Xavier Fields, The roosterleft an indelible mark on many young people who, like me, were part of the team of volunteers in the community of Chinatú, south of the Sierra Tarahumara in the 1990s. The rooster he was our parish priest during this time, and when I say this I don’t mean a “Sunday church priest”. The rooster He was “our parish priest” because he built community, he gave an example of closeness and integration with the Rarámuri culture. The rooster he lived the tensions between indigenous and mestizos on a daily basis, he knew of the divisions caused by the rapid growth of narco and thus he remained close to those who were the most vulnerable; without fear, without hesitation and with great clarity.
I was a multigrade rural teacher at that time in the indigenous community of Agua Amarilla, a few hours from Chinatú, and I listened to the families’ concerns about the future of their children, who would surely have to work as chutameros, as the people who are in charge of cutting marijuana are called. We knew that the Army took care of the crops and that they came to dispossess the territories of the indigenous communities to force them to plant. It was also the Army that from time to time organized raids to “burn” the crops, and despite the fact that the crops did not belong to the indigenous communities, they took them to jail accused of participating in drug trafficking.
Travel long hours with The rooster Through the roads and paths of the Tarahumara it was a learning experience: he knew the historical details of all the areas he visited, he knew the exact data of the height of the mountains and the way in which the composition of the communities had changed. The rooster spoke the Rarámuri language and lived his spirituality with deep admiration for his worldview, fervently participated in the yúmari. She spent long evenings together with the Rarámuri communities drinking tesgüino, dancing matachín and thanking Onorúame for the goods received. Thanks to The rooster and to our dear father Rivera, I understood that the celebrations of bread and wine are lived in community, from fraternal love and shared with a common cause: the search for social justice. There, sitting around him, in his chapel in Chinatú, I learned that “Jesus was so human that he could only be God himself”, and with Latin American songs that gave us goosebumps we remembered the struggle of the base ecclesial communities in El Salvador, Guatemala and Chiapas.
At that time, the voice of the EZLN shook the country and the weariness of the original populations in Mexico due to the lack of rights in which they had lived for centuries became visible. Bishop Llaguno had just passed away in Tarahumara, a Jesuit who, like The rooster “the radical option for the most vulnerable populations” was taken seriously, after having allowed a profound spiritual transformation in contact with the Rarámuri worldview. With Llaguno, the Tarahumara diocese began the training of lay people, where we were given the foundations of the social doctrine of the Church from the perspective of liberation theology and indigenous theologies. They gave us, many young people like me, a strong sociopolitical and at the same time spiritual formation, a formation that was not given in books, but in the affectionate and solidary contact with the communities and their problems, in the community reflections to find other ways of living and relating. That training has been a turning point in my life that I will not tire of thanking.
The deaths of The rooster and Father Mora in Cerocahui managed to break with the normalization of violence, allowing us to be outraged again, hurt once again and raise our voices, as we must do with each of the victims of violence in this country. The death of my dear friend and teacher The rooster, makes me cling to the idea that what we can do is not tire of demanding what the authorities have to do: fulfill their obligation to serve the people by ensuring justice for the hundreds of families who have suffered violence and who continue to face impunity. I am also committed to building other ways of educating ourselves, of taking care of ourselves in the most radical way possible and of seeking to build a political consciousness among our youth with our eyes and hearts set on social justice. The challenges today: how to educate for peace in contexts invaded by the narco? How to open spaces for our youth to flourish in a dignified and peaceful way in areas where the life of the narco is more attractive than service and social transformation? My commitment is not to rest until Mexico achieves reconciliation and peace.