The blood of the people
More than sadness fills me today. I am reading about the road I took through the mountains, the tragedy that happened several days ago on the very path I was on yesterday. 15 people killed in a "shoot-out" between police and drug dealers, including a 5 month old baby and her mother.
I wonder what the people of that town thought when I drove in. Often when I stopped, I heard "estados undidos" spoken softly. At the time, I didn't think much of it, except that people don't often voice my country of origin the minute they see me.
Now I know the people were and are in shock. Most people in Mexico pride themselves over living "muy tranquilo". They don't have names for the waves of repeated violence like we have in the u.s.
One man, warning me not to go into these very mountains, told me if I have something "they" want, they will block the road, throw me out of the truck, and take off.
He was startled when I told him that happens so often in the u.s. we have a name for it: car jacking. Only I couldn't translate the "jacking" into spanish.
As I sit in the coffee shop, connected to the internet, and read about this violence, I hear a sudden crunch of a crash. Traffic diverts itself and gradually comes to a stop.
Laying on the ground is a man, sprawled several feet from his upright motorcycle that has the total front end smashed in such a way that it still stands.
The womon next to me is calling the ambulance. Men working close by as guards of one sort or another, have gathered around this still figure.
I see no helmet, but I also see no odd configuration of bones, as I have witnessed when I once saw a man hit by a car. And I see no blood. Maybe he will be okay.
The cars that can't see why traffic is stopped begin to honk frantically - worse than 5th Ave in New York during rush hour.
Several cars, pick-up trucks, and motorcycles attempt to go up on the sidewalk to get around the "congestion", not considering the fact that a human being is laying on the road, maybe fighting for his life, definitely hurt terribly.
It takes the police minutes to arrive. It takes the ambulance what seems like much longer but I see they have arrived within 10 minutes.
By the time the ambulance pulls up, the police have the body sectioned off and traffic moving - maybe not in the direction the cars had intended, by they're moving.
As the ambulance pulls off, a large tow truck is already in place, picking up the pieces of the bike.
When I cross the street, much later, I see the crumpled plastic fender and a limp, blue piece of cloth - the only evidence that a life might have been taken at this intersection.
I wonder what the people of that town thought when I drove in. Often when I stopped, I heard "estados undidos" spoken softly. At the time, I didn't think much of it, except that people don't often voice my country of origin the minute they see me.
Now I know the people were and are in shock. Most people in Mexico pride themselves over living "muy tranquilo". They don't have names for the waves of repeated violence like we have in the u.s.
One man, warning me not to go into these very mountains, told me if I have something "they" want, they will block the road, throw me out of the truck, and take off.
He was startled when I told him that happens so often in the u.s. we have a name for it: car jacking. Only I couldn't translate the "jacking" into spanish.
As I sit in the coffee shop, connected to the internet, and read about this violence, I hear a sudden crunch of a crash. Traffic diverts itself and gradually comes to a stop.
Laying on the ground is a man, sprawled several feet from his upright motorcycle that has the total front end smashed in such a way that it still stands.
The womon next to me is calling the ambulance. Men working close by as guards of one sort or another, have gathered around this still figure.
I see no helmet, but I also see no odd configuration of bones, as I have witnessed when I once saw a man hit by a car. And I see no blood. Maybe he will be okay.
The cars that can't see why traffic is stopped begin to honk frantically - worse than 5th Ave in New York during rush hour.
Several cars, pick-up trucks, and motorcycles attempt to go up on the sidewalk to get around the "congestion", not considering the fact that a human being is laying on the road, maybe fighting for his life, definitely hurt terribly.
It takes the police minutes to arrive. It takes the ambulance what seems like much longer but I see they have arrived within 10 minutes.
By the time the ambulance pulls up, the police have the body sectioned off and traffic moving - maybe not in the direction the cars had intended, by they're moving.
As the ambulance pulls off, a large tow truck is already in place, picking up the pieces of the bike.
When I cross the street, much later, I see the crumpled plastic fender and a limp, blue piece of cloth - the only evidence that a life might have been taken at this intersection.
posted by Xan @ 9:46 AM
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