In this second part of our word is our weapon we really get to see more of Marcos literary storytelling prowess, which is tied in with the more frequent mentioning of children within the Zapatista movement, and then in the later half of this part we move to the Indigenous lessons and values that were taught to him through stories by Don Antonio. Marcos personality is shone through his own stories, stories for which he writes, in this part, through Durito, a tiny armored beetle with a large personality. I quite enjoyed the telling of Durito’s leave of absence from Mexico City, pictured in my head in a 1950s black and white scene with his grand fedora, trench coat and pipe, all beetle size. Throughout all his writing, the mirror comes up a lot, and with Durito, his disdain for the blasé attitudes of urban way of living which constantly reflected off of each other was exhausting; solitudes constantly reflecting solitudes. At some instances the mirror becomes transparent, turning simply into glass, and from this we our reminded of our yearning to break through and connect. Through Durito, he found his solace by leaving the city and being the provinces, an area of underdevelopment and destitute, as seen through the Aguascalientes library yet, made colourful through this willingness and need for camaraderie, from breaking the glass which has been placed purposively to divide. This understanding is different from what I had posted in my last week’s blog, as it is more than seeing yourself in another person’s reflection, rather it is seeing (and listening to) la PERSONA only, and breaking through perceived difference, reconciling our skin (barriers) which prevents us from literally becoming one.

The recounting of stories from Don Antonio give context to the Indigenous teachings for which Marcos has heard and which cement and propagate his philosophies of the Zapatista endured struggle (genocide). There are a multitude of stories told, and I want to say at least a third draw straight from the Popol Vuh itself, some epigraphs included. This includes the XHunahpu and Xbalanque and their fights with the Xibalba and the story of Seven Macaw. I loved the stories in this section, in part because of Marcos and writing, and of Don Antonio and his telling,  but also because it illuminates how oral indigenous storytelling traditions and ways of passing on knowledge give grace for multiple stories to coexist and to be retold and interpreted freely without much cause of concern for minute delineations from one ‘proper’ text/source. For example, in Popol Vuh it is said that Hunahpu rises up to become the sun and Xbalanque the moon, while from Don Antonio we learn that it was little lake which was then turned into the moon.