We parked on a dirt layby next to the junction, and since it was a gloriously sunny day, we got out and stood by the car until he turned up. It felt like waiting to do a drug deal, or a hostage exchange. Passengers in passing cars turned their heads to glance curiously at the four young men idling on the edge of the village in the middle of the afternoon – I had brought along Javi, from Estepa, Ezequiel, from Marinaleda, and Dave, my photographer friend from London.Eventually Mariano pulled up, parked alongside us and got out, shaking hands with everyone, cautiously friendly, but formal. Then we got back in our cars, and followed him through the winding olive groves out of town. After fifteen minutes or so he indicated a turning, a rocky dirt track cut right into the middle of the groves – so narrow that I could have reached out the window and picked the olives off the trees. The path wound slowly and bumpily up a gentle incline, to a cottage located behind high wire mesh fences topped with barbed wire.
What do You think about The Village Against The World?
