La voz - November 2017

November 2017 | Vol. 30 Issue 9

San Antonio, Tejas

Calaveras & Literary Ofrendas 2017

November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

Editor Gloria A. Ramírez Design Elizandro Carrington Cover image: Esperanza Dia de muertos Tapete photo by Ray Santisteban and Calaca illustrations by Aleida

Literary Calaveras & Ofrendas

Janie Cepeda, Sally Gaytán-Baker, Lois Heger, Pamela Michelle Herrera, Yvette Méndez, Adriana Netro, Jo Reyes-Boitel, Jessica Rocca, Nadine Saliba, Enrique Sánchez, Luissana Santibanez, Norma Rodríguez, Rita Urquijo-Ruiz, Brad Veloz, Terri Ybarra, Z, Victoria Zapata-Klein, Yoly Zentella

Día de los muertos contributors Ana María González, Jeanie Sanders, Marilyn Wallner, Ruthie Van Winkle

La Voz Mail Collective

Leticia Anderson, Alicia Arredondo, Elisa Díaz, Juan Díaz, Alma R. Dueñas, Margarita Elizarde, Mirna Guerrero, Gloria Lozano, Gene March, Raven Medina, Angie Merla, Ray & Lucy Pérez, Mary A. Rodríguez,, Mike Sánchez, Guadalupe Segura, Roger Singler, Tomasa Torres, Inés Valdez

Esperanza Director

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9•

Graciela I. Sánchez

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Esperanza Staff

Elizandro Carrington, Paty de la Garza, Eliza Pérez, Natalie Rodríguez, René Saenz, Susana Segura, Amelia Valdez

Conjunto de Nepantleras —Esperanza Board of Directors—

Rachel Jennings, Amy Kastely, Jan Olsen, Ana Lucía Ramírez, Gloria A. Ramírez, Rudy Rosales, Tiffany Ross, Lilliana Saldaña, Nadine Saliba, Graciela I. Sánchez, Lillian Stevens • We advocate for a wide variety of social, economic & environmental justice issues.

• Opinions expressed in La Voz are not necessarily those of the Esperanza Center.

La Voz de Esperanza is a publication of

Esperanza Peace & Justice Center 922 San Pedro, San Antonio, TX 78212 210.228.0201 • fax 1.877.327.5902

www.esperanzacenter.org Inquiries/Articles can be sent to: lavoz@esperanzacenter.org Articles due by the 8th of each month

Policy Statements

* We ask that articles be visionary, progressive, instructive & thoughtful. Submissions must be literate & critical; not sexist, racist, homophobic, violent, or oppressive & may be edited for length. * All letters in response to Esperanza activities or articles in La Voz will be considered for publication.

Letters with intent to slander individuals or groups will not be published.

Andrea Gómez, TGP—1957

La Voz de Esperanza

Taller de Gráfica Popular, TGP, (“People’s Graphic Workshop) was an artists’ print collective founded in Mexico in 1937 by artists Leopoldo Méndez, Pablo O’Higgins and Luis Arenal after the Liga de Escritores y Artistas Revolucionarios (LEAR, League of Revolutionary Writers and Artists), a group of artists who had supported the goals of the Mexican Revolution dissolved. The collective used art to advance revolutionary social causes such as anti-militarism, organized labor and opposition to fascism. It kept alive the rich tradition of printmaking in Mexico, particularly the legacy of José Guadalupe Posada and Manuel Manilla. During the Civil Rights Movement, Chicano and African American artists such as Elizabeth Catlett produced work at the Taller including posters, handbills, banners, etc. The art was often made through the collaborative process and the Taller took the anticommercial policy of not numbering prints. It was the first political publishing workshop in Mexico to do so. The Taller’s work continues to be an inspiration, especially in these challenging times. Our centerfold, laid out as a broadsheet contains several images from the TGP artists. This November issue of La Voz de Esperanza is dedicated to Posada and El Taller for their rich contributions to our history and literature. Muchisimas gracias a toda la gente que hicieron posible ésta decimonovena edición (19th edition) de Calaveras y Ofrendas Literaras de La Voz de Esperanza. ¡Aquí va la bola de calaveras!

—Gloria A. Ramirez, editor of La Voz

CALAVERITA a las Calaveritas

Calaveras & Literary Ofrendas of La Voz de Esperanza 2017

Tiempo, inspiración y ganas Necesita el escritor; Que aunque sean Calaveritas Debe dárseles honor.

Time, inspiration and desire Stoke a Calavera writer’s fire Though written for Day of the Dead It’s an honor for them to be read

Pues con honor y gracia fina La Muerte ha de ser tratada, No sea que al final del día Nos lleve pronto a la Tiznada.

Literatos e ignorantes Con ton y son escriben Unos cuantos versos gratos Pal placer de los que viven.

In many forms and themes they arrive To entertain those still alive With our Calaveras we’ll toast La Catrina who’ll serve as their host

Our Ofrendas, stories and rhymes Reverently speak of those times When loved ones still lived on this earth And we recall their laughter and mirth

A La Voz de Esperanza Llegan largas o cortitas; De diversos temas hablan Las bellas Calaveritas.

—Adriana Netro

With a bit of wit, satire and grace We treat death in a special way Because at the end of the day We may encounter her face to face —GAR

ATTENTION VOZ READERS: If you have a mailing address correction please send it to lavoz@ esperanzacenter.org. If you want to be removed from the La Voz mailing list, for whatever reason, please let us know. La Voz is provided as a courtesy to people on the mailing list of the Esperanza Peace and Justice Center.

The subscription rate is $35 per year ($100 for institutions). The cost of producing and mailing La Voz has substantially increased and we need your help to keep it afloat. To help, send in your subscriptions, sign up as a monthly donor, or send in a donation to the Esperanza Peace and Justice Center. Thank you. -GAR VOZ VISION STATEMENT: La Voz de Esperanza speaks for many individual, progressive voices who are gente-based, multi-visioned and milagro-bound. We are diverse survivors of materialism, racism, misogyny, homophobia, classism, violence, earth-damage, speciesism and cultural and political oppression. We are recapturing the powers of alliance, activism and healthy conflict in order to achieve interdependent economic/ spiritual healing and fuerza. La Voz is a resource for peace, justice, and human rights, providing a forum for criticism, information, education, humor and other creative works. La Voz provokes bold actions in response to local and global problems, with the knowledge that the many risks we take for the earth, our body, and the dignity of all people will result in profound change for the seven generations to come.

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2017 L O S M 2017 UE E D R LOS Mexico’s Día de Muertos Photo: Ana Maria González

by Robert & Mary Helen Pérez

When we tell people that we travel to different states in Mexico for Day of the Dead everyv year since we retired, they figure we visit cemeteries and take pictures of flower decorated tombs and people gathered around them. Yes we do that, but...there is so much more.

How does one explain or describe the torrents of memories, feelings and insights created from colored sands, sawdust and the natural colors of seeds grains and beans used to create images called tapetes?

How does one explain our attempt to capture the past and the future in the present dance of light and shadows?

How does one describe the sounds the famiPhoto: Robert & Mary Helen Pérez lies request from mariachi, conjunto, banda and Bio: Robert & Mary Helen Pérez, retired even Veracruz harp musicians to welcome their educators have collected thousands of photos depicting loved ones with their favorite songs and corridos? this solemn, colorful tradition—that is very much alive.

Our photos might capture images of altars decorated with

Tierra Tierra fértil, que se moja que se abre para recibir la semilla para intentar una vida.

Tierra seca que se agrieta que se acaba, para convertirse en tumba

y finalmente solo sirve de sepultura…

—Ana María González Photo:Robert & Mary Helen Pérez

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

corn, gourds, candles, fruits, mole, skulls, crosses, photos, water and honey but we can’t convey the smells of incense and copal that rise around them.

We don’t have the time to tell people that some cities have parades, carnivals, and even bullfights during these days. Or, that universities and museums offer discussions and seminars on the famous Catrina prints of Jose Guadalupe Posada seen on tee shirts or the significance of the cardinal position which buried skeletons face when discovered in tombs near pyramids.

All we can say is that we try to smuggle these captured images in our film and memory cards to the U. S. to proudly show off our unique Mexican cultural traditions. Our muertos traditions live. ¡Que vivan los muertos!

3 Photo: Robert & Mary Helen Pérez

Li t e r a r y We love you more than our eyes

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9•

(Nahil Saliba 1933-2017)

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Baba habiby, You may be wondering what’s been going on in your absence.

I’ll start with mama because I know how worried you always were about her. “How’s your mom?” was always your first question whenever I came to stay with you at the hospital. Well, she doesn’t remember that you died four months ago. She saw the paramedics working on you close to 45 minutes, pumping your chest over and over again. She saw two men from the funeral home bear you lifeless into their car. She saw us crying and saw our relatives and friends come over and cry with us. But she doesn’t remember any of it. The first week or two, we kept reminding her, and every time we did, she shouted khalas? And we would say, eh mama khalas, that’s it. Ya delli, woe is me, is all she would say as she melted into a puddle of silent grief. We noticed a downturn in her health, so we stopped reminding her. Now she thinks you’re in the hospital, like you were seven times in the last year.

People tell us it’s easier that way, it’s less painful not to remember. But it’s not.

Everyday she expects you to come back home and everyday you don’t. At night she asks us if you’re coming back tonight? We say no, and the barrel of pain that lands on us is outweighed only by our concern for her.

Her pain, unable to find words, seeps through her eyes; disappointed, sad and half-cast, they withdraw from us and sink into themselves as she mutters a supplication for God to heal you.

Imane and I, on the other hand, all we do is remember. Could

it be any other way? We even remember the things we have forgotten. How could we forget, we say with self-reproach, we should’ve recorded everything, written down every story you told us, every answer you gave us, you were our reference. Who will answer our questions on history and Arabic poetry now?

They say age and longevity are in God’s hands but we exhausted you and ourselves trying to ward off death, as though every time we measured your body temperature or logged your oxygen level we were performing an incantation. The last time you left the hospital you were doing much better, you looked so well, what happened ya habiby? I know that your beautiful, compassionate and tired heart had struggled for years, for our sake, to pump blood despite artery blockage. So why did it suddenly give up before it gave me a chance to make the stuffed zucchini and eggplant you were craving my sweetheart.

Is it possible to get used to the idea of losing you? The routine of daily life may distract us for a little while but something banal happens and it reminds us all over again.

We use your made-up expressions now, your playful pronunciations of certain words, even your mispronunciations of English words to conjure you in our midst. When the Arabic songs you love come on, they tear us to pieces and thread us back together with their quarter tones. All the love songs about separation, loss, longing and even reproach for the beloved’s departure are now about you baba. “If you intended to leave for good, why didn’t you say so the last time?”

—Nadine Saliba

Gloria Anzaldúa (1942-2004)

Al llegar el décimotercero (13th) anniversario de su batalla con el maldito diabetes, todo aquello que Gloria Anzaldúa abogó nos da pena al recorder su partida. La calavera no perdona ni a una grande como Gloria que fue activista, filósofa, autora, lesbiana—trascendiendo años y decadas con su fuerza, escritos y voz. Aunque la calaca se la ha llevado—su presencia permanece sobre todo lo que tocó. Lleva 30 años desde la realización de su libro, Borderlands, que nos recuerda que siempre estamos al borde de fronteras. Hoy y siempre seguirá su fama y virtud. ¡Gloria Anzaldúa, presente!

—Janie Cepeda

—Mary Agnes Rodríguez

Ofrendas She Dances/Ella Baila

by Pamela Michelle Saenz Herrera

I wake alone I bake alone I ache alone

Routine and familial obstacles, I face No trace of you Looking for a humble abode I fumble, I bumble, and crumble alone Facing life with strife, no sign of you No one to share, no one to bare the cross of life Chasing dreams it seems easier to catch moon beams than wait, negate the fate of our state I am beyond blue No breath from you, the death of you Destroyed and in shambles I rebuild a life without you —z

Maria Del Carmen Ocaña Rodriguez 1941-2017

me dejaste solita,

sin risa, sin locuras como cuando ibamos a la playa y nos tomabamos unas chelas,

nos pasabamos el tiempo mirando a los chavos y teasing our pelo. ¿Recuerdas?

Una vez mamá nos sorprendío fumando cigarillos, ¡qué escándalo, qué drama! ¿Te acuerdas?

Eramos locas, hermanas y amigas. Tu fuiste mi muy buena gente, mi otro yo.

El Teatro Alameda

Sufrimos juntas la vida, los amores, los recuerdos, los engaños, la decepción.

Teatro popular con cine y variedades Que hace tiempo se cerró y sigue así Existe el interés de volverlo a renacer Ojalá vuelva a funcionar para el deleite de todos Nos hace falta un teatro así: amplio y lujoso Tantas películas, tantos artistas ¡Ánimo Raza!

—Enrique Sánchez

Ahora tu ya no sufres. Pero yo quedé aquí solita.

— Yoly Zentella

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

A dancer’s heart never stops beating. A dancer’s mind never stops thinking. A dancer’s feet never stop moving. A dancer’s passion never fades.

Before she took the stage, she sat in the dressing room. She looked up at her Abuela, who was her soulmate. Her Abuela was the blood that flowed through her veins. Her Abuela was the reason she danced. Her Abuela was everything to her.

“Abuela, do you think I have what it takes?” she asked. Insecurity was within her voice.

Her Abuela smiled gently at her.

“Mija, mi amor, you can do anything you want.” she responded. “You have what most people do not have. You have passion. Your heart smiles every time you dance.”

She smiled at her Abuela. “Gracias mi Abuela.” she said. Joy began to fill her heart.

They embraced. Such love and tenderness could be felt. An embrace that brought back her security and her confidence.

“I think it’s time.” she said as they pulled away from their embrace.

Her Abuela smiled gently. “Mija, be yourself and others will love your performance.”

She took her Abuela’s hand into hers. As she turned to walk out of the dressing room, her Abuela let go of her hand. Before she walked out of the room, she turned back around to catch one final glimpse of her beloved Abuela.

Her Abuela was gone.

Yet, she smiled, knowing her Abuela was no longer living in her physical state. However, her Abuela was living in her heart, in her mind and in her memories.

A dancer’s heart never stops beating. A dancer’s mind never stops thinking. A dancer’s feet never stops moving. A dancer’s passion never fades.

—In Honor of Mi Abuela, Lucille Saenz

The Death of Ru

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—Mary Agnes Rodriguez

Li t e r a r y O f r e n d a s - c o n t i n u e d

El árbol de la familia y las azucenas: Repositorios de recuerdos

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by Norma Longoria Rodríguez

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In the grassy field steps away from the homestead of a borderlands pioneer family grows an eloquent anacua, known as the Family Tree.

In the evenings below its canopy, the children sat listening attentively to the stories told by the elders. During the day, after their chores and their lessons in their father’s escuelita were completed, the girls role-played las comadritas with their rag dolls and miniature Mexican pottery dishes that their mother filled with real food. The boys held competitive contests with their canicas, and trompos. When they Photo credit: RCR grew tired of this, the children played A las escondidas, Al encantado or béisbol with the anacua as home base. Quick trips to the tinaja quenched their thirst.

The children picked the anacua’s yellow-red berries for their mother’s delicious dulces, empanadas and preserves which they spread on the piping hot pan de levadura that she baked in a cast iron dutch oven in the fireplace. On sweltering summer afternoons the children sat under the anacua’s softly swaying branches and read, or retold the elders’ stories. Soon they grew drowsy, and

First you came in the middle of the night And you took my papa’s light But he came to me in a dream And told things would be alright.

leaning against the anacua’s massive trunk or cuddled in its cushiony low-hanging branches, they slipped into an afternoon slumber in the cool shade.

It is here in this splendidly serene place and not far from the tree, that three white lilies sprout from the red earth after each rain and bloom ethereally. Family legend has it that year after year, perhaps one hundred, perhaps more, the azucenas bloom when it rains.

How long ago and who planted them, no one really knows. Of one thing, however, I am certain: it is in memory of the children and the family’s history, that for over a century, in good weather as well as in the scorching summer heat, through whirling whistling winds, blustery blue northers and devastating droughts that the Family Tree still thrives majestically in concert with the azucenas’ bloom.

In memory of the children of Antonio Longoria and Antonia Bazán Longoria of El Campo Ranch, Puerto Rico, TX, circa early 1900’s.

La Muerte

Primero llegaste en medio de la noche Y tú tomaste la luz de mi papá Pero él vino a mí—en un sueño Y dijo que las cosas estarían bien.

I thought I was prepared when you Came for my Mama’s light.

But the sorrow and pain Overcame my strength.

Pensé que estaba preparado cuando Vino por la luz de mi mamá.

Pero el dolor y la tristeza Superó mi fuerza.

Then you took my little ones, And again, I cried and cried Until I felt no more pain.

Soon you will come for me,

Entonces tomaste a mis pequeños, Y otra vez lloré y lloré Hasta que no sentí más dolor.

Pronto vendrás por mí,

But I will rejoice to see the light Of my loved ones once again.

Pero me regocijaré al ver la luz De mis seres queridos una vez más.

—Brad Veloz

Calacas en el ropero Escondidos y obscuros secretos, tradición es la vergüenza ocultar.

Letanías que gimen los muertos, gritos que hemos de ahogar.

Calacas en el ropero, memorias en confinamiento.

Cadáveres del pasado a la luz infligen sufrimiento.

Esqueletos en el armario guardados, restos mortales insondables.

Desmemoria reducida a huesos y cúmulo de evidencias insoportables.

Calacas en el ropero, mierda impunemente soterrada.

Delitos proscritos con esmero y la culpa que no puede ser expiada.

Todos en el closet difuntos almacenamos, tanto el rey cómo el mendigo, “santos” y “villanos”, todos humanos.

Huyendo del juicio y el castigo.

Calacas en el ropero, nuestros “pecados” bajo llave velamos.

En el desfile del ego altanero con la máscara de la virtud marchamos. ¿Y tu?... ¿Qué guardas en el ropero?

—J Rocca

Jesusita

Jesusita se llamaba mujer joven de Saltillo Una casa de bloques adobe construyó con mucho brillo Gran ahinco demonstró y de su vida era dueña Más la Catrina alrededor la rondaba Yo me llevo a la Norteñ ­ —Enrique Sánchez

La señora de la limpieza no ha podido venir hoy a mi casa.

Tenía que ir a sepultar a su esposo, a llorarle, a corresponder los abrazos que le ofrecieran a manera de consuelo.

La señora hoy no limpia porque su esposo yace rígido después de haber perecido en su batalla contra el mortal signo del zodíaco...

No más dolor, no más angustias, sólo tiene que pasar este momento amargo para saber que una puede volver a la rutina, a la tarea de limpiar la tierra y todo lo que en ella nos calcina, una basura, una mancha, el piso de madera que debe pulirse, para no percatarse que la señora de la limpieza ha faltado a su tarea para enterrar a su esposo quien le prometió con una lágrima esperarla con paciencia.

—Ana María González

Shy teenager told our mother what was in her heart.

Mother yelled and cursed-worried what people would think.

Beat my sister with a broom as she lay curled up on the floor protecting her head from vicious blows.

She tried her best to conform.

Married a mild mannered man, had a beautiful daughter.

When my sister moved away she cried.

Begged me not to hate her for what she is.

I wiped away her tears, waved good-bye as she boarded the plane.

—­Jessica Rocca

Before her life with Maricela, she was like each and every one of us— searching for love and acceptance.

—Sally Gaytán-Baker

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

Sepelio

BEFORE

Before my sister understood her feelings, she was a quiet timid little girl.

Just a phase some said, late bloomer others commented.

—Mary Agnes Rodríguez

—Liliana Wilson

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8

2017

“¡No es hombre! Tiene más el sabor ¡De llanta y gasolina!” y lanzó en eructo.

—Jo Reyes-Boitel

En lugar, se quedó como Un galleta salada Lo mordió La Muerte, diciendo:

Pero ella no sabía que el 45 dejó de pintar su pelo Pa’ ‘parecer mas humano y dignificado.

Llegó La Muerte por el 45 Fue busque y busque por entre la casa blanca Por el pelo anaranjado

Calavera al pelo del el 45

She’s toying with him, La Catrina is taking her time with her dance.

Her elegant bony hand in his small one she aims a hollow grin at his orange face.

He believes it shows admiration.

He still doesn’t know the dance of the living.

This may take more time than you like.

Ah, but time for La Catrina means nothing.

—Lois Heger

Despacito

One more year...

Calaveras, why not?

Let the tradition continue!

For the thieves, the liars, the traitors I think it’s worth calling them out The best way is to write them Calaveras Maybe some will be offended, To that I say—If the shoe fits, wear it!

If not, let’s go on with the Calaveras!

—GAR

We’re in the year 2017!

Un año más... ¿Calaveras? ¿Porqué no? ¡Que siga la tradición!

Para los ladrones, los embusteros, los traicioneros Pienso a veces que vale la pena reconocerlos La mejor manera es escribirles Calaveras Quizás algunos se ofenderán Pués, yo digo—Si les viene el saco que lo calen Si no, ¡que sigan las Calaveras!

—Enrique Sánchez

Dos mil diez y siete

de la Voz de Esperanza

Calaveras

José Guadalupe Posada works on a print surrounded by calacas representing (left to right) Diego Rivera, José Clemente Orozco, Leopoldo Méndez and Dr Atl, all of whom had a role in reviving interest in Posada’s work.

The skeletons in top hats and dresses represent the upper classes fleeing from him. —Alfredo Zalce, 1948 Right, Leopoldo Méndez print..

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9•

—Calveras Aftosas, Taller de Grafica Popular, 1947

Entonces tuvo que llegar el mero chamuco A prenderle fuego a su calzón Y a gritos y empujones P’al infierno lo llevó.

—Yvette Méndez

Mas llevarselo no pudo a ese vil corrupto Trompudo.

¡Ay desgraciado!

Gritó la pobre pelona espantada

Cuando llegó la Santa Muerte A llevarse ese cabrón, El muy listo se aprovechó Pa meterle mano Y agarrarle su mechón.

Ignorantes masas movilizaba Desde el púlpito de la nación Incitando a la violencia, el ódio y el rencor.

Con la swastika en la frente En puro twitter se la pasaba Espantando pobres inocentes, y revocando leyes de Obama.

Un día en Noviembre llegó un pinche presidente Con puro colmillo y diente, dividiendo a nuestra gente.

El Trompudo

Y así se fueron volando la Calaca y el racista la gente está celebrando la muerte del egoísta —Rita Urquijo-Ruiz

“—Venga acá, Don Pelucón” le dijo al Cheeto, enfadada “me lo llevo ya al panteón y le seré despiadada.”

Y alerta estaba la flaca apuntando en su librito errores del come-caca pa’ llevarlo al infinito

Porque suele ser la gente la que se esfuerza y apoya y el gobierno intransigente al contrario, más embrolla

En Houston ya, sin embargo, y en Florida y Puerto Rico el pueblo ya se hace cargo de ayudar a grande y chico

Como siempre, el muy idiota se toma todo su tiempo al campo de golf se remonta no le afectan contratiempos

Harvey, Irma y (Ave)María con sus chubascos enormes al mundo confirmarían lo inútil que es este hombre

Ah, maldita destrucción han causado estas tormentas huracanes, conmoción y a Trump nada que le afecta

LOS HURACANES DEL “GOLF-O”

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Porque nuestros sueños viven y sin nosotrxs los ricos no tendrán quien los motive ni siga de sus borricos “—Ahora verán desgraciados” dijo fuerte, Doña muerte “me los tendré justiciados, así ya verán su suerte”

Nos privan de vidas dignas de salarios razonables con sus leyes tan malignas la lucha es interminable

Y hasta en lo del “birth control” sus narices también meten pero al mayor de los “trolls” su viagra siempre prometen

Pero al mero terrorista de Las Vegas no privaron de armas militaristas por ser güero adinerado

—Mary Agnes Rodríguez

A uno por uno escogió de cada torre del mundo a todos se los llevó para el lugar más profundo

—Rita Urquijo-Ruiz

“—Porque yo le haré su muro a cada rico maldito verán como me apresuro a hacerles sus cajoncitos.”

A lxs “dreamers” e inmigrantes amenazadxs nos tienen pero leyes denigrantes jamás al pueblo detienen

Porque es claro que no importa cómo todos sobrevivan los ricos solo transportan mercancías y nos privan

Y hasta el uso de los baños quieren regularizar el género es un engaño logran aterrorizar

Porque este desgraciado a sus súbditos somete ya nunca queda saciado y a todxs nos compromete

En un mundo dividido por murallas y paredes ya está todo decidido hemos caído en sus redes

MUNDO DE MUROS

Don Calaveras’ Calaveras —by Enrique Sánchez

Burlando

Dos Mil Diez y Siete: Aqui Van Más Calaveras!

Cumpli los ochenta y ocho y a pesar de mi edad, Me búrlo de “La Catrina.”

Me doy esta libertad por seguir la tradición, además “La Huesuda” es mi madrina.

“La Huesuda” me persigue y ni cuenta yo me doy; Con el tiempo y un ganchito acabará lo que soy.

Por mientras, hay que seguir adelante y evitar tropezón, Así, teniendo cuidado no me lleva de un jalón.

La burla contra la muerte es algo tradicional Aparte de Calaveras tambien me gusta cantar ¡ Que caray! A mi edad ya debería parar Canciones Mexicanas aparecen en mi mente Las canto y aprendo los versos aqui va la siguiente: “Soy Charro de rancho grande y hasta el amor bebo en jarro Hay muchos que por costumbre hablan nomas por hablar Hay muchos que prenden lumbre y no saben pagar Este año decidí escribir calaveras para gente que conosco No a los politicos de a daime Esos que vayan a la porra. ­ —Enrique Sánchez

Elefantes y un Ratón

El partido de elefantes sigue vieja tradición, Pelean por su partido y a la porra la nación.

La división causada por el lider qué es ratón, Asusta a los elefantes y empeora la situación Es tiempo que “La Catrina” les pare ésta función Y entierre a los elefantes juntitos con el ratón.

El Governador y El Teniente

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Desventura

—Lola Cueto

Problemas y Más Problemas

Que Desgracia! Se voto por un gran vendedor Luego, luego se dieron cuenta fulano, mengano y zutano Tres personas populares los cuales no votaron ¡Que desgracia!

Pero no hay que llorar, no valen la pena La que cuenta es la que se llevó al vendedor y a los 3 tales La Catrina nunca falla Si no hoy, es mañana

No cesan los problemas en la ala oeste, Este lugar esta poblado con gente ignorante.

Los ócupan y desocupan—que hasta da risa. Órden no la hay, ¿organización? ¡Ja, ja, ja!

Lo malo de todo es que mundialmente tenemos payasos Encargados de una—la nación mas poderosa. ¿No verdad?

The problems in the west wing don’t seem to stop.

This place is populated by ingoramuses They are hired and fired constantly. It’s even funny.

No order, organization? LOL! Worldwide, we have clowns in charge of running The most powerful nation. Really!

El Trato

Street Grafiti

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9•

—Aleida

¡Que lastima! De los dos no se hace uno Emperrados en su partido, no piensan en los que sirven Así son muchas politicos.

El interés del teniente es dificil para el de comprender ¿Para usar un excusado presentar acta de nascimiento? ¡Que barbaridad!

El Gobernador sigue los pasos a “su merced” Trump ¿Que vamos hacer? ¿Que importa si naces hombre o mujer? ­

Quizo Trump hacer un trato con La Catrina Con decir que hasta la queria como madrina El era gran negociante, de nada le valió Cons sus mañas y mentiras el Millionario perdió Con su porte y el pelo rubio convenció a mucha gente Se salió con la suya y logró ser Presidente Más La Huesuda no toleró tanto imprudencia y en dos por tres Se lo llevó Doña Tencha

The Four

Horsemen

—Leopoldo Méndez

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

Hurricanes, wild fires, massive have millennia of experience. I’ve nevearthquakes, shootings, terrorism, and er witnessed such catastrophic events; bitter politics: How do I address the chaos I don’t know how to react accordingly. we are witnessing? In order to gain some But I cannot afford to cower. clearer perspective, I invited some guests Look at some of the most famous over. figures in history: Martin Luther King, The four-horseman have joined us at Jr., Rosa Parks, Mahatma Gandhi, Nelthe table. Welcome guys! son Mandela: they couldn’t go knockConquest sits, pops open one of my ing on their leaders’ door and politely beers and puts his muddy feet on the ask for change, but they didn’t hide, table. either. They inspired change through War takes a seat next to his brother. their writings, and acts. They answered, He lights up a cigarette, and plays with even if the winds were howling and the the long string of dog tags wrapped smoke was rising, and the gun shots got around his bony neck; business has been nearer, they answered for history, and good lately. risked it all to open. that. door.

Famine grabs a chair and unwraps a I stop and look up to the four burrito. He takes a huge bite. He gloats at horsemen. Famine has stopped midThe Four Horsemen by Michele Nolli, the hungry look on my face. bite, War’s dog tags are silent in his produced by Fortune Killer Brand Death sits in the corner, bringing the loose, skeletal hand. Even Death is leaning four brothers together. He is slouched, face cast in shadow. forward in his chair. Looks like I touched a nerve.

Naomi Klein once asked, “History is knocking on your Naomi Klein also said, “It’s slowly dawning on a great door: will you answer?” many of us that no one is going to step in and fix this crisis; I can’t answer the door—I’ve barricaded it shut. Hurricane that if change is to take place it will only be because leaderforce winds tear at my boarded windows, flood waters fill my ship bubbled up from below.” basement, I smell the smoke in the air, and hear the gunshots And she’s right. in the distance. I’ve turned off the television. I’m tired of hearThe poor souls silenced by rising hurricane waters, raining “there’s nothing we can do.” ing bullets, hot flames, and tremors are So why am I here? If I have shut depending on us to speak up. We must myself in, why am I writing now? Because not forget them. We must give them a inspiration came to me the other day in the voice. We must make it loud. form of this quote: Each horseman stands and leaves “Then you remember, for an instant— silently, nodding to me as they pass. and for an instant fear flickers again, just The strong scent of cigarettes and above the surface calm. And you dismiss decay trails behind them. War’s smoke it. You’re good at pushing it back: under still smolders in the ash tray. I reach the bed, inside the darkened closet.” over, and stub it out.

Ah, Cecile Pineda. Bingo! I haven’t I have to go now… been processing, I’ve been hiding. I decided to ignore history and nail shut my Someone is knocking at my door. door.

Famine snickers as he unwraps a taco.

—Ruthie Van Winkle I shoot him a pointed glare.

I gave up because these four (I wave Bio: Ruthie Van Winkle, a mother at the horseman, they nod) convinced me and wife, is an aspiring writer who is to. These guys are good at their game. I’m currently a full time student at Arizona one miniscule, small-time writer. I don’t State University majoring in English.

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H S O L

B A S S O T I S E U

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9•

Sound Never Dies…

12

So physicists tell us.

The thread grows thin then thinner until the dog no longer tilts his head to catch it.

Every sound, every voice raised in joy ­—Aleida or anger in this house is still here.

The voices of the living the loudest.

The voices of the dead are here though subsumed — Leopoldo Méndez into the back rows of this burgeoning chorus.

My parents’, husband’s, son’s — Ester Hernández though gone, are here.

Calavera Asopa’o Carpenters, plumbers, painters their voices Para Jose Mendez-Negrete whether happy or sad Josie estaba en su cocina Partir uncaring or loving what matter now? preparando una sopita de camarones — Araceli García Y cuando llega el momento de partir They are all here Cuando llegó La Catrina hay que implorar la entereza in one colossal inaudible para llevarla al cielito lindo. y la alegría de soltar ese hilo del alma mingle. como el cometa que se lleva el viento I am the custodian of this concert hall— Josie le preguntó si podía en el instante menos esperado , my voice no less hostage no mas acabar las albondigas con los mismos colores del amanecer to the inexorable y La Catrina, interesada o del atardecer del día que nos despide laws of physics. en conseguir la receta, dijo, “¡Claro!” con un fuerte abrazo

—Marilyn Wallner para cerrar nuestro círculo Se pusieron a formar las albondigas e iluminar el estrecho que une con camarones, zanahoria, claras de huevo, nuestro mundo con el cielo, y un poco de harina. lo terrenal con lo eterno Con el aroma de la sopa y poder aligerar el alma en su casita tán linda, sin lamentar la pérdida del cuerpo. mezclado con música —Ana María González tropical, empiezaron a bailar.

Josie preparó dos platos.

Comieron y hablaron toda la noche.

Sin recordar su razón de venir, La Flaca, contenta entre sus huesos, Dio su adiós, bailando en la calle en la madrugada.

—Jo Reyes-Boitel

Un Ajiaco manjar

Vamos a hacer un ajiaco Entre tres o cuatro, entre tres o cuatro El uno pone la yuca, la calabaza y el otro el maniato, Y a mi me toca, a mi me toca, a mi me toca, a mi me toca, despues del ajiaco hecho ¡Poner la boca!

—Enrique Sánchez

— Ester Hernández

ROSOS QUE QUED AN Finally

Finally Death has come for the gossip.

Her vicious tongue would make us sit up.

Cutting people down was her joy.

Looking puzzled we’d say, “Oh boy.”

Her lies were famous.

Her legend-infamous.

No one was safe from her lashing.

No one so holy to avoid her bashing.

PARA MUJER ARTES Trepada en un gran camión La Calaca pensativa Buscaba la solución A su sola y triste vida.

Viendo pasar las calles A la Colorado llegó Y más rápido que aprisa A Casa de Cuentos se apeó.

But finally Death came, and it’s a real shame, We can’t see the gossip in hell.

—Terri Ybarra Bihl Haus Go Arts! student (of Victoria Klein)

He closed the gates to those fleeing violence and war But to send missiles and fighter jets, he opens the door

Para El Mero Pendejo Presidente Bailando con la flaca as she twirled him around his toupé hit the ground.

It landed flat on the floor and she laughed some more Jajajajajajaja!

¿Ya vez? preguntó la calaca: Asi como te tumbé tu toupé, te voy a ¡tumbar a ti! ¡Tu eres un mal hombre! ¡Jamás no vas a hablar mal de los Mexicanos! ¡Ya basta cabrón!

Entre platos y azulejos Canvas, brochas y pinturas La Huesuda emocionada Quería hacer de sus diabluras.

Su corazoncito calaco No resistió el ajetreo Que esas mujeres le dieron Con tan sabroso meneo.

En su tumba decorada Con tanto Arte de Mujeres La Tilica ahora descansa Recordando sus placeres.

—Adriana Netro

He rounded up folks crossing to the other bank Although willows fly freely and the grass grows lush and lank

She’s forced to repeat Beware round-mouthed monster when you arrive at Catrina’s gate every mean word she’d speak For she will bite the hand that grabs her and surely seal your fate. and swallow them, burning quite well.

—Nadine Saliba

Las cuencas vacías de sus ojos No dejaban de mirar golosas A las mujeres reunidas Muy lindas y ¡muy sabrosas!

En camión y bien contenta De regreso va al panteón, Muy tiznados sus huesitos De tanto y tanto revolcón.

The round-mouthed monster descended from his tower To rule over people with bolt and fire

But...but...

I’m no bad hombré!

I just wanna make America great again!

—Mary Agnes Rodríguez

—Tozani

Con eso la Santa Muerte respondío: Si tú no puedes con las mujeres tener respeto, ni dignidad, te vas a fijar, ¡que yo ya no aguanto tus pendejadas!

Muy prontó te voy a ponér en tu lugar, muy abajo en el fuego para eternidad!

—Victoria Garcia-Zapata

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

Sus tilicos pies la llevan Hasta el fondo de aquel lugar Donde un letrero allí dice A MujerArtes acabas de llegar.

We skirted her talk.

Avoided her walk.

The Round-mouthed Monster

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* community meetings *

Amnesty International #127 For info. call Arthur @ 210.213.5919.

People’s Power Coalition meets last Thursdays | 210.878.6751

Bexar Co. Green Party: Call 210.

471.1791 or bcgp@bexargreens.org

PFLAG, meets 1st Thurs. @ 7pm, University Presbyterian Church 300 Bushnell Ave. | 210.848.7407.

Celebration Circle meets Sun., 11am @ Say Sí, 1518 S. Alamo. Meditation: Weds @7:30pm, Friends Meeting House, 7052 Vandiver. 210.533.6767.

DIGNITY SA Mass, 5:30pm, Sun. @ St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, 1018 E. Grayson St | 210.340.2230 Adult Wellness Support Group of PRIDE Center meets 4th Mon., 7-9 pm @ Lions Field, 2809 Broadway. Call 210.213.5919.

Energía Mía: (512) 838-3351 Fuerza Unida, 710 New Laredo Hwy. www.lafuerzaunida.org | 210.927.2294 Habitat for Humanity meets 1st Tues. for volunteers, 6pm, HFHSA Office @ 311 Probandt.

LGBTQ LULAC Council #22198 meets 3rd Thursdays @ 6:45pm @ Luby’s on Main. E-mail: info@ lulac22198.org NOW SA Chapter meets 3rd Wed’s.

For time and location check FB/satx.now | 210. 802.9068 | nowsaareachapter@ gmail.com

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9•

Pax Christi, SA meets monthly on Saturdays. Call 210.460.8448

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Parents of Murdered Children, meets 2nd Mondays @ Balcones Heights Community Ctr, 107 Glenarm | www. pomcsanantonio.org.

Rape Crisis Center, 4606 Centerview Suite 200, Hotline: 210.349.7273 | 210.521.7273 Email:sschwab@ rapecrisis.com The Religious Society of Friends meets Sunday @10am @ The Friends Meeting House, 7052 N. Vandiver. | 210.945.8456.

S.A. Gender Association meets 1st & 3rd Thursday, 6-9pm @ 611 E. Myrtle, Metropolitan Community Church.

SA AIDS Fdn 818 E. Grayson St. offers free Syphilis & HIV testing | 210.225.4715 | www.txsaaf.org.

Give to the Esperanza Peace & Justice Center at your workplace, today! Use the appropriate code: Combined Federal Campaign (Gov’t/military) code: 77773 City of San Antonio: 8022 Bexar County: 8022

SA Women Will March: www. sawomenwillmarch.org|(830) 488-7493 SGI-USA LGBT Buddhists meet 2nd Sat. at 10am @ 7142 San Pedro Ave., Ste 117 | 210.653.7755.

Shambhala Buddhist Meditation Tues. 7pm & Sun. 9:30am 257 E. Hildebrand Ave. | 210.222.9303.

Proyecto Hospitalidad Liturgy meets Thurs. 7pm, 325 Courtland.

S.N.A.P. (Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests). Contact Barbara at 210.725.8329.

Metropolitan Community Church services & Sunday school @10:30am, 611 East Myrtle. Call 210.472.3597

Voice for Animals: 210.737.3138 or www.voiceforanimals.org

Overeaters Anonymous meets MWF in Spanish & daily in English | www. oasanantonio.org | 210.492.5400.

The United Way Combined Federal Campaign is Here!

SA’s LGBTQA Youth meets Tues., 6:30pm at Univ. Presby. Church, 300 Bushnell Ave. | www.fiesta-youth.org

City/County I.S.D.s: 8022 State of Texas Employee Charitable Campaign: 413013 ¡Todos Somos Esperanza!

For info: call 210.228.0201 or email: esperanza@ esperanzacenter.org

Start your 2016/2017 tax-deductible donations to Esperanza today!

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Notas Y Más September 2017 November,

Centro Cultural Aztlán celebrates Día de los Muertos with an exhibit of Altares y Ofrendas opening Wednesday, November 2nd, 6-10pm. It can be viewed 9am-5pm, M-F until Nov. 10th. Suggested admission: $3. Kids and students are free. See: http:// www.centroaztlan.org Viva Mi Cultura: Celebrando Día de los Muertos, a lecture on the Day of the Dead tradition with music and dance takes place November 2nd at the Guadalupe Theater at 10am. Admission $5, free for school groups that call 210.271.3151 to reserve seats. See: www.guadalupeculturalarts.org Anjua SA and CCDO invites you and your family to attend the 9th annual Diwali Celebration at La Villita on November

Mas Huesitos. . .

4th, 5pm to 11pm. The Festival of Lights celebrates Indian culture and traditions symbolizing the victory of good over evil..

Visit www.diwalisa.com. Free.

Celebrate San Antonio’s 10th annual Luminaria Contemporary Arts Festival!

The free after-dark festival will be Friday, November 10th, from 7 PM to Midnight in the Hemisfair district. Ticketed events are available for Saturday, November 11th.

See http://luminariasa.org/ for details.

Women veterans are invited to attend a special Veterans Day event honoring women who have served in the military.

Organized by Friends of the Las Palmas Branch Library, it will be held at Progreso Hall, 1306 Guadalupe St. on Wednesday,

November 8, 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. Keynote speaker will be Brigadier General Heather Pringle, Commander of Joint Base San Antonio. Free and open to all. For more, call 210.222.2023.

Gemini Ink Viva Tacoland will feature Charles Darnell, Jim LaVilla-Havelin, and Jo Reyes-Boitel on Friday, November 10th from 6:30-8:30pm at 103 W. Grayson with an open mic afterwards. For more on upcoming events see: geminiink.org San Antonio author, Elizabeth Rodríguez, has a new book out, Get Wedding Ready, a guide to Staying HEALTHY and SANE Before Tying the Knot. Check her site at: www.elizabethrodriguezwellness. com Available on Amazon.com

Photo by Ana María González

El Fin del Trump Por fin descansa la palomita Twitter al saber que el péor suscritor, el despiadado Donald Trump, ha sido arrastrado para el Infierno por el Diablo cuernudo que disfruta al ver que le cambia toda la piel al color de la cara! Naranja y roja!

El Mundo ahora está lleno de Paz y harmonía y el Twitter con el mas favorable post: Hillary Clinton now in her due place as President of the USA! —Janie Cepeda

Every year on the day of the dead I take my mother and we have our fingernails painted so we can reach toward the celebrating dead with color.

We tie charms to the edges of our clothes because the dead must hear us coming as we go down the “street of the lost” and around the “corner of the damned” where there is the smell of sacrifice and burning feathers.

We roll dreams into our hair one dream apiece for each lost soul.

The marigold crowns we wear drop their petals sending out such a rich scent that the dead souls become caught in that scent like bees to honey.

The Goddess of the Dead, Mictēcacihuātl, has swallowed the Stars so we carry light in our hands.

The dead wait for us lying curled on their sides to hear our footsteps dancing over the ground toward them.

It is the love for them that coats our skin.

They are the ones that went before and we are the ones that will come after.

—Jeanie Sanders

—Carmen Alarcón

—Yescka

Volveremos a nacer

Si que la guerra no tiene sentido, asesinan a diario mujeres y niños.

Sedosos por sangre y una nueva conquista, el rinche mata ¡sólo por su avaricia!

“Hay mis hijos, dónde están mis hijos!,” —se escucha llorar La Catrina.

Y entonces despiertan los niños inmortalizados como calaveras a jugar y correr por el nuevo camposanto, “Ahora sí que la regaron!

Que no sabían los rinches que aún enterrados debajo los escombros, volveremos a nacer!”

—Luissana Santibanez

LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

Waiting on the Dead

Brief news items on upcoming community events.

Send items for Notas y Más to: lavoz@esperanzacenter.org or mail to: 922 San Pedro, San Antonio, TX 78212.

The deadline is the 8th of each month.

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LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2017 Vol. 30 Issue 9

G r u p o Tay e r i n Co n ce r t

Noche Azul

@ E s p e ra n z a

Sat. Nov. 4 @ 7pm • $7—$10 sliding scale

November 11 & December 16 música de corrido, danzón , mazurca , chotis, huapango, polka, redova y más 922 San Pedro Ave. SA TX • Call 210.228.0201 for tickets and more info

Esperanza’s Annual

¡Día de los muertos!

8pm • Doors open at 7pm • $7 más o menos Esperanza @ 922 San Pedro Ave. Call 210.228.0201 for more info

Esperanza Peace & Justice Center

922 San Pedro San Antonio TX 78212 210.228.0201 • www.esperanzacenter.org

Non-Profit Org. US Postage PAID San Antonio, TX Permit #332

Haven’t opened La Voz in a while? Prefer to read it online? Wrong address?

TO CANCEL A SUBSCRIPTION EMAIL lavoz@esperanzacenter.org CALL: 210.228.0201

Nov. 1st 2017 • 4 PM -10:30 PM Rinconcito de Esperanza, 816 S. Colorado, SA TX 78207 Visit our beautiful ofrendas and get ready to tirar chancla when you hear the great musical line-up!

4:30 to 5:00pm | El Tallercito de Son SATX 5:00 to 5:30pm | Conjunto Heritage Taller 5:30 to 6:15pm | Barrio procession w/instruments 6:15 to 7:00pm | Las Tesoros de San Antonio 7:00 to 7:30pm | Performance by Cristal González 7:30 to 7:45pm | Calavera readings 7:45 to 8:15pm | Azul Barrientos of Noche Azul 8:15 to 9:15pm | Grupo Tayer de Monterrey, MX 9:15 to 10:15pm | Los Texmaniacs y Flaco Jimenez!

28th Annual Interational

Mercado de Paz • Peace Market 2017 @ Esperanza, 922 San Pedro Friday & Saturday, Nov. 24 & 25, 2017 • 10am—6pm Sunday, Nov. 26, 2017 • 12pm—6pm

— Angélica M. Gómez

Now 3 Days!

Isabel & Enrique Sánchez family ofrenda

Live música, handmade art & gifts, food, local & international artisans & hourly raffles