Valladolid is a city with a rich history waiting for travelers to discover. Many of its churches are masterpieces of colonial architecture. Restored casonas, such as the Casa de los Venados dot the city. The impact of the Maya rebellion known as the Caste War is still the topic of local conversations. For those amateur historians willing to dig for the data, a treasure chest of information awaits them.

One example of such a treasure is Parque los Héroes (Heroes Park). The park is located in the courtyard of the Ex-Convento San Roque, where Calle 41 intersects Calle 38. It is approximately a two-block walk from the city’s zocalo or main plaza, along the street that passes in front of the Cathedral of San Servacio.

Visitors can enter the park through a gate on Calle 38, or they can enter by passing through the Museo San Roque, which was originally a colonial church. The park was established in 1958 to recognize distinguished citizens who lost their lives in the pursuit of freedom, justice, and equality, during the final years of the Porfirio Díaz dictatorship. In order to understand the significance of these heroes’ sacrifices, it is necessary to travel back in time to the late 1800′s and the early 1900′s.

Porfirío Díaz

General Porfirio Díaz was a military dictator who ruled Mexico with an iron hand from 1876 to 1911.  Early in his domination of Mexico from 1880 to 1884, he allowed a “puppet president” by the name of Manuel González to serve, but Díaz still made most major decisions.

Díaz controlled the country by using the federal military and the rural police to enforce his policies. He appointed his closest and most loyal friends to major positions of power in the judicial and legislative branches of the government. Freedom of the press was tightly controlled and freedom of speech by opposing political groups was not allowed.

The positive impact of Díaz’s years in office was notable, and its effects continue to this day. Mexico was modernized and the economy boomed. Thousands of miles of railroad tracks were completed to connect major cities and ports. Lawlessness in the rural regions of Mexico was brought under control. Electricity was introduced to the larger cities and foreign investment was encouraged.

However, there was a dark side to the progress he achieved. It was gained on the backs of the poor, which made up a large portion of the country’s population. His political cronies were allowed to take the lands of the rural poor and force them to work for low wages or in some cases, no pay.  Education and health care for the masses were basically ignored. By the time Díaz was forced into exile in 1911, five to ten percent of Mexico’s citizens controlled more than 90 percent of the country’s land and wealth.

Trouble Brewing in the Yucatán

Political conditions in the State of Yucatán mirrored national conditions.  The state’s economy and political situation were under the control of Olegario Molina, a merchant and henequen millionaire.  He was also a former governor and a past cabinet minister in the Porfirio Díaz government.  Molina controlled the governor’s office from 1906 to 1910 through his handpicked successor, Enrique Muñoz Arístegui, with Díaz’s full support.  In the 1909 elections for Yucatán’s governor, Díaz did not respect the results of the election and announced that Muñoz Arístegui would continue as governor.

In Valladolid, political opponents of Aristegui began to discuss a rebellion against the state government supported by Díaz.  Retired military Captain Luis Felipe de Regil had been appointed Political Chief of the Department of Valladolid and was sent to maintain order and strict control.  Regil was an ill-tempered man with a violent nature.  He was intimidating and possessed an apparent need to humiliate the citizens of Valladolid.  He forced many poor people to work on projects without pay, conscripted some into military service against their will and levied new taxes.  Regil was a constant reminder of the Díaz government’s lack of concern for the common citizen.

The Dzelkoop Plan

Local political leaders began discussions of how to bring justice and freedom to the Yucatán. Merchants, landowners, artisans, lawyers and Maya leaders participated. The Dzelkoop Plan resolved that the current Arístegui government in Mérida was destroying the state and was no longer fit to govern. It also stated that a small group of individuals had gained immense wealth and power while contributing to the suffering of the people. The government of Enrique Muñoz Arístegui was declared illegal and a proposal to remove Arístegui and replace him with a seven-member governing board was suggested. The plan was signed on May 10, 1910, and preparations for a rebellion were initiated.

Leaders of the Revolt

Miguel Ruz Ponce, a former schoolteacher who was an accountant for Marcial Vidal, a prominent businessman and local political party leader, was quickly acknowledged as the movement’s chief tactical strategist. He had served prison time for political dissent and was a frequent object of contempt and humiliation by Regil, Valladolid’s Political Chief.

Maximiliano Ramírez Bonilla was a 45-year old merchant. He had been a political activist for several years and had helped coordinate a plan called, La Candelaria which criticized the Arístegui government. For this, he was rewarded with a prison term in Juárez Penitentiary in Mérida.

Claudio Alcocer was the overseer of Hacienda Kantó, and helped recruit Maya workers to participate in the rebellion.  Alcocer also held a personal grudge against Regil, who had expelled him from the city of Valladolid when he came to visit his elderly and sick mother.

Atilano Albertos was an officer in the rebellion. In addition, he held Political Chief Regil responsible for the rape of his niece.

José E. Kantun helped lead the assault on the local police station. He would pay the ultimate price for his participation in the rebellion.

La Chispa

In Valladolid, the rebellion is referred to as La Chispa, or “the spark” for the 1910 Mexican Revolution.  Near midnight on June 3, 1910, Miguel Ruz Ponce gathered his forces of approximately 1,500 men in front of the Church of Santa Lucía. At 3:00 AM on the morning of June 4th, the rebels attacked the city.

Colonel Miguel Ruz Ponce and Lieutenant José E. Kantun led a group to the Valladolid Police Station, where the night security guard, Liborio Albornoz, was killed. Additional policemen at the station were taken prisoners. Claudio Alcocer and Atilano Albertos headed the attack on the state’s National Guard quarters. Facundo Gil, the Sergeant of the Guard was killed. Meanwhile, the hated Political Chief Regil was aroused from his sleep by the shots and came out of his house brandishing two pistols. According to undocumented reports, Claudio Alcocer cut him down with a shotgun blast before others fell on him with their machetes. He was left dead in the street. By dawn on June 4, 1910, the rebels controlled the city.

A Price to Pay

The reaction of Governor Arístegui and President Díaz was immediate. Arístegui appointed Colonel Ignacio Lara Political Chief of Valladolid to replace Regil and ordered him to organize a combat exercise against the rebels. Colonel Lara left Mérida quickly with 75 professional troops and 300 new rifles. On the way to Valladolid, he conscripted local peasants.  By the time he reached Tinum, 12 kilometers (8 miles) from Valladolid, his forces numbered 600.

Meanwhile, President Díaz sent 600 well-armed troops of the 10th Federal Battalion from Veracruz under the command of Colonel Ignacio Luque. These troops joined the state troops of Colonel Lara in Tinum on June 8, 1910. The formal attack on the rebels began the next day at 8:00 AM. By 1:00 PM, the battle was over. The rebels fought bravely, but with inferior weapons and without trained military leaders, it was an unfair match. Altogether, 30 government troops died in the skirmish and 60 were wounded.

After the dust had settled, there were 200 dead rebels, 500 wounded, and 600 prisoners. A few rebels including Claudio Alcocer and Miguel Ruz Ponce escaped into the jungles of Quintana Roo where they sought protection from disenchanted Maya tribes. Ruz Ponce stayed with the Maya until Francisco Madero was president. He then traveled to Mexico City to offer his services to the government, but was never given a significant position. Alcocer stayed in the jungles of Quintana Roo, but was eventually murdered by the Maya because they did not trust him to protect their secret locations.

Colonel Maximiliano Ramírez Bonilla, Major Atilano Albertos, and Lieutenant José E. Kantun were held prisoners until June 25, 1910, when they were executed by a 20-member military firing squad in the courtyard of the Ex-Convento San Roque. That same courtyard where their lives were ended in pursuit of liberty is now the Heroes Park.

A Place of Tranquility

When the park was created as a tribute to the martyrs of La Chispa in 1958, an obelisk was placed in a prominent location. The names of Maximiliano Ramírez Bonilla, Miguel Ruz Ponce, Claudio Alcocer, José E. Kantun, and Atilano Albertos were inscribed on the Obelisk. On June 4, 1960, on the 50th anniversary of the rebellion, the remains of Bonilla, Albertos, and Kantun were moved from the Valladolid Cemetery and interred in one of the walls of the park. 

Today, visitors can visit their burial site and observe the obelisk and plaques in the park. There is also a large bronze bust of President Venustiano Carranza, who was president when Mexico’s 1917 Constitution was ratified. This constitution addressed many of the complaints that led to the Valladolid rebellion. Today, families stroll in the park through its well-manicured gardens and young couples hold hands on cozy benches. Other visitors come to reflect on the sacrifices made to protect the ideals of freedom, liberty, and justice. Vallisoletanos, citizens of Valladolid, are justifiably proud of their heroes’ roll in helping to bring Mexico’s longest lasting dictatorship to an end.

Author’s Note: Individuals interested in learning more about this period of Mexican history will enjoy Allen Wells and Gilbert Joseph’s book, Summer of Discontent, Seasons of Upheaval: Elite Politics and Rural Insurgency in Yucatan, 1876-1915, published by Stanford University Press.

Editor’s Note: One of the things we love about Mexico is learning its history… we were taught so little of it in our schools North of the Border. And Mexico’s history is full of drama, pathos, injustice and redemption. We like it even better when we find someone still alive who has a personal connection to that history and can tell us how it really was. In Yucatan, there are still a few people who remember the Mexican Revolution (not many…) and even more who remember stories of the Revolution as told by their parents and grandparents. Khaki Scott, our Events and News Coordinator, had a personal friendship with someone who figured significantly in one of Mexico’s most tragic events of the 20th century. The first anniversary of his death is approaching and Khaki shares her memories of this great man with us.

Arturo Zama Escalante

One year ago, on January 25, 2010, Arturo Zama Escalante, a Mexican hero, died of a sudden heart attack. He was only 64 years old.

Not a Very Good Year

1968 was not a good year for Planet Earth. World War II had been over for two decades but tension was running high around the world. It seemed as if not one single nation had learned its lesson from the horrors of world war, and the only thing that kept them from each other’s throats was the threat of nuclear war. Even so, small, bloody and useless conflicts raged in every corner of the planet. All over the globe, young people, hurt and disappointed by the world they would soon inherit, flowed into the streets in protest. Governments, some fearful of change and others perpetrators of repression for their own political and financial gain, fought back against their own young people with a vengeance that set much of the world, including Mexico, on fire. It was in this environment that Arturo Zama Escalante came of age in Mexico City.

By 1968, Mexico had a growing middle class that was sending its children to college in record numbers. Like the students in many other nations of that era, they were taking classes in history, political science, sociology, philosophy, and law. The dawn of the Human Rights movement was being born in these students faster than anyone could imagine. From early in 1968, Mexican young people poured into the streets in support of human rights revolutions around the world. They inflamed the government by embracing Communism and Socialism. The government’s response was to attempt to control the universities and vocational schools, including course content… but the genie was already out of the bottle. The students would not be controlled or suppressed and the struggle for their future was on. This set the stage for the tragedy that would take place on October 2, 1968.

Student Activist

Arturo Zama Escalante became politically active as a college student. By 1968, he was the leader of the CNED and a member of the Mexican Communist Youth movement. He was arrested with friends in Mexico City, on July 26, 1968, at Café Vienna, on Avenida Insurgentes, for having led a student demonstration in the Juarez Hemiciclo in support of the Cuban Revolution. He was transferred to prison the very next day.

The Infamous Tlatelolco Massacre

The infamous Student Massacre of 1968 took place two months and a few days later, on October 2, as students were peacefully meeting to protest the assault on the autonomy of their universities and secondary schools. They were also demonstrating for the freedom of their jailed classmates. With the 1968 Summer Olympics just 10 days away, they began to chant ¡No queremos olimpiadas, queremos revolución! (“We don’t want Olympic games, we want revolution!”). As the military moved into the Plaza de las Tres Culturas in Tlatelolco, they were fired on. Believing the attack was coming from student snipers, they opened fire. The government claimed that no more than 28 students were killed. Students and other witnesses claimed that number may have been as high as 3,000. We will never know the exact number of young people that died that day.

The 1968 Summer Olympics went on with, by that time, only 40 documented deaths from the Student Massacre. Other nations would not have participated if the real cause of the massacre had been known. However, since the students were being blamed for shooting first, almost every other nation came to the games. With their world sinking into chaos, a number of Olympic athletes showed remarkable bravery by registering their feelings before the world. 1968 was the year of the Black Power salute, the Russian athlete who lowered her head and turned away during her national anthem, and others who wore civil rights badges and human rights badges on the podium and in the parade.

We would not learn the true story of how the Student Massacre of 1968 really began until President Vicente Fox conducted his own investigation in 2001, and made the findings public. That investigation revealed documents proving that the snipers were members of the Presidential Guard. They had been instructed to fire on the military below for the sole purpose of provoking them into attacking the students. Today, October 2 is a day of national mourning in Mexico.

Arturo Zama’s Fate

Arturo Zama Escalante and the other jailed students remained imprisoned. They heard the massacre from inside the prison, but were helpless to stop it. Arturo’s mother, Alicia Escalante de Zama, a Mexican hero in her own right, was instrumental over the next few years in bringing Amnesty International to Mexico in an effort to secure the release of her son and his comrades.

Originally sentenced to ten years in prison, Arturo ultimately served three years in the notorious Lecumberri Prison, with three more years of exile in Canada. During their years in Lecumberri, he and his fellow student prisoners were able to get textbooks into the prison and took turns teaching the group so they could complete their educations. The course Arturo taught his classmates was English, the same subject he was teaching to another group of college students on the morning of his fatal heart attack a year ago.

Forever Changed

When we encounter terrible injustices, we have a choice. We can turn away and allow injustice to continue, or we can become part of the solution. After returning to Mexico from exile in Canada, Arturo Zama Escalante served Mexico as an attorney in a variety of settings, including in the Superior Court of Justice. He also served as chairman of Amnesty International in Mexico, as a professor at UNAM and the Universidad Autonoma de Sinaloa, and participated for several years on the National Council to Prevent Discrimination (CONAPRED). His additional professional accomplishments are too numerous to list.

As the years wore on, Arturo Zama Escalante lived his remarkable life almost completely behind the scenes. Everyone who knew him urged him to write about his experiences, but he would just smile and decline. On the 40th anniversary of the horrible event at Tlatelolco, 40,000 people marched in the streets of Mexico City, but Arturo almost skipped the 40th reunion of those who were arrested with him that fateful summer. Thank goodness, he was finally persuaded to attend, where he was surprised by his friends’ invitation for him to come on the stage. The events of that night, including the ovation he received, gave him a memory that he cherished for the rest of his life.

The Man, The Friend

Mexico lost much when Arturo Zama Escalante died, and I lost one of my oldest and dearest friends. His political beliefs never wavered. He was a socialist who had allegiance to no political party. All he ever wanted was for all governments to simply do the right thing for their people. What that earned him was the love and respect of communists, socialists, and capitalists around the world. The same was true on the topic of religion. He would tell you that he didn’t even believe in religion and then behave as a living example of the Sermon on the Mount. His personal code of ethics was above reproach, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be charmingly irreverent at times. He was quiet and shy, but had mastered the art of making people laugh when they least expected it. He loved art and music and travel. He loved mountains covered in winter snow or spring flowers and was fascinated by ice country. He loved the great cathedrals and marvelous train stations in Europe, and adored the beach at Loreto, Baja California Sur. …and he loved flowers – all kinds of flowers, but he especially loved roses. He loved his family and friends with all his heart, worshiped his children, and was ever the champion of the poor and disenfranchised.

I read somewhere that we should consider ourselves lucky if we have known someone who is so hard to say goodbye to. Unfortunately, that realization doesn’t make it any easier for those who are left behind to go through each day without the wit and wisdom of our friend. Perhaps I shall reach acceptance by the next anniversary of the death of this Mexican hero but, with only one year gone since he left us, I still just miss my friend.

****

Read more about the Tlatelolco Massacre here on Wikipedia

A documentary made about the Tlatelolco Massacre

The Statues Emerge

As hurricane season dawned in Merida, we noticed that workers were gathering each day at the remate, (the south end of Paseo de Montejo), building something. At first we thought they were building a fountain. Then, as the pedestal took shape, it became apparent that they were building a statue pedestal similar to the ones farther north on the avenue that supports statues to Felipe Carrillo Puerto, Dr. Justo Sierra and near the Gran Plaza, Gonzalez Guerrero.

Then one day, there were statues there, but they were veiled.

Fade out statues, fade in Bicentennial/Centennial countdown clock even farther north on the same avenue, reminding everyone that there are only 54 (or whatever) shopping days until the twin celebrations of 100 years since the Mexican Revolution (against the reigning oligarchy) and 200 years since Mexico’s Independence from Spain this year. The countdown clock reminder is one of many scattered throughout Mexico in every city of any size, as this is a nationwide celebration. We would draw parallels to the Bicentennial celebration in the United States a few decades ago, with its fireworks displays and red-white-and-blue mania. But the parallels would go hyperbolic at this point because not only is Mexico celebrating TWIN centennials, but no one knows how to throw a party like Mexico. Yes, we know that could be taken as stereotyping, but we’ll make an exception in this case because in Mexico, fiestas are the national pasttime.

Now, you may have noticed that these centennial celebrations tend to be celebrations in honor of Lady Liberty. Certainly, the American Bicentennial was all about throwing off the shackles of monarchy and celebrating 200 years of freedom and democracy. Here in Mexico, the celebrations will be about freeing Mexico from Spanish colonial authority and, 100 years later, freeing Mexicans from the autocratic rule of Porfirio Diaz.

Viva México! Viva La Revolución!

So imagine our surprise when the only statues erected in Merida this banner year, in one of the most visible and central spots in the city of Merida, in the year of the twin centennials, turned out to be fairly realistic renditions of old Francisco de Montejo himself and his son of the same name, together the two conquistadores who conquered the Maya city of T’ho and renamed it Mérida in 1542 after a city in their home country of Spain.

The statues were sculpted by Reynaldo Bolio Suárez, for a purported cost of $143,485.96 pesos (give or take a centavo). If you disregard the political overtones of the work, the statues themselves are professionally done and some of the best work on public display in this city (we would argue that the statue of Pedro Infante on Calle 90 is much more interesting). The details are well-crafted and the figures are well proportioned, though they strike us as a bit small in relation to the pedestal on which they stand, which could be seen, perhaps, as a veiled commentary on the regard in which they are held and how it may or may not be deserved.

Why Them? Why Now?

The question burning in everyone’s mind, however, is why? Why these guys? And certainly, why now?

Our research turned up the facts that a local historian, Juan Francisco Peón Ancona, was instrumental in convincing the outgoing mayor of Merida, Cesar Bojorquez, to erect these statues. He was aided by the Patronato Prohistoria Peninsular, a group of citizens who take personal and professional interest in the history of the Yucatan Peninsula. These citizens all felt that a statue should be erected to the man or men who they say founded the city of Merida, but who also were responsible for building many of its major architectural attractions, and after whom the main avenue on which they stand is named. It seemed to them a gross error that a statue of these adventurous men was missing from this city.

Again, we can imagine that this took years to produce, and perhaps the timing of the end point of the entire production was not well thought through. In our minds and heart, we can cut them some slack.

We also know that many years ago, on the quatrocentennial of Merida’s founding as a city (1942), the government erected a statue of Nachi Cocom (an important Mayan ruler at the time of the conquest) on this same avenue, and the avenue was renamed after him. At that time, apparently, there was a big uproar and, according to historian Peón Ancona writing in the Diario de Yucatan, “The rejection of the public was immediate and unanimous … (I still) remember those "brand new" concrete monoliths with the name of indigenous leader, shot down in the night, on the Paseo, with ropes and chains, groups of boys and even older people, in manifest and clear rejection of the unfortunate disposition of local government". Apparently, some people were upset.

A distant acquaintance of ours, Genner Llanes Ortiz, a Yucatecan who is currently living in Brighton, England and recently completed his PhD in Anthropology at the University of Sussex, calls for an end to this monoculturalistic attitude on either side of the proverbial fence. He feels it is time for Merida to truly embrace its multicultural roots… and that perhaps these statues are not a good start in that endeavor.

Backlash

Certainly, the response to the statues was swift and vituperative on the part of many. First, there were the personal reactions. "Did you see those statues?" and "What were they thinking?", "Why would that do that this year of all years?". And these were just some reactions of the extranjeros that we know… perhaps our Yucatecan friends are too circumspect to vocalize their response quite so quickly or obviously. Although, to be honest, a lot of well-heeled Meridanos probably didn’t even see the statues for weeks, as they rarely travel to the Centro. But we saw them right away. And so did the working class of Merida, the Mayans visiting from the pueblos and the students and other youth that congregate in the universities, colleges and coffee houses downtown.

A protest was scheduled a few weeks after the unveiling. The day after the protest, hand-written signs hung on the statue base, punctuated by paper maché feet and hands, painted white and red to symbolize the bloody hands and feet of the Mayan workers in the henequen fields. A week after that, a group gathered and presented a formal letter to the Ayuntamiento (City Hall) of Merida. Among other things, the letter pointed out that the arrival of the Spanish to the land of Mexico brought death and cultural destruction to the people living here, that this behavior should not stand as a model, that the invasion of the Yucatan was particularly violent, that the Constitution of United Mexican States decries discrimination of any kind, and that the same Constitution establishes Mexico as a multicultural country. The letter also points out that the local Yucatecan Constitution provides that Yucatan is a multicultural state, based on the indigenous Mayan people, and that "in this context to erect a statue to two of the most bloodthirsty invaders who Yucatan history has known… is an act of propaganda of racism and discrimination that our fundamental laws prohibit…". The letter calls for the immediate removal of the statues, as well as the appointment of a woman to one of the four cronista posts (official historians of the city, now all held by men), that the city put out a call to all the citizens of the city to see who they want a statue of, to rename the avenue to Bicentennial Avenue and that the city honor and celebrate ALL of the inhabitants of Merida-T’ho in this important year.

Where The Statues Still Stand

To this day, the statues are still standing, overlooking the vast avenue named after the men they pay tribute to. The outgoing mayor approved the building and erection of the statues, erected less than three weeks after the new mayor took office.

The new mayor is a woman (Angelica Araujo Lara) and of a different, more liberal political bent than Cesar Bojorquez, the previous mayor. Perhaps she will pay heed to the letter, and the people who undoubtedly voted her into office. Or maybe, she will not fight this battle, letting the more entrenched powers that started this process have and keep their statues where they want them. There are few statues erected in Mexico to the conquerors from Spain. Maybe Merida will buck the trend, and maybe it will not.

We are part of the multicultural city that is Merida. On principal, we support multiculturalism. But in this battle to declare who the true founders were of Merida, and who should be remembered, commemorated and put on a pedestal, we must remain on the proverbial sidelines.

*****

See the full text of the letter presented to the Ayuntamiento here. (translated with the help of Google Translate)

See an image of the letter with signatures here.

Article by historian Juan Francisco Peón Ancona in the Diario de Yucatan (translated by Google Translate)

Detailed and well-researched blog by Genner Llaner Ortiz, native Yucatecan and PhD in anthropology, recently graduated from University of Sussex in Brighton, England (also translated by Google Translate)

The recent AP article about the statues.

We have been contacted in a personal way by the Mexican government twice in the last two days. Both events were unexpected, delightful and worthy of comment.

2010 Mexico Census

First of all, our doorbell rang and we found a young lady with a clipboard at our front door. As the ambient temperature at the front door was about 108 degrees Fahrenheit, we invited her inside without a moment’s thought. She was dressed in a uniform, with the INEGI logo on her hat and her shirt. Very neat, very business-like. What is INEGI? Instituto Nacional de Estadística y Geografía. The National Institute of Statistics and Geography. Besides making some pretty awesome maps of Mexico, INEGI is also in charge of the national census, and that, as it turns out, is why this young lady was at our door.

Lately, the Working Gringos have been feeling like they have been in Merida for a very long time (8 out of the 12 years that they have been married, for example). Being interviewed for the census reminded us that we were actually here for the last census (five years ago) as well!

Yucatan Statistics from 2005

The young lady handed us a brochure to look at while she was getting ready to ask us questions, and the brochure had some statistics from the last census taken in 2005. Among other things, it said that Yucatan was the 21st state in the nation by population, with a population at that time of 1, 818, 948 citizens, representing 1.8% of the population of Mexico. The growth of the population was demonstrated in a graph, which showed a pretty dramatic increase in the last twenty years. In 1900, Yucatan only represented .3% of the population, and as late as 1970, only .8%.

The population of Yucatan was then broken down by age. 57% of the population in our state is under the age of 30, a majority of them women (922,386 women compared to 896,562 men). The most populous city is Merida, of course, with 781,146 inhabitants in 2005. Tizimin and Valladolid are about the same size (69,553 and 68,863 respectively), with Uman and Kanasin (both suburbs of Merida) next in line. We always tell people that Merida is a city of a million people… and we’re wondering if by 2010, we’ll actually be right.

In 2005, according to the brochure, 93% of the population of Yucatan had running water in their home, 96% had electricity, 90% had a television (82.9% in 2000), 72% had a refrigerator and only 16% had a computer. That may not sound like a lot, but that number was 7% in 2000. In 2000, 52% of homes in Merida had a washing machine, and that grew to 65% in 2005. These alone should be interesting statistics to compare when the next census results are released.

In 2005, the brochure tells us that 33% of Yucatecans over the age of 5 years spoke an indigenous language. 527,107 people told INEGI that they spoke Maya, 618 spoke Chol, 355 spoke Tzeltal and 260 spoke Zapotec languages. This sounds impressive to us, but not when we found out that this number was 11,177 fewer indigenous speakers than in the year 2000.

A pair of pie charts demonstrated that in 1930, 52% of the population was Rural and 42% Urban. In 2005, 17% was Rural and 83% Urban. Wow. The average number of people in a home was 4.4 in 2000, and that decreased to 4.1 in the year 2005.

We looked on the INEGI website to see if we could find out more. We read that in 2005, 2.1 % of the residents of Yucatan had arrived from somewhere else within the last five years (including us!). In the census right before that, in 2000, that percentage was 3%, so the influx of visitors had actually decreased. We also learned that in the year 2000, 8.9% of the population had a college degree (or more). In 2005, that percentage increased to 11.6%.

The young lady in her INEGI uniform was ready to go, and proceeded to ask us questions and fill out her form. How many people lived here? What are our ages? Years of schooling? How many rooms? Did we have bathrooms? Did we have a television? She didn’t ask if we had computers… she could see at least three of them from where she sat. She did ask what nationality we were, so we’re hoping there is a line item for that result in the next census report.

She finished in about four minutes and then packed up to go. Before she left, she plastered a sticker on our door, indicating that we had been counted. All very efficient, all very professional. We have been counted! And we look forward to the results!

Mexican History Book in Our Mailbox

As if that wasn’t enough, the very next day, we opened our mailbox and found a magazine, with a cover letter from President Felipe Calderon. The magazine is really a soft-cover book, entitled Viaje Por La Historia de México (Travel Through the Story of Mexico). The book, he explains, is a gift from the Mexican government in this very important year that is both the Centennial celebration of the Revolución and the Bicentennial celebration of the Independencia de México. For these reasons, he says, this is Año de La Patria (Mexican Heritage Year).

The letter goes on to say that the Independence and the Revolution are the two biggest and most important events in the history of Mexico, and for this reason, "we ought to celebrate with happiness and pride the privilege of being Mexicans… proud to belong to our country, and proud of our culture, our history, our roots and our traditions. We ought to celebrate with jubilation our glorious past and, at the same time, Mexican Heritage Year is an opportunity to think about and start constructing the future that we want for our nation".

For all these reasons, Calderon decided that each Mexican home should have this book, a brief and simple history written by the historian, writer and gran mexicano, Luis González y González.

In closing, he hopes that this year will mark "the beginning of a new age of development with justice, liberty and democracy for Mexico". Hear, hear.

We love the book, really. It begins the history of Mexico with its Mesoamerican past, from the Olemecs through the classical native american empires, establishing these as the roots of Mexican identity. After the conquest, most of the book is a profile of historic individuals, and we wonder how they chose who to include. Diego Rivera is there, but Frida is not. Emiliano Zapata and Francisco Villa are there, of course, but the two most important revolutionary figures in Yucatan, Salvador Alvarado and Felipe Carrillo Puerto, are not, both of whom are painted in murals in the Governor’s Palace here in Merida… and on the facade of our house, by the way. Still, it’s a very lovely gift from our adopted country, and we are grateful for it.

Thinking of the Yucatan

As we power down our computers at the end of the day today, we will think fondly of the other 96% of the Yucatecans who will be reading this book in their homes tonight, half of whom will be doing so while listening to the sound of their refrigerators and washing machines. Viva, Mexico! y gracias, como siempre.

*****

INEGI’s website (in Spanish)

Mexico’s Bicentennial website (also in Spanish)

A few months ago, we found this printed advertisement for Yucatan Twine on eBay while searching for anything related to Yucatan. We had it sent here to Merida and framed it, and it now sits in our office. The other day, we were reading it again and thought that we would share it with our readers, as it really is an interesting peek into the shared history of the United States and the Yucatan Peninsula.

The Country Gentleman

The page is an ad in a magazine called The Country Gentleman, dated July, 1930. The Country Gentleman, according to Wikipedia, was an agricultural magazine founded almost one hundred years earlier in Rochester, New York. By 1955, it was the second most popular agricultural magazine in the United States and was eventually merged into Farm Journal, now the largest U.S. farm magazine.

In 1930, the Country Gentleman was a well-established and respected magazine among farmers, not only due to its editorial content, but also because of many covers that had been painted by Norman Rockwell over the preceding ten years. In the months leading up to July 1930, articles had included "Chain Banking and How It Is Likely To Affect Agriculture", "Making Flying Pay", and "Some Ifs in Rural Electrification".

Yucatan in 1930

A quick review of Yucatan history shows that in 1930, Yucatan was being heralded in an article in the Christian Science Monitor as "one of the few truly socialistic states in the world". Explaining that the government rules in both politics and business, it says "This unity of business and political power makes the state one of the strongest in the Mexican union. It is important economically to the rest of Mexico. In spite of being one of the smaller states and located at the tip of a hard, rocky peninsula almost bare of earth, its efficient organization makes it one of the first contributors to the national budget." The article goes on to explain that the henequen growers had formed a collective, whose president was the governor of the state of Yucatan. The article says that henequen is Yucatan’s chief product and chief support, with the US, its chief buyer, taking 90 percent of everything Yucatan produced. At that time, Yucatan still had a world monopoly of the product, according to the article, with Manila hemp its only and poorer rival.

What Makes Yucatan Sisal So Good

So, now, with the stage set, here is the text of the ad that is pictured below, that ran in July 1930 (one month before the magazine cover pictured above), advertising Yucatan Sisal to the American farmer:

"Twine Troubles Today – Wind & Rain Tonite

Tomorrow: 50 acres of grain will lie flat

Grain whipped to the ground by the storm in the night. Good grain that would have made 30 bushels to the acre and more. Grain that waited to be cut while this farmer wasted a whole day trying to make poor quality, mixed-fiber twine work in his binder.

He could have had that grain in the shock by the time the storm hit if he had only started the harvest off with 100% pure Yucatan Sisal in his twine box.

Yucatan Sisal twine is strong, even and clean. That means it feeds smoothly through the tightener, needle and knotter… that it is free from the thin, weak spots you find in a mixed-fiber twine, and free from the "tow bunches" which catch in the needle and jam the knotter.

Yucatan Sisal is stiff enough to cut clean from the single stroke of the binder knife and coarse enough to hold a knot, no matter how much the bunch is handled.

Yucatan Sisal is the twine that is naturally insect-proof. That means that crickets and grasshoppers will not cut the bands, no matter how long grain stands in shock. Yucatan Sisal twine does not mildew in shock or stack regardless of how long it waits.

Yucatan Sisal twine has given satisfaction in harvest fields of America for years. It sells for what you have been used to paying for twine or even less.

Avoid the dangers and inconvenience of mixed-fiber twine by ordering 100% pure Yucatan Sisal. All manufacturers of good twine make it. All the leading twine dealers sell it. Insist on Yucatan Sisal, 100% pure. Cooperative Sisal Farmers of Yucatan, Mexico"

The illustration in black and white is uncredited, much to our dismay. The caption reads "Mixed twine is dangerous, for its "tow bunches" are sure to stick in the eye of the needle, and catch in the knotter. Start the harvesting season right – with 100% pure Yucatan in the twine box!"

The article in the CSM describes the "feudal economic organization" that existed in the Yucatan, ruled by rich "henequeneros" before Felipe Carrillo Puerto came along and translated the free constitution of Mexico into the Maya language for the benefit of those who did not speak Spanish. Carrillo Puerto also formed the first of the "leagues of resistance", which at the writing of the article, ruled the state of Yucatan. These leagues were not just political organizations, but also clubs that promoted social and educational activities. The article described cultural evenings in the pueblos, as well as one in Merida held on Monday nights. In Merida, there was "an extensive program, at which the leading thinkers and workers in various fields give talks and lectures, at which local talent in music and art donate numbers… When programs are especially interesting the overflow congregates on the streets outside and the speeches and music are transmitted by loudspeaker. Sometimes these are in Maya, the native Indian language of the State, which almost every Yucatanian knows, even the first families." The article ends by mentioning the unusually large participation of women in all these events, and how clean everything and everyone in Merida was!

Well, Not Quite…

What’s odd about this article is that by the time it was published, Felipe Carrillo Puerto had been dead for over six years. He, along with three of his brothers, a former Yucatan governor named Manuel Berzunza and three others, were shot by firing squad in 1924 during a brief and ultimately failed revolt by Adolfo de la Huerta. Most of Carrillo Puerto’s “social experiments” were overturned or ignored for a time, but they returned in earnest when land and sometimes entire haciendas were granted as ejidos to the Maya workers under subsequent socialist administrations. Policies of agrarian reform and support of the working class reached their apex in the 1930′s under the Presidency of Lazaro Cardenas, which put an end to the fortunes of the "henequeneros" and their culture.

These policies did not produce the expected results and are often blamed for the decline of the sisal industry in Yucatan. However, historians point out that the poor management of some collectives was only part of the problem. Several hacienda owners chose to abandon their holdings when the revolution arrived in Yucatan after 1915. Others had overinvested, borrowing heavily during the boom, but finding themselves unable to repay after the bust, when the price of sisal declined following the stock market crash of 1929. They, too, walked away from their property (sound familiar?). During the 1930′s, there was a “Great Depression” in the United States, not the best time to expect increased exports to American farmers. But the real turning point came when Yucatan sisal had to compete with other less expensive fibers, which is undoubtedly why the advertisement above was published in the Country Gentleman all those years ago.

The whole article from Christian Science Monitor, April 24, 1930 (.pdf)

Farm Journal history, from their website