Many families didn't have the resources to allow their children to study at home.
Almost 9 million students aged 3 to 29 abandoned their studies during the 2020-2021 school year due to the coronavirus pandemic, a lack of money or because they had to work, according to the national statistics agency Inegi.
Results of an Inegi survey on the pandemic’s impact on education show that 8.8 million children, teenagers and young adults were forced to abandon their studies this academic year, which began virtually last August.
That figure is higher than the entire population of Jalisco and almost equal to that of Mexico City (excluding the greater metropolitan area).
Of the 8.8 million students who stopped studying, 2.3 million did so for reasons directly related to the pandemic, 2.9 million left their educational institutions due to a lack of resources (meaning their families couldn’t afford to pay expenses associated with online learning) and 3.6 million made the decision because they had to work.
An additional 738,000 students abandoned their studies during the 2019-2020 school year. Almost 60% of that number cited the pandemic as the reason why they left.
The Inegi survey also found that students are dedicating significantly less time to their education while studying virtually at home. Only 11.8% of students spend eight hours per day or more attending virtual classes and doing schoolwork, while 48.3% spend three to five hours studying and 23.5% dedicate fewer than three hours of their time to their education.
In addition, the survey found that more than a quarter of households where students live had to purchase electronic devices and/or install internet service so that they could study during the suspension of in-person classes.
The most commonly cited advantage of virtual classes was that students’ health is not placed at risk while the No. 1 disadvantage was that learning is not as successful as it is in the classroom.
Manuel Gil Antón, an education researcher at the Colegio de México, told the newspaper El Universal that the pandemic has deepened educational inequality in Mexico.
Mexico’s poorest children – “the forgotten ones” – have been most affected by the shift to online learning and have left schools in the greatest numbers, he said.
Gil pointed out that poor households usually don’t have computers and charged that the Ministry of Public Education (SEP) “could have done things better.”
“It could have been more creative, delivered less generalized content,” he said.
Alma Maldonado, an education researcher at the National Polytechnic Institute, said the Inegi numbers are indicative of the failure of SEP’s education strategy during the pandemic. She asserted that its online curriculums have been largely irrelevant to students’ needs and have failed to appeal to them.
Maldonado also said there has been a lack of support for teachers giving the virtual classes, although she acknowledged that educators have done their best. She asserted that it will take years to recover pre-pandemic school enrollment levels.
Schools closed due to the pandemic a year ago and have not reopened in any state in the country, but President López Obrador said Thursday morning that classes could resume soon in Chiapas, Veracruz, Sonora and Chihuahua, depending on the coronavirus risk level as established by the stoplight risk map. Sonora, Campeche and Chiapas are already green, the color at which schools may reopen.
A large association of private schools, many of which have seen their revenue plummet during the pandemic due to students moving to public schools, called for its members to reopen on March 1 but the Education Ministry quickly warned that reopening would be a violation of government policy.
Unusual rock formations are the attraction at Hierve el Agua.
Community landowners in San Lorenzo Albarradas, Oaxaca, have announced the closure of the Hierve el Agua tourist attraction because the revenue it generates hasn’t benefited the local area.
A lawyer for the landowners told a press conference Wednesday that access to the site, which includes natural rock pools and a petrified waterfall, will be closed to both tour groups and visitors who arrive independently.
Eder Salinas Cortés said that local residents have fought for 18 years against political groups and tourism companies that benefit financially from the site, located about 70 kilometers southeast of Oaxaca city.
“It’s political groups and tourism companies that receive all the royalties … and the community remains mired in poverty; there are no roads, no schools, no drinking water. The situation is alarming,” he said.
“The people are tired, this [press] conference is to advise domestic and foreign tourists that [Hierve el Agua] will be closed. Don’t let yourself be fooled because nobody … will be allowed to enter,” said a representative for the residents.
Rock formations look like waterfalls at the Oaxaca tourist attraction.
Salinas said Governor Alejandro Murat, who has been in office for more than four years, made a promise while on the campaign trail in 2016 to address the tourism revenue issue if elected.
“I think he forgot or who knows what happened,” he said, adding that other government officials have also failed to respond to requests for meetings.
Salinas said that cronyism and political protection has allowed political parties and political figures to benefit from the Hierve el Agua site. Among the beneficiaries he cited were the Social Democratic Party and Jorge Vargas Franco, a former secretary general of the Oaxaca government.
“… In the end they have prevented the population from receiving the benefits,” Salinas said.
The Hierve el Agua site generates about 2 million pesos (US $96,000) per month in revenue, according to landowners, but none of that money is spent in the local area.
“We’re asking for an apology, … it’s not fair that about 2 million pesos a month that could be used to pave streets or help the community is used to enrich politicians and fund political campaigns,” Salinas said.
Landowners said the situation could lead to violence. “Any … act of violence there is, we will blame the state governor, Alejandro Ismael Murat,” they said.
Only parents desperate to give their child a better life would send them on a dangerous migration to the US alone.
Opening the news apps on my phone almost the minute I wake up is a habit I’m trying to get out of, but so far, I’ve been unsuccessful. It’s depressing, and exactly none of us needs more depressing. But I also want to know what’s going on in the world, so here we are.
This morning when I was once again unable to avoid the pull, I was greeted with a harrowing photo editorial about families deported from the United States shortly after arrival: a mother crying, her 5-year-old daughter standing at her feet and her 2-year-old son, with a full and dirty diaper, in her arms. A father with his young daughter, struggling to keep his face from contorting as he cried, trying to get cell phone reception to let his family know that they didn’t make it after all. The bitterness of the pictures was almost too much to handle.
They’d been taken to the bridge between El Paso (where they’d recently been flown) and Ciudad Juárez, and then essentially dumped on the Mexico side of the bridge. They hadn’t been told where they were being taken before that and must have felt trapped in a nightmare when they realized what was happening.
The huge number of migrants showing up on the United States’ southern border is a challenge if there ever was one, and it’s all the greater in the midst of a pandemic.
After president Donald Trump’s senselessly cruel policies that separated children from their parents at the border (some of whom have yet to be found and reunited), many have assumed, wrongly, that the current administration’s talk of “a gentler approach” meant that the border would simply be open to whoever wanted to show up and get in.
Desperate migrants making their way north are no doubt occupied with many things besides being glued to the news in order to check out the policy du jour, but I’d be willing to bet that Republicans’ hyperbolic fearmongering about “open borders” and “free health care” — neither of which are true — are getting back to migrants through traffickers eager to make a profit and are being treated as gospel by those with too few options to be skeptical.
Meanwhile, President Biden has left in place a Trump-era pandemic emergency rule that Border Patrol agents can turn back pretty much anyone, including families with small children, except unaccompanied minors.
It’s a problem that defies any kind of simple solution. “Don’t come” is a message that rings hollow when it’s coming from the equivalent of a slightly stern but ultimately civilized irritated rich guy in front of you while you’ve got the equivalent (and sometimes the very real personification) of a guy behind you with a gun pressing against your body.
It’s easy to scowl at and judge people when we’re the ones on the accommodating end. We humans are in the habit of doing that anyway, after all, especially when children are involved. “I just don’t understand how they could do all that with their kids!” is something I’ve seen many exclaim, as if these families had decided to flippantly use their children as gaming chips.
But I’d bet money that many of us in their same situation would do exactly the same thing given the chance … I know I would. And besides, another thing about desperate people: they don’t care that you’re scowling at and judging them. They’re just trying to live.
Think of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: someone who’s struggling to get their basic needs of safety, food and shelter met are not yet going to be worrying about what others think of them. One thing at a time.
We all want to live, preferably well, and we all especially want our children to live as well as they can — hopefully, better than us. Desperate people will always play the odds to get to where they’re most likely to survive. For many migrants showing up at the southern border, that ain’t their home countries where, presumably, they’d certainly prefer to stay if they could.
It ain’t Mexico either, apparently. And who can blame them? Though AMLO scoffed at the assertion that narcos control a third of Mexican territory, those who are dealing with the reality on the ground, and not from the National Palace, know what’s up. I often think of the perilous journey north as a video game: the hardest and most treacherous part is right before arrival. It’s darkest before the dawn and all that.
Not that the United States is sunrise. But if I were a vulnerable person having to bet on one or the other law enforcement systems to keep me safe, I’d bet on the U.S. every time. Mexico simply is not in a position to guarantee anyone’s safety. If they can’t reasonably provide it for their own citizens, what does that mean for migrants, an exceedingly more vulnerable group?
I can’t get the picture out of my mind of those parents sobbing together with their tear-streaked, unbathed children as they stood on the wrong side of the Ciudad Juárez bridge with the bitter realization that they’d been escorted out of the country that many had spent their life savings to get to. What would they do? Where would they go?
It would behoove the U.S. to help its next-door neighbor to the south, where so many rejected asylum seekers are being dumped indefinitely. The nation surely has enough on its plate, but so does Mexico. And in the end, dealing with seas of desperate people is everyone’s problem, especially when they’re so pessimistic about their prospects that they’ll send their kids on their own to give them a fighting chance.
That’s some “I’ll stay back here and maybe die, but you go on and try to find happiness” level stuff, y’all. And all of us would do the same for our children if it came to that. Surely there’s more we can do collectively than ensuring they stay locked in their own impossible communities to deal with whatever atrocities knock on their doors alone.
When I saw those pictures of the parents losing their last bit of hope for them and their children, I saw myself. There but for the grace of God go us all, people. Here’s to finding humane and empowering solutions.
And some fresh diapers, for goodness sake.
Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, sdevrieswritingandtranslating.com.
To chants of “legal weed boosts morale” and the spectacle of a legislator rolling a joint, Mexico’s lower house of Congress passed a sweeping legalization of marijuana this month. The measure, which President López Obrador is expected to sign into law within the next month, will allow Mexicans to grow several marijuana plants at home, purchase cannabis from licensed vendors and possess up to 28 grams for recreational use.
The consequences are likely to be felt beyond Mexico’s borders. The U.S., architect of the global war on drugs, finds itself sandwiched between two neighbours that are legalizing marijuana (Canada decriminalized it in 2018). More than a dozen U.S. states already allow recreational use of the drug and Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer has pledged to push legislation this year to end the federal prohibition of marijuana.
Advocates of legal marijuana, including several former heads of government, claim a low risk of harm from the drug and cite the benefits of prising the trade from the grip of illegal cartels: the opportunities for regulation, control of quality and taxation, as well as freeing up police for other law enforcement priorities. A previous Mexican president and outspoken supporter of legalization, Vicente Fox, has put his money where his mouth is and joined the board of a Canadian-Colombian medical cannabis company.
Opponents argue that the health risks of regular marijuana use have been underestimated. They see dangers of legalization leading to increased addiction and of the drug acting as a gateway to other, more powerful, illegal narcotics. A majority of Mexicans appear to share those views; according to a recent poll, 58% oppose legalization.
Whatever the pros and cons of Mexico’s marijuana move, experts agree that it is unlikely to dent the enormous power of the drug cartels or their propensity for appalling violence. The country has paid a terrible price for its location as a key shipment point for drugs entering the lucrative U.S. market, with more than 300,000 homicides since 2006, many of them narcotics-related.
Although marijuana was the original illegal crop of choice for Mexican traffickers, they have diversified extensively in recent years into newer, more lethal and more profitable drugs, such as the synthetic opioid fentanyl. Many times more potent than heroin, fentanyl can be produced cheaply and easily using precursor chemicals from Asia and then smuggled across the border. Seizures of fentanyl rose 486% last year in Mexico, and confiscations of other hard drugs such as cocaine and heroin also increased sharply.
Supporters of legalization argue that addicts to hard drugs should be treated as medical rather than criminal cases — an approach taken by Portugal. Faced with one of Europe’s highest rates of drug-related deaths, the Iberian nation decriminalized possession and use of small amounts of all drugs in 2001, though not their sale or production (deaths have since fallen).
But given how dangerous some hard drugs are, even the most ardent decriminalizers struggle to explain how heroin or fentanyl could be produced, sold and used legally and safely. It is also not a given that legalization eliminates illegal drug-dealing; two years after permitting marijuana sales, Canada has found that underground sellers still thrive because they have a price advantage over (taxed) legal ones.
Legal weed may boost morale for some but the effect on the illegal drug trade — like that on the mind — is likely to be transitory.
Vicente Rojo’s life and art reflect many of the major events of 20th-century Mexico. He died on March 17.
“I guess at my age, death is around the corner, but it doesn’t worry me. When it comes, it comes,” said Spanish-Mexican artist Vicente Rojo at an event to honor his 89th birthday. Little did he know he would die only two days later on March 17, 2021.
The Mexican press is rightfully paying homage to this artist’s life and contributions to the country’s culture. He is considered one of the greats among the “Breakaway Generation,” artists that came of age in the 1950s and 1960s, rebelling against the nationalism and political focus of Mexico’s famous muralism movement.
Rojo’s life and art reflect many of the major events of 20th-century Mexico. Rojo was born in 1932 in Barcelona, Spain, to a family opposed to dictator Francisco Franco. When Rojo was 10, his father had to flee to Mexico, one of many Spanish Republicans who did so. Mexico offered asylum due to its own opposition to Franco’s fascism, and in return these Spanish refugees contributed greatly to the country’s literature, arts and publishing.
Rojo followed his father seven years later in 1949, part of a second wave of exiles fleeing repression. He not only managed to find his father on this side of the Atlantic, young Vincente discovered that he had a love and talent for art here as well.
Rojo and his generation succeeded in introducing international artistic trends into Mexico, but it was not easy. Muralists such as David Siqueiros objected that steering away from Mexico’s home-grown artistic movement invited imperialism from the United States. Rojo’s greatest contributions were in graphic arts, working with Mexico’s growing public and private publishing houses, but he was also a sculptor, creating a number of monumental public works.
Vicente Rojo with some of the 1985 earthquake dolls. Lourdes Almeida
It could be argued that Rojo’s contributions equal many of the artists of his generation, including José Luis Cuevas, Manuel Felguérez and Gilberto Aceves Navarro, who are far better known. But Rojo was also a designer, and in this capacity, made a contribution that none of these did.
One of the turning points in Mexico’s modern history was the 1985 Mexico City earthquake and its aftermath. The scale of destruction would challenge any government, but the city had made blunders before, during and after that shook the people’s confidence in their government. It is cited as one of the key factors in the eventual downfall of the PRI in 2000. Much of the death and destruction in 1985 was due to poor building codes and the lack of enforcement of the codes that did exist. This was very true for a section of the city dedicated to garment manufacturing just southeast of the main square. Workers here reported early for the day shift, were often shut into factories to prevent theft and worked on floors overcrowded with heavy machinery. This meant that when the 8.1 earthquake struck on September 19, factories collapsed, and many of the dead were the “seamstresses,” poor rural women who had migrated into the city to find work.
In addition, as many as 40,000 of their coworkers found themselves suddenly unemployed with literally no job to go back to. The government was too slow to react, so in the weeks afterwards, grassroots efforts arose to help these women.
One of these was to create a program to make and sell dolls using the sewing skills the women already had.
As a designer, Vicente Rojo was central to this effort. Many artists offered to help, but the designs for the dolls needed to be practical — easy and quick to make and easy to sell. After many of the women were organized, Rojo offered six themes for the dolls, on which they voted. The result was to focus on two dolls named Lucha (Struggle) and Victoria (Victory).
Thin, straight-haired Lucha represented the state the women found themselves in. Victory represented overcoming the catastrophe sometime in the future.
One version of the Victoria doll from the collection of organizer Tessa Brisac.
Rojo, despite his expertise, worked as a partner, not as a boss. He commented in a 1988 magazine interview that “… it gives me pleasure to collaborate with people who have been hit so hard by life … I made several drawings and let the seamstresses interpret them freely, using their own imagination. Fortunately, I feel this enriched and gave much life to their idea.”
The result was various interpretations of Lucha and Victoria during the years that the project was active. Rojo himself reinterpreted the idea three times. The Lucha and Victoria idea resonated with many sympathizers, drawing in additional support from individuals and institutions.
Rojo also donated an abstract doll design meant to represent multiple seamstresses hugging each other. The doll was made but was misinterpreted as a “donut” or “lifesaver.” In 1987–1988, he also donated a series of designs for cat figures with names like Blue-tailed Cat, Red-hearted Cat and Two-tailed Cat.
The success of the doll program led to an exhibit at one of Mexico City’s avant-garde museums, Carrillo Gill. Named “One called Victoria …” it consisted of 27 dolls by 20 artists working with various seamstresses. The women accepted doing the exhibit because they felt it would bring attention to their continued plight as Mexico City was slowly getting back on its feet. New versions of the exhibit were held annually from 1986 to 1990. There were even exhibitions of the dolls in other parts of Mexico, the U.S. and Europe.
However, by 1990, it was clear that the doll project was winding down as women and the country moved on. The project was never meant to be long term.
A number of Mexico’s newspapers are quoting writer Juan García Ponce (1932–2013) when Rojo would ask him about his health: “Don’t worry, Vicente, we are eternal.” Perhaps part of Rojo’s eternity will be in the memory of the women he helped, along with their descendants.
Leigh Thelmadatter arrived in Mexico 17 years ago and fell in love with the land and the culture. She publishes a blog called Creative Hands of Mexicoand her first book, Mexican Cartonería: Paper, Paste and Fiesta, was published last year. Her culture blog appears regularly on Mexico News Daily.
For a second consecutive year, Mexico is not among the 25 most attractive countries in the world for foreign investors, according to an index developed by the global consulting firm Kearney.
Mexico increased its score on the Kearney Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) Confidence Index – an annual survey of global business executives that ranks the markets likely to attract the most investment in the next three years – but was still unable to break into the top 25 countries.
Ricardo Haneine, a partner with Kearney and director of the company’s Mexico office, said the benefits brought to Mexico by the new North American free trade agreement, the USMCA, and the relocation here of companies that supply the United States market were insufficient for executives to see the country among the world’s most attractive investment markets.
The top three positions were unchanged on this year’s index with the United States remaining in first place followed by Canada and Germany. The United Kingdom rose two spots to fourth while Japan dropped one place to fifth.
Haneine specifically cited the government’s energy sector measures – the Congress recently passed a law that gives CFE-generated power priority on the national grid over that produced by private and renewable energy companies only to see it struck down by numerous court rulings – as a barrier to foreign investment.
However, ongoing trade tensions between the United States and China provide an opportunity for Mexico to attract new companies and increase exports, he said.
Kearney said there is currently “a clear predisposition for larger, more advanced markets” among investors.
“… This year marks the third time in the 23-year history of the index—and the third consecutive year—in which the top five spots are all held by developed economies,” Kearney said.
“This continued strong showing of advanced economies likely stems from conducive regulatory environments coupled with skilled workforces, advanced tech infrastructure, and economic stability.”
France, Australia, Italy, Spain and Switzerland rank sixth to 10th on the index. The only three developing economies among the 25 most attractive countries are China (12th), the United Arab Emirates (15th) and Brazil (24th).
Lighting a candle just before midnight on the Saturday before Easter. Photos by Joseph Sorrentino
Around 7:00 p.m. on Good Friday, 14 young men, members of a group known as Los Varones, gather in the entrance of the Church of San Gregorio Magno. They stand in silence, encircling a casket that holds a statue of the crucified Christ.
They’ve been up since before dawn, only having slept a few hours, and have already participated in hours-long processions through San Gregorio Atlapulco, a pueblo in Mexico City. They’ve been fasting since Wednesday night.
The group will soon begin the Silent Procession, in which they carry the casket, which weighs about 250 pounds. The procession lasts almost seven hours. They’ll walk barefoot.
Octavio Flores worried as he waited.
“I worry because we walk far; we carry the heavy tomb with Jesus,” he said. “But I’m also happy because it is something unique in my life, something incomparable, a joy. It is difficult physically but not mentally because I have faith.”
Los Varones perform various religious tasks during the year.
The name Los Varones comes from the Franciscan missionaries who are also called Los Santos Varones (varón usually translates as “young man,” but here it refers to someone who’s chaste). It’s believed that the Franciscans began to organize young men into the group that exists today back in the early 17th century. The group in San Gregorio appears to be the only one of its kind in the world.
While Los Varones perform various tasks during the year, their main work happens during Holy Week, when they organize virtually all the events to mark the religious days. But demands are put on them well before that week: they prepare physically for months since they’ll be carrying heavy statues for hours during processions.
“We will carry a heavy table, run, do pushups,” said Flores. “We will put another person on our back and climb stairs.” They also prepare spiritually, attending more Masses.
There are more challenges during cuaresma, a period which for these young men lasts from Ash Wednesday until Easter Sunday, or 53 days.
“You cannot have contact with your girlfriend,” said Alberto Casas García, the group’s leader. “You cannot smoke, drink alcohol, dance or go to fiestas.”
Ricardo Castro, who’s been a varón for two years, admitted, “Those days, yes, it is hard because you have to be in the church. There is so much work for us. For me, the challenge is my relationship with my girlfriend, but she is very understanding.”
In a mixture of Christian and indigenous rituals, the Virgen de Doloroso represents both the Virgin Mary and the moon during a Holy Thursday procession.
On Palm Sunday, two varones carry the statue of Jesus astride a donkey through the pueblo, trailed by the other members of the group, as well as 12 boys dressed as Apostles and a few hundred people. After the palms are blessed by the priest, the procession heads to the home of the síndico, where a meal is provided for over 100 guests. The síndico, which roughly translates to administrator, also provides the meal for the Last Supper.
“My family helps, but it is my responsibility to organize everything,” said Uriel Avelino Ávalos, who was the síndico in 2019. “I waited eight years. I want to do it for the church, for God.”
On Wednesday, the church altars are decorated with fruit, some of it tied together with rope. “The fruit represent the tears of the Virgin, which becomes food for the people,” said Javier Márquez Juárez, who has written about ceremonies in San Gregorio. “Altars with fruit are only found in San Gregorio, not other pueblos.”
On Holy Thursday, the 12 boys representing the Apostles sit at long tables for the reenactment of the Last Supper. They’re served soup, fish, chile relleno and rice. Los Varones, who are fasting, stand nearby while other people enjoy bread and atole (a hot drink made from corn) provided by the síndico.
After the meal, the priest washes the feet of the Apostles, trailed by the síndico, who places a crown of thorns on each Apostle’s head and hands them a coin. “This represents the money that was given to Judas,” Avelino said.
The silent procession begins as night falls. A white cloth covers the eyes of the statue called Padre Jesús. “This represents the fact that Jesus will soon die,” said Castro.
These carpets of sawdust are carefully designed beforehand.
The statue is carried east while the Virgen de Doloroso (Virgin of Sorrow) statue heads west.
“In this way, Christ represents the sun and Mary the moon,” said Márquez. “They will meet … and return together to the church.” When they meet, the figure’s handkerchief is removed, “so Jesus can see his mother,” said Castro.
Then early in the morning on Good Friday, Los Varones place a large wooden cross on Padre Jesús and carry the statue through the pueblo, making stops at the the town’s 14 chapels. They’re accompanied by singers, who perform alabanzas, slow, mournful songs. At each chapel, the procession walks on tapetes de aserrín, which are beautiful designs made from colored sawdust that people have spent hours creating.
In the mid-afternoon, Los Varones exit the church dressed in white shirts — signifying purity — and black pants, which signify sorrow and death. They walk barefoot, lining up in front of the crosses holding Jesus and the two thieves who were crucified with him. On either side sit two young women, who must be single and childless, representing Mary Magdalene and St. Veronica. Two varones climb ladders to the top of the cross holding the Christ figure.
“The steps of the ladder hurt your feet,” said Ricardo Serralde. “There is the sun. But with devotion, you forget all that.”
They slowly remove the crown, nails and Christ figure using white handkerchiefs. “We are not allowed to touch the figure with our hands because we are not pure,” said Castro. It takes over an hour to lower the figure, which is placed in a coffin covered with red rose petals.
On Easter morning, Los Varones distribute holy water with the rose petals that adorned Christ’s coffin during the procession on Good Friday.
The final procession begins at 7:00 pm, the coffin carried by six, sometimes eight, of Los Varones. As the procession moves through the pueblo, they’ll climb steep stairs or inclines, stopping again at the chapels, where neighbors provide bread and atole to the crowd. But it’s not until they reach the Calvario Chapel that the men finally take some sustenance, each drinking a glass or two of orange juice.
The Fuego Nuevo (New Fire) is lit just before midnight on Saturday. The síndico lights a large candle from it, and then people light their candles off his. Then, all lights and candles are extinguished and a Mass is held. Then the candles are relit as the church bell rings, a conch shell is sounded and traditional Aztec drums are beaten.
On Sunday morning, Los Varones distribute holy water containing rose petals that had adorned Christ’s coffin and hand out chamomile. The fruit that decorated the altars is passed out. The mood is festive and Los Varones, who have slept no more than 10 hours over three days, look alert and happy.
When asked how they can do what they do during Holy Week, every member talked about his faith. But one wordless gesture by Ricardo Castro perhaps explained it best. We were in a chapel around 1:00 a.m. after the Good Friday procession. Castro made eye contact and raised his head as if to ask, “What do you think?” All I could say was “incredible.”
He smiled and pointed one finger heavenward.
Joseph Sorrentino, a writer, photographer and author of the book San Gregorio Atlapulco: Cosmvisiones, is a regular contributor to Mexico News Daily. More examples of his photographs and links to other articles may be found at www.sorrentinophotography.com He currently lives in Chipilo, Puebla.
One of the big cats at the Northern Jaguar Reserve in Sonora.
New video footage of a young male jaguar on a ranch in northern Sonora has given conservationists hope that North America’s only big cat could soon be seen in greater numbers in northern Mexico and the southern United States.
Researchers captured footage of a jaguar dubbed “El Bonito” (The Beautiful) on four cameras since December 2020.
Owned by a Sonora-based conservation organization called Cuenca Los Ojos, the ranch where the jaguar was filmed is just a few kilometers south of the point where the Arizona, New Mexico and Mexico borders intersect, a location where construction of the border wall stopped just two months ago.
“It was like finding a needle in a haystack,” said Ganesh Marin, a doctoral student at the University of Arizona and a National Geographic explorer who has set up about 100 camera traps at the ranch.
Gerardo Cabellos, a wildlife researcher at the National Autonomous University, told National Geographic that the sighting of a juvenile jaguar so close to the border suggests that the species’ breeding range is extending north.
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New jaguar in the US-Mexico borderlands
He said the jaguar was likely born less than 100 kilometers south of the border in Sonora, where there are believed to be as many as 200 of the cats.
Cabellos said that jaguars are now breeding “on the doorstep of the United States,” where the animals were exterminated by hunters in the 19th and 20th centuries.
Only seven male jaguars have been seen in the southern part of Arizona in the last 25 years, meaning that the sighting of one just a few kilometers across the border is big news.
Marin said the sighting, and a study that found that much of central Arizona and New Mexico is prime jaguar habitat, emphasize the importance of maintaining binational wildlife corridors, some of which were affected by the construction of former U.S. president Donald Trump’s border wall.
“Maintaining open wildlife corridors is hugely important,” said Eric Sanderson, lead author of a paper on the study and a researcher with the Wildlife Conservation Society. “After all, wildlife don’t have passports.”
To extend into the United States, the jaguar population in Sonora needs to grow, National Geographic reported. But while efforts have been made to protect them in Mexico, such as by offering incentives to landowners, ranchers still sometimes kill jaguars after they have attacked their cattle. The survival of the species is also threatened by prey depletion and the construction of new roads.
But despite the threats, Marin believes that the sighting of the young jaguar indicates that conservation efforts are helping to protect the apex predator to some extent.
“We have a lot of things to do but if we continue, the females and the cubs will come to the borderlands soon,” he said.
Ash falling from the skies. Hundreds of people evacuated. The destruction of federally protected land. These are some of the consequences of one of the worst forest fire seasons in a decade.
According to a report by the National Forestry Commission (Conafor) Mexico had recorded 1,684 forest fires as of March 11, affecting 29,559 hectares of land, the third most extensive loss of forest lands in Mexico in a decade, the report said.
And the fight is by no means over: last month, Conafor issued a warning that Mexico was in danger of experiencing a critical forest fire season this year. As of Wednesday, the federal agency said Mexico was battling 61 active forest fires in 20 states, representing 11,478 hectares of land.
That’s up from 52 fires in 17 states on 14,160 hectares on Tuesday. Conafor said 2,844 firefighters were at working on the blazes.
A major reason for the high number of fires is Mexico’s wide-ranging drought. As of March 15, the National Water Commission (Conagua) said that 1,694 of Mexico’s 2,643 municipalities, or 83%, were in drought conditions. In December, the agency declared seven of Mexico’s northeastern states to be in a state of natural disaster due to drought.
A firefighter at work at one of 61 active fires burning in Mexico.
Meanwhile, this year’s La Niña weather phenomenon is only increasing drought conditions.
The consequences of such dry conditions are clear in two northern states, where fires in the Sierra de Arteaga region of Coahuila and the Sierra de Santiago region of Nuevo León have destroyed more than 2,000 hectares of land and displaced 400 people, according to Forbes México. In Monterrey last week, residents saw ash falling from the sky due to that fire and an ongoing fire in the nearby Cumbres de Monterrey protected reserve, where 2,100 hectares of land were threatened.
Cumbres de Monterrey is just one of 14 federally protected reserves that currently have areas on fire, according to Conafor. Another is the Sierra de Manantlán, which in the last few years has been identified as part of Mexico’s jaguar corridor.
Meanwhile, Conafor is working with a continually shrinking budget and financial resources that states battling wildfires could normally turn to for help have been dismantled in the last year. In 2016, Conafor’s budget was 7 billion pesos, according to the newspaper La Jornada. This year’s budget is a mere 2.76 billion, an 8.6% cut from last year. Meanwhile, President López Obrador eliminated the Natural Disaster Fund, known as Fonden. It was one of more than 100 trusts, or fideicomisos, eliminated by the federal government.
There doesn’t seem to be much good news on the horizon for emergency crews in the coming days: a high-pressure weather system is expected to keep temperatures hot in the northeast and in many other areas of the nation.
Attolini's statement generated a lot of comments on social media. Among them: 'The brown-nosing is out of control.'
A Morena party candidate for deputy in Coahuila has been both criticized and praised after comparing President López Obrador to Jesus Christ and some of the world’s most revered leaders.
Antonio Attolini, who wants to represent the city of Torreón in the lower house of Congress, made the comparison in an interview broadcast on Monday, saying that López Obrador could be described as “similar to the greatest leaders in history” because of his dedication to “the idea of sacrifice in the name of something bigger.”
Probed about the leaders to whom he was referring, Attolini told the program Tragaluz:
“Jesus Christ, of course, Mahatma Gandhi, [Martin] Luther King, [Nelson] Mandela; he’s at that level.”
Attolini, 30, also said that AMLO, as the president is commonly known, has been inspired by Mexico’s “great leaders,” including former presidents Benito Juárez and Lázaro Cárdenas and independence hero Miguel Hidalgo.
“There hasn’t been a social leader in this country who dedicates so much time of his life to thinking about others,” he said.
The candidate, a former aspirant to the Morena party national presidency, said that he was speaking of his own accord, asserting that the National Palace – the seat of executive power – had not instructed him what to say and what not to say during the interview.
His Jesus-AMLO analogy triggered an outpouring of commentary on social media.
“I met Attolini when he was the complete opposite of what he is today; people change when they cross the line of opportunistic fanaticism. Their reasoning is clouded and they say complete nonsense,” Angélica de la Peña, a former Democratic Revolution Party (PRD) senator and deputy, wrote on Twitter.
Fernando Belaunzarán, another former PRD lawmaker, wrote on the same platform that it’s known that the president likes to be flattered and for that reason “the brown-nosing competition is out of control.”
Alejandro Rosas, a writer, simply called the candidate an “idiot” while comedian and YouTuber Chumel Torres wrote that Attolini’s remarks made him want to give him a “good whack.”
In contrast, political analyst Abraham Mendieta described the candidate’s performance on the program as “excellent.”
