Twelve Women in the Twelfth Year
 

     During the 12th year of the EZLN, many kilometers, and at a great distance from Peking, 12 women meet March
     8th with their faces erased...

     I. Yesterday...
     A face wreathed in black still leaves the eyes free and a few hairs dangling from the head. In that gaze is the glitter
     of one who searches. An M-1 carbine held in front, in that position called "assault," and a pistol strapped to the
     waist. Over the left side of the chest, that place where hopes and convictions reside, she carries the rank of
     Infantry Major of an insurgent army which has called itself, this cold dawn of January 1, 1994, the Zapatista Army
     of National Liberation. Under her command is a rebel column which takes the former capital of that southeastern
     Mexican state Chiapas, San Cristobal de Las Casas. The central park of San Cristobal is deserted. Only the
     indigenous men and women under her command, are witness to the moment in which the Major, a rebel
     indigenous tzotzil woman, takes the national flag and gives it to the commanders of the rebellion, those called "The
     Indigenous Clandestine Revolutionary Committee". Over the radio, the Major says: "We have recovered the Flag.
     10-23 over." At 0200 southeastern time, of January 1 of 1994. It is 0100 hours of the new year for the rest of the
     world, but she has waited 10 years to say tohose words. She came to the mountains of the Lacandon Jungle in
     December of 1984, not yet 20 years of age and yet carrying the marks of a whole history of indigenous
     humiliation on her body. In December of 1984, this brown woman says "Enough is Enough!", but she says it so
     softly that only she hears herself. In January of 1994, this woman and several thousand indigenous people not only
     say but yell "Enough is Enough!", so loudly that all the world hears them...

     Outside of San Cristobal another rebel column commanded by a man, the only one with light skin and a large nose
     who belongs to the indigenous who attack the city, has just finished taking police headquarters. Freed from these
     clandestine jails are the indigenous who were spending the new year in jail for the most terrible crime in the
     Chiapanecan southeast; that of being poor. Eugenio Asparuk is the name of the insurgent Captain, indigenous
     rebel tzeltal, who together with the enormous nose is now overseeing the search and seizure at the headquarters.
     When the Major's message arrives, Insurgent Captain Pedro, indigenous rebel chol, has finished taking the
     headquarters of the Federal Highway Police and has secured the road which connects San Cristobal with Tuxtla
     Gutierrez; Insurgent Captain Ubilio, indigenous rebel tzeltal has taken the entryways to the north of the city and
     with it the symbol of the government handouts to the indigenous people, the National Indigenous Institute.
     Insurgent Captain Guillermo, indigenous rebel chol, has taken the highest point of the city. From there he
     commands with his sight the surprised silence which peers out the windows of the houses and the buildings.
     Insurgent Captains Gilberto and Noe, Indigenous tzotzil and tzeltal respectively, and equally rebellious, end their
     take-over of the state judicial police headquarters and set it on fire before marching on to secure the other side of
     the city which leads to the barracks of the 31st Military Zone in Rancho Nuevo.

     At 0200 hours, southeastern time of January 1 of 1994, 5 insurgent officials, indigenous rebel men, hear over the
     radio the voice of their commander, an indigenous rebel woman saying "We have recovered the flag. 10-23 over."
     They repeat this to their troops, men and woman, all indigenous rebels in their totality and translate the words "We
     have begun...".

     At the municipal palace, the Major organizes the defense of the positions which will protect the men and women
     who now govern the city, a city now under the rule of indigenous rebels. A woman who is armed protects them.

     Among the indigenous commanders there is a tiny woman, even tinier than those around her. A face wreathed in
     black still leaves the eyes free and a few hairs dangling from the head. In that gaze is the glitter of one who
     searches. A 12 calibre sawed-off shotgun hangs from her back. With the traditional dress of the women from San
     Andres, Ramona walks down from the mountains, together with a hundred more women, towards the city of San
     Cristobal on that last night of 1993. Together with Susana and other indigenous men she is part of that indian
     command of the war which birthed 1994, the Candestine Indigenous Revolutionary Committee-General
     Command of the EZLN. Comandante Ramona will, with her size and her brilliance, surprise, the international
     press when she appears during the first Dialogues for Peace held in the Cathedral and pulls from her backpack the
     national flag re- taken by the Major on January 1st. Ramona does not know then, nor do we, but she already
     carries in her body an illness which eats her life away in huge bites and dims her voice and her gaze. Ramona and
     the Major, the only women in the Zapatista delegation who show themselves to the world for the first time declare:
     "For all intents and purposes we were already dead, we meant absolutely nothing" and with this they almost count
     the humiliation and abandonment. The Major translates to Ramon the questions of the reporters. Ramona nods
     and understands, as though the answers she is asked for had always been there, in that tiny figure which laughs at
     the Spanish language and at the ways of the city women. Ramona laughs when she does not know she is dying.
     And when she knows, she still laughs. Before she did not exist for anyone, now she exists, as a woman, as an
     indigenous woman, as a rebel woman. Now Ramona lives, a woman belonging to that race which must die in
     order to live...

     The Major watches the light take the streets of San Cristobal. Her soldiers organize the defense of the old city of
     Jovel and the protection of the men and women who in those moments sleep, indigenous and mestizos, all equally
     surprised. The Major, this indigenous rebel woman has taken their city. Hundreds of armed indigenous people
     surround the old City. A woman who is armed commands them...

     Minutes later the rebels will take the city of Las Margaritas, hours later the government forces which defend
     Ocosingo, Altamirano, and Chanal will surrender. Huixtan and Oxchuc are taken by a column which is heading
     towards the principal jail of San Cristobal. Seven cities are now in insurgent hands following the 7 words of the
     Major.

     The war for the word has begun...

     In other places, other women, indigenous and rebellious have re-made that piece of history which they have been
     given and which until that day of January 1, had been carried in silence. They also have no name or face.

     IRMA, Insurgent Infantry Captain.
     The chol woman Irma leads one of the guerrilla columns which takes the plaza at Ocosingo that January 1 of
     1994. From one of the edges of the central park, together with the soldiers under her command, she attacks the
     guarnicion inside the municipal palace until they surrender. Then Irma undoes her braid and her hair falls to her
     waist as though to say "here I am, free and new, Captain Irma's hair shines, and continues to shine even as the
     night falls over an Ocosingo in rebel hands...

     LAURA, Insurgent Infantry Captain.
     Tzotzil woman, fierce in battle and fiercely committed to learning and teaching, Laura becomes the Captain of a
     unit composed completely of men. Not only that, but they are all novices as well. With patience, in the way of the
     mountain which has watched her grow, Laura teaches and gives orders. When the men under her command have
     doubts, she shows them by doing. No one carries as much or walks as much as she does. After the attack on
     Ocosingo she orders the retreat of her unit. It is an orderly and complete one. This woman with light skin says little
     or nothing, but she carries in her hands a carbine which she took from a policeman who only saw someone to
     humiliate or rape when he gazed upon an indigenous woman. After surrendering, the policeman ran away in his
     shorts, the same one who until that day believed that women were only useful when pregnant or in the kitchen....

     ELISA, Insurgent Infantry Captain.
     As a trophy of war she still carries in her body some mortar fragments which are planted forever on her body. She
     takes command of her column when the rebel line is broken and a circle of fire fills the Ocosingo market with
     blood. Captain Benito has been injured and has lost his eye. Before losing consciousness, he explains and orders:
     "I've had it, Captain Elisa is in command". Captain Elisa is alredy wounded when she manages to take a handful of
     soldiers out of the market. When Captain Elisa, indigenous tzeltal gives orders it is a soft murmur..but everyone
     obeys...

     SILVIA, Insurgent Infantry Captain.
     She was trapped for 10 days in the rathole which Ocosingo became after January 2nd. Dressed as a civilian she
     scuttled along the streets of a city filled with federal soldiers, tanks and cannons. At a military checkpoint she was
     stopped. They let her through almost immediately. "It isn't possible that such a young and fragile woman could
     possibly be a rebel" say the soldiers as they watch her depart. When she re-joins her unit in the mountain the
     indigenous chol rebel woman appears sad. Carefully, I ask her the reason that her laughter is less. "Over there in
     Ocosingo" she answers me, lowering her eyes "In Ocosingo I left my backpack and with it all the cassettes of
     music I had collected, now we have nothing." Silence and her loss lies in her hands. I say nothing, I add my own
     regrets to hers and I see that in war each loses what he/she most loves...

     MARIBEL, Insurgent Infantry Captain.
     She takes the radio station in Las Margaritas when her unit assaults the municipality on January 1, 1994. For nine
     years she lived in the mountain in order to be able to sit in front of that microphone and say:
     "We are the product of 500 years of struggle; first we fought against slavery..." The transmission does not go
     through because of technical reasons and Maribel takes another position in order to cover the backs of the unit
     which advances towards Comitan. Days later she will serve as guard for the prisoner of war, General Absalon
     Castellanos Dominguez. Maribel is tzeltal and was less than 15 years old when she came to the mountains of the
     Mexican Southeast. "The toughest moment in those 9 years was when I had to climb the first hill, called 'the hill
     from hell', after that everything else was easy" said the insurgent official. When General Castellanos Dominguez is
     returned to the government, Captain Maribel is the first rebel to have contact with the government. Commissioner
     Manuel Camacho Solis extends his hand to her and asks her age: "502" says Maribel who counts all the years
     since the rebellion began...

     ISIDORA, Infantry Insurgent.
     Isidora goes into Ocosingo as a buck private on the first day of January. And as a buck private Isidora leaves
     Ocosingo in flames, after spending hours rescuing her unit, made up entirely of men 40 of whom were wounded.
     She also has mortar fragments on her arms and legs. When Isidora arrives at the nursing unit and hands over the
     wounded, she asks for a bit of water and gets up again. "Where are you going?" they ask her as they try to treat
     her wounds which bleed and paint her face as well as redden her uniform. "To get the others" answers Isidora as
     she re-loads. They try to stop her and cannot, the buck private Isidora has said she must return to Ocosingo to
     rescue other companeros from the music of death which the mortars and the grenades play. They have to take her
     prisoner in order to stop her. "The only good thing is that when I'm punished at least I can't be demoted" says
     Isidora as she waits in the room which, to her, appears to be a jail. Months later, when they give her a star which
     promotes her to an infantry official, Isidora, tzeltal and Zapatista looks first at the star and then at her commander
     and asks, as though she were being scolded "Why?"..But she does not wait for the answer...

     AMALIA, First lieutenant in the hospital unit.
     Amalia has the quickest laughter in the Mexican Southeast and when she finds Captain Benito lying in a pool of
     blood unconscious, she drags him to a more secure place. She carries him on her back and takes him out of the
     circle of death which surrounds the market. When someone mentions surrender, Amalia, honoring the chol blood
     which runs in her veins, gets angry and begins to argue. Everyone listens, even above the ruthless explosions and
     the flying bullets. No one surrenders...

     ELENA, Lieutenant in the hospital unit.
     When she joined the EZLN she was illiterate. There she learned to read, write, and that which is called medicine.
     From caring for diarrheas and giving vaccines, she went on to care for the wounded in a small hospital which is
     also house, warehouse and pharmacy. With difficulty she extracts the pieces of mortar carried by the Zapatistas
     on their bodies. "Some I can take out, some I can't" says Elenita, insurgent chol, as though she were speaking of
     memories and not of pieces of lead...

     In San Cristobal, that morning of January 1, 1994, she communicates with the great white nose: "Someone just
     came here asking questions but I don't understand the language, I think it's English. I don't know if he's a
     photographer but he has a camera".
     "I'll be there soon", answers the nose as it re-arranges the ski mask.
     Into a vehicle go the weapons which have been taken from the police station and he travels to the center of the
     city. They take the weapons out and distribute them among the indigenous who are guarding the municipal palace.
     The foreigner was a tourist who asked if he could leave the city. "No" answered the ski-mask with the over-sized
     nose "it's better that you return to your hotel. We don't know what will happen." The tourist leaves after asking
     permission to film with his video camera. Meanwhile the morning advances, the curous arrive, journalists and
     questions. The nose responds and explains to the locals, tourists and journalists. The Major is behind him. The
     ski- mask talks and makes jokes. A woman who is armed watches his back.

     A journalist, from behind a television camera asks: "And who are you?" "Who am I" says the ski-mask hesistantly
     as it fights off the sleepiness after the long night. "Yes" insists the journalist "Are you 'Commander Tiger' or
     'Commander Lion'?" "No" responds the ski-mask rubbing the eyes which are now filled with boredom. "So,
     what's your name?" says the journalist as he thrusts his camera and microphone forward. The big-nosed ski-mask
     answers "Marcos. Subcomandante Marcos"...Overhead the planes of Pontius Pilate begin to circle.

     From that time on, the impeccable militar action of the take-over of San Cristobal is blurred, and with it is erased
     the fact that it was a woman, a rebel indigenous woman, who commanded the entire operation. The participation
     of other women rebels in other actions of January 1 and during the long road of 10 years since the birth of the
     EZLN, become secondary. The faces covered with ski-masks become even more anonymous when the lights
     center on Marcos. The Major says nothing, she continues to watch the back of that enourmous nose which now
     has a name for the rest of the world. No one asks her for her name...

     At dawn on January 2 of 1994 the same woman directs the retreat from San Cristobal and the return to the
     mountains. She returns to San Cristobal 50 days later as part of the escort which guards the security of the
     delegates of the CCRI-CG of the EZLN to the Dialogue at the Cathedral. Some women journalists interview her
     and ask her her name. "Ana Maria, Mayor Insurgente Ana Maria" she answers with her dark gaze. She leaves the
     Cathedral and disappears for the rest of the year of 1994. Like her other companeras, she must wait, she must be
     silent...

     Come December of 1994, 10 years after becoming a soldier, Ana Maria receives the order to prepare to break
     out of the military blockade established by government forces around the Lacandon Jungle. At dawn on
     December 19th, the EZLN takes positions in 38 municipalities. Ana Maria commanded the action in the
     municipalities in the Altos of Chiapas. Twelve women officers were with her in the action: Monica, Isabela, Yuri,
     Patricia, Juana, Ofelia, Celina, Maria, Gabriela, Alicia, Zenaida and Maria Luisa. Ana Maria herself takes the
     municipality of Bochil.

     After the Zapatista deployment, the high command of the federal army orders silence around the rupture of the
     blockade and it is represented by the mass media as a purely "propagandistic" action of the EZLN. The pride of
     the federales is deeply wounded: the Zapatistas escaped the blockade and to add insult to injury, a woman
     commands a unit which takes various municipalities. It is of course impossible to accept and so a great deal of
     money must be piled onto the event so that it will remain unknown.

     Due to the involuntary actions of her armed companeros, and the deliberate actions of the government, Ana Maria
     and the Zapatista women at her side are dismissed and made invisible...

     II. TODAY...
     I have almost finished writing this when someone else arrives...
     Dona Juanita. After Old Man Antonio dies, Dona Juanita allows her life to slow down in the same rhythm which
     she uses to prepare coffee. Physically strong, Dona Juanita has announced she will die. "Don't be silly,
     grandmother", I say to her, refusing to meet her eyes. "Look you.." she answers "If it is to live that we must die,
     nothing will keep me from dying, much less a young brat like yourself" says and scolds Dona Juanita, the woman
     of Old Man Antonio, a rebel woman all her life, and apparently, a rebel even in response to her death...

     Meanwhile on the other side of the blockade, appears. She. She has no military rank, uniform, nor weapon. She is
     a Zapatista but only she knows. She has no face or name, much like the Zapatistas. She struggles for democracy,
     liberty and justice, the same as the Zapatistas. She is part of what the EZLN calls "civil society", of a people
     without a party, of a people who do not belong to "political society" made up of rulers and leaders of political
     parties. She is a part of that diffuse, but real part of society which says, day after day, its own "Enough is Enough!"

     At first she is surprised at her own words, but later, based on the strength of repeating them, and above all, living
     them, she stops being afraid of them, being afraid of herself. She is now a Zapatista, she has united her destiny to
     that of the Zapatistas in that new delirium which so terrorizes political parties and the intellectuals of the Power, the
     Zapatista Front of National Liberation. She has already fought against everyone, against her husband, her lover,
     her boyfriend, her children, her friend, her brother, her father, her grandfather. "You are insane" was the common
     judgement. She leaves a great deal behind. What she renounces is much larger than what is left behind by the
     rebels who already had nothing to lose. Her everything, her world, demands she forget "those crazy Zapatistas"
     and conformity calls her to sit down in the comfortable indifference which lives and worries only about itself. She
     leaves everything behind. She says nothing. Early one dawn she sharpens the tender point of hope and begins to
     emulate the first of January of her sister Zapatistas many times in one day, at least 364 times a year which have
     nothing to do with a January 1.

     She smiles because she once admired the Zapatistas but no longer. She ended the admiration in the moment in
     which she learned that they were only a mirror of her rebellion, of her hope. >She discovers that she is born on
     the first of January of 1994. From then on she feels that her life and what was always said to be a dream and a
     utopia, might actually be a truth.

     She begins to knit in silence and without pay, side by side with other men and women, that complex dream which
     some call hope: Everything for everyone, nothing for ourselves.

     She meets March 8th with her face erased, and her name hidden. With her come thousands of women. More and
     more arrive. Dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions of women who remember all over the world that there is much
     to be done and remember that there is still much to fight for. It appears that that thing called dignity is contagious
     and it is women who are more likely to become infected with this uncomfortable ill...

     This March 8th is a good time to remember and to give their rightful place to the insurgent Zapatistas, to the
     Zapatistas, to the women who are armed and unarmed.

     To the rebels and uncomfortable Mexican women who are now bent over underling that history which, without
     them, is nothing more than a badly-made fable...

     III. TOMORROW
     If there is to be one, it will be made with the women, and above all, by them...

     From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast,
     Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos
     Mexico, March of 1996.