Abandoned by the government, the people of the neighborhood most affected by hurricane Katrina found a “common ground” in order to organize and survive. This is the story of Common Ground Relief, and its struggle against negligence and bigotry.
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In one of the most conservative states of the U.S.A., Latino workers are betting on community organization and education to reclaim their rights. The bronze race is at the front of new conquests, in a land that was taken away from Mexico at the end of the 19th century.
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In San Antonio, Texas, a whim from destiny lead us to discover a social struggle that knows no boundaries. It was about Esperanza Peace & Justice Center, an NGO that seeks to defend the rights of women and the Mexican-American community through art and culture. Their mission: to build bonds between people and organizations in order to promote an exchange of ideas, education, and citizen empowerment.
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In order to go from Mexico to the United States, one must pass through a Kafkan labyrinth that unfolds the absurdity of North-American migratory politics. A film packed with dreadful invaders and paladins in uniform, struggling in a swamp overflowing with paranoia and lacking in reason.
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The Kickapoo people are the only indigenous tribes in northeast Mexico, along with the Black Mascogan tribe. That is why we insisted on visiting them, not knowing that the interview with Chief Chakoka Aniko Manta would be one of the last –and probably the most private– he would agree to in his life.
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While we get dressed for the show of Atrapasueños Cabaret, at least 300 migrants are dining at the table. They come from Honduras, Guatemala, Salvador and Nicaragua. They have been robbed, beaten up and kidnapped. That is why we have come here, to show our solidarity and share our friendship through a show that speaks about the importance of following one’s dreams. Because, in the end, we are all migrants, like everyone else here.
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Saltillo “is something else!”, as Catón said. But not for the “Bridges for the people” or the growing feeling of insecurity. Saltillo has changed because there are some people who don’t want to give up and who believe it can be saved. It shows through an unusual activism to protect Human Rights, to fight for dignified childbirths and non-transgenic corn. Saltillo has changed because people are waking up.
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A tale in honor of those in Monterrey that offered us their support when we were in the Northern Sultana. A story of companionship and mutual help upon notes of accordion and six-string guitars. Cheers to the Regios !
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“Stay frozen,” I tell Pancho when I realize that the avalanche of memories threatens to let the tears loose. We are finished with most of our work of the day, however, we still need to put the tools away. It is as though, in the middle of this chaos of metal, time could stretch. I feel then his need to live again those happier times, to hold on to his memories; today, as he faces this storyteller, I feel the engine of life start anew.
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Six hundred and twenty miles. That’s how far we made it before the engine melted away. “Scrap metal is all it is, really,” the mechanics back in Guadalajara said as an excuse in case the engine were not to hold its promises: a return journey all the way to Alaska and back. We try to sleep so we can forget where we are but it is in vain. Outside, the violence that shakes the heart of Mexico surrounds us…
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