By Bilgesu Sumer
A Story of Hidden Crimes, Water, Privatization, Indigenous People and Paramilitary Attacks.
By Bilgesu Sumer
Many villages, towns, and cities in Oaxaca have names with both Spanish and indigenous components. San Andrés Huayapam is no exception. In Nahuatl, Huayapam means, “Over waters”. True to its native name, Huayapam has been supplying water to Oaxaca City for over 120 years. It is about six kilometers away from the city center. Also, in a neighboring town, on the border with Huayapam, there are two dams that pump water to the city. There is marvelous nature, and if you ever go up the mountains of Huayapam, you might find yourself lost in the deep enjoyment of waterfalls, rivers, forests and trout cooked over hot coals.
At its current pace, the Mexican government will soon privatize the office in charge of privatizations. Almost all core national industries have been privatized. For example, the owner of TELMEX and TELCEL (Mexican Communication Company and the leading GSM operator), Carlos Slim, the wealthiest person in the world, owes his fortune to the privatizations of the 90’s. Operating almost as a monopoly, the service prices of these companies are corruptly high. One can then understand how a nation this poor can nest the richest person on earth. Those who authorized these and other privatizations might be able to explain the blood spilled in San Andrés Huayapam.
As the Mexican government privatizes water, all multinational companies, including the Coca Cola Company, are scavenging for opportunities. In Chiapas, where 70% of the country’s electricity is produced by hydroelectric power, Coca Cola is trying to buy water sources. However, in order to do so, the villagers have to give up on their rights to the administration of communal property. Coca Cola is investing in these towns and villages, helping to build basic infrastructure such as schools and clinics, as a means of invasion. The villagers face pressure by the authorities to give up their communal rights to the land and divide the land into individually owned plots. That way, Coca Cola can buy out individuals one by one, then privatize water and resell it to the indigenous people in plastic bottles.
In Oaxaca, water faces a similar fate, as the state government pressures municipalities to privatize their water sources, selling what little water there is to the highest bidder.
The laws of Oaxaca protect the governing system of “usos y costumbres”. According to this organizational model, a town’s mayor does not have to be affiliated with a political party and has to consult and discuss the decisions of the municipality with the people. In accordance with this practice, Hermilo Mario Hernandez Santiago, a teacher from Huayapam was elected by his community. His story, which follows, comes from the words of his friends— who cannot seek justice for his death and the cover-up that followed. Hermilo and his colleagues had been the architects of the resistance against water privatization.
Hermilo was found dead after a car crash the morning of December 27, 2007, fifty kilometers from the city. There were only four days left until the expiration of his term in office. There was especially heavy pressure put on Huayapam in October and November, but the resistance movement continued to organize with other towns also opposing the privatization of their water resources. The indigenous people, claiming the rights they had gained a century ago, wanted to keep selling the water, but not the source of that water, a fact which bothering the corrupt government and municipality. This story is evidence that the conquest continues; that until the last indigenous village is driven off the face of the earth, capitalism will not be at peace. The ideas that value profit and exploitation over human life, the plans of the descendants of Hernán Cortez, those who dream of gold, are still very alive today.
The newspapers stated that alcohol was found in Hermilo’s blood. According to one newspaper, he was 47 years old. According to others, 45. Every bit of information presented to the public was unclear. And the people were angry, because they knew Hermilo had never drunk alcohol in his life. Nor had he ever learned to drive a car. What was he doing outside the city at that time of the day? Why were important state PRI politicians present in his funeral? Why would anyone who came up to the stage in his funeral to demand justice, be forced to step down?
The people were enraged. The inconsistencies of the story moved the people to raise a barricade on the highway. They hadn’t simply killed their mayor; he was also their son and their teacher. He was known for having dedicated his life entirely to his people, to his village. He, and everyone else in the village, had resisted the unjust threat of privatization. No one could believe Hermilo’s death was an accident. The story about Hermilo driving drunk was out of the question.
The information that I have relies on what his friends and colleagues have told me. The situation is dangerous for those who try to gather evidence. The female doctor that conducted the first autopsy on the corpse won’t even answer the phone.
According to my sources, the minute the doctor unbuttoned Hermilo’s shirt, she saw traces of torture all over his body. The autopsy was interrupted: she was told that her services were no longer necessary, and she was fired. Another doctor entered the room and signed an autopsy report without even examining the body. Meanwhile, news about the causes of his death were spreading despite the official autopsy report. The cover-up strategy was unfolding silently.
No one was allowed to approach Hermilo’s family during the funeral because priests were surrounding them. The casket was not open. Those who wanted to deliver eulogies were silenced as soon as they mentioned the word “justice”. A high school girl cried out these words: “My teacher, Hermilo, was everything to me. Forgive me, mom and dad, but he was more important than you have been. What happened to him is unjust, unfair. I can only hope that justice is served, because Hermilo never deserved this. He was always with us, always defending us”. The student was promptly asked to step down by politicians.
Hermilo’s friends tried to convince his family to expose the truth. But unmarried and without children, there is no one in Hermilo’s family who can dedicate themself to seeking justice. His parents are old and poor. Also, hindered by the curtain of religion, his family replied to Hermilo’s friends that justice will be served in God’s realm, and that they have accepted his death as an accident. Incapable of defending themselves against the paramilitary threats, the people are afraid. Finally, Hermilo’s friends came to accept the wishes of his family regarding his death.
Still, no one doubts that behind his death is the issue of water. His friends are sure that he was killed after hours of torture because he refused to sign the papers for the privatization of the water sources. They assert that he was murdered by the paramilitaries because he chose to defend the rights of his people over a wealthy and easy retirement.
The hands of those who want justice are tied. The villagers are angry but hopeless. His family is left without a penny and in terror. His friends are silently crying out, unable to do anything for such a brave man, a man that fought for justice all his life. He was cowardly murdered and declared an alcoholic.
Despite the official story, the farewell of those who knew him echoes in despair: “¡Los valientes y dignos como Hermilo no se entierran, se siembran! Hermilo, hermano, la semilla de tu ejemplo, aunque callada, está sembrada… En cada uno de tus alumnos, en todos los hombres y mujeres del pueblo que defendiste con tu vida, en tus amig@s que tuvimos la fortuna de conocerte”.
