I sat down at this computer, wondering what would make me feel good. I'm searching for that high again, to be swept into that sensation. So I though I'd try to tell a little story about someone I met today at the bus stop. I'll keep his name hidden, because the things he told me about are very revealing. I'm gonna call him Alejandro I've decided. Alejandro inspired me to shine through. He told me that he speaks several languages, Japanese, German, English and we conversed in lyrical mexico city Spanish. !?Que pedo guey?!
It turns out that we both have lived in Mexico City's Condesa neighborhood. He spoke about running down Montes de Oca, and Chapultepec. I've walked there plenty of times, and ran by there when I was selling sushi. Ale said he wrote a book when he was there called El Paniquiado - the panicked.
By now were on the slower bus on our way to Cabrillo College, each sitting on opposite sides of the bus, the aisle in between us, legs crossed, and awareness mingling. I was getting absorbed into the tale of this exmarines panicked time in DF. I said Panic? HE said yeah! I said yeah, I guess I had some moments of panic down there too. But where else had he lived down there? In the Reclusorio del Norte!!! That's a gigantic prison, which receives zero government funds said Ale. "It's the worlds most expensive hotel", he said.
Hotel?? He began describing to me about the culture of the place, how it was necesary to make money in there in order to pay for a cot to sleep on.
He told me he needed to get someincome, nothavingthe support of his family back home (heneversaidthatheeven hadany family back home) and so he went up to the"Mero mero" which is the head prisoner there, like the guy in charge of the affairs of the people, who goes by the name of "El mama." He said to the mama man that he wanted his permission to sell some pot in there, but that he told, "pot, no no, everyone's already selling that. You ought to sell some thing we can eat." and so Alejandro got themoney together and bought a grill and loadedup some meat and opened his own little place, calling it "Hungry Jose's, Tortas y mas." And within a short time he was pulling in a hundred to two hundred dollars a day, dealing sanwdiches and deli products.
The mama liked it, and he became very friendly with him. Actually, said Ale, mostpeople in there were very friendly. They called him their Jordan, tall and mulato as he is. Or they called him Alice Cooper.
I asked him if it was ever scary to be in there and he said sure. A lot of folks in there are like soldiers, carry big swords with them inside their pants. THe prison is basically self-organized. The more money you have the better off you are. The mero meros hadtheir own apartments, they drank beer, snorted coke, orderedfood from restaurants and played billiards with each other. "It was life like usual for them."
He said every other day they would let in all the prisoners in the 10,000 person femaleprison accrossthestreet. Itwasastreetfair - vendors, jewlers, mariachis.
Eventuallythe cat got out and made it into a jail in the uniteds tates - "far worse" he said
"There, if you owed someone a rock or money and didn't get it to them in a couple of weeks they'd kill you."
And we commented on the differences in lifestyle, how USA is more collective and Mexico more tribal, and that the thing that's better over here is that you can trust in the government more, there is more stability on the outside.
Viva la cultura!
No comments:
Post a Comment