I left Tahlequah, Oklahoma around 9:30 a.m. on Saturday, December 24 in a Ford Van that sounded like it was fixing to break in two. I was in the company of a diverse humanity that can be generally labeled as consisting of Mexican workers returning from Oklahoma to Mexico. From Oklahoma City to Dallas, Texas there were about 14 of us in the van. We were packed like sardines.
It was arduous, but I was honored to be witnessing the re-conquest of America by indigenous people.
The re-conquest is nothing like the conquest. The conquest was a thing of murder, rape, theft, and extortion. The re-conquest is a gentle, peaceful thing of hard physical work, humility, self-sacrifice, and patience.
This non-violent war for America may change and once again become violent. The United States´ economy will tank. The United States will try to make another great wall to rival China´s.
But I say viva los re-conquetadores!
In Dallas we changed from the van to a full size bus - that even had cinema - a movie entitled ´The Lunatics of Tin Tan."
My plan was to go to Nuevo Laredo, catch a train, and go the length of Mexico playing my harmonica in tune with a great locomotive engine. But it was not to be. Mexico´s once great train system is a gutted, derelict shadow of itself. We arrived at the border around 12:30 a.m. on Christmas. I was strongly advised - told that it would be a potentially fatal misadventure to get off the bus in the middle of the night IN Nuevo Laredo looking for a train station which the driver honestly didn´t know the location of.
Then I was bound to Matahuala where the driver thought there was passenger train service.
Sometime around 3:30 a.m. I had the nightmare.
I was in this defended, defensive structure - like a missile base, with other people. An insanely maleviolent, but well-dressed, invisible man with an invisible pistol enters this structure with the clear intent of murdering everyone. I am the only one that can see him - in defiance of all his efforts to conceal himself. But at first I was unable to make a sound to give warning, and I was unable to move.
He began punching and tickling me, thinking that I would be unable to do anything about it. For a long dream time I couldn´t do anything about it. Then I began making faint tortured moans, then I began moaning louder, then I started giving full-throated, blood curdling screams. There were other screams from the suddenly awakened. I scared the shit out of pretty much everyone on the bus. But two old men across the aisle had been awake conversing. They heard the whole thing. They mimicked the sounds I had made and then went into long mirthful, riotous laughter.
I fully joined them, much relieved it was only a dream.
When the laughter stopped the old men told of dreams in which grown men saw El Diablo and made sounds like I made. I told them I didn´t think it was the devil - but maybe it was that kind of dream.
We arrived at Matahuala around 9:30 a.m., Christmas morning. I had gone back to sleep, was deeply asleep when I was suddenly awakened by our arrival. A taxi cab driver seized my back pack as soon as it was unloaded. He left my sight as I was saying good-bye to my new compadres. I ran to catch up with him as he started the taxi and seemed to be pulling away.
When the taxi was in motion I told the driver I wanted to go to the train station. He told me the train station was 30 maybe 40 miles away. He told me I may be able to get a train at San Luis Potosi which was the next stop of the bus I had just left. I told him to take me back to the bus.
I gave him a dollar for his trouble.
When I got to San Luis Potosi, I was told that passenger train service had ended two weeks before. When my backpack was unloaded I saw that my tent and sleeping bag had been stolen.
I walked to the central train station and a long, crowded journey to Mexico City. I arrived at sun down. I was told there was no easy way to get to the train station. I tried to buy a bus ticket to San Cristobal de las Casas. But I didn´t have enough pesos. All the banks were closed. I lost on the out-of-the-bank conversion. Then I was bound for Chiapas.
Christmas was arduous. But I did negotiate the traversing of most of the length of Mexico. I awoke around 9 a.m. on Monday, December 26 for the dramatic climb up the precipices on which San Cristobal is perched.
The city is much like it was when I was last here in 1997. It is beautiful, exotic, dark, medieval kind of place. It is a place where you can easily envision a meeting with El Diablo as you walk the narrow, cobble stone streets.
Senor Diablo, master of this fallen world - it is true that I screamed like a bitch.
But it is also true that try as you might you could not stop me from screaming and giving warning.
I am not in your power.
And I say to you Senor Diablo - bring it on bee-otch!