The Rockets of Zinacantan

When the rainy season arrives each May in Zinacantan, one can hear explosions and see small puffs of smoke rising from the hills surrounding this Tzotzile Indian village in the highlands of Chiapas. These sights and sounds have nothing to do with the Zapatista rebellion in southern Mexico, which pits indigenous peasants against the Mexican army. Instead, farmers from Zinacantan are launching small rockets toward the heavens, in hopes that the gods will notice their prayers for ample rain.

This ritual is one sign among many that hope still prevails over despair among these descendants of the ancient Mayans as their close knit community struggles to preserve their way of life while coping with the threatening changes brought on by globalization and civil unrest.

Zinacantan is nestled in a picturesque valley amid tree-covered mountains. At its center lies an impressive colonial-era cathedral. The women of the village weave colorful and intricately designed shawls and vests. The small homes, which lack running water, are plain but well kept. Despite the apparently peaceful setting, the seeds of the rebellion that has swept rural Chiapas in recent years are not hard to find.

Like much of southern Mexico, the villagers of Zinacantan have yet to see real benefits from NAFTA and the Mexican governmentís transition to a market-oriented strategy of economic development. Corn is a staple of the local farm economy. Yet NAFTA has intensified the competition posed by lower-priced corn from the American Midwest, forcing many farm families into destitution. The hilly and rocky terrain of the Cheapen highlands is no match for the flat, fertile expanses of the Iowa countryside.

While Northern Mexico, especially the border region, has attracted substantial foreign investment in maquiladora industries, very little foreign money has found its way to Chiapas and surrounding states. Yet when Mexico experiences international financial troubles, Southern Mexicans share the burden of higher interest rates and declining government services. What modest investment does take place in Chiapas is concentrated in extractive industries, such as oil and timber that take a huge environmental toll without creating the basis for widespread or long-term local prosperity.

Most of the residents of Zinacantan still engage in subsistence agriculture, raising corn, beans, chickens, goats and fruit. With each generation it becomes more difficult to squeeze a living from the land. The population growth rate in Chiapas exceeds 4% per year. In many cases, the same land is being subdivided into smaller and smaller parcels as it is passed down from parents to children. In other cases, communal landholdings have been undermined by legal reforms passed by the government earlier in the decade. Traditional village land is being purchased by wealthy landowners and integrated into large ranching operations. Changes in land tenure have forced many young adults from their villages to seek work in the urban areas of San Cristobal or Tuxtla.

Zinacantan has attempted to adapt to changing economic conditions. Village leaders hope that the charms of their breathtakingly beautiful valley and local handicrafts will draw American and European tourists, who fill the streets of the nearby city of San Cristobal. A weaverís cooperative has financed the construction of a small museum depicting the local history of their craft. A new cultural center provides a venue for indigenous theater and music. Lured by glossy brochures, a few tour buses have added Zinacantan to their itinerary.

Although the tourist trade brings a modest stream of much needed cash, the costs of this intrusion into village life are evident. Large, noisy tour buses pull up daily outside the church. Hopping off the bus, some tourists immediately begin snapping photos of passing villagers. Others brusquely push aside small village children trying to peddle gum and trinkets. Most attempt to bargain down the prices of already absurdly inexpensive, but high quality, garments and blankets. Twenty minutes later, the bus roars off in a cloud of dust.

Besides tourism and weaving, the townspeople participate in the market economy through the growing and selling of flowers. Yet the risks of small-scale entreprenuership are considerable. One local grower, Pedro, worries over a deadly fungus that plagues his mums. Pedro lacks the money needed to buy the detergents and chemicals that could save his crop. Nor is credit available to small farmers such as he. Pedro risks losing his familyís sole source of cash income.

Education offers one avenue to a better life for the children of Zinacantan. Yet the state-run school only goes through the sixth grade. Children play a crucial role in the family economy, sometimes forcing them to miss school or skip homework. Girls as young as five years old carry newborns perched precariously in hammocks slung across their backs while other children guide goats to pasture, feed chickens and ducks and haul firewood.

Indigenous peoples often suffer from ugly forms of racism at the hands of wealthier, urbanized and light-skinned mestizos. In San Cristobal, until recently, Indians were expected to walk in the street rather than share a sidewalk with a passing mestizo.

Publicly, most residents of Zinacantan support the PRI, Mexicoís ruling party. Signs and graffiti extolling the PRI are everywhere. For many, however, the decision to support the PRI is pragmatic rather than heartfelt. Only PRI supporters have access to food credits or the ability to seek justice in the local courts. Privately, many locals are critical of the PRI and some voice support for the PRD, a leftist opposition party, or even the Zapatistas. The PRI-controlled state government of Chiapas is notorious for corruption, fixed elections and the secret arming of right-wing paramilitary squads. Army patrols, ubiquitous in rural Chiapas since the outbreak of the Zapatista rebellion, are suspicious of indigenous peoples and serve as a threatening reminder of the potential for violence in this land.

Globalization creates both winners and losers. The residents of Zinacantan are among the losers. But they are not passive victims. Given a history of poverty and governmental neglect, along with the political turmoil that swirls around them, one might expect evidence of anger and bitterness among the villagers of Zinacantan. Instead, the people here display hope and determination. Their aspirations are basic: respect, education, credit and a voice in both local and national affairs. Most of all, the residents of Zinacantan want to preserve the dignity they find in their centuries-old way of life. Only in a more just and democratic Mexico than exists at present are even these modest claims likely to be realized.

While elsewhere in Chiapas, the Zapatistas have take up arms, the villagers of Zinacantan have pursued their own struggle through peaceful means. Yet the rockets of Zinacantan launched toward the heavens each May eerily evoke the sounds of war. How long before the percussion of bursting rockets is replaced by the staccato of gunfire? Only as long as it takes for despair to outrun hope.

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David Skidmore, an Associate Professor of Political Science at Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa, recently participated in a study trip to Mexico led by the Center for Global Education.