The subject of Central American migration encompasses a broad range of experiences that challenge traditional approaches to migration studies. Past interpretations of migration have tended to be based on mutually exclusive typologies or to focus on certain dimensions of migration while excluding others. Thus migration could be internal or international, cyclical, temporary, or permanent, voluntary or involuntary, economically or politically motivated (the latter issue often treated in a separate literature on refugees and exiles), motivated by “push” factors in the country of origin or “pull” factors in the receiving country, or the result of individual decisions or underlying structural conditions.

“Para el camino” Canto a la angustia y a las alegrias. Canto porque es necesario can tar para ir dejando una huella en los dias, para ir diciendo cosas prohibidas.

“For the Road” I sing of anguish and joy. I sing because it's necessary to sing to leave my mark on time, to say forbidden things.

Latin American New Song is distinct from the usual stereotypes of Latin American popular music. Songs such as “Para el camino” do not fit into the common categories of salsa, ballads, Spanish-language versions of U.S. hit songs or popularized traditional styles such as the ranchera and cumbia. Although New Song is not as well known as the more typical styles, its greater social significance has achieved an impact in Latin America far beyond the musical realm.

Most of the critical commentary on Nicaraguan poet Rubén Dario has been called forth and shaped by his being a seminal pan-Latin American and an international literary figure. Less known is the fact that for more than a century, Darío has been the focus of a much contested discourse concerning national cultural identity within Nicaragua itself. Comprehending this more limited and focused discourse requires carefully analyzing the changing cultural-political constructions that Darío's fellow Nicaraguans have placed upon his life and work, and especially the role of ideology in those constructs. Such analysis can also offer insight into the role of focal Latin American cultural figures in the negotiation of national cultural identity, especially during periods of dramatic political transformation, crisis, and reconstruction like the Somoza era (1936–1979) and the Sandinista Revolution (1961–1989).

As interest grows in examining women's lives and writings in colonial Latin America, the autobiographical accounts written by scores of nuns during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries have been undergoing a reevaluation by historians and literary critics alike. Studies of the literary production and the circumstances surrounding the life of the most famous nun of the period, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651-1695), have long been in vogue, but writings by her contemporaries have only recently caught the attention of many scholars. These colonial documents illustrate a well-established feminine literary tradition and reveal the female experience with religious institutions and spirituality: the appeal of the religious life for many women, the roles they played in the convent, and the relationships among nuns, confessors, and other members of the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. Less frequently, autobiographical accounts include significant details about the author's life before taking the veil. Although rare, such manuscripts provide information on the makeup of upper-class creole households and the roles of women in the family that helps fill the gaps in knowledge about women's daily lives in Latin America. The focus of this article is the first volume written by an Augustinian Recollect nun describing her secular life on an agricultural farm (hacienda de labor) from 1656 to 1687.

All numbers on the makeup of Peru's republican population are wrong, the one point on which historians can agree. Peruvian governments had neither the capacity nor the will to mount thorough surveys of their scattered and elusive Andean subjects. Between the late viceregal census of 1791 (reporting a population of 1,076,000) and the first modern effort of 1876 (yielding a count of 2,699,000) lies a century of demographic no man's land, despite partial surveys claimed for 1812, 1836, 1850, and 1862. Unfortunately, historians cannot fly back in time and redo the head counts missed or mismanaged by successive governments, although this miracle has seemingly been worked for the older Incan and conquest periods.1 The best scholars can attempt at this point is to untangle the confusions of existing census documents and bring new evidence to bear on their strengths and weaknesses.

In the Andean field, social scientists and historians have only recently begun to ask “how peasants make politics” (Montoya 1986) or how they have “engaged their political worlds” (Stern 1987, 9). In the past, Andean peasants were frequently viewed as living outside politics or as being sporadic players at best on the stage of politics—albeit as reactive or perhaps millenarian rebels aligned against the state. When peasants did make a political showing, they were inevitably represented by the tactically mobile “middle peasantry” or independent smallholders (see Wolf 1969). In contrast, “traditional” estate peasants (service tenantry) were characterized as relatively passive, “prepolitical” victims. Further along the path of historical development and social differentiation, it was generally held, these same “prepolitical” peasants were brought into the post-feudal world of “modern political movements,” where they were soon endowed with “political consciousness” (see Hobsbawm 1959). In probing the ambiguous but historically significant “middle ground” between these extreme and rather static images of “politically modern” peasants and “prepolitical victims,” this article will raise a different set of questions. The middle ground can be found at the intersection of Herrschaft (domination) and Gemeinschaft (community) on the Andean hacienda in capitalist transition. Analysis of this middle ground reveals a highly contested terrain where the idioms of peasants' everyday political agency resound. This resonance from below, however, presents interpretive as well as political ambiguities.

Brazil today constitutes one of the major manufacturers of microcomputers in the world, a seemingly surprising feat for a country that many view as part of the Third World. How was it possible for a developing nation like Brazil to create a high-technology industry and join the exclusive club of highly industrialized countries like the United States, Japan, and Germany as one of the major manufacturers of computers? Many political scientists, economists, and sociologists have tried to explain this exceptional phenomenon in primarily political terms. Most have studied the rise of nationalistic technocrats who began in the mid-1970s to implement a series of regulations that made it possible for Brazilian manufacturers to monopolize the domestic markets for minicomputers and microcomputers.

It has been well documented that structural changes in the capitalist world system during the second half of the nineteenth century generated profound consequences for peripheral economies such as those in Latin America and Africa. Improvements in transportation and the increasing demand for tropical consumer goods in the industrializing countries caused unprecedented growth in the production of tropical export crops and a consequent international movement of agricultural commodities. This widespread emergence of export agriculture for Western European and North American markets is the one reason why researchers can still employ a broad concept like the “Third World” to divergent economies and cultures in Latin America, Africa, and Asia. Production of such crops as cotton, cocoa, tobacco, and coffee, which had previously been grown in many regions on a limited scale, expanded enormously in the second half of the nineteenth century. The global character of these agrarian changes, however, should not obscure their regional peculiarities. Export agriculture (whether peasant-or plantation-based) arose within existing systems of social and economic relations, which had a decisive influence on the final outcome of this process of change.