Variable winds carry the stench of burned flesh up to the
promontory where I, General Jos Mara Rangel, sit atop my nervous
horse. It occurs to me that the smell is not unlike that of an
asado I sampled in Buenos Aires some years ago. Meat, after all, is
meat, whether animal or human. From time to time the animal beneath
me shies and dances when a rolling cloud reaches high enough to
engulf us. Below, the village of Tomchic smolders, nearly leveled.
The last stronghold was the church. I see smoke billowing out of
its windows and around the steeple, signaling the end of the last
of them, as if they could win a challenge against me and my mission
to rid the north of insurgent vermin. No, we will not honor the
village corpses. Those not incinerated will be left to rot. It will
be a lesson. Another lesson. * * * Tomchic Blood At the turn of the
nineteenth century, each of the countries of North America--Canada,
the United States and Mexico--determined to crush opposition
throughout their lands with military force, if need be. InManitoba,
Louis Riel, the leader of the Mtis, was hanged in 1885. The
massacre by the US Cavalry of the Sioux at Wounded Knee in the
Dakotas took place in 1890. And in the Sierra Madre of Mexico, the
village of Tomchic in Chihuahua was razed by federal troops in
1892. The Mtis, the Indians, and the Mestizos incurred the wrath of
their governments by defying attempts make them surrender their
lands, their cultures, and their autonomy. There were survivors,
however, those who escaped the devastation and those who are
descendants and relatives of the victims. The spirit of
self-determination yet lives among them. This is a story of one
lone writer and teacher who did notabandon the demand for justice.
General
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