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| Photo courtesy of Anne-Marie Litak |
I am on my way to my first set of interviews, in the humid back of a covered pick-up truck, leaving the town of Yajalon, Mexico. My hand grasps the rail as the crinkled dirt road unreels from under the horizon of the truck bed. I am squished between two large women, wearing white blouses that are embroidered blue and green around the collar. Men in large cowboy hats hold their belt buckles, staring at me from the adjacent bench and make jokes to one another. I am the only one who takes notice of the weathered signs, of the ELZN (Zapatista National Liberation Army), reclaiming these communities for the people. The
ascesor and I hop off the truck at a fork in the road, and wait for another
combi to take us the rest of the way to San Jose de Oxmicoy. We walk down a path, muddy from recent rains, as I ask about the current state of autonomous Zapatista communities in Chiapas, Mexico. The
ascesor describes of the EZLN’s continued presence in this region of Chiapas since 1994, but reassures me that they are no longer militant. After over a decade of bloody struggle against the Mexican government for indigenous equality and dignity, Zapatistas gained autonomy from the federal government. “They are just another town,” he explains, “but they maintain the fire (Son un pueblo, no mas, pero sigue el fuego).”
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| Photo courtesy Anne-Marie Litak |
We cross a creek, pass some men harvesting corn, and are greeted by a little girl, who runs ahead to fetch her mother. She invites us into the kitchen, which has a dirt floor, walls of bound wood, and a tin roof. She pours us each a cup of
pozol. The
ascesor takes off to a meeting, and I am brought to the nearby communal building, where the
solidarity group meets. The room is dark, enclosed on all sides by cinder block walls. There are a few benches, and an alter to the Virgen Guataloupe in the corner. Chickens wander in and out, pecking scraps off of the earthen floor. I hear my hostess yell the names of the four clients that I am supposed to interview, with no response. I offer to go find them (hoping that I may get to see where they actually live). My request is denied, with an assurance that they will come, they just live far away. I did not push it, as I could sense that they were worried for the privacy of their community. Fifteen minutes later, three of the women enter the room in a line. They seat themselves on the vacant bench, dividing us is the doorway that lets light into the room. I spend the next few hours interviewing each woman about her experience with Al Sol. They articulate the benefits that they have received, along with the criticisms that they level against the organization. They seem appreciative that I am taking such earnest interest in their experiences, and are hopeful, though skeptical, that their responses will produce changes in the program.
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| Photo courtesy Anne-Marie Litak |
We have been hired by Freedom From Hunger to conduct a follow-up evaluation of client food-security and case studies with the Chiapanecan MFI, Al Sol. While every interview has been very different, this description is typical of the scenarios in which we find ourselves every day. After the week apart in Yajalon and Bochil, we reunited in Palenque, a city in the North Eastern corner of the state, famed for its well-preserved Mayan ruins. The streets were hot and loud, stereos blaring, and children rushing to sell souvenir sculptures of Mayan warriors to the newly arrived tourist. We found a place to stay in a low-budget cabana resort on the boarder of the National Park. Salsa music could be heard along the river, travelers greeted us in English, and Italian food was served at the restaurant. What a culture shock from where we had been the week before. We spent the week traveling in combis and pick-up trucks, interviewing women in the surrounding towns. In the afternoons we would pick up some mangoes (before Kelly knew she had an allergy), and hike a mile into the park to a waterfall, to rinse off the dirt and sweat of the days work. When we had finished our interviews, and spent a day exploring the ruins, we made our way to Esquintla, in the Southern corner of the state.
Expecting to find a warm beach town when we arrived at 4:00am, we were instead greeted by a muggy strip of shops dotting a town still a few hours from one of the most polluted beaches we had ever seen. Unable to find an affordable place to stay (or a Laundromat, for that matter), we worked eleven-hour days to made record time and completed all of our interviews within the first two days. Finally, we had finished all of our field work and could return to our apartment in San Cristóbal de las Casas do our final interviews in the city, and get started on writing our final report.
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| Photo courtesy Anne-Marie Litak |
We are currently working with the Mexico Freedom From Hunger representative to prepare a presentation to give to Al Sols main office. We are hoping to synthesize the commentary that we received from clients and employees to convey both what is working within the organization and voice their suggestions of how services could be improved. We hope to look into such topics as: How the rate of growth of the organization effects its ability to provide services; What is the optimal size for a village bank; What is an appropriate amount of autonomy to give field managers (ascesores) in their policies with clients; How land management and access to land is effecting clients ability to repay loans and achieve food-security; and How social dynamics in village banks effect relationships within a community.
We still have two weeks in Chiapas to begin to outline these topics based on our findings. We will then return to California to consult with our mentors at the University, and produce a detailed report to submit to Freedom From Hunger.
Willee Roberts and Kelly Taylor, UC Davis undergraduates, International Relations
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