Calaveras y Literary Ofrendas, 2023 November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 San Antonio, Tejas Artwork: Mary Agnes Rodríguez
“¡Auxilio!” Se me están acabando todos mis inmigrantes y se están llendo donde hay mas feria, más futuro, más chambas, etc., etc., etc. ¿Qué hacer? No se. Pa’l norte está frio, pa’l este, mucha gente, pa’l oeste? Quizá, ¿Quién sabe? El diablito me písa los talones. ¿Qué hare? Aguanta la palanca o me salen cuernos. A lo mejor me vuelvo artista. ¡Imaginese! La Voz de Esperanza November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 Editor: Gloria A. Ramírez Design: Elizandro Carrington Contributors Lucille Briseño, Antonio Cabral, Mary Cabral, Meghan J. M. Caughey, Ellen Riojas Clark, Blanca Elizondo, siri g., Kimberly Hernández, Mildred DeLong Hilbrich, Rachel Jennings, Santos G. Martínez Jr., Carlos Ponce Melendez, Mona Lisa Montgomery, A. Nónima, Amada Núñez, Mary Helen Pérez, David Rodgers, Randy Romo, Imane Saliba, Enrique Sánchez, Jeanie Sanders, Carmen Urquijo Ruiz, Eva Urquijo Ruiz, Martina Urquijo Ruiz, Rita E. Urquijo-Ruíz, Imane Saliba, Jeanie Sanders Esperanza Director Graciela I. Sánchez Esperanza Staff Sherry Campos, Elizandro Carrington, Kayla Miranda, René Saenz, Imane Saliba, Susana Segura, Rosa Vega Conjunto de Nepantleras —Esperanza Board of Directors— Richard Aguilar, Norma Cantú, Brent Floyd, Rachel Jennings, Amy Kastely, Ana Lucía Ramírez, Gloria A. Ramírez, Rudy Rosales, Lilliana Saldaña, Nadine Saliba, Graciela I. Sánchez • 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 • www.esperanzacenter.org Inquiries/Articles can be sent to: [email protected] 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 Letters with intent to slander individuals or groups will not be published. The 2023 November issue of La Voz de Esperanza is the 24th issue featuring Calaveras. It has arrived amidst the many Día de Muertos events that engulf the City of San Antonio who many claim is now the epicenter of this celebration in the U.S. that began with the ancient indigenous culturas of Mexico centuries ago. The writing of Calaveras originated in Mexico as part of Day of the Dead and has a long illustrious history of politics, art and literary forms. The Calavera poems and illustrations are synonymous with the name of José Guadalupe Posada and his collaborators who later formed the artist print collective of Taller de Grafica Popular in 1937. When La Voz first began publishing Calaveras in 1999, there were scant celebrations of the Day of the Dead, but Calavera poems had been published annually in San Antonio by Moises Espino del Castillo since the early 70s. Moises continued writing Calaveras for thirty years before his death in 2002. Centro Cultural Aztlán began its celebration of Dia de Muertos in the mid 70s with annual altares exhibits with the Guadalupe following thereafter. In 1998 Yolanda Leyva wrote about Honoring our Dead and written tributes to honor the dead began with an Ofrenda for Eva Garza by Deb Vargas in 2006 followed by a Tribute to Frida Kahlo on her 100th birthday in 2007 by Josie Méndez Negrete. In 2008, La Voz published a tribute to Don Moises by Ellen Riojas Clark. In 2009, the Calaveras issue transformed to become the Calaveras y Literary Ofrendas issue appearing with a beautiful angel holding a calavera drawn by Lilliana Wilson. The literary ofrendas have in recent years become more and more popular and we shall have to work hard to recover more Literary Calaveras for next year to balance the issue out. Enrique Sánchez, who I dubbed Don Calaveras has written calaveras in all 24 November issues of La Voz. La profesora, Rita E. Urquijo-Ruiz celebrates 20 years of writing calaveras with this issue of La Voz (see page 7). And, she is also responsible for inspiring others to write calaveras including her sisters in Hermosillo, Sonora! Rachel Jennings, another calaverista, celebrates 10 years of writing calaveras in English with her own special Appalachian spin on killing off many a political personality. Other calaveristas, like Antonio Cabral, have appeared sporadically on and off throughout and others send in calaveras from throughout the U.S. and sometimes, Mexico. With this issue, I wish to thank everyone who has collaborated with us and made these 24 issues possible—artistas, calaveristas, gente paying tribute to loved ones and the many folks that have inspired us to continue these traditions. Do come by and celebrate with us at Casa de Cuentos on November 1st as we remember our dearly departed. –Gloria A. Ramirez, editor of La Voz de Esperanza LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 2 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. 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 Artwork: Liliana Wilson Rachel Jennings Enrique Sánchez, Don Calaveras
Dia de Muerto D s ia de Muertos Most people associate Día de Muertos with altars and gravesites decorated with cempasuchil flowers, families gathered around tombs cleaning and decorating them, eating meals, and perhaps listening to musicians play the deceased’s favorite mariachi, band, or conjunto tunes. But, after visiting Muertos traditions in 15 different Mexican states, we have learned otherwise. It’s that and much more. In Aguascalientes, there are bullfights where the most recent deaths are those of the bulls. In Oaxaca, people with painted faces and flamboyant catrinas parade around the main plaza gleefully skipping along armin-arm huapango style. In Mazatlan, burros pull carts carrying beer kegs surrounded by people with raised plastic Bud Lite cups to be filled and refilled with cerveza. Sinaloense musicians follow these crowds around the main square playing loud tubas, huge drums, and other wind instruments. We like to think that perhaps our photo exhibits in the Houston area through the years have somehow helped spread the Day of the Dead traditions across the border. — Mary Helen Pérez “Muertos” Creeping North across the Border LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 3 Three beautiful calacas, strolling in Market Square on this special day, when one said to the other two, “this brings memories of family and friends, when my parents would bring us to celebrate their loved ones so many years ago.” The other two agreed and put on sad faces, remembering their own memories of so long ago. “Well,” said the first calaca, “did we come here to be sad or to celebrate our loved ones? Let’s go and celebrate, make noise, make music, make joy, dance and be happy!” All of a sudden they produced a drum, maracas, and a tambourine. They started playing their music, and before they knew it, they had a crowd following in rhythm behind them. They passed the shops and restaurants and people lined up on the storefronts, dancing in step, yelling and laughing. The three calacas entered Mi Tierra, to everyone’s surprise, they went around the tables, making people happy with their music. They even joined the mariachis, to the delight of all! All were enjoying this tribute to life, to the beautiful memories of all, when, all of a sudden, they noticed a diminishment of sound as the mariachis slowly looked around. The people at the tables were quiet and puzzled. The three calacas had suddenly vanished, right in front of their eyes. No sign of them anywhere! And, they had not been anywhere near an exit! People looked around, listened for music, but there was no sign of the three calacas. AND, NOBODY NOTICED THE MARACAS ON THE FLOOR, WHERE THE THREE HAD BEEN!!!!!! —Mildred DeLong Hilbrich Three Calacas Photos by Mary Helen Pérez Artwork by Aleida
NOTE: Jovita Idár (1885-1946) was a Mexican American journalist, educator, and social activist who supported women’s suffrage and Mexican American civil rights. Unable to curb my curiosity, I sit in the Central Library at 2:33pm on a weekday afternoon in the Texana and Genealogy Room. Jovita, famous feminist, I came to see your name in the San Antonio City Directory. I am handed a copy from 1942-43. I find your husband’s surname, Juárez, and forename, Bartolo. Your name (Jovita) is bound in parentheses as if performing forlornness in a window or stopping a patronymic from pilfering. Your address is 204 Perez Street. My street. Yes, my street. I trace the line on an old map from Prospect Hill to where your house once nestled near the Robert B. Green Memorial Hospital. Twenty-five blocks. The numerical sequence remains, though your house was razed, the street there renamed Robert B. Green Way. Still, I claim the connection. I wonder, “Why not Jovita Idár Way?” Crossing the street to the hospital, no nursing novice, you worked as a Spanish interpreter on the tuberculosis ward. Contracting the dread disease, you died of bleeding lungs at the too-young age of sixty. Decades later, it was my womb that bled without ceasing. Stricken with uterine cancer, I needed you, Jovita, to help doctors read my horror—the same you must have felt. But you were not there. From the fourth-story window of the RBG ob/gyn clinic, I looked without a clue on the parking lot where you once lived. Had I known then where your house had been, I might have called out: “Help me, Jovita! Interpret for them this fear that muffles my voice, shuffles my words. Translate my tears for these medical gods who patrol professional boundaries with scalpel precision, erecting fences like scars. Defend me against despair, that trespasser.” Who knows? Maybe you heard me, Jovita, after all. Someone somewhere listened. Maybe I did. Somehow words of hope came to me. I still live on my street, which remains Perez at Prospect Hill. I survived. — Rachel Jennings Literary Q E My Jovita Locket Day after day, Jovita, I explore the city. I yearn to keep your portrait in a locket, a sort of pilgrim badge to wear as a necklace or shove in a pocket, but I must make do with your likeness on a US quarter, I guess. I will store your quarters in a decorative box with Kennedy half-dollars and little saints’ medals I find on my walks. They will be my treasures. For love of you, I will buy a few Jovita coins, though none will bankroll bilingual education, voter registration, or relief for immigrants. Jovita, this poem will be the locket that I put in my pocket. — Rachel Jennings 204 Pérez Street LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 4 The 2023 American Women Quarters Series honors Jovita Idar as the fourth quarter release of 2023.
Jovita, Mother in Israel Sister Jovita, no white cap covers the black coils loosely pinned on your head. Still, you bring to mind Susanna Wesley1 or some deaconess or class leader of the eighteenth century as you stand at the front of the room in a long dress and practical shoes. You speak extempore or read words of your own typing on women’s rights, maternal duties, revolution, literacy. A question comes to me. Who in this crowded hall of our own time, known for its conflict, catastrophes, can see, hear the prophecies of this ghostly Mother in Israel? Preach that gospel, Jovita. — Rachel Jennings 1 Susanna Annesley Wesley (1669-1742) organized and led religious services for neighbors while her husband, an Anglican priest, stayed in London. She was the mother of John Wesley, founder of Methodism, and Charles Wesley, a famous hymn writer. P D Ofrendas El Dia De Los Muertos - E lla M urio - Simply seeking a better life she became caught in the tangled wire that crossed the river. Her dress a death trap of twisting and turning. And her unborn baby, sensing the adrenaline of fear rushing through her mother, decided to make her exit. Where is the first worry of a mother’s hands? Is it the child becoming lifeless below her that now moves to the rhythm of the river or the entanglement of her own body dying in the water? Who will build ofrendas for this nameless woman and her dead child? Who will sing and dance for them in the street sprinkling marigolds around their memories? —Jeanie Sanders Jovita and Leonor NOTE: Leonor Villegas de Magnón (1876-1955), a close friend of Jovita Ídar, was a teacher, activist, and founder of La Cruz Blanca, which cared for wounded soldiers in the Mexican Revolution. As I loiter in the library, Jovita, flipping through pages of history books, I find portraits of you and friend Leonor, the Idár brothers in other snapshots nowhere in sight. You born in Laredo, she arriving from Nuevo Laredo, you step as young women into the Revolution as if it were a looking glass. All is inverted, strange. Jovita and Leonor, a double image, one reflecting the other: writers for La Crónica and El Progreso; nurses, teachers, Carrancistas. As she moves south to Mexico City and you north to San Antonio, her image becomes a speck in the mirror. Stepping back into the drawing room, you dream of toppling kings and queens. — Rachel Jennings LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 5 Susanna Wesley Photograph, Leonor Villegas de Magnon (back) and Aracelito Garcia with the flag of La Cruz Blanca in 1914. Image courtesy of the University of Houston. Available on the Internet and included in accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107. Artwork: Artemio Rodriguez
Jesus “Jesse” Treviño, “el artista del pueblo” Jesse Treviño’s “Mí Vida” by Santos G. Martinez, Jr. I have always been fascinated by “Mí Vida,” a self portrait that Jesse painted 50 years ago on his bedroom wall. Although intended to be private, “Mí Vida” was his first mural. It has been publicly displayed in a handful of venues since 2009, when Trevino’s retrospective exhibition formally opened at the Museo Alameda in San Antonio. “Mí Vida’s” grand scale is overwhelming and makes apparent Jesse’s immense talent, skill, and execution. At first sight, its arresting beauty against a stark black background shrouds it in mystery and captivates the viewer. It is SURREAL! Jesse takes creative liberties with Mi Vida in his visual language and reframes the lens of a standard format. It is a narrative self-portrait that daringly reflects his state of mind: It offers a glimpse into a particularly dark and challenging period during his young life as he faced an uncertain future as a disabled veteran. With inspiration drawn from “el mero corazón” (straight from the heart), Treviño lends voice to the incredible power of determination, perseverance, and resilience of the human spirit. It exemplifies that uniquely unbreakable bond between an artist and their work. He eloquently paints “Mí Vida” with pain, tenderness, optimism, and hope. In the process, it proves to be cathartic. Its deeply personal nature makes this remarkable painting the artist’s most forthright and honest work and, a timeless treasure. It is Jesse’s magnum opus. The news of Jesse’s passing came as a shock to the entire city of San Antonio. Best known for his culturally oriented photo realism paintings of the city’s West Side and his imposing public murals, many of his works depict the vitality and authentic truth of his Chicano working-class community. He was a quiet but intensely enthusiastic and prolific artist. His determination and unwavering commitment to his art, his community, and his city brought him widespread, critical acclaim. Many know his inspiring story. It begins with a hellish, life-changing Vietnam War experience, and the subsequent anguish of coping with the tragic loss of his painting hand. Yet, he managed to focus on the daunting task of training himself to use his left hand. Ultimately, Jesse defied all odds and rose to unexpected new heights as an artist and soared as is exemplified in “Spirit of Healing” that covers nine stories of the Christus Santa Rosa Hospital— now, a familiar sight in downtown San Antonio. Completed in 1997, it demonstrates the incredible impact he had on the city and honors his remarkable legacy. Jesse Treviño will be remembered as a towering figure in the San Antonio art scene, and as one of the best local artists of his generation. We, his colegas, will always view his work with awe in San Antonio and remember him for paying tribute to our Westside community, people, our values, traditions, beliefs, and our families. Nos verémos pronto, Jesse. Siempre, presente! Ellen Riojas Clark San Antonio’s heart was broken with the passing of Jesse Treviño, Chicano artist. He lives in all the artistic legacy he has left in the world and in his quierdo San Anto. I was honored to have conducted many hours of interviews with him for an upcoming documentary on him: A Latino Artist Speaks: Jesse Treviño. We were both handicapped, me with an artificial eye and he with an artificial hand in the form of a hook. I remember being in his studio, laughing as he tried to use the realistic hand that was developed for his right hand. Both of us discussed how to retrain the brain from left hand to right and what that did to perspective and being. What we would have to relearn to make the dominant change or was it like being bilingual? How would we view the world from a right to left perspective. We concluded with a slogan I coined years ago: Blessed with Bilingual Brains. He was a C/S (Con Safos) colego desde los 70’s. Many discussions ensued sobre: Is Chicano art a genre, are we artists who happen to be Chicano?; How does our work stand in the broad art scene, etc? Issues of identity as Chicanos and representation were at the forefront of challenging discussions. It was not a time of discovery for we knew who we were but our stronger sense of self was evolving. It was the beginning of articulating visually who we are. My part in the C/S group was to help with equitable representation in our city. What a struggle! We are fortunate to have your art piece, Mi Vida, one of your most personal works. We urge everyone to go visit the work at the San Antonio Central Library where it will be exhibited for the next 2 years to pay homage and to learn of this significant time in his and our lives. Jesse, your art, your work, your love for our community will endure for generations. Your pain and suffering are over. May you relish being with your beloved mother. – C/S. La Elen, your personal name for me. Literary Ofrendas, continued LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 6
Carmen Y Su Guerrera Viernes, 8 de septiembreal Esperanza llegamos a una escritora célebre con entusiasmo apoyamos Carmen Tafolla es amada profesora y escritora y a su obra publicada Guerrera se agrega ahora Azul con su voz tan bella apoyó este gran evento Celina, como una estrella muestra pasión y talento “Guerrera” es su apellido y tiene gran convicción de niña ya ha sufrido mucha discriminación Pero la apoya la abuela chicana comprometida Celina exige a su escuela su historia sea incluida Todo mundo entretenido a Tafolla iba escuchando disfrutando el contenido y de Azul que iba cantando “—Ahora que están distraídos” dijo Catrina contenta “serán desaparecidos, ni Carmen se dará cuenta” “—Eso sí que no, Pelona, desde aquí te estoy mirando, ten cuidado, reflexiona, déjanos aquí, gozando” “Abbott allá anda suelto causando un daño tremendo” “—Sí Carmen, eso es cierto voy por él, feliz evento” —Rita E. Urquijo-Ruiz Mi Barrio El Jito Un día de mucho calor la Catrina a Hermosillo llegó directo al barrio “El Jito” buscando algunos viejitos Caminando por el canal llegó hasta la Zaragoza, de pronto volteó hacia el cerro, y miró a una mujer hermosa “—Por ti he venido,” le dijo “Doña Rita hazme el favor, de subir a mi carruaje Para llevarte al panteón” Doña Rita no obedeció a la perversa Catrina, quería llenar su carruaje pero nunca lo logró. —Martina Urquijo Ruiz, Hermosillo, Sonora La Invitacion De La Muerte Estaba la Muerte un día mirándome fijamente, y por más que me esforzaba, no podía leer su mente. “—Epa, epa, Calaverita ya tus intensiones miré, dame una chancita, y a tu Cantón te acompañaré” “—Mira EVA querida que no te vas arrepentir, allá donde yo vivo, si te voy a consentir” “Es un lugar maravilloso, se baila cumbia y rumba, y se come delicioso” “—Muerte querida, proyectos tengo varios qué quiero cumplir, me preparé completita, para el día de partir.” —Eva Urquijo Ruiz Hermosillo, Sonora La Celosa Catrina Estaba Doña Carmen Lorena en los raspados María Elena cuando de pronto recordó a su hermana Ritelena Le dedicó una gran canción pa’ que alegrara sus penas pero de pronto se acordó que tenía atole en las venas Bien celosa la Catrina queriendo ella otra canción le dijo a nuestra heroína pronto te llevaré al Panteón. Ya con esta me despido recostándome en la hamaca muy pronto ya nos veremos con nuestra amiga Calaca —Carmen Urquijo Ruiz Hermosillo, Sonora 20 Years of Writing Calaveras LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 7 Calaveras La Voz De Esperanza 2023 2023 Carmen Tafolla Artwork: José Guadalupe Posada Artwork: José Pulido
Donald Estaba el charlatán orangután diciendo Hay que hacer al país grande de nuevo a huevo Cuando pasó la parca y al embustero le contestó; pues tendrás que dejar de engañar al pueblo Endiablado, el perverso a la muerte demandó YcomoentodossusjuiciosperdióCalaveras L a Voz D e Esperanza 2023 2023 Artwork: Mona Lisa Montgomery
Y como en todos sus juicios perdió. En seguida el tramposo a sus huestes A usar violencia incitó. Pero la gente no lo apoyó. Frustrado a Mar a Lago se retiró Y una docena de hamburguesas se tragó Y de indigestión se murió. —Carlos Ponce Melendez La Jefa Diablona Dedicated to “La Tirana” Es un obstáculo chingón Hostil, es el ambiente La cara, le falta sonrisa Su boca, vomita critica Sus labios, finos y severos Ofreciendo, ¡nada bueno! Persona feliz, no será Sin vision, ni una idea Maldita microgerente Con muchas cabezas rodantes Cuando venga La Muerte Preguntándonos que hacer Gritamos juntos y fuertes “¡Vete a la fregada, Mujer!” La Huesuda agarrará La Jefa Para ponerla a cargo El Abusón Donald La Lucha Constante El mundo sigue al revés con tantos conservadores y estés en donde tú estés las cosas están peores Artwork: Artemio Rodríguez Artwork: Diego Tomasini DIBRUJO
Del lugar mas diablona Hasta mas que el infierno El castigo mas profundo Que deleita todo el mundo Es ella desapareciendose Dentro de un agujero negro Su terrorismo terminará Y nadie la extrañará. — Mona Lisa Montgomery De Santis Aquí yace un mentiroso Que aparte de ser baboso En vida fue malicioso. A los pobres sus dólares les quitaba Para dárselos a los poderosos ociosos. Y quería ser presidente, Para meterle al poder el diente. Pero vino la muerte consciente Matt Gaetz What a fiendish freak this Matt Gaetz. His friends are the Furies and Fates. He screams and whines and baits. Devils, claim him. You are his mates. —Rachel Jennings y la Calaca Pos que triste, la Calaca se lo llevo’ El estaba jugando golf en su mansión Ella decidió que por abusón lo arrastró ¡Y la vil caraja lo transporto’ al panteón! El Donald le dijo, “por qué yo, ¿miserable bruja? Yo soy rico y fui presidente y lo seré otra vez,” La malvada calaca con una sonrisa jubilosa le contesto’ Ya cállate panzón que Lucifer te está esperando —Mary Cabral Por ejemplo, aquí en Texas récords estamos rompiendo atacan a bibliotecas no dejan seguir leyendo Tantos libros nos prohíben un riesgo los consideran odio y racismo se exhiben y hasta pánico generan El calor este verano nos estaba consumiendo billones gastan en vano la gente sigue sufriendo Con boyas en medio río destruyen el medio ambiente migrantes en desafío, luchan constantemente Creyéndose muy cristianos a gays y trans discriminan pero todo es inhumano si los miedos predominan —“Harta me tienen ya todos” un día dijo La Muerte “bitdArtwork: José Guadalupe Posada
Y se lo llevó de repente, Para limpiar el ambiente de tanto político corriente. —Carlos Ponce Melendez George Santos George Santos of false alias, dares yet to show up in Congress. He lies about school, jobs, business. His pipe dreams are ridiculous. Satan, keep this man from our halls. Let Santos write Hell’s hateful laws. —Rachel Jennings Lauren Boebert Lauren Boebert, icky pervert, with her lover put on a show. To lustful teens they did revert. As they groped, we saw mad lust grow. The two performed live theater. How dare she attack a drag show? With porn stars she went toe to toe. A red-suited man removed her. To Hell’s public stage she will go. —Rachel Jennings Mike Pence With due respect, all hail Mike Pence. Threats made against him got intense. He still loves Trump, which is nonsense. His self-loathing must be immense. He has his Demons, such sweet gents. On 1/6 began his torments. —Rachel Jennings “por no cambiar estos modos hasta aquí llegó su suerte” Se fue Catrina cargando con toda la odiosa gente con ella estarán pagando su maldad eternamente —Rita E. Urquijo-Ruiz LA VOZ de 9 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • November ESPERANZA • Artwork: Artemio Rodríguez Skull Artwork: José Guadalupe Posada
Elvira Quecano (1928-2010) My grandma, the feminist, Her fingers were long and thin, Como de pianista, Her skin was light, Campesina de piel clara And she couldn’t ever keep a secret. Some may even call her chismosa. She loved chicharrón with papas criollas. My sweet grandma, Her heart held the entire family (She was home for us). She used to knit and watch TV And cook for many (The best food I’ve ever had). Waking up early, and working and working For everyone to sit At her table. You may say She was a typical grandma, But she wasn’t. In her 60’s, She learned how to drive. In her 70’s, She said, "stop” And left her abusive alcoholic husband (My grandpa). She moved to live with us. And her smell Her TV shows And her wonderful food Landed at my table. She was not a typical granny She was Elvira The first feminist I knew (Without knowing). My sweet grandma, Siempre te amaré. —Siri G. Tomorrow Never Came with You Thinking of you more Cada dia de mi vida What I would give to Hear your voice again I know we will reunite But do you know when? Pienso en las palabras Que me dirías I wish I could hold you close And keep you safe How I would’ve helped you When you were a wafe Can I let go of your memory? But continue to reminisce? Can you visit me in my dreams? Stay a little longer? Sorry I persist Tomorrow never came with you And how I wish I could see your view You were so beautiful Even in a hospital bed Not getting to see you In your last days Is my biggest regret I’ll suffer in silence in my car, In the coffee shop, in the bar Wondering if they’ve loved anyone The way I loved you Did you watch me get married To the love of my life? I wish you could’ve been there Dancing with me that night When will it be my turn? To kiss your cheek again? I’m jealous of the angels That get to be your best friend And how they all dance with you And your fun never comes to an end Some days I’ll catch a red cardinal Hiding in plain sight I know you see me I know you do What I would have given To have gotten to spend forever with you I can’t let go of your memory And I will still reminisce Tomorrow never came with you Yet I still long to see your view But better yet hold your manita And tell you how much I miss and How much I still love you. — Kimberly Hernández Literary Ofrendas, continued The sum total of life in a Cup Still wet with Divine dew Resting place Hollywood Cemetery. —A.Nónima Mi PADRE RIP, Eugenio García Elizondo November 18, 1931-November 18, 2013 Mi padre tan guapo que era, siempre con una sonrisa. Mi padre tan bueno y con un gran corazón , siempre ayudaba al quien lo necesitaba. Mi padre tan fiel, en Diosito siempre confió. Mi padre se fue al cielo en su cumpleaños y ahora es el día en que murió. Mi padre lo extraño, tan bueno que era. Mi padre nunca te olvidaré Que siempre, en paz descanse, y que un día nos volveremos a ver. Este día de los muertos, le mando un abrazo fuerte de puro corazón. Que descanses en paz. —Blanca Elizondo LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 10 My Tía Sol siri g and her grandma My Tía Sol Blanca and her father, Eugenio Eugenio García Elizondo
Literary Ofrendas, continued Remembering Melissa Perez By Meghan J. M. Caughey On June 23, 2023, in San Antonio, Texas, a 46-year-old woman was having a mental health crisis. She had the psychiatric diagnosis of schizophrenia. It was the middle of the night, and she was scared that the FBI was spying on her through the apartment fire alarm system. When she cut the wire to the fire alarm, the police were called. She was outside walking her dog when they arrived, and when they tried to get her into their police car, she got scared and ran and locked herself in her apartment. Three police officers tried to get into her apartment, and one tore the screen off of her window and shouted :“You’re gonna get shot!”. Melissa held a hammer in her hand, but she was not a threat to anyone since she was behind a locked glass door. Nevertheless, three officers fired their guns at her through the locked door. She was hit with multiple rounds from their guns and killed. The officers there at no time tried to use de-escalation techniques and did not call for trained mental health support. I am telling you this sad story because I also have the diagnosis of schizophrenia, and I realize that some similar tragedy could happen to me or my peers who also struggle with serious mental illness. I moved to Texas last year from Portland, Oregon. In Portland, I helped with the Crisis Intervention Training for the Portland Police. I am an artist, and I would show the officers slides of my drawings and paintings because seeing them made it easier for the officers to understand what the experience of being in psychosis is like. ( www.meghancaughey.com) . I have become very frustrated and discouraged because, despite repeated efforts, I received no response to my offers to contribute to training the San Antonio Police. I am aware of how hard it must be for a police officer, and I have firsthand experience of times when I have personally witnessed them act with respect and kindness. But there seems to still be a problem in our culture, with prejudice towards mental illness, which held the awful, violent response that led to Melissa’s death. I finally turned to making art to express the tragedy of the death of Melissa Perez. I hope my painting will help honor her life and bring about awareness and reform. My painting shows Melissa walking her dog and her golden spirit rising toward heaven as she left this world. And guns and bullets are filling the air. There is a lot of the color cadmium red in my painting, and yes, it is blood, but also it symbolizes the life force. I believe that Melissa is in a better place now. She is free. But her four children and family grieve. May we who are still living honor her memory by making her life count in the practice of kindness, empathy, and love, Eulogy for Dolores especially in the face of mental illness. Aye Que Dolor! Se murió mi amor. Mi prima hermana Esta semana Dolores was the sister I never had. So my emotions are beyond sad. She was my best friend. We were loyal ‘til the end. Juntas, desde cuando nacimos. Hasta en la escuela estuvimos. Y penas de la vida sufrimos. We understood each other Were so much like one another. Even our voices and our choices. Como puedo vivir sin ella? Yo se lo que me espera En el cielo, o en una estrella It Is God’s will, but I feel her with me, still. —Lucille Briseño LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 11 Artwork: Meghan J. M. Caughey Mi prima hermana, Dolores Contreras
Literary Ofrendas, continued Alicia Segovia Fecha de despedida May 17 2023 Beloved mother, sister and family member. Fabric artist, collector and DIY vendor with AMIGAS. Peace Market vendor, Esperanza supporter. She touched many lives. Que en paz descanse. Rodolfo López April 13, 1940 – September 23, 2023 Conjunto Heritage Taller cofounder, multi-generational educator and musician. Vietnam veteran who served in the U.S. Air Force. Civil servant at Kelly Air Force Base teaching GED classes and ESL. Taught conjunto music at the Teatro de Artes de Juan Seguin in Seguin. Elder half of the duo, Dos Generaciónes with 8 year old Robert Casillas. Believed music bridged generations but also crossed borders being intergenerational and cross-cultural. Loving husband, father, grandfather and friend. Avid traveler, rancher, photographer beekeeper and gardener. Attended Edgewood I.S.D. schools. A gentle soul who lived life to the fullest serving others. Que en paz descanse. "He touched so many different people, unbeknownst to me and unbeknownst to many of us, he never met a stranger," —Leticia López-Spicer, daughter Ivy Joan Young December 23, 1947 – April 24, 2023 Native of Washington, D.C. Local and International Voice for Justice, Journalist, Poet, Lesbian and Gay Rights Activist. Worked for VISTA in Chicago, the Venceremos Brigade in Cuba, Astraea National Lesbian Action Foundation and the NGLTF. Worked against apartheid and was involved in various national marches including the National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights in 1987. Part of Sophie’s Parlor women’s radio collective among others. Organized SisterFire concerts and worked with Sweet Honey in the Rock among other local and international cultural arts endeavors. An unwavering dedication to justice marked her life. A keynote speaker at the Texas Lesbian Conference of 1990 San Antonio, TX. Ivy Young will long be remembered in the archives of LGTBQ justice. Rest in Power! Antoinette V. Franklin June 19, 1954 – October 3, 2023 Prominent African American poet of San Antonio. Author and educator. Mother, sister, kind and loving friend. ESL teacher at Lackland AFB teaching international students. Incarnate Word University scholar and student. Involved in San Antonio Cultural Arts community. Supporter and member of the Carver Cultural Arts Center and part of Holy Redeemer Catholic Church community and the eastside, Wheatley community. May she rest in peace and beauty. Recently Departed “Nothing can ever take away a love the heart holds dear.” —daughter, Lorraine Zepeda Celebration of Life: Hosted by Conjunto Heritage Taller at Lerma’s Cultural Arts Center on November 5th from 2-7pm with donations going to the Taller’s scholarship program. I just want to let everyone know not only will she be missed. But her reflection in the community is deep. I hope my mother touched your life or your loved one. She will be greatly missed. —Alexis Rose (Alexia Lex Frank) LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 12
Our father Nahil H. Saliba left us on June 6, 2017. He was the most loving, and tender father to us. He was strict and had certain standards for us that we had to abide by. But he was also funny and witty, had a wealth of knowledge, and we knew he always wanted the best for us. He spent his life teaching from the age of 17 till the day he retired. He taught generations of people in our home regions of Tripoli and Koura in Lebanon. His specialties were history and geography but he loved our Arabic language and excelled at it. He recited classical Arabic poetry from memory and loved Arabic music and songs especially the old ones. Our cousins and others always came to him for answers to questions and sought his wisdom and knowledge. I remember when we still lived in our village in Kfarsaroun, Koura, there was an event that would take place in the summer called “Rally”. It’s a type of sport where young men and women rally in their cars from village to village and would have to answer questions about history, geography or the rules of Arabic grammar, poetry and so on. They would stop by our house, run up the stairs, as we lived on the third floor, to ask our dad and get his help in answering these questions then run back downstairs (it was a timed competition) and take off in their cars. For me as a 12 or 13 year old, witnessing this brought me joy and such pride in my father. Some of those kids were actually his students and some weren’t but they all knew they had a great resource in him, knew they were welcomed into our home and dad was happy to help them and teach them. My father was also a hunter of birds (now it saddens me after all these years but then it was just something that men did). One time I insisted and nagged him so much that I wanted to go hunting with him, so he agreed. We went hunting in the woods in our hometown. He was showing me how to spot the birds and which birds to look for. More importantly, he warned me to stay quiet when we spotted a bird so it wouldn’t fly away. Then he started to show me how to use the hunting rifle, aim and shoot. I think I was about 15 years old at the time. When I got to the point of shooting, the gun recoiled and I was thrown back. I screamed in horror and all the birds flew away! Needless to say, we came back home empty-handed that day with no birds for my mom to clean and cook for us to eat. And, as you might expect, I never went hunting again—it was a mutual decision between me and my father. I always remember my gentle, loving father. Not a day goes by since he passed that I don’t think of him: his gentle ways with us, his extreme love for me and my sister, how he cried silently at the airport and tried to hide it when my sister went away to Massachusetts for graduate school. I remember how he greeted me at home when I went back to Lebanon for a visit before his, mom’s and sister’s papers came through and they immigrated here. I remember I went up the stairs to our 3rd-floor home quietly, peeked through the open front door and saw him sitting in his chair, reading the paper, as he always did, waiting for mom and I to arrive. I said “I’m here baba”, he threw the paper aside and we hugged with joy and tears. My baba will always be with me, inside my heart. I miss him so much. They tell you, with time grief will lessen, but it doesn’t. I think we just learn to live with it better. I have all these sweet memories of him and with him, my father, but even as I’m writing these words, I cry. Our father, Nahil H. Saliba By Imane Saliba LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 13 Literary Ofrenda Nahil H. Saliba with his daughters Imane & Nadine
The Man Who Sleeps in the Graveyard He was brought to America when he was four the man who sleeps in the graveyard. There is his blanket and there the stone place he rests. He feels God is watching out for him among the dead. It is safer here he says. No one to hassle you. At night he takes comfort from the silence that seems to whisper words that rhyme in his dreams. His two American born children talk to him across thousands of miles. “Don’t give up” they say. “Don’t cry”. “Don’t despair”. With tears streaking down his face, dropping off his chin, and falling on the tops of his shoes he tells whoever will listen that this is the hardest thing he has ever done. He is a felon now because he was caught trying to recross the river to see his children. He says he wishes he were dead. He doesn’t even know where the streets go. These words spoken with such desperation are flung out among the dead for they alone really listen. While he lays curled in sleep the graveyard ghosts ask among the quiet “Why hate a people established in a country hundreds of years before you were”? “Why hate a people that have crossed and recrossed over the same land for thousands of years”? But there is no answer. – Jeanie Sanders An Aria of Love’s Loss You stood at the sink, washing dishes, lost in the song that you were singing, thinking yourself alone, as I sat below on the carpet of the sunken living room, a catbird seat from which to hear glory, the first time I truly understood the word, as you opened up wide, a part of yourself I’d never seen, notes swelling and soaring, until tears streaked my face from the magnitude of such beauty as to overwhelm, the words unknown to me as you sang in the Latin of the convent, the place you had never wanted to leave, the home that you were forced to forsake for obligations that had never been yours, but family called the irony not lost on me, even at thirteen, that I wouldn’t have been born had you stayed, into this life of constant survival mode at the mercurial swings of your mood and the newly discovered word for my difference that you were already trying to scrub out of me with pink dresses and bows, dunking me repeatedly in the blood of jesus that did not save me from all the horror that was to come not knowing for many years, the truth that fueled your pain drove your anger that almost destroyed us both, quietly tucking the magic of this song, this moment, into my heart inside a tiny bomb shelter of space, that was yet unbroken — Randi Romo Los Restos LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 14 I would like to donate $________ each month by automatic bank withdrawal. Please contact me. For more information, call 210-228-0201. Make checks payable to: Esperanza Peace & Justice Center Mail to: 922 San Pedro, SA TX 78212. Donations to the Esperanza are tax deductible. Name ______________________________________________________________________________ Address __________________________________________________Phone ____________________ City, State, Zip ____________________ Email_____________________________________________ I am donating ___ $1000 ___ $500 ___ $100 ___ $50 ___ $25 $_______ La Voz Subscription ___ $35 Individuals ___ $100 Institutions ___ Other $ ________ Send your tax-deductible donations to Esperanza today! I would like to send $________ each __ month __ quarter __ 6-mos., through the mail. Artwork: César A. Martínez, Dando Vida, 1999
Nov. 7 is Election Day Voting on 14 constitutional amendments Amendment Guide: bit.ly/2023-amend Check individual websites, FB and other social media for information on community meetings previously listed in La Voz. For meetings and events scheduled at the Esperanza Peace & Justice Center check: www.esperanzacenter.org or call 210.228.0201. Notas Y Más November, 2023 La lucha continua En el ombligo de nuestras tierras nuevomexicanas se ha luchado contra incursiones norteamericanas, ante el alambrado y las cercas, Las Gorras Blancas, que hasta hoy día al vendido alcalde le dan en las ancas. El gobierno federal incinera tierras y bosques comunales que por generaciones nos han sostenido con sus dotes naturales, pero con su indiferencia hacia el pueblo que debe representar, ante las llamas y lluvias torrenciales el alcalde sólo se sabe ocultar. Las Vegas, tan original como tus pueblos ancestrales, te dedico esta Calavera que brota como manantiales, aguas cálidas nutridas de energía y memoria, ¡Que vivan Las Gorras Blancas en toda su gloria! –David Rodgers Recordando a David Rodgers Que tristeza, la Calaca se llevó Al Compa Profe que de Brooklyn se mudó Al Cerro del Tecolote allá en Nuevo México. David Rodgers busco’ vivir en paz Escribiendo poemas a su amada esposa que falleció. Y usando su talento como buen gastronómico Invito a la Calaca a comer lo que cocino’ “Es mi famosa pasta con chorizo,” le rogó Pero la Calaca se enchiló y se enojó. El plan de David no funcionó Y la Calaca se lo llevo’. —Antonio Cabral Gemini Ink’s 23rd Inkstravaganza “Fellow Travelers: Celebrating the Poetic Journeys of Jenny Browne” McNay Art Museum Moroccan Courtyard & Leeper Auditorium Friday, November 10th, 6:30-9:30 pm Award for Literary Excellence • Jenny Browne www.geminiink.org/inkstravaganza-event/ https://www.texasbookfestival.org/ 2023-full-author-lineup-announced/ Start your 2023 tax deductible gifts Give to the Esperanza in spirit of solidarity so we can continue to speak out, organize and fight for our communities for another 35 Years. Your support is needed NOW more than ever! Thank you for your gifts! Send donations to Esperanza Esperanza Peace & Justice Center 922 San Pedro Avenue San Antonio, TX 78212 To sign up as a monthly donor, Call 210.228.0201 or email: [email protected] Visit www.esperanzacenter.org/donate for online giving options. ¡Mil Gracias! 2023 LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • 15 Artwork: Rini Templeton
Noche Azul de Esperanza Sat Nov. 18, @ 8pm • Sun Nov. 19, @ 3pm Tickets: esperanza.eventbrite.com Fee: $7 más o menos Corridos MujerArtes Ceramics sale Open daily M-F, 10-5 MujerArtes Clay Cooperative @ Rinconcito de Esperanza 816 S. Colorado Street Hybrid War: Nicaragua in the Crosshairs Guerra Hibrida: Nicaragua en la Mira Camilo Mejía an Iraq war veteran and resister, authored the book, Road from Ar Ramadi. He has denounced US regime change operations against the Sandinista government. Dia de Muertos 2023 Wednesday, Nov. 1st • 4pm-10pm 816 S. Colorado St. 78207 Altares, Música, Calaveras, Comida, y mas Call 210-228-0201 for more info Plática with Camilo Mejía November 4th @ 6 pm EPJC • 922 San Pedro • 210.228.0201 2023 Annual Peace Market/ Mercado de Paz Fri. Nov. 25 & Sat. Nov. 26 from 10am to 6pm Mini Mercado - Sun. Nov. 27 from 12pm to 6pm Applications still available. Volunteers needed. Visit esperanzacenter.org for more info. Haven’t opened La Voz in a while? Prefer to read it online? Wrong address? TO CANCEL A SUBSCRIPTIONEMAIL [email protected] CALL: 210.228.0201 Non-Profit Org. US Postage PAID San Antonio, TX Permit #332 LA VOZ de ESPERANZA • November 2023 Vol. 36 Issue 9 • ESPERANZA PEACE & JUSTICE CENTER 922 San Pedro San Antonio TX 78212 210.228.0201 • www.esperanzacenter.org Artwork: Angélica M. Gámez, 2008 Artwork: Mary Agnes Rodríguez