
keith
Nov 25, 2002, 8:39 AM
Post #101 of 120
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rough translations from the Spanish text my wife uses: The New Economy Illegal Agriculture Planting marijuana didn’t become common in Urique until about 1987. The reasons why more and more men resort to this activity are various and different in each case. The main reason is lack of employment in that only 5% of the population is employed, that is to say that they do work for which they receive a salary. Another small part of the population subsists by self-employment. This is the case with the owners of stores, hotels, and restaurants, those that haul merchandise, and small-scale miners. Those who work in construction find only seasonal work. But that leaves all the adults and youngsters, men and women, amounting to hundred in the town alone, thousands in the county, who can’t work because there aren’t many jobs. The Sierra Tarahumara is not the only place with this problem, but in this region it is particularly extreme because of the scarcity of tillable land or pasture for cattle. The Mexican economy, although it progresses little by little, is presently in a seriously bad condition. Another factor that enters into the game: our neighbors to the north are willing to pay large amounts of money for the drugs they desire. For this reason, this type of agriculture is sometimes the only alternative. Many of the marijuana planters don’t have the land to plant grains or vegetables. Another factor that contributes to this problem is that the areas adjacent to this county—the state of Sinaloa, the area around Batopilas, and other areas to the southwest of Urique—have been in this situation for a long time and on a large scale, and it is already part of the lives of their people, and those people have an influence on the lives of the people from around here. Why does the government allow the cultivation of this herb? It is a hard question to answer for various reasons. It’s not hard to see the obvious ones. If the government tried to impede the illegal agriculture, the economic problems would be so serious there would be repercussions of various kinds. There would be practically no money circulating in the county; it would create sociological problems such as crimes of robbery and other delinquencies, and health problems such as malnutrition. These things already exist, but they could increase dramatically to the point of chaos. It is an unfathomable problem, impossible to discuss in a public forum. Nevertheless it can’t be left out of a description of the canyon towns in that it forms an intrinsic part of the people’s lives. El Chutamero (The Pot Farmer) and the Cuerno (AK-47) “Chutamero” is the name given to those who plant marijuana (just like one kind of sandal is called chutamero because they say the pot farmers wear them), and one of them told me this story. The chutamero in this story is like any of the others. He has a family, responsibilities, and sometimes he tries to support them in whatever legal way is possible. But when it’s planting time, he leaves his house heading for places away from the well-known pathways taking a blanket for sleeping, something to eat, his tape player, and his “cuerno”. “Cuerno” is the name they’ve given to the semi-automatic rifles, like the AK-47, that many chutameros carry in case someone comes around their plantings with the intention of stealing them. This farmer had two partners; this business depends on teamwork. For several years he had managed to bring in a harvest, but with different partners. In the year that preceded this story, he and his partners had taken turns looking after the crop, going to the nearby town to buy food and beer, and staying to sleep near the crop when the plants were big. But on this occasion all three happened to be there. Another risk for the chutamero is the Mexican army, which mobilizes both on land and by air during the time when harvesting is most likely. And this is the problem that the chutamero had to face that day. One of the partners had just left camp to go to buy something to eat and drink. He had only walked about 40 minutes when he saw something that immobilized him with fear. A group of soldiers was nearing, perhaps not going in his direction, but not very far from it either. His immediate reaction was to run until finding a niche in the rocks where he could hide. Once he found a hiding place, he realized he would not be able to leave it because the soldiers had come too near where he was hiding. His heart was racing, the sweat ran off his face, and he had his eyes full of the salty liquid. He had almost forgotten to breathe, but the exertion had forced his lungs to gasp air. What he should do was run to warn his partners; but how could he go without giving himself away? Another thought made him forget about his companions and think more about his own safety: the soldiers often had police dogs trained to find people as well as drugs. If he passed close by them they would find him without any trouble. Luckily they didn’t have a dog. They passed by about 6 meters from him, and he could see that they were walking in the direction of the camp. He spent almost two hours there because he couldn’t figure out what to do. The soldiers took about 65 minutes to cover ground that had taken him about 40 minutes. The soldiers weren’t from around there. But soon the soldiers arrived at a point where the other two chutameros could see them, and they suffered the same panic that the hidden one had suffered. One of them took off franticly running up the hillside away from where the soldiers were coming, but he had to stop when he remembered his only way out was down canyon walls about 200 meters deep. What else could he do? He threw himself over the edge, trying to hold onto rocks and plants, some of them spiny, and soon his hands and arms were bloody. Soon he started rolling downhill, and rolling into rocks he lost consciousness (was knocked out). The third chutamero, the one who told me this story, had seen his friend run and disappear into the depths while he was running in the same direction, but he had stopped for a minute in his flight. He had thought about the cuerno. If they caught him with that rifle his prison term would be much longer, but in that instant he only thought about the need to hide himself. But stopping, returning to get the cuerno, and the moment of doubt that made him think of the possibility of losing his life if he fell into the canyon, these also made him lose some important seconds. Now he didn’t have time to run in that direction and he could only make way in the only direction that the squadron of soldiers couldn’t see him from where they were coming. He found himself in some enormous boulders that he couldn’t climb out of without giving himself away. Nor could he go around them without losing precious time. His only alternative was to fall on his face and get however he could into a tight place under a big rock where there was probably a snake or a scorpion. He was just barely able to pull his legs, arm, and the rifle in far enough to be out of sight. When he managed that he realized that he wasn’t far enough away from camp but that the soldiers would hear him if he didn’t stop breathing so loudly. But when your life is in danger, your body can even stop breathing if it is necessary. He barely had a minute or two to get his breathing under control when he could clearly hear the soldiers’ voices. Now everything was in the hands of fate. If they had a dog he was lost. The next few minutes seemed to him an eternity. He heard the shouts of the soldiers who ran in the logical escape direction, and the orders of the sergeant telling some to search toward the canyon and others to search back in the direction from which they had come. The only reason why they probably didn’t look for him under his rock was because he was so close to the camp that no one imagined that someone could be right there, a few steps away. After breaking whatever they found and destroying the sleeping bags, the soldiers proceeded to cut and pile up the plants. This took them more than an hour. Then came the fire. They wanted to finish rapidly, because the heat at this time of day was insupportable, and it was increased by the fire and the lack of shade trees. It seemed to the chutamero that he was there forever. He heard the sergeant say they were only going to go some 300 meters downhill and camp there to eat and to search from around there to see if there weren’t other plantings higher up. At that time his legs were stiff and he was very thirsty. He had no alternative but to stay where he was, face down, stiff, thirsty, hungry, living the most terrifying experience of his life during the rest of the day and night. He wondered if his friend who had rolled (fallen) into the canyon was still living. He was pretty sure that the one who had left camp was all right because he never heard the soldiers talk about him. During the night he had crawled out in the dark to find a place in the ground among the rocks to bury the cuerno, and when it started to get light he hid himself again in the same crevice under the rock. When he finally decided that the danger had passed he had been among those rocks for about 40 hours. When he arrived in town the next night he was aching and starving, and he only found (could only find) the lucky partner, and they both assumed that the third one was dead in the canyon he had fallen into, and they planned to go looking for his body the next day. But that night at the house arrived a shadow bleeding from various places wearing clothes in tatters, with its face stained with a mixture of sweat, blood, tears, and dirt, but with a small satisfied smile because it was alive. The Cow I’ve heard several versions of this story, but they are all similar. It’s possible I may have missed some things or that I may have inadvertently changed some detail, but the main events will not have been altered. It started the day that one of the cows belonging to a man from a town upriver didn’t show up at nightfall. The man thought that maybe in the morning he’d find her, like other times, stuck in some rocks near the arroyo. But it didn’t work out that way. The next day passed, and the cow didn’t appear, and at the end of the second day with no cow he began making conjectures. He had already been afraid that those damn kids that used drugs and planted marijuana would come around and rob something from him, being as how they didn’t have anything better to do. He decided to go to Urique to report the theft. The next morning he got his burro and his gourd for carrying water ready; he threw some peaches on the burro; well, since he was going to Urique, he could sell some, and he had his wife prepare him some tacos. His purpose was to report the theft to the police and, in passing, to buy some groceries. The trail to Urique took four hours of unending downhill on trails where the rocks rolled under his feet like loose marbles, but the men from this land know how to step, and the burros have done it for centuries. He arrived early, he stopped at some Americans’ house to sell the peaches, and, since they bought them all, he didn’t have to stop anywhere else. He went straight to the police station and talked with the chief. The chief communicated the information to the sergeant of the military detachment that was camped on the beach by the river. The next day twelve soldiers appeared in the town of N . . . and they went in the direction the old man had pointed out. For sure over there they were still eating the rest of his cow. It took them several hours to find a camp where there were some six chutameros who were so surprised that at first they didn’t even move. But one did and out of fear fired his pistol. And right there the big commotion started. With that shot the soldiers and chutameros alike ran for cover; other shots were fired, perhaps by the soldiers; and some of the chutameros took off running. About eight soldiers chased them, and the others stayed to catch the ones that hadn’t moved. No one knew exactly who had fired, nor how many planters there were, but the big commotion had started. The soldiers returned with two prisoners, and they hadn’t been able to catch the others. Eight soldiers stayed to make camp in that place while the rest took the prisoners back, and returned with another detachment to check the whole area. The next afternoon three trucks with soldiers arrived (in Urique) and not being able to go up the trail, the trucks and four guards stayed down below while the (rest of the) soldiers rushed to the place where the action was. The next two days were agitated. The soldiers searched houses; they questioned all the men in the place; they moved around in squads on all the surrounding peaks; they put the women to making food; they sent out for more provisions; and three members of the Urique police force also arrived. The people from that place lived some tense days because the representatives of law and order looked at them with suspicion. And that was the way things were in the little town that had suddenly tripled its normal population in a paroxysm no one ever dreamed possible, when, that afternoon, the lost cow, completely carefree, wandered home.
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