Meeting with the Presidente

So it's my chance, finally. Because of an A.M. high tide, we've stationed the truck at San Cosme. The brisk two-mile walk over there, with the trails up and downs, has us well exercised by the time we reach Alejo's place. We're running just a little early, actually, so there's time to converse with members of the family. We're making sure truck is ready, very close to jumping in and heading up and out of area when Justo, in his very relaxed and nonchalant way, walks up and flatly states that the Delagada has passed the word that the Presidente is going to be showing up in Agua Verde, that morning.

This throws me for a moment. I understand Justo very well. He has a way of speaking that simply doesn't confuse me but still I find myself sayin', "What?"

Yes. I'd heard him right. The Delagada, knowing I had an appointment to talk with the Presidente at noon, had received word that he was coming there. After a moments reflection I was sure glad she'd passed the message. As the lights started flashing on...our morning plans unraveled there.

What to do? How to play this thing? Both Marcia and me stood there kicking our toes into loose gravel. Obviously, us going to Loreto was out. And...if the Presidente was going to Agua Verde, that meant he had to pass right by there. Chayo, Guadalupe, Alejo, they'd all sorta joined us in our speculations. Would he stop there? we kicked that around for a while. They didn't think so, but you never could tell. Chayo stated that the only time politicians stopped at San Cosme was when they were campaigning for office. Guadalupe softly laughed that that was certainly true. We became of like minds that best thing to do was wait and see what unfolded.

Marcia spread her time between searching for still-missing things in our road trailer, parked right next to restaurante, and spells of visiting in Guadalupe's kitchen. Chayo and me drifted off to his second home, old-trailer casa which he and Maria and daughter Mari, off and on, still occupy. Neither of us wanting to just let idle time slide by, we decided to sort through a pile of sacks filled with purple oyster shells.

Even though Chayo's shell activities aren't completely legitimate yet, it doesn't look like he's making much effort at disguising what he's up to. In the shade of his roofed-over conglomeration we back his small pickup and drop tailgate so I have an elevated platform to work from. One sack per wheel barrel load he moves shells to pickup bed where I rapidly grade through them. Purple oysters are rather large, clunky things. A thousand of them makes a considerable mound, that's what was supposta be there. He'd bought them for one peso each. I was only trying to pull out the very best, maybe top ten-percent that could be worked into fine jewelry easily; small, very solid ones. All the rest would be cut to salvage usable pieces. Fast as he could load my workstation I rifled on through these.

Maybe we're at this for an hour and three quarters through the job when the rumble of downhill traffic alerts us to the possibility of some change in action. A blue pickup comes into view with official markings in white on door. Not too far behind it's followed by a red one, then a white one, and then one that Chayo is sure is a Loreto police vehicle. He tells me that the Presidente doesn't travel anywhere without this protection.

My plan, if it seems that this assemblage is simply passing by, is to, in some way, hail the Presidente's vehicle, the red one, to momentarily halt. A few passing words with this gentleman I hoped would serve my purpose. I was on the move towards the road above the kitchen when that lead carro sped past. "Shout and wave!" I hollered to those working there on Guadalupe's new kitchen; the head mason and his three younger assistants.

All of us hollering and swinging hats did nothing to slow that lead vehicle. "Run up to the road!" Martin and Justo are hollering at me and that's what I'm attempting but because of the loose rubble of that construction project I suffer some confusion in my efforts and before I make it even halfway up steep slope the red pickup sped past, all those down below me still waving hats and shouting. Newer model, air conditioned pickups. All they'd seen sealed in like they were was this enthused crowd reacting to their presence. Chayo joked that those politicos most likely thought they were receiving a rousing vote of approval. We laughed that that's how we must have looked.

They didn't slow for distant driveway entrance and after they crossed arroyo San Cosme we saw them all in same order as they climbed up atop close-by mesa and then out of sight.

Well...no sense being in a rush. I certainly wasn't going chasing after that procession. "How long do these visits to Agua Verde usually last?" I ask Chayo.

"Two, maybe two and a half hours," is what he gives me back.

What the heck! We're at the restaurante San Cosme. We order up a breakfast. Chayo and me go back to those shells, polish off the job before our food is ready. Don't remember what we had. Only that it must have been good. We didn't speed eat our way through it, 'cause we weren't in hurry. With all the talking going on inside that old kitchen I couldn't just concentrate on my plate, anyway, as is my norm.

We speculated about the reason for the Presidente's sudden decision to visit far-off Agua Verde. Chayo had identified that lead blue pickup as belonging to some form of governmental give-away program. Its box had been heaped up high with plastic sacks filled with something. "Food," that's what he tells me they're most likely giving away.
My guess is that we gave our target at least an hour and a half lead time...before we headed off in that direction. We were curious as to just what was goin' down. Plan was to get there and observe from a distance, and then, when the opportunity presented itself...I'd move in and introduce myself, and beg for just a few minutes of the Presidente's precious time, when he cruised back by San Cosme. What the heck. This seemed worth a try.

Marcia, Chayo and me. As we close on Puerto Agua Verde we encounter three young ladies from Agua Verde, all dressed up and headed same way as us. Obvious it was that they were going to whatever it was, so we stopped and, laughingly, they jumped in back. As we came over separating hill between there and Puerto, got to where we could look down into most of it, no large gathering of people could we spot. Something must be going on across arroyo where we can't see, over by the Delagada's casa, that's what we then speculated. As we got down into things and made the turn to head in that hidden direction the three in back indicated that they wanted out...us thinking this strange, because we couldn't see why.

We get over in the area where the Delagada lives and find things even deader over there than where we'd just been. Not many places you could hide even a small gathering anywhere in Puerto. We back truck and in so doing stop to talk to Juanito, Chayo's brother-in-law. From him we get the scoop that the Delagada's up at the crest of close-up mountains where a dedication ceremony is taking place for the new road that has just linked Agua Verde to San Jose De La Noria. He tells us that she's with the governor up there. Junaito doesn't know anything about the Presidente's visit.

In some confusion we head back to other side of arroyo. In this further back tracking Chayo spots those four vehicles that had sped past at San Cosme, all parked in a casa's yard that would have been hard to see into when heading in our previous direction. What puzzled us as we closed was that there was no crowd in sight. I speculated that maybe the Presidente went up on top for that event up there but Chayo didn't think so.

We pull up and park, us quite conspicuous, there being almost none but those who'd arrived in those four vehicles hanging in the area. The owner of the casa, Lo Lo, and his wife were there. But I didn't see any other Agua Verde faces. We're still settin' there in cab, us lookin' out at the Presidente's entourage, who are all seeming just hanging out, killin' time. Back under the shade of Lo Lo's palm thatch Chayo points out the Presidente, who, by the way, he's on very good term with. Chayo likes the guy, assures me that he's quite approachable.

We'd see. Chayo and I get out; Marcia hangs in the cab. As we walk past those leaning on those four carros we exchange good mornings and nobody makes any move to intercept us. Lo Lo comes out from under his thatch and shakes hands with the two of us. Freely then we advance right up to the head man of this whole huge area, who's leaning up against roof support post and just sorta bullshittin' with a couple of what look to be his close side kicks.

The introduction - "Good morning, I'm David Smith, I had an appointment with you today at noon" - and handshake go down real easy. Chayo was right, he's a really relaxed, good-old-boy type, not a single bad vibe did I detect. As briefly as I can I explain myself, what I'm up to. I know he knew about boiling pot there at parcel #30 and he's already heard plenty about me. I don't want to bother him right then and there but if he could spare me a half hour when he passed back by San Cosme, I was sure he'd leave the area much better informed. I'd wait there all day, I promised him.

Somewhat to my surprise he immediately answered enthusiastically and in the affirmative.

Whew!

Mission accomplished, Chayo and me retraced our steps back to pickup, us sayin', "See ya laters," to all we passed along the way. A few moments more and we were rumbling outta there, out of Puerto.

In the cab of that truck we do a considerable amount of speculating as to what the heck was going on. The Governor, who was up at that road's dedication, was PRD, the Presidente was PAN. Chayo, who seems to have an innate nose for politics, points this out to us; something we already quite understood. He reasoned that the motive behind the give-away visit was to draw crowd away from up-top event; the Presidente trying to steal some of the Gov.'s thunder. Chayo went on a triad then as to how this new road really didn't serve much real purpose, except facilitate drug runners; and that after the first hard rain it wouldn't even do that. I had to admit that it sure seemed a crazy venture. Anyway, it didn't look like the Presidente was experiencing much of a draw.

So we're back at San Cosme with me determined to wait. Marcia couldn't justify the waste of so much of her time there so she kissed me good-bye and headed off walkin' back to camp. I've got a book. To break things up there's the watching and bullshittin' with that new kitchen's construction crew, Justo, Cidillo, the old all-around mason. Things weren't movin' fast but they were definitely making headway.

There was a long discussion between this old man, about the same age as I am, and Chayo about the proper way to mix cement. Chayo's had some experience with cement, and like some young buck, attempted to challenge things this other was telling him. Had I had been Chayo I'd a just paid attention. This guy had been constructing with cement long before that young pup'd been born.

Several hours went by with me reading for long spells and taking in various other actions. Finally I hear traffic coming from that southern direction, me thinkin', "Oh boy, here comes the Presidente." But then this new model sorta muscle SUV, white with tinted windows, comes pullin' into San Cosme, drives right past where I'm leaning against side of our pickup, me impossible to miss...and continues past and towards tide line where remains of my old palapa still sets.

Chayo, who'd been under restaurante's thatch, came out and stated that that wasn't any part of them, the Presidente's party; which I didn't think it had been. "New ejido members," he flatly informs me as this white carro goes out of sight there where roadway turns left down low-tide-only pass.

It's not long after that that there's more traffic comin' from same direction. A shiny, new silver Ford pickup, short box, 150 series, speeds after that white job, three guys in its cab. I'd only seen the driver's mug once before, and that was from a distance. "Gutierrez" I question Chayo who quickly confirms this. "A new pickup?" I ask rhetorically. "Si! A brand new one," he answers the obvious. In a flash it's gone around that same corner.

The truck that Guterieez had trespassed upon the rancho with had been a much older, silver, Chevy Silverado...maybe 12-15 years old. I couldn't help but wonder where the hell, in the dying general economy of Cd. Constitucion, this guy was comin' up with all the money he seemed to be throwin' around.

"Up with the Governor," Chayo stated. He went on to speculate that that dedication up on top must be over. Gutierrez was a real big shot now that he'd been elected ejido commissioner. Certainly he would have been up there snuggling up to the Gov.

It isn't long after those two carros whipped around that corner, maybe half an hour, and here comes an old red Chevy pickup belonging to Saul's brother, the head of his work crew, coming at us from that low-tide pass direction. They had been working away since daylight, us able to hear their portable welder running when we'd walked out early that A.M. Here they came, though, seemingly in great haste, to get the hell up and out of there. Chayo and me, we shared a little laugh about this. We both agreed that they'd been tipped off.

We greatly suspected that Trojillo was doin' just a basketful of unsanctioned things with that monstrosity he's throwing up. His work crew hittin' the road like that we took as degree of confirmation. I was hoping that the Presidente would get ta see these guys in action.

We don't wait much longer before vehicles from the Presidente's troop, the give-away pickup and a carro filled with minor lieutenants, both male and female, pull to stop there out in front of restaurante. Right away we get the word that the headman, though still tied up in some minor event, wouldn't be long in following. The people with the give-away truck swing into action, them summoning those of San Cosme to come and get their goodies.

Then here comes that white ejido carro with Gutierrez right behind it, back from around that corner, them both coming to a halt right by me there leaning up against our pickup. Hey! When these two vehicles disgorge their contents, what a cast of characters I've got to scrutinize:

There's the newspaper reporter from Constitucion, Sr. Erriberto Chavez, who has the honor of being the first person I wrote to when I started moving into attack mode. He, I'm sure, is the mastermind (though with this term I'm truly inflating his abilities) behind all the bad press we've been receiving. He knows well who I am yet there was none of his normal cordial, two-faced greetings. Nor would he chance eye contact with me, either.

He's followed out by a guy I used to have a degree of respect for, a character I used to write about as Don Luciano, way, way back when I was writing events of "Life in Alejo's Backyard." What a lowly turncoat he'd changed to, all of this because of $ in regards to that phony parcel scheme. Reputedly (according to Chayo) he'd sold his parcel, which is on El Carrizalito and upon which Chayo's straw bale casa sets, for the equal of $30,000. U.S. dollars to Gutierrez. (This because of that casa and the spring up in arroyo behind it.) Gutierrez didn't plunk down that kind of cash. No. He'd given him a old model semi tractor down, with the promise to pay up big time - later. He doesn't attempt greeting or eye contact neither.

Another big bellied dude, the driver of this expensive carro, I've seen before. I'm pretty sure it was up at San Jose De La Noria at an ejido meeting, back when those from town were just starting to buy up ejido memberships for next to peanuts. I didn't like the looks of this over-stuffed sausage then and he certainly hadn't become more appealing since. There was a female who stayed in the back seat while the males huddled with Gutierrez almost immediately.

Ha! This was the first time I get a real good look at this new adversary. He's tall, maybe six feet three. His stomach is grossly extended, hanging way over and hiding his belt, which can only be detected way in back. His face is all puffed out and sorta purple-red. Damn. He makes me think I'm going to witness an explosion, er possibly a stroke or heart attack. He doesn't acknowledge me either, which is sorta strange, especially since he's been bragging up a storm as ta what he's gonna do, first time he runs into me. (Tie my hands and hang me for trying to steal Mexican land!)

I turn my back on this alien crowd, walk to where Chayo is watchin' unfolding action still there in restaurante shade. Some of those from the Presidente's crew know some of that knot of all-new ejido members. There's waved greetings and exchanging of handshakes. Almost immediately a cry goes out from these poor, poor ejido people that they've tried to visit their properties but there's this locked chain across their way that wouldn't allow them to pass.

Some of those with the Presidente know all about this fight, that chain. I watch them stand there and listen to this whining, but it doesn't seem to inflame them, move them towards any form of sympathetic action. One of these higher ups from Loreto, a very well dressed and distinguished looking gentleman was a personal friend of Alejo's, who'd once been a fisherman, and whom had visited Carrizalito often. He walked back into resturante shade shaking his head at Chayo and me.

The heated discussion goes on out there in bright sunshine while the give-away proceed at a pretty fast clip there in restuarante. I cease the opportunity to show another who walks back from gathering that document that all in the ejido signed in regards to location of Carrizalito, this being back when none of those new ones were yet sharking around. I pass this from one of these lieutenants to another, this all very visible to that fuming mob out front.

All most all of those from San Cosme eventually get drawn to this free give-away. All they had to do to get a sack of goodies was sign their name and address on a 3x5 card, and a sack containing a lot of puffed rice, some candy and an orange and I don't know what little else, got handed over. Those that declared children got an additional sack with a plastic toy cash register, some balloons and small box of Creoles. Chayo and Maria got in on this as did Martin and Estar along with Julio and Andrea, and, yeah, another mother who'd been visiting in kitchen. Guadalupe, I noticed, didn't come out for any handouts.

All this is going on around me, Chayo making comments about how the style and models of carros of what are now ejdio members has so drastically changed; from mostly old wrecks to this new and shiny stuff. I happen to be looking at that knot of disgruntled ones when the biggest of them all, the new ejdio chief Gutierrrez sorta separates from others and with his hands on hips faces me directly and casts what I took to be a threatening stare. I actually uttered a "Ha!" and grinned back at this brief episode of confrontation. Oh! You should have felt the urge to flip him the bird that surged there through me at that moment....

Into this growing gathering the rest of the Presidential cavalcade pulls, two more carros spilling their contents there out in front of me. The Presidente, almost as soon as his feet make contact with ground, is near completely engulfed by that quite-well-fed, opposing faction. The conversation that erupts is heated and quite long winded. I can hear, "Chain!" and "Lock!" in this whining which is going on on the far side of that big white SUV, but except for some stomping feet or an occasionally wavin' arm I really can't see all the action.
Chayo is slightly worried about this, them having so much time with the headman. He reminds me several times that I'm not to say anything about that chain and locked gate being mine. "Ernesto," he coaches, "it's Ernesto's"...as if he really had to warn me.

Maybe ten minutes of that heated conversation slides by before the Presidente splits off from it, comes right straight over to where me and Chayo stand waiting. After handshake greeting I ask him if he's ready now to go and take a look at the truth. And, yeah, he say's he'd like that; so I offer my services as guide and driver, which he readily accepts. With all eyes upon us, Chayo, the Presidente and me walk out to our pickup and jump in. As I move off one of his staff carros follows.

He's easy to talk to and we don't seem to have the slightest problem with communication. I could tell he was surprised at what Saul had been up to, that place there seeming such a slap in the face. Chayo freely injects things into what fast becomes a rapid-fire, three-way conversation. We point, point, point, to the obvious, not really needing to come to full stop as we pass through parcel #30. Gates on old roadway that got chained and locked soon after the Delagada's visit of the day before stood open. That work crews hurried departure we got to describe. The guy riding next to me caught on to all of this.

Continuing on up the rancho road I stopped where I'd taken the Delagada to see the fence across the Historic high-tide-pass trail. The two of us walked the 300 meters or so and encountered the same, this gentleman just shaking his head at Torjillo's arrogance. On the way back towards the truck the Presidente really gets into the spirit of things, him telling me that he's going to talk to the Governor! the Tribunal Agraria and the Reforma Agraria about these problems.

"The Reforma Agraria 'Is!' the problem," I state emphatically. I go on to blame all these problems directly on them because of that drastically in error Plano Definitivo which they'd divided. Briefly I describe the property moves that have transpired and I mention that I've got this series of maps that show things the way they were before the original ejido plan, how that had erased long held properties like Rancho Palo Blanco and then how El Definitivo had come along and rearranged that. I mentioned that I had a five page series of these maps and he asked me right off if I could get him copies of this. Even though this stuff was still only in English I gave him the copies off my clipboard, something he really thanked me for.

The vehicle that's been following us contains three gents that I'd not brushed up against before. One is like the head environmental officer for this entire huge area. His last name is Rodrigo, that's all I've ever heard Chayo call him. Chayo thinks he's on the take. He's pretty sure that Saul's been greasing his palm in regards to eco offenses that he'd so obviously committed. Our complaints of last year had gone to this Rodrigo's office and we're quite sure that Trojillo's hands had never even been slapped. I haven't a clue as to who the other two duds were.

We proceed towards the famous Carrizalito "chain and lock" gate. I get out and unlock it, at the same time pointing to signs that spell out rancho rules. The rancho is the end of the road I make sure my guest understands. I leave that chain down behind us, me pretty sure that those irate ejido members aren't going to try and enter under such conditions.

As we move through the rancho I make a point of pointing out how trash free and well vegetated the whole place is. We stop at Playa Carrizalito where I walk with him to the shoreline where I get a kick out of pointing out to him Punta Carrizalito, Playa Carrizalito and back up into the winding green path of arroyo Carrizalito where Ojo De Agua De Carrizalito lay deeply hidden. He had my survey of the rancho, one of those five sheets I'd given him, which in numbers 1 through 9 spells out all the obvious landmarks and historic sites. "Si. Si," he kept muttering, indicating that he surely caught on.

For a good half-hour more we cruised around within the rancho, him expressing a high degree of approval for the way we were doing things there. "A real paradise," he uttered several times in tones that left no doubt but what he meant it. Numerous times I made pitches as to why this whole stretch of coastline should be save from "Any!" type of development. He certainly seemed to agree.

We're on the way back towards Saul's disaster zone and the Presidente states honestly that he's relatively powerless in regards to all this Plano Definitivo jazz. In regards to these parcels he'd do what he could, but do except for throwing rocks out in front of those with whom we're experiencing problems, he didn't know if he'd be very effective. "The problems concerning Saul's gates and fences?" I question. "Si! Si!" he responds forcefully that he'll do something about these.

Back at San Cosme I thank him a whole bunch for takin' that information-filled ride. "Way better than a visit to your office!" I state. And, you bet, he certainly agreed.

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com