Trash discarded in the streets that accumulates at drains is a major cause of the capital's annual problems with flooding. Borough of Miguel Hidalgo/Twitter
Garbage collectors have removed a huge quantity of trash from Mexico City dams, drains and streets over the past four months as authorities aim to mitigate flooding during the rainy season.
Guillermo Ayala, an official with the Mexico City Risk Management and Civil Protection Ministry, said that almost 182,000 cubic meters of trash have been removed from 121 key locations.
The newspaper Reforma reported that the quantity is sufficient to completely fill Estadio Azteca, the huge soccer stadium on the capital’s south side.
Ayala said that the accumulation of trash – which frequently clogs drains – is “the main and only reason” for flooding in the capital. The problem is particularly bad in Mexico City’s most densely populated areas, he said, apparently referring to boroughs such as Iztapalapa and Gustavo A. Madero.
Littering – including the disposal of refuse by businesses, especially those with street stalls – is the main cause of the problem, which appears to be getting worse. The quantity of garbage collected between February and June was 57% higher than in the same period of last year.
Ayala said that the amount of trash has increased this year because there are more people on the street due to the decline of the pandemic. He also said that there were fewer workers to collect trash in 2020 and 2021 due to high levels of absenteeism associated with the pandemic.
One of the locations where massive quantities of rubbish accumulate is on Zaragoza Road near the Santa Martha Acatitla women’s prison in Iztapalapa.
Ayala said that 25 tonnes of trash were collected there in one 36-hour period. He blamed heavy foot traffic and the presence of a tianguis, or open-air market, for the large amount of litter.
Flooding is common in parts of Mexico City during the rainy season, which usually starts in late May or early June and concludes in October.
A massive drainage tunnel was built to reduce flooding, but inundations in the capital will likely remain an annual occurrence as long as people continue to litter.
Federal consumer protection agency Profeco tested 17 milk brands on the market and found violations, including one that couldn't legally be called milk.
One of 17 brands of milk for sale in Mexico tested by the federal consumer protection agency Profeco was not actually milk due to the ingredients added to it, while some others had incorrect labels or packaging.
For the June edition of its magazine Revista del Consumidor, Profeco analyzed eight full-cream milks and nine others.
The agency declared that Los 19 Hermanos full-cream milk is not in fact milk because it contains vegetable fat.
“It turns out that a milk made in the highlands of Jalisco is not milk because they add vegetable fat, and that can’t be done,” said Profeco chief Ricardo Sheffield. “People feel that the milk is creamy but it’s not — because it contains soy,” he said.
The Los Hermanos 19 brand emphasizes its lower-than-average prices, but Profeco says its full-cream milk contains soy.
The producer, a family company called Los 19 Hermanos, will be fined.
Profeco also found that one of the company’s products didn’t have as much milk as its packaging says. Liter bags of Los 19 Hermanos milk sold in lots of three contained as little as 964 milliliters. Profeco detected a deficit of 107 ml across one lot of three-liter bags.
Another swindler was the Querétaro full cream milk brand. Profeco found that its 1.89 liter bottles contained up to 75 ml less than the amount printed on the label.
Two Lala milk products also fell foul of Profeco’s analysis. Neither the Lala 100 Fresca lactose-free, low carb, partially skimmed milk nor the Lala 100 Fresca lactose-free partially skimmed milk contains enough non-fat solids to be considered lactose-free milk. In addition, neither milk met density requirements for lactose-free milk.
“The process to which these products are subjected to eliminate lactose results in the density parameters and the quantity of non-fat solids being lower than required,” Profeco said.
The milk brands that passed Profeco’s analysis without a hitch are listed below:
A man in a Oaxaca community receives aid from a member of Mexico's navy. images from Civil Protection Mexico
Eight thousand food packages and over 33,000 liters of water are among the supplies that have been flown to Oaxaca for victims of Hurricane Agatha.
Five military planes have flown supplies from the Felipe Ángeles International Airport near Mexico City to the airport in Huatulco, located about 50 kilometers from where the Category 2 hurricane made landfall on Monday.
Ten thousand blankets and an equal number of sleeping mats have also reached the Oaxaca coast, as have five teams of emergency health personnel.
The military is using eight helicopters to distribute the supplies to Pochutla, Puerto Ángel, Zipolite, Mazunte, La Herradura, El Limón, Pluma Hidalgo, Derramadero, Bajos de Coyol, El Copilita, Xanica and Santa María Huatulco, the army said in a statement.
Members of the military deliver food and water to residents of Oaxaca by helicopter.
Some communities have been cut off due to mudslides and flooding caused by heavy rain brought by Agatha.
A community kitchen and water purification plant have been set up in Huatulco for the benefit of hurricane victims.
The army also said that almost 3,000 members of the armed forces and National Guard have evacuated people at risk, removed trees and vehicles from roads, cleared mud, cleaned homes, distributed food, attended to people in shelters, offered medical assistance and set up shelters.
Some 120 military vehicles have been deployed to assist the search, rescue, damage repair and cleanup efforts, to which municipal and state authorities are also contributing.
The hurricane claimed at least nine lives — two fewer than previously reported — and four people remained missing as of early Thursday.
Cecilia Cahum Cahum and her niece Melany Ariana Cahum Chan hang out at the pond near their Maya community in the jungle, only a short drive and a hike away from bustling Tulum. Molly Ferrill
Cecilia Cahum Cahum and her family have lived in a traditional Maya community in the jungle since she was a small child. Located only an hour’s drive from Tulum, the community has made a living from tourism for years, but when the COVID-19 pandemic hit, things changed.
In a meeting between five Maya communities, Cecilia’s family and others decided to isolate themselves completely from the outside world. “Since we know how to farm and survive in the jungle, we decided to protect ourselves from the virus that way,” she explained.
Cecilia and her brothers gave up their jobs in the city and joined the community where, for six months, no one was allowed to come or go for any reason. They cultivated beans, squash, corn, sweet potatoes, and other vegetables, and raised chickens. None of the community members came down with COVID.
When they emerged from isolation, over 1,000 people had died of the virus in their state of Quintana Roo — and indigenous people who caught it had been hit the hardest.
Cecilia’s brother Victor Facundo Cahum Cahum farms the land every day in the jungle, often finding birds’ nests and other signs of wildlife surrounding the community. Molly Ferrill
Stretching from Cancún to Tulum, Mexico’s Riviera Maya depends heavily on tourism. Mexico remained open to air travel throughout the pandemic, with no testing, quarantine, or vaccine requirements, and over 35 million international tourists visited the country between January 2020 and August 2021. In the period from January to August in 2021, more international tourists flew into Cancún than any other Mexican city, according to Tourism Ministry data.
Alarming statistics began to surface early in the pandemic. Many people working in tourism in the Riviera Maya caught the virus, but the fatality rate for those who tested positive for coronavirus in Mexico was roughly 50% higher for indigenous people than it was for the rest of the population during the first year of the pandemic, according to analysis by the data journalism organization Data Crítica.
Health inequities and financial and social barriers were all found to be contributing factors; studies linked this disproportionate fatality rate to the presence of comorbidities like high blood pressure and diabetes in the indigenous population, likely due to a lower quality diet which put them at higher risk for COVID-related complications.
Risk of exposure was also especially high for many indigenous people in the Riviera Maya; the highest COVID death toll of indigenous people in Mexico was registered in the Cancún area, where many hold informal jobs in tourism. Some indigenous people like the members of Cecilia’s community, however, had the option and the necessary expertise to leave their jobs and return to a rural lifestyle, a choice that illuminated the community’s strengths and knowledge and may have saved lives.
Cecilia’s niece Dayami Xareni Cahum Dzul plays with a dog at home in their community. Molly Ferrill
According to Rommel Santiago Salazar Perera, a Maya nurse and farmer, isolation from the increased COVID risk presented by the tourism industry isn’t the only reason that indigenous people might be better off in rural areas than they are in the cities of the Riviera Maya. Returning to a traditional farming lifestyle is a health advantage in itself because farmers harvest and consume their own produce, which provides better nutrition than an average indigenous family might be able to afford in the city.
Salazar himself benefits from a government program called Sembrando Vida (Sowing Life), through which many indigenous and non-indigenous farmers are paid for their farming work and are provided with fruit, spice, and timber trees. Jesús Ariel Suaste Salazar, an indigenous regional leader of the Sembrando Vida program, said the project has allowed many indigenous people in the areas surrounding the Riviera Maya to live in the countryside during the COVID-19 pandemic and fully support themselves through farming.
Unlike Cecilia’s community, some of these indigenous farmers did not isolate completely during the pandemic, and some did catch COVID-19, but Suaste said that due to the overall superior health of the rural indigenous community, many of those who got sick were able to recover easily at home. The spread of the virus was also slower, since farmers in rural areas had more space to isolate themselves from family members than those living in cramped conditions in the city.
While the role of indigenous people in the typical tourism model of the Riviera Maya has historically placed them in low-income, high-COVID exposure roles that likely contributed to the high number of indigenous deaths in the area, indigenous-led ecotourism initiatives are now surfacing that capitalize on their own culture and knowledge of the natural world. The initiatives have allowed these communities to benefit more directly and control their own health risks and safety during the pandemic.
Jesús Ariel Suaste Salazar and his wife pick limes in their garden a few hours away from the Riviera Maya. They both got sick with COVID early in the pandemic, but they were able to recover at home. They attribute their quick recovery to their eating a healthy traditional Maya diet of fruits and vegetables from their farm, which is supported in part through the Mexican government’s Sembrando Vida program. Molly Ferrill
Although Cecilia’s family was able to survive on subsistence farming during their isolation, they now hope to increase their income and capitalize on the booming tourism industry nearby as pandemic risks subside. They are currently working to further develop an ecotourism program they had started before the pandemic; she and her family are welcoming tourists into their community to learn about their way of life in the jungle, spend time in nature, and taste the traditional food grown and prepared there.
The family also plans to expand their sustainable farm: “We haven’t forgotten how to live the traditional way, and we feel that it is important to keep the farm going,” explained Cecilia’s brother, Victor Facundo Cahum Cahum.
Cecilia’s family is part of a larger movement to establish successful indigenous-led ecotourism programs across the region. The indigenous cooperative “Community Tours Sian Ka’an” takes tourists out on boats to learn about the ecosystem and wildlife species in the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve, a UNESCO world heritage site near Tulum. Tourists can also learn about Maya culture through visits to archaeological sites within the reserve.
The cooperative was able to continue the tours for much of the pandemic with low risk of COVID since their activities are outdoors and workers can keep their distance from tourists. Roman Caamal Coh, general manager of the cooperative, said he hopes this type of ecotourism can continue to grow and empower indigenous people. With increasing interest from tourists in nature- and culture-based experiences, indigenous-run ecotourism programs are now meeting a growing demand.
A member of the Maya ecotourism group “Community Tours Sian Ka’an” operates a tourist boat in the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve. The reserve holds special meaning for the local Maya community; its name means “where the sky is born.” Tourism slowed early in the pandemic, but has now picked back up, providing an income for the indigenous tour guides. Molly Ferrill
It remains to be seen what will happen in the Riviera Maya as the pandemic continues to unfold. The spread of COVID-19 has revealed underlying inequities in communities across the world, and in the touristic Riviera Maya it has brought to light a need to address social and health justice for indigenous people, many of whom were heavily impacted by the virus before the option to vaccinate became available.
However, the pandemic has also revealed great strengths in the indigenous community in Mexico, such as the ability of many local indigenous people to protect themselves by returning to a traditional rural lifestyle as Cecilia’s community did, and it has helped spark the development of new indigenous-run projects in the region. Many leaders of indigenous-led ecotourism programs hope to carry their businesses into the post-pandemic world, empowering an indigenous population that has faced marginalization in the past.
They believe that the indigenous connection to nature and the land can contribute to the health, safety, and prosperity of local communities as well as that of the broader tourism industry as they begin to lead projects that capitalize on their own unique set of knowledge and experience.
During tours of the community, Cecilia’s mother Aurelia Cahum Balam shows visitors how she makes traditional Maya meals with fresh ingredients from the farm. Molly Ferrill
In line to receive the second dose of the Pfizer vaccine, Dulce María explained that a woman had stopped by her house on her way to Cancún to get vaccinated, and she decided to go too. Dulce María had been isolated in her house in a rural area during the entire pandemic, and was excited to be able to start leaving the house safely again. Molly Ferrill
Laysa Guadalupe Yam Un sits in the room where she quarantined from her family when she came down with COVID. She was able to recover quickly at home, and none of her family members caught the virus. Laysa is a Maya farmer and a beneficiary of the Sembrando Vida program, and lives a few hours outside the Riviera Maya. Molly Ferrill
Gustavo Cruz Mendez, María Montejo Días, and Isaias Altunar Hernandez all come from different indigenous communities in Chiapas, Mexico, and moved to the Riviera Maya for work. They all feel proud of their heritage, and speak different indigenous languages. They say that many indigenous people feel ashamed to speak with them in their indigenous languages due to the prejudice that is held by many against indigenous people in the country. Gustavo and María got sick with COVID early in the pandemic, and recovered with the help of traditional medicinal plants grown in their own yard combined with mainstream medicine. Molly Ferrill
Cecilia’s brother Efrain Cahum explains the rural lifestyle of the community to a group of tourists from France soon after the reopening of the community for ecotourism. Molly Ferrill
This project was funded by the National Geographic Society.
Photos of a sandwich vendor's stall before and after a Cuauhtémoc borough order that all such signage be replaced with the city government's logo. (Rotuloschidos/Pintura Fresca/Instagram)
When is the painting of a public space blight and when is it something to be valued?
Last year, borough Mayor Sandra Cuevas began a program called the Integrated Journey to Improve the Urban Environment (Jornada Integral de Mejoramiento del Entorno Urbano). Her stated goal is cleaning and organizing the borough, which encompasses the oldest sections of Mexico City. However, some of her efforts have sparked controversy.
All over Mexico City, especially in its lower-class neighborhoods, there are permanent metal stalls on the sidewalk. Most are occupied by food vendors, but they can have other businesses such as those related to cell phones, shoes and even haircuts.
Traditionally, these stalls are decorated with lettering announcing the business’s name as well as images related to it. They are hand-painted by people who do this for a living. These naïf paintings are called rótulos (literally “labels”).
Rotulistas (sign artists) are untrained painters who do all sorts of decorative advertising and signage across Mexico. Adam Jones/Wikimedia Commons
But if you walk around Cuauhtémoc lately, the permanent stalls are now plain white with nothing but the logo of the borough government.
On Twitter, Cuevas explained that the change was part of the “order and discipline” her borough government promotes to improve the look of the streets. Merchants were required to do the painting themselves or face fines.
The loss of the colorful images sparked strong backlash on social media, getting the attention of the Mexico City media. Merchants were told to destroy what is considered by many an aspect of the city’s popular culture and instead promote the government itself. Instead of seeing what you might want across the street, all you see now is a wall of white.
Cuevas perhaps did not improve matters at a May 20 press conference, in which she defended her decision to erase the signs, but then also said as an aside, that they are not art. “They may be the usos y costumbres of Mexico City, but it’s not art.”
For context, it’s useful to know that the Cuevas government is also responsible for the destruction of a number of murals that were painted with permission from previous administrations, including one at the Juárez market near the upscale Roma neighborhood.
Opponents argue that rotulistas’ signs are part of a long tradition of public art. Cuauhtémoc borough Mayor Sandra Cuevas says she wants to bring the borough visual unity. Pintura Fresca/Instagram
In 2020, artist Sego y Ovbal painted Woman in Dialogue with Progress on one of the outer walls of the market. This past March, workers from the borough painted it over with orange paint, causing an uproar in the market and the surrounding community.
Cuevas denies ordering the mural’s destruction and that she is trying to eliminate “any urban expression” in the borough. She fired two of the workers responsible for the mural’s erasure and is negotiating to have it repainted in the same place by the same artist, she said.
People being upset over the elimination of murals is easy enough to understand: the art form has been a major part of modern Mexican culture — even those of the graffiti type — with individuals, private organizations and government agencies encouraging the creation of new artworks, often with themes related to culture and politics. But this uproar — over eliminating what is essentially advertising — might be a little more difficult to understand. But it does make some sense if you know Mexico’s history.
Hand-painted lettering and images to promote businesses and economic events emerged in Mexico around the same time that modern muralism did. At the beginning of the 20th century, many Mexicans were illiterate, so images of the product being promoted were very important, and even more so as small businesses proliferated as cities and the economy grew.
At a press conference, Cuauhtémoc Mayor Sandra Cuevas said the sign erasure order wasn’t meant as an offense to the artists, “but it’s not art,” she said of the signs.
There have been some issues with rótulos, especially large ones painted on public and other freestanding walls without permission, but those on the businesses themselves are sponsored by the owners. And they follow graphic design principles, which have a long and sophisticated history in Mexico.
Rotulistas are not formally trained artists for the most part, but Mexican culture is visually very demanding, especially in chaotic cities where there is much competition for the public’s attention. This cultural sophistication has been the basis of books, scholarly articles, documentaries and even collaborations with fine artists.
The struggle, according to photographer and cultural activist David Léspar, is between the majority of the residents of the borough and a small number of well-to-do residents, who are looking to gentrify the area.
The middle and lower classes are accustomed to and even expect an environment filled with certain colors, images and sounds as an expression of their culture. The upper classes have been exposed to life in developed countries north of Mexico and in Europe. They see the order and uniformity in cities such as London and Washington, DC as “progress.”
Sego y Ovbal’s Woman in Dialogue with Progress mural on an outer wall of Cuauhtémoc’s Juárez market, before and after it was painted over by borough workers. Cuevas later said the act was an error.
For further context: laws mandating certain appearances and limitations to garish advertising do indeed exist in Mexico, most often in colonial-era historic centers being preserved for tourism.
Such restrictions do make sense in places like the historic center of Mexico City, and more upscale neighborhoods such as Roma and Condesa. But Cuevas’ edict applies to the entire borough, even areas such as Doctores, Tepito, Guerrero and others that have always been working class/poor, with little or no attraction for gentrification other than, perhaps, their proximity to the historic center.
Although the Integrated Journey program is promoted as supporting street-based merchants, it has become a hard sell, taking away an important business tool while at the same time adding a significant number of reporting requirements and providing nothing that promotes what locals believe would make the situation better, such as support for better food hygiene.
Leigh Thelmadatter arrived in Mexico 18 years ago and fell in love with the land and the culture in particular its handcrafts and art. She is the author of Mexican Cartonería: Paper, Paste and Fiesta (Schiffer 2019). Her culture column appears regularly on Mexico News Daily.
Protesters carry a sign saying that the demonstrations were caused by "the CDMX government for not fulfilling agreements regarding the fare increase," and apologizing to the general public for the traffic "chaos."
Public transit operators – owners and/or drivers of buses, vans and minibuses called peseros – blocked at least 16 major roads in Mexico City Thursday to pressure the government to allow them to increase fares.
The transportistas, as the transport operators are known, are pushing for a 3-peso increase to minimum fares, which would lift them to 8 pesos (US $0.40).
Blockades began at 7 a.m. Thursday and were scheduled to continue until the afternoon but police managed to clear them sooner. Mexico City Governance Minister Martí Batres told a press conference late Thursday morning that all 16 blockades had been cleared.
“It’s worth pointing out that there were fewer blockades than expected. Secondly, the expectation was that these blockades would continue until three in the afternoon … but they were cleared before 11 a.m.,” he said.
Mexico City Governance Minister Martí Batres and transportation officials addressed Thursday’s planned protest at a press conference Wednesday evening. Twitter / @martibatres
The government had estimated that about 20% of 18,000 transportistas – who provide services that complement those offered by government-owned buses and trains – would participate in the blockades. Most of the protesters are part of a group called Fuerza Amplia de Transportistas, or FAT.
Among the roads blocked were Calzada Iganacio Zaragoza, Avenida Constituyentes, Calzada de Tláhuac and Avenida Insurgentes Norte.
The protests caused traffic chaos in the capital, and some passengers on buses that continued to operate chose to disembark and walk to the nearest subway station to continue their commute.
Transportistas say they reached an agreement with the Mexico City government in April to allow fares to be lifted, but Batres denied that was the case.
“There has been no agreement with any organization and there has been no decision from the city government” with regard to fare hikes, he said Wednesday.
Mayor Claudia Sheinbaum said in a video message Thursday that transportistas are asking for a fare increase of up to 5 pesos and that such a hike is “unacceptable.”
The transportistas, who have government permits that allow them to operate in the capital, have maintained that they are only seeking a 3-peso hike and have pointed out that fares haven’t risen for three years. But Sheinbaum argued that an increase isn’t justified.
“Our responsibility is to protect family’s finances and improve the quality of public transport. That’s why I want to tell you that since 2020, to avoid an increase in fares, we’ve been supporting the transit operators with fuel vouchers,” the mayor said.
On Twitter, Batre shared helicopter footage of what he described as the “freeing” of one road blockade.
Sheinbaum said that between 4,000 and 6,000 pesos (about US $200 to $300) per month had been allocated to transit operators to help cover their fuel costs and that allowances have now been increased by 250 pesos.
“This represents an investment of 1.3 billion pesos [US $66.5 million] in fuel vouchers that have been given to transit operators to avoid fare increases,” she said.
The mayor also said the government has offered a range of other support measures, including loans to buy new vehicles and benefits for drivers. In exchange, she said, transport operators have been asked to do a range of things such as keeping their vehicles in good condition, having valid insurance and driving responsibly. However, they haven’t kept their side of the bargain, she said.
“It’s about putting franchised transport in order. It’s true that the [minimum bus] fare in … [Mexico City] is the lowest in the whole country. But [transit operators] have been given support like nowhere else and they haven’t put [their vehicles] in order,” Sheinbaum said.
“There is no justification for the strike, … we reject the excessive increase they’re requesting. Any demand for an increase must be associated with strict compliance of [providing] better public transport service to citizens,” she said.
The mayor said her government is open to dialogue but stressed that “there must be a commitment to improve the city’s public transport.”
Before Sheinbaum’s latest remarks, FAT representative Enrique Hernández charged that the mayor was guilty of “exercising profound political, economic and social violence against those of us who move the greatest number of people in the country’s capital.”
He pointed out that minimum bus fares are significantly higher in other parts of the country including México state, which adjoins the capital. Minimum fares in that state as well as Nuevo León capital Monterrey are 12 pesos, he said, adding that they are even higher in Saltillo (13 pesos) and Mexicali (14 pesos).
The artifact was exposed to humidity and is now undergoing a slow drying process, after which it will be restored by specialists. Youtube screenshot / INAH TV
An approximately 1,300-year-old sculpture of the head of the Maya maize god has been uncovered at the Palenque archaeological site in the southern state of Chiapas.
Experts with the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) found the effigy of the young god last year but the discovery wasn’t reported until this week. INAH said in a statement that it was the first time that a stucco head of the important Maya deity had been found at Palenque, which started out as a village around 150 B.C. before becoming a powerful Maya city.
An interdisciplinary team working on a United States government-funded conservation project found the sculpture last July in the Palace, a large, elevated complex of several connected and adjacent buildings and courtyards.
“The team … observed a careful alignment of stones while removing the filler in a corridor that connects rooms of House B of the Palace to those of the adjacent House F. Inside a semi-square receptacle … and beneath a layer of loose dirt the nose and partially open mouth of the divinity emerged,” INAH said.
The mouth and nose of the maize god were the first features of the sculpture to emerge. Proyecto Arqueológico Palenque. INAH
“As the exploration advanced it was confirmed that the sculpture is the centerpiece of a rich offering that was placed over a pool with a stuccoed floor and walls … to emulate the entry of this god to the underworld in an aquatic setting.”
INAH Chiapas researcher Arnoldo González Cruz said the discovery “allows us to begin to understand how the ancient Maya of Palenque constantly relived the mythical … [story] about the birth, death and resurrection of the maize god.”
The length of the stucco head is 45 centimeters while its width is 16 centimeters. It was found lying in an east to west position, “which would symbolize the birth of the corn plant with the first rays of the sun,” INAH said. Experts described the maize god’s facial features as “graceful.”
“The chin is pointed, pronounced and split [and] the lips are thin and project outwards,” said González and two of his colleagues, according to the INAH statement. “… The cheekbones are smooth and rounded and the eyes are long and thin. From a broad, long, flat and rectangular forehead a wide and pronounced nose grows.”
DESCUBREN Joven Dios del Maíz en Palenque, Chiapas
An INAH video shows the statue and the location where it was found (in Spanish with Spanish subtitles).
The sculpture, “conceived originally as a severed head,” was found on a broken “tripod plate” made from clay, INAH said. “Due to the ceramic type of the tripod plate that accompanies the head of the young, tonsured maize god … the archaeological context has been dated to the late classic period (A.D. 700-850).”
INAH said that vegetable matter, bones of various animals including turtles, quail and domestic dogs, shells, crab claws, ceramic pieces, miniature anthropomorphic figurines and pieces of obsidian blades and seeds among other items were also deposited in a closed-off compartment where the sculpture – which lay hidden for about 1,300 years – was found.
“The positioning of these elements was … concentric, … covering 75% of the cavity, which was sealed with loose stones,” González said.
“Some animal bones had been cooked and others have … teeth marks,” he said, explaining that indicated that meat was eaten by the inhabitants of Palenque as part of a ritual.
The maize god head was exposed to humidity and is currently undergoing a process of gradual drying, INAH said, adding that it will subsequently be restored by specialists.
Saying their profession is being targeted for violent crime, Guerrero public transportation drivers blockaded the Autopista del Sol outside Chilpancingo, demanding protection.
A huge blockade staged by drivers of taxis, combis and other public transportation vehicles from the central areas of Guerrero halted four lanes of traffic Wednesday morning at a busy junction on the Autopista del Sol, the highway that connects Acapulco to the state capital of Chilpancingo.
The drivers were protesting the state government’s lack of diligence in providing proper security for taxi drivers and other drivers and transportation workers.
The action took place at the Parador del Marqués on the southern outskirts of Chilpancingo. Alternate routes between Guerrero’s two largest cities were also said to be blocked.
The protest drew at least 500 people, according to the newspaper Milenio, and perhaps upwards of 1,000, according to the newspaper El Sol de Acapulco.
The drivers, who say they feel threatened and unsafe while working, were joined by relatives of disappeared and murdered transportation workers in the region.
Their demands for better security stemmed from several recent incidents in which drivers were victims of violence, including the reported murder of transportation leader Francisco García Marroquín in Chilpancingo earlier this week. Drivers are also angered by the reported disappearance of carrier Francisco Imer. Imer and his vehicle disappeared without a trace a month ago. Another driver was rescued by police after criminals reportedly kidnapped and shot him.
The protest began taking shape between 7 and 8 a.m. on Wednesday, when drivers left their regular activities and gathered at El Parador del Marqués, using their vehicles to block traffic. Slogans on their vehicles included, “Governor, we do not want one more missing or dead taxi driver.”
Elements of the Ministry of Public Security, many dressed in riot gear, showed up at the protest. According to one report, some of the protesters were “secured” by police. Other government personnel arrived and assured the protesters that the necessary measures were being carried out to guarantee their safety and demanded that the drivers stop blocking the highway because they were committing a crime.
At the time, it was not ruled out that a police action would be necessary to restore traffic.
Around 1 p.m. the Guerrero Ministry of Government announced that one lane on each side of the highway had been opened after state Director of Transportation Arturo Salinas and Director of Government Francisco Rodríguez agreed to enter into dialogue with the protesters. But the highway remained largely blockaded throughout the day.
Cacao comes from the bitter seeds inside these tough-skinned fruits. Photos by Joseph Sorrentino
José reaches up with a long stick and deftly knocks another yellow cacao pod onto the ground — the color indicating that the seeds are ripe and ready to harvest.
I am in a cacao-growing area of Tabasco, and it’s harvest time. Eventually, these bitter seeds inside the pods will be processed to become the high-quality, delicious Mexican chocolate enjoyed around the world. But right now, it’s time for José to gather and carry them to where Santan and other workers are hacking away at harvested pods with machetes to expose the white flesh inside.
The farmers gave me some seeds to eat and, at this stage, the flesh and seeds have a bitter and very slight chocolate taste. Some enjoy snacking on them. I prefer the end product.
Fortunately, a couple of millennia ago, someone figured out the multi-step process to creating the treat many still love today.
A Tabasco cacao farmer transports his latest harvest of seeds to a warehouse.
Chocolate is one of many Mexican products with a long history, stretching back to the pre-Hispanic Olmecs. Archeologists have found traces of theobromine, a substance found in chocolate, in Olmec pots dating to 1,500 B.C. The genus name given to the cacao tree is Theobroma, which translates as “food of the gods.”
Cacao knowledge was passed on to the Mayans and Aztecs, two civilizations that revered chocolate, consuming it as a drink during ceremonies. The indigenous Mexica people (Aztecs) believed that cacao was brought to them by the god, Quetzalcoatl — who, according to legend, stole a cacao tree from paradise. It’s also believed the Mexica also used the beans as money.
I spent five days in Villaflores, a Tabasco ranchería to document life in that cacao-growing region.
On my first day there, I attended a meeting of cacao growers, and it was announced that I needed a place to stay; for my photography projects, I generally show up with someone who knows the area and hope to crash somewhere for a few days. I waited outside the building as people discussed where I could stay.
Máximo, an elderly gentleman with a beautiful smile, approached and handed me a 10-peso coin.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“It is to help you pay for a place to stay,” he replied. I thanked him, returned the money and told him that I was getting a place to stay for free.
I was eventually given a small house that hadn’t been occupied for a while. A long while, in fact.
In addition to the dirt, many of the window panes were broken. The back door was made of thin metal rods through which any number of animals could fit. It housed some of the largest spiders I’ve ever seen.
“Do not worry,” I was told. “They are not dangerous.”
I fervently hoped he was right. I’m not at all embarrassed to say I slept with the (one) light on.
On my second night, I was introduced to some of the other residents occupying the house. I’d gone out to buy a couple of rolls and some cheese for dinner, and when I got back, I laid the bag with the food on a counter and went to wash up. When I returned, there was only one roll in the bag.
Most cacao farmers in Mexico make no more than US $3,000 a year, not enough to afford to buy the chocolate made with their harvest.
I was confused. I could’ve sworn I’d bought two rolls, but I figured I must have left one at the tienda by mistake. But then I leaned over the counter.
There, on the ground, sitting on that second roll, were two of the largest cockroaches I’ve ever seen. Now, I don’t know if they’d dragged that roll out of the bag but I’m telling you, they could have. “¡Provecho!” I said, leaving them to their meal.
Cacao trees grow in hot regions that have substantial rainfall, making Tabasco the perfect spot. Unfortunately, it’s also the perfect spot for insects that have nasty bites. But I was there to document the harvest, not the insects.
Once the cacao seeds are extracted, they’re shoved into large bags and taken to the warehouse in Huimanguillo, usually on heavy-duty three-wheeled bikes. Each bag weighs about 50 kilograms (110 pounds). Someone will usually pedal for about 20 minutes with two or three bags on his bike to the warehouse.
It’s there that the magic happens.
Esteban, the head of the local cacao cooperative (ALAPCH), was kind enough to give me a tour of the warehouse in Huimanguillo and explain the process to me. It was humid inside and smelled a bit like chocolate. As we walked through the warehouse, campesinos trickled in with buckets or bags of cacao seeds.
How someone figured out the steps needed to go from a bitter-tasting seed to chocolate is nothing short of amazing: to get to that final point, the seeds are first put into large vats (wooden ones in Villaflores) where they’ll sit for about a week, fermenting. The fermentation is driven by naturally occurring bacteria and yeast.
The seeds are then dried. In Villaflores, this is done by putting the seeds on a platform out in the sun, where they’re occasionally turned. This step takes a few days, depending on conditions. Once dried, the seeds are roasted and ground and are then ready to be used to make chocolate.
Tabasco produces almost 70% of the total cacao grown in Mexico. Growers in Chiapas harvest a little under 30% and others in Oaxaca and Guerrero chip in about 1%.
In the early 2000s, Mexico was producing about 50,000 metric tons of cacao, but that’s now fallen by half. Much of that decline is due to a fungus that arrived from Central America around 2006 and infected 80% of the pods. With efforts to grow resistant trees, production is beginning to rebound.
Although Mexico is where cacao was first cultivated, it currently produces only 0.01% of the world’s cacao supplies, ranking No. 8 in cacao production worldwide. The majority is now grown in Africa.
At the end of the tour, I mentioned to Esteban how much I enjoy chocolate. He told me, “Campesinos do not eat chocolate.”
I expressed surprise that the people who grow cacao don’t eat it.
“They cannot afford it. Chocolate is a luxury that only people with money can afford.”
These farmers who grow cacao earn, on average, US $2,000 to $3,000 a year — barely enough to survive. Learning that they grow cacao but can’t afford to buy chocolate made me appreciate it all the more.
Mexico’s national oil company will offer to pay back about US $2 billion it owes big-ticket suppliers with new debt, potentially easing conditions for some of its biggest contractors.
In recent years Pemex has been racking up debts to its suppliers, which stood at $13.5 billion at the end of the first quarter, according to its financial filings.
The company did not name which suppliers would benefit from the offer, but said it would exchange invoices for notes with a coupon of 8.75% due in 2029 to suppliers with more than $5 million outstanding.
In January, oil services group Schlumberger said it was experiencing payment delays from its primary customer in Mexico and that it was owed about $500 million. Rival Halliburton also said about 10% of its receivables were from Mexico, where it had also had payment delays.
Schlumberger and Halliburton did not immediately respond to requests for comment.
Pemex has outstanding debt of more than $100 billion, making it one of the world’s most indebted oil companies. Despite recording large quarterly losses, many emerging market funds hold its bonds because of strong government backing and the company’s higher yield compared with Mexico’s sovereign bonds.
The government of nationalist President López Obrador has vowed to “rescue” Pemex after years of privatization, which he has said was aimed at destroying it.
The deal announced on Tuesday covers a total of $2 billion in liabilities, making it neutral to Pemex’s credit profile, said Nymia Almeida, analyst at rating agency Moody’s.
She added that the move was a good step for the company to protect its supplier base.
“Everybody uses suppliers as a source of financing . . . but this amount has increased in the last few years, it’s actually becoming difficult for suppliers themselves to survive,” Almeida said. “I think from that perspective it’s positive that the company is doing something about it.”
López Obrador has made it a priority to support Pemex financially, cutting an important tax rate on its profits to 40% in 2022 from more than 65% in 2019. The company also recently agreed to buy back some bonds and swap others for the amount of more than $3 billion.
At the same time, the government has pursued a strategy of being energy “self-sufficient” that includes spending billions for Pemex to build an oil refinery in the president’s home state. The plan is unlikely to maximize profits for the state-owned company, analysts said, and crude oil production has continued to decline.
