As runners from throughout the Americas entered the
holy city of Teotihuacan
Mexico, we stood at the base of the Pyramid of the Sun and exchanged
rings. And for a moment, our world stood still.
We were there on Oct. 11, 1992 to celebrate both our
own union as a couple
and the 500th anniversary of the last day before Europeans arrived in
the
Americas. The runners, some of whom had begun the "Peace and Dignity"
spiritual journey from South America, and others in Alaska, had finally
arrived. Indian prophecy had been fulfilled:
"When the eagle of the North and the Condor of the
South fly together, the
Earth will awaken. The eagles of the North cannot be free without the
condors of the South. Now it is happening. Now is the time."
The eagle and the condor, the symbol of North and South
America, have united
in the ancient MesoAmerican city.
The prayer run throughout the Americas was spiritual,
yet it was also
political. The very presence of hundreds of thousands of indigenous
peoples
from throughout the Americas, including hundreds of Chicanos, made the
event
political. People did not come to speak of the past; they came to speak
of
now. The gathering was not about Columbus, but about seeking peace and
dignity in lands that gave us neither. They came to honor the elders,
the
medicine people, the children and the future generations and to share
the
spiritual ceremonies of the different peoples.
Together we shared an indigenous consciousness that had
been discouraged ever
since the building of the first missions, ever since the first boarding
schools, where Indian children were sent to be "Christianized" and
"Americanized."
"In 1992, we made a commitment to make the run to
Teotihuacan every four
years," says Gustavo Gutierrez, an elder from Mesa, Ariz., and
coordinator of
the Peace and Dignity event. The purpose was to help heal the world,
and the
world is still in need of healing, he says. Thus, the run will be
repeated
this year.
As before, its goal is to bring to light the current
political plight of the
original peoples of the Americas. Since 1992, in addition to the
Chiapas
rebellion, there have been intense struggles regarding Indian rights
and
sovereignty throughout the hemisphere, particularly in southern Mexico,
Canada, Guatemala and Ecuador.
In 1992, the runners collected the ceremonial wooden
staffs of 43 Indian
nations, sacred feathered walking sticks that represent authority and
symbolically contain the prayers of many peoples. Alfonso Perez carried
one
of the principal staffs. He took part in the run through North America
across the desert, sometimes covering 50 miles a day. There, the
runners
traversed sacred places of resistance, such as Wounded Knee, South
Dakota. In Minnesota, a child runner was hit by a car; miraculously
unscratched, he
later continued.
In small Mexican villages, the participants were
greeted by hundreds of
children and blessed by elders. In some places they saw how the land
has
been desecrated; they saw poisoned, and in some cases, dry rivers. They
noticed that the deer that had once roamed in large numbers were now
scarce.
A year later, on the eve of the Chiapas insurrection,
we found ourselves in
Temoaya, Mexico, at an intercontinental indigenous spiritual gathering,
in a
circle in front of a great sacred fire. There, we saw many of the same
runners, including Perez, who had been chosen as a caretaker of the
staffs.
Then, two months later, he was arrested in Michoacan,
Mexico, for the
possession of peyote, which he was taking to ceremonies with the
Huichol
Indians. Perez, who practices the Lakota spiritual tradition, was
accused of
possessing and trafficking in drugs that are only authorized for
indigenous
religious ceremonies.
The Mexican government ruled that the Mexican-born
Perez, who was a resident
of Laredo, Texas, was not Indian. So, despite his racial background and
spiritual beliefs, the government did not consider him indigenous and
thus,
not allowed to possess peyote. Eventually, the government reversed its
decision. However, it did not release Perez until last month, after he
had
spent two years behind bars. "A lot of things contributed to his
release,
says Gutierrez, "but it was mainly faith."
The irony of his imprisonment is that the very thing he
was arrested for, he
was allowed to do in prison--perform spiritual healing ceremonies.
Dorinda Moreno, an elder from northern California, who
was at Teotihucan in
1992 and who worked diligently for Perez's release, says that the
government's reversal of its decision on his identity reaffirms the
belief
of most indigenous people that it is people themselves who determine
their
own identity, not governments.
Today, Perez remains in Mexico, organizing tributary
Peace and Dignity runs
that will enter Teotihuacan on Oct. 12 this year. His victory in court
has
given him high visibility at a time when it is courageous to be highly
visible in Mexico. "He will put the run on the front pages," says
Moreno.
When runners arrive in Teotihucan, their prayers will
be for the future
generations and for the healing of the earth's four sacred colors--red,
black, yellow and white--which represent all the peoples of the world.
"So
that we all live in harmony," says Gutierrez. "That's the commitment."
The runners for the 1998 THE JOURNEYS OF PEACE AND
DIGNITY: May-
October, 1998 just passed through Watsonville, in Central California,
on their way to Teotihuacan, Mexico City, for a ceremony on October
12, 1998. They spent the night in Indian Canyon, near Hollister
Californina, one of the few places in the United States where
indigenous peoples have lived unmolested for many, many centuries.
A ceremony with local indigenous dancers was attended
by supporters in
the Watsonville Plaza. The staffs carried by runners were shared with
all of us attending the ceremony and as I touched a beautiful carved
staff laden with eaagle feathers and other spiritual markers, I knew
that the growing unity of peoples from all indigenous nations is a
force that will change the tide of misuse of our selves, lands, and
seas.
To make a reality of the saying, Un continente--una
cultura, people are
running from Alaska and from Argentina to Mexico City. Non-indigenous
people are welcome to participate as runners, trainers, or support
staff.
For more information call:
(602) 966-0944, (602) 966-7724, (602) 254-5230.
Or you may write to:
Peace and Dignity Journeys 1998
P.O. Box 1865
Tempe AZ 85280
Seaseal is Cecile Mills at:
Contradiction is the Telas critereon of reality.
P.O. Box 253
Watsonville, CA 95077-0253
Simone Weil
It was right out of a 1950s horror movie: in between
bags of pretzels and
pork rinds at a local convenience store stood a giant rat, with large
whiskers and a huge tail. On closer inspection, it wasn't menacing. In
fact, it was smiling, wearing a white peasant shirt and pants and a
large
yellow sombrero.
Frito-Lay, who a generation ago created the "Frito
Bandido," has now put a
rat on the cover of its Lay's New Salsa & Cheese Potato Chips. Not
only is
there a rat, but the company says that the chips are "endorsed by none
other
than Speedy Gonzales." In fact, that rat is Gonzales (no relation) on
the
cover.
After protests in 1970 by Mexican Americans, Frito-Lay
dumped the Bandido--a
Mexican bandit who ran around stealing Frito's corn chips.
So now we've trapped a rat. Of course, it's just a
Warner Bros. Looney Tune
cartoon character, but somehow, we get the feeling that for Frito-Lay,
it's
payback time: If they can't have their thieving bandido, then a Mexican
rat
endorsing salsa & cheese potato chips will do.
The sighting of this rat occurred about the same time
we noticed a sleepy
Mexican on several restaurant marquees on a a recent trip through the
Southwest and Midwest. We had thought those images had been put to rest
in
the 1960s. It brought to mind the sleeping Mexican that Taco Bell used
to
display under its bell and other images of Mexicans lazing against
cacti.
"They are 19th century images going into the 21st
century," says Juan
Marinez, a researcher at the Julian Samora Research Institute--an
institute
dedicated to the study of Latinos in the Midwest--at Michigan State
University.
The images are akin to "Black Sambo" eating a
watermelon or other
historically odious marketing images that have been discarded for their
obviously insulting message.
Marinez says that ironically, now it's Mexicans or
Latinos themselves who
promote images of sleeping Mexicans or Mexican thieves in restaurant
logos o
on business cards. If a major national company were to employ those
images,
there would be an instant national boycott, he says.
We recently had a conversation with Domingo Reyes, who
in the early 1970s,
headed the National Mexican American Anti-Defamation Committee, the
group
that led the boycott against the Frito Bandido and who first spotted
the rat We all agreed that one day, Mexicans and Latinos will be
associated for
something other than taking a siesta or stealing--such as being in
front of
computer.
About 10 years ago, a similar discussion took place
regarding Tecate Beer's
advertising campaign which featured a lime, a salt shaker, a can of
beer and
a slogan that read: "El Orgullo de Mexico"--The Pride of Mexico.
After one of us wrote a column about how demeaning the
message was, the
advertising firm apologized. One of its executives said they weren't
aware
that touting beer as the pride of Mexico could somehow be construed as
insulting--and promptly canceled their promotional campaign.
That was easy enough. Common sense triumphed over
confrontation.
That's what should happen with the potato chip company
and the rat.
A bigger problem is that there is an abundance of
similar messages that go
unreported, or else people have simply given up complaining and have
accepte
those images.
As a personal campaign, we think it's time to put an
end to derogatory image
of Mexicans and other Latinos. In fact, it's time to rid ourselves of
any
image that insults any group.
Up until the 1950s, it was socially acceptable or
politically correct to
insult different groups. As a result, there are many leftover images
from
that era. And of course, we're not talking about outdated Americana
found
in antique stores but what is still in use today.
Let us know if there is an image out there that should
be removed, especially
if it is used by a national chain. We also suggest asking the place of
business why it still clings to those images. Better yet, if you know
of
companies that have dropped insulting logos and replaced them with
positive
ones, pass that good news on to us.
From 1998 to 1998 marks the 150th anniversary of the
Mexican-American War. The most important individual anniversary will be
the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which took place on
Feb. 2, 1848, and which formally ended the two-year conflict between
the United States and Mexico.
While some people (and many U.S. courts) see the
treaty as dead, others see it as the basic document that governs
relations between both countries. Still others see it as a living human
rights document that pertains to people of Mexican origin residing in
the United States.
Many of us were raised with the idea that the war
against Mexico was simply pretext for stealing its territory, and the
treaty, negotiated under militar duress and signed by a corrupt
dictator, simply formalized the theft of half of Mexico's territory--a
violation of international law. (As a result of th war, Mexico lost
land that now makes up the Southwestern United States).
While many Mexican Americans view the treaty in this
context, it did guarantee Mexicans and their descendants who remained
in the ceded territories certain political rights, including land
rights. But by the end of the century, most Mexicans had lost their
land, either through force or fraud.
During the early Chicano movement in the 1960s, New
Mexico land rights crusader Reies Lopez Tijerina and his Alianza
movement invoked the Treaty of Guadalupe in their struggle. In 1972,
the Brown Berets youth organization also invoked it in their symbolic
takeover of Catalina Island, off the Southern California coast.
For more than 15 years, many Chicano indigenous groups
have cited the treaty in their struggle for the human rights of
Chicanos in international forums, such as the U.N. They maintain,
however, that the Mexican and indigenous peoples living in what is
today the Southwest U.S. were not signatories. Native American peoples
have also referred to it in their legal disputes.
Despite the fact that "It's not our treaty," says
Rocky Rodriguez, national director of the Denver-based National Chicano
Human Rights Council, Chicanos in the United States today are also
covered by it.
When it comes to fighting for human rights cases,
especially those of land theft and law enforcement abuse, seeking
relief through U.S. courts is basically of no use to Chicanos, says
Rodriguez. People of Chicano/Mexican origin rarely win when they use or
encounter the judicial system, she says.
Richard Griswold del Castillo, a San Diego State
University history professor, considers the treaty a living document,
and studies the subject i his recent book, "The Treaty of Guadalupe: A
Legacy of Conflict." Upon examining the document and its 23 articles
negotiated by both countries, the most startling thing that stands out
is that article 10 is missing. That article, which was deleted by the
U.S. Senate upon ratification, explicitly protected the land rights of
Mexicans. Additionally, article 9, which deals with citizenship rights,
was weakened.
The key to understanding the treaty, however, is not
so much what's in it, but rather, what isn't in it.
According to precedents set by U.S./Indian treaties,
people do not automatically lose their rights when they lose a war.
People possess inherent and universal human rights and when treaties
are negotiated, the people involved can lose only the rights
specifically agreed upon.
In "American Indians, American Justice," by Vine
Deloria and Clifford M. Lytle, the authors state that courts, in
recognizing the past exploitation and the use of force against American
Indians, developed a set of judicial rules in dealing with disputes. In
effect, they are guiding principles when dealing with U.S./Indian
treaties. According to the authors, one of the rules states: "Treaties
reserve to Indians all rights that have not been granted away." This is
known as the "reserved rights doctrine."
It thus follows that Mexicans in the U.S. did not lose
their rights, unless that was stipulated in the treaty. And of course,
no such stipulation was made. Also, these same rules call on judges to
interpret treaties in the manner that reasonable people would interpret
them. And it can be assumed that reasonable people don't "give away"
their lands or rights in treaties.
Armando Rendon, author of "Chicano Manifesto," a 1971
book that's also about the treaty and which is being republished, is a
strong believer in the work of the council. He believes a test case is
on the horizon, seeking redress on behalf of Chicanos, based on
Guadalupe Hidalgo.
We too predict that a test case--with legal
merit--will soon arise on the issue of either language rights or land
grants, based on the treaty and predicated on the fact that Mexicans
(or their descendants) living in the ceded territories did not lose
their universal rights as a result of the war
Reflecting over the United State's history of violated
treaties, Rodriguez says, "Indian prophecies predicted trickery in the
north [America] and brut force in the south. Here [in the Southwest
U.S.], both have been used."
These
Articles are Reproduced with Permission from the Authors.
Compiled
by: Glenn Welker
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