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3 Postscripts 3 VI.- THE NONCONFORMIST

3 Postscripts 3

VI.- THE NONCONFORMIST

At first, it snorted irritably. His fur bristled like a sullen and rebellious cat, disdainful of boxes and pyramids. Just like that, without even a warning.

Then, for those who don’t know, a kind of tender caress. Then the claw strikes grew in number and force. Later, a whirlwind of discontent. Soon, people were running all over the place. The fury of the wind was joined by rain, as if to tell the gale that it shared its rage. It threw men and leaves against the walls of the shacks, and, I swear, the foundations of the concrete temple creaked.

Wind and rain. Nowhere to turn. Better to remain in the middle of the fury than risk the guillotine-like flight of the torn-off roof sheets, as if defying the modest humility of the now-cleaned warehouses, with their paint and renovated walls.

But, strangely enough, the storm spared the periphery and concentrated in the center, where the skeleton of a pyramid rose a few meters from the gravel.

As if to say, «No pyramids here.»

And the sails that simulated the pyramid’s walls billowed with that mixture of wings and sails that at times resembled a wandering ship and at times a lost aircraft, with no land in sight, only the certainty that below remained the ground, waiting leisurely, as if to say, «just here.»

We tried to talk to him, but, between the rain and the gales, we barely managed to get it to subside enough for the companions who had climbed to the top to place the money sign to come down. Immediately, a strong, concentrated gust of wind tore the sails off, and the sail flew up the mountain.

“That’s how ghosts are born,” I thought.

We began to explain hurriedly that it wasn’t meant to remain as it was, but rather as an explanation of politics. To reveal, then. Nothing to do with false or true gods. That, in any case, it would be destroyed. Not just that one, but all the pyramids. Yes, in the whole and in the parts. Yes, in every corner of the planet.

It subsided little by little, as if doubting our commitment.

It left then, but not quickly, as if to say, “If human beings don’t comply, we, the parts of the first mother, will comply.”

-*-

The SubMoy checked the construction and declared: “It won’t fall easily.”

A compa tested the structure, making a notch in one of the crossbeams with his machete. He only muttered: «It’s going to fall, no question about it. It might take a while, but it will fall.»

«The hardest part will be the central column; it’s very solid,» he added, «we’ll have to put a lot of strength, a lot of effort, and not just a few, but many.»

«In other words: collectively and organized,» declared a young painter. We all laughed, although still frightened by that angry wind that came from who knows where.

«That post is well rooted. Even if they knock it down, it will sprout. We have to pull it out down to the roots,» remarked an elderly woman, standing with her hands on her hips in front of the wooden structure, as if defying it.

“It’s the soul of the system,” a compañera responded to a girl’s question about the central mast, “private property of land, machines, houses, people, nature, dreams and nightmares, the skies and the seas, what is seen and what is unseen, the world itself. It’s embedded not only in the foundation of the system, but also in our heads, in our hearts, and in our history.”

-*-

“But how many are there coming?” they asked me.

“A good many,” I replied.

“But are they bringing the will to fight?” they insisted.

“Who knows,” I said to myself, “as Sub-Moy says: it remains to be seen.”

“Hey, Captain, is that thing going to be there forever?” a miliciana asked me.

“No, as if. It’s for the Zapatista talk. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think a soccer team is coming, and well, that thing is in front of one of the goals, where our mess hall is. So, there won’t be a game or food. The soccer game, well, no problem, but the food, well…”

The afternoon began to sprout from the trees. For an instant, the moon, the sun, the rain, and the wind coincided, appearing before the mountain.

-*-

Is that going to be there forever?

Well, no, that’s what we’re fighting for. It may take a while, but then there will be more of us.

And in the wind, the warning that the rain engraved in the earth continued:

«If human beings don’t comply, we, the parts of the first mother, will comply. The pyramid will fall.»

-*-

Not far away in calendars and geographies, Palestine remained a tear of blood on the indifferent faces of the world’s governments.

From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast.

The Captain.
Mexico, July 2025.

Images of preparations for the «Meeting of Resistances and Rebellions: Some Parts of the Whole» in August 2025, Zapatista Tercios Compas
Audio: Voice and words of Eduardo Galeano, excerpts from the texts «Los Hijos de los Días,» «El Miedo Manda,» and «Los Nadies»

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