Mass of Teachers Spooked by Hovering Justice

Note: This post was written on Friday (10October2008), but I forgot to post it before I left for Mexico City...

Cuernavaca nearly had some excitement last night. Nearly. The Cuernavackians have complained for years that nothing ever happens here, but last night they seemed more than a little worried about the prospects of some real happenings.

I was hanging out at my favorite café. This particular place (which I'm sure I've mentioned before) has become more of a home than my place in "Junto al Rio." It's not that I spend more time there necessarily, but the community that hangs out there feels more like a family to me. At my house here, I'm mostly just an oddity to be poked and prodded--the family wants to see what's up with this strange Yank, like finding a big jellyfish on the beach. Not that I mind all that much, but it can be quite tiring at times. The folks at the coffee shop are different. Unhurried, unscripted, and living with some sense of purpose (something that's often sorely lacking at the house). Ever since I helped the owner's family hang a shelf in the shop, I've been accepted into the community that surrounds "Paraíso del Café." They're even teaching me how to use the espresso machine making drinks for the customers. It's a good place.

 

Anyway, yesterday evening I walked up to find two of the baristas and another friend, Roberto, sitting, smoking on the stairs leading up to the tiny bar. It seemed odd, but it wasn't until I dropped my bag inside that I realized that all the tables and chairs traditionally set on the patio and sidewalk were stacked inside the little café. When I asked what was going on, they told me the Federales were coming. Whoa, the one thing missing in my Mexican experience to date! Federales! A quick glance around the streets proved that we were not the only ones excited about it. All the businesses were barring their doors, people were standing in small groups arching their necks as if to see around the corners of the city blocks. "Where are the riot police?" was the question of the hour.

 

You see, for the past 50 odd days, hundreds upon hundreds of teachers from elementary schools all over the state have been camping in the Zocalo and every adjoining street. The reason? Fuzzy at best. Some (non-teachers) say that the educators don't want to take a competency test to prove they are capable of teaching. Some of the teachers are shouting that government is taking steps to privatize schools. Some say they are losing benefits. Some, upon my inquiry, have stared nervously and tugged the shirtsleeve of the nearest well-spoken member of their group. I just decided to not believe anyone--always a safe choice when it comes to teachers and politicians.

But there they've sat for almost two months solid. As the weeks have passed, their numbers have grown and their pavilion tents and tarps have sprawled. Since the end of August, several key streets have been blocked by this sprawl, diverting 20 odd bus routes and transforming the center of town into one big street fair. Every possible space is plastered and hung with posters and banners refuting the actions of the union president (accompanied by all manner of caricatures) and wishing reform in the most childish of ways.

Yesterday we had a little action. At about 4:00pm, a police helicopter made a very low, slow pass over the teachers' camp (i.e. downtown) inciting something of a panic among the profs. Mouths started running and in no time at all, the whole place was buzzing with "They finally called the Federales!" The paper today recounts that at this point the teachers called a flash meeting and decided "of their own accord" to move everybody off the streets, clearing a way for normal transportation to resume. Some genius came up with a new slogan on the spot--"We're changing, but we're not leaving"--and dozens of tents were quickly moved into an already tightly packed zocalo.

 

Maybe the Federales were ready to roll in, I did see a few elite-looking police squads waiting in a street below the town square. But maybe the flyover was just a "smart" move to intimidate the teachers and capitalize on the deeply ingrained fear of the government and its minions. I don’t know. But the interesting thing about it was the excitement that accompanied the prospect of a smackdown. Of course it would have been a different story were the violence directed toward us, but it was headed for the "maestros" who no one really likes anymore anyway. Afterwards, this schoolboy anticipation struck me as quite cold. I mean, there I was sitting on the steps with my friends waiting for destruction to fall upon the nameless hoards who stopped teaching the kids to live in the center of town. Kind of like Jonah sitting, waiting for fire and brimstone. There's a certain satisfaction in seeing people get what they deserve. You know, when the bad guys get a taste of "their own medicine" or Mel Gibson goes on one of his righteous killing sprees.

The fact is, I really don't want a taste of my own medicine, so it's kind of shaky territory to wish that upon other folks. I generally don't have trouble forming a strong sense of what's right and wrong, but being an arbiter of Justice is a bit more serious a commitment. Scary even.

And from time to time, that's what keeps me from decking the nearest teacher on my way through the Centro.