the afternoon they would let us go, we could leave the campus, I think for five days. They sent us to do fieldwork. They sent us to cut the weeds that had grown up in the cornfields. In the afternoon we were clearing the weeds, we were joking around with each other. The compa in charge had told us that as soon as we finished we’d be able to go home for a few days of vacation. But then some other compas from the committee showed up and told us that there would be an action. They told us we had to go, that it was required.
With another compa I went from the fields to change, we went to get a jacket, or a sweater, since it was already late afternoon and we thought we’d be out after nightfall. My compañero didn’t want to go. He is disappeared. His name is Jesús Jovany Rodríguez Tlatempa. We call him El Churro, Doughnut. He told me he didn’t want to go. I don’t know if he sensed something, but he didn’t want to go. I told him that we should go, because if not we’d get punished. And so he said to me: “Okay, let’s go.”
ALEX ROJAS, FRESHMAN. On September 26, we were at dance club practice when they told us there was going to be an action. They didn’t tell us exactly what kind of action it would be. And so, around six in the afternoon, together with the other compañeros from the dance club and other clubs, we went to the parking lot to get on one of the two Estrella de Oro buses. We got on the buses. I was in the second bus. We were all talking and having a good time. During the trip I was seated next to a compañero who was one of my better friends at the school. He’s from the town of Apango. And we were talking about how we wouldn’t get separated, we would stick together. I said that whatever happened we’d try and return early. We had heard that we were going to get two or three buses to use to drive to the October 2 march commemorating the massacre of students at Tlatelolco. And so we agreed that if we were going to hijack buses, we’d get on the first bus we grabbed, so we could get back to school early and avoid any trouble. My compañero, the one who was sitting next to me, is named Miguel Ángel Mendoza. He is disappeared.
ANDRÉS HERNÁNDEZ, 21, FRESHMAN. That afternoon I—I’m in the dance club—I had finished dance practice. We finished practice and went back to our rooms. Then they called us, saying that there was going to be an action. And so, you know, we went.
CARLOS MARTÍNEZ, 21, SOPHOMORE. Every year people commemorate the October 2 massacre in Mexico City. A whole lot of organizations from the Federal District and beyond all participate. A part of the commitment that we make to attend the march is to gather enough buses to get to the march. The issue here is that we have spent so much time asking the state government for buses to be able to get around. For example, during the week of September 22 to 25, we went to conduct classroom observations in a place called Copala, in the Costa Chica region of Guerrero.
When you go to do classroom observations, there are two options: you pay your way, or you figure something else out, because the state doesn’t provide travel expenses, lodging, or food. In other words, they make it a requirement for you to go out there and that’s it. Our observations took place during the week of the twenty-second to the twenty-fifth, but the freshmen observations were coming up, and that’s why they had to go out on the action, it’s a tradition. If juniors have to go to classroom observations, then they have to get the buses. If those who are going to do observations are sophomores, then the sophomores have to get their buses. If the compañeros who are going to do classroom exercises or observations are freshmen, then they go for the buses. So our plan was to get buses for the October 2 march and the upcoming freshmen observations.
We got back to school from our observations on the night of the twenty-fifth. I was really tired and went to sleep. I got up on the twenty-sixth and went to Chilpancingo to shop for some things and returned to the school around three or four in the afternoon. I was coming down the stairs and ran into Bernardo, the sophomore compañero who’s disappeared. I ran into Bernardo and he told me to go with them. I told him I had a whole bunch of stuff to do: I had to write a report, a paper we have to write when we go out to do classroom exercises. But he told me to go with them, that it would only be a while, it would be quick, and we’d have Saturday and Sunday to do our schoolwork.
“Okay then,” I said, “let’s go.”
We left from the college parking lot around five, maybe, around five o’clock. It took a while, a really long time, to get to Iguala, because there was construction on the highway and we were stuck there for maybe an hour and a half. We were there for a good while waiting for them to finish and open the road. We were all in good moods. The freshmen were all making jokes, messing around with each other. No one imagined that what happened was going to happen. When we got to Iguala we veered off the main highway and split up. We were in two Estrella de Oro buses. One bus stayed in Huitzuco to ask for donations, and the other bus, where I was riding, went to the Iguala tollbooth. When we got there it was beginning to get dark. The plan was to stay there and grab a bus.
ÓSCAR LÓPEZ HERNÁNDEZ, 18, FRESHMAN. That day, September 26, we were out working, like always. We work in the afternoons and that day the committee members came and said: “Paisas, ¡jálense! Everybody get over here! Action! We’re going to get some buses!”
MIGUEL ALCOCER, 20, FRESHMAN. That day, the twenty-sixth, we woke up early and went to the dining hall for breakfast at seven, I think. After that we had classes. We went to class. After that the teachers gave us homework. Here at the school there are five areas: farm work, academics, marching band, the rondalla [a guitar-based song group], and dance. After classes we had dance practice. We rehearsed and then got out at five. We went to the dining hall again, and since they had told us that we would be going to observe what a teacher does in the classroom, we wanted two buses, because we didn’t have other transportation. We left here around six, on the way to Iguala, to get the buses we need to go do classroom observations.
URIEL ALONSO SOLÍS, 19, SOPHOMORE. On September 26, I remember, we sophomores had gone to observe elementary schools in the Costa Chica. I remember those days in the communities well. I came back to school on the twenty-sixth at around three in the afternoon. The compa in charge of organizing that action, a sophomore, is disappeared. His name is Bernardo Flores, but we call him Cochiloco, Crazy Pig. He told me that there would be an action in the afternoon. And to be honest, I felt like staying at the school. I had a bad feeling that something was going to happen.
The first thing that came to mind was that we’d surely clash with riot police. But I recalled that we sophomores always have to be on the front lines when things come to blows, running alongside the freshmen. We got on the two Estrella de Oro buses here at the school and left for Iguala. We didn’t go to Chilpancingo because in previous days we had clashed with the police there. So we decided not to go there, thinking that surely there would be a lot of cops there to beat us back. We left here around six.
During the drive everything was really fun. We were all playing, joking around with the bus drivers. We cranked the music as loud as it would go. It was all fun, play, joy, and laughter.
IVÁN CISNEROS, 19, SOPHOMORE. That day the compañero who was president of the Struggle Committee here at the college had asked me to help him coordinate an action. I said yes because we had just returned from our classroom observations the day before. But I told him that we should make it quick, because I needed to write my report because the teachers wanted it on Monday. I remember well that I told him yes.
“We leave at five,” he told me.
“Ah, okay,” I said, “that’s fine.” Afterwards I went to my room. A few minutes before five I ran into the Struggle Secretary, the one we called Cochi, a compañero who is disappeared, named Bernardo, also a sophomore.
“Hey, paisa, we’re going to the action,” he said, “we’re going to bring back some
