Mexico Week In Review: 04.02-04.08

[cisdc]

Mexico Week In Review: 04.02-04.08
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Published since 1994, 'Mexico Week In Review' is a service of the
Committee of Indigenous Solidarity (CIS).  CIS is a Washington, D.C.
based activist group committed to the ongoing struggles of Indigenous
peoples in the Americas.  CIS is actively supporting the struggles
of the Indigenous peoples of Mexico while simultaneously combating
related structures of oppression within our own communities.

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http://lists.mutualaid.org/pipermail/mexico-week/

"Para Todos, Todo; Para Nosotros Nada"
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CHIAPAS: GOVERNMENT MARKS MORE VILLAGES FOR EVICTION FROM SELVA

Mexico's Environment and Natural Resources Secretariat (Semarnat)
announced that six more settlements-some which have been established
for 70 years-have been slated for relocation from the Montes Azules
Biosphere Reserve in the lowland rainforest of Chiapas, the Lacandon
Selva. The named settlements are San Antonio Miramar, Rancho Corozal,
Salvador Allende, Nuevo Salvador Allende, El Buen Samaritano and
Nuevo San Gregorio. The communities are made up of some 60 families,
covering around 5,000 hectares.

The heads of Semarnat and the Agrarian Reform Secretariat (SRA), Juan
Rafael Elvira Quezada and Rafael Escobar Prieto, pledged to work with
the communities to find lands elsewhere in Chiapas. The SRA's own
documents recognize Salvador Allende and Nuevo Salvador Allende were
created by Tzeltal Maya settlers in 1935-more than 40 years before
the biosphere was declared. The Tzeltals had fled cattle ranches in
Las Margaritas, where they had worked as peones acasillados (resident
farm hands). Nuevo San Gregorio was founded months before the 1971
presidential order that turned 614,000 hectares over to the "Lacandon
Community," recognizing the rights of a small group of indigenous
forest-dwellers over the more numerous settlers who had been
encouraged to colonize the Selva under previous government policy.

The communities of Rancho Corozal, El Buen Samaritano and San Antonio
Miramar are on lands taken in the Zapatista uprising of 1994. The
inhabitants are integrated into the Zapatista movement, including the
rebel militia.

Source: www.ww4report.com: 04/08
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GOV'T, MILITARY SCRAMBLE TO DENY RAPE OF INDIGENOUS WOMAN

The handling of the case of an elderly indigenous woman who was
allegedly raped by soldiers and died soon afterwards has seriously
undermined public trust in the governmental National Human Rights
Commission (CNDH), the Mexican government and the armed forces, which
deny that she was sexually assaulted. "We believe they want to let
the case go unpunished, which is simply unacceptable. We regret and
deplore that the government should abase itself in this way before
the power of the military," the president of the Mexican League for
the Defense of Human Rights, Adrián Ramírez, told IPS.

Ernestina Ascensio, a 73-year-old Nahuátl indigenous sheep herder,
died on Feb. 25 in the rural municipality of Soledad Atzompa in the
state of Veracruz, located on the Gulf of Mexico. A military
detachment of some 100 troops is stationed in this extremely poor
area. According to the elderly woman's relatives, before she died she
told them that several soldiers had attacked her, and this testimony
was confirmed by Veracruz prosecutors, who stated after a forensic
examination of the body that the injuries received were consistent
with having been brutally raped and sodomised. She had also suffered
fractures of the skull and hip.

However, a rival version of the facts soon followed. After exhumation
of the body and a second autopsy, president of the CNDH José Luis
Soberanes declared that Ascensio had not been raped but had died of
anemia caused by malnutrition and chronic intestinal bleeding. "I
don't know whether they're trying to protect the guilty or what, but
this information from the CNDH is very serious, because it does not
appear to be substantiated," Ramírez said. "What has happened in this
case has created a conflict between the authorities on one side and
indigenous people and society on the other," the activist said.

Local residents and authorities in Ascensio's home district, which
has a mainly indigenous population of 17,000 dispersed over 66 square
kilometers, said they were outraged by the version propounded by the
CNDH and by the position taken by President Felipe Calderón, who
declared that the elderly woman had not been raped even before the
results of the second autopsy were reported. Local residents in
Soledad Atzompa issued a statement claiming that the CNDH was lying.
They also sent an open letter to Calderón demanding that the
perpetrators not be protected and that they be brought to justice.

The Ascensio case is riddled with uncertainties. Shortly after the
alleged rape, the assistant prosecutor of Veracruz, Miguel Mina,
announced that the first autopsy had found that the elderly
indigenous woman had been "raped anally and vaginally," and that the
victim's body was "torn and lacerated" as a result of the sexual
assault. The Defense Ministry later said in a communiqué "forensic
experts are carrying out a comparison of seminal fluid found on the
body of the deceased with blood samples to be taken from military
personnel." Afterwards, however, they withdrew that communiqué and
asked the media to publish instead a statement to the effect that
there was no evidence that military personnel had ever attacked
Ascensio. "We respect the CNDH's conclusions and those of the other
reports, but this has raised enormous doubts and questions," Isabel
Uriarte of the Agustín Pro Juárez human rights group told IPS.

Members of the group, which has links with the Jesuit order, visited
the scene of the alleged rape and interviewed relatives and neighbors
of the indigenous woman, who confirmed that the victim herself had
said she had been attacked by soldiers. The position adopted by the
CNDH, the military and President Calderón "put a great deal of
pressure on the investigations," Uriarte said. "We hope the
prosecutor's office in Veracruz, which has jurisdiction over this
investigation, won't allow itself to be swayed by one version or
another, but will delve thoroughly into the matter, weigh the
evidence and come up with a substantiated verdict so that the guilty
parties, if any, may be brought to justice," Uriarte said.

Before the results of the second autopsy sponsored by the CNDH were
made known, the Defense Ministry said that "disaffected groups with a
grudge against the armed forces have repeatedly tried to bring into
disrepute the actions carried out by the military for the benefit of
Mexican society, and in this particular instance it was criminals
wearing military uniforms who were the perpetrators of the crime."
But according to Calderón and the CNDH, there was no crime. The
suspicions aroused by the case have been fuelled by Calderón's close
relationship with the armed services ever since his term of office
began in December. Thousands of soldiers have been deployed
throughout the country to combat the drug cartels. But in the area
where Ascensio lived, there has been no reported presence of drug
traffickers. The president constantly praises the job done by the
military, and a few weeks ago ordered pay increases for all ranks.

Members of the armed forces have been accused of raping several other
indigenous women, whose cases have not been clarified. The Agustín
Pro Juárez group has files on at least seven cases in addition to
that of Ascensio. The indigenous plaintiffs are Inés Fernández and
Valentina Rosendo, who were raped in 2002, and Francisca Santos,
Victoriana Vázquez and three sisters, Ana, Beatriz and Celia
González, who were raped in 1994.

Source: IPS: 03/29
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UNACCEPTABLE POVERTY LEVEL SAYS WORLD BANK

Despite all efforts, the current poverty levels in Mexico are
unacceptable, World Bank representative to this country Daniel Boyce
asserted. According to Boyce, 50 percent of a 105-million-inhabitant
total population in Mexican territory lives in poverty, and 15
percent is at the threshold of abject poverty, which means that they
live with $1.0 a day or less.

For the multilateral financial entity's representative, it is
essential to keep working, because those indicators are unacceptable,
either for the local leaders or the heading entity in this country.
Although there have been achievements, as tax balance. He also called
to adopt reforms to give more job opportunities and economic
solvency. In this reference, he encouraged to raise education
quality, and avoid concentration of monopolies and oligopolies to
boost a greater competition. It is necessary to keep working to raise
education quality, he reiterated, and highlighted the need to make
progress in a tax reform that favors increasing collection and
decreasing the country's dependence on oil incomes.

Source: Prensa Latina: 03/31
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BEACHES OPEN IN MEXICO CITY

Commentators chuckle that urban sun bathers will choke on bus fumes.
A television skit shows a plump man in a bathing suit stumbling
around grid locked cars. The Mexico City mayor's plan to build four
beaches in this smoggy mountain capital has been lampooned as a joke
and a waste of money by Mexico's elite, who vacation at ocean
resorts. But the mayor's supporters welcome the sand as a city
getaway for millions of poor people who have never seen a beach.

The first beach opened Tuesday (04/03), luring hundreds of families
to soak up the sun, play volleyball and munch on tacos, surrounded on
the sand by soaring apartment buildings. Booming Mexican pop music
blared from radios. "This is the best thing they have done in Mexico
City in a long time," said Anaberta Castillo, 32, whose six children
were romping in the sand and splashing in the pool. "The kids love
it."

The jokes about the urban beaches reflect Mexico's sharp class
divisions. Wealthy Mexicans pack beach resorts during the Easter
holiday, when temperatures in Mexico City are expected to be in the
low 90s. But millions earn the minimum wage of $4 a day and cannot
afford a holiday. "There is a typical discriminatory attitude to the
urban beaches among Mexico's rich," said Guadalupe Loeza, an author
critical of Mexican high society. "The wealthy can fly off to their
houses in Acapulco and Cancun. But for many normal people, a beach in
Mexico City is a magnificent option to take the children."

The plan was inspired by artificial beaches in European capitals such
as Paris, Berlin, Rome, Amsterdam and Budapest. The Paris beach,
which turns the banks of the River Seine into a faux-tropical
retreat, met with criticism when it opened in 2002. But it attracted
nearly 4 million sun lovers to its deck chairs and white sand last
year. The Mexico City beach that opened Tuesday was located in a park
built for the 1968 Olympics, and Mayor Marcelo Ebrard has said the
other beaches will be created next to lakes and swimming pools in
other parks around the capital. Much of the sand has been shipped in
from the coastal state of Veracruz for less than $200,000, the mayor
said. "I don't know why this is annoying people so much," Ebrard
said. "It doesn't cost the government much work to adapt spaces so
people can have a good time with their families. To those who don't
want to use the beaches it seems a bad idea. But to most people, it's
a great idea."

Critics include politicians from President Felipe Calderon's
conservative National Action Party who say the money could be better
spent fixing sports grounds and plazas than creating beaches. "There
is so much richness in Mexico City that needs rescuing, and
authorities get distracted by these proposals," said Federal Water
Commissioner Jose Luis Luege of National Action. "The truth is, it
really makes me laugh."

Mexican media have repeatedly poked fun at the beach plan. The
Televisa network showed a reporter in flippers and an inflatable
float around his waist bathing in a city fountain. The Mexico City
tabloid El Grafico called it a Family Burron-style beach, referring
to a comic strip about a poor family that has huge messy picnics with
neighbors and relatives. Claudia Rodriguez, a 23-year-old marketing
graduate looking for work at the stock exchange, chortled at the
mention of the urban beaches. "It's absurd, illogical having beaches
in Mexico City," she said with a grin. "Sun bathers will risk being
hit by passing buses."

But Juan Hernandez, a 31-year-old street collector for the Red Cross,
said his two young sons have never been to the sea. "It will be
fantastic," he said. "You need a place to escape to in these baking,
hot days." Javier Bustos, a 20-year-old bank employee, said the
beaches are a good idea, but fears the city government will forget
about maintenance. "They might look nice at first," Bustos said, "but
soon they will turn into garbage dumps."

Source: Associated Press: 04/03
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IN OAXACA, WOMEN RISE
by John Gibler

Putting their personal lives on hold, women in the Mexican state of
Oaxaca helped shut down the government, took over a TV station, and
stood up to police violence. "Everything is the movement," says
Patricia Jimenez Alvarado, looking at me across her kitchen table.
"You don't have a personal life anymore." She leans her face into her
open palms, and weeps. Jimenez, in her mid-forties, is a thesis
advisor at Oaxaca State University by profession. But the government
of Oaxaca accuses her of being an "urban guerrilla." Her house and
car have just been broken into and searched. She regularly receives
text-message death threats on her cellular phone. A warrant has been
issued for her arrest. And for the first time in her children's
lives, she has missed their birthdays - several months ago she sent
her children to live with her sister-in-law to keep them safe.
Sitting down with me for this interview is the first moment of calm
she's had since mid-June, Jimenez says. That's when she and thousands
of other women - many of whom had never participated in a march or
rally before - orchestrated the takeover of the state television and
radio stations and broadcast live their opposition to state violence.
Their actions earned these women a place among Oaxaca's most wanted
activists, sought by the para-police gangs that serve the state
government.

In the beginning, the civil disobedience in Oaxaca was not organized
primarily by women. It began on May 22 as a teachers' strike to
demand higher federal and state education budgets. The striking
teachers set up a protest camp in Oaxaca City, a tent city that
filled the touristy town square and stretched out for blocks, housing
tens of thousands of teachers from across the state. In 2004, Ulises
Ruiz Ortiz, of the Institutional Revolutionary Party, had been sworn
in as governor under serious allegations of electoral fraud. But
instead of mending bridges, he announced a policy of no tolerance for
protests, even moving the state government offices into guarded
compounds miles outside the city center. Ruiz refused to meet with
the teachers union or answer their demands. Then, at dawn on June 14,
2006, he sent state riot police using tear gas and helicopters to
violently dismantle the striking teachers' camp, leaving scores of
men, women, and children injured.

The city exploded. Thousands, including Jimenez, took to the streets
to help the teachers, tend the injured, and offer food and water. But
to everyone's surprise, these citizens went one step further - they
counterattacked, retook the town square, and drove the police out of
town. This spontaneous rejection of police violence, along with the
outpouring of support for the teachers, ignited a five-month civil
disobedience uprising. It would put a half million people on the
streets in marches and tens of thousands in protest camps across
Oaxaca City, paralyze the state government, and send the governor
into hiding.

To encourage people's participation in developing strategies for
long-term organizing, the teachers' union called indigenous
organizations, human rights groups, and local unions into an
assembly. Together these groups formed the Oaxaca People's Popular
Assembly (APPO), which they opened to all who signed on to demand the
ouster or resignation of Ruiz for ordering the police raid. The
provisional leadership of the APPO was almost entirely male, with
women relegated to lesser roles.

Meanwhile, back at the treasury Undaunted, women formed neighborhood
groups in order to join the APPO and participated in the marathon
discussions that guided the protesters' actions. When the APPO
decided to launch a civil disobedience offensive on July 26?setting
up camps around the state legislature, courts, and the governor's
offices to shut down all three branches of government - many women
volunteered to set up camp outside the state treasury, a building low
on the APPO's priority list. There, during the first nights at their
protest camp, they cooked up the idea of a women-only march on August
1. The march drew some 5,000 women, all banging on pots and pans with
meat tenderizers, ladles, and soup spoons. The raucous cacophony had
the women so jazzed that when they reached their destination (the
protester-occupied town square), they decided to keep going, to the
state-owned television station, Channel 9. The only statewide local
station, Channel 9 failed to report on the June 14 police violence
and later presented the protesters as vandals and hooligans. At first
the women demanded only an hour on television to tell their version
of the events of June 14 and why they wanted Ruiz out of office. But
Mercedes Rojas Saldaña, the station director, refused. The women
asked for less time, then even less, but were repeatedly rebuffed.
Finally, they walked past the director, with pots and pans in hand,
and took over the station.

As Jimenez and the other women rounded up the station's employees,
several of her former students recognized her. One asked, "Teacher,
what are you doing here? "Well, taking over the station," she said.
"No choice." Another asked: "Teacher, why are you dragging us into
this mess? Aren't you an academic? "And so?" Jimenez replied. "I'm
also one of the people." Employees had taken the station off the air
as the women stormed the office. Now the women scrambled to get the
station back on the air before the police came to retake the station.
Jimenez herself tried to figure out how to work the cameras. But the
police did not come. Instead, thousands of residents from the
surrounding neighborhood flooded the streets to guard the station,
taking over city buses and parking them across the street to block
all approaching traffic. One technician who knew Jimenez agreed to
tell her where the antennas were and how to get the transmission
going again if Jimenez would let her go. Jimenez told her, "Here
there are no friendships and no privileges. Here we make the
decisions in collective." Then she led the employee off to meet with
the other women and negotiated the release of all the employees -
none of whom had been harmed in the takeover - in return for their
help in getting the station back on the air. Within three hours, for
the first time in Mexican history, a protest movement occupied a
state television station and broadcast live. Viewers saw a tight
group of women without makeup or designer dresses, pots and pans
still in hand, all facing the camera. Their message: if the media
insist on airbrushing state violence from the news and distorting
social protest into an "urban guerrilla" movement, then the people
will take the media in order to tell their own story of suffering,
police repression, and organizing social protests.

Moving forward Meanwhile, from late August through November, the
conflict escalated. The government attacked Channel 9, destroying the
station's antennas and knocking the women's revolutionary media off
the air. Plainclothes police officers and PRI party militants
regularly opened fire on protestors and, over the course of 3 months,
killed at least 16 people, including New York-based journalist Brad
Will. Protesters organized thousands of nighttime barricades across
the city to prevent armed attacks. They also took over private radio
stations to continue broadcasting their denunciations of state
violence and to call for further protests to oust the governor. On
November 25, federal police cracked down on protesters after a small
group began to throw rocks and fire bottle rockets at the police. The
police rounded up and beat more than 140 protesters, then carted them
off to federal prison in Nayarit, four states away. State and federal
police patrolled the streets to grab organizers, and hundreds of
people went underground. Jimenez cut her brown hair short, dyed it
jet black, and sneaked out of town. But two weeks later she was back
to join a delegation of APPO protesters set to hold talks with the
federal government and then to stage marches demanding the release of
those taken prisoner on November 25. In December she helped organize
another high-energy march and a free outdoor concert where the
Oaxaca-born musician Lila Downs joined in singing Christmas carols
retooled to denounce state violence.

"We have shown that women's participation in these movements is
fundamental," Jimenez said. On January 8, I saw Jimenez again. She
was on the way to an APPO assembly meeting. "We have to endure! We
can't give up!" she said, her voice hoarse with a bad cold. "We can
only go forward. There is no other way."

John Gibler is a Global Exchange Human Rights Fellow and writer based
in Mexico.

Source: YES! Magazine Spring 2007 Issue: 03/01

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The above articles were originally published and copyrighted by the
listed sources. These articles are offered for educational purposes
which CIS maintains is  'fair use' of copyrighted material as
provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law.

end: Mexico Week In Review: 04.02-04.08
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