SupGaleano died. He died just as he lived: unhappily.
Of course, he took care, before passing away, of returning the name to the one who is flesh and blood inherited from Master Galeano. He recommended keeping him alive, that is to say, fighting. So Galeano will continue walking in these mountains.
In all other regards, it was something simple. He started humming something like “I know I’m piantao, piantao, piantao”, and, just before he expired, he said, or rather asked: “Do dead people sneeze?”, and that’s it. Those were his last words. No sentence for history, nor for a tombstone, nor for an anecdote told in front of a fire. Only that absurd, anachronistic, extemporaneous question: “Do the dead sneeze?”
He then remained still, his tired breathing suspended, his eyes closed, his lips finally silenced, his hands clenched.
We left. Almost as we left the ‘champa’, already at the doorway, we heard a sneeze. SubMoy turned to look at me and I at him, with a barely hinted “bless you.” None of us had sneezed. We turned back to see where the deceased’s body lay and nothing. SubMoy just said “good question.” I didn’t say a word, but I thought «he must surely be hanging with the moon walking down Callao.»
Then of course, we spared the funeral. Although we lost the opportunity for coffee and tamales.
-*-
I know that no one is interested in another death, and least of all that of the now deceased SupGaleano. In truth, I tell you this because he left that poem by Rubén Darío with which he began this series of texts. If we ignore the obvious hint to the Nicaragua that resists and persists – it could even be seen as a reference to the current war of the State of Israel against the people of Palestine, but, at the time of his death, the terror that overwhelms the world today had not restarted-, he left that poetry as a reference. More as a response to someone who asked how to explain what is happening now in Chiapas, Mexico and the world.
And, of course, as a discreet tribute to maestro Galeano –from whom he inherited the name-, he left what he called a “reading report”:
Who started it? Who is to blame? Who is innocent? Who is the god guy and who is the bad guy? In what position is Francis of Assisi? Who failed: him, the wolf, the shepherds or all of them? Why does the man from Assisi can only conceive making an agreement based on the wolf giving up being what he is?
Even though this happened months ago, the text sparked allegations and discussions that continue to this day. So, I will describe one of them:
It is a kind of meeting or assembly or some sort of roundtable. The best of each house is there: learned specialists in everything, militants and internationalists of all causes except of those in their own geography, spontaneous people with a PhD in social networks (the majority), and one or two who, upon seeing the noise, approached to see whether they were giving away buckets, caps or t-shirts with the name of whatever political party it was. There were quite a few who came near to find out what all the fuss was about.
– “You are nothing more than an agent of expansionist and imperial Zionism!” – shouted one.
– “And you are just a propagandist of fundamentalist Arab Muslim terrorism!” – responded another, furiously.
There had already been several outbreaks of quarrel, but it had not yet gone beyond a “meet you outside” kind of pushing and shoving.
That point was reached because they were analyzing Rubén Darío’s poem “Los Motivos del Lobo”.
Not everything had been an exchange of adjectives, jabs and bad faces. It started like everything else in those parts: with good manners, forceful phrases, “brief interventions” – which usually lasted half an hour or more –, and a great deal of quotes and footnotes.
Purely male, of course, because the debate was organized by the so-called “Toby’s Hipertextual Club”
“The Wolf is the good guy,” someone said, “because he only killed out of hunger, out of necessity.”
“No,” argued another, “he is evil because he killed sheep, which were the shepherds’ sustenance. And he himself admitted that “sometimes he ate lamb and shepherd.”
And another: “the bad guys are the people from the village, because they didn’t fulfill the agreement.”
One sitting over there: «it’s Assisi’s fault, who gets the agreement by asking the wolf to stop being a wolf, which is questionable, and then doesn’t stay to hold the pact.»
And one sitting over here: “But Assisi points out that human beings are bad by nature.”
They reaffirm themselves on both sides. But it turns out that, if a poll were taken right now, the wolf would have a comfortable double-digit lead over the shepherd village. But a clever maneuver on social networks managed to get the hashtag “killer wolf” to be TT far above #deathtotheshpherds. So, the triumph of the pro-shepherd influencers over the pro-wolf influencers was clear, although only on social networks.
There were some who argued in favor of two States coexisting in the same territory: the Wolf State and the Shepherd State.
And some others for a Plurinational State, with wolves and shepherds, living under the same oppressor, sorry, I meant under the same State. Another responded that this was impossible, given the background of each party.
A man in a suit and tie stands up and asks to speak: “If Ruben (he said this, ignoring the Darío bit), followed the legend of Gubbio, then we can do the same. Let’s continue the poem:
The shepherds, using their legitimate right to defend themselves, attack the wolf. First by destroying his burrow with bombings, and then by entering with tanks and infantry. It seems to me, colleagues, that the end is set: the terrorist and animal violence of the wolf is annihilated and the shepherds can continue their bucolic life, shearing sheep for a powerful transnational corporation that makes clothing for another equally powerful multinational corporation that, in turn , owes an even more powerful international financial institution; which will lead the shepherds to become efficient workers on their own lands – yes, with all the legal labor benefits -, and will elevate that village to first world levels, with modern highways, tall buildings and even a tourist train where Visitors from all over the world will be able to appreciate the ruins of what once were meadows, forests and springs. The annihilation of the wolf will bring peace and prosperity to the region. Sure, some animals will die, no matter the number nor the species, but they are just perfectly forgettable collateral damages. After all, bombs cannot be asked to distinguish between a wolf and a sheep, nor to limit their blast wave so as not to damage birds and trees. Peace will be achieved and no one will miss the wolf.”
Someone else stands up and points out: “But the wolf has international support and inhabited that place in advance. The system cut down trees for pasture fields, and that altered the ecological balance, reducing the number and species of animals that the wolf consumed to live. And it is to be expected that the descendants of the wolf will take fair revenge.”
“Ah, so the wolf also killed other beings. “He’s just like the shepherds,” someone replies.
Thus, they continued, giving as good arguments as those indicated here, full of wit, a wealth of erudition and many bibliographical references.
But the restraint did not last long: it went from wolf and shepherds to the Netanyahu – Hamas war and the discussion escalated until it reached what heads this anecdote, postmortem courtesy of the now deceased SupGaleano.
But at that moment, at the back of the room, a small hand was raised asking to speak. The moderator couldn’t see whose hand it was, so he gave the floor «to the person who is raising his hand back there.»
Everyone turned to look and was about to shout out in scandal and disapproval. It was a girl who was carrying a teddy bear, almost equal to her in size, and she was wearing a white blouse with embroidery and pants with a kitten near her right ankle. Anyways, the classic “outfit” for a birthday party or something like that.
The surprise was such that everyone remained silent and kept their eyes on the girl.
She stood up on the chair, thinking that this way they would hear her better and asked:
“What about the kids?”
The surprise then turned into a condemning murmur: “Which kids? What is this girl talking about? Who the hell let a woman enter this sacred precinct? And worse, she is a girl-woman!”
The girl got down from the chair and, always carrying her teddy bear with clear signs of obesity – the bear, of course -, headed to the exit door saying:
«The kids. That is, the pups of the wolf and the pups of the shepherds. Their little babies, ‘pues’. Who thinks about the kids? Who am I going to talk to? And where are we going to play?”
From the mountains of the Mexican southeast.
Captain Insurgent Marcos.
Mexico, October, 2023.
P.S.- Unconditional freedom for Manuel Gómez Vázquez (taken hostage since 2020 by the state government of Chiapas) and José Díaz Gómez (hostage since last year), indigenous Zapatista bases imprisoned for that reason, for being Zapatistas. Afterwards, don’t ask who sowed what you reap.
P.S.- OTIS Hurricane: Collection center for indigenous peoples in the state of Guerrero: at the address of the “Casa de los pueblos ‘Samir Flores Soberanes’”, located at Av. México-Coyoacán 343, colonia Xoco, Alcaldía Benito Juárez, Ciudad de México, C.P. 03330. Deposits and bank transfers in support of these towns and communities in the account number 0113643034, CLABE 012540001136430347, SWIFT code BCMRMXMMPYM, BBVA bank in Mexico, branch 1769. In the name of: “Ciencia Social al Servicio de los Pueblos Originarios”. Phone number: 5526907936.
October 2023