The Miners' Lament: A Story of Latina Activists in the Empire Zinc Mine Strike
What stories All the stories in my head Abuelo’s old brow wrinkled Write them down But they want to be sung Sing me one he commanded Her childish voice filled the room I’m going to sing a song About my gatito Ramón His fur is jet black and he is very fat Because he hunts the ratón Abuelo clapped and his deep laugh filled Ana Maria with a warm glow But then he told her that corridos were not just made-up stories They were history They were songs about the struggles of the Mexican people and mexican mexican heroes who fought for justice Someday Abuelo said she would have a brother If she wrote corridos about important important things her brother would sing these songs onstage Ana Maria had thought about this She wanted to perform perform corridos not just compose them Still she wrote her songs down Over the years she filled a dozen notebooks with songs for a little brother who never came 10
But Mamá had encouraged Ana Maria to do more than just write songs Mamá gave Ana Maria the vihuela and told her that if being a corridista was her dream she should never give it up Since then Ana Maria had been writing songs and playing them on her vihuela for anyone who would listen But since Mamá’s death music had abandoned her Just then a flash of yellow blue and black caught Ana Maria’s eye She looked up to see a swallowtail butterfly flit around Mamá’s cross The insect settled beside the epitaph epitaph Nosotros te amamos siempre We will always love you The words entered Ana Maria’s mind so suddenly that she gasped Grabbing her notebook and pencil she began to write Amigos vengan a escuchar mi historia de aflicción Ante ustedes he sido enviado Para compartir esta historia sobre personas sencillas Aquí está su lamento 11
Ana Maria strummed the vihuela testing a tune The music and lyrics fit together seamlessly She inhaled deeply and the tears that had been clogging her throat dissolved The swallowtail rose from the cross fluttered in the air and flew away little lighter Ana Maria rose with a sense of purpose She would write a corrido in honor of Mamá For the moment at least the sadness she had been carrying for months felt a 12
Chapter 2 When Ana Maria arrived home a blue truck was parked in front Papá emerged from the house carrying one end of the record console the wooden cabinet that held Mamá’s record player and albums Their neighbor Javier Talamante held the other end Papá called Ana Maria where are you taking Mamá’s console Mamá had talked Papá into buying it on credit last summer We are behind on our payments Papá said He and Señor Talamante heaved the cabinet into the back of the truck Javier is driving me to Silver City so I can return it before the store sends someone out to repossess it Papá climbed into the truck bed and tied the console in place But Mamá’s music Ana Maria began She isn’t here to listen to music anymore Papá did not look at her And I can’t afford the payments If the 13
