Aid

It is Sunday and the men, women and children of this little tzotzil village named San Hisidrio have gathered for their meetings, that take place after the church service. It is a small group, since also this village got split up over politics: it is one more village outside the area of Zapatista tourism, where international fundings did not arrive. This small group have sustained, but the others decided to see what the government has to offer... because what is the benefit of being Zapatista if you are just as poor as before?
The men whith their red robes sit on the benches, the women with their embroidered sjawls and the kids sit down on the ground, opposite to the men, but speaking up just as loud, if they want to voice their opinions. On one side of the benches there are some ¨cashlan¨, white people, seated: two americans and a couple of Mexicans from the city.
When the meeting is over, the children hit the ¨piñata¨ a ball made of clay with candies inside, a Christmas tradition. The american lady makes sure all kids get the same amount of candies.
While we sit on the side talking to a young farmer about the peach trees that have recently be planted and of which they hope to harvest organic peaches, in front of us a desk is set up with the American lady behind it. Big bags are opened and dolls and barbies are spread out on the table. The little girls are lined up, starting with the youngest one. All of them may choose a doll while the lady smiles at them. Some of the little ones start crying when she picks them up so that they have a better look at the table, but most of them smile happily although somewhat timid. The ritual is then repeated with the boys who receive cars or teddy bears and another time they line up to receive clothes.
Our young farmer tells how the technician that came to explain them about the peach trees will not return; they cannot pay his salary. It is a pity as they would like to learn how to prune them well, so that they give more fruits, that they would then be able to sell in San Cristobal. Our conversation stops as also the men are invited to line up to collect a sweater and a baseball cap.
The atmosphere is happy, the people smile. Jerry, the other american, presents himself to us, saying that he comes from Texas, retired from the US military and now drives around to places like this ¨where there is all I need: mountains and poor people to help¨.
When we remain alone, Carolina and I, look at each other, cautiously I ask: ¨So what do you think of uh.. this?¨
And with all our academic bagage about how development aid should be, we cannot help but feel a little repugnated towards the scene. ¨Do not give the fish, but teach them to fish for themselves¨... ¨was it not?

to be continued