by Bluetown Trevino
November 5, 2010: the revolution is underway.
30,000 people murdered in a country controlled by no one. In Mexico, cities have been taken over by mob rule, uncontested out of fear. Daily, sworn officials attacked by heavily armed militants in broad day. Today, the good guys and the bad guys dress the same. It’s just another day of cultural terrorism.
The United States is the market, the target, the reason for the rise. Violence, is overt and clandestine. Mexicans contra Mexicanos. Los Federales, keepers of law and order; united, decided, undivided. Combined with, gun- wielding, family defending pistoleros; joined by, Las Marinas (Navy) de Los Esatados Unidos de Mexico, trained tall and proud. $30 million is given by the US federal government to help fight the drug war.
Los Zetas, separatists, ruthless, cruel, devastating. Inflictors of incredible harm, perpetually at war. Warriors schooled in sabotage techniques… modern day Spanish Conquistadores, associated with international terrorists attempting to overthrow, with intentions of taking complete control. Every school, hospital, bus stop, strip center, work place, or home could be the next target. It is just a matter of time.
Tia Lupita, sits in a Matamoros bus station terminal. All ticket sales counters are closed. The shootouts (balasos) have stopped all transportation into and out of the city. The calles (streets) are empty, Lupita has just walked to the central station along the back roads to avoid getting caught in the chaotic crossfire. A major Gulf Cartel leader has just been killed, more deaths will surely follow.
***
An early fall sun shines life on an organic herb and rose colored garden. Brisk Laguna Madre winds ruffle the Mexico, Texas, and United States flags outlining the yard. Lucy, ( sits at the Cherrywood dining table, with her visiting older sister Lupita. They sip hot Nescafe, eat tamales de Vera Cruz, charlar (chat) about all they can think of. They exchange story after story. It’s been over six months since their last visit. Lupita has come all the way from the metropolis of Reynosa, Tamaulipas. She crosses the bridge in Matamoros to Brownsville just twenty-six miles from the front porch where the sign reads: Bienvenidos: Casa de Familia Martin Rosas, 1831 Gardenia Ave, Port Isabel Texas, where her sister lives. She is a long ways from variegated periwinkle lined walls of The Familia: Jesus Rodriguez Calderon, Calle Olmos, numero 317-A, Colonia Balcones de Alcala, Reynosa, Tamaulipas, Mexico…
Shots blast muffled, yet sharp in the distance. Steady rounds of AK-47’s are fired; occasional staccato pistol shots fill the lulls in between. Intense by brief battles rage impulsive and erratic. A convoy of accelerating vehicles files out of the gated warehouse. There is no sign of Mexican authorities. Here, it’s unsure who’s fighting whom. Tires screech, engines roar, weapons ring out their cries. Bullets, search for targets. Reason searches for a way out. Everyone else caught in the brutal crossfire.
It’s just another day, in the days of the revolutionary war – La Revolucion de 2000. By the day’s end a major catel leader will be dead, three Mexican government officials will be dead, and more than thirty will be hurt, caught in the crossfire. At noon, a reporter will be killed in cold blood; 4 pm two more will be gunned down at a busy strip center. The list goes on and on; the hits don’t stop. Nothing can stop the revolutionary war – La Revolucion de 2000.
6 pm, Friday, Nov. 5, Lupita calls her sister:
“No Susy, cruce el Puente, en media hora lo cerraron. Los buses, ni peseras operaron sus rutas. Tuve que caminar hasta el centro en el medio de la balacera. Ahora ne me voy a ningun lado. Espero que baja el peligro para seguir en el camino a Reynosa, pero ne se.”
No Susy, the bridge closes in half an hour. The buses and the peseras aren’t running either. I had to walk downtown in the middle of a shoot-out. I’m not going anywhere now. I’ll wait till things calm down before going on to Reynosa, but who can say?
7 pm Tio Chuy calls Lucy, in tears, casi llorando.:
“No y aqui tambien, Lucy, en Reynosa cerraron las calles, estan basillos. La gente enceradas en sus casas y las tiendas todas cerraradas por miedo. Mataron uno de los más chingones del cartel. Va aver venganza – sin duda. Lupita está lejos y no se va llegar o ni adonde esta. Que tal sin algo le pasa. No sé si ella está bien o si algo le he pasado.”
It’s the same here Lucy. They’ve closed the roads in Reynosa. Nobodies moving. The businesses are all closed and the people ate hiding in their houses. Some of the big cartels guys are dead. There’s going to be payback. Lupita is somewhere, we don’t know where and we don’t know when she’ll arrive. I don’t know if she’s safe or if something has happened
Cold green pastel paint absorbs the echo of silence. No passengers trod the floors; no voice over calling departures or arrivals; no workers anywhere. The still stagnant air intensifies, hard plastic, black metal benches hold stranded passengers of the revolution. Lupita thinks of the peace in the organic rose colored garden on Gardenia Ave.
Fueled by greed, motivated by greed, locked in and sold out to greed. Not Mexican, not American – human, man, or homo-sapien. Addicted to drugs, guns, power. The others the majority, are always hungry, forever starved of the opportunity, risking all for a change, a chance. The two vie for power, as God and Satan in the kingdom of Heaven, in the battle of light against the encroaching dark. And still, the song remains the same, A the last, nothing is more sure than change – the revolution.
The always so very helpful and friendly United States neighbor sits by with looking like the cat that ate the canary . . . holding out the check book. Weapons for murders of over 30,000 – US made and sold; drugs in mass quantities, also weapons of mass destruction, mainly marijuana and cocaine – purchased by US citizens/populations. $36 million in US aide funded by the citizens, given by the government to “aide” Mexico in the war on drugs and crime – financed by the controlling supply and demand factors of illegal drugs- by Americans.
Car horns honk over the busy streets. A fleet of Mexican military vehicles with armed weapons rages down the dusty broken road in a hurry. Chuy and Lupita sip spirits from the dark brown bottle filled with yellow spirits and written in words of blue- Corona!
Susy plays with the soft black kitten and looks at the radiant organic rose colored garden. The revolution continues. A family vacation is planned this summer to Mexico. Who knows when the two sisters will meet again?
And the revolution, of Mexico 2010 continues today, as 100 years ago, as 100 from now. As it was in the beginning, it so shall be in the end. The Revolutionary War of 2000 – change.
