Download audio file (WVR_toymaker-mexico.mp3)
[FIREWORKS]

Public celebrations like New Year’s Eve and Independence Day draw huge crowds to Oaxaca City’s central square. The celebrations include fireworks, live music, and…

[FOAM FIGHT]

…playful fights with spray foam. By the time the party is over, empty aerosol cans blanket the square. It’s an amazing amount of litter…but not all of it ends up in a landfill.

[COLLECTING CANS]

RAMIREZ (in Spanish, voiced over): “So we pick it up, as much as we can. We’re able to gather around 10, 15, even 20 sacks full and they last us all year.”

That’s local artist Miguel Ramirez. More than four decades ago, he started turning these cans into toy airplanes, helicopters, trains, antique cars…and even UFOs.

Mr. Ramirez has a toy workshop in his home, where he shows me how he turns the empty spray cans into raw material for his creations.

[Miguel Ramirez cutting cans – reporter describes process]

He takes one of the cans out of a sack, holds down the valve to release any remaining air, then knocks the valve off. Then, he hammers the tip of a knife into the upper side of the can and cuts off its top. Ramirez uses the tops to make the wheels for his trains and cars. Next, he cuts off the bottom of the can…. Bottoms make good reflectors. Then, he slices up the can’s metal seam with scissors.

RAMIREZ (in Spanish): “Then you open it up, then flatten the metal.”

Ramirez uses a thick piece of wood to do that.

RAMIREZ: “From there, you wash it with a good amount of water. Once it’s clean, you let it dry, shine it with newspaper and then fold over the edges.”

[SANDER STARTING UP]

He makes sure to leave no sharp edges. What he can’t fold into a side seam, he smooths over with a sanding wheel. Ramirez transforms the sheet metal into car chassis, steam engine chimneys, and decorative ladders for his UFOs. Solder holds everything together.

All of his creations… which can be up to 2 feet long…. have moving parts and some make sounds – like this airplane.

[PLANE CLICKING SOUND]
RAMIREZ: “That’s what gets the attention of young people, children and even adults (laughs).”

Ramirez and his wife take to the streets occasionally to sell their pieces…but it’s a bit  tricky. They don’t have an expensive street vendor’s license. So they have to do their selling while walking. They cradle a model or two in their arms while carrying others in tote bags slung over their shoulders.

Patricia Diaz has bought several pieces from Ramirez and recalls the 1st time she saw him and his wife.

PATRICIA DIAZ (in Spanish, voiced over): “I saw them walk by selling these toys, or these objects made from sheet metal. I went downstairs to inquire and they had already walked ahead. I had almost lost them, but I caught up and well, I really liked what they had. It’s really lovely and well done work.”

The work is also very labor-intensive. Miguel Ramirez says he can produce 6 trains or cars in one month. He repairs electronic appliances to supplement the family income, but says his heart is in his handcrafted artwork.

RAMIREZ: “The work is very labor-intensive, but it’s worthwhile. I feel good doing this work.

One of his handmade cars or trains costs about 50 dollars. That’s about  the same as a remote controlled vehicle or a brand name plastic toy truck of the same size. The big difference being the metal toy is more likely to survive an entire childhood.

Papers with names of the murdered and disappeared on a wall in Oaxaca City

Much of the news of Mexico’s Drug War focuses on the shootouts, massacres and abductions which have killed tens of thousands of people in the north. Violence in the south takes on a different form and generally receives less attention.

Download audio file (20110919sy.mp3)

The southern states of Guerrero, Oaxaca, and Chiapas share certain characteristics. They are Mexico’s poorest states, are rich in natural resources, have large indigenous populations and long traditions of social movements.

In parts of southern Mexico, the legacy of the decades-long Dirty War against political dissidents has dovetailed with the climate of violence and impunity of the ongoing Drug War.

MICAELA CABAÑAS: “Desde hace mas de 40 años que tenemos en esta lucha…(fade under, reporter interprets)

Such is the case of Micaela Cabañas, who joined the caravan in her home state of Guerrero. Her father, the iconic guerrilla leader and rural teacher, Lucio Cabañas, died during an army siege in the mid ’70s. Her mother and aunt, Isabel and Reyna Anaya, were assassinated just over two months ago while leaving a church. Just hours after the crime, Micaela Cabañas received a death threat from the cell phone that had been stolen from her murdered mother.

MICAELA CABAÑAS (voiceover): “We have to continue the struggle. We have to continue planting seeds – seeds that send down firm roots steeped in education and culture – to continue on this path towards the light.”

A historic grievance in this corner of Mexico has been indigenous control over ancestral territory. Conflicts over land can take many forms; from outright paramilitary displacement campaigns sponsored by powerful regional land bosses…to rifts within a community over religion or politics. Exploitation of inter-communal divisions are sometimes fueled by outside forces.

One of the deadliest recent rural conflicts in Oaxaca occurred last year in the town of San Juan Copala. Armed men forced supporters of

Caravan event in the main plaza of Oaxaca City

a local self-governance model to flee the town after a 10 month long siege. The displaced say their aggressors received resources from what was then the state’s ruling party to keep the town under siege and crush the indigenous autonomy project.

Macario Garcia Merino spoke to the caravan during one of its stops in Oaxaca.

MACARIO GARCIA MERINO (voiceover):“It’s not just the situation in San Juan Copala and it’s not specific to the state of Oaxaca. We’ve come to realize that this situation, this war of extermination, is throughout the entire country. This is why we need all need to band together and walk together to find justice.”

San Juan Copala, like other areas experiencing forced displacements, is believed to contain significant mineral wealth.

(SPEECH/AMBI – Monte Alban ceremony)

The issue of conflict and indigenous control over their mineral-rich lands was acknowledged specifically during a ceremony for caravan participants at the Monte Alban archaeological site.

Amada Puentes, whose son has been missing since he was taken from the streets of Monterrey by policemen more than 2 years ago, said the ceremony for peace had a profound impact.

Banner with written messages next to caravan bus

AMADA PUENTES: “Cuando iniciamos la caravana, yo todavía traía en mi corazón deseos de venganza, ya no tanto de justicia, de venganza. En esta ceremonia creanme que me cambió la manera de pensar “(fade under, reporter interprets)

Puentes says even at the start of the caravan her heart yearned for revenge; not so much for justice any more, but revenge. But she says the ceremony at Monte Alban changed her way of thinking.

PUENTES (voiceover):“I now feel calmer than at the start of this journey. And I know now that it was worth it because I felt connected and I could see that I’m not alone. Even with all the people at the start of this trip, I felt isolated. After such an amazing moment [in the ceremony], my way of thinking and feeling changed. Even though I continue to cry on the inside, I now feel strong. I feel accompanied. And I feel hopeful that I’ll find my son soon.”

From Oaxaca, the caravan continued on to Chiapas, where a delegation met with the indigenous pacifist community Las Abejas and the leadership of a Zapatista base community.

The caravan also focused attention on the relatively under-covered dangers faced by undocumented migrants and their advocates in southern Mexico.

Sunday night, the bus loads of drug war victims, human rights activists, observers and journalists received a welcome by thousands ofpeople in Xalapa, the state capital of Veracruz – a city which has recently begun to experience the shoot outs and spike in missing persons cases that have plagued the north.

(Julian LeBaron tape – fade under, reporter interprets)

In Xalapa’s main plaza, Julian LeBaron, a home builder who has lost a brother and a brother in law to the violence in his home state of Chihuahua, told the crowds of people who have lost loved ones that the house that is best protected isn’t the one with the most police guarding it, but rather the one with the most organized residents.

(Julian LeBaron continues, reporter interprets)

LeBaron said that while he is a victim of crime, members of the the movement need to stop viewing themselves as victims and become the agents of the change they want to see.

 (This report was produced for the September 19, 2011 broadcast of Free Speech Radio News. The audio is downloadable here.)

Migrants riding a cargo train in Mexico (credit: Hermanos en el Camino shelter)

Armed men kidnapped what witness say were at least 60 migrants who were travelling on top if a cargo train through southern Mexico. The incident occurred Friday just before the train rolled into the station at Medias Aguas, Veracruz.

Migrants who escaped the kidnapping attempt told staff at the Brothers on the Road migrant shelter that the conductor stopped the train in an area where armed men were waiting with three Suburban style vehicles. The armed men ordered the migrants to get off of the train and get into the vehicles. Many ran into the surrounding countryside and hid. They eventually made their way back to the shelter in Oaxaca to report the incident.

A statement issued Sunday by the Brothers on the Road shelter said it was the first case of a mass kidnapping they’ve registered in months. The shelter also documented a mass kidnapping in December near the town of Chahuites, Oaxaca. Alejandro Solalinde, the priest who founded the shelter organized a caravan in January to call attention to the dangers migrants face on their trek through Mexico.

Organized crime groups who control the flow of drug through Mexico started kidnapping migrants for ransom a few years ago. Mexico’s National Human Rights Commission estimates at least 20 thousand migrants are kidnapped within Mexico each year.

The teachers' protest camp in downtown Oaxaca City

The Sección 22 union local representing public school teachers in Oaxaca announced today that it will maintain its strike through Friday, June 3rd. The strike began on May 23rd and is part of what has become a ritual in budget negotiations with the state government.

Oaxacan teachers have used the tactic of camping out in the streets during May negotiations for nearly three decades now. While it’s effectiveness as a pressure tactic is questionable given its repeated use, it is a common ground for teachers from around the state to meet and it establishes a certain cohesion among the union’s membership.

The camp itself is massive, taking up around 20 city blocks in the state capital, including the central plaza, known as the zócalo.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2c3shwwNJbI

This video shows the teachers’ protest camp on May 27, 2011. It was mostly filmed in the zócalo, which is a jumble of teachers’ tents, street vendors, and occasional cultural events. At the time of the filming, a student band from the Ixtlán district was giving a live concert, complete with the tradition of tossing fruit and other edibles at the audience.

Opinions about the teachers’ regular work stoppages are often polarizing. It’s become common for the local media and business groups to blame the teachers for economic losses and scapegoat them for social ills. A cursory social network search of the terms “maestros” and “Oaxaca” produces multiple results of thinly-veiled calls for the use of violence against the striking teachers.

At the same time, there seems to be little space for constructive criticisms of the union’s actions. Many activist groups appear to have a stake in defending the teachers perhaps because the union has become de-facto the largest and most influential activist organization in Oaxaca. Another reason could be that the usual criticisms tend to be so negative that rejecting them has become the knee-jerk reaction.

Parents unhappy with missed school days rarely address the issue in open meetings, although they will grumble amongst themselves. The union presents its strike actions as measures by which to “defend public education”…but Oaxaca’s public education system consistently ranks last in Mexico-wide evaluations. While the criteria used to create rankings can also be questioned, the fact that Oaxacan public school students receive far fewer classroom instruction hours than their counterparts elsewhere in Mexico is without dispute.

School days missed to “union activities” are not recuperated.

Private schools proliferate across the Oaxaca City area and they are not just for the children of the well-to-do. It’s common for working class people of certain means – market stall vendors for example – to make sacrifices so that their children can attend schools where classes predictably follow the Secretary of Education’s calendar. The frequent cancellation of classes has the effect of pulling students into private schools – ironically, as the teachers’ union carries out actions under the banner of fighting the privatization of public education.

The situation is complex and this post makes no pretense of hitting all the bases. Teaching is one of the few middle-class career options in Oaxaca – something worth consideration when taking into account the larger interests associated with maintaining unionized positions in one of Mexico’s poorest states. Teaching is also a field that has traditionally been more open to women than others. The Sección 22 teachers’ union local has a membership of 70,000, making it a significant sector of the state’s economy.

What’s long overdue is an open, earnest, critical, and constructive conversation among the principal stakeholders in Oaxacan public education: the students, parents, and classroom teachers.

A painted banner from the displaced persons camp in Oaxaca

Families displaced by violence in the Mexican town of San Juan Copala are attempting to return to the homes they fled last year. The rural town in the southern state of Oaxaca declared itself autonomous in January of 2007, but differences among factions in the region led to what many call “a paramilitary siege” which lasted for 10 months.

Download audio file (20110524CC.mp3)

In the early months of the siege armed men blocked vehicular access to and from San Juan Copala and fired shots from the hills that overlook the town. As the situation intensified, snipers targeted the families of those who supported the autonomy project – often wounding people who left their homes or who attempted to flee the town on foot.

By mid-October of 2010, more than a dozen of the small town’s residents were dead and many others had been wounded by gunfire.

Some residents who have escaped the conflict fled to Oaxaca City where they set up a protest camp in front of the Government Palace. Women here swept the side walk this morning ahead of their departure for Mexico City as part of a caravan.

Reyna Martinez Flores is the spokesperson for the Oaxaca City camp and is herself displaced by the conflict.

She says the purpose of the caravan is to demand justice for those who were killed and to gather up the displaced in order to return to the town.

Two caravans of observers attempted to reach San Juan Copala last year. Armed men fired upon the first one, killing a prominent Mexican human rights activist and a Finnish observer. The second caravan was prevented from advancing to the town by a convoy of state police.

I asked Reyna Martinez Flores if the state government of Oaxaca had given assurances that the caravan would be able to reach the town this time.

“We haven’t received any guarantees and we’re well aware of this…but the thing is that we’ve been here for a long time already and the people want to go back to their town, to their homes. The government has been stringing us along …and has even told us that we should wait until there are conditions for our return. But the people are fed up – desperate in the sense that they no longer want to wait until the government decides when it’s time to go back to San Juan Copala.  The displaced persons are the ones who took this decision and we’re going to respect it.”

Those who fled San Juan Copala either sought refuge in the indigenous Triqui region or have been living in the camps that were established last August in the state capital and in Mexico City. Martinez Flores told FSRN that a group of women will remain behind in the Oaxaca City camp in the event that the displaced are unable to return to their town.

[This report originally aired in the May 24, 2011 broadcast of FSRN]

Police reports indicate the ambush occurred at a spot in the road that had been blocked by large mounds of dirt. Three of the trucks the victims were travelling in were set on fire.

A dispute has been festering in Choapam since December, when a local election was annulled due to irregularities. While the conflict may go beyond the simple politics of which political faction controls the town, details have been sparse. The town is a ten hour drive from the state capital, which prevents reporters with same-day deadlines from visiting the crime scene. This logistical detail also means that many of the comments on the situation cited in news reports come from politicians based in the state capital.

Choapan is located near Oaxaca’s border with Veracruz, a region that has experienced it’s share of drug violence. Most of said violence has been in and around the city of Tuxtepec. In the state capital, the massacre has led to furious finger pointing between members of the new reformist government and the party that controlled the state’s politics for 8 decades.

Zapotec class in San Pablo Macuiltianguis, Oaxaca

The Mexican state of Oaxaca is home to 16 different native languages, making it the most linguistically diverse state in Mexico. But many of these languages are fading out as new generations grow up learning and speaking only Spanish. Although attempts to reverse language loss can be an uphill battle, reporter Shannon Young visits one village tackling that challenge – attempting to re-learn their ancestors’ words.

Download audio file (LanguageRecuperation_FSRN20101217.mp3)

San Pablo Macuiltianguis is a small Zapotec town in the northern mountains of the Mexican state of Oaxaca. Like in many towns in this region, the basketball court is the heart of the village.

[Zapotec language drills]

Overlooking the basketball court, on the second floor of the town hall building, around 20 boys and girls are reciting words in Zapotec – a language that most residents under the age of 35 do not speak.

[Kevin speaks, reporter translates over]

Poster with body parts labelled in Zapotec

Nine year-old Kevin says he wants to learn Zapotec so that he can speak it when he’s a grandfather. Like many of these students, Kevin practices Zapotec with his grandparents. That’s because his parents never learned how to speak what was once the town’s primary language.

[Garcia Ruiz speaks, reporter translates over]

Grandmother Maura Garcia Ruiz blames the near-loss of the language in the span of a single generation on a Spanish-only campaign in the schools. She says when she was raising her children, teachers told her they wouldn’t learn well if they didn’t Spanish at home. People on the street reinforced the campaign by scolding her for speaking Zapotec to her children in public. Only the oldest 4 of her 10 children grew up bilingual. Eventually, Zapotec ceased to be the dominant language inside her home.

MAURA GARCIA RUIZ: “After a period of about 20 years we stopped speaking it because our kids didn’t understand. My youngest son speaks nothing of Zapotec. I’d try to mix in some phrases in Zapotec like ‘bring me that firewood’ or ‘pass me some water’ or something. ‘Speak to me right!’ my youngest would say. ‘I don’t understand you.’”

[Cruz Manzano speaking to students]

Teacher Raquel Cruz Manzano and her husband, Benjamin

Professional linguists sometimes use lofty rhetoric to describe their reasons for documenting Mexico’s endangered languages. For Raquel Cruz Manzano, the teacher of the Zapotec language class in Macuiltianguis, the motivation is something more simple.

RAQUEL CRUZ MANZANO: It’s not the same as speaking in Spanish. There’s a richness in conversing in Zapotec – in telling an anecdote or a joke…or even a fantasy tale! Our grandparents past used a lot of fantasy precisely because they didn’t have an appliance like a television that they could turn on to ‘mediatize’ them.”

[Child reading story in Zapotec – fade under]

Cruz Manzano uses fantasy tales as a way to teach her students how to read and write in Zapotec.

This is an important detail because Zapotec – like most of Mexico’s native languages – does not have a practical alphabet. It’s a spoken language, not a written one.

Teacher Cruz Manzano is part of an effort to put Zapotec into writing. The task involves knocking on doors and speaking to elders to

Rainbow with colors listed in Zapotec and Spanish

recover words and get their opinion on how to write them. When there’s a significant disagreement over something like spelling, it’s put before a town hall vote. Cruz Manzano says she performs this unpaid work out of a sense of urgency.

RAQUEL CRUZ MANZANO: “If you don’t do something for your own townspeople, no one else is going to come from elsewhere to pick up the slack. It has to be us, the locals, who realize that our language has a cultural value that’s become scarce like gold or oil and we have to do something.”

Another factor contributing to the loss is the historic stigma attached to speaking a native language. Mexico’s indigenous people were pushed to the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder during colonial times and traces of this caste system still exist. Professor Andres Hernandez Cortes describes his own experience entering a Spanish-only elementary school.

ANDRES HERNANDEZ CORTES: “I suffered a lot of discrimination in the town where I went to school. I was made fun of for speaking a native language. My own teachers and my classmates made fun of me saying that my language wasn’t useful, that it was backwards, that it was a sign of ignorance and poverty.”

The town of Macuiltianguis has a high migration rate – and it might seem that would be another factor fueling the disappearance of Zapotec there – but teacher Raquel Cruz Manzano says migrants are among the most avid promoters of the language recuperation program.

Didactic material made by hand by the teacher and students

RAQUEL CRUZ MANZANO: “We saw it in the response and the way in which we were received by our fellow townspeople who live in the United States. There was a lot of nostalgia because I think distance makes one appreciate certain things more. The same goes for those living in and near Mexico City. They also organized an event for the project and about 150 people showed up. And now, we’re very pleased to say, we have 2 community centers in Mexico City and the state of Mexico.”

Cruz Manzano has also sent teaching materials she authored to former residents of the town who have migrated to California and are passing on Zapotec to their US-born children.

[Kids reciting Zapotec drills – fade under]

But the type of progress evidenced in Macuiltianguis cannot be seen in Oaxaca City – the capitol of the Mexican state with the greatest diversity of native languages. The state university, the only school in the city that offered Zapotec classes, has since discontinued them.

Around 30 Mexican human rights defenders and dozens of Central American migrants planned to board the train known as “The Beast” in the town of Arriaga, Chiapas as part of a caravan to call public attention to the dangers migrants face in southern Mexico. Their destination is Chahuites – a town located across the Oaxaca state line – which has become the scene of a number of crimes targeting migrants who use the train system to move north.

Download audio file (MigrantCaravan20110107sy.mp3)

A group kidnapping of more than 40 migrants last month once again put Chahuites in the national spotlight. Migrants arriving at a migrant shelter in Ixtepec, Oaxaca reported that in the early hours of December 16th, they encountered two groups of armed men along the way.

This man, who made it to the Ixtepec shelter the day after the attack, described the incident in video testimony:

WITNESS: “The train left Arriaga around 8pm. Shortly afterwards, we passed a bridge where immigration agents had set up a check point. Almost everyone scattered. Immigration grabbed some while others escaped and were able to get back on the train. Later, about 20 minutes before reaching a town, the train stopped. I saw how about a dozen guys came running out from a stable. I thought they were coyotes coming to look for customers. But no, they were thieves. They started shooting, people started crying and screaming. Another guy got hit with a machete.

More than 40 people remain missing from the December 16th incident. The armed men who attacked the train are suspected to have ties to the Zetas drug cartel, a criminal organization that has turned kidnapping into a multi-million dollar industry.

Father Alejandro Solalinde, a Catholic priest who runs the migrant shelter in Ixtepec, helped to organize today’s caravan.

(Father Solalinde speaks, reporter translates)

He says the caravan aims not only to make visible the dangers and risks migrants face along the way, but also to encourage the citizenry to seek ways to reverse the situation. The priest says he wants to see the area’s migration route transform from a “humanitarian tragedy” zone to a place of peace and respect for migrants’ rights.

Among the members of the caravan en route to Chahuites is Elvira Arellano – who has continued her immigration rights activism in Mexico after her high-profile deportation from the United States a few years ago.

At deadline the train, which was scheduled to leave Arriage this morning, had not arrived. Caravan members said they would continue to Chahuites on foot.

Mexico’s National Human Rights Commission – or CNDH – documented more than 200 group kidnappings of migrants in 2010 with an average of 50 migrants kidnapped each day. The riskiest routes are in the states of Chiapas, Oaxaca, and Tamaulipas.

Protest Graffitti - Oaxaca City - Sept. 2010

Across Mexico today, celebrations to mark the 100 year anniversary of the start of the Mexican Revolution. Amongst other things, the revolution was considered a victory for the country’s rural poor, who won land rights away from the wealthy elite.

While Mexico today is preoccupied with with the bloody Drug War in the country’s north, small farmers are facing a new fight over land rights in the south.

[dewplayer:http://www.southnotes.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/twtw_MexRevCen.mp3]

[Chants from Oaxaca City march for Copala]

Women march through the streets of Oaxaca City to call attention to the situation in the farming village of San Juan Copala.

Most of these women fled the town this summer during a violent paramilitary offensive that killed about 20 residents.

[Efendia López speaking in Triqui]

Efendia López is one of those who left.

MULT-I protest camp in the Zocalo

She says men, women and children were shot to death. Others were wounded, gang-raped, or received death threats. Like Lopez, many of the displaced have settled in Oaxaca’s state capitol.

They set up a protest camp in the main square of Oaxaca City, desperate for help.

Reina Martínez speaks for the group.

[Reina Martínez speaking in Spanish]

Martínez accuses the state government of being behind the armed groups that have been working in San Juan Copala.

She says the government is exploiting local political differences as part of a deadly divide-and-conquer strategy.

San Juan Copala is home to fertile farm land…but it also has valuable forests…and studies suggest, under all of it, valuable minerals.

San Juan Copala isn’t the only town in Oaxaca where farmers are facing a bleak future.

Opposition to the Paso de la Reina dam

[Juan Gómez speaking in Spanish]

Juan Gómez is with a group fighting a planned hydroelectric dam on the Rio Verde. The project would flood thousands of acres of agricultural land.

Gómez says they’ve tried to convince the federal government to cancel the project, but their campaign hasn’t worked.

Local control of communal farmland was one of the big changes after the Mexican Revolution. It was protected in the country’s Constitution…until 1992, and NAFTA.

Allowing private sale and ownership of farmland was one of the requirements of Mexico signing onto the North American Free Trade Agreement. That, and an end to some subsidies for farmers who made a living off the land.

Almost two decades later, those reforms are one of the reasons behind a big change in Mexican rural society. Millions of farmers have moved to cities – and to the United States – in search of a living.

[José Rodríguez speaking in Spanish]

Environmental consultant Jose Rodríguez says Mexican farmers used to have a guaranteed price for crops like beans

Zapata on a bike on a wall on Avenida Juárez, Oaxaca - 2010

and corn. He says cheap corn from the United States meant price cuts in Mexico…devastating the rural economy.

[sfx of Oaxaca City protest]

That, and the violent fights over valuable resources under all that land has left Efendia Lopez and others at the Oaxaca City protest camp with an uncertain future.

[López speaking in Triqui]

López says she left everything behind…her home…her animals. She says they didn’t do anything to deserve this.

Rural discontent helped fuel the Mexican Revolution that began 100 years ago today. There may be discontent again…but with Mexico now an increasingly urban country, rural life, and those who cling to it, are being left behind.

[NOTE: This report was produced for November 20, 2010 edition of the CBC's "The World This Weekend". All rights reserved by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.]

Oaxaca City's Central de Abastos market

[This report aired on the Oct. 31, 2010 edition of The World This Weekend of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. All rights reserved by the CBC.]

Day of the Dead is probably the most Mexican of holidays. Few celebrate it with as much enthusiasm and color as in the state of Oaxaca. The markets are full in the days before Nov 1^st and 2^nd, as people prepare to honor the dead with food, flowers, and decorated altars.

Download audio file (CBC_DayOfTheDead_aircheck.mp3)

(Emy Colmenares describes altar, reporter translates)

Oaxaca City resident Emy Colmenares describes what she’s putting on the elaborate altar that she builds every year in the front window of her home. It includes several types of fruit, sugar cane, specialty bread, chocolate, statues, photos of loved ones and huge masses of orange and purple flowers.

Colmenares is a firm believer in the tradition behind Day of Dead. She’s bothered by the creeping incursion of American-style Halloween imagery.

(sound of comparsa with live band band)

This culture clash, or combination, of Halloween with Day of the Dead can be clearly seen in the “comparsas” – the street processions that are typical in the run up to Day of the Dead.

In this comparsa, schoolchildren are dressed in a variety of costumes. Some are traditional “huehuentón” dancers from Oaxaca’s

Detail of Emy Colmenares' altar

Mazateca region. Many others are in mass produced Halloween costumes like witches, devils, and vampires.

(live comparsa band music in background)

Christofer Taboada Unda: I like dress in Halloween because it’s fun.

Eight year-old Christofer Taboada Unda is one of the many Oaxacan children who prefer a Halloween costume to the more traditional options. This year, he’s dressing up as the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland.

Reporter: Why choose a Halloween costume instead of a Day of the Dead costume?

Christofer Taboada Unda: For Halloween costumes are more fun because they are from movies.

There are still children who get rather creative with their Day of the Dead costumes. Hidalia Santos dedicated several days to making an elaborate homemade outfit with her son, Jorge. He’s dressed up as a walking Day of the Dead altar.

Family decorating a grave in Oaxaca City's municipal cemetery

(roll tape Hidalia Santos – reporter translates)

Santos says Jorge was inspired by the altars he’s seen in his house and community. She adds that she has nothing against Halloween and that it can be fun…but that it’s important to not sideline or forget the Mexican tradition.

(sound of scrubbing graves in the cemetery)

If the throngs of people buying items in the market and tidying up the cemetery are any indication, the tradition of honoring the dearly departed and the identity it instills remain strong in this corner of Mexico.