A travelogue about five wonderful days in Mexico.
Twenty-five years ago, after hearing a talk by historian Howard Zinn, I wrote a song based on one of the anecdotes he shared with the audience that evening, about the Irish soldiers drafted into the US Army who deserted from the army's ranks and joined the Mexican Army, during the course of the US invasion of Mexico that began in its "full-scale" form in 1846.
This is an exercise I've engaged in now several hundred times since then -- hearing about a story from history, particularly one that speaks to the present moment in some way, and writing a song about it. Of all of those songs about historical events, one of them would go viral, which would be this one I wrote around the year 2000. Much like Howard Zinn's seminal book, A People's History of the United States, over the years this song would grow in popularity through the process of word of mouth or its modern equivalent, in a continual upward arc.
Soon after writing the song I had my first tour of Ireland, which involved an interview with Sinn Fein's newspaper, An Phoblacht, which focused on the song, and the history of the St. Patrick Battalion, the San Patricios. There would be many more tours of Ireland after that one.
Over the years I'd hear from people in Mexico who would tell me about the commemorative events, the festivals, and the generally deep appreciation people in Mexico have for the Irish who fought for Mexico, and the deep appreciation for the concept of solidarity, and of music, as well. Every day, for many years, I'm notified in my email inbox about another wonderfully gushing comment on my YouTube channel, on one of the various live videos of me singing "St. Patrick Battalion," talking about the everlasting brotherhood of the Mexicans and the Irish.
I long thought that someday, because of this song, I might get invited to play at a festival in Mexico. It was evident from the stats on YouTube that a lot of the hundreds of thousands of views on some of the videos were from Mexico. Last weekend, it happened! My singing partner, Kamala Emanuel, and I spent five glorious days in Mexico City, which centered around the St. Patrick's Weekend events in the Mexico City neighborhood of Churubusco.
The initiative to bring me to Mexico came from the people who run the Destileria San Patricio. As part of promoting their brand, this distillery became the first corporation that would ever use music from one of my songs for a social media promotion campaign -- or for any other advertisement, for that matter. To promote the brand and, having met the distillery founders, probably more out of a deep appreciation for history and such displays of heroic solidarity as those represented by the history of the San Patricios, they also organize festivals -- where, of course, they also take care of drink sales.
From the moment Kamala and I arrived at the airport, we were treated like royalty, starting with the gorgeous bouquet of flowers Luis handed to Kamala when we all met.
Immediately, everywhere we went in Mexico City from then until we left, I was struck by the constant, and very welcome, reality that whenever you entered any space -- any business, any cafe, wherever -- people talked to each other, whether they had ever met before or not. If you look at the available data, it suggests that while there is a loneliness epidemic in so many countries, this is much less the case in Mexico. This is not at all surprising. I'm reminded of a friend from Iran who used to say that "in my home town by the Caspian Sea we didn't need therapists, because we had neighbors."
On Saturday, March 15th Luis picked us up at our hotel and took us to Churubusco.
Churubusco is a particularly notable place, in the history of the San Patricios, and in the history of the US invasion of Mexico and the year 1847. Around the convent in this neighborhood was where the San Patricios made their last stand, fighting the US Army in their fifth engagement, by the end of which most of the battalion had been killed in battle, fighting for a free Mexico.
I knew this history was well-known and well-loved by many Mexicans, but we were both still surprised as well as wildly impressed by the extent of the popularity of St Patrick's Day in Mexico. Not just St Patrick's Day, but really St Patrick's Month. And of course not just the holiday, but the man -- the saint, St Patrick, and just as importantly, the battalion named after him.
But far beyond the holiday, the saint, or the battalion, the love of Irish music and dance is abundantly evident wherever we went in Mexico City. By all accounts this phenomenon is not limited to that weekend or the day itself, but there are events in all sorts of different parts of Mexico for several weeks leading up to St Patrick's Day.
In Churubusco for both of the two days we were at the St Patrick's Weekend festival, there was another festival happening only 100 meters away, on another side of the big old convent and church that are the center of the neighborhood.
The Irish dancing on display was really great. So many of the musicians were fully capable of setting aside their instrument and dancing for a while. Some of the folks at the festival had Irish ancestry, including one academic who was writing a book about the battalion, and in the process of her research had discovered her relative.
At least two of the bands that played have a Spanish-language rendition of my song, "St Patrick Battalion," in their repertoire. Many other solo artists and bands in Mexico have recorded the song, and I keep learning about more of them -- including lots of musicians who weren't born yet when I first recorded the song.
It's not surprising that this seems to be a bit of a moment for this song, and for the memory of the battalion. Perhaps the interest follows the same upward curve that my following on the various platforms has, since the 2024 election that led to Trump's second presidency. It's the context, the attacks, the threats, the mass deportations and the false accusations from the biggest military power in the world, which of course is that country just to the north of Mexico, that inspires the renewed interest in solidarity, heroic sacrifice, anti-imperialist resistance, and music about these things.
Beyond the appreciation for history, solidarity, and cool saints, there is clearly a widespread appreciation for music, and the power of music to communicate the relevance of a story and evoke the emotions around it, and this was made clear to me by so many people over the course of the weekend and beyond, one after another, in so many ways.
I say this at the risk of appearing to be a bit of a narcissist. It is humbling and wonderfully therapeutic to have written a song that is so appreciated, to be sure. But what I think is instructive about the reaction to the song is not about the song itself, but about the importance of music to so many Mexican people, who understand how powerful a force it can be.
While there was no over-the-top Beatles kind of stuff going on or anything, if I was walking around the area I rarely went more than a couple of minutes before posing for another group photo with fans of the song.
It was interesting to note the broad array of politics represented at that festival. Judging from the conversations Kamala and I had with folks, both the Mexican right and the Mexican left along with the Mexican center were all well-represented in the crowd. The further left people tended to be a bit more circumspect about talking about politics, until it was clear we were on the same page. In fact, that kind of reserve about expressing strong political views was something I encountered a lot. People generally tended to err on the side of being diplomatic. I tried to do the same, though both of us probably blew our leftwing covers with some of the songs in our set that addressed more contemporary subjects.
But whether people love the new Mexican president or despise her, whether they're stalwart supporters of the PRI or Morena, whiskey-drinkers or teetotalers, business owners or former guerrilla fighters -- and we met all of them there -- everyone agrees that St Patrick, Irish music and dance, and the San Patricios are all wonderful things, and everyone appreciates that gringo there who wrote the song about them.
The entire time we were in Mexico City I found myself reminded of my tour of the Occupied West Bank, Palestine in 2005. The appreciation people had there that there was some guy writing songs in English about what they were going through was absolutely tremendous. Everywhere I went, people were feeding me delicious multi-course meals. Everywhere I went, at every gig, I was being given an award. The treatment in Mexico was just like that, and I have both the belly and the award to prove it.
On our last day in Mexico, Luis took us on a boat ride in a lake full of artistically and very colorfully-decorated, covered boats. It was St Patrick's Day itself, and the day after the festival. Because it was a holiday, the lake was crammed with boats, and they were constantly ramming into each other, reminiscent of bumper cars at an amusement park.
The guys with very long, thick wooden poles who were maneuvering/steering the boats around each other and through the lake were often almost falling off of their perches and into the water, it seemed, but it never quite happened. On many of the boats, hired mariachi bands and other types of musicians were entertaining people. On our boat, we brought the musicians with us.
Somehow or other, the last time I had been in Mexico was in the fall of 2006 -- a long time ago. I'm almost certain my next visit will be soon. Perhaps as a refugee, the way things are going in Trump-land. If I do end up escaping real or potential persecution in the US and finding relative safety in Mexico, I won't be the first.
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