Démocratie Réelle Maintenant des Indignés de Nîmes

Colmenar

In Sol on 21 July 2011 at 23:38

Colmenar Viejo, July 21.

Dear people.

Today’s march was pretty easy. We took the main road from Manzanares, circling the lake on our way to Colmenar. It was only about 15 kilometres. To my great surprise there wasn’t one single house built on the lakeside during the speculation bubble. Of course there’s a reason for that. The lake is part of Madrid’s drinking water supply. As I heard it’s one of the best functioning public utilities in Spain, the water is of high quality and offered almost freely to the consumers.

Things like this can’t last in a postmodern society. It’s anti-economic. Water can be privatised. People can be fired, quality can be reduced, and prices could go up. Water is business. And Spain’s health care system is next.

Personally, I’m convinced that turning drinking water and health care into a vulgar quest for profit is not only immoral, it’s illegal as well. A government that claims to be democratic cannot deprive the people from its properties without the people’s explicit consent. In Italy, citizens have managed to collect the ridiculous ammount of signatures required to organise a referendum against the privatisation of water. The campaign was almost completely ignored by the prime minister’s media sources, but through grassroots organisation enough people were mobilised to reach the quorum. Over ninety percent of the voters said ‘no’, don’t touch our water.

We are constantly honked by the cars and the vans and the trucks. 15M is cool lately, even under the unforgiving sun. For the first few kilometres out of Manzanares we are escorted by a man from the local 15M movement. At roughly half way he hands us over to a girl from the Popular Assembly of Colmenar. She’s regularly calling the home base to prepare the arrival.

This close to Madrid we need to worry less about logistics. It’s all taken care off. The local Assembly welcomes us on the Plaza del Pueblo in front of the town hall with drinks and suncream and applause. Lunch is duly prepared. The best gazpacho and the best paella you can imagine, and lots more. The only thing that amazes me, a bit, is the complete absence of local or national media. The papers dedicate pages upon pages to the internal convulsions of the big parties, but they don’t seem to know what’s news any more.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Quite the contrary. They are delegitimising themselves in a certain way. Also during the first days of the Acampada in Sol they more or less completely ignored what was going on. Thankfully there was an internet newspaper called periodismo umano that covered it all, and they have seen their visits go up from thousands to millions. We don’t depend on main stream media any more. Thanks to the internet news will surface, and people will find it.

'Jim'

In the evening, after a nice siesta in front of the town hall, the united Assembly of the march and the local town is held. But not only. In a corner of the square there is also a children’s assembly, moderated by people from the march. It’s a great sight. This is education. ‘Suppose you are with six friends who all want to play at a different game, how would you solve that?’ At the end the answers from the kids are presented to the grown-up’s assembly: ‘If everyone wants to play a different game, you should invent a new game all together’. Applause and waving hands. Sometimes the common sense of a child is all we need.

Scenes from an Assembly

When the assembly is over, there’s is more food offered by the local population, there’s music, there’s a movie projection, there’s party. People are preparing beds and tents in front of the town hall. If this is really Plaza del Pueblo, then the place is ours.

Cercedilla

In Sol on 19 July 2011 at 23:28

Cercedilla, July 19.

Dear people.

All of yesterday we had the Sierra de Guadarrama in front of us, the mountain range that divides the central highland of Castilia into two, and walking was easy. Today was different. This is what the Dutch and Flemish Tour de France adepts would call De Koninginnerit. The Royal Marching Day.

We have crossed the mountains. We took the pass of Fuenfría at an altitude of over 1.800 meters. It was a wonderful experience, even though, at dawn, it looked like it was going to be infernal. Heavy rains were hammering down on the tents and the sports center and an icy wind blew dark grey clouds over the valleys. We all wrapped up and we prepared for the worst.

Fortunately, it wasn’t going to be the worst. The rain duly stopped when we went out and the howling wind gave way to silence as we started our ascend through the meadows. The atmosphere is mythical. Long strokes of fog are floating along the slopes. The peaks are hidden by the clouds.

And yet again, I have this sense of gratefulness to be here. With these people, in this panorama, at this particular moment in history.

As we climb we enter the pine forests. The group spreads out. The difference between the first to arrive and the last is over half an hour. At the higher altitudes, where cows are walking loose in the forest, the local ranger guides us up. He is visibly happy to do so. He insists on being photographed with the Northern Column. “Go this way,” he says, “it’s probably another three hours to the top.”

From the group in the back I try to catch up with the people in front, walking along stupendous valleys of virgin forests, disappearing and reappearing from the fog. Suddenly it occured to me that I have been walking in circles all of my life, like most of us. Now, for the first time, I’m walking to get from one place to another. I’m walking to travel. And it feels good. It makes you appreciate the real human value of distance.

It’s cold and windy on the top, even though it’s July in the heart of Spain. We plant the flags of Castilia and the Rioja and the Basque country, and we eat a quick sandwich. A helicopter comes flying over low. We are used to being followed at a discreet distance by police cars. Later in the valley we find out it was a fire department helicopter who was filming the passing of the Northern Column from the air.

We take the flags and we start our descend over the ancient Roman road that crossed the peninsula. Now that we are on the southern side of the Guadarrama the weather definitely turns in our favour. The sun comes out and the hours of descend are pure fun. Just before we arrive at Cercedilla, the end of today’s leg, we are welcomed in a large meadow by local representatives of the Popular Assemblies in the Sierra.

We have left the region Castilia y León and we have entered the Comunidad de Madrid. The capital is still four days marching away but we are already in the orbit of Puerta del Sol. The villages here have started to organise themselves in the weeks after the 15th of May as part of the extension to the neighbourhoods and villages of the region. And they have prepared a stupendous lunch for us. After that, siësta and internal assembly in the shade of the trees.

At the end of the afternoon we triumphantly march the last few kilometres down to Cercedilla. We enter the village singing that we will hold an assembly at eight, and that everyone is invited. The popular participation in this town is significant. It’s like people have been waiting for us. They applaude us and they don’t hesitate to speak about their local problems, which appear to be much the same as on the other side of the Sierra. Corruption, the sale of natural resources to private companies, speculation, etc.

It’s the way of the world. And until now we accepted it, because we are told that our system is the best of all the ones that have ever been tried. But a lot of good people don’t believe that anymore. They are sick of it. Until not so long ago those people were dispersed and divided. Now they are starting to organise themselves. A married couple of school teachers join us with their baby and a backpack. They are the future, and they will march with us to Sol.

Segovia

In Sol on 17 July 2011 at 21:38

Segovia, July 17

Dear people,

For the first time in almost two months I have left Madrid. Together with comrades Jim and Nacho we drove up to the old city of Segovia to witness the arrival of the Northern Column, the one from the Basque country. I took some pictures.

It feels great to be out of Madrid for a while. You can smell the air of the pine trees in the mountains, you can finally see the horizon. And you can also see the devastating impact of the Spanish building fury on the landscape.

We cross the Sierra de Guadarama and descend on Segovia. The city is famous for its Roman aquaduct. I remember a photo from an old Italian schoolbook with a sheperd and his herd walking underneath. It’s absolutely stunning. When I look at it, I don’t understand how it can stay up, let alone for two thousand years, without cement. I have seen Roman buildings and ruins all over Italy and in Rome itself, but I don’t remember ever being as impressed by a feat of engineering as I was here, today. But then again, putting things into perspective, I can imagine that people loathed it back then, just like we would hate to see an elevated highway running through a city.

Another good thing of being out of Madrid is getting in touch with the movement in the province. There’s a small 15M information point right next to the tourist office on the central square. The funny thing is the little differences. The slogans, the logos, the manifestos. They all express the same feelings, but every city, every acampada has developed its own style.

 We meet a marcher on reconaissance. He announces that the column is near, only five kilometres from here. We check our batteries and our memory cards, so as to be able to document the event, and we go ahead to meet them. It’s July 17 2011, the Northern Column arrives at Segovia.

We hear them before we can see them. It’s the sound of drums and chanting. An emotional moment. Up to now for me the marches had been coloured lines on a map of Spain. But today, finally, I can feel the vibration of the tambourines. I can see the Basque flags appearing and the people dancing down the road behind a huge yellow banner.

 Panoramically, the arrival under the Aquaduct is priceless. I’m happy we came to witness this, I’m happy to see the smiles of the these people, and to feel their strength. This is history on the march

We have lunch with the column in one of the parks. They have their lodgings at the municipal sports center right down the aquaduct. Jim and me and are seriously considering to join them.

The marchers put up their camp in the municipal sports center, they take a shower and hold an internal assembly. When it’s finished, people hurry down along the aquaduct to the central square for another assembly, this time in public.

People explain what the 15M means to them. They talk about the marches, about the people they encountered in the villages. “Many of the elderly that we came across were very sympathetic to our cause. The only thing they feared is that this movement will be short lived. Well, I’ll tell you, they don’t have to worry. This movement is slow, but it will go on, and it will go a long way.”

 Popular participation in Segovia is minimal. People in this well-to-do little town prefer to walk up and down the street in scenes from the Belle Epoque. But that doesn’t prevent comrade Jim to immortalise the assembly. Not in photo, not in video and neither with words, but with paint…

Jim, painting

Popular Assembly in Segovia, oil on fruitcase