I Couldn't Even Imagine That They Would Kill Us. John GiblerЧитать онлайн книгу.
22 to 25, we went to conduct classroom observations in a place called Copala, in the Costa Chica region of Guerrero.
When you go to do classroom observations, there are two options: you pay your way, or you figure something else out, because the state doesn’t provide travel expenses, lodging, or food. In other words, they make it a requirement for you to go out there and that’s it. Our observations took place during the week of the twenty-second to the twenty-fifth, but the freshmen observations were coming up, and that’s why they had to go out on the action, it’s a tradition. If juniors have to go to classroom observations, then they have to get the buses. If those who are going to do observations are sophomores, then the sophomores have to get their buses. If the compañeros who are going to do classroom exercises or observations are freshmen, then they go for the buses. So our plan was to get buses for the October 2 march and the upcoming freshmen observations.
We got back to school from our observations on the night of the twenty-fifth. I was really tired and went to sleep. I got up on the twenty-sixth and went to Chilpancingo to shop for some things and returned to the school around three or four in the afternoon. I was coming down the stairs and ran into Bernardo, the sophomore compañero who’s disappeared. I ran into Bernardo and he told me to go with them. I told him I had a whole bunch of stuff to do: I had to write a report, a paper we have to write when we go out to do classroom exercises. But he told me to go with them, that it would only be a while, it would be quick, and we’d have Saturday and Sunday to do our schoolwork.
“Okay then,” I said, “let’s go.”
We left from the college parking lot around five, maybe, around five o’clock. It took a while, a really long time, to get to Iguala, because there was construction on the highway and we were stuck there for maybe an hour and a half. We were there for a good while waiting for them to finish and open the road. We were all in good moods. The freshmen were all making jokes, messing around with each other. No one imagined that what happened was going to happen. When we got to Iguala we veered off the main highway and split up. We were in two Estrella de Oro buses. One bus stayed in Huitzuco to ask for donations, and the other bus, where I was riding, went to the Iguala tollbooth. When we got there it was beginning to get dark. The plan was to stay there and grab a bus.
ÓSCAR LÓPEZ HERNÁNDEZ, 18, FRESHMAN. That day, September 26, we were out working, like always. We work in the afternoons and that day the committee members came and said: “Paisas, ¡jálense! Everybody get over here! Action! We’re going to get some buses!”
MIGUEL ALCOCER, 20, FRESHMAN. That day, the twenty-sixth, we woke up early and went to the dining hall for breakfast at seven, I think. After that we had classes. We went to class. After that the teachers gave us homework. Here at the school there are five areas: farm work, academics, marching band, the rondalla [a guitar-based song group], and dance. After classes we had dance practice. We rehearsed and then got out at five. We went to the dining hall again, and since they had told us that we would be going to observe what a teacher does in the classroom, we wanted two buses, because we didn’t have other transportation. We left here around six, on the way to Iguala, to get the buses we need to go do classroom observations.
URIEL ALONSO SOLÍS, 19, SOPHOMORE. On September 26, I remember, we sophomores had gone to observe elementary schools in the Costa Chica. I remember those days in the communities well. I came back to school on the twenty-sixth at around three in the afternoon. The compa in charge of organizing that action, a sophomore, is disappeared. His name is Bernardo Flores, but we call him Cochiloco, Crazy Pig. He told me that there would be an action in the afternoon. And to be honest, I felt like staying at the school. I had a bad feeling that something was going to happen.
The first thing that came to mind was that we’d surely clash with riot police. But I recalled that we sophomores always have to be on the front lines when things come to blows, running alongside the freshmen. We got on the two Estrella de Oro buses here at the school and left for Iguala. We didn’t go to Chilpancingo because in previous days we had clashed with the police there. So we decided not to go there, thinking that surely there would be a lot of cops there to beat us back. We left here around six.
During the drive everything was really fun. We were all playing, joking around with the bus drivers. We cranked the music as loud as it would go. It was all fun, play, joy, and laughter.
IVÁN CISNEROS, 19, SOPHOMORE. That day the compañero who was president of the Struggle Committee here at the college had asked me to help him coordinate an action. I said yes because we had just returned from our classroom observations the day before. But I told him that we should make it quick, because I needed to write my report because the teachers wanted it on Monday. I remember well that I told him yes.
“We leave at five,” he told me.
“Ah, okay,” I said, “that’s fine.” Afterwards I went to my room. A few minutes before five I ran into the Struggle Secretary, the one we called Cochi, a compañero who is disappeared, named Bernardo, also a sophomore.
“Hey, paisa, we’re going to the action,” he said, “we’re going to bring back some buses.”
“Sure thing,” I said, “let’s go.” So I went to let some other compañeros from the Order Committee know. There I asked the president, I said:
“Hey man, what’s up? Aren’t you coming?”
“Help me out, no? I’ve got to make a trip to Chilpo. Cover for me.”
“Sure, man. No worries.”
We kept walking and Cochi said to me:
“Compa, I need more people. We’re going to get some buses.”
“Okay, no problem.”
“Lend me the activists.”
“That’s not my decision. That’s up to the COPI,2”— and right there was the compa in charge of the COPI and Cochi asked him.
“Hey, lend me the activists so we can go bring some buses.”
The COPI asked me directly:
“Are you going?”
“Yeah, I’m going,” I told him.
“Alright then, take ’em.”
And so the activists came out and got on the bus.
The atmosphere on the bus was fucking cool, for real. We were joking around. We were on two buses, two Estrellas de Oro. I was riding with the driver that everyone called Chavelote, Big Kid, and behind us, in the other bus, there were two other bus drivers. One was called Ambulancia, Ambulance, and the other Manotas, Big Hands. Manotas was driving the bus and Ambulancia was just going along for the ride. The atmosphere, I tell you, was fucking awesome. The freshmen were all joking around, and those of us sophomores at the front of the bus were doing the same.
The ones who were riding with Manotas and Ambulancia stayed behind at a place called Rancho del Cura, to ask for donations, and we went to the highway to grab the buses. We stopped and were just waiting for some buses to drive by so we could grab them. But there we noticed something strange. When some buses started to approach on the highway, the federal police stopped the buses, made the passengers get off, and sent the buses back. And the passengers came from the tollbooth on foot.
That’s when I said to Cochi: “No, man, the jig is up, we aren’t going to be able to grab anything.” We were going to go back to the college when we got a call that some other compañeros, who had grabbed a bus that was going to drop its passengers off at the station, were being detained. So we took off fast, we went straight to the bus station to bust out the compañeros being held there.
ÓSCAR LÓPEZ HERNÁNDEZ, 18, FRESHMAN. There in Huitzuco we started to keep a look out for buses. First we grabbed a Costa Line. Right then we asked the driver to take us to the college, because we were going to go to an event on October