Yesterday I went for a walk. I saw many young people protesting government measures to stop them in their task to be school teachers. They are from Ayotzinapa, and other towns all over South Mexico, like Teneria in the State of Mexico.
Twenty years ago one Ayotzinapa student died as a consequence of government repression. When they finished, a group of energetic and determined persons started a dance as soon as the rain came down strong. I thought they were also from Ayotzinapa, but I read today in the paper, that there were two independent activities vying for space in the center of town. They were respectful of each other; one group protesting and remembering their fallen ones, and the other one with an older memory. Five hundred and sixteen years ago, Christopher Columbus saw land, now called America, where these dancing people's ancestors used to live free.
While it was raining, and they were dancing, I couldn't help thinking of the coincident elements I was witnessing for over an hour.
This land has a long history.
Also my personal history is intertwined with this land. I went to the cemetery to set zempazuchitl flowers in the tombs of my cousins: when they died; one was 39, and the other 45 years old.
Beloved Cousins: Rest in Peace.
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