By Alejandro Dávila

It was a sunny Sunday, the Oaxacan Zocalo looked as alive and colorful as always with children running around their parents, groups of tourists pointing their cameras towards churches and towards themselves, tons of balloons in the hands of merchants, artisans next to them sitting in front of the poinsetta flowers recently planted. And above all the sound of music from accordions, guitars and marimbas could be heard all over the plaza. Yet there was something else in the Zocalo that last day of November. Something completely out of the ordinary that the Zocalo had not seen in many years. A group of about a hundred people headed by the recently arrived Dr. Bertha Muñoz took a spot right next to the main kiosk to share anecdotes and reflections on the Oaxacan social movement. Dr. Muñoz served as a moderator who spoke only to ask questions, expand ideas, or redirect the theme of a conversation.

“This is not a political meeting…” said Muñoz after someone began talking through a megaphone. “… This is a space of reflection. If you want to make this political I am leaving. What we have to do here is to be non confrontational and exchange our thoughts and feelings to first make clear to ourselves why we joined the movement.”

Bertha Muñoz, better known as la Doctora Bertha, or simply, La Doctora, became well known in Oaxaca during the violence of 2006 by being one of the main voices on the Radio Universidad. She not only contributed to the mega marches with logistical information, local news and encouragement to the several thousands of men and women who were marching and protesting against the violence from local and federal police. She also went around the city on an ambulance treating the injured and was the first one to establish a health post for the wounded.

Throughout the reflection she was most of the time holding a Raleigh cigarette in her right hand and her eyes jumped nervously from person to person diligently as looking for any potential problem that could be lurking within the people who surrounded her. This comes as no surprise given that during the violence in 2006 she received numerous death threats that eventually forced her to flee the country and stay hidden for nearly two years.

Various touching stories came from a diverse group of women and men of different ages who vividly recreated how and why they joined the marches and how they had been affected by it. One man stated, “I joined because I am the son of a teacher, but I was severely beaten by the police and then fear took over and I decided to stay in my house.” A woman in her mid fifties described in tears that she had “…a deep feeling of impotence and discontent. I can’t believe something so big could have fallen apart so quickly.” Another woman of indigenous descent told “… mama, said my daughters, its dangerous out there you have to stay. But a sense of justice made me join the pots and pans march and it made me happy, I was happy that I was there with other women doing something, like taking over Channel Nine –a Oaxacan television station- that just kept telling lies, and lies, and lies.” 

The conversation lasted for two hours and by the end the group had doubled in number with people and with local and federal police who strolled close by. When Dr. Muñoz decided to finish the meeting she did so after a round of applause, hugs, kisses, gifts and chants calling her name.

“I am not a leader or anything close. I am just one of you, really. I came up with this idea because I believe we need a space to talk about ourselves. I thank you all for everything but the applause is not for me but for all you for not being afraid and coming here today. Do this again next Sunday even if I don’t come. We never know. They could pick me up any time. Just next time I want you to remember to bring a chair, a stool or at least a cushion.”