CHIAPAS 1994, #2: 'Christmas in Cuxulja', journalism; "Chiapas Is Everywhere", a song with Myles Boisen of the Coaxers
On the ground during Zapatistas' Relmampago in December 1994
My prior Post in this Stands the Human Being Stack was a poem, ‘The People by the Highway’; and a review of JOHN ROSS’ splendid book about Zapatistas’ battling take-over of Mexico’s southernmost State, Chiapas, in January 1994, and the many good reasons for that indigena uprising, John’s uniquely revealing book titled Rebellion from the Roots; and a song, “Wish For Peace”, with ALEX DE GRASSI and HAMID DRAKE at the SPACE Theater in Ukiah California, April of 2014
Today again dips into my 2002 book, Flares, for its contents. ‘Christmas in Cuxulja’ is my journalism from 12 days in Chiapas, December 16 to 27. “Chiapas Is Everywhere”, the song recorded with MYLES in his and JOSH HELLER’s Guerilla Euphonics the next Spring (one afternoon that Spring Myles and put music to the lyrics, as I recall) is my take on the beautiful liveliness of natives in San Cristobal, Comitan, Ocosingo, and elsewhere in Chicago.
Stamped forever in my mind, running there like an indelible video, is memory of short, stout, nimble handlers of 60-kilogram gunny-sacks of RICE, balanced on one shoulder, as they TROTTED along the concrete loading-dock of San Cristobal’s downtown market and stacked those sacks onto bed of our CONPAZ (WITH PEACE) pick-up truck. CONPAZ anticipated for several days that Mexico’s Armed Forces might invade San Cristobal and come directly to addresses of Zapatista allies such as CONPAZ.
Christmas in Cuxulja
December 17, 1994
On the Saturday night one week before Christmas Eve of 1994, a party at Alma’s and Meno’s house in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, brings together workers of CONPAZ.
CONPAZ, as its name implies, combines several non-governmental organizations that work for peace in Mexico.
1994 was a busy year for CONPAZ. Since the sweep down from mountains into towns of Chiapas by guerrilla known as Zapatistas in early January of this year, two Armies have faced each other in Mexico’s southernmost State. Some 60,000 Federal troops now surround the Emiliano Zapata Army of National Liberation, the EZLN. The Zapatistas’ number of armed, indigenous fighters is estimated between 3,000 and 15,000. The two Armies’ formal stand-off looms in the Mexican public’s consciousness.
Using Volkswagen Beetles and vans, CONPAZ serves clinics inside and outside the EZLN’s zone of mountainous jungle. It also reaches out to the world through groups that serve as watch-guard for human rights.
Children add to laughter at the Christmastime party. Couples sit their babies on the floor before the fireplace. The babies then wobble with some innate rhythm. Three of the children are girls who look to be about eight years old. They appear to be daughters of Guatmalan refugees. In the courtyard the oldest child who is let flail with a brood-handle at the Colorful Pinata smashes that treasures-laden target into shards. Cries of triumph, cries of jubilation! Children swarm after the spilled candy.
Inside, gifts are handed out to adults. Joaquim, the chosen M. C., leans on a rail above the living-room and reads the notes that attach to presents. Some are risqué, referring to esposa or esposo, and all engender laughter. One note is unusually lengthy.
"Un manifesto!" one of the gathering declares.
"Por Marcos?" another of them asks.
Chuckles roll from our rough semi-circle. Subcomandante Marcos is the EZLN'S main spokesperson and first identified Ladino leader. The “Sub” FAXes 'Communiques' from the 'mountains of southeastern Mexico' that sometimes extend to 8 pages. Often ironic and disgressive, though steadfast in repeating principles of 'Liberty! Justice! Democracy!', Marcos' communiques read like the issue of a mind trained for Seminary.
A guitar is passed round in the Saturday-night house-party. Meno sings an indigena song from his native Michoucan. Everyone Mexican joins in singing national favorites that they learned as schoolchildren. Bottles of wines and rum are opened. The mood is warm, full of chiste (joking), and resolutely removed from surrounding threats that violence may invade San Cristobal.
December 19
By Monday, two days later, CONPAZ expects civil war to break out. That evening Javier, Alejandro and I wait to load supplies at rear of the El Mayorero supermercado.
The supermercado sits opposite the public market along San Cristobal's main bisecting street, the stone-paved Avenida General Utrilla. During the day ranks of chock-a-block stands in the openÚ-air market sell oranges, apples, potatoes and cakes along with cassettes and Christmas ornaments. We wait by the El Mayorero loading-dock for clerks to complete CONPAZ's order. Since the preceding night the EZLN has shown its widespread presence in Chiapas. Throughout Monday reports of ski-masked troops' blockading roads and entering towns outside their previous 'Zone' have come over CONPAZ's shortwave radio. Communiques signed by Marcos announce a Zapatista 'relampago ' (blitzrieg) and the capture or 'rebellion' of 38 of the State's 112 muncipios. Outside the CONPAZ house along the Calle Chiapa de Corzo cars of Police and other surveillance have watched us. Javier, Alejandro and I are to bring back goods for independent survival: sacks of rice and sugar, boxes of candles and batteries.
As we wait a 6-wheeler truck is unloaded of sacks of sugar at the dock. The sacks weigh 50 kilograms--125 pounds--each. Their bearers are El Mayorero employees, all indigena and shorter than 5' 6".
Their torsos like wedges, they handle the sacks expertly. One inside the container throws a sack onto another's shoulder. Away the latter trots, no hand to his sack. The four bearers laugh and sigh as they run. Their overseer is an orange-haired mestizo, his belly rounded out as if it contains a small pig.
That night the overseer watches with disdain on a corner of San Cristobal's central plaza, the Zocalo, by the Cathederal de las Casas. Alma, Meno, a woman from Jalisco, and I are among the crowd filing toward the Cathedral.
Bishop Samuel Ruiz Garcia is to declare his fast for peace this night. The Bishop, 70 years of age and diabetic, has for decades championed the rights of indigena in Chiapas. The previous week Mexico's new President, Benjamin Zedillo Ponce de Leon, candidate from the only Party that has won the Presidency in Mexico's 77 years as a Republic, the PRI (Institutional Revolutionary Party), named a Committee for Dialogue and Mediation~ in Chiapas. Composed of politicians from Mexico's top three Parties, Zedillo’s group meant to supplant the National Committee for Mediation that was already convening and that included the 'Leftist' Bishop Ruiz.
Bishop Ruiz is compact and upright as a figure by Diego Velazquez. He swings one arm emphatically toward close of his speech in the Cathedral. He says that his fast will last till "all actors are moved to roads of understanding." By these "roads" he means that talks between the federal Government and EZLN must resume, and that the Armies in confrontation must back away.
Later on Monday night we at CONPAZ watch national news air from giant Televisa and secondary Networks. Network accounts never utter the words "EZLN" or "Zapatista." We see truckloads of ski-masked troops commandeer roads and jog into towns. We then hear spokesmen say only that "armed campesinos" Hhave entered "one" or "two" Municipios.
Offical Mexico runs with surreal denial, I have come to think by this night, my fourth in Chiapas.
Two murders of the highest profile haunt the Zedillo government. The greater shock came in March 1994, three months after the Zapatistas rose up. PRI Presidential candidate Luis Donaldo Colosio was shot by a gunman while campaigning in Tijuana. Six months afterward, on September 30, another gunman killed the ruling Party's Chairman, Samuel Massieu, in Mexico City. Massieu's brother Mario claims to hold "over 1000 pages" of evidence that he asserts will incriminate PRI peers in Samuel's death.
At the same time, the States that neighbor Chiapas on Mexico's Gulf Coast, Tabasco and Vera Cruz, are snarled by protests of fraud in the national election of August 21. All three States are crucial to trade of oil, Mexico's major export. Simultaneous with the strikes in them are guerrilla buildups in mountainous regions of the States of Guerrero, home to Acapulco, and Chiuahua, whose vastness borders the Rio Grande from New Mexico to Big Bend, Texas.
Across Mexico, too, campesinos (small farmers) are taking over land in defiance of President Carlos Salinas de Gortari's 1992 gutting of the Mexican Constitution's Article 27. For more than 70 years Article 27 has been the foundation of the Mexican Revolution's "agrarian reform. " It promises every peasant at least Part of an ejido (an ejido being ‘the communal farmland of a village, usually assigned in small parcels to the villagers to be farmed under a federally supported system of communal land tenure). that part traditionally devoted to the multi-crop sustenance of the milpa (‘A conventional milpa includes maize (Zea mays), also known as corn, beans (e.g. Phaseolus species) and squash (e.g. Cucurbita species), as well as many useful herbs including chillies (Capsicum species’).
Salinas' revision stopped this allotment, opening common land to 'mercantile speculation.' Marcos has called it the "determining factor" for the Zapatistas' rebellion.
December 21
Wednesday afternoon, December 21st, I'm about 80 kilometers east of San Cristobal. The countryside is more tropical, banana plants below pino trees, greens gorgeous around brilliant flowers. I've been turned back at a Mexican Army checkpoint between the municipios of Cuxulja and Altimirano. I watch three Mexcian Army Tanks and three Armored Personnel Carriers roll up from the village of Cuxuljaonto Mexico’s highway 186. The military vehicles are heading away from Altamirano and northern edges of what was the fixed Zapatista zone. Their file climbs east toward San Cristobal on 186, the inter-State two-lane that also connects ranchers to Ocosingo in the west and tourists to Mayan pyramids at Palenque farther north.
The tanks and APCs are manned by smooth- skinned young indigena . During the fighting of the prior January the EZLN recorded capture of 1,266 kilograms of dynamite along with 10,000 TNT detonators. One charge ahead, one charge behind, I think, and these Tanks and APCs would be immobile.
December 23
On Friday afternoon, the 23rd, I ride on the bus from Chiapas' state capital, Tuxtla Gutierrez, to Comitan, the southernmost large municipio along highway 190, the Pan-American Highway, toward Guatamala. My seatmate is a young woman named Karina. Karina grew up in Comitan. Since completing secretarial school she's worked two years for Bancomer in Vera Cruz. Karina prefers classical music. Of it, Tchaikovsky is her favorite compositor. Karina gets out of our taxi from the bus-station and hugs her mother, her child sister, and her father inside their store on one corner of a gray earthen road off of the Pan-American Highway.
Noontime the next day, Karina and I go for café beside Comitan's centro. Karina's slash of lipstick highlights her smile, her aquiline profile and her mocha complexion. Her 3-year-old nephew stays with us after her mother departs.
I ask Karina if she voted in the National Election of the past August. Yes, she says.
"PRI or PRD?"
"PAN," Katrina answers.
PAN, the National Action Party, is to the Right of the PRI and far to the Right of the PRD in its platform. While PAN welcomes the "collaboration" of foreign corporations in Mexico, it also claims a ferocious patriotism. Its Presidential and legislative candidates were recorded the second-most votes in Election four months earlier.
"PAN? Porque ?"
"Mi familia PAN," Karina answers.
Her eyes shift toward the Parque in Comitan’s centro. One truckload of young Federal soldados stand alongside the Parque. Karina no longer smiles toward me. I go to pay the check. Inside, an Army at one table officer opens his newspaper over his Cappucino. The Diario de Chiapas displays beneath its front-page headline EZLN guerrilla entering the town of La Independencia.
Staff of the cafe have put on the Tracy Chapman CD that leads with "Talkin' About A Revolution." The officer must hear this song as he reads.
December 24
The next evening, Christmas Eve, I'm in Ocosingo. over 100 kilometers northeast from Comitan and into the heart of Chiapas' cattle-ranching. Shoe-shine boys (boleros )polish the boots of vaqueros (cowboys).
Ocosingo is not so much for tourists. Ocosingo is a place where property-owners' "interests" and indigena resistance conflict. Ocosingo tells the story of why a war of desperation could occur in Chiapas.
In 1960 Ocosingo's municipality counted 12,000 people. By 1990 its population exceeded 250,000. The 'Doorway to the Lacandon Jungle' attracted logging as well as cattle. Dispossessed farmers (campesinos) came to Ocosingo along with those seeking fortunes or jobs.
Generations earlier, author B. Traven had portrayed the combustible proletariat in this jungle. Between World Wars, Indians from the States of Oaxaca and Vera Cruz as well as mestizos from Guerrero and Michoucan wanted a new place for their patch of land--their milpa.
After 1992 the number of these seekers increased with Salinas' gutting of Article 27. Adding to Mayan tribes here (Tzeltal, Tzotil, Tojolabal or Chol often a native's only language) were Zoques from the north, and Mames and Kanojobales from Guatemala. The Mames and Kanojobales had fled slaughter by their Government’s Military and para-military/.
Property-owners united against the Indian influx. Ranchers recruited Police into regional Guardia Blancas and formed a Citizens' Defense Committee. This C.D.C. of Ocosingo was later shown to be plotting the assassinations of a priest, a nun and Bishop Samuel Ruiz.
Campesino organizations fought back by kidnapping Police and blockading roads around Ocosingo. On April 10, 1992, 4000 farmers and their allies met at the office of the National Independent Alliance of Campesinos--Emiliano Zapata (known as the ANCIEZ for its acronym en Espanol).
Ocosingo's municipal President fled before the farmers' gathering. They had a festiva in his absence. They sang native and patriotic songs—somethingThey danced. They spoke of their heritage and of the struggle of the army led by Emiliano Zapata to recover land for the peon.
In April of 1993--one month before the EZLN emerged undeniably to( the Mexican military--the ANCIEZ disappeared from public view.
In that next month--on May 22, 1993--a firefight between Federal and Zapatista troops in the mountains of Corralchen killed one Federal soldier. Three days of skirmishes followed. The Mexican Army discovered a training-camp where guns, ammunition and 'EZLN 5th Regiment' shirts were stored. It also found a mockup of the Ocosingo municipal palace that was exact unto the names of bordering street-signs.
The Government in Mexico City, however, suppressed evidence of any guerrilla in Chiapas, much less an 'EZLN 5th Regiment'. The news might have upset passage of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) that Presidents Salinas and Clinton were then ballyhooing.
Seven months later--on the day that NAFTA took effect--the EZLN descended in multiple formations from the mountains into Muncipios of Chiapas.
The Battle in Ocosingo was bloodiest of the 12-day shooting-war that started on January 1, 1994. By afternoon of that New Year's Day, 300 Zapatista troops, firing volley after volley, forced surrender of Ocosingo's Municipal palace by Police and state-security Troops.
On January 2, four Mexican Army batallions from Tabasco, their total two thousand men, arrived. Helped by strafing from U.S.-made HUEY helicopters and Swiss-made P-7 Pilatus fighter-planes, the Mexican Army trapped Zapatistas among booths in Ocosingo's lowland mercado … Booths there as chock-a-block as they are in San Cristobal. Nine bodies were found in sewers under the mercado . Fighting continued through January 4, house to house in the barrio of San Sebastian. The Army's automatic-weapon barrages were mostly from M-16s. The EZLN's snipers--obligatorily stationary to reduce noncombatant deaths--mostly shot 22s. Marcos said 40 Zapatistas died in four days at Ocosingo; Major Rolando, who fought there while Marcos and troops attacked an Army base at Rancho Nuevo, said 22 died. State forces' dead were said to be at least as many.
Civilian casualties, however, were highest. Including 11 who were buried at the Coplamar clinic after Army troops burst into the hospital in search of wounded Zapatistas, 77 civilian bodies were exhumed or shipped from Ocosingo.
Father Jorge Trejo, one of four priests in the San Jacinto de Polonia parish, his Church strafed on January 3, told John Ross, author of Rebellion from the Roots, that 150 noncombatants had died in the January 1994 fighting..
This Christmas Eve the centro is tranquil. Nearby the boleros Mayan women sell woven bracelets. Single men pass with one gift in hand, that gift wrapped in colorful paper. Indians in jeans and Western shirts stroll beside islanding trees, relax in their boots on benches of wood and curving iron. As elsewhere in Chiapas, BULLS is the favorite NBA identification on caps. A white pickup beside the portals of shuttered restaurants is marked with Halcon Blanco (White Falcon) on its hood. A good bet is that the white truck belongs to ranchers’ paramilitary.
The same forces for conflict remain, I--the only gringo in town--think. I also think that the calm of now is testament to some strength from the past that that endures to deal with the present.
December 25
On Christmas Day I go by way of Highway 186 to Cuxulja, 18 kilometers west, returning toward San Cristobal. This village of about 1000 people was one of the municipios 'in rebellion' that the EZLN's December 19 communique renamed.
Honoring the heroic fighters that it provided to the indigena’s struggle, Cuxulja's revolutionary name is Municipio Che Guevara .
Cuxulja also is quiet. Mists lift off the forest-green ridges that wave southward, toward Altamirano and the defined Zapatistaà zone.
Down a sloping road that’s scarcely two lanes wide, I stop at a store that offers Refrescos next to its Fanta and Coca Cola signs. No coffee is advertised. I ask where some might be bought. The storeowner consults with his partner. Minutes afterward she brings me a steaming cup, an infant slung across her back. "Cuanto ?" I ask.
"Nada. Solo agua ," the woman replies.
Generosity from her and her partner! A cup of coffee typically cost 3 Pesos in San Cristobal. And three Pesos is about 1/2 of a typical laborer's wages for a day's work in Chiapas.
Later in this afternoon of Christmas Day, I walk back up the road through Cuxulja.
Across 186, the road to Ocosingo or San Cristobal, thirty or so people wait for transport on steps of a closed store. Mostly men and boys, several carrying sheathed machetes, they observe a woman sway on her pump-heels in front of them.
The woman is especially short. Her skirt and jacketare dark and dust-patched. A swollen bruise is red-skinned on her forehead. Her drifting eyes fix on me, again the only gringo, as I approach.
I sit on the store-steps with my two shoulder-bags at my feet. The woman in pumps walks over to me.
"Que tal ?" she asks.
"Bueno. Buenas tardes." I’m as sociable as my Spanish is lacking.
"Eh?” The very short woman in pumps says. “Eh?” she repeats “Es gringo." she says decisively.
Laughter comes from behind and beside us. "Es gringo?" she asks for confirmation.
"Si. Es Americano. "
She grips my wrist. Alcohol is pungent in her breath. I see how fresh is the red-skinned bruise to her forehead. "Gringo, ustedes provocarle a uno ir para con yo," she says.
That is: “Gringo, you want to go with me?” Something like that.
Laughter is larger and sharper behind and beside us. I shake my head. I see dirt, too, where her skin is split within the bruise to her forehead..
She speaks with more force, her statement no question."Gringo, ustedes provocarle a uno ir para con yo,"
She also squeezes my wrist. Again I shake my head.
"Porque?" she asks. "Porque aqui?"
"Oh, because Cuxulja es famoso por its revolutionarios ."
"Zapatista? Zapatista revoltionarios ?"Her looks indignant even as she wobbles backward in her pumps.
"Si. Yes, " I say.
"Pinché Zapatistas! Pinché Zapatistas! “ She curses them. “Malo por todos!"
Laughter behind and beside us is still mild. "Ay, la puta ," someone says to her in admonition.
— — — — —
The long-distance bus that pulls into the store’s lot from the east--from Ocosingo along 186-- is the size and shape of those that shuttle to Hotels at major Airports in North and South America.
Transportes Publicos de Pasajeros "YAXNICHIL" is scripted on its side. The ten seats of this bus would comfortably hold twenty-five people. Today more than fifty ride. The driver keeps the drunken woman off.
We’re jammed knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder. Bags and babies crowd the aisle. Diesel smells through the floor. Hues of indigena cloths--red, pink, magenta, crimson, ... blue, azul, cerul, ...green, lime, ...--multiple as centuries of rainbow dreams --array beside vaquero hats.
A hidden baby squalls--"Maw! Maw!" He's lifted from underfoot when I offer his mother my seat. He's too old for her breast. His face is blotched and his hair is in patches, too.
This is it, I think. These people endure such aggravation every day.
— — — — —
Almost three years earlier another group of peasants made slow progress. They walked the 1100 or so kilometers from Chiapas to Mexico City. The group's name was their action, "Xi'nich"--"march of the ants."
They protested their loss of land from the "opening" of Article 27 and from seizures of property for the Government's 'Mundo Maya' project (which envisions a multi-day tour of the native culture's famous pyramids or "ruins"). Their journey took weeks. Officials received them in the capital. It was 1992, the 500th-anniversary year of Europeans' 'Discovery' of the Americas, a 'Conquest' that Natives countered with their own Quincentennial of 'Popular Resistance' throughou“t the Western Hemisphere.
The Indians received more promises, but no more land than when they'd set out, and they walked home.
The bus stops about an hour west of Cuxulja. Two indigena men step on. They wedge into the aisle by the seat that the Marlboro-capped conductor has me and my bags half-occupy. They look to be no older than 30, but their cheekbones are weathered sharply and their eyes are dark like curtains. Their knapsacks could hold weapons, radio, and ski-masks, I think. They get off between towns.
At the checkpoint nearby the Rancho Nueveo base--from whose armory the EZLN captured much of its automatic weapons in that Battle of the prior January--a young soldado waves for us to pass.
"Vale?" asks the conductor. Alright?
"Si," the soldier answers.
Everyone on this bus could be Zapatista, I think. And every indigena in Mexico--over 16 million among a population of about 100 million--must be tempted or stirred by Zapatista coñmmuniques.
Chiapas itself is ideal for guerrilla, I think. Its mountains and jungle, its narrow means of access, its changeable weather, and above all its base of 'masses' outside any main town, favor the indigenous fighter. As in Vietnam, every native would be a "gook." An intruder's servant by day might betray him or her at night.
"In order to wipe out the Zapatisita Army of National Liberation, they will have to wipe this piece of territory from the face of the earth," the spokesperson named Marcos told Mexico's leading political weekly, Proceso (circulation 100,000), last August.
So devastating a campaign is unlikely. Through its hydroelectric dams and oil wells, Chiapas fills almost half of Mexico's needs for energy. It produces 92,000 barrels of oil per day. It serves up 28% of Mexico's supply of meat. Further, campaigns of "scorched-earth" or protracted warfare in Chiapas would ignite mass protests and myriad sabotage across Mexico.
From Chihuahua, Coalhua and Sonora among the northern States--to Zacatecas, Jalisco Michoucan and Guerrero in the center--to Oaxaca, Vera Cruz and Tabasco in the south, the Federal Government and foreign investors would face millions of indignant indigena and those otherwise left out of Mexico's latest 'Economic Miracle.' The 'neoliberal Dream' that embraces NAFTA, handed by President Salinas to the successor whom he chose after Colosio's assassination, Benjamin Zedillo, is expected to put more than a million Mexicans out of work by the end of 1995.
On the "YAXNICHIL" bus I recall a letter that åMarcos sent to the new President, Zedillo, on the previous Monday, December 19.
'It is my duty to inform you that you have an indigenous rebellion in the southeast of Mexico,' the letter from ‘the Sup’ begins. It goes on to state that this conflict won't be lessened by the defamation of "Marcos" in Mexican media. ' "Marcos" doesn't exist,’ the letter says. ‘He was born dead on the 1st of January.' Major Rolando, born in the high canyons of the Lacandon jungle, has said: "We are all Marcos."
Later on Sunday, December 25
By Sunday, this Christmas Day the peso has fallen almost 50% against the U. S. dollar. Loss to foreign investors on the Bolsa, Mexico's stock exchange, is pegged at $8 to $10 billion. The infusion of capital needed to bring 'stability' to Mexico's economy is estimated at $15 to $20 billion, much of it expected to come from the U. S. Government and from private finance.
As in the last great 'bail-out' of Mexico, circa 1983, these loans will be structured for repayment with interest. They'll also be structured to reimburse speculating financiers first, costing the publics of both Mexico and the U. S.
But Mexico’s Bolsa seems to me far from this "YAXNICHIL" bus. Stock Markets seem far from the patriotic and rebellious songs--often the same--that are warmly voiced in Chiapas and throughout Mexico.
This bus must go on, repeating its routes and loads every day, I think. And every day it can bring nothing better, as it is. Bearers of loads will be asked only to endure more, I think, till they at last can sigh and bear no more.
One indigena from Cuxulja had shrugged to me, that afternoon. "Where else do we have to go?” he said. “This is my only home."
“Chiapas Is Everywhere” for 2024
MYLES BOISEN Guitar, Midi-Guitar, Bass, Keyboards
DON PAUL, Hand-Drum, Other Percussion, Keyboards
“The people from the Hills / Gonna take you through”
Rich ‘a go Open Doors Always knock down the poor Discos, Bonds off Satellites Patterns like butterflies Fly from our outer lights Respect the old, respect the earth Everything comes from somewhere Every thing comes from somewhere They’re comin’ for you, they’re comin’ for you The people from the hills are comin’ for you The lit’l people from the hills gonna take you through “Little people” from their hills gonna take you through Chiapas is everywhere The Mayan is everywhere.
Written December 1995. Recorded March 1995.
From the Album Fat Snake’s Tongue Has Got Talking Heads that includes several Tracks by the Coaxers quartet of Myles, DHYANI DHARMA MAS Guitars and TOM SCANDURA Drums-Set. We all play Percussion on this Album.