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July 1960 - Andalusia Province, Kingdom of Spain
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The sun beat down on the Spanish countryside, the temperatures rising steadily into the high 40's as workers scuttled for home, or in most cases, the pub. Here, protected by heavy stones painted with white plaster, many of them would spend the hottest hours of the afternoon playing cards while nursing a beer pulled from the recently installed refrigerator. There was only one in pub in down simply called Pacos. It was owned by Paco, son of Paco, son of Paco and so on. Even the current Paco still tended bar with some help from his son, Paco. All in all it was terribly confusing to outsiders but the locals didn't mind.
 
There was a lively debate raging about the one room space, the thirty or so men crowded into its space offering their various opinions on the state of politics in the country. Truth be told, none of them, not even the two uniformed police officers in the corner, really knew what they were talking about but they all understood the short stick when they were getting it. 
 
"The fucking Royal Council." Snarled one farmer. He was broad in the shoulders, his hands heavily calloused from labouring in the fields and olive groves. "They talk of levying a new "road tax" to pay for the roads in to our village. I still wonder where the "improvements tax" has been going since there is nothing of the sort around here!"
 
Several other farmers pounded their tables and chanted "Here here!" in approval. Others shrugged and looked down at their drinks. This was the way it usually went during the hot hours of the day. They would all come together and someone would rant about the situation in the country, the new taxes, the King and his playboy ways, the corruption of the Royal Council. It rarely altered at all.
 
"It doesn't have to be that way." A voice said quietly from the bar and everyone turned to find Paco Junior staring out over the counter top at them. He was a handsome lad, not more than a week over eighteen, and already he had been into Antequera to see the greater world beyond. The big farmer raised an eyebrow. The boy might be young but this was his fathers business and manners had to be maintained.
 
"What do you mean, Paco?" His father prompted from further down the far. The young man licked his lips and looked about the room at all the faces turned toward him. Even the two policemen appeared to be listening.
 
"I met a man in Antequera. He said that we, the people, should have the ability to chose the taxes we pay, the places we can go. It isn't fair that we cannot leave our region as the government says. It isn't right that they can just demand more money of us while they horde their own Pesetas!"
 
There was a genuine grumble of approval now. No man liked paying taxes and they certainly enjoyed it even less when they were paying it to a group  of wealthy landowners who already took a quarter of their yearly income for the "rental" of the land they lived on.
 
"This land should be our own." Said another farmer as he nodded toward Paco. "Why can I not own my own land?"
 
"It will never change." Retorted the Baker, he was always a pessimist.
 
"But it is changing." This time one of the police officers had spoken and everyone fell silent as he took a long pull at his beer. "This is not the first village we have heard this in. Everywhere we go there are rumblings of this change. The demand for the right to own land. To go back to how things were under the old King. And," He paused, then grinned. "We agree too. Our families are farmers as well. We have children, uncles, nephews, all of them deserve the right to be their own master. This is 1960 by god! Not the dark ages."
 
This passionate outburst from the embodiment of justice and order brought a furious round of cheers from the gathered farmers. The policeman held up his hand to quiet them down and then looked them over, one by one, meeting their eyes as he did so.
 
"Pick one among you who will represent your village and I will provide you to a travel pass to Malaga where there is to be a meeting of those who feel like you. After all, we are all comrades in a  greater struggle."