Nailing Down the Presidente

Other business moves us towards Loreto long before the 15th. We feel great need to touch bases with our business advisor Roberto's office, and with our local lawyer Sr. Yee. Our luck is that Marcia runs into Yee while standing in line at Loreto bank. I walk in on their conversation to tell her that her breakfast is waiting, across the street at Café Ole. "Look!" Marcia exclaims, her proud of her discovery.

"Sr. Yee!" (pronounced Gee) I blurt out, "What luck!" I quickly ask him if he's still going to work for us this season and he quickly responds in the affirmative. We set up a meeting at his office right after our breakfast. Marcia gives up her positioning in the long snaking line and we head back to café.

It doesn't take me long to polish off my plate of juevos rancheros and corn tortillas. I want to contact Payo Quijano, one of the large family of Quijanos which has been involved in a 20-plus-year fight with same ejido, San Jose De La Noria, which has been fighting us. Payo is the former chief of police of Loreto. Smelling a defeat for his political party, the PRI, he'd resigned before last year's election. His instincts proved correct. Somehow he still holds a position within the Municipal Palace. Chayo'd told me that this hombre had expressed desires to talk with me, soon as we showed back in area. Leaving Marcia to finish her plate, her with a pocketful of money and threatening to go shopping, I walk over to Municipal Palace, which is right next to bank.

There's an information office off the ground floor so I go in and ask. Sure, they know guy I'm lookin' for. The fella in charge of office isn't sure where Payo is working there, or if he actually is. He grabs a map of the city, though, and shows me right where my target lives. Armed with this I head back towards Marcia, me hoping to cut short possible spending spree.

Just coming out of bank I again encounter Sr. Yee. I briefly explain what I'm up to and he motions me to his carro, which is stationed right there. We jump in and head off on search. Without difficulty we find right casa, but not with Payo at home. A neighbor lady tells me that he's at "Def" or "jeep" or something close to that. I jump back in with Yee and tell him what I'd gotten.

"D.I.F.," he replies, and seemingly understanding, drives off on certain heading. It's an office. Part of the municipal government. Still don't' know what the initials stand for.

Yee parks and we walk in together. "Payo?" we question. A female worker there looks around at different doorways in this interior courtyard and then finally points out where she thinks we'll have luck.

The door is open; several people seated on client side of big desk, Payo in official seat. He catches my waved greeting and abruptly leaps for doorway and in a flash is entwining me in great bear hug, us great old buddies that we are. After this effusiveness subsides, brief as I can make it, I spell out what I hope to pull off, with his help.

My aim is to firm up this meeting with the Presidente on the 15th. I want weigh of numbers on my side if we get through the door. I want both he and Yee to work hard at pulling this together. Payo wants to talk more, soon as he's done there with those waiting at that desk. We set up a time an hour later at Yee's office. This big guy is shaking my hand all the way back out to street. "Quick!" I say to Yee. "Marcia's got money and is walking the streets!" In a flash I'm back where I'd last seen her.

Whew! Found her before she'd built up a full head of steam.

Marcia and I just set down in Yee's offered chairs and in comes Payo. I reiterate to both of them that I really what this meeting with El Presidente. Payo, who's sort of an excitable guy, hits me with way-too-rapid Spanish, the gist of which was that I, somehow, was under attack again. Actually, Marcia picked up more of this opening blast than I did.

I beg him to slow down, and, to a degree, he tries to. He gives me an update on what's shaking down with the "Quijano verses ejido" situation. He tells me of an agreement that was reached, participants from four overseeing governmental agencies, the ejido chiefs and the Quijano representatives with their lawyer, all seemingly ready to sign. But then at the very last moment the phone rings for the Delagado of the Reforma Agraria, who's instructed not to sign.

Payo unfolds a copy of survey that represented what had been agreed to. This accord would have given the ejdio the very southern end of old Palo Blanco, which are Agua Verde and Puerto Agua Verde. All the rest, all the way back to San Cosme, about a 1000 hectares, going to the Quijanos. Damn. That would have been one hell of a victory for their side, but, alas, it had been torpedoed from someone high above. All of us had no problem agreeing that the real bandits orchestrating events around the ejidos' Plano Definitivo had to be really well-placed heavy-weights.

Yee is the quiet type, not a show-boater at all. He normally says very little, and what he does utter is generally short and to the point. I was mildly surprised to see him in such rousing agreement as he was about above conclusion.

Payo expresses misgivings about him being at a meeting with the Presidente. "He's PAN, I'm PRI," he states simply, like maybe the two of 'em shouldn't be seen together under such circumstances. He suggests that his cousin Raul, who he claimed as quite close to the Presidente, would be a better choice. I saw no problem with this, us being on the best of terms with this country relative. Raul was scheduled to be at our place for shell working lessons just two days hence. I assured him I'd ask.

The meeting breaks up with Payo and I pledging allegiance to each other's cause. You bet, we were allies.

We beat it over to Roberto's office and catch Diana, who's takin' it over, open and ready for business. Roberto, a smart, talented, aggressive and innovated bi-lingual person, could no longer make a living in Loreto. The disasterous affects of 9-11 had cut his clientele, almost exclusively Americans, to less than half. Loreto, in general, finds itself in desperate straights. He'd fled to the States, Las Vegas, where he's now working as an illegal. What a loss to us. What a shame.

Diana assures us that she can fill the gap. Her English has improved immensely since we'd encountered her as Roberto's "girl Friday." Because of the crash he'd had to let her go so we'd seen none of her the past season. We're sure hoping that she can fill Roberto's shoes.

I give her a list of things we'd like for her to get started on. None of it seemed to phase her in the least. We left her with our fingers crossed.

From Loreto, we're off to Cd. Constitucion. We haven't seen our partner Ernesto since last spring. There were many things needing to be talked over with him. Later that afternoon, past siesta time, we spot his red pickup parked outside his dental office.

His greeting is warm, friendly. He looks great, like he's been taking good care of himself. He's waiting for a client to show so there's time to talk. Gutierrez, that clown buying up all the parcels, he quickly became main topic of conversation.

"A shark," is his depiction. A fast talker who's burnt lots whom had business dealings with him. Nobody in that area's orange-growers association wants any more to do with this character. Ernesto also expected him of being an alcoholic.

Ernesto brings up the slander attack that's been going on against us for like a month before we'd arrived back on Baja. With radio and news print they'd been blasting away at us. Me and him. I was painted in all shades of dark colors. He was being characterized as nothing but a front and a gringo lover. He hadn't responded but had stayed up above this thing. He claimed not to be bothered by this at all.

All I could do was laugh. I told Ernesto about the story I'd written (Pop-Gun) the past season. Pop! They, this new parcel buyer and Chayo's brother, the ejido commissioner, were giving their corks another windy blast. I told him how much I enjoyed fighting an enemy which is reduced to armaments of solely easily-disproven accusations. I was happy they were raising visibility of fight. The more watching, the better.

"Be careful," he cautioned. He asked if our papers were all in order and we assured him they were. We also assured him that most authorities in Loreto were wise to these jerks' antics by then.

We're going to crash at his casa for the night. We head there to do a martini time and watch CNN, get reminded of that mad man who'd grabbed power north of the border and his cravings for war. A good restaurant meal is decided upon. Searching the busy post siesta-time town, we end up back at same old place we've been eating at for years, Estrella Del Mar. I order my first-ever plate of abalone. Tough. Salty. No great shakes.

We settle in at Ernesto's. We just hit the sack and loud Mexican music comes blasting in, a vehicle with cranked up speakers having been strategically parked just yards away, on street right outside our bedroom window. We can't help but hear what we felt were a bunch of drunk Mexicans.

Marcia, way more suspicious than me, was sure this was some form of attack. Ernesto had faxed us that his "neighbor in the orange business" was the one on parcel-buying spree. I'd assumed he meant his country neighbor out by his orange ranch. Right across the street from his casa sets this orange packing plant. She was sure this was mentioned neighbor. I didn't' think so. After 45 minutes with book I was reading, I conked out regardless of the noxious racket. She did too.

Marcia was right. Ernesto confirmed it next A.M. He was sure that the last night's performance had been orchestrated solely for us. Kids game, that's what the enemy's reduced to. Another laugh. Ha!

Ernesto and I head off to his orange ranch, one of his passions. Marcia stayed back to take care of shopping. She wanted to go but I knew Ernesto would open up more if it was just the two of us. Small talk is taken care of before we're completely clear of town. Things revolving around this fight took and helped the stage. Ernesto is worried about my Loreto protective shield now that Roberto's skipped town. No question that I was more comfortable with Roberto's energy there watching my back. I told him about Diana taking over that office, Yee still being on board and fact that Payo, no lightweight by any local measure, was firmly in our corner. Too, I reminded him of all the Pop-Gun attacks of the past season, this causing the Loreto establishment to have a good feel for what was shaking down. I felt the situation was manageable and again I mollified him in regards to our papers. About such a thing we were taking no chances. Whatever ripples in our common road, easily we smoothed them with this orange-rancho visit.

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com