Estepa

A little way towards Malaga, I came across the small town of Marinaleda. This was or is famous for being a successful Communist town.
As in Emiglia Romana after WW2, a Communists was elected Mayor in 1962 to enable the town to survive as a community.

It all started in 1979 when Juan Manuel Sanchez Gordillo, the local Mayor, started a campaign for land reforms. After 12 years of strikes and and land occupation, the regional government granted the El Humosa farmhouse and 1200 hectares of land, which an absentee landlord had allowed to remain uncultivated whilst 60% of the locals were unemployed and living in poverty, to the village. On this they formed a cooperative to grow vegetables and later process food.

This cooperative provided employment to the unemployed folk as well as the funds for cooperative housing developments. Unfortunately, it was not enough and they also relied, particularly out of season, on the government job finder's allowance. The mayor proved inimicable to new, private ventures and many of the youngsters have to leave to find work and to further their ambitions.

Whilst the politics might be iffy, the establishment of co-operative ventures has worked - an example is this olive processing co-op.

How Communist the place is now is a mute point. Nobody would say anything about it.

Probably it's a moot point as the reality of poverty or pastoral economics has curtailed the civic ardour of the population. The dry, cracked ponds and faded paintwork in the extensive municipal gardens worthy of a small city, and the sole gardener in a struggle with decent weeds, reveals the collapse of an initial optimism.

Perhaps the two sets of infrequently used, outdoor exercise equipment suggest that this is a function of population size rather than the lack of money indicated by the rusty flag pole flanked by 12 stained concrete 1.5m high Doric pillars found on top of the hill.

A nice - albeit rather fascist - touch is provided by this amphitheatre which can even be flooded to about a metre and sits alongside the oversized sports arena.

Searching for the biblioteca I entered the Citizens' Social Centre where a committee of elderly workers were enjoying a small "tinto" and a game of cards in the cavernous, concrete bar hall. The municipal library was upstairs and evoked the feeling of a past era wistfully remembered. Partly this was due to the chain and padlock closing the two entrance doors like the site of an abandoned industry, but also because the rectangular, sepia toned, room was divided into three by wooden panelling made from the type of erratically tinted plywood made in the 40's. The area by the door was empty of furniture and through a glass window the morning sun illuminated a pile of ragged paper books lying piled on a shelf like in a proletarian sitting room. A glimpse of pre-Wall Dresden came to mind.

Nothing else to say about it really.Read more