Political Spectrum

Communists in the street

Yesterday a group of marchers chanting and carrying signs walked down the Guadalupe Andador. In front of the group were photographers snapping pictures, and more at the rear following up. Their signs said they wanted schools, not soap operas (telenovelas). It was a strongly anti-PRI and anti-PAN demonstration. Last Sunday, the communists were out in force, several hundred people with red flags chanting slogans about wanting land returned to the people. They marched for several miles weaving back and forth across the city on the one-way streets. There is less traffic on Sundays, and more potential spectators out and about as Sunday is family day.

Last weekend I met a man named Quentin. We ended up at a coffee shop chatting with some of his local gringo friends about the demonstrations. A column of communists filed past. I noticed there weren't any police around, which seemed unusual to me, demonstrations can easily get out of hand. Those men said when the police are there, that's when things get out of hand! So the police watch from rooftops and with cameras, and stay out of the way, in order to keep the peace. Police presence escalates emotions. It's a lesson they've learned the hard way, and one the US could learn as well.

Anti-PRI and anti-Pan demonstrators

The demonstrations are such a contrast to the slick PRI "fiesta" just a few nights before. There were no matching shirts, no shiny advertising signs, no humorous theme songs, no food reward at the end. These were regular people, most probably in the lower levels of the socio-economic spectrum, dressed in jeans, rebozos, and the traditional Mayan costumes they wear every day.

After the parade passed I continued up the street and was stopped by a man in his forties who asked if he could practice English with me. I said, "Sure, if I can speak in Spanish to you". So we chatted. He grew up in Mexico City and was obviously fairly well educated. He was curious what I thought it was that just passed. "Looked like a political protest to me." I told him. I wasn't sure if he was curious which English words one would use to describe it, or if he actually was curious if I understood what it was. He said he thought it was a bad idea not to respect the power of the country, the leadership. The way things are is how it works, it gets things done, changing it is a bad idea. So I asked if he thought the Spaniards should still be in power? He laughed. And agreed, change can be good. He sounded like he watches too much Mexican television.

I told him I was pleased to see so many people in the streets, protesting, carrying signs, being spontaneous in their political process. That doesn't happen in the states very often any more. In order to have a protest like that, you'd need a permit and there would be police all over to make sure things don't get out of hand. Simply by protesting, one is assumed to be right on the edge of violence, in need of restraint.

Professionally produced signs you see
all over Mexico, thanking the Government
for doing it's job. In this case, for refurbishing
a market, with special thanks to a politician. 

Slick Politics

Malena and I spent the morning cleaning out all of John's stuff from the casita, packing it into bags and boxes for storage. She has a couple of men who work for her, Mariano and some other guy I don't know. Mariano is the guy who sprayed water all over at the cabana I rented last year. Click here to read that story!  Safety&SecurityInMX The men took all the boxes and did the heavy lifting, we had time finally for a long visit.

While working, we chatted mostly in Spanish. I'm amazed at the number of Mexicans who understand English but don't speak it. They've seen hundreds of American movies with subtitles and have quite large vocabularies, without the structure to string all the words together. Malena, for instance mixes he and she, him and her, and so I sometimes have trouble following who she's talking about exactly. Gossip forms a large part of our conversations!

Marco at the podium.

Malena's husband Marco works (voluntarily) for Pancho (Francisco Pedrero), a rich hotel owner who is running for President of the Municipality, like mayor of a city. In Mexico, municipalities are both cities and counties, so the number of people voting is quite large here, probably close to half a million people. Malena invited me to a political party at a house that evening. I imagined hob-nobbing with the elite of San Cristobal, sampling little antojitos served by maids and sipping wine or margaritas. Malena was all dressed up with her hair painfully straightened, makeup, high heeled boots and a cleavage blouse. We got into the VW bug and lurched our way through Friday night traffic to what was essentially a staged political rally. Red shirts with Pancho's slogans and logos printed on them were given away at the door, a mariachi band played outside, then moved inside to play, while a guy on super speakers shouted slogans at deafening levels. The floors were thick with pine needles. In Mayan country this signifies a commitment to tradition and nature, it's also a nod to the indigenous communities. The three candidates for the PRI party were Pancho, and two others running for state offices. The master of ceremonies said wonderful things about the three candidates as they entered the massive warehouse packed with red-shirted supporters. I could not have understood much of the rapid fire Spanish anyway, but amplified to those levels made it impossible. However, Malena's husband got up and gave a nice speech that became more and more animated until the crowd began to listen and then cheer. I was impressed. Marco is a good looking man, but he never struck me as the personality type to stand up in front of a thousand people and speak. However, he knows, if Pancho wins, he'll be given a government job, so I guess his future is really on the line.

Pancho schmoozing
in the crowd, the only
bald head there.

The rally was all about Pancho. He's a medium height man, but very muscular and a bit fat. He's also bald, which is unusual in Mexico. He looks like a forty-something Telly Savalas. He hugged and kissed supporters all the way down the aisle. The electronic speakers were outfitted with pre-recorded clapping which added volume and static to the crowd. The whole thing was so slick it bordered on sleazy.

After an hour of speeches and promises the loudspeakers played Pancho's theme song which had lyrics referring to his hair-do, or hair-don't in his case. People queued up for hot tamales and soda pop. My skeptical nature wondered how many people would have shown up if there hadn't been free shirts and food.


(My apologies for the poor photo quality, all I had with me was a cell phone!)

Closeup of Pancho taken on the
street a few days later