They have always been at war in Chihuahua. When Cortez and the conquistadors came into this area, they brought not only new weapons but new sickness to a people who had never known them. There were some fifteen million Aztec in Mexico before the conquest. They had lived well for the standards of their world, but within fifty years only about three million poor, degraded, and enslaved people were left.
The native religions and cultures were replaced by foreign traditions and the churches of the conquistadors. Now Mexico’s political structures and institutions along with its corruption and inefficiency have produced extreme inequity of income. Even now, Mexico has more billionaires than any other country except the United States, but it also has more people living in desperate poverty.
Desperate people do desperate things. Many of the once proud indigenous natives now work for the drug cartels on land their ancestors owned but now they lease it from the cartels. They grow marijuana and other drug producing plants which allow them to live and take care of their children. At least now they can afford clothes for their children. Little has changed since the earliest of days. There is always a fight going on with someone. Now reports of executions, kidnappings, and extortion surface daily. Any archeologist working in Chihuahua takes their life in their hands. The local police are basically ineffective against the drug cartels that actually control just about everything; including the local police and judicial system.
Exploring Chihuahua
Crossing the border between El Paso and Juarez, I finally popped the obvious question; “Exactly what are you doing out at those ruins?”
“Well,” answered June, “A fellow archeologist has discovered a mystery that she asked me to help solve. As you know, I am pretty good at identifying Indians by the type of pottery they make. Sometimes I can identify the actual individual who makes a ceramic. Understanding pottery is also how we know about their trading patterns. Sometimes when an odd piece of pottery is found at a ruin it is there because of trade with other groups. The polychromatic pottery found here has presented a mystery involving two types of simple everyday use pottery. In the 1200s, a small community of Hohokam, a people who lived primarily in what is now southern Arizona moved into a neighboring valley. The ceramics were made using two distinctive techniques, one from the local culture and the other Hohokam. Interestingly, there is a complete absence of trade between the two groups except for this one site. The theory is that the Hohokam pottery found there was made by female captives. Obviously, if the Hohokam-style ceramics were made with clay composed of local soil, then that tends to support the theory that the Hohokam was prisoners. It will be my job to collect some samples and bring them back to the University where an analysis can be made of the clay they are composed of.”
I mulled this over for a while then asked. “What do you want Corey and me to do while you’re out at the ruins?”
June produced a big smile and said, “I want you and Corey to explore Chihuahua and enjoy yourselves, I would suggest that you figure out the local bus services and enjoy the sights and sounds of this community. There really are some amazing things to see here and the place we are going to stay at is very nice. Trust me, you will enjoy yourselves, just be careful. Stay where there are lots of people and don’t get to far away from the hotel. If you do leave the hotel, leave me a note so I won’t worry about you. I’ll be in every evening and we can have dinner together.”
June smirked at Corey and said to him, “Don’t be surprised if some of the local boys come up to Penny and propose marriage to her, promising her a home in million dollar haciendas. Usually they are just kidding around in an attempt to flirt with a good looking girl. Girls that have accepted invitations like that wind up in abject poverty or worse. Those haciendas usually turn out to be adobe houses out in the middle of nowhere. Just laugh it off and avoid them. Seriously, kidnapping is a problem here. Penny is a good looking blond. You don’t see too many blondes in Chihuahua, especially when they look as good as Penny. Women have been kidnapped and forced into the sex slavery business. It will only take me a couple of days to solve the pottery problem so again, enjoy yourselves, but be very careful. Go to the tourist places where you will be in crowds, don’t leave those crowds if someone wants to show you something or wants to sell you something. We will be out of here in two or at the most three days.
The Drug Bust
I wanted to see everything that involved art, so for the next two days we took bus tours to galleries and museums. Chihuahua certainly had plenty to offer. I was particularly impressed by the Sacred Art Museum where two rooms exhibited beautiful examples of Mexican religious art created in the 18th century. Corey was most fascinated by the Nombre de Dios Caves. The caves feature stalactite and stalagmite formations all made from millions of years of chemical deposits formed from glistening salt but returning to the hotel that evening to meet with June we encountered a problem.
Tony and his girlfriend Valerie were Americans who had been exploring the sights and sounds of Chihuahua just as Corey and I had been doing. Tony was athletic looking despite his long straggly hair. Valerie, with long black hair and matching black fingernails that were too black to match her pan cake skin was quiet, choosing not to participate in the conversation. She acted like she was worried about something, but Tony was very outgoing and jovial and the conversation seemed to be easy for him, particularly since he was talking to a fellow Americans, it was the only English being spoken in the bus. One thing was different about them. Tony had purchased a bag of marijuana and some cocaine from a local dealer and was secretly carrying it with him on the bus. Corey and I, being oblivious to this enjoyed their company on the ride back to the city when the bus pulled over to a stop.
The local police had set up a roadblock to inspect the passengers. It was then that Tony slipped the bag of drugs out of his pocket and into Corey’s small backpack without Corey noticing it. The police who had entered the bus directed everyone in Spanish to exit the bus carrying their belongings with them. Once on the side of the road, they basically skipped the natives who were on the bus, ignoring them, but the foreigners had all their personal possessions searched, and of course when it came Corey’s turn they found the package of drugs. The search immediately stopped, Corey was handcuffed and put into the back of one of the police cars. Despite what I said and the sheepish looks from Tony and Valerie, I was ignored. The only language that was spoken was Spanish therefore I had no idea what was going to happen.
Tony and Valerie got off the bus at the very next stop and quickly disappeared into the maze of streets that made up this section of town. All I could do was return to the Hotel and wait until June returned. I was perplexed. I really didn’t know how serious the situation was nor did I know how to explain the predicament to June. When June did arrive and I explained to her what the situation was, all that I could get out of her for several minutes was, “Oh my.”
Officia de Derecho
The following day June and I found ourselves in the Officia de Derecho, talking to a lawyer by the name of Alfredo De Vargas. In broken English he explained to June and me that there was little they could do until Corey made his court appearance before the local magistrate. He certainly would need a lawyer, and a translator if he requested one, however it seemed like a sure thing that he would be convicted of drug possession. It was not a problem at all for the natives. In fact, Corey and Penny had smelled and even seen several people smoking marijuana while roaming the city but they were all local. The problem was Corey was an American. Ever since American politicians had begun working with the Mexican federal government to stamp out the drug trade by providing millions of dollars for the war on drugs, the local governments wanted to make the point that the problem was the demand for drugs by the American drug consumers. They wanted to make examples out of as many Americans as they could.
It was useless to try to find Tony and Valerie. They had refused to admit to anything on the bus. All June and I could do was stay in contact with the
lawyer and wait until Corey’s court date then we learned that it would be almost a month before that would occur.
Returning to Serpiente, June and I shared the news of Cory’s predicament with Hidalgo and Ken; then they all went to the authorities in Albuquerque to seek advice and help. There, they quickly learned that there was little the American government could do to help Corey. For all practical purposes he had been caught red handed and they didn’t want to expend time and money on a drug possession charge even though Corey had never even had a traffic ticket on his record. The only advice they really received was to make arrangements with Cory’s lawyer to provide him with some money. In Mexican jails, everything such as clothing and food has to be purchased. The jail would not see to his safety or personal needs. Ken and June immediately started wiring small amounts of money, earmarked for Corey’s needs and of course the lawyer’s fees.
The Jail Sentence
Corey never received any of the money that was sent to him. It didn’t matter, as soon as he would have received the money, the thugs in the jail would have beaten him up taking it away from him. In the end it probably saved him several beatings. On the other hand it left Corey in a serious state of deprivation. In only a short time he was reduced to a skeletal figure with nothing but a pair of stained shorts to wear. He learned some of the same tricks everyone there learned. Mano direcho (the right hand) was used to eat with and mano lezuada (the left hand) was used to clean oneself with. Needless to say, toilet paper was nonexistent along with any other item used for personal hygiene. Breakfast consisted of a bowl of oatmeal served with no sugar or milk. The lumpy grey stuff had to be eaten with your fingers. Lunch was a slice of bread and a single slice of dried out cheese. Dinner was usually a little better with chili and beans served along with occasional canned beets and raw onion. A single tortilla was also served which acted as a bowl to contain the chili and beans. Many of the inmates gave up their dinner to other, more vicious inmates to avoid a beating. Determined to stay healthy Corey refused to give up his food which cost him an occasional elbow in the rib cage but he did learn to hit back. As soon as the other inmates figured out that he would defend himself they left him alone.
Corey had many enemies in jail but he also had made some friends. Usually they were young Americans who had also been busted for drugs or weapons. Corey learned that only two classes of people in Mexico had access to guns, the authorities such as police and army and the drug cartels. The drug cartels were rapidly gaining on both the army and the police because the poorest of Mexicans were on the side of the drug cartels which were their benefactors. One elderly Mexican man befriended Corey and taught him how to avoid the difficulties of surviving in jail.
Manuel Ortega had been imprisoned two years earlier for holding up a Mercado. It turned out that the food store he had supposedly held up was actually run by a relative of a member of a drug cartel. Manuel Ortega actually was guilty of stealing food to feed his family, but his real crime was not allowing the cartel to use his small farm and family to grow marijuana. Now his farm and family is used to grow the illegal crop anyway. Manuel fought them the only way he could which was by helping other inmates in the jail.
After three months in jail Corey’s court date finally came up, delayed because of the overtaxed judicial system. Corey was allowed to take a warm shower, given clean cloths, then handcuffed and driven along with several other inmates, including Manuel to the courthouse to see a judge.
Corey was found guilty of drug possession, intent to distribute drugs, and overstaying his stay in Mexico which seemed a little ridiculous since he really didn’t have much choice. His lawyer appeared to be of little help and he was terribly disappointed when none of the family showed up to stand up for him in court. He did not know that they had made other arrangements. The judge ordered a sentence of five years and he was herded back into the prison van to make the twenty minute trip back to the jail.
The Jail Break
The family had been in constant contact with Corey’s lawyer, Alfredo De Vargas, but they were given very little hope of getting Corey out. Ken and Hidalgo took matters into their own hands, traveling to Chihuahua and renting a small bungalow where they could work secretly on their own. After a month of quietly making inquiries they made a break though. Vargas suggested that the only way to get Corey out would be to arrange a jail break. But that would require a series of bribes to the guards. The only real chance they had was while the prisoners were being transferred from the prison to the courthouse. Ken and Hidalgo of course was suspicious that they were being set up and changed the plan.
All four inmates including Corey and his new friend Manuel were in a state of desperation and despair as they were shuffled into the waiting van and the journey began. But after only a few blocks a black van suddenly pulled in front of the police van and slammed on its breaks causing the police van to screech to a halt. Out of the van jumped two masked gunmen who held their pistols directly in the faces of the driver and guard who immediately raised their hands over their heads. After removing the keys to the shackles the two prison workers were made to lie down on the asphalt and the inmates were quickly herded into the black car which drove away and disappeared.
After only a short drive of a couple of city blocks the black van drove into a garage, the garage door was pulled down and for all practical purposes they just sat there in complete darkness. Several intense moments passed as police sirens came and then passed the garage. After another twenty or so minutes passed without the police pounding on the garage door a cigarette lighter finally was lit by one of the gunmen who had kidnapped them. As Corey looked up in astonishment the burly fellow slowly turned around exposing his face. There sat Hidalgo with a huge grin on his face.
The Wet Backs
Hidalgo’s expression quickly changed to concern. “We need to get out of here fast,” explained Hidalgo, “and I don’t have the foggiest idea how we are going to get back to Serpiente. It all had happened to fast. We waited and waited for a call from Vargas to let us know when the prison transfer would take place and when it finally did come we found ourselves unprepared.”
“Who is that other guy with you,” Corey asked. Ken turned around in the seat and another worried grin appeared.
“We are hoping the police assumed that a drug cartel sprung you fellows and decided that pursuing us would only lead to more problems, but I doubt it. It is only a matter of time until Vargas will spill the beans and they will be looking for us. They can’t find you with us or we will all wind up in jail with you.”
Manuel, who until now had been silent said quietly, “Get me to a phone and I can get us out of here, I have friends who will gladly help us.” Moments later all had changed into street clothes. Corey was amazed at the feel of actually wearing real shoes which he had not worn for two months now. After some exchanges in Spanish, Manuel and Hidalgo ventured into the small home that adjoined the garage, then down the street to a pay phone that was in a small store at the end of the block. There, after pushing a peso into the slot, Manuel spoke for several minutes to someone. Two hours later an old farm truck loaded with bales of hay stopped in front of the garage. After quick arrangements it backed up to the back of the black van so the men could scramble under the bales that were held up by a large piece of ply board. As soon as everyone was loaded they travelled to the bungalow Hidalgo and Ken had rented. There the old truck stopped long enough for Hidalgo and Ken to get out and then continued traveling out of the city and into the countryside with the prisoners still inside, including Corey. After what seemed like several hours they arrived at a farm house south of Juarez where the prisoners were unloaded, fed, and told to stay out of sight.
The next day Corey found Manuel despondent. “What’s wrong,” he asked.
“Well,” answered Manuel in his broken English, “I have learned that my family has been relocated to southern Mexico. My wife and son have been, as they say around here, disappeared.”
“Can you f
ind them,” Corey asked.
“There is no way. First of all I cannot show my face around Chihuahua. Not without being arrested by the police. Secondly, if the police don’t catch me the cartel men might. I have no money, no idea where to even look for them and no way of getting to them even if I knew where they were. According to my friends who live around my old farm, the cartel now has legal ownership of it. I have nothing.”
Why don’t you come with me to Serpiente,” suggested Corey who by this time was beginning to understand the complexities of just trying to live in Mexico.
“What is this snake, Serpiente that you talk about,” asked Manuel? Corey described what Serpeinte was and how it might work for him if they could get there. Corey and Manuel immediately began to piece a plan together. He could live in Serpiente for a while until he could accumulate enough money to operate in Mexico. Possibly, with a little luck, he might even be able to locate his wife and son with the resources and connections of friends in Serpiente.
“After all, you saved my butt in Mexico, perhaps we can help you save your family in Mexico,” Corey offered.
The Family at Serpiente Page 56