receive talks in the
mountains, in the caves, below the trees, “very much in silence
and slowly,” at night, preparing “for the work of the struggle.”
Maribel recounts how there were film debates: “they would take
us to see movies about fighters from other countries.” Then
would follow the questions and the debate and this would “move
our hearts.” Sometimes we had to dig a hole in order to hide the
noise of the little motor that generated energy.

Some signals would be seen in the clothing: red, white, brown or
black t-shirt would mean that there was a meeting, and the
colour would indicate the place. Sometimes one would give a
strong grip of the hands and that was the signal. The first
insurgentas taught these women many things: “we learned to keep
watch”, as well as using weapons and doing “it all.” That’s why,
the older Zapatista say today, “we were capable of resisting.”
These women fed the founders of the EZLN more than twenty years
ago. The elderly compañera Veronica tells us that the tostada
(toasted tortilla) and pinole (roasted and ground sweetened
corn) was prepared “not in the day” but at night, because they
were clandestine before. But no more. Now they are prepared in
the day. The elderly compañera Angelina tells us that “they
sustained” the founders and that “they loved them very much,
they fed them,” but there were no paths. They had to move at
night, in picadas, from one camp to another. In those times,
Maribel explains that they prepared and took pinole, tostadas,
cookies, bread, cassava root, bananas, yams, sugar, salt,
squash. “What we ate is what they ate as well.” And they relate
how they organized “to sew uniforms.” Then came the uprising, in
which many of them as women participated, “and with that blood
we woke up.”

The conditions of women.
The Zapatista women tell of not only how the bosses would hurt
them. Before the days with the EZLN and even after the uprising,
it was their own fathers, their husbands, their brothers and
even their sons who would underestimate and undervalue them.
Only men would have fun; only they would rest. If someone
happened to be born a girl, her father would devalue her. If
some woman would happen to participate in the meetings, the men
would make fun of her. All indicates that the work that Ramona
and Susana did was titanic. They instigated the Zapatistas to
elaborate the Revolutionary Law in the years when it was cause
for laughter to see a woman in the struggle. This Law has been
enhanced from 10 to 30 articles, but the Zapatistas tell us that
they are still not public. As such, in this auditorium where we
heard for the last time Ramona’s voice, today continues to be
occupied only by women. In some holes in the wall or in the
doorway located behind the stage one can see cameras that enter
unmanned. From outside, they are held by strong forearms and
with marked veins, by those who so fascinate us. They are the
men who continue without being incorporated in the plenary
sessions, but who do not stop trying to take photos of this
space that today is not theirs. In a little bit they will be
allowed access as media, as long as “they respect us or they
must leave.” On the third day, all will be able to enter.

In any case, the work continues and the Zapatista compañeras
warn us: “we will be sincere in telling you.” Sometimes, when
there have been problems, “there are women who with all this
abandoned their work.” They are strong conflicts in the houses
because “our husbands would not let us go out.” They think they
will look for a boyfriend. As if it was not their right as well,
think I. In any case, it is sad. “There are a lack of men that
understand” the importance of the struggle of women. Gabriela,
one of the three captains that together with Elenita and
Hortensia represent all of the women that are “in positions in
the mountain in the Mexican Southeast,” she says that before “if
we were born as a girl, our job was to be a woman.” We could not
play basketball with the boys, nor study. In fact, she tells us
that a midwife charged less for a girl because she did not have
the same value as a boy.

In a recurrent and generalized reflection, these women assure
that before they were organized to struggle they thought that
they were not worth anything. Actually, when they became aware
that they were worth something they had to prove it to
themselves first. The men already had experience, they already
walked at night, but they felt a lot of shame in giving their
opinion, in speaking, in traveling, in deciding. Whether it was
in the fincas or in their own homes, they had to wake up at two
or three in the morning to go for the firewood, prepare the
coffee or make the tortillas early. Then they had to take care
of the children by themselves, carrying them to the river in the
clothing that was to be washed. Then they had to return carrying
everything with them, the clean clothes and the dirty children.
And water to drink. And the firewood. As well, the men would get
drunk and would beat their body and their soul. They say that
their exhaustion was enormous, their sadness indescribable and
their day very long. That their sleep was very short and they
had to wake up at two or three in the morning again to go for
firewood once again.

Today, these women have a very different exhaustion. They have
spent months doing intellectual, political and organizational
work, amidst a savage institutional and paramilitary offensive.
In fact, while we are in the plenary sessions, the military
flies above us. They seem nervous but satisfied. Their
compañeros support them with the logistics. Many are in the
kitchens, killing chickens and cooking. Now that “the priistas,
the orcaos and the oppddiques (members of different repressive
rival organizations) want to take our land from us” as if
nothing had changed, the young married woman Mireya leaves clear
that everything has changed, that she got married after 1994,
that nobody forced her to do so, that she has two children
freely and that her husband respects her.

Now

How they organize to struggle.
By the majority, the Zapatista women inform that there is still
a long way to go in order to achieve respect “and occupy in some
space the place that we deserve,” but Elise, the older
compañera, signals that “we already know our right.” Many of
those who have come to this singular gathering are the bases de
apoyo (grassroots support) of the EZLN. They acknowledge the
work of Ramona, salute Subcomandante Marcos “wherever he is” and
“ the insurgent troops” and thank the organization “that gave us
our place and respect.”

One of them uses the microphone herself, with much elegance and
seriousness: “The word goes to la compañera Dalia, that´s me.”
There is also one who presents her detailed Curriculum Vitae, as
Everilda, suplenta to the CCRI who invited us to this gathering
this past July. She says that she started her political
participation when she was ten years old. During 2 years and 7
months she was base de apoyo. Then she was named local
responsable, a position that she carried out for 1 year. Later
she was named regional responsable. “This work is now larger”
and she has been in it for 7 years, 1 month and 26 days which
“ taught her to struggle strongly.” She was then named suplenta
to the CCRI, a position that she currently occupies.

One asks, what does a Zapatista comandanta do? This position “is
not changed every 3 or 6 years” like the politicians. Everilda
explains: “we are not leaders,” but rather “we represent the
women in other to orient the compañeras.” The work sounds heavy:
“ they correct us and we correct the errors” of the people. Each
one of the delegates here present has a function that they carry
out within the organization. Above all, these functions about
which they gave us abundant information.

Those who work in the Juntas de Buen Gobierno explain to us what
their responsibilities are. They say that in August 2003, when
the JBGs were born, all of the members were men. Then some
compañeras integrated themselves. One of them says that “as if
the Zapatista peoples had not been aware” that there was women’s
participation in their struggle. In 2004 assemblies were carried
out in all of the villages and it was agreed that women would
enter for three years. So, there were more women. But it was in
2005 when they started to participate more in the Juntas. What
was their work? To receive “national and international people.”
To act as a bridge with them. To see the different problems that
the bases de apoyo present, or even those who are not part of
the EZLN. To distribute economic resources equitably. The juntas
have the control of the projects or donations, but they can only
present proposal to the people, “who are the maximum authority.”
They do not have rest, nor schedules, nor work days. They attend
to whoever needs something, 24 hours a day. Some of the women of
the JBGs are learning to use a computer. They tell us that “they
feel it is very difficult,” that they do not know how to read or
write, that that´s why they do not speak Spanish, that they
cannot walk alone because there are men that want to rape them
without caring that they are married, that many time their
husbands, their fathers and their brothers do not allow them to
go to work because they think they will do “bad things.” But
they know what´s to come: “one day we will take our rights and
our rightful place as women.”

In the Rebel Zapatista Autonomous Municipalities (MAREZ) there
are also women. Some compañeras explain that “before it was not
the custom that women participate.” It is because of this that
there is a limited number of women in the MAREZ. They say that
it is not because they are not allowed to participate, but
because they do not have the nerve to talk because they are not
used to doing so. The men are. The women have never had the
opportunity to be in this position, “much less, to give solution
to a problem,” but they trust that bit by bit they will learn.
Many criticize them because how is it possible that a woman go
out alone and does about all of the places. But they do not pay
attention to this. They say “because of this, we are here in
front of you.” Although they do not know how to read or write,
they exhort all present to not “be afraid to speak” because
these ideas are bad, they are those of the rich that want us to
be silent and exploited. But they know that “it is already time
to do something for ourselves and for our people.”

An autonomous agent like Elvia has the task of resolving
“ rumours” and all types of conflicts. Sometimes she has to send
someone to “jail” for 24 hours. For addiction problems there are
punishments of one month of work, and even expulsion from the
village. The agents’ work is to carry out justice, “and justice
is justice.”

Marleni and Lucero are municipal concejas (councilors) and they
know a lot, about agrarian issues, health and education. There
is a compañera for issues of transit, that watches over the
roads to make sure they are not problems, and another compañera
for human rights that prevents abuses by the autonomous
authorities. They promote the participation of women in the
weavings, bread, chicken and cattle collectives. If there is a
compañera that “is not given her right” by her father, her
brother or her husband, it is this conseja that goes to see what
is happening. If there are abuses and rape, she investigates
them. They say that “fear, shyness and shame” will be left
behind, because now they have their meetings “to make work
plans.” Then they say that the key to not disappear as
indigenous peoples: “We respect the majority. As well, we
fulfill what we say.”

It seems that the regional responsables have it tough. Amalia
tells us that “our work time is all of the time. It never ends.”
One one hand, they are facing evictions and pressures. On the
other hand, they have to organize commemorative parties like
that of March 8, or prepare collective work “in order to offset
the bad government´s economic war,” system which is “destroyer
of humanity” that “is screwing with us” and against which “all
of us have the duty to struggle.” The local responsables have
other tasks. Yaneli, for example, invited the campesinas to do
work, to organize themselves. The arguments she uses are
convincing: “The government wants to finish us off, it can cause
our death,” but “if we are organized,” the bad government can no
longer enter into the communities to give away “their crumbs”
with those programs that weaken the will to struggle. The local
responsables supervise the correct commemoration of the
following dates: November 12 of 1983 (arrival to the jungle by
the six founders), November 17 of 1983 (foundation of the EZLN),
January 1 of 1994 (uprising), October 26 (subcomandante Pedro´s
birthday), April 10 (Zapata´s death), August 6 (birth of the
Caracoles and the JBG), March 8 (International Women´s Day).

It is their responsibility to organize the parties, but also to
see how many will defend their villages. Female and male youth
15 years and above can do and receive “work of our struggle.”
The local responsables keep watch to make sure that the work of
the midwives, hueseras and those in charge of medicinal plants
is advancing. In the same manner, they support the political
studies on the part of women, in order “to let them know what is
our duty” as revolutionary women. Finally, if a collective fails
or if a village is not working well, it is their responsibility
to encourage them. Luvia informs us that the responsables do not
have a limit on their responsibilities, unless they take ill. If
someone is interested, in order to be a local Zapatista
responsable, one has to have the following characteristics:
“ discipline, honesty, good behaviour” with the compañeros and
the villages, “unity and camaraderie and suffering that they
have gone through” in the history of the struggle, disposition
to walk kilometers, leaving their daughters, sons and husbands
for days and capacity to attend meetings that last days.

In the collective work, the secretaries, the treasurers, the
female presidents take turns. They are the administrators and
coordinators of this work. Mari tells us that in her bread
collective they started with a loan of 1,000 pesos that an
organization gave them for the oven, as well as 495.50 pesos for
the materials that are used to make the bread. Then they set up
a haberdasher shop. They did not even know how to do the cash
out for the day, but they learned and they already have their
stores. For the chicken collective they gathered a hen for each
woman. The men helped them get sticks and make a chicken pen.
Now they no longer need to buy chickens.

What do the commissioners do? Heidi explained to us that they
say at what time they burn the milpa (cornfield) and where the
ditches are dug. They also keep watch on “the trees´grave” and
they are in charge of teaching the importance of reforestation.
As well they supervise the care of the animals and the cleaning
of the streams so “that they are in good conditions in nature.”
On her part, Daisy explains that one has to measure the
boundaries and present reports of expenses and pending issues.
One autonomous commissioner seeks solution to “all of the
problems and issues that arise with the compañeros and the
compañeras” regarding the agrarian issue. She says that before
“ we were afraid and were embarrassed” because we were women, but
not anymore.

To carry out all of these positions, the delegates insistently
signaled that it is only necessary to respect three basic
principles: unity, discipline and camaraderie. Nothing more.
That´s why when the health promoter Angelica clarified to us
that they do not recount their sadness with the objective of
provoking our pity, a woman from the public in the question and
answer period speaks for all of us: “Compañeras, we do not feel
pity. We feel envy.”

Women for Dignity.
Once upon a time there were some indigenous women artisans who
wanted to have a cooperative. They lived in the Highlands of
Chiapas and they were very alone because “they worked
individually.” They took their products to San Cristobal de las
Casas to sell. There, like the opening scene of Oficio de
Tinieblas (Profession of Darkness), their effort was paid at a
very low price. In a portrait true to Rosario Castellanos, the
women encountered coyotes, thievish intermediaries and abusive
buyers who lived off of their exhaustion. It was because of this
that they organized themselves in order to form a cooperative
society where they could all get together. On March 1, 1997,
they had their General Assembly of Women Artisans. There, the
first Cooperative Society Women for Dignity was approved and
their cooperative was legalized. The partners of this
Cooperative Society had a national assembly every year. The
directors looked over the work of those in charge. If a
compañera did the work well, she was re-elected various years
more. It is themselves who decide how they will work. Sometimes,
below a tree. Other times, in their house. A compañera tells us
that they suffer a lot with their children “because they did not
have a special place to work,” but that does not hold them back.
There are two compañeras representatives in each community. They
receive the pay. They leave twenty percent with the store and do
not depend on the men, “but much less” do they depend “on the
bad government.”

They also have their problems. Some compañeras have already left
and they are only in collectives, but not in the society because
they do not feel a lot of obligation. There are independent
organizations that have caused a lot of division, because, by
wanting to help, they take the products from the Zapatistas to
stores where there are people that receive salaries. The
struggle, then, becomes very hard and many cannot stand it.
Those who can withstand it tell us with satisfaction: “We have
shown that we can administer a Cooperative Society as women.”
The directors do the paperwork for the exportation of the
artisan products. The society has vendors. Sometimes they walk
eight hours alone with their daughters and sons, because they
need to go to the store in the centre of Caracol of Oventik. The
women take turns weekly. They pass off the work day and night.
Between all of them they give the vendors money for their
transportation costs. They also support them with beans. They do
not pay them, because as in all of the autonomous Zapatista
activities, “they are only fulfilling their work due to
consciousness.” They already have clients and they are not
offering their artisan products throughout the streets of San
Cristobal. Since fourteen years ago, this work of these
organized women, is, above all, a Profession of Light.

After

Health, education.
These women that take death lightly were not going to take
illness seriously. They were not going to respect ignorance. The
accounting that the health and education promoters and trainers
carry out are enough to shame any politician. Their presentation
is impeccable; their language, astonishingly clear for someone
who is not using their maternal language. The information that
the Zapatistas give us is extremely detailed, concrete and
translucent. If it was an earring, it would be filgrana (an
extremely detailed and well-worked type of jewelry).

The bilingual and trilingual young women that physically and
mentally prepare the next generations are the most confident at
the microphone. All of them, together with their compañeros, are
succeeding in eradicating illnesses that had become incrusted in
the Southeast of Mexico and that, for centuries, all of the bad
governments had refused to combat. In contrast to ten or twelve
years ago, we almost do not see children with their stomachs
full for worms. Rosaura explained to us that before ´94 there
were many premature births, placental retention, uterine
cervical cancer that was detected in time. The patients were
taken out “carrying them in cloth stretchers” just so that in
the bad government´s hospitals they did not have to attend to
them, because they are Indians. This health promoter says that
the women could not rest enough after labour, that they were
“ very made fun of by the men, humiliated, mistreated, beaten.”
All of us “suffered much domestic violence.”

With the support of the solidarity of civil society they
started to train themselves until they had their own Central
Clinic in Francisco Gómez. Here they do PAP smears, they
vaccinate girls and boys, they do consultations and talks about
birth control, they do ultrasounds and colposcopies and they
“ are already constructing a clinic specifically for attention to
women.” For this, many materials are needed. But Rosaura, from
La Garrucha, informs us that above all they need a compañera
“ volunteer gynecologist doctor… to train us” in issues of
reproductive health. If the compañera indicated is reading these
lines, she knows what she needs to do.

The education promoters and trainers are trained four times a
year for a month to teach the students the true education.
Abigail explains that the school is the “space where we can
share our knowledge,” and that this is done “with lots of
patience, without mistreatment.” Since 2005, many Zapatista
women receive training as trainers to, in turn, train new
trainers. These links are so solid that there is no way to
imagine how to break these chains of transmission of an
analytic, libratory, critical and according “to the regional
reality” education. Eugenia complains that before, even though
they went to school, there was no place for them to sit down,
“ we were totally set apart” because the children did not play
with them “neither together nor mixed up.” Her story speaks
about the past of tortures by the teachers, so current for the
rest of the world. Samanta, on her behalf, reminds us that “our
obligation is to continue forward as women so as to not return
to the humiliation, the depreciation and the oblivion.”

They all say that there is still a lot to do but that there are
already clinics and zone hospitals, that there are herbal
laboratories and gardens with disinfectant and curative plants.
In the Caracol of La Realidad there is a clinical analysis
laboratory, there is an operating room and various Surgery Days
have been programmed.

Education promoters like Griselda teachers the care of
biodiversity and explain the four areas of study: true history,
mathematics, life and environment and language. With humility
they tell us that have achieved only “part” of their dreams, and
they remind us that a giant one is coming: “Today our dream
continues and we dream with having our autonomous university.”
They present it like this, like a dream, “that every day we feel
it so close…” and they remind us that they are women in
struggle: “Here, where we are, we govern, not them,” because
here “neither the SEP [Ministry of Education] nor Calderón
governs,” here the people govern.

The pain of the other women.
In order to speak of the women in the Other Campaign and in the
Zezta Internazional, it is the turn of the members of the Sixth
Commission that toured throughout Mexico during various months.
Miriam explains that she went out to compile stories of pain.
She and the other comandantas recall with clarity what the other
women told them, the worker women, the farm worker women, the
migrant women, the “housewives,” the worker women in the
maquilas, the women from below. They say that “we know that they
suffer the same as us.” They were told about contamination, drug
addiction and assassinations. That one lives alone. That one
cannot but almost anything because one pays the rent and
electricity. All of this pain they transmit to us in detail.
Elisa offers us the best description of the owners of the
maquiladoras: “these vampires and rats that want to continue to
suck our work forces,” “these bloodsuckers” that have their laws
only to kill us of exhaustion drop by drop. Amanda, who opposes
the privatizations that they told them so much about, calls to
the campesinas to learn from Ramona that, “without knowing how
to read, write or speak Spanish struggled until her last
breath.” For her, she asks us not to sell the land to those who
privatize everything “for the benefit of the slackers,” of the
“ insects” and the “parasites” that feed off of our work,
“ because the campesino family is the most important form to
survive.”

When they speak about the problems of injustice that were
described to them by signers of the Sexta in all of the country,
the Zapatista women seem to gain more and more strength. Like
they know how much we need them. Elisa ends her intervention
exhorting us to have “good spirits, then, compañeras.” She says
that they are only some of the commissioners, but “if all of us
were to come we would not fit in one world.” Miriam already said
it: “the Zapatista women are neither discouraged nor tired.”

In the political-cultural act of one night, the Zapatista women
not only sing El corrido del aborto [The Abortion Song] that
speaks of the decriminalization as a right. They also go up on
the main stage to sing the song called The women in which “we
demand tenderness, love and devotion” in order to exercise our
right to live, to decide and “to be happy” while another
compañera sets off with “the nice poem” called The woman and
makes us feel important because “without you, it cannot be a
revolution.”

The Zapatista families.
If there had been a prize for oration the girl compañeras María
Linda and Marina would have gotten it. Neither of them had a
prepared speech. They spoke from the raw. María Linda said that
she was there “in order to “deliver in her knowledge clearly”
her “way of life,” to tell us that her parents orient her, that
they gave her what they did not have: the right to study, “the
right to go out for a walk.” She also alerted us: “These rights
that I have will be the greatest weapons that I have to defend
my life.”

The girl compañera Marina turned eight two days ago and she was
equally convincing. She already knows that she has the right to
do what she likes: to dance, to have fun. She says, “we, the
Zapatista women, are not accepting handouts” from the bad
government and that she feels “very proud to be Zapatista.” She
reminds us that “there is no reason to be discouraged” and
concludes: “these are all of my words, my dear public.” On the
other hand, the girl compañera María, from the Zotz Choj zone,
insists in reminding us of our “right to have fun,” one of the
most vindicated in this gathering, and she informs us that “we
are not going to ask permission to no one when we want to put in
practice” our rights.

What education have these girls received to be able to, in
contrast with their grandmothers and their mothers, transform
into pure pleasure what before was shame to speak? A large part
of the blame is due to their mothers and their fathers for
educating these girls and boys in freedom that, free as never
were their grandmothers nor their grandmothers, “they go where
their destiny and luck takes them.” Elizabeth, one of the four
Zapatista mothers that comes from the Selva Fronteriza zone,
tells us that even with lots of suffering “but we could pass
carrying our food and our hearts. Also, our thoughts,” all “to
not lose the true history.” The Zapatista mothers are in charge
of forming their daughters and their sons in such a manner that
they respect their elders, know the history of the struggle,
know why they have parties, understand what resistance is.

Here they tell us what voluntary paternity and maternity is. We
thought that it was having the number of children that we
wanted, but these women teach us that it is not only quantity
but quality because children need to have “their nails cuts, to
be bathed well,” give them a balanced and nutritional diet,
teach them that it is their right to rest and have fun but it is
their obligation to liberate their people. For Vanesa, “the
moment has come to rise up and raise our voice” as women because
“ just like we sleep with our men,” we also struggle. The
Zapatista mother Everilda warns that now no one can silence
them, that they will continue to speak “in all of the parts of
the world” to make it a place “where all of us fit with bread in
our hand.”

Brenda, from the El Trabajo Autonomous Municipality, has plans
for the women of the Other Campaign: “we do not want anything to
be left without struggling for their rights.”

************

When the plenary sessions with the reports of advances in the
five caracoles are over, the Zapatista women open up a space so
that those from outside can speak. But before, five comandantas
read five letters that were written by women in Mexico and other
countries. The compañera Everilda, suplenat to the CCRI for La
Realidad, read the words of political prisoners, Mariana Selvas
and Edith Rosales. The comandanta Elizabeth comes from Oventik
and reads a letters from the female prisoners of El Amate, in
Cintalapa, Chiapas. The comandanta Rosalinda, from La Garrucha,
reads the greetings from Gloria Arenas Agís, prisoner in
Chiconautla. The comandanta Esmeralda, from the caracol Morelia,
reads a text written by prisoners in Valladolid, Spanish State,
while the comandanta Concepción, from Roberto Barrios, reads us
a message the Sáinz sisters in Turkey.

Then the microphone is opened up to the national and
international civil society. Some speak. Others don´t. but all
listen. Here too there are great women that come from outside.
There is Martha from Chihuahua that has decades struggling for
the disappeared and that does not accept any type of privilege
or comfort when she travels. There is also Trini from Atenco, a
woman who has her family imprisoned and persecutred and who uses
the microphone with so much substance that two speakers blow.
There is Meche from Tláhuac, that not only puts dozens of people
to embroider her weaving of the Revolutionary Law, but also
climbs the Cerro de Huitepec with eight nails in her ankle
because the comrades are threatened with eviction. These and
many other women came to hear those who opted for following
Ramona´s steps, like the young single woman Adriana, who made a
call out “to all of the single women of Mexico and the world” to
show how “the single women” can struggle. Or the captain
Hortensia, who offer us an exchange in order to not become
discouraged in the struggle. She said that if we did not have
work to send the tools to the compañeras and they would send us
corn and products from the fields, that they would work for us.

The Zapatista women assure us that if the government thinks that
the EZLN no longer exists, that are so wrong. Here all of them
call upon us to organize ourselves and to struggle united for
our rights and for the liberation of our families and our
peoples as homage to the women that have opened the way, because
the comandanta Susana tells us that “they are dead but not dead.
They are here.” And it must be true because we go pretty full of
energy. Ask if anyone´s hands did not hurt from clapping so much
at the closing, from accompanying the Zapatista anthem with
music of our palms.

While the thousands of people that visited the caracol empty
out, the cardboard signs remain hanging with a phrase that says
that after January 1, 2008, all “returns to normal.” But this
cannot be true because, after this gathering of Zapatista women
with women of the world, here and in many parts nothing will
“ return to normal.”

For more information, for pictures and to listen to audios from the gathering visit these sites (in Spanish):

 http://zeztainternazional.ezln.org.mx
 http://mujeresylasexta.org

January 6, 2008.
Second anniversary of the death of the Comandanta
Ramona.

 http://mujeresylasexta.org
 http://enlacezapatista.ezln.org.mx
 http://zeztainternazional.ezln.org.mx
 http://otravancouver.resist.ca