Impossible!

So it's finally come down to the closing statements of this long and draining trial. Emotions are tense, the large audience all on the edge of their seats. Yet, the judges seemed attentive to the presentation before them: Alert.

The gray bearded, gimped-up-old geyser who represented the stance of the numerous plaintiffs, a rather windy old fart, had done a quite thorough job in justifying that side's views on this case. Never had a Plano Definitivo drawn up for any ejido, by the Reforma Agraria, been so outrageously dissected, publicly, in the history of Mexico. The trial of a "Plano Definitivo," this was something new and it had grabbed the attentions of a vast audience. Thus the reason for the battery of TV cameras that kept focused on the drama that was playing out there before them.

The make-shift courtroom, a hastily altered jumbo-jet airliner hanger, required an immense witness section with seating for hundreds. The old geyser had requested, and received, a large theater screen upon which to splash relative documents, aerial views and considerable video footage. He'd presented a show that had been revealing, dramatic. The spectators' gallery, filled to its huge capacity, seemed packed to point popping rivets in that immense structure's metal skin. What a spectacle it had, this far into things, been.

The tactic of utilizing the ariel photos and video footage had seemed quite effective. The big screen could split, displaying El Plano Definativo for Ejido San Jose De La Noria on the left side, reality on the right. At each glaring error on that Plano that gray headed old codger had obviously been getting a kick out of pointing out the obvious.

He'd started on the south boundary of what the Reforma Agraria had drawn up, an elongated, narrow and rectangular shaped property that was marked "Timbabachi." With accurate topo map flashed on screen he then located the small village of Timbabichi...some considerable distance south of where that Plano held it. He displayed the aerial and ground level footage then of the opposing positioning. All of this to that large panel of witnesses that comprised most of the adult population along a stretch of coastline that ran from Ensenada Blanca to Rancho Dolores. And, naturally, all those that could see over the heads of that throng in that gallery could view this, too.

This he followed with the simplest of questioning. He ask for those witnesses who knew where "Timbabichi" actually was, who'd lived there or had visited there numerous times, to please raise their hands, take an oath to tell the truth. Almost all the hands went up, including a number who were ejido members. Then he asked them to vote on what they'd just been shown. It came as no surprise to this questioner when they all opted for reality's side.

When it was their turn, the opposition stated that they felt no need to ask questions of this unimportant crowd. Their opinion, firmly stated by the Delagada of the Reforma Agraria, was that reality was irrelevant! Plano Definitivo was Plano Definativo! And it couldn't be changed!

The dogged old man went on to his next exhibit on that Plano, its positioning further north of where Timbabichi had been drawn in. Exhibit #2 was Rancho Santa Marta: 500 hectars with no listed owner. Again the topo map location and clear camera footage. Then essentially the same questions to the sworn witnesses. And, predictably, he'd gotten the same reaction. They all said that Santa Marta was where it really was, not where that Plano put it.

"Irrelevant! Irrelevant!" was the terse Delagada's only reply.

She really couldn't help it, this Delagada, this creature of an old and slowly dying system. She's a die-hard loyal party woman, who's whole adult life had been structured by the entity she'd chosen to make a career of. It had seemed the only sane career option, so many years back when she'd entered this seeming "forever" form of security. The bureacracy, walk the party line; a sure way to make it.

She really hadn't considered the possibility of significant change during her career's life span. And, insulated from reality as she had been, she was reluctant to accept that just such a thing was indeed sweeping her old, antiquated system into history's dust bin. The fact that Mexicans, in mass, had longed for and voted for sweeping change either hadn't reached her yet, or she just couldn't accept it. Perhaps it was beyond her mental imagery. Her heels were dug in. Until the end she'd keep to that disastrous heading.

Upon the screen went the next exhibit: A block of what that Plano depicted as "Predio Innuminado;" 200 hectars. This property with no name sent a wave of confusion through the witnesses. In truth, none of them had any recollection of ever having been there, nor had they heard anything about it. Unlike some other properties on that Plano, which were named, this one had no named owner attached to it, either.

What that geyser had read into the court record about this was that after years of questioning the Reforma Agraria innumerable times about this lack of reference to owner, that organization had never been able to come up with any answers. None of those assembled witnesses could come up with helping information, either.

That Delagada had strenuously objected to this line of inquiry. She'd screamed that she wanted the judge to stricken this from the proceeding's official record. "Irrelevant! Irrelevant!" She cried out almost hysterically. Her reaction getting grunts of approval from a small cluster of onlookers there in that packed gallery.

This small cluster, by the way, was made up of those who definitely had something to gain if El Plano Definativo triumpted. Some of them, this writer is sure, had had a hand in its formulation. There sat Carlos Rondero, the former 1st secretary of the governor who ruled S. Baja when that Plano was drafted. Next to him was Elijo Soto Lopez, who'd been the Presidante de Municipal and had held sway in the Municipal of Comondu, which this Agua Verde area then was part of; and who was appointed Delagado of the Reforma Agraria; this after the Delagado who had been in charge of that agency during that Plano's construction, Jose Luis Cholet, had had to flee S. Baja because of numerous exposures of his grand corruptions.

Too, in this contingent that were that Plano's staunch supports, there was the small cable of Ejido San Jose De La Noria members who'd assisted that Plano's drafters in getting El Definitivo accepted by the full ejido membership. Four or five of them obvious there; the ones who'd known how to read and interpret something from a map-like perspective. This enabling them to sell that Plano's recognition to the considerably less talented rank and file members. Yes, there sat the likes ofFish-Truck Vincente and Francisco Savin in that tight cluster.

And certainly those who were hoping to cash in on that Plano's placement of boundaries were assembled there with this faction, also. Those who'd, for a song, bought ejido rights from those whom, in desperation had sold them; those who'd bought those bogus parcels that Francisco Savin and his false Ingeniro buddy had cooked up. Yes. Eriberto Chavez, Saul Trojillo, Victor, that chaparito from Cd. Constitucion, characters like that sat there, them not caring if there be theft or corruptions involved, them only thinking of quick profit, greed. Yes, certainly, they were obvious there, too.

The white-haired one with control of the screen moved up coast to a property that was labeled "Agua Verde": 375 hectars and supposedly owned by Maria Del Refugio Rondero. As to where this was marked on that Plano and where Agua Verde actually was, with those witnesses, there was absolutely no disaccord nor confusion. The old one there, him more or less taking on the manner of prosecutor, even though that wasn't his true function, made a point of pointing this out. If indeed this property did exist, it was the only one of the properties along that Plano's considerable stretch of Sea of Cortez coastline...that was in such condition: In the right place and with owner.

His strategy with this Agua Verde property was not an attack on it positioning, but rather the documentation as to just who owner actually was, and if that claimed ownership was indeed legitimate. He read to the court a statement that Carlos Rondero, that former 1st. secretary, had made in regards to a Rondero ownership claim. This statement read that a long dead aunt of his had bought it from a long dead Sr. Quijano, who at that long ago time was the owner of a Rancho "Palo Blanco," which this Agua Verde chunk was part of. The proof was a hand written note, just a mere scrap of paper. The old one pointed out there were no witnesses to this transaction, nor was there any verification that the signatures were legitimate. Then he went into the fact that Plano Definitivo didn't even recognize the existence of any rancho by the name of Palo Blanco (this besides the sub-fact that the family Quijano has papers for just such a rancho which pre-date the formation of the ejido).

"How could a property that the Reforma Agraria viewed as legitimate...spring from one that they did not recognize? Wasn't this like a baby being born without a mother? " were questions that he asked that high-strung Delagada.

"Irrelevant! your honor!" she shrilly screeched. "Must I be humiliated by this insane line of questioning?" The judge, after admonishing the hooting and howling majority in the gallery, stated for the record that he'd take this into consideration.

This writer, watching that would-be prosecutor as the show proceeded, couldn't help but get the feeling that that old fart was having fun with this. On the big screen flashed a property by name of "Ojo De Agua De San Isidro"; this a squarish block of 256 hectars supposedly owned by Maria Villalejo that was not along the coastline but, rather, back in the mountains. The screen split to depict the difference of its positioning on that Plano and reality. This time the difference wasn't quite as extreme as with some of the earlier mentioned misplacements, but, still, it was obvious.

Of the witness box he asked for a raise of hands of those from either Agua Verde or Puerto Agua Verde. A large number of arms did raise. He asked those from there if they understood where their drinking water came from? "Si!" they all answered. He asked them to tell the court then where, exactly, that was. "Ojo De Agua De San Isidro!" their combined shouts rose. He showed them video footage of a black plastic tube that ran from their village pila...all the long way up arroyo Agua Verde...until it reached a palm-tree-filled canyon with a large pool of standing water. He asked if they recognized what they saw, and, again, "Si!" All those who'd ever been up there understood that to be Ojo De Agua De San Isidro.

Jumping in here the Delagada objected to that ridiculous line of superfluous questioning. Ojo De Agua De San Isidro was where her precious Plano said it was, whether there was water there or not! And of course there wasn't a drop where it laid there inked in. "Irrelevant! Plano Definativo can't be wrong!" She hadn't quite been driven hysterical yet...but she was getting closer.

Next exhibit displayed was a property depicted as Punta Pasquel, 324 hectars, and purportedly owned by one Arsceno Garcia. Except for an obscure rocky point way down coast that had never been inhabited, there was no reference to a Punta Pasquel on topo map. Of the assembled witnesses he questioned if anyone there, even the very oldest, had ever heard of a Rancho Punta Pasquel?

"No." Even the oldest one there, an ancient old lady who been born in an Agua Verde cave, stated that around camp fires in her youth, never had a Rancho Punta Pasquel been mentioned, this even though where it had been drawn in on that Plano was within easy walking distance from where she'd grown up. She added that where it was there on El Definativo, in her mind, had been land of the Quijanos', where they still occupied that Palo Blanco spread.

He questioned them, too, as to this stated owner, El Sr. Arsencio Garcia: Had anyone there ever known of him; perhaps, once upon a time...seen him? There wasn't one there that had even a clue as to this character. "No existe! No existe!" numerous of those there in that huge chamber started to chant.

"Irrelevant! Irrelevant!" the Delagada frothed and fumed. "Of course Rancho Punta Pasquel had existed. That's why it was marked there on that Plano! Certainly this Sr. Garcia can be explained!" she stammered. That old man, having searched for him for years already, openly chuckled.

"Your Honor!" she lashed out. "Do I have to accept this snide behavior from this pichi grin...'em, Northe Americano!?"

The Judge did request that that old one refrain from open laughter.

The last property drawn in on that Plano was marked "El Carrizalito," 526 hectars, again with no listed owner. Again the topo map was consulted, the aerial and on-ground film footage displayed.

"How many of you," he asked of those witnesses, "know the place that the camera has recorded here?" Again almost all hands went up. Using his long pointer he drew their attentions to a quite prominent coastal point, a huge and impossible to mistake up-thrusting of hard granite rock. "Can you tell me what this is known as?" he quarried. "Punta Carrizaltio!" got shouted out by almost all. To a lovely half-moon beach then he drew them. "What about this?" "Playa Carrizalito!" the vast majority responded. "And here up this arroyo where we can see this small stream of sweet water?" "Ojo De Agua De Carrizalito!" All those who'd ever been there, a considerable number, hollered out. "How many of you have ever lived there?" He questioned further.

To this he got quite a number of respondents. There was a group who claimed to have been born there. There was an old woman, Big Maria from Agua Verde, who claimed a number of her children had been born there.

"And this spot up the coastline where the Reforma Agraria has drawn in what they claim is El Carrizalito...how many of you have visited or lived or been born in that spot?"

Naturally, this wily old fox knew the answer to that one. None. And that's what all there indicated. No. there was no drinking water there. Nobody could live there very long. They would have had to have walked a long way just to get a drink. There was absolutely no evidence that habitation had ever happened there either. None. "No, that couldn't be Carrizalito," they sang out in unison.

After this final dose of reality that poor Delagada really lost it. "Irrelevant! Irrelevant! Impossible! Plano Definitivo is Plano Definitivo and that's the law and it can't be changed! Ever! Not in a thousand years! And...."

The gallery, all except that faction who'd gain if the lie of El Definativo stood, sent up a cheer when two men dressed in hospital white threw a large net over this poor, raging, deranged public official. One of them administered a shot in her buttocks then and in only moments she lay there sedated, that crowd still hooting it up.

"Order! Order in this court room!" the Judge shouted to no avail.

"I rest my case!" that old man hollered over the din of clapping hands and stomping feet.

That Judge, swishing his black robe, stammered back that he'd take all evidence presented into consideration, as he scurried for the door right behind his bench.

"Guilty! Guilty!" rose up from the vast majority who witnessed this spectacle. "Definitivo is one big lie!" got hollered out over and over.

The TV stations that had been honed in on this action did a quick opinion poll of their viewing audience right after the show broke up. They found that almost overwhelmingly they'd stated that they didn't want the future, their futures, dictated to or muddied up by corruptons of the past. 100% questioned preferred reality over official corruptions.

Gosh. What a surprise....

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com