Jeanne Simonelli, Erin McCulley, and Rachel Simonellitwo choferes from San Andres Larrainzar, a place high in the Altos,
where the 1996 peace accords were negotiated. They are two drivers
with indigenous combis and a bunch of American women traveling
through what we realize is officially part of the Conflict Zone.
Three companies of soldiers, three sets of commanders, torn be-
tween the problem of moving the Humvees and checking out the for-
eigners. I’m out of the combi; Kate, too. I can see her reminding the
women “no pictures,” and wondering when they’ll want our papers.
The army guys are young and curious; when was the last time they
saw nine American women passing through an autonomous zone in
Chiapas? Looking at the men, I think about how safe I’d feel if we
armed our high school boys with automatics and set them about the
business of protecting the country. Finally, they remember us, all three
jefes carrying notebooks and pencils; they move to Roberto and be-
gin the questioning: what is your name? Kate and I are smiling, hand
them a document with more seals than the San Diego Zoo. Check
papers, visas, bags, destinations, and days of departure, and our lit-
any begins:
As we stand, surrounded by military giving contradictory orders, I
wonder how the students are fitting this into what they have learned
in their reading on Chiapas. The narrative moves to Erin McCulley,
then a junior from suny–Oneonta.
Roberto Mendez Mendez.
We come from dos colegios
Somos Profesores; Son estudiantes
Tenemos pasaportes, tenemos una lista
No tenemos armas, no tenemos drogas
No veimos nada, no oimos nada
Tonina, Palenque,
Chincultic y Tenem
Este es un clase,
Rumbo a la selva
Programa de turismo
Iremos a Nahá.
Hart-week, Nueva York,
Amen.