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At Downloads under “HAVA Texas” the Texas Civil Rights Review has posted a pdf file of the Oct. 22, 2004 Statement of Work (SOW) for the contract to build a statewide database of Texas voters. The SOW lays out the general timeline for the state to pay $12 million to chief contractors IBM and Hart InterCivic. The project is running behind schedule, but the nominal project coordinator for the state says the final deadline will be met.

By Greg Moses

If you were standing at 7th and Colorado about 5:15 Monday, the river of people flowed down past you from the top of the hill at 11th Street, careened out of sight around the corner at Sixth and then came back, flowing hard East along Fifth before turning North and coming up Congress. In all directions at once, the river of people could see itself flowing south, east, and north at the same time! At the sight of it, everyone cheered.

Veteran activists who were scattered through the crowd hadn’t seen anything like it since Kent State protests or the build-up to Iraq. At the federal plaza, people waving flags, holding signs, pushing baby buggies, and chanting to their heart’s content were overflowing along San Jacinto and back down Ninth Street. There must have been fine speeches at both ends of the march, but for most the people, it was mostly people who made the day most worthwhile.

Already by 2pm the crowd begins to rally near the steps of the Capitol. Students from middle school, high school, and university are more than a thousand strong.

“No human being is an illegal alien,” declare trilingual t-shirts in English, Spanish, and Arabic, sported by leftward leaners from the nearby forty acres. The Socialist Worker is available in Spanish.

Cinco de Mayo t-shirts, white t-shirts, and flags of both kinds (Mexico and USA) are some of the colors shown by high-schoolers and middle-schoolers. Texas NAACP President Gary Bledsoe stands tall among the early crowd, too.

Austin interfaith has signs that say, “All Religions Believe in Justice.” Someone hand-letters Leviticus 19:33-34, “When an alien lives with you in your land, do not mistreat him. The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God.”

“They say they are going to build a wall!” shouts a student taking turns at a bullhorn somewhere from the middle of a swarming rally. “Who do you think they are going to get to build it?” The crowd is ready with cheers. Nothing needs to be explained today. Ten by ten, students continue to arrive up the South walkway or around the West Wing of the Capitol.

“Immigrantes!” calls a speaker on the bullhorn. “Yay!” answers the crowd. Images dance in the sun: Univision 42, News 8 Austin, the Virgin of Guadalupe, and the Texas Bill of Rights.

“We walked three hours!” says a young woman from Crockett High. About 200 made the trip, with police escort and principal.

“Tomorrow we vote!” reads a hasty piece of body art, scrawled in black marker on a young man’s bare back. Signs say Hoy marchamos, manana votamos. “What do we want?” yells the bullhorn.

“We should have power over the government so the government can’t have power over us!” cries a speaker. Overhead, a black-and-white helicopter makes a steady clockwise circle. In these early hours of the march, the noise of the helicopter is not yet drowned out by people’s voices.

“As much as half of all growth in US retail banking will come from immigrants,” says a sandwich-board sign strapped to the shoulders of a serious-looking university student. He could probably cite the source.

“Student Power! Student Power! Student Power! Power to the Students! Students,” goes the next chant. They repeat the pattern with Gente, Migrants, and Chicanos. “Gente Power!”

“Register to vote!” calls an organizer with a clipboard. “Here sign this card for the Senators,” says another, with two American flags sticking up from her hair. “Yes to the DREAM Act!” calls a sign.

From the South walk comes another dozen teenagers in white shirts, kicking a soccer ball, carrying a Mexican flag. Around the West Wing comes another troupe of UT students. The helicopter makes another round.

“Southwestern Supports Immigrants Rights,” says a sign in the hands of a sorority sister. “I am an immigrant,” says a sign held by an Anglo, “and so are you!”

“We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us!” You gotta love the things students put to paper out here. Another swirl of images: AP Photographer, the Virgin of Guadalupe, shrieks and splashing water. A dark brown arm branded with whelps of greek letters (a tragic and horrible assimilation; how drunk do you have to get for that?).

There are a couple of folks attempting a counter protest. One guy sticks himself at the foot of the Capitol steps with a sign that says, “Defend the Border.” After about five minutes, I don’t see him or the sign again. Same story with a young woman who goes marching up the walkway with a large corrugated sign that reads: “I am a Hispanic against illegal immigration. Ask me why?” I seriously doubt anyone here is much interested in that conversation today.

“Dignidad, Justicia, Igualidad al Immigrantes or Dignity, Justice, and Equality for Immigrants,” says a huge bilingual banner from the Capitol steps. “No somos criminales.”

“The backbone of America is the immigrants,” says one sign. Another quotes JFK: “Immigrants enriched and strengthened the fabric of America.” At the megaphone, someone is speaking about “hard labor jobs.” A small handmade sign says, “No immigrant, no economy.”

From South and North come new groups of students who immediately start their own rally: “we won’t take this anymore!”

“US machines work, but whose blood is the grease?” asks a tall banner. A posterboard gives a timeline of American immigrant policy under the title, “US tradition, mistreating immigrants.” The timeline marks the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, the refusal to allow Jewish immigrants in 1924, Mexican repatriation of the 1930s, California’s Proposition 187 in 1994, and this year’s HR 4432, the attempt of Congress to criminalize the mass of undocumented immigrants who testify to the human consequences of USA free trade policies.

As I’m trying to think what to say about the teenagers who take shelter in the Alamo memorial, up the South sidewalk comes a half-dozen Aztec dancers. I recognize Susana Almanza and Daniel Llanes of PODER (People Organized in Defense of the Earth and her Resources). They drum their way into the astonished crowd at the Capitol steps. After a while they come dancing back to a shady spot for a rest, where Daniel gets ambushed for a televised interview. To a blonde reporter he explains how the Aztec symbolism communicates the indigenous roots of the Mexican peoples: “We were here first.” A smell of incense cleans the air momentarily.

As the crowd thickens around the Alamo memorial, I shift one more shade tree to the South where energetic men unpack little American flags for people streaming up the walkway.

“$2,000 F**k That” says a sign resting on the grass, referring to a proposed fine that would be imposed on each and every undocumented immigrant.

Undocumented immigrants pay $7 billion annually in Social Security, says another one of the sandwich-board signs laying near the banner of the University Leadership Initiative. Eighty-four percent of undocumented immigrants are in their “prime spending years” of 18-44, says another sign, compared to 60 percent of the US population overall.

“E.U. es Tierra de Immigration!” Zapatistas in bandanas pass out literature. Looking south down Congress Ave. from the steps of the Capitol, red and green traffic lights wink back.

A demonstrator takes the red and white stripes of the American flag and makes them into stripes of red white and green, replacing the stars on one side with the cactus, eagle, and serpent. Her work gets noticed by Jim Swift who takes it to his cameraman. Another demonstrator brings a flag of the world, showing the Earth as it looks from the moon. I recall the flag being designed in the aftermath of 9-11 as an attem

pt to unify the world and internationalize American consciousness. Folks here seem to like it: “Hey, that’s the word flag!” Sin fronteras.

It is 4pm now and the crowd is swelling by the minute, with constant foot traffic up the walkway. The popsicle vendors are having a fine day from their little pushcarts along 11th Street. Workers are beginning to show up in dusty clothes. Families with children and strollers are walking proudly up the streets. Homemade t-shirts have the word Minutemen crossed out in red.

One mother hands a sign to her son, and they stand together: “Bush, Bring Back my Dad”. Which war zone was Dad lost to? Afghanistan? Iraq? Rio Grande?

“Give me your tired, your poor,” says a banner with all the words from the Statue of Liberty. Before moving down the lawn another tree, more images swirl, ALLGO t-shirts, an Irish American for Immigration, a boom box singing in Spanish, and a rainbow of balloons in red, white, and green.

At the fourth tree south of the steps I’m surrounded by “Recuerdo” t-shirts from 107.7 FM. More baby strollers. Legal observers with clipboards and black armbands. The march is ready to start. “He will panic without Hispanics,” says a tall banner moving into place along the walkway. Time to head South to the gate.

“El Pueblo Unido Jamas Sera Vencido!” is a popular chant today, spoken with exactly the same staccato cadence as “The People United Will Never be Defeated!”

“Czechichan!” proclaims a proud sign. In an immigrant nation, “discrimination equals fascism.” At the South gate of the Capitol, a line of police motorcycles signals that we won’t be stepping down Congress. Instead we walk West one block to Colorado and pass the gate of the Governor’s mansion on our winding way Southward toward the federal building.

“A Day Without an Immigrant” says a posterboard sign taped to a camper-topped truck. Another sign references Exodus 22:21, “You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.” The streets are churning with “Si Se Puede!” Surely Cesar Chavez is smiling with us now!

As we come down the hill at 10th St., we can see the river of people before us. A cheer goes up! The chant immediately changes to “El Pueblo Unido.” We are the people united. There is no defeat in sight. The helicopter seems to purr quietly overhead, not nearly as loud as it used to be. Anti-Racist Action clears 8th St. going South. Doug Foxvog stands on his partner’s wheelchair to snap a photo. It’s an exhilarating moment.

A little girl smiles up at me from over her mother’s shoulder. Along the wide street, the people stroll with their signs, their families, their bicycles, and their baby strollers. Sideways we look at each other and grin. At O’Henry Hall we take a West turn at Sixth Street.

“Jose A. Garibay” says the sign walking in front of me. At the age of 21 Garibay was killed in Iraq, and upon his death the native of Jalisco, Mexico was awarded US citizenship. As we walk around a parking garage on Lavaca to march East along Fifth St., the chant turns to “Respeto!”

“We’re the caboose!” someone notices about the time that the sun hits us from its reflection in the Frost Building. After we clear the street, traffic can move again. We are encouraged to walk a little faster by an organizer who shades her neck with a protest sign.

“Land of the free?” asks a sign at the corner of Fifth and Congress as we turn North. “Not without Amnesty!” it replies. Motorists on Congress honk and wave as the end of the line comes into view. The chant is back to “Si Se Puede!” The Littelfield clock reads 5:35.

We have one more turn to make at Ninth Street before this long, plumed serpent comes to rest at the federal plaza. At the intersection of Congress and Ninth we are greeted with a quotation from Texas poet-philosopher Gloria Anzaldua: “This land was Mexican once, was Indian always and is, And will be again.” Near the art museum waves the blue flag of Nicaragua.

“Everyday we are working,” pleads a handmade sign. “We are trying our best here. Let us be legal resident.”

From the Super Michoacan popsicle cart I purchase a Mango Acidito and stroll into the federal plaza. The speeches are going well. Cheers go up. But mostly in the plaza, along San Jacinto, and down 9th St. the people are holding their own freedom fiestas with families and friends. Finally, the city bus is standing room only, overflowing with chatter that you never hear on a regular night after work.

“Senoras!” calls a young man from an SUV just before the bus arrives, “El Primero de Mayo!” Don’t forget.

Amarillo, Austin, Corpus Christi, Dallas, El Paso, Houston, San Antonio, and Tyler all have events scheduled for the April 10 National Day of Action. See the April 10 website

“We never anticipated it getting this big,” reported Lt. Rick Watson, a Dallas Police Public Information Officer. “The estimates were anywhere from 20,000 to 200,000, but all of a sudden they started coming, and they kept coming and kept coming. We estimate that we have 350,000 to 500,000 people down here today.”

Although mostly apparently Hispanic, the protesters included all kinds of people, from every race, color, and nationality. They were young and old; documented and undocumented, middle class and working poor.

The protesters’ signs and banners expressed their singular goals with such phrases as, “Fair Legalization for All Immigrants,” “We are the Voice/Force – Politicians,” “Wanting to Work is Not a Crime,” and “No to HR 4437.”

The megamarcha, as the organizers dubbed the event, was the grand finale of a series of protests during the first weeks of April 2006 led by thousands of students walking out of school and marching on Dallas City Hall. Story by Cliff Pearson, North Texas IndyMedia

See also the megamarch home page:

http://megamarch.com/default.asp