Oaxaca Quotes

I have myself eaten the hallucinogenic mushroom, psilocybe, a divine ambrosia in immemorial use among the Masatec Indians of Oaxaca Province, Mexico; hear the priestess invoke Tlaloc, the Mushroom-god, and seen transcendental visions. Thus I wholeheartedly agree with R. Gordon Wasson, the American discoverer of this ancient rite, that European ideas of heaven and hell may well have derived from similar mysteries.

As far as we could tell, the face of the revolution was a sea of embroidering women, patiently waiting the resignation of their repressive governor.

Para todo mal, mezcal, y para todo bien, tambien. - A Oaxacan Proverb

Hortensia set the tray down and brought a shawl and wrapped it protectively around Mama’s shoulders. Esperanza couldn’t remember a time when Hortensia had not taken care of them. She was a Zapotec Indian from Oaxaca, with a short, solid figure and blue-black hair in a braid down her back. Esperanza watched the two women look out into the dark and couldn’t help but think that Hortensia was almost the opposite of Mama.

There weren’t so many transvestite prostitutes in Oaxaca in those days; Flor really stood out, and not only because she was tall. She was almost beautiful; what was beautiful about her truly wasn’t affected by the softest-looking trace of a mustache on her upper lip, though Lupe noticed it.

Catalina’s mother was from France. My father is from Veracruz and my mother from Oaxaca. We are Mazatec on her side. What is your point?” she asked flatly.

way the government clears migrants from the trains in some places, spending millions of pesos and dollars to build those track-fences in Oaxaca and Chiapas and Mexico state, all while turning a blind eye in other locations.

If only I could cry. I am beyond that. The light, the light, lending itself to empty downtown Saturday, but still the stupid insensate cars flush by oblivious to their stupidity, my silent plea. It isn't Mexico. It's not Paris. It's a painting by Hopper come to life. I am trapped inside a dead thing. Language is impossible here, even in English. Who has the arrogance to say: I'm mad, this is my crazy view of things, help me. I'm trapped in a silent world, a tableau of forty years ago. The walls are different, the tables, the heights of the veiling and the chairs. I loom above this letter. The view past the rows of cakes in the plate glass window is unfamiliar. I am a ghost. There is nothing now between me and death. Death is the unfamiliarity of everything, the strangeness of the once familiar. The same spatial configurations only the light is hollow, sick. I think I lack the energy to hit expensive discos which I don't know where they are to be rejected tonight. I look passable. My energy's low. I love to dance but despair is not a good muse. This Mexico, babe. Men who don't love you but act wildly as if they do initially. Self-involved, narcissistic men... The men drink and philosophize about pain. The women live it solo and culturelessly. No one cries, except easily, sentimentally. The devil, therefore God, exists. Oaxaca was a pushover compared to this. Pain had boundaries there. Spare us big cities, oh lord!

A liberdade se faz inteira debaixo da palavra, entre um músico Tang e um jarro de Oaxaca. (...) Benzinho, estamos invertendo a poesia de Eliot. Estamos curando o resfriado de Madame Sosostris, e esta coisa da alegria ainda vai dar muito certo.

Saa nane za usiku timu nzima ya Vijana wa Tume ilirudi San Ángel katika helikopta ya DEA, tayari kwa safari ya Salina Cruz katika jimbo la Oaxaca. Kukamatwa kwa Gortari, Eduardo na Dongyang ulikuwa ushindi mkubwa wa kwanza wa Tume ya Dunia. Ushindi huo ukalipua wimbi la kukamatwa kwa wahalifu wa kimataifa, wa Kolonia Santita, dunia nzima.

In Mexico, dishes pile up in the sink just as fast as in the States, goddamn it.

Having ferned for an hour, we take a break for our lunch and I eat, unwisely, quite an enormous meal....

When writing my Leg book, I drew heavily on the detailed journals I had kept as a patient in 1974. Oaxaca Journal, too, relied heavily on my handwritten notebooks. But for the most part, I rarely look at the journals I have kept for the greater part of a lifetime. The act of writing is itself enough; it serves to clarify my thoughts and feelings. The act of writing is an integral part of my mental life; ideas emerge, are shaped, in the act of writing.

Both your coloration and your hair. They are much darker than Catalina’s. I imagine they reflect your Indian heritage rather than the French. You do have some Indian in you, no? Like most of the mestizos here do.” “Catalina’s mother was from France. My father is from Veracruz and my mother from Oaxaca. We are Mazatec on her side. What is your point?” she asked flatly. The old man smiled. A closed smile, no teeth. She could picture his teeth, yellowed and broken.

[A]ll of the experiments in government from below, whether during the U.S. Revolution or recently in Oaxaca, were shortlived. They would be deemed to be failures by many but the very fact that they happened at all makes them small victories. [W]e must maintain the necessary humility to work out how to make these dreams more lasting, first of all by working together and combining what is best from the anarchist and Marxist traditions. Yet it is still important to remember the victories and the people who made them.

Algo. En estos días, tienes que ser "algo" con alguien si no quieres ser "nada" con alguien. Por lo mismo, nuestra "relación", si es que puede llamársele "relación" a lo que teníamos, bueh, podía decirse que era clandestina. Poco nos importaba, sin embargo, lo que dijeran los demás. Porque nos teníamos. Nos teníamos y no nos íbamos a dejar ir (...) El consenso entre las diferentes voces que opinaban en mi cabeza había sido atribuir su conducta a las hormonas, pero yo le concedía todas las razones a la voluntad. Veloe era quien era porque así quería ser. Lo que comenzó como una inocente comida de vengan-a-conocer-a-mi-nuevo-novio, se transformó en un "cándido afecto" que, con el paso de los meses, se convirtió en un "frondoso encanto", el cual terminaría en una "loca infatuación". Un año después de subirme a aquel elevador, Veloe y yo nos amábamos hasta las lágrimas. Dicen que a las mujeres no hay que entenderlas sino amarlas, y en verdad que su amable y atento servidor no podría estar en desacuerdo con esa sagrada afirmación; pero yo no sólo amaba a Veloe, sino que la leía. Aprendí a leer a Veloe como a nadie; podía leerla con la tibia luz de la lámpara de la mesa de noche o con el sol quemante de las playas de Oaxaca, tirado en un camastro, cavando surcos en la arena con los pies. Podía leerla en el tren subterráneo, rodeado de parroquianos, o en la paz de la santa capilla, tirado en la alfombra, de pie o sentado, de cabeza o sobre las puntas de los dedos, exhausto o recién levantado, en ayunas, después de una pesada comida, lejos, en braille o con letra script. Entendí que es cosa complicada aprender a leer a una mujer, y que es tarea que puede extenderse por años. Por vidas enteras. Algunas mujeres son libros pequeños, de bolsillo, fácilmente manejables. Otras son pesados, de pasta dura, con el gramaje grueso y poco amable con los dedos. Algunas tienen prólogo y otras epílogo, y unas cuantas ambos. Algunas carecen de forros o están deshojadas. Nadie puede leer a todas las mujeres del mundo así como nadie puede leer todos los libros del mundo. Y del mismo modo que, dicen los románticos, ciertos libros nos escogen, algunas mujeres nos eligen, en silencio, y esperan a que las leamos... -Pixie (3) de Ruy Xoconostle W. (fragmento)

When “free trade” was imposed upon the Ottoman Empire in 1838 and British cloth “flooded the market in Izmir,” local cotton workers lost their ability to maintain their old production regime. In coastal southeastern Africa, cotton yarn and cloth imports also began to devastate the local cotton textile industry. In Mexico, European cotton imports had a serious impact on local manufacturing—before tariffs enabled Mexican industrialization, Guadalajara’s industry had been, as one historian found, “virtually eliminated.” In Oaxaca, 450 out of 500 looms ceased operating. In China, the 1842 Treaty of Nanking forced the opening of markets, and the subsequent influx of European and North American yarn and cloth had a “devastating” effect, especially on China’s hand spinners.22

Meli ya kwanza kuondoka katika Bandari ya Salina Cruz kusini mwa Meksiko katika Bahari ya Pasifiki ni 'La Diosa de los Mares', 'Mungu wa Bahari', au 'Goddess of the Seas', Tani 6000, iliyoondoka saa tisa kamili usiku kuelekea Miami nchini Marekani; wakati ya mwisho kuondoka ilikuwa CSS ('Colonia Santita of the Seas', Tani 10000), na SPD ('El Silencio Depredador del Profundo', 'Mnyama Mtulivu wa Kina Kirefu', 'The Silent Predator of the Deep' – nyambizi ya Panthera Tigrisi), zilizoondoka saa kumi na moja alfajiri kuelekea Guatemala na Kolombia. Salina Cruz ni sehemu iliyopo kandokando mwa Bahari ya Pasifiki kusini kabisa mwa Meksiko na kaskazini-mashariki kwa Reparo Jicara katika jimbo la Oaxaca. Kambi ya Panthera Tigrisi ilijengwa ndani ya Msitu wa Benson Bennett – katika ufuko wa bahari kubwa kuliko zote ulimwenguni, iliyopuliza hewa na kuyumbisha miti anuai juu ya maabara kubwa kuliko zote katika Hemisifia ya Magharibi; ya kokeini, heroini, bangi, eksitasi na hielo ya China na Kolombia. Panthera Tigrisi alikamatwa katika Bahari ya Pasifiki. Kahima Kankiriho alikamatwa katika Msitu wa Bennett.

CAN WE TRUST ANYTHING THE NEW YORK TIMES SAYS ABOUT IMMIGRATION? In 2008, the world’s richest man, Carlos Slim Helu, saved the Times from bankruptcy. When that guy saves your company, you dance to his tune. So it’s worth mentioning that Slim’s fortune depends on tens of millions of Mexicans living in the United States, preferably illegally. That is, unless the Times is some bizarre exception to the normal pattern of corruption—which you can read about at this very minute in the Times. If a tobacco company owned Fox News, would we believe their reports on the dangers of smoking? (Guess what else Slim owns? A tobacco company!) The Times impugns David and Charles Koch for funneling “secret cash” into a “right-wing political zeppelin.”1 The Kochs’ funding of Americans for Prosperity is hardly “secret.” What most people think of as “secret cash” is more like Carlos Slim’s purchase of favorable editorial opinion in the Newspaper of Record. It would be fun to have a “Sugar Daddy–Off” with the New York Times: Whose Sugar Daddy Is More Loathsome? The Koch Brothers? The Olin Foundation? Monsanto? Halliburton? Every time, Carlos Slim would win by a landslide. Normally, Slim is the kind of businessman the Times—along with every other sentient human being—would find repugnant. Frequently listed as the richest man in the world, Slim acquired his fortune through a corrupt inside deal giving him a monopoly on telecommunications services in Mexico. But in order to make money from his monopoly, Slim needs lots of Mexicans living in the United States, sending money to their relatives back in Oaxaca. Otherwise, Mexicans couldn’t pay him—and they wouldn’t have much need for phone service, either—other than to call in ransom demands. Back in 2004—before the Times became Slim’s pimp—a Times article stated: “Clearly . . . the nation’s southern border is under siege.”2 But that was before Carlos Slim saved the Times from bankruptcy. Ten years later, with a border crisis even worse than in 2004, and Latin Americans pouring across the border, the Times indignantly demanded that Obama “go big” on immigration and give “millions of immigrants permission to stay.”3

Para todo mal, mezcal, y para todo bien, tambien." - A Oaxacan Proverb

tactical refusal of confrontation is itself only a stratagem of warfare. It’s easy to understand, for example, why the Oaxaca Commune immediately declared itself peaceful. It wasn’t a matter of refuting war, but of refusing to be defeated in a confrontation with the Mexican state and its henchmen. As some Cairo comrades explained it, “One mustn’t mistake the tactic we employ when we chant ‘nonviolence’ for a fetishizing of non-violence

The Lima merchant's correspondent in Mexico City was Simon Vaez de Sevilla.16 Vaez de Sevilla had associates in Manila (who provided him with Asian commodities), Oaxaca (who provided him with cochineal), and Guatemala (who provided him with cacao and tobacco).17 All these goods were thus made available to the Lima merchant and were regularly sent down to Peru along the Pacific route or through Cartagena de Indias. Bautista Perez also depended on a number of suppliers-Diego Rodriguez de Lisboa, Enrique de Andrade, and Agustin Perez-in Lisbon and Seville to send him a range of European goods for sale in Lima and throughout Peru. Each of these suppliers had his own network of associates and correspondents on whom he, in turn, relied for provisioning. Given their location in what were two of the great European entrepots of the time, these Lisbon- and Seville-based merchants were often able to purchase on the spot the goods requested by Bautista Perez. They simply had to make the necessary arrangements with local brokers and merchants who specialized in bringing textiles and manufactured goods from the wider European economy (see Figure 4.1).18

Radia Hosni alikuwa na bahati kuliko watu wote duniani. Frederik Mogens alipofika katika helikopta na kukuta Murphy na Yehuda wakihangaika kuutafuta mwili wa Radia, hakushangazwa na walichomwambia. Kwa sababu alijua nini kilitokea. Radia alikutwa akipumua kwa mbali. Hivyo, Debbie na marubani walimchukua na kumpeleka Mexico City haraka ilivyowezekana. Black Hawk waliyokuwa wakiishangaa ilikuwa ya DEA. Lakini si ile waliyokwenda nayo Oaxaca. Ilikuwa nyingine ya DEA, iliyotumwa na Randall Ortega kuwachukua Vijana wa Tume na kuwapeleka Mexico City haraka ilivyowezekana. Black Hawk waliyokwenda nayo Oaxaca ndiyo iliyomchukua Radia na Debbie na kuwapeleka Altamirano (hospitali ya tume) mjini Mexico City. Mogens angekwenda pia na akina Debbie; lakini alibaki kwa ajili ya kumlinda El Tigre, na mizigo yake, na baadhi ya makamanda wake wachache. El Tigre angeweza kutoroka kama angebaki na polisi peke yao, na Mogens hakutaka kufanya makosa.

In the 1970s the geographer Anne Kirkby discovered that Indian farmers in Oaxaca considered it not worth their while to clear and plant a milpa unless it could produce more than about two hundred pounds of grain per acre. Using this figure, Kirkby went back to the ancient cobs excavated from Tehuacán Valley and tried to estimate how much grain per acre they would have yielded. The cob sizes steadily increased as they approached the present. In Kirkby’s calculation, the harvest broke the magic two-hundred-pound line sometime between 2000 and 1500 B.C. At about that time, the first evidence of large-scale land clearing for milpas appears in the archaeological record. And with it appeared the Olmec, Mesoamerica’s first great civilization.

Remember Oaxaca? The word was like a breaking heart, a sudden peal of stifled bells in a gale, the last syllables of one dying of thirst in the desert.

Yet they had loved one another! But it was as though their love were wandering over some desolate cactus plain, far from here, lost, stumbling and falling, attacked by wild beasts, calling for help—dying, to sigh at last, with a kind of weary peace: Oaxaca.

A day or so later, the formal celebrations ended, less raucously, with ritual all-nighters at grave sites in rural villages outside Oaxaca bidding the dead farewell.

Here in Mexico, Boone is saying, you have to use your brains to know what’s going on. In the States everything is published, organized, known. Here it is under the surface, the mind is challenged all the while.

Uno no se hace mexicano de la noche a la mañana; mucho menos porque coma mole o se vista de charro. Ser mexicano no es nacer en México, es latir en verde, blanco y rojo; es respetar la patria; es entender que somos un país mestizo; es llevar en la mente las montañas de Puebla, la risa de los niños de Oaxaca y las curiosas leyendas de la Ciudad de México. Por eso yo puedo ser mexicana fuera de mi país, pero Maximiliano no puede ser mexicano aún gobernándolo.

Entendiste que hay diferentes tipos de fe, mas la que debe evitarse a toda cosa es la fanática irracional. Comenzaste a darte cuenta de que la Iglesia católica en México no representaba esa fe de pobreza y cuestionamiento y querías. Ellos no imitaban la vida de Cristo, poco les importaban las condiciones de las indígenas, mezclaban la religión con la política y con engaños se adueñaban de la tierra de los campesinos para hacerlos trabajar en ellas. Tú visto a los más pobres ahorrar todo el año para pagar el diezmo. Te dolía, y con justa razón, lo que estaba sucediendo en todo el país. Si te hubieras quedado en San Pablo Guelatao en lugar de bajar a Oaxaca, habrías sido víctima de la ambición de aquellos sacerdotes.

Maria Sabina Magdalena Garcia (July 22, 1894, Huautla de Jimenez, Oaxaca - November 23, 1985) was a curandera and shaman of the Mazatec indigenous ethnicity of the state of Oaxaca in Mexico. She subverted patriarchal theology by invoking the Divine Feminine in her entrancing chants.

Oaxaca 1925 You were a beautiful child With a troubled face, green eyelids And black lace stockings We met in a filthy bar You said "My name is Nada I don't want anything from you I will not take from you I will give you nothing" I took you home down alleys Splattered with moonlight and garbage and cats To your desolate disheveled room Your feet were dirty The lacquer was chipped on your fingernails We spent a week hand in hand Wandering entranced together Through a sweltering summer Of guitars and gunfire and tropical leaves And black shadows in the moonlight A lifetime ago

Su incapacidad de quedarse en la oficina (que es su casa) para estudiar junto con su gabinete los problemas a profundidad y la ruta a seguir lo lleva a recorrer el país frenéticamente. El 21 de marzo AMLO visitó Oaxaca para conmemorar el natalicio de Benito Juárez. Un día antes, grupos indígenas de la Sierra Norte de Oaxaca le pidieron reconsiderar la visita ante el temor por el coronavirus.64 AMLO hizo caso omiso. En su adicción, todavía el 1º de abril llegó a hacer un mitin en Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca, siguiendo ciertos protocolos de salud, razón por la cual sólo había unas cuantas personas escuchándolo.

Al terminar la ceremonia, don Marcos se volvió hacia mí y dijo: —Porfirio, quiero que conozcas al licenciado Juárez, gobernador de Oaxaca. Y saludé, por primera vez, al zapoteco.

De haber tenido más tiempo, habría asimilado que lo que tenía frente a él era un hombre disfrazado de simio. Pero durante ese instante de confusión el chango elevó el doble cañón de su escopeta Mossberg hasta la altura de los ojos del Oaxaca y disparó.

Valiéndome de los discursos liberales y la corriente positivista me propuse crear una identidad para todos los mexicanos, un nacionalismo que nos hiciera sentir orgullosos lo mismo en Coahuila que en Oaxaca, en Baja California que en Yucatán, y la historia nacional y la antropología eran un campo perfecto para realizar aquella proeza. Se inició la creación de mitos (como el de los Niños Héroes) y de héroes patrios sin mancha (como Benito Juárez), así como la enseñanza de batallas importantes (como la batalla del 5 de mayo).

Tony stood his ground for a hot minute. Pete rolled up his window. Antonia Soria’s six dogs snarled and circled, their hackles up and their teeth bared. They hadn’t killed a man yet, but the yet was displayed prominently in their expressions. This was how Tony came to be on the roof of the Mercury when the lights of Bicho Raro began to flicker on. Now that the lights were coming on, it was obvious that there were owls everywhere. There were horned owls and elf owls, long-eared owls and short-eared owls. Barn owls with their ghostly ladies’ faces, and screech owls with their shaggy frowns. Dark-eyed barred owls and spotted owls. Stygian owls with eyes that turned red in lights at night—these owls weren’t originally from Colorado, but like the Soria family, they had come from Oaxaca to Bicho Raro and decided to stay.

the first documented rise of a primary state in the New World is that in Mexico’s Oaxaca Valley, between 100 BC and AD 200.

I'm not sure why, but my instinct today is to go with the taste of home. Some chicken thighs, some poblano peppers, a bag of rice, Mexican crema (I'm surprised to find the real stuff, not that whipped-cream-looking shit they serve in Tex-Mex restaurants). Tortillas and Oaxaca cheese. I lose myself in the aisles, fingers trailing over heirloom tomatoes, herbs and produce and packets of exotic spices I can never find at home.

El índice de progreso social (SPI, por sus siglas en inglés) mide el cumplimiento de los países con las necesidades sociales de sus ciudadanos. Aspira a ser una medida más ilustrativa que el PIB en términos de bienestar. En 2019 México se ubicó en el lugar 55 de 149, un lugar por debajo de su nivel en producción per cápita. Esto le permitió alcanzar un nivel de progreso social “medio alto”, similar al de los países latinoamericanos, excepto Chile y Argentina. No obstante, dentro del país existen marcadas desigualdades regionales. Nuevo León, Querétaro y Aguascalientes son los estados con mayor puntaje, mientras que Chiapas, Guerrero y Oaxaca, los de peor.131

It was a country of slavery, where human beings were sold like cattle, and its native peoples, the Yaquis, the Papagos, the Tomasachics, exterminated through deportation, or reduced to worse than peonage, their lands in thrall or the hands of foreigners. And in Oaxaca lay the terrible Valle Nacional where Juan himself, a bona-fide slave aged seven, had seen an older brother beaten to death, and another, bought for forty-five pesos, starved to death in seven months, because it was cheaper this should happen, and the slave-holder buy another slave, than simply have one slave better fed merely worked to death in a year. All this spelt Porfirio Diaz: rurales everywhere, jefes políticos, and murder, the extirpation of liberal political institutions, the army an engine of massacre, an instrument of exile. Juan knew this, having suffered it; and more. For later in the revolution, his mother was murdered. And later still Juan himself killed his father, who had fought with Huerta, but turned “traitor. Ah, guilt and sorrow had dogged Juan's footsteps too, for he was not a Catholic who could rise refreshed from the cold bath of confession. Yet the banality stood: that the past was irrevocably past. And conscience had been given man to regret it only in so far as that might change the future. For man, every man, Juan seemed to be telling him, even as Mexico, must ceaselessly struggle upward. What was life but a warfare and a stranger's sojourn? Revolution rages too in the tierra caliente of each human soul. No peace but that must pay full toll to hell.

Oaxaca... The word was like a breaking heart, a sudden peal of stifled bells in a gale, the last syllables of one dying of thirst in the desert.

Night: and once again, the nightly grapple with death, the room shaking with daemonic orchestras, the snatches of fearful sleep, the voices outside the window, my name being continually repeated with scorn by imaginary parties arriving, the dark's spinnets. As if there were not enough real noises in these nights the colour of grey hair. Not like the rending tumult of American cities, the noise of the unbandaging of great giants in agony. But the howling pariah dogs, the cocks that herald dawn all night, the drumming, the moaning that will be found later white plumage huddled on telegraph wires in back gardens or fowl roosting in apple trees, the eternal sorrow that never sleeps of great Mexico. For myself I like to take my sorrow into the shadow of old monasteries, my guilt into cloisters and under tapestries, and into the misericordes of unimaginable cantinas where sad-faced potters and legless beggars drink at dawn, whose cold jonquil beauty one rediscovers in death. So that when you left, Yvonne, I went to Oaxaca. There is no sadder word. Shall I tell you, Yvonne, of the terrible journey there through the desert over the narrow gauge railway on the rack of a third-class carriage bench, the child whose life its mother and I saved by rubbing its belly with tequila out of my bottle, or of how, when I went to my room in the hotel where we once were happy, the noise of slaughtering below in the kitchen drove me out into the glare of the street, and later, that night, there was a vulture sitting in the washbasin? Horrors portioned to a giant nerve! No, my secrets are of the grave and must be kept. And this is how I sometimes think of myself, as a great explorer who has discovered some extraordinary land from which he can never return to give his knowledge to the world: but the name of this land is hell.

There was a good reason for Oaxaca being unaltered, and unalterable. A few days after arriving in this colonial town in a high valley, justly celebrated for its beauty and its traditions, I was reminded again of how “the past of a place survives in its poor”—how the poor tend to keep their cultural identity intact. They depend on its compass and continuity and its pleasures for their self-esteem, while the rising classes and the rich tend to rid themselves of their old traditions, except in a showy or ritualized way, because they became wealthy by resisting them and breaking rules.

Así, en esa elección, 9 legislaturas votaron por Guerrero y 11 legislaturas sufragaron por Gómez Pedraza, entre ellas la de Oaxaca. El general Guerrero desconoció el mandato de las legislaturas. Sus partidarios, encabezados por un militar que habría de figurar más adelante, Antonio López de Santa Anna, declararon que una conspiración pro-española, aristócrata, había corrompido la elección en México. Guerrero dio su aval al movimiento.

Difficult to believe what hurts so much when the cement truck bounces you off a tree trunk is not solid knocking solid but electron cloud repulsing electron cloud around the overall emptiness of matter, a clash of miniscule probabilities in the beehive of the void. Somehow you're only scratched and bruised but the driver's in agony, no license no immigration paper a picture of his wife still in Oaxaca five kids he sends money to so you try to assure him you're okay look not hurt hopping foot to foot which only seems to him you've got trauma to the head or were already loco either way problemo. Your bicycle bent, he lifts it tears in his eyes which are mirrors showing everything on fire in black water...

No, general. Se preocupó mucho de nosotros, sus científicos y aduladores, de que nosotros nos mantuviéramos felices, de que sus amigos tuvieran un cargo público; se volvió sordo a los abucheos, ciego a los indígenas hambrientos, como usted lo fue alguna vez en Oaxaca.

In Oaxaca, ancient indigenous traditions and ingredients define not only the mescal, but also the food.

[Sin ese libro], tú no podrías escuchar nada sobre nuestra tradición de resistencia femenina a la opresión, que se remonta a la mujer nativa que tomó los techos de las casas en lo que luego se convertiría en México e "hizo llover dardos y piedras" sobre los invasores españoles. O a la mujer que, en Oaxaca, demandó a su esposo por abuso y logró que su caso llegara a la corte en 1630. O a las mujeres Maya que encerró al cura español en su iglesia por no aceptar que se enterraran a las víctimas mayas de una epidemia de tifus en tierras de la iglesia. O a las masivas "Revueltas del Maíz" de 1962 realizadas por mujeres que se rehusaban a morir de hambre. [Without a book like this] you would not hear about our tradition of female resistance to oppression, going back to Aztec women who took to the rooftops in what later became Mexico City and ‘rained down darts and stones’ on the invading Spainiards. Or the woman who filed suit in Oaxaca against her husband for abuse and had her case heard in court-in 1630! Or the Maya women who lackeed up the local Spanish priest in his church for not having Maya victims of a typhus epidemic buried in church ground. And the massive ‘Corn Riots’ of 1692 by women who refused to starve.

Kofia za chuma au sandarusi zenye uwezo wa kukwepesha risasi za wadunguzi na kuzuia mpaka risasi tatu za AK-47, ijapokuwa zimetengenezwa kuzuia risasi moja tu, ni miongoni mwa vitu 17 vilivyobebwa na makomandoo wa Tume ya Dunia; wakati wakitekeleza Operesheni ya Kifo au Ushindi Kamili (operesheni ndogo ya Operation Devil Cross ya Tume ya Dunia) katika Msitu wa Benson Bennett, Salina Cruz, Oaxaca, nchini Meksiko. Thamani ya vitu vya komandoo mmoja wa EAC ('Executive Action Corps') akiwa vitani ni zaidi ya dola za Kimarekani 65,000; ikiwa ni pamoja na magwanda ya jeshi ('Ghillie Suits'), kofia za chuma, miwani ya kuonea usiku (yenye uwezo wa kubinuka chini na juu), redio na mitambo ya mawasiliano migongoni mwao juu ya vizibao vya kuzuia risasi, vitibegi vya msalaba mwekundu ('Blowout kits' – katika mapaja ya miguu yao ya kulia, ndani yake kukiwa na pisto na madawa ya huduma ya kwanza), vitibegi vya kujiokolea ('Evasion Kits' – katika mapaja ya miguu yao ya kushoto, ndani yake kukiwa na visu na pesa na ramani ya Meksiko) na bunduki za masafa marefu.

of the Radishes When Spanish explorers brought radishes to Mexico in the 16th century, farmers near the modern-day city of Oaxaca quickly started farming the veggies. Unfortunately, nobody wanted to buy them. Not knowing what to do with all the extra produce, vendors began carving the radishes into ornate shapes and using the vegetable sculptures to lure customers to their produce stands. Amazingly, it worked. The novelty items became so popular that farmers began leaving their radishes in the ground long after harvest season, letting them grow into bizarrely shaped behemoths. Now, December 23 is known as Noche de Rabanos (Night of the Radishes). Oaxacans celebrate it each year by gathering in the town square to display and admire elaborately detailed radishes modeled into saints, nativity scenes, and even the town itself.

They saw it as a food of the gods, and believed that the cacao tree originally grew only in Paradise, but was stolen and brought to mankind by their god Quetzalcoatl, who descended from heaven on a beam of the morning star, carrying a cacao tree.

The feelings are similar, in some ways, to those one has in Rome or Athens, but quite different in other ways, because this culture is so different: so completely sun-oriented, sky-oriented, wind- and weather-oriented, as a start. The buildings face outward, life faces outward, whereas in Greece and Rome the focus is inward:

Grasshoppers, by a special biblical dispensation, are kosher, unlike most invertebrates.