Showing posts with label global culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label global culture. Show all posts

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Green Shoots 5: Ever-Widening Circles of Response to Environmental Threat

Hermann Bellinghausen reports on Mexico's indigenous peoples for La Jornada. Several days ago, his article "Where the Living Jungle Lives" appeared. The story of an outsider's first visit to the community, "Sarayaku: A Journey Into the Heart of the Resistance", includes details and photos that enrich Sarayaku, the Kichwa community described by Bellinghausen. Links to relevant articles are provided below this translation.

"Where the Living Jungle Lives"
Hermann Bellinghausen,
One afternoon late in 2011, while sharing manioc beer under an umbrella a few yards from the Bobonaza River [flows into the Amazon] in Ecuador's Amazon jungle, José Gualinga wondered, What is the "living forest" (Kawsak Sacha in Kichwa, or Quechua). Here's how he answered his own question:
"A space of beings where we people elevate our physical, psychological and psychic emotions. For example, in August most of the people move into the jungle, not in a community, but into the jungle, in little houses deep in the interior. There the children, women, everyone, re-create, pick up their life. They go to see the Masanga, the mysteries. This strengthens you and makes brotherhood, unity and respect for the natural world" (Ojarasca, October 2011).
At that time, Gualinga presided over Sarayaku's Governing Council. Before and after, he has taken on various responsibilities representing his people in national organizations and before the world. The Sarayaku defeated an oil company and the government of Rafael Correa himself. They are living proof that it can be done. Bearing the voice of his people, Gualinga has traveled. He does not ignore the essentials of the global environment, or the poisonous honeys of the "first world" or the stinky breath of the leadership circles in Quito [Ecuador], but he knows that in his place life is better without poisons and in harmony with the natural world.

The Kichwas of Sarayaku pulled themselves together. They let the land speak, and they live as she says:
"It is sacred territory, one must not destroy it. The living jungle is also the place where the shamans and elders transmit their knowledge—the science of the jungle, how to know the trees, plants, fish, animals, orient yourself, dream, have visions. This is our science, the relationship with this world. A language of communication with the animals."
Gualinga spoke of the Amazonian indigenous project that goes against the grain of the capitalism that has historically ignored the indigenous people and their existential choices. It is long-term; it is for today and for when we die. This future defines the present. Not the opposite, like the non-neoliberal project that subjects the future to the present. Gualinga confided:
"This proposal that all nationalities of the center-south Amazon region are developing—the Kichwa territory is one border, and the territory extends all the way to the Achuar and Shuar territory. The indigenous territory is five million hectares [12.4 million acres; 19,305 square miles]. The northeastern jungle, Sucumbios, Orellana are already affected, but here the jungle remains well protected."
Now, four years later, the people of the Amazon march once again in the Ecuadorian distances [outside the jungle] to demonstrate their rights and their principle of existence in resistance to the populist-extractivist government of Correa (who has already had to legislate on the rights of Mother Earth).
"As the government expands the oil blocks, we propose declaring the living jungle to be sacred of the beings, where our life is constituted. We propose plans of life: managing the natural resources according to our vision grounded in a fertile earth, applying the knowledge of the peoples and the social behavior that make Sumaj Kawsay (Good Living in Kichwa; in Spanish Buen Vivir). Within that [proposal] we are going to use the natural resources for education, health and our own economy. The platform, the great vision, is to maintain the Sumaj Kawsay, where the natural world is not contaminated but free."
This way of thinking is winning significant battles. In Argentina, impressed by the examples of Bolivia and Ecuador, a Supreme Court Justice wrote "La Pachamama y el humano", Mother Earth and the Human Being (published by Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, 2012). Justice Eugenio Raúl Zaffaroni undertakes a legal, philosophical and humanistic review, from Kant to Monod, of man's relationship with the natural and animal world. Zaffaroni calls for working "intelligently" in the search for a "friendly coexistence" between man and La Pachamama, Mother Earth. On page 12, he writes that if they continue preying on the rivers, mountains and animals that live there,
"the planet is going to continue living. It is not going to end, but we are the ones who are not going to continue living, we human beings."
The most lucid indigenous peoples in South America are moving forward on a risky, but possible project. They have managed to set legal limits .... In a 2014 interview with Lobo Suelto [Unleashed, Loose Wolf], Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui declared:
"What we do is transform ourselves into a collective will of 'doing'. We always project ourselves toward the outside as collective wills that break the barrier between the manual and the intellectual."
In her criticism of the government socialisms that, including Bolivia, just don't understand the indigenous peoples, the relentless Aymara thinker said:
"We are no longer alone, since also accompanying us are a whole lot of critters and the Earth." ... 
Are we speaking of a dimension more humane than democracy? Spanish original

* * * * *
There is no more fitting way to close this post than by presenting the ambitious campaign sponsored by AVAAZ to establish in the Amazon River Basin the world's largest environmental preserve: 135 million hectares [333,592,265 acres; 521,238 square miles] of Amazon jungle. That's more than twice the size of France! The petition states:
"But it won’t happen unless Brazil, Colombia and Venezuela’s leaders know the public wants it. That’s where we [AVAAZ] come in. 
"Colombia has just said it is on board. Now, if we create a huge global push to save the Amazon and combine it with national polls in all three countries, we can give the Colombian president the support he needs to convince Brazil and Venezuela. All three leaders are looking for opportunities to shine at the next UN climate summit. Let’s give it to them.
"The Amazon is vital to life on earth—10% of known species live there, and its trees help slow down climate change by storing billions of tons of carbon that would otherwise be in the atmosphere. Experts say this reserve would be a total game-changer for stopping rampant deforestation. Sign the petition now, when we reach 1 million signers, indigenous leaders will deliver our petition and polls directly to the three governments."
* * * * *
Let me give the last word to Paul Hawken:
When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse. 
What I see everywhere in the world are tens of millions of ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world.
Still Curious?
  • Paul Hawken (2007), Blessed Unrest; website links to Video (5:45): Paul Hawken delivering core message about this nearly invisible, but powerful worldwide movement. Highly recommended.
  • "Los Kichwas Amazónicas Protegen Sus Territorios Gobernándose A Si Mismos" [The Amazon Kichwas Protect Their Territories By Governing Themselves], José Gualinga, Kichwa leader;
  • Chakana Chronicles blog:
  • "How You Can Help" (Video, 2:36; Spanish with English/German subtitles): Patricia Gualinga, Kichwa leader, sets Amazon struggle in global context a la Paul Hawken. 
  • Eugenio Raúl Zaffaroni (Argentina Supreme Court Justice), "La Pachamama y el humano" [Mother Earth and the Human Being] (Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, 2012).
  • Previous Green Shoots posts in Jenny's Journal:
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Green Shoots 4: Worldwide Social Movement Is Afoot, Under Radar of Mainstream Culture

When we moved to Mexico seven years ago, I recall idly wondering how we might be affected by living long-term outside the United States. For the first few years we were caught up in building some master of Spanish and becoming acquainted with the endlessly fascinating, complex levels of Mexican culture. We had neither time nor emotional space for thinking about it.

During the three years we lived in Pátzcuaro, we were especially attracted to Purhépecha culture. That interest, in turn, led us to explore in greater depth what anthropologists more broadly call Mesoamerican culture. We visited many, if not most, of Mexico's southern archaeological sites, all the while becoming increasingly aware of similarities between the linguistic and cultural groups we visited. Regardless of location, these groups share two major themes: a common cosmovisión, or worldview, and their profound relationship to la naturaleza, the natural world.

Meanwhile, disheartened by all that is not being done to deal with climate change, I had come to wonder if the relationship forged with Mother Earth by Mexico's indigenous peoples might be unique to Mexico. Fortuitously, I came upon the work of Paul Hawken, environmentalist, entrepreneur, and author whose influential writings have shaped corporate sustainability. Prior to the 2007 release of his book Blessed Unrest, the environmental magazine Orion published an article adapted from the book.

In that 2007 piece, Hawken relates that over the last fifteen years he's given close to a thousand talks about the environment. Afterward, people would gather to talk, ask questions and offer their cards:
The people offering their cards were working on the most salient issues of our day: climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger, conservation, human rights, and more. They were from the nonprofit and nongovernmental world, also known as civil society. 
They looked after rivers and bays, educated consumers about sustainable agriculture, retrofitted houses with solar panels, lobbied state legislatures about pollution, fought against corporate-weighted trade policies, worked to green inner cities, or taught children about the environment. Quite simply, they were trying to safeguard nature and ensure justice.
Arriving home from a trip, Paul would take out the cards, look at the names and logos, and reflect on their various missions. Then he'd put the cards in paper bags. Tellingly, he writes: "I couldn't throw them away."

Eventually, Hawken got curious: did anyone know how many organizations there were? His initial curiosity evolved into a "hunch that something larger was afoot, a significant social movement that was eluding the radar of mainstream culture."

Government tax census records in some countries enabled him to extrapolate the number of environmental and social justice groups. At first, Hawken estimated the number of environmental groups to be 30,000 worldwide — a number that swelled to 100,000 when he included social justice groups:
"Historically, social movements have arisen primarily because of injustice, inequalities, and corruption. Those woes remain legion, but a new condition exists that has no precedent: the planet has a life-threatening disease that is marked by massive ecological degradation and rapid climate change. It crossed my mind that perhaps I was seeing something organic, if not biologic. Rather than a movement in the conventional sense, is it a collective response to threat?" 
Hawken has a lot more to say—let me highly recommend Blessed Unrest—but consider these:
"After spending years researching this phenomenon, including creating with my colleagues a global database of these organizations, I have come to these conclusions: [1] this is the largest social movement in all of history; [2] no one knows its scope; and [3] how it functions is more mysterious than what meets the eye. 
"What does meet the eye is compelling: tens of millions of ordinary and not-so-ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world."
Hawken concludes the Orion article with these prophetic words:
THERE IS FIERCENESS HERE. There is no other explanation for the raw courage and heart seen over and over again in the people who march, speak, create, resist, and build. It is the fierceness of what it means to know we are human and want to survive. 
This movement is relentless and unafraid. It cannot be mollified, pacified, or suppressed. There can be no Berlin Wall moment, no treaty-signing, no morning to awaken when the superpowers agree to stand down. The movement will continue to take myriad forms. It will not rest. There will be no Marx, Alexander, or Kennedy. No book can explain it, no person can represent it, no words can encompass it, because the movement is the breathing, sentient testament of the living world. 
And I believe it will prevail. I don’t mean defeat, conquer, or cause harm to someone else. And I don’t tender the claim in an oracular sense. I mean the thinking that informs the movement’s goal — to create a just society conducive to life on Earth — will reign. It will soon suffuse and permeate most institutions. But before then, it will change a sufficient number of people so as to begin the reversal of centuries of frenzied self-destruction. 
Inspiration is not garnered from litanies of what is flawed; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress, reform, recover, re-imagine, and reconsider. Healing the wounds of the Earth and its people does not require saintliness or a political party. It is not a liberal or conservative activity. It is a sacred act. 
In Hawken's view, three intertwining roots make up this inchoate worldwide movement: the environmental and social justice movements, for sure, but — central to our interests — the resistance by indigenous cultures to globalization.

In Mexico, Miguel Concha, National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) professor and a long-time, highly respected human rights advocate, lays out the challenges clearly and succinctly: "Mexico's Ordinary People Struggle for Life, Land, Water and Work". More specifically, the Zapatista movement in Chiapas probably enjoys the broadest international recognition, but other movements are just as far-reaching and important. To name just two: communal actions by the Yaqui Tribe in Sonora (against diversion of water from the Sonora River—in violation of indigenous water rights—for industrial purposes); and community actions taken in seemingly lesser places like Cherán, Michoacán (Purhépecha indigenous community successfully claimed its constitutional right self-government under traditional Uses and Customs and, hence, to defend its hereditary lands from illegal logging by organized crime).

Hawken's idea of grassroots activism isn't a new theme for Jenny's Journal. In 2010, we wrote a three-part series titled 'Green Shoots' (see below) that explored the notion of community that is at the very heart of indigenous cultures all over the world. But a healthy sense of community is by no means restricted to indigenous cultures.

Green Shoots 3 recaps highlights of Bill Moyers' conversation with Grace Lee Boggs, Ph.D. in Philosophy from Bryn Mawr and a civil rights activist in Detroit for more than fifty years. Ninety-one years-old when she spoke with Moyers (she died recently, October 5, 2015, at age 100), Boggs talked about the cultural revolution she saw brewing in our country at the grassroots level. When Moyers asked her what advice she had for young people, she replied,
"Do something local and specific—it doesn't matter what it is, just start."
Echos of Paul Hawken—actually, Hawken would probably say that what's happening in Detroit is yet another spontaneous human expression in response to the global environmental threat. If they're not already on it, Hawken would certainly add Detroit's grassroots community organizations to his ever-growing list—now conservatively estimated at 130,000—of organizations contributing to worldwide Blessed Unrest.

Still Curious?
  • Highly recommended: Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest (2007); the book's website gives access to Video (5:45), where Hawken delivers the core message about this nearly invisible, but powerful worldwide movement.
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Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Mexico City: Reading Circle, Friendship and Bacalao

Reed and I are fortunate to have been invited to join a Reading Circle that meets one Wednesday a month, led by one of Mexico's best known men of letters. In the spirit of the season, for December he selected El principito, "The Little Prince."

Mexico takes the Advent season, the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, very seriously. The Saint's Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, Patron Saint of Mexico, is celebrated on December 12. Beginning December 16, Posadas, commemorating Joseph and Mary's Journey to Bethlehem, are held on the nine evenings preceding Christmas, during which devout families make a novena by reciting the rosary on each of the nine nights; in traditional communities, young people taking the role of Joseph and Mary knock on neighbors' doors and, rebuffed at every house, continue their search for an inn; all this is, of course, followed by neighborhood and family fiestas. Pastorelas are performed throughout Advent. Suffice it to say, not a whole heckuva lot gets done work-wise during the month of December in Mexico!

So it's not surprising that the five women members of the Reading Circle decided to get together the evening before the December meeting to prepare Bacalao, the dried cod stew that is Mexico's traditional Christmas Eve family dinner. What a pleasure for me to participate in a women's get-together!

Women Get Together in the Kitchen

As she greeted us, our hostess Ángeles handed us each a white chef's apron, and we got right to work. I learned how to roast tomatoes on the comal, the traditional Mexican skillet used to prepare tortillas. But I learned that the comal is also useful for roasting tomatoes and chiles poblano.

Comals toasting tortillas and a 'roast' of mushrooms, small onions and chiles.
Six-burner stove tops are not uncommon in Mexican kitchens.  
(Photo: © Alvin Starkman 2008, in
Authentic Mexican cuisine at Oaxaca's La Casa de los Sabores cooking school)
Roasting and skinning chiles poblano is a skill that has absolutely eluded me, so I was delighted to learn the tricks of the trade, as it were! Unfortunately, I was so engrossed with roasting tomatoes and peeling off their skins that I forgot to take a picture.  Fortunately, I found this photo of an identical, well-used comal on the Internet.

While I roasted and peeled tomatoes, Heidi set about dicing onions.
Heidi was born in Mexico, but her German parents immigrated to Mexico after World War II. Verónica, the young woman who befriended  and invited us to join the Reading Circle, is the granddaughter of a German immigrant. Our hostess, Ángeles, is Spanish-born and arrived in Mexico as the bride of her Mexican husband forty years ago.
The grandfather of our dear friend in Pátzcuaro, whose family roots are in Chihuahua, was a Mennonite from Switzerland. Two decades ago, my translator at Pemex who remains my friend, is Japanese-Mexican, whose grandfather immigrated to Mexico. Actually, now she's Japanese-Mexican-American, since she and her family live in Denver (her husband is a U.S. citizen by virtue of his New Jersey-born mother, who also came to Mexico as a bride and has now lived here for close to fifty years).
All of which reminds us not only that Mexico is itself quite a 'melting pot' but that national boundaries and ethnic identities are growing ever-more fluid.
Once the onions were sautéed and the tomatoes roasted, peeled and pressed through a sieve, they were added to the onions. 
Pureed tomatoes and onions simmer
While tomatoes and onions simmered gently, the other women set about picking apart the dried cod that our hostess had already soaked. Verónica and I undertook the task of dicing an entire bunch of flat-leafed parsley. The seriousness of this task is not to be underestimated. 

When I showed Ángeles my first attempt, she gave me a stern look, "Más fino," she ordered. When Verónica's first attempt received the same stern judgment, I offered to take over parsley-chopping to Verónica's evident relief. I found that by making four passes—turning the chopping board 90-degrees after each pass—the final result passed Ángeles' exacting standard. 
Dried Cod ready to be picked apart
As the photo shows, the meticulous work of picking apart dried cod is definitely best done by a group of women chatting companionably about other things. We learned about the experiences of adult children engaged in work and study outside Mexico: one is in graduate school at Harvard; another works for the International Monetary Fund in New York; still others work in Europe—in Spain and Germany. This is such a cosmopolitan, well-traveled group that our participation is not only special but a genuine pleasure.
Picking Dried Cod
Left to right: Ángeles, our hostess; Heidi, reaching for more dried cod;
Emmy, listening intently to Verónica, who invited us to join the group.
With the cod well picked, the conversation turned to cooking. Ángeles brought out treasured cookbooks. In addition to her well-worn Spanish cookbook, to my surprised delight, equally well-worn copies of Julia Child and The Joy of Cooking were part of the trove!
Ángeles sharing her Spanish cookbook with Emmy
The women's international palate is quite impressive.
 Bacalao: Ángeles added small, boiled potatoes, Spanish green olives,  and the
entire bunch of finely chopped parsley to the simmering base of onions and tomatoes.
When all that remained was for the Bacalao to sit overnight to let the flavors marry, we chatted some more before calling it a night.

Reading Circle

The next evening we arrived at 6:00 PM for the Reading Circle. When we walked in, the buffet table was already set up for our cena, supper, which we would enjoy after about an hour of discussion.

Everyone was there: Ángeles, our charming Spanish-born hostess; Emmy, English teacher and perspicacious wife of a professor of philosophy at an elite Mexican university; Heidi, nutritionist, source of spirited, no-nonsense insights; Verónica, gregarious attorney specializing in Family Law and networker par excellence; Aureliano, delightfully cultured retired businessman; husband Reed, and Eusebio Ruvalcaba, 'el profe', the professor, the Reading Circle's leader.

Mexicans make free use of titles and nicknames; el profe combines both. El profe wears his considerable erudition with a patient courtesy that nurtures the best in all of us.
Deep in Discussion (left to right): Aureliano, Emmy, Ángeles, Heidi (arm only), Reed
The group's discussion of The Little Prince was sensitive and insightful. As a group, we were touched by the vulnerability of the Flower and by el Zorro, the Fox, asking The Prince to 'tame me', then memorably describing what it means to be tamed. We explored the themes of attachment and separation and together we recalled the child, la niña and el niño, inside ourselves. At times, the comments were vaguely biographical, providing rare glimpses into the personal lives of our fellow readers.

At the break, the Bacalao commanded the place of honor on the buffet table.
Bacalao in front of the Poinsettia flanked by plate of melon slices interspersed with prosciutto, another plate of cheese and crackers and another of butter cookies. Out of sight is a basket of deliciously fresh, thick-sliced Mexican white bread.
For dessert, I brought d'Anjou pears baked in apple cider (real cider, pressed in Mexico!), with a filling of maple syrup (we 'import' it from Trader Joe's), chopped walnuts, golden raisins, cinnamon and nutmeg—easy to prepare and absolutely delicious! Verónica brought scrumptious butter cookies ... such a repast!
Aureliano and el profe (right) helping themselves
Over the Bacalao, the conversation ranged far and wide, encouraged perhaps by the champagne contributed by Aureliano. When the group begins talking like this, we sit back and listen with rapt attention to viewpoints otherwise inaccessible to us.

So enjoying a communal supper with new friends, we ushered in the Holiday Season in Mexico. In the same spirit, to all of Jenny's readers:
Season's Greetings With Warmest Good Wishes for a 
Healthy and Fruitful New Year!
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Sunday, May 13, 2012

Max Returned to His Room: a Eulogy for Maurice Sendak, from Mexico

Maurice Sendak, author and illustrator of children's books, famous for, among other things, "Where the Wild Things Are", died on Tuesday, May 8 at age 83. His legacy? Books. Books for people. Here is a eulogy from Mexico, written by Jorge Flores Oliver. 

Also known as 'Blumpi, Flores Oliver is an illustrator, drawer of comics, essayist and culture journalist. He has been published in many Mexican newspapers and periodicals. He has a blog of his comics at http://sarcomic-strips.blogspot.mx/ 
by: BLUMPI

Milenio: Jorge Flores Oliver:

After a day's work, Mary Joseph, my three-year old daughter, when not asleep, hopes that for at least a few minutes she can continue with any of the activities with which she is entertaining herself. She can be playing with the dogs, painting or playing soccer. Or reading. Like Olivia, the little pig created by Ian Falconer, she takes four or five books in her hands and pretends to read them all. I, like Olivia's mother, negotiate with her until I convince her that she only read one or two. To see her running toward my room with a book under her arm is one of the scenes that produces the greates pride in me. And also that she does not like Disney princesses. Sometimes one of the books she chooses is 'Where the Wild Things', a book that at first disconcerted me, but which helped me learn to appreciate the different.

'Where the Wild Things Are´ (1963) is a difficult book. It doesn't begin as books often begin, but in an abrupt manner, a bit like the tales of a young child who daydreams and invents stories. It's a challenging book. I bet many parents are startled and do not know what to do when they read it for the first time to their children and get to the part where
His mother called, "MONSTER!" 
and Max said "I will eat you!"
And I also bet that, in many cases, it is the first and last time they open that book. Thus it is that the literature of Maurice Sendak transgresses in a special way. Sendak leads you to see things from a perspective that is hardly traditional, fulfilling what he said to Steven Colbert in an interview just earlier this year: "I do not write for children. I write," What this statement implies is that he wrote with all the obstacles and all the facility that could occur to him, because his readers are not idiots.

That's a lot of respect to have for the reader, but no pity. Because, as he explained to Spike Jonze, "I don't believe in children; I don't believe in infancy; I don't believe in this demarcation, "Oh, you ought to say this to them! You ought to say that to them." These are the words of Sendak in a part of 'Tell Them Anything You Want: A Portrait of Maurice Sendak,' the documentary that--oh, damn chance (or life, or luck, or death), was produced by the likewise recently deceased Adam Yauch.

But Sendak elaborated this theme of childhood a bit more in a conversation with Art Spiegelman (hey, I've already written too many articles about him, so I'm not going to go back and say who he is). Published in 1993, in The New Yorker, it is presented as a comic drawn by the two artists, who walk near Sendak's country home in Connecticut and carry on a talk about the creative process and children's books. "CHILDREN are cannibals and psychotic; They vomit on you with their mouth!" exclaims Sendak, but before arriving at that, this dialogue occurs:
MS: Books for children ... books for adults ... that is nothing more than marketing. Books are books! 
AS: I suppose so. But when parents give their children 'Maus', my book about Auschwitz, I think it is child abuse ... I want to protect my children! 
MS: Art, you cannot protect children ... they know everything! ... In fact, childhood is deep and rich. It is vital, mysterious and intense. I vividly remember my own childhood ... I knew terrible things ... but I knew that the adults ought not to know ... because it would scare them.
• • •

What did Sendak know? He knew of death. He knew, too, that sometimes there is nothing more to do than disappear, to close the door of mother's house behind you, to embark to an island inhabited by wild things and not return until they bring dinner to your room. These are the things that children do, they walk around the house wearing outlandish pajamas, naked, scaring the dog, shouting: "I don't care!"

• • •

One minute you're alive and the next, not. One minute your parents are at your side and the next, someone has eaten them and, in the next, three cooks are baking you, and the next you're celebrating your birthday. The title of the documentary by Spike Jonze sums up all this. Children (such as Pierre, Max and Mickey, protagonists of Sendak's books) have to know everything, because they understand and are not idiots. "Tell them what you want. If it´s true, tell them."

What do children do? To what are they devoted? You have to take a look at Sendak's alphabet book "Alligators All Around". Some examples, F: Forever fooling, P: Pushing people, U: Usually upside down, T: Throwing tantrums. But all these are activities that not only children do, we all do, including alligators.

Sendak was a complex child: sickly, homosexual and Jewish, and he lived traumatized by events he encountered in his childhood, one of them, the death of much of his family during the Holocaust. But to live without vital worries does not produce good art, or it produces bloodless art. At the age of four he found out about the sad case of the kidnapping of the 20 month-old son of aviator Charles Lindbergh, who was kidnapped and was not found until two months later, dead, with a fractured skull, near the house of his parents. Childhood terror.

But Sendak, rather than hide it, revealed it (albeit partially, we'll see why). If children are rebellious, relentless, cruel, nasty, arrogant and difficult, rather than sweeten the reality, he displayed it as it is. If his character Pierre walks around naked through the "Night Kitchen", it is because "children are not only learning about their body, but adjusting themselves to it." Sendak unveiled partly because he never dared to come out of the closet. Instead, he always tried to appear to be very heterosexual (if that's possible) in the eyes of his parents.

Maurice Sendak (1928) died in a hospital in Danbury, Connecticut, at 83 years of age, after suffering a stroke. In his home you can see a cardboard cutout of Barack Obama standing, together with his collection of Mickey Mouse toys. Obama paid ​​him one of the best compliments there could be: reading to a group of children "Where the Wild Things Are" (if George W. Bush had done the same, it would have been an insult; moreover, he would have read it standing on his head. Well, as we know, this is the world upside down).

God bless milk and God bless Maurice. Spanish original. Translated by Reed
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Monday, April 11, 2011

Mexico Traditions: ...and Pepsi!

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It's hard to believe, but the third anniversary of our arrival in Mexico is fast approaching. I remember it well!

As we rode toward our new life from the airport towards Morelia (state capital of Michoacán), we were confronted by a huge red, white and blue sign painted on a pristine white wall: “Bienvenidos a Michoacán ... Pepsi.”

I was in trouble. I took a deep breath.

As a corporate consultant, my last U.S. client was...Pepsi. Projects often fail to start or finish as planned. This one was no exception. When we arrived in Morelia, the project was in full swing—much to the deep distress of my beloved husband who was furious that I would be work-distracted as we began settling into our new home in a new culture and speaking a new language.

Once we were comfortable in our rented house, we began to poke around. Reed's distress sensitized him to see the Pepsi logo all around. But, honestly, it wasn't hard. Pepsi really was "...everywhere you want to be."

The familiar red, white and blue circular logo was painted on wall after wall along the streets and highways of Michoacán. Awnings, tables and chairs in restaurants sported the Pepsi logo. Sadly, even our favorite neighborhood family restaurant wasn't exempt. The Pepsi logo was visible in every pueblo we visited on the meseta (rural highlands) and on the islands in Lake Pátzcuaro.

Pepsi at feet of Purhépecha woman in traditional dress

Pepsi showed up on the back of shirts worn by deliverymen bringing Santorini bottled water to our house. Obviously the deal is, "We'll paint your wall or donate table, chairs, awnings if you'll display the Pepsi Logo." It is impossible to escape Pepsi in Mexico. 

One day Reed looked down the driveway to see a Pepsi truck improbably parked on the berm about fifty feet away from our front gate. Deliveries were in progress across the street to our neighbor's tiny convenience store—really nothing more than a window counter open to the street. When I heard Reed's anguished cry of protest, I feared for our marriage!
In front of our gate—¡Qué barbaridad!
Before arriving here, I hadn't thought much about how the U.S. and Mexican economies relate to each other. So these statistics surprised me:
  • Some 18,000 U.S. corporations do business in Mexico.
  • Ninety percent of Mexican exports—oil, manufactured goods and agricultural products—go to the U.S.
  • Fifty percent of Mexican imports come from the U.S.
  • U.S. banks own Mexico’s largest banks.
  • Kansas City Southern Railroad owns the line that runs past our house from the Pacific port of Lázaro Cárdenas to Mexico City.
  • Mexico’s largest sources of income are from the sale of oil to the U.S., tourism and remittances—money sent home to families in Mexico by family members working in the U.S.
The impact of the U.S. economy on the Mexican economy is profound—a reality captured by this Mexico dicho, saying — “When the U.S. sneezes, Mexico gets pneumonia.”

The first time I saw the string of U.S. box stores lining a prize stretch of highway into Morelia, I gulped — Where am I? This isn’t Mexico! But, yes, it is Mexico today. 

CostCo, Home Depot, WalMart, Sams Club, Sears, Office Depot and Office Max all have Mexican presence. But that’s not all. Side-by-side with U.S. companies are Mexican-owned box stores imitating and extending the U.S. retail business model.

Then there’s the impact of U.S. popular culture on Mexican culture. Like every other region on the planet, U.S. popular culture makes a strong statement in Mexico: music, movies, television series, magazines, youth fashions, electronics….


Purhépecha women in traditional dress reach for cellphones from the front of their embroidered blouses. 

Reed photographed this Purhépecha teenager paddling a traditional canóa (canoe) with an iPod firmly in his ear.


In the face of such raw economic and political power, Mexican President Porfirio Días put into words the sentiments of many Mexicans toward their powerful northern neighbor—"Poor Mexico: So far from God; so close to the United States."

In time, of course, the Pepsi gig ended, and we established a life-affirming rhythm at la Casa Mariposa. But to this day Pepsi remains somewhat of a family sensitivity. 

This is the background, then, for my coming across Craig "Cisco" Dietz's account of the day he and Xun, his gardener and a Maya shaman, set out to purify the Temezcal (sweat lodge) they had constructed together using traditional tools and materials in the backyard of Cisco's house in San Cristóbol de las Casas (Chiapas State). Cisco's account exemplifies the cultural curiosity that we cherish while giving us a chance to glimpse traditional Maya beliefs and customs.

Culturally threatened since the arrival of the Spanish five hundred years ago, Mexico's surviving indigenous populations have demonstrated creativity in preserving their traditional ways of life. They persist in finding ways to adapt modern realities and resources to their traditional customs. Often the results represent important new ideas for sustainable living.

Reading Cisco's account, I couldn't believe my eyes. Among the objects used in this traditional purification rite, Cisco lists the objects that Xun brought: Posh (traditional Maya brew), Pepsi, hunzio, candles, fresh rainwater and Xun’s history, of the continuance of traditions of Chamula....

Yes, you read correctly, here in an ancient Maya rite of purification was...the ubiquitous bottle of Pepsi!

But don't let me spoil an opportunity for you to experience this account first-hand. Here's the link: Cisco Dietz http://www.mexconnect.com/articles/725-temezcal-y-xun-the-sweatlodge.
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