Ramblings

from the tip of my tongue and the thicket of my thoughts,
tumble these confessions and expression, which time has taught

http://thicketofmythoughts.blogspot.com

because I also feel the need to express the wanderings of everyday life where ever it may be experienced, not just on overt adventures. expression that is mostly for my own sanity, and a bit of my own vanity. enjoy.

love,
a.s.m.



p.s. my new cell phone number (269)267-9102

Finally I get the chance to check out New Orleans and will be there until the 19th of December. If the weather permits, my train should be rolling into Ann Arbor on the evening of the 20th of December of 2007. New Years I will be in Kalamazoo! Seth & May, GSBG, Steppin In It are playing at the State Theatre.

You can contact me via my mom Terra: 616 902 29 77

Looking forward to seeing beautiful faces of the ones I love.

Finally I am heading north again.

México, Distrito Federal, I once despised you and thought you were dirty and your sprawling maddness nearly sickened me. Little by little you have won my heart. Maybe I will see you again soon.

Love,

Mollie Star

Buenas tardes comp@as,

Hoy por la mañana me desperté en el plantón fuera de Los Molinos de Las Flores. Hoy es mi cumpleaños, cumplo 24 años y me ha dado muchísimo gusto estar aquí en el plantón con ustedes aunque no saben que aquí estoy.

Anoche mientras pintabamos gargolitos, estrellas rojas, caras de Ché y de Zapata sobre unas bolsas para vender, un compañero nos leía la carta que escribieron ustedes con la lista de cositas que a uds. les gustaría conseguir. Me torturaba estar tan cerca sin tener la capacidad de darles todo incluyendo el sol, el viento, la vista del cerro al amanecer, un trabajo, un abrazo, una canción, pasta de dientes, etc, y por supuesto la libertad. Aunque to les puedo dar todo eso, les doy mi solidaridad y esperanza. También compartiré mis experiencias y lo que he aprendido con mis comp@s del norte con el desea que con más orejas escuchando, luchamos junt@s para la justicia y libertad.

Hace un año y medio yo empecé escuchar un cuchicheo de algo muy grave pasando en un pueblo al sur se llama San Salvador de Atenco y de ahí comenzó unas investigaciones. Buscó mas profunda en que había pasado el mes de Mayo del 2006, el entorno que provocó y alimentó el conflicto, incluido los proyectos de mega-infraestuctura que pertenecen directa y indirectamente al Plan Puebla Panamá y tratados de libre comercio en las Américas. Pero fue hasta que vi un documenta, se llama Romper el Cerco, que me afectó tan profundamente la gravedad de la brutalidad y injusticia de lo que pasó aquí. Ver Romper el Cerco fue muy impresionante pero lo que me asombró más me pasó después cuando, con mi corazón roto, vi a tod@s l@s comp@s saliendo de la sala de proyección con los ojos rojos, húmedos y perdidos.

Me regalaron una copia del documental para añadir a la biblioteca de nuestro cubículo de activismo estudiantil en la Universidad de Michigan Occidental. Lo ocupamos el documental varias veces como herramienta para hablar sobre la opresión del militar, policía y otros esfuerzas estatales, también para hablar sobre asuntos del imperialismo corporativo y proyectos de infraestructura y carreteras en las Américas.

Luego junté a toda mi familia para ver el documental y fue una noche muy fuerte para nosotr@s. Mi hermana mayor lloraba, mi hermano menor gritaba groserías a las policías y mi mamá se cayó dormida... pero ella siempre es así y luego a ella le explicamos todo cuando se despertó. Pero lo mejor de todo fue el dialogo que nació esta noche entre mis hermanos y yo sobre lo que tiene que ver con la globalización, desarrollo, desempleo, tratados de libre comercio y cosas que nunca habíamos ocurrido discutir.

Mi familia y yo compartimos mucha esta noche y ahora queremos compartir también con ustedes nuestro amor, solidaridad y esperanza. Queremos que ustedes sepan que hay gente en todas partes del mundo vigilando, pensando en ustedes y compartiendo la lucha con ustedes. Luchamos para que ustedes vean la luz de libertad tan pronto que posible. Suerte en las audiencias del viernes que viene. Avísenme si pueda ofrecer algo, estoy a su servicio.

Con un abrazote solidario y todos los colores más brillantes de la esperanza,

Amalia

Demonstration: El pueblo Unido


Stepping out the doors of the US Embassy in México, D.F. in the colonia of Cuauhtemoc, I hear the familiar call of "¡El pueblo unido jamas será vencido!" I follow the sounds a couple blocks down Paseo de Reforma finding myself surrounded by campesin@s, the majority wearing white hats typical of the state of Puebla. As I arrive some 500 campesin@s organize themselves in the street, while the state police form a line along the sidewalk and at 12:00 noon the marching begins. From the corner of Paseo de Reforma and Insurgentes to the final destination, La Residencia Oficial de Los Pinos, the mexican version of the White House commonly know as Los Pinos.

"We represent various people of Puebla, Oaxaca, Chiapas and the state of México," says the voice springing from the bed of a pick-up filled with speakers. "Today we are demonstrating for the poor and for our communities."

"The Free Trade Agreements have marginalized the price of our products, making us poor. Our homes are rich with resources, but these resources are controlled by others. The Free Trade Agreements are supporting international corporations and not the people of México. We are questioning these policies that marginalize us. We are the original people of this land. We are the real mexicans."

"We are here becuase our situation has not changed for the better. We are here to bring light to the injustices in our regions, injustices against the poor who haven't committed any crimes. In Puebla, Oaxaca, Chiapas, Atenco; we will continue to remember what has happened here because we belong to these pueblos."

The men and women of all ages march along Insurgients, one of the longest avenues on the planet, people of all ages Children bounce with excitement at their new surroundings, elders push on already tired, weathered with years of hard work and struggle. Late comers clamor out of the old tour buses that brought them from hours away to practice their freedom of speech in the capital city.

"It's not worth their pain, what they're doing today, because there are so few of them," comments an undercover state security agent standing beside me. "There are 100 million of us here in the city [México, Distrito Federal]. We've seen mass marches 50 thousand people and more, and that wasn't even enough. No one will even notice them today."

"These protesters are fighting against the Free Trade Agreements because they hurt the campesinos by paying so little for their products. What happens is, the exports from the US arrive here at such low prices that mexican farmers are forced to lower theirs or stop producing."

"But these Free Trade Agreements are international policies that don't have anything to do with the common people. These policies work from the top down, they don't come from below up."

The plain clothes security agent follows the crowd as I stand on the corner of Reforma and Insurgentes, pondering the irony of these crossroads.

My Extra-ordinary Embassy
Wednesday, 28th of November, 2007

Today I am heading to the U.S. Embassy in México, D.F. to take care of a legal mess and get a Waiver of Dow Interest, what ever that is, notarized. The embassy is plain off-white, 6 or 7 stories and nearly the whole block is enclosed in a 20 ft tall sturdy blue metal fencing barricade.

No Fóto signs litter the walls in and out. They confiscate my camera and my blue lighter.

To get my Waiver of Dow Interest notarized I pay $330 pesos. At the Portland Federal Credit Union I think it might be free.

One smiley, lazy eyed woman sits in the waiting room of the notary's office, room 101 on the second floor. She giggles and says I ought to sign in. There are 5 previous entries on the list. Her's says "documento" so I write the same after my name. The first entry says "to get paperwork to marry a guy who lives here." I laugh out loud.

When I make it to the bottom of the stairs they return my camera. Handing me the lighter, the security man repeats, azul, azul, azul, mocking my accent... pinche-pendejo-hijo-de-la-chigada-véte-al-diablo.

I ask one of the heavily vested, armed guards may I get a picture of my embassy as a souvenir. He frowns and says, "Maybe from across the street."

Across the street sits Elvira Arellano beneath a large white tent. She is on the 13th day of a hungerstrike; a peaceful protest. Her demands are as follows: Stop raids and deportations; Stop the separation of families; Stop the "No-Match" letters; Legalization Now!

Elvira Arellano has already collected over 200 signatures backing her up and will send them indoors at 2:30 pm today to be presented to Harry Reid, U.S. Senator from Nevada and Senate Majority Leader, who is currently visiting the Distrito Federal.

Arellano's message to both governments is, "You have left millions of families to live in fear. You have unleashed a movement of hatred against us. It is time you do your job and fix our broken immigration law."

According to a leaflet handed out at the site of the hunger strike Arellano is putting pressure on the Mexican government to defend the rights of undocumented citizens and their citizen children in the United States.

"I believe that the Mexican Government should suspend all negotiations with the United States over trade and national security until the United States fixes its broken law and treats our people with dignity."

yo, todo bien. por fin, salí de la playa y estoy en el df por nuevo. cada vez que me encuento aquí siento más en casa. estoy ahora viviendo con jacqueline, una compa que deben de conocer.



Northward bound

It's the first time I've seen rain in months and I know I am homeward bound. Second class bus from Oaxaca de Juarez to D.F. The bus thinks it's a pogo stick and like a child again I am laughing. Sitting in the front seat I have a privileged view of the whiteness of northern Oaxaca. They call the white earth TEPETATE and it can be used as a cementing layer beneath the construction of a house, because when water is added it creates a sturdy surface.

The streets of Oaxaca are pulsing with blood, blood-type APPO, the universal donor and receiver of the Oaxacan pueblos.

I am halfway to the central de autobuses, ready to board the bus to México, D.F. Like the hermit crab I carry my home on my back, enjoying each last glimpses of Oaxaca a maze of a city that I have enjoyed for the last few weeks. Seemingly from no where appear hundreds of marchers in front of me. I step on to the sidewalk and watch for 45 minutes as they pass. Banner bearing, announcing the winds of change. Spray in their hands, graffiti, stencils, people of all walks of life, marching for their lives.

spanish:
http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asamblea_Popular_de_los_Pueblos_de_Oaxaca

english:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/APPO

Entrevista con Odíon García Cruz, 25 yrs.

under construction...

House sitting for an underground gringo volunteer collective, sympathizers of "el movimiento" and safe haven hide away for the persecuted and puts me on edge just slightly.