Update: All of those we had believed to be lost ended up being well and alive, living at the university. The three guys who had placed their stuff at my hostel had just been too scared to go back into town and Irma turned out to have moved to another part of the university.

For some of the activists here, the only way of “winning” in Oaxaca is not by throwing out the governor, but by actually evicting the police from the Zocalo physically. And even if they do not have a majority in the APPO assembly, they still pursue that goal.
This is how I experienced the battle here three days ago, that was “lost” (given the above criteria for winning) by the APPO.

On the morning of Friday November 25th, I arrived back in Oaxaca from Mexico, DF. Although there had been a minor confrontation with some 5x demonstrators hurt here on Monday November 20th, generally everything looked like before I left this place on Sunday the 19th. I found a youth hostel close to the Santa Domingo church, with only a French crack addict living there besides me, and went down to the square in front of the church. There I met the 20 year old punk rocker and two of his friends, one of whom at least was a student. They had been on a free APPO bus from Mexico DF that night, and it wasn’t the first time: “I’ve been taking nine tours down here so far,” Abdul, a student of middle eastern cultural studies (but without family links to the Middle East), told me.

The Punk rocker, who it showed currently is enrolled in a preparatory school of the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM), had received some minor scars in the battles of Monday, and had returned to Mexico, DF to heal them. Two of them had major bags and the punk rocker had a smaller one, which they did not want to carry along, so I offered them to let them put them in my bed until after the march, that was planned for that day. I talked to the three about me knowing people inside the PRD. Abdul strongly disapproved of the PRD and tried to list up atrocity after atrocity that various members of the PRD had done over time — from asking former New York mayor Gillianani to help “clean up” Mexico city (effectively by putting in more police) to turning on social movements in Michoacan. I also met some youngsters I had seen at the PRD camp, one of whom had been detained in Oaxaca before and therefore shown up and stayed at the APPO solidarity camp in DF during my visit there just now, but they all had found other places to put their stuff.

Someone had paid for buses to drive us out to where the march was starting (12 km outside of the city center) and so after sitting around for a few hours, drinking free APPO coffee, we finally left out there. The plan was to walk the 12km, and then end up in the city center again, surrounding the police at the Zócalo from the distance of one street, to prevent any kind of provocation. Or at least that was what the APPO meeting, as far as I had been told, had decided upon.

However, the decision making culture in the APPO meant that many of the youngsters, specifically those manning the barricades did not feel for stopping just there. They had lined up a few buses next to Santa Domingo, which they could drive into the police and possibly light them on fire. At the Santa Domingo that afternoon, I walked around with western activist Petra who recognized Irma from the barricades standing next to one of the buses. We went over to talk to her to find out what’s happening: “yeah, they guys [her fellow occupiers] are crazy” she explained why they would not keep to the decision made by the APPO meeting, “they don’t wanna listen.” Irma provided us with gas masks and showed us around a bit. So far the only activist I met who could speak English, Irma, I was later explained, was only 16 years old and run away from her Mexican family who had moved to the United States.

Although the blockade around the Zócalo seemed to work most places, there was plenty of opportunity to shout and provoke the police (I can not say for sure whether demonstrators or police first threw stones though), especially at the streets leading towards Santa Domingo. Once the police got active, they started moving north and demonstrators had to run. The main battle itself only lasted a few hours and as the police advanced towards the Santa Domingo (the buses prepared by demonstrators were never put to use) a tear gassed Flavio Sosa tried to convince everyone to change tactics by shouting from a plateau in front of the church: “Comrades, we have to coordinate us, we’re never going to win a battle like this.”

But a group of youngsters shouted back: “Son of a whore! Go away!” Flavio Sosa started walking towards them, seemingly to discuss with them, but the police advanced and soon thereafter the entire square was soaked in tear gas. Petra and I went further up North, and a US American photographer offered us to “bring us out of this mess.” So we left in his car for the other side of the city. Various smaller battles continued on throughout the city, and when we walked back over the square in front of Santa Domingo a few hours later, it (and also the area around my youth hostel) was still soaked in tear gas, and various groups of youngsters/police were going around battling and smashing stuff. That night I stayed in the hostel of Petra, which, although situated directly at the Zócalo (and thereby police), was not soaked in tear gas that night.

Not everyone had such chances, and so around 140 were arrested, the same number were wounded and around 60 have “disappeared.” Among those missing it seems are both Irma and the three young males who left their bags at my place. Yesterday I went through their stuff in order to look for clues as to their addresses and complete names, but most of what I found was is just giving hints, and not clear answers. Today, Petra and I will try to compare what we have with the people on the list of disappeared people they have at the university radio.