aquí, ahora:here and now

I am reading a book by Andres Oppenheimer called ‘México en la Frontera del Caos’ (Mexico at the Frontier of Chaos), and in it he discusses political parties’ ‘donations’ to newspapers. He writes that all of the papers in the country accept $ in exchange for pro-party articles, even my favourite La Jornada. The italicised headlines he notes are used to identify these articles (not that many readers would know that) are all through the copy I bought today. Wow. I *love* La Jornada. Just the other day I bonded with an old guy over how lovely it was for Mexico to have such a progressive, independent paper.

Querétaro, Guanajuato, and Mexico City were lovely, but Oaxaca’s been fantastic. Yesterday I took a cooking class with a woman a former Rotary scholar put me in touch with (thanks, Graciela!) that turned into a brief history lesson on the recent troubles here. My mum leaves tomorrow, and I’m flying down to Chiapas the next day to meet with members of some local peacebuilding projects there. I am most interested in learning about the social, political and economic situation in that part of the country, I think it’ll be a highlight of this trip.

This week I am taking a class on Mexican history, specifically the Mexican Revolution. It’s been really interesting to look at the Mexican situation throughout the 19th and 20th centuries with reference to what I learnt at uni about global economics (in the Australian context: European and Asian economics!) during the same period.

One thing that struck me was just how similar indigenous Mexicans’ lot prior to the Revolution (ie in the 1800s) was to Australian Aboriginals’ conditions one hundred years later. The Gurindji were still working for nothing but rations fifty years after such a situation was violently overthrown here. Makes me think about what we mean by ‘developed’ countries!

Last night I listened to a Radio National podcast about Charles Dickens – who he was, why he wrote what he did, and how his writing changed Britain. For people like me, whose reading material tends toward the heavy and blood-soaked, it’s sometimes hard to see any cause for optimism – there’s just so much that is so horrible in the world. Thinking about Dickensian England and pre-Revolution Mexico a very clear and very lovely moment of hope washed over me this morning. Things are better now than one hundred years ago. Not everywhere or for everyone, but they are better, and they will continue to improve.

I’ve found myself in some great conversations since I’ve been here. People are delighted that I’m interested in Mexican politics and history, but sometimes when we move into deeper discussions of culture and society it can get a bit difficult. There are, of course, a few toucht topics, but one’s come up surprisingly often. In the week I’ve been here four people have brought up the subject of homosexuality and spoken of gay people in dismissive and derogatory terms. I believe that the issue of homosexuality is coming out (ha) in the mainstream media here, and it’s very much in preoples’ minds.

I find it very hard to bite my tongue when I come across points of view like these. Silence, after all, implies consent! I always try to put forward my opinions in respectful and non-aggressive ways (and I’m pretty sure that I’m succeeding in this), but it’s always a bit of a struggle to strike a balance between not letting such things go unchallenged and remaining polite and tactful. I planned for this (having travelled in Latin American countries before, I wasn’t expecting everyone to be liberal!), but I still find it difficult.

When someone makes a comment about gay people that I find offensive, if I’m not comfortable starting a discussion and putting forward my point of view I’ll say something like ‘esa opinion es muy fuerte’ (this opinion is very strong). What’s happened the couple of times I’ve said this is the people I’ve been with have said something to the effect of ‘well, yes, I don’t really think that gay people are animals/worth less than others/don’t deserve the same rights as everyone else.’ I hope that by responding in this way I’m gently asserting that I am not in agreement with the ideas expressed by my companion/s, but managing to avoid being dismissive or holier-than-thou, or trying to impose my beliefs on others.

I’d love some advice about this. Is there another, better way to deal with these situations?