Cancun Dispatch: 9/11

Rain and Fire

| September 2003

CANCUN CITY, MEXICO -- I awaken on the grass near the fountain at kilometer zero, the intersection of Coba and Bonampak that leads into the hotel zone. The gray mist is still cool and the light is silvery on the fountain, where strange Mayan crocodile figures rise from the water. I've been sleeping next to the Korean's tent, at the vigil they set up near the spot where their companero, Kyoung Hae Lee, stabbed himself to death yesterday in protest of the WTO.

The night of the 10th, we join the vigil after our full-moon ritual in the park next to the convergence center. About 40 of us gather, make a circle, invoke the elements, and do a spiral under the full moon. Some of the punks join us, and a few of the local people who have been at the cultural events in the Parque de Palapas nearby. The mood is somber, because of Lee's death -- but as we circle, looking at the parade of faces, the different shapes and colors and ancestors looking through our eyes, the energy builds to a beautiful peak. Then we scatter to join the wake at the auditorium at the Casa de la Cultura, where the campesinos have been camping.

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