Risk v Photographic Perfection

(photo from from the NYT lens blog, linked to below)

In the few days I took off to catch the last south swell of the season in Oaxaca, legendary photographer Joao Silva was severely injured in Afghanistan. You can read more about what happened on the NYT site, but Silva came to prominence covering South Africa's transition from Apartheid with three other SA fotogs. This is captured in the book the 'The Bang Bang Club', which is not the best written book in the world, but certainly vale's la pena to read simply to see the level of commitment to journalism those guys had, and a unique angle on the final stages of Apartheid.

You can see some of his recent work with NYT on their awesome lens blog (which also has a short article highlighting how much respect Silva has in the journo world), or check out his professional site

Hope he pulls through all good.

Commericalism v Zapatism

(Zapatista dolls for sale in a street market in San Cristobal)

Article on Global Post by me and Grants, looking at how the popular image of the Zapatistas has been used for commercial purposes around their support bases in Chiapas, with a small photo gallery.

Tijuana versus Redemption

(rooftop miscellany somewhere in Mexico City)

Courtesy of one of my 'burros reversados', i received some smuggled goods: Harper's and the New Yorker. They were both delicious to read, on a few days away from the interwebs of distraction.

With a bit of luck, one of the articles was one I had come across the intro of on the New Yorker site via Alexis Okeowo, a super interesting feature on a controversial attempt to clean up Tijuana, was in this print issue. The clean up effect, led by a former Army Colonel Julian Leyzaola, seem[ed] to have the desired effect of stopping some of the insanity that was Tijuana in 2007 - 2008 but at the expense of tearing apart more than a few innocent, or at least 'not-guilty' lives.

Writes William Finnegan:

During the last three months of 2008, nearly five hundred people were murdered here, many in gruesome public displays: decapitations, dismemberments, corpses left hanging from bridges, piles of bodies with their tongues cut out. There were daylight shoot-outs between gangs using automatic weapons and rocket-propelled grenade launchers in downtown streets and shopping malls.

...and later:

But are the dirty cops the one's being purged?...Purges proceed by their own blinkered logic, particularly when they are conducted by torture, and are themselves subjected to corruption... Numerous people said it was all an espectaculo - a show. The intended audience was the public and "Obama". The latter is a shorthand for the many US agencies funneling more than a billion dollars into the Mexican government's anti-drug initiative through the Mérida Initiative, which places much needed emphasis on fighting public corruption, particularly in law enforcement.

A very well-written article, that highlights the root of the problem for Mexico - where and how to start really eradicating the problems - it butted up hard against reality this weekend: Tijuana saw 14 people gunned down on Sunday, at a rehab center, the first killing of such a size in the city for a couple of years. And two other killings of the same size in Juarez and Tepic, and an attack on a newly opened police station in Nuevo Leon, that caused all 14 police officers to immediately resign.

Goin' Big vs A Bad Reputation

Despite the cloud of violence hanging over it, on Sunday, Mexico pulled off an amazing feat: the world's largest enchilada, laid out for the offering in the 'burb of Iztapalapa.

This is not Mexico's first foray into the grandiose. Christmas saw the world's biggest Christmas tree hoisted up near the Angel de Independencia, during Semana Santa, officials created a series of fake beaches in the city, bragging over the record breaking use of water (while neglecting that at the time, many of the fringes of Mexico City were on water shortage rations) and last weekend, and an enormous "invisible" (read: clear) swimming pool was hoisted up for display on Reforma, one of the city's primary arteries. And, of course, the heavily-criticized excesses that marked the celebrations of 200 years for Mex, just over a month ago.

Interestingly, Mexico - City at least - seems fascinated by trying to pull off extravagance. In the article I read about the enchilada, there's some telling logic that might explain this trend.

"With this Guinness record we are showing the world that Iztapalapa [the burb the enchil was created and eaten in] is a high-level tourist destination," said Mexico City tourism secretary Alejandro Rojas.

There's a lot to be said out of such a short quote. One is that - and call me crazy - its a formidable series of faith leaps to draw a map between a giant enchilada and 'high end tourism'. Not to put any firm judgment calls on Iztapalapa, but its not the very first thing that comes to my mind when i hear the term 'high-level tourism.' Japanese package tours surfing the net this morning are now thinking 'well, if they got a giant enchilada, we just got a new stop for the bus!'? I don't think so.

Inertia. Consider that Mexico's international image basically revolves around decapitations, killing mayors, drug traffickers and the inherent dangers of setting foot anywhere in the country. I mean, like, the Jonas Brothers couldn't even come and play, and the San Antonio Spurs werenn't allowed to leave their hotel room when they played an exhibition game last week.

Mouth watering though it may be, its not clear how one giant enchilada can clear this up, and bring Euros, Pounds and dollars to the concrete jungle's suburbia. Dozens, perhaps, but not just one.

Zapatistas v The Modern Era

"In the first light of dawn on New Year's Day 1994, indigenous campesinos wearing ski masks and toting assault weapons stormed major towns in the southeastern Mexican state of Chiapas. By midday, the Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN, in Spanish) had introduced itself to the world as the new face of social revolution.

The nature of this face -- or more accurately, the lack thereof -- immediately distinguished the movement. Black balaclavas, worn at all times in public, along with the rugged attire of the indigenous population, captivated the lenses of the world's media. So did the eloquent dispatches explaining the need for the movement's existence -- and for the masks. "In order for them to see us, we covered our faces; so that they would call us by name, we gave up our names; we bet the present to have a future; and to live . . . we died," its leadership would later explain.

This is the latest of our - myself and Grant Fuller - articles to be published from Chiapas, a 3000-word feature that came out in yesterday;s edition of World Politics Review, that offers a brief overview of the history and modern context. Its part of three features on modern Mexico, the theme for this week. To read the full article, you need a subscription. Luckily, you can get a 30-day trial here, and if you like, sign up after. Lots of solid article from around the world on that site make it well worth the while.

Time versus Husslin'

Apparently I seem unable to keep track of time, nor keep regular blog posts on the 1's and two's. Hijoles.

Its cuz my schedule looks shocking like that of Rick Ross, circa 2007 (see above, care of some genius with a shit load of time on their hands, crates of hip hop records, and a graphical mind. Props to the Nate D-Oh-double-G for the pass.... not that Nate Dogg... nor that one. The other one.)

Age versus Rebellion

Standing behind his home, one of the elders of the community watches his sons build a new house for the growing family

Our recent trip to Chiapas to look into what has happened to the Zapatista movement was partially inspired by the fact that media coverage on the movement had largely dropped off in the past five years. One of the things that really interested us were people that had been part of the movement since the beginning - which was actually 1983, not 1994 as is often assumed - and still behind the idea of the social revolution regardless of age.

That stupid quote you always hear 'if you're not a Communist at 20, you're an idiot, and if you're not a Capitalist by 50, you're even dumber' (or something slightly more eloquent) always bugged me. More for the reason of assuming that cuz you are old you can't want to fight for change than for dividing the world into limited groups.

Anyways. Our article out on Global Post today looks at some of the older generation in the movement, looking back on what they have accomplished.

For many reasons, Zapatistas prefer not to have their full faces shown in photos; making for slightly challenging conditions, but hopefully working out in the end.

See it here

Versus v Versus

A more severe versus, late night at the cock fights

After an internet absence at the start of this month, theme for post this month is versus. This is partially a shout to my years as managing editor for Capital Magazine, where 'versus' was one of our regular sections, and partly cuz I like things squaring off.

Eyes of the World --> Mexicali Blues --> China Cat Sunflower

Hey. Even though its not September, this is the last of Grateful Dead-titled posts, going out as a mini-set, based on mixed requests to Tom, Adam and Raftissimo that I didn't get to individually due to lacking internetation.

Mexico is nothing if not a magnet for bad press these days. Not that its totally unwarranted, as there is some heinous stuff going on in the country. Landslides that turned out to not be all that real meant a higher than average few days of 'friend emails': are you okay? Swine flu last year, oil spill this year. Drug war, drug war, drug war.

A friend was in Canada on a business trip a few weeks ago, and, in pleasant chit chat, happened to mention to a store clerk that he was Mexican, and would soon be heading back home. "You couldn't PAY ME to go to Mexcio!" was the response.

Not surprising, in some ways. If there's an image constantly presented to you by your streams of information, that image will shape in your mind. This is hardly a groundbreaking insight, or a shock to anyone who takes a cursory glance at daily international news out of Mexico. Massacre this, mass grave that, drug kingpin this, and pretty soon a 120 million people spread across a massive geographically and culturally diverse country become painted with the same brush; an international opinion is formed as a result of this.

Unfortunately, while its not as blanco y negro as its portrayed, there are a lot of heinous things happening. But, there's an infinitely bigger middle zone.

I spent the last week in small town that I've spent a decent amount of time on and off in the last few years, surfing the mornings, writing in the afts and eves. I love the place, not just for hedonistic reasons of surf and such. Its quaint, remote, friendly, rustic there's lots of pride in the people for what they have, and super rad people at all levels of the town.

Into the mid-90's, local politics and 'job choices' meant it was quasi off limits to tourists, though a few hardy surfers took the risks for the pretty stellar waves it produces. Some paid the price for that decision. It enjoyed a bit of a heyday from 99/2000 until last year, when a series of kidnappings, road blockades and a gunpoint robbery of several tourists cast its shadow, leaving the temporary mark staining so much of Mexico right now.

This leaves the town in a place that I think a lot of cities, towns and states find themselves. Places made up almost exclusively rad people, who for the most part just go about their daily lives. But with a contingency that threatens the status quo, and renders the general population without much they can do but try to get by, best they can. You can see that people want to say with all their hearts that its safe, but there's the hesitation in their eyes. They want to say its safe, because everyone they know personally has good hearts, good intentions and works honestly to put food on the table. But they can't ignore things like when news filtered into the town one morning about a 4-hour gun battle 20 mins up the road the night before. Or that one of the community members - a good and honest kid, from what I knew of him - will soon be coming home in a body bag, after an attempt to make it to the US took unknown turns for the worst.

People are not living in constant fear here like in the same manner that is happening in some of the border towns, but you can see it wearing down on everyone through the casual smiles and the handshakes, the empty restaurants or the small talk in the tranquil plaza at night. This constant grinding reminder of the risks of life around them is not what they want, and, more importantly, not at all who they are.

One afternoon, this was on my mind. Under the insanely powerful afternoon sun, a nearby river was pushing the brown, silty river water from the mountains into the clear blue ocean. With almost no wind, and no current this left a near straight line out to sea, dividing blue from brown. With one of the local kids - a super smiley high schooler, who works his family's farm when not schooling, surfing, or repairing boards - we were sitting right on this line. For about an hour with just the two of us, the waves would pops into view, breaking across this axis of brown and blue water. The more powerful rights offering a faster but shorter ride across the brown water, (demanding a quick kick-out before dying over a shallow bed of rock and sand), the mellower lefts offering slightly longer rides up and down the crystal blue shoulders of the waves.

We'd take turns with the sets (of waves) when they'd come, and talk about school and waves and girls and surfboards and Canada and whatever else while we waited for more waves to show up. This is the life everyone in town kept trying to convince me still exists. Out in the waves, it certainly feels that way. Even in town, it never feels dangerous.

Sitting in the water, its hard to accurately evaluate real life on shore and the risks involved. Its that neverland that still exists, despite it all. For right now, my reality is making a quick decision: will I go for the faster right or the mellower left on this incoming wave?

And I can't decide if I feel guilty or lucky about that.