Copyright © 1999 NLThomas
All Rights Reserved

CHIAPAS - For Mexicans, the Day of the Dead is a time to remember family members who have passed. Almost two years ago, December 22, 1997, the Abejas (the Bees) a Catholic-Mayan community of Acteal was attacked by paramilitaries who massacred 45 people. On the 22nd of every month, they hold the Mass, taking communion and processing to the tomb, a large building under which the massacred dead are buried, to light candles, pray and cry.

Compared to the monthly Mass, the Day of the Dead celebrated by the community on November 1, was even more emotional because two weeks earlier the community had received rumors that area paramilitaries would again attack Acteal on that day. Representatives from the 32 scattered Abejas communities, of which the Acteal Abejas are a part, had held meetings in Acteal to respond to the danger; they collectively agreed that all 32 communities would fast and pray for the 3 days preceding the Day of the Dead.

We as CPT, along with a handful of other internationals, were present with the community in an attempt to provide the Abejas with a feeling of added security.

At noon on the Day of the Dead, the community of a few hundred gathered in the tomb of the martyrs. Pictures of the 45 killed had been placed around the walls. The families placed rows and rows of marigolds in front of the pictures, along with food and bottles of pop-offerings to the massacred of things they had enjoyed in life. Candles were everywhere: standing by the pictures, lying over the flowers-hundreds and hundreds of candles.

The community fell on their knees to pray, and while they recited the Hail Mary and the Lords Prayer, the candles were lit. The room's temperature rose quickly, bursting three pop bottles placed too closely to the flames. Smoke from candles and burning flowers filled the room, adding to the tears already in people's eyes as they remembered sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers abruptly taken from them two years ago. Team-mate Pierre Shantz and I thought of our own families-sisters, brothers, parents- and we too wiped away tears.

Pierre could only listen as his friend Ernesto wept over the loss of his mother, two sisters-in-law, a niece and a nephew. Ernesto explained through his tears that the threats revived the horror of the 1997 massacre and made the remembrance more difficult. Another man, Emiliano, stood against the wall with his hands on the shoulders of his young son Geronimo and stared stone-faced at three pictures of his wife and two daughters, all killed. Geronimo, who lost fingers on one hand and has a badly scarred arm, also stared at the pictures.

Following a time of praying, grieving and tears, the mood changed to a celebration of sorts as the pop bottles were opened and food passed around. Everyone was given something to drink: I ended up with two half-liter bottles of Coca-Cola, Pierre ended up with three.

There was a subtle irony in the drinking of pop. To honor their dead, the families had used precious money to purchase products from companies that-along with a host of other Trans-national Corporations-have been clamoring for Mexico to embrace "free-market capitalism," which it did by entering into the North American Free Trade Agreement with the U.S. and Canada. NAFTA and it's detrimental economic effect on the poor of Chiapas was a motivating factor behind the Zapatista uprising of 1994 and the resultant split of indigenous communities into pro-reform and pro-government factions.

Acteal is a good example of this split: one part of the community supports the government because they seek the benefits that come from allying with the power structure; two other parts of the community, including the Abejas, oppose the government's agenda because the policies hurt all the poor. It was pro-government paramilitaries who massacred the Abejas of Acteal in 1997.

Drinking the pop supported the economic domination system that in part gave rise to the conflict, that resulted in the disintegration of the agricultural community, and which ultimately resulted in the massacre.

These implications, though, were not important-perhaps weren't even relevant-to the mourners. Their concern was to provide something nice for their honored dead, and to celebrate their community's continuing life.

The day ended with evening prayers followed by a brief time of dance. The community's catechists explained, "We have had enough of grief. Now is a time to dance and be happy."

But the threats lingered in unspoken thoughts moving through the community: "Today nothing happened. But what about the next day? And the next....?"

The Abejas continue to pray.