Reading at the Vermont Studio Center

The Red Mill, the main building of the Vermont Studio Center, in the year’s first snowfall.

I’m at the Vermont Studio Center, in Johnson, VT for a month-long writing residency. The art center is based in repurposed turn-of-the-century buildings in the center of town — houses, church, grain mill, dance hall, gymnasium — all turned into studios, housing and dining hall. It’s a lovely place with about 50 residents in addition to a large community of staff artists and writers. I’m here to work on a series of essays.

Writing residents are given opportunities read their work to the community in regular readings held in the Lowe Lecture Hall, a wonderful old converted theatre. I chose to read from the manuscript of Menno Moto: A Journey in Search of Identity. It’s the first time I’ve read any of this work publicly, and I hope there will be many more readings once it gets published. You can listen to an audio recording of the reading here:

Maverick Studios, where I have been sat writing for the past month, on the banks of the Gihon River

Bradley House, my home for the past month.

Wolf Kahn Studios, filled with incredibly talented visual artists.

Dogshead Falls on the Gihon River

Colony trial

I’ve been in the Santa Cruz area of Bolivia for the past week. Bolivia has around 70,000 Mennonites, mostly Old Order, and most of them live within a few hours of Santa Cruz. I’ve met a great bunch of people at RTM Radio (a Christian radio network) who have taken me in, given me places to sleep, food to eat, people to meet, etc. They also put me on air, which has turned me into a minor (like D-list) celebrity in the area. I’m that Canadian guy on the motorbike. A big thanks to the Janzen, Friesen and Toews families.

Bolivia contains some of the most conservative Mennonites in the world. The majority of them do not have electricity, they drive tractors with steel wheels, have no cars/trucks, adhere to strict dress rules, have very limited education and struggle with Spanish (They speak German and Plautt Deutsche). Their remoteness and lack of education and civility has manifested itself in chronic problems with domestic abuse, incest, alcohol and drug abuse and conflicts with the Bolivian locals.

In 2009 a case came to light that has put the colonies, and particularly Manitoba Colony, into the international press and shed some light on how ignorant and vulnerable these people are. A group of men were accused of possessing a magic spray which could put whole households (and their dogs) to sleep, allowing the men to enter the house and rape the women unnoticed. A posse of vigilantes arrested these men, tortured them (one man died of his injuries) and eventually, by paying large sums of money to local authorities, had the men put in jail. This has become a modern Salem Witch Trial for the Mennonite community. No one knows the truth, who is guilty, if anyone is guilty, what happened, etc. But the men are in jail, and the story has only grown more lurid, complicated, unbelievable and sad over the years.

I have no illusion of finding the “truth” since it doesn’t really exist anymore. People don’t know the difference between what they have heard, dreamt, done, seen, imagined or wished. But I am meeting with many of the parties involved, as I think this story illustrates what can happen when you willfully keep a population ignorant, isolated and repressed.

This couple, Mr and Mrs Peters, told me the story of how their son was arrested, choked until he passed out and then hooked up to a 220v electric fencer until he confessed to raping women and having a can of the magic spray. The spray has never been found or proven to exist. They say he’s innocent.

I went to the Palmasola prison to interview the men, who have never formally been convicted or sentenced. Palmasola is a “prison town” where children and families live with the convicted in a village like setting. It’s insane, overcrowded (more than 4,000 inmates), filthy but also colorful and quite “normal” in some ways. I kept thinking of Papillon when I was in the prison. I was not allowed to take my camera in, but I do have a picture of my arm to show you. I got stamped, numbered, checked and crossed by marker for every gate I passed through and bribe I paid.

Curve Sickness

It’s been an incredible ride south from Mexico City. Victoria has come up to speed, literally, on her bike. I have to confess, after the first day of riding with her I thought, “Oh dear, this could be a long few weeks of riding.” She was quite nervous on the first day, especially when we hit the highway and she had to pass big trucks. But since then she’s become very comfortable on the bike and is taking on the role of biker chick very well, as this photo shows.

The morning of our departure we discovered that an oil seal on Vic’s bike was leaking…actually gushing oil. We couldn’t find an O-ring of the right size, but we managed to cut one down to fit. However, the oil still leaks out when the bike is cold…so we’ll have to sort that out at a bike shop soon.

From Mexico City we headed to the Tenochtitlan ruins. Impressive, hot, and lots of tourists. The ride to Puebla was Vic’s first taste of the open highway. We ended up ducking into a Holiday Inn the first night, as it was dark, we were tired, and it was there. The next day’s ride, from Puebla to Oaxaca, was incredible. Twisting mountain roads, 2-lane, incredible scenery, tiny villages, and just km after km of riding, with very little traffic.

Of course, you can’t go riding off into the hills of Mexico without having a petrol issue. Oddly, Victoria’s little 250cc Yamaha appears to have longer fuel range than my 650cc, so at around 6pm I frantically started looking for fuel. We had 2 hours left to ride, and everyone we asked seemed to have a different idea on where we might find fuel. Finally, after stopping and asking for a “gasolinara” for the umpteenth time we found a family selling petrol out of their back door.

Fueling station. Photo by Victoria

Many, many curves later we rolled into Oaxaca, very tired. We took the next morning off to take a quick look at the town. Stunning architecture, lots of cool little shops and cafes. And lots of tourists.

It was back on the curvy road that afternoon, but we didn’t make it far before I got us lost, and then Victoria’s gear shifter broke (twice). I had a bolt that fit, but while I was working on the bike I firmly planted my elbow on the hot muffler. Ahh, the smell of BBQ on a mountain road. We fell short of reaching our target of Tehuantepec for the night, so holed up in a little village about 50km away. It was dark by the time we rolled in, and we had just enough energy to enjoy a few Coronitas and a very tasty 40 peso (for 2. that’s US$3) meal on the street.

Yesterday we made the final dash to San Cristobal. We found a shop along the way, which gave me an old bushing which I sanded/cut to shape to fit Victoria’s bike. Now it’s good as new.

Repair job. Seems I'm always begging shop time on my adventures. Photo by Victoria

We rolled into San Cristobal during daylight…a first since leaving Mexico City. This is yet another lovely little city, cobblestone streets, amazingly pretty courtyard hotels with well-kept colonial-era buildings. Today I’ll do some work on the bike — new tire is so wide it rubs on my muffler, so gotta adjust that, and a few bits that are rattling, need oil, etc. I may also raise my bike back up. When I bought it I dropped it an inch cause I’m too short to ride it at stock height, however, fully loaded on Mexican roads I really need that extra inch of travel/clearance, so I’ll just have to grow my toenails long so I can touch the ground.

Photo by Victoria Burrows

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Cuauhtemoc

I arrived in Cuauhtemoc on Tuesday night, and came out to the colony on Wednesday morning. It’s been a very interesting time already. I’m really excited about visiting more colonies now. I found it pretty cool to check into a hotel in low-German…first time I’ve ever been able to do that. In fact, it’s the first time I’ve ever been in a community that functions entirely in low-German. I’m struggling with the language, but I can feel my German improving already.

I’m planning to visit various Campos in the next few days. Right now I’m at KM 13, but I want to head further north today or tomorrow and visit some of the Kleinde Gemeinde and Old Colony campos. The people I’ve met so far have been incredibly friendly and hospitable and refreshingly honest. I have various invitations for meals, places to stay for the night, community events, camping trips and even met some fellow riders who want to go for a cruise on Saturday. I’m now very excited to see how the coming months unfold.