Seven Poems on Migration

Translator’s Introduction

IRMA PINEDA (BINNIZÁ) has published nine books of poetry. Naxiña’ rului’ladxe’ / Rojo deseo (Red desire), published by Pluralia Ediciones in 2018, won Mexico’s Caballo Verde prize for best book of poetry. She currently serves as senior advisor for science, education, and culture for the MORENA Party in the Mexican National Congress. She is the only woman to have been president of Mexico’s National Association of Writers in Indigenous Languages (ELIAC) and was a 2013–15 member of Mexico’s Sistema Nacional de Creadores de Arte. In January 2020, she began a three-year term as one of two representatives of Latin American Indigenous peoples at the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues.

Pineda writes bilingual poems in Spanish and in Diidxazá (also known as Isthmus Zapotec). Diidxazá has probably 75,000 speakers and is part of the family of languages known collectively as Zapotec, which has approximately 460,000 speakers (Sistema de Información Cultural [SIC] Mexico 2020). Pineda creates what she calls “parallel poems,” one version in Diidxazá and another in Spanish, reflecting her lived experience: a constant flow between two languages, two cultures, two cosmovisions. Educated in Spanish-only public schools in her hometown of Juchitán, Pineda learned to write in Isthmus Zapotec by looking up words one by one in books she borrowed from her neighbors’ bookshelves. At that time, there was no proper Isthmus Zapotec dictionary. Years later, Pineda’s mother, Cándida Santiago Pineda, founded the first (and still the only) library in her family’s neighborhood in Juchitán, in Mexico’s southeastern state of Oaxaca (Pineda 2012).

Fewer and fewer children in Juchitán grow up speaking fluent Diidxazá. Meanwhile, Diidxazá vocabulary shrinks under the relentless pressure of Spanish. Irma Pineda and other bilingual Indigenous writers in Mexico describe their literary work as “language rescue,” as well as artistic expression. That dual intent is often unappreciated by Mexico’s wider literary community, which long excluded them. Until recently, Mexican bookstores would shelve Indigenous writers’ fiction, poetry, essays, and drama under “Anthropology” rather than “Mexican Literature.”

In a 2008 essay, Irma Pineda explained, “Indigenous Mexican cultures are developing a literature that recovers the cosmovisions and aesthetic values of our own cultures, strengthens our languages by reincorporating archaic words and creating neologisms, and also integrates the concerns of a globalized world with local community reflection” (Pineda 2008, 1).

The poems published here are drawn from Pineda’s 2007 poetry collection, Xilase qui rié di’ sicasi rié nisa guiigu’ / La nostalgia no se marcha como el agua de los ríos (Nostalgia Doesn’t Flow Away Like River Water), published by Escritores en Lenguas Indígenas (ELIAC), a national Mexican association of Indigenous-language authors. ELIAC began its own publishing house because traditional Mexican publishing houses did not take their members’ literatures seriously (Pineda 2012).

Like many of Pineda’s poetry collections, Xilase qui rié di’ sicasi rié nisa guiigu’ has a strong narrative arc; each poem serves as a microchapter in a highly compressed story in poems. It is a collection of persona poems told in two fictional voices from Pineda’s hometown: a person who has immigrated to the United States as an undocumented worker and that person’s partner, who has stayed at home. Pineda’s home community, Juchitán, has experienced heavy outmigration as people leave for jobs in Mexican cities, along the U.S.-Mexico border region, or in the United States.

The current migration crisis in the United States—government officials separating families; government officials refusing to allow political, economic, and ecological refugees to apply for asylum; and children housed in cages—makes the poems of Xilase qui rié di’ sicasi rié nisa guiigu’ urgently important. These persona poems weave a narrative about the physical and emotional challenges of migration under less dire conditions than those we are currently seeing. In the dozen years since these poems were first published in Mexico City, the situation for Pineda’s friends and neighbors who migrate to the United States has grown more awful than we could have imagined.

Pineda...