Hyla Rosenberg~Lane Community College

September, 2005

Department:  Communication Studies

Division:  Languages, Literature and Communication

Sabbatical Report for Spring, 2005

 

 

 

CONTENTS:

1. Gracias
2. Limitations
3. Oaxaca City:  An Overview
4. Slow Food:  Una Historia de Creación
5. A Conversation with Fani
6. Y Ahora…
7. Final Thoughts

 

THE ZÓCALO, OAXACA CITY, OAXACA, APRIL, 2005

Gracias…

To Lane Community College for granting me this one-term sabbatical. I believe I was able to experience the best of what a sabbatical has to offer; replenishment, a deeper, broader worldview and some small movement out of my comfort zone.  I intentionally chose this type of experience, for it is how I learn best, and it is how I find out about my own preconceptions, prejudices and expectations. 

My initial knowledge about Oaxaca came via Dr. Lynn Stephen, (Author, Zapotec Women, Author and Producer, Mayordomía:  Ritual, Gender and Cultural Identity in a Zapotec Community.)  who has completed extensive research in Oaxaca, and who continues to be eternally helpful in providing contact names, giving suggestions and encouragement. 

She recommended Instituto Cultural Oaxaca (ICO) as an excellent place to study Spanish while in Oaxaca.  She also gave me the names of dear friends of hers, Francisco (Paco) and his mother Petra, who live in Teotitlan de Valle.  I went with two family members to their house one day, shared a comida, and saw some of Paco’s weavings.  Paco has been a weaver of tapetes since he was a child, and now primarily dyes wool which he sells to other weavers. 

Many people gave generously of their energy, attention and time.  Señora Lucero Topete, Director, ICO, offered me both a chair in her office as well as a relaxed interview in which she shared her thoughts about the changes in the zocalo, globalization, and impact upon Oaxacan culture.  I knew that she had countless e-mails, phone calls and administrative details to which to attend. The ICO is the place where I spent four hours daily in intensive Spanish study.

Alejandro de Ávila  (Director de El Jardín de Etnobotanico, leader in the organization PROAX) and I discussed issues of globalization and cultural imperialism on a warm summer evening in Eugene, while he was there to visit Dr. Stephen and other family members.

Mi familia Oaxaqueña was welcoming and kind. I stayed with them twice, once in April for my sabbatical, and again in August when I returned to Oaxaca for a shorter stay.  They included me in their daily lives in a most generous way.  I had a place at the table during family reunions, celebration of grandparents´ day and the marking of Easter.   It was in large part due to them that I felt compelled to return to Oaxaca so soon.

And thanks to BHD and Alito for your mutual spirit of adventure and openness. The few photos included are generous courtesy of Barbara (otherwise known as BHD), a friend who likewise studied Spanish in Oaxaca during my sabbatical.

I always feel an ambivalence about taking photos.  Not only am I an amateur in the truest sense of the word, I also am often reticent to create a subject/object by taking a photograph.  So what I try to do instead is to retain recall through moments of memory.

I’m happy to provide a detailed list of citations and sources.   My sources included a compilation of text sources, formal interviews, informal conversations and subjective observations.

Limitations

Many times students in my classes preface a presentation with some kind of self-deprecating comment about their general incompetence.   I always tell them no es necesario, no apology necessary. But I do need to begin this report with an acknowledgment of limitations, a kind of pre-apology.

One very real limitation has to do with my own background and perspective, my cultural lens.  My grandparents came from Eastern Europe to the United States in their twenties.  Both sets of grandparents struggled financially.  My maternal grandmother worked as a  a domestic helper in others’ homes and my maternal grandfather sold small trinkets on Maxwell Street in Chicago. (Mickey Mouse watches and condoms, among other items.)  I never had the chance to meet my paternal grandfather.

My parents had the opportunity to become solidly middle class by the time I arrived in the world. English was the language spoken in our home, with occasional sprinklings of Yiddish.  We lived in ethnically diverse parts of the city.  But I always fit in to the ´mainstream´, at least where appearance is concerned.   I had the kind of unconscious privilege that took hold in my body, my thoughts, my experiences.

It is an unfathomable luxury to buy an airplane ticket, to move easily between U.S. and Mexican borders with passport in hand.  I can ponder, research and consider issues that for many Oaxacans are irrelevant to the vital daily struggles of survival.

This paradox of injustice is evident in this moment. I write this reporte on a blustery, rainy night in Oaxaca, sitting in an internet cafe.  I am warm and comfortable, Sprite can nearby, while two women with long gray braids hover under the café awning, seeking protection from the rain, waiting for a break in the clouds.  In their hands, they hold baskets with Chiclets and other candy, the items they sell literally in the middle of traffic.   The rain abates, and they venture out again, holding up their goods to people in car windows waiting for the green.  

The other limitation is one of time.  To really understand the complex cultural, historical, political, economic issues of both Oaxaca state and city, I would need several more years´study, as well as life education beyond my background in intercultural communication.  Thus, this summary is one that reveals more breadth, than depth.  As might be expected, my brief exploration evoked more questions than it did pat answers.

While I originally intended to focus solely upon the protest against McDonald´s, it became clear to me quickly that the protest itself was and was not the issue at hand.  That the protest was and was not symbolic.  It was very real in that, incredibly, it was successful against a powerful transnational corporation with an appeal not only to the palette, but to the emotion of fulfillment, McBurger happiness. And it was the backdrop for much more profound and complex issues regarding power, economics, (NAFTA) culture and intercultural contact.

Any comments made in this paper must be seen as only generalizations, crafted via the my perceptual lens.  Thus, none of the statements or observations can possibly be representative of all (fill in the blank here—Oaxacan, Mexican, etc.) perspectives.

 

OAXACA CITY, OAXACA, ON A TYPICAL WEEKDAY

So you are going to Ohaka?  Is that a beach resort or something in Mexico?  (The question asked of me by my airplane seatmate on my flight from Portland to Houston, bound for Oaxaca in August.)

 

 

An Overview of Oaxaca City

Increasingly,  the city of Oaxaca has become a desired tourist destination.  There are no beaches near the city of Oaxaca, and one must travel many hours by bus or a short jaunt on a commuter plane to reach those sandy places. What Oaxaca does have to offer to tourists includes several large Spanish language schools, famous cooking particular to the area, a strong presence of indigenous history, (indigenous groups comprise almost 50% of the total population in Oaxaca state, and speak a variety of languages, many lost or on their way to becoming so with the death of older generations.  In the city of Oaxaca, the main language is Spanish, the voice of colonialism.) and archaeological ruins not far from the city’s boundaries. 

Tourism remains the number one source of internal revenue for Oaxaca city.  The second source comes from (mainly) men who have left their villages or the city to seek work in the United States.  Michael Chibnik, author of Crafting Tradition:  The Making and Marketing of Oaxacan Wood Carvings notes the following regarding tourism in both Mexico in general, and Oaxaca in particular:

In the early 1980’s Mexico plunged into an economic crisis…in their attempts to recover from the crisis, the political and economic elite of Oaxaca promoted tourism more than ever.  Traffic was barred from the zocalo in the heart of the city, which became a lively square filled with cafes, musicians and artisans. (pg. 11)

Chibkin devoted an entire book to the study of alebrijes, the brightly colored animals and objects made out of wood that line many stores selling authentic Oaxacan arts.  As with many aspects of tourism, the authentic culture is inextricably altered, diffused, and in ways that can be ultimately destructive.  In the case of the alebrijes, many consumers wish to believe that these are made in small villages by indigenous people, and that there is an inherent mysticism in them.  They are often described as whimsical and other-worldly.  They may be in the forms of cats, dogs, armadillos, lizards, flies, or skeletons playing musical instruments or poised in an amorous embrace.

As Chibnik describes, the production of alebrijes emerged out of a sheer need for survival, and a recognition of a potential strong market, both within and outside of, Mexico.  While it may be true that in villages, children and adults crafted small items or toys out of wood or other available resources, the alebrijes are by no means an ‘authentic tradition’ in its most important sense.  Instead, they are the offspring of intercultural projection:

Oaxacan wood carvings can aptly be described as an invented tradition.  The artisans are not the primary creators of this particular tradition and are often surprised to learn how their craft has been depicted. The invented tradition results from cultural assumptions romanticizing indigenous crafts that are shared by the marketers and buyers of folk art.  The wood carving-trade depends in part on intercultural miscommunication. (pg. 243)

Alebrijes are just one example of the kinds of arts and creative products that can be purchased at many different stores throughout the central part of the city.  In this crude description, it is clear that the writer wishes to both challenge and simultaneously soothe the potential tourist.  Judith Sandoval (Shopping in Oaxaca)

The eternal pastimes of visitors to exotic places are sightseeing, eating well, shopping and taking it easy, four kinds of fun Oaxaca has perfected.  You can climb archeological ruins…wander leisurely on cobblestone streets into Spanish colonial mansions…Absorb the experience of time (going back into) and space (floating in an exotic culture.)  (pgs. 15-16) 

The striking part of this description is that nowhere is there mention of humanity.  All of the invitations refer to things---ruins, cobblestone streets, time and space, and the exoticization of the culture.  Nowhere is there mention of the potential for intercultural connections. 

Many people do arrive in this so-called “exotic” place seeking real, authentic contact with the diversity of Oaxaca.  Many language schools in the city offer both homestays as an option, as well as intercambios. (One-half hour is spent speaking Spanish, the other half-hour speaking English.)  Some are artists in their own communities, and arrive there to both appreciate the strong presence of creative expression in the city’s museums, as well as to perhaps take specific art courses.

Expatriates may come to visit or to get inexpensive medical treatment, and then decide to stay.  I met one such woman who has lived in Oaxaca for six years.  She initially came for a minor medical surgery, decided the climate suited her, and liked being in a community of artists.  The peculiar piece here is that she speaks little or no Spanish.  Somehow she is able, and has chosen, to insulate herself even while she has a home in the city center and must go to a local market to buy her food and staple items.

Still others come for the food.  Oaxaca is well-known for its variety of moles, the most  famous of which is mole made with chocolate, and often served over chicken or beef.  Many people offer cooking vacation packages, which include instruction in cooking traditional and diverse Oaxacan dishes, as well as travel to specific regions and villages within the state of Oaxaca.   For those who enroll in a cooking class (this I only learned secondhand), the care given to the ingredients, the preparation and the process is of the utmost importance.  So, of course, is the actual meal, shared with others. 

It’s called Slow Food.  Not slow as in slovenly or lacking or unproductive.  Not slow as in howlongwillthistakecan’twejustpopitinthemicrowavegottagotoworkwilleatinthecar. Not slow as in measurement by hours on the clock.  Slow as in care full.  Slow as in--in its own time.

SLOW FOOD:  UNA HISTORIA DE LA CREACIÓN

Dios pobló la tierra con brócoli, coliflor y espinaca, vegetables verdes y amarillos de todos los tipos, asi el Hombre y la Mujer vivirian largas y saludables vidas. 

Y Satanás creo McDonald’s.  Y McDonald’s trajo la hamburguesa doble con queso y tocino.  Y Satanás le dijo al Hombre:  “Quieres refresco?”  Y el hombre dijo “Lo quiero en vaso grande .” (Source:  Author unknown.  A copy of an e-mail sent to a member of my Oaxacan family, given to me when I described my interest in issues of globalization and the state of the zocalo.)

 (Rough translation)  God made the land full with broccoli, cauliflower, spinach, and green and yellow vegetables of all varieties, so that the man and the woman could live long and healthy lives.

And Satan created McDonald’s.  And McDonald’s brought a double burger with cheese. And Satan asked the man “what would you like to drink?” And the man said “I’ll have a big gulp.”

The heart and focus for so many Oaxacans is that indeed of family, and in particular, children.  The way this connection is expressed is often done so via shared meals, and traditionally, the largest meal of the day is la comida.  This is typically served sometime during the middle of the afternoon, around three p.m. or so. 

On the day I was given the copy of this e-mail, it was a celebration of Easter Sunday.  Grown children, spouses, partners, and grandchildren were all present, and I was likewise warmly invited to have a seat at the table.  I often felt in the home that this family embodied a principle taught to me at an early age, and one which still is with me—that of the holy guest.  In this case, I do not mean “holy” with any particular religious significance, but rather, “holy” in the sense of the host’s great pleasure, honor, opportunity to make another feel wholly welcome.

The meal was entirely homemade.  Tortillas, various salsas, chicken, pork, arroz con leche (rice pudding.)  The conversation and occasional changing of seats so that one person could talk to another, went on for more than three hours.  We drank “water” which consisted of various types of fresh fruit mixed with water.  On that day, it was cantaloupe. 

After this large gathering of family, it continued to be very important to my Oaxacan “mother” that I be there for comida, that I share in that time.   During my second trip in August, I wasn’t sure whether or not it would work for my schedule.  So I changed my schedule a bit, because it likewise was important to me.  And it seemed to please her.  This wasn’t about debt or demand, but rather, relationship.

As the central importance for so many Oaxacans is family, the heart of Oaxaca city is the zócalo.  The zócalo is a large square that includes El Catedral, a grand and luminous church, as well restaurants that line the borders.  There are also many vendors selling crafts, and the popular globos (balloons) that children play with late into the night outside of El Catedral.  They can choose from many U.S. popular culture icons such as Scooby Doo, Spiderman and Shrek. 

This center was formed and created in the 1500´s, and remains very much not merely a physical structure, but a place of communion, both religious and familial.   The zócalo, thus, has likewise become a symbol of this strong cultural reflection.  Just as any given language can never be about solely grammatical components, so does the physical presence of the zocalo mirror underlying values of collectivism and remembrance of history.

In 2002, there was threat of yet another icon to be added to the zócalo. This time, the icon would not come in the form of a globo, but rather, golden arches.  The McDonald´s corporation went through the legal channels to bid to open a restaurant in the zocalo.  There are no fast food restaurants in the square in the traditional sense.  The following statement was issued in a local newspaper in response to a possible McDonald’s invasion:

“We declare our rejection of the imminent opening of a McDonald’s restaurant in the Zócalo of Oaxaca.  We vehemently oppose this transnational corporation that, to raise cheap beef, contributed to the destruction of the tropical forests of our country and in all of Latin America…As if this weren’t  enough, McDonald’s systematically violates the labor rights of its employees, including Mexican migrant workers, whom they exploit as ’illegals’ in this restaurant’s chain in the U.S.”—“Tamales vs. hamburguesas”  Ernesto Reyes, Noticias, Agosto 16, 2002, pg. 15. (Translated from the Spanish)

The impending appearance of Ronald—complete with big red nose and funny hat—was met with a variety of responses.  For many Oaxacans, the stress of making a living to have enough to eat understandably superceded a passion for protest of McDonald´s.  For others, the introduction of the restaurant (if it can be called that) perhaps represented something new, something added to the traditional Oaxacan cuisine.  For still others, the possiblity of Ronald and his cajitas felices(happy meals)  taking up residence in the beloved zocalo brought protest and outrage.   Selma Holo, author of Oaxaca at the Crossroads had this to say about the possible introduction of McDonald´s into the town square:

The Zócalo is a living, breathing testament to the continuinty of Oaxacan life and to values that have defined it for centuries.  It is surrounded by Mexican and a few Spanish (run by the families of their Basque founders) restaurants, all of which feel as if they have been there forever…the adjoining Cathedral plaza is joyously noisy with concerns and vendors and children playing.  For those who care about Oaxaca retaining its uniqueness, the McDonald’s incursion represented the worst of globalization…the longer view took into account the reason tourists come to Oaxaca has never been for McDonald’s.   

This place is not for McDonald’s, this is a sacred space. (pgs. 86-87) 

The protest against McDonald´s was led in its visible sense by Francisco Toledo, an internationally known artist, and an activist.  He was joined by Alejandro de Ávila (see first section of paper) who was a main architect of the protest behind the scenes, as well as many others who remained less media-visible.   Although McDonald´s went through all the appropriate legal channels in order to secure a place, Toledo and others fought this fiercely.

"Cities are a reflection of the society and people who built and lived in them. Cities manifest our human contradictions, our vices and our inequalities, but also our history and our most important values...Oaxaca's streets and buildings, our symbolic spaces, like the public square, should express the respect we have for our historic origins and traditions."    

Francisco Toledo, in commentary upon the possibility of a McDonald’s restaurant in the Oaxaca city Zócalo. 

Señor de Ávila noted that Francisco Toledo was able to galvanize large masses of people to protest due to his strong influence both in artistic and intellectual circles, as well as with the media.  When I asked him about the impact of globalization in Oaxaca he noted that the short term benefits include more jobs, and more economic infusion into the heart of the city.  But he also noted that the long term effects were not yet known.   He emphasized that the former, short term benefits can have disastrous long-term effects upon authentic culture.  (*As Señor Ávila noted, the phrase authentic culture is inherently problematic.  There is nothing  “untouched” about Oaxacan culture, as it was greatly changed and devastated by Spanish colonialism.  As is the case in all communities and cultural groups that have been likewise impacted and/or destroyed via colonialism. Additionally, since cultures are human-made and created, they are not stagnant objects, but rather ways of being, living, seeing, breathing, thinking, that reflect the life of the people. )

A walk through various parts of el centro, but in particular around the zócalo and the  Alcala (a series of blocks closed to vehicular traffic, where one can find many artisan stores,restaurants, hotels and art galleries), reveals a great many flyers announcing job openings for meseros (servers.)  I noticed many of these as well closer to the house in which I lived during both visits to Oaxaca, an area not generally frequented by many tourists. 

I inquired about these jobs, as these are typical of those created by tourism, service industry positions.  He noted that most of these jobs do not pay very well, and the employees rely heavily upon propinas (tips) from tourists, whether those from the U.S. or Europe, or from within Mexico itself. 

For Toledo and others, the protest had to do specifically with the placement of the golden arches, in the true heart of the city.  As it is, there are other fast food restaurants in other parts of the city. For example, very near Llano Parque, one can wander into Subway, with its array of choices and sauces and fillings.  On the outskirts of the city, nearer the airport, there is a McDonald´s, and a Sears.   There is also a Sam’s Club, similar to Costco, where one can buy ready-made food, including pizza.  One day I asked Estefani, the youngest granddaughter in the family, what her favorite food was.   In this case, a quick reply, no hesitation.

Pizza.  From Sam’s.

A conversation with Fani

Estefani is the seven year old granddaughter of my familia Oaxaqueña.  Her parents live about fifteen minutes away by car, but have a small restaurant attached to the family house.  Fani (as she is affectionately called) goes to school next to her grandparents´home.  One day I noticed that she brought home a cajita feliz, (directly translated means happy little box) with its familiar clown, and text written in Spanish. 

The faces of the children on the happy meal were Latino.  I asked her if I could borrow the box which held her meal of happiness for a few minutes.  It was clear from the expression on her face that she was reluctant to give it up, even for only a few minutes. I got to know Fani very well, and I had rarely seen her so attached to an object, even those  that were her favorite toys or dolls in her grandparent´s home. 

I suspect that the meals at McDonald´s in Oaxaca are expensive for the average family, and also represent an obvious change of not only diet, but also attitude.  I did not see a cajita feliz again in the house.  So I only borrowed her box for a few moments, and took care to make certain that it was returned to her. 

When I was seven years old, going to McDonald’s was a huge thrill for me as well.  At that time, it seemed that mainly my family ate at home, and there were lots of Swanson Chicken Pot Pies, and “Weenie Perkel.” (Hot dogs mixed with ketchup and lots of potatoes.)  I even remember being asked what restaurant I wanted to go to for my seventh birthday, as a special treat.  They didn’t have happy meals in those days, but they did have the golden arches, and that’s where I wanted to be.  I used to watch the numbers change on the sign outside the arches.

7,000 served.

Then poco a poco...  Hundreds of thousands served.

So I understand Fani’s attachment to her cajita feliz, as it represents something special, something different. 

Y Ahora...

PAINTINGS COMPLETED AS PART OF PROTEST IN THE ZOCALO, APRIL 2005.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I left Oaxaca (reluctantly and sadly) in late April.  One last trip to the zócalo revealed another uproar and another protest.  There had been a government decision to replace the rather cobbled stones upon which people walked with smoother, pavement-like tiles.  In the process of beginning this construction, one very old tree was knocked down. 

And many were upset about the change in the zócalo.  I asked several different people the reasoning for the change.  (These were all people who lived in Oaxaca city, and were native Oaxacans.)

One said it was for the women who wear high heels.  This was a way to make it easier for them to walk.

Another said it was for mothers (and fathers) pushing baby strollers.  There was a concern that the cobbled stones could cause a baby stroller to lose balance.

A third said it was for the tourists, to make it look more ‘polished’, ‘inviting’, ‘European’.

And still a fourth said it was the work of a very powerful zócalo restaurant owner, a wealthy one at that, who had a lot of clout.  She views the zócalo as her private patio, and didn’t like the dirt, the basura (trash can) effect.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I have grappled for the past twenty years with the term “Third World.”  This first emerged following a nine-month internship in Sri Lanka, yet another country that falls under this general heading.

 I understand that the term denotes a particular economic reality, as does the term “developing” and “developed.”  I know that in cultures where hierarchy (in the language and/or in the experience) is a valued denominator, it is very hard not to place a qualitative judgment alongside the economic one.  The United States is considered “First World.”  And for many, the “first” connotes the best, the biggest, the strongest.  Many intercultural communication students are surprised to learn that the U.S. is neither the physical center of the world (as many maps produced may show) nor has the largest human population of the world’s countries.   Many of those same students likewise cannot name the four most frequently used/spoken languages in the world.  They assume that English must the dominant language by far, because, after all, more people live in the United States than in other world countries.  This then extends to the rationale that “we” need to close “our borders”,  so that more of “them” cannot enter the country.

As I noted in my introduction, the issues confronting Oaxaca as a city, and as an increasingly popular tourist destination, are complex.  Poverty is everpresent, and  the impact of tourism has at least two perspectives (siempre dos manos, so said Gilberto, Ramón, Señora Topete, Esperanza, Señor de Ávila, and almost every other Oaxacan with whom I spoke)  What I do know, and hope for (both within myself and in a broader sense) is an understanding of every cultural group as part of larger system, every cultural group thus necessary.  

I felt the ghostly quality of Teotitlan de Valle when I visited Paco (Francisco) and Petra.  This was a Saturday, and there were few tourists. While this is one of the more prosperous villages (due largely to the production of tapetes—more in Dr. Stephen’s Zapotec Women), what is also true is that many young men have gone to the United States (some with papers, many not) to try and make a living wage.  They send money back to their families, may return for important festivals, but their absence is felt, often in culturally devastating ways.

There is a paternalistic relationship often (usually) between both individuals of “developed nations” and “undeveloped/developing nations”, a sense that the “developed” are there to help those who are “undeveloped.”  That the latter does not really have much to contribute, save for (many think) an economic burden for other countries.  I would beg to differ, and most of the time I do feel this level of longing, this begging of a different view.  

The issue then is and is not about tlayudas and cajitas felices, because these items are representative of  issues that are human, political and economic.  They are historical, environmental and cultural.  Ronald McDonald cannot join the table to take part in a comida, because he is not real.  He does not have a human face.

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