[two of three] Posadas

Posada #2: Oapan, a stop-in at Jeremias’ aunt’s house.

After the Attack on Ameyaltepec, the second Posada was considerably more peaceful.  Jeremias, Emiliana and I stopped in at Jeremias’ aunt’s house, where the scene was similar to the day before:  

Jesus, the Virgin, and some other saint were on a platform with shoulder mounts, with lanky candles at each corner.  The three figures wore flower wreaths, and offerings of food lay at their feet.  Someone had clipped pesos and dollar bills to the saint.  Probably a dozen people sat around the scene, praying in a drone and a shrill.  They were coughing on the smoke from the komal in the center of the room, until someone brought in fans and opened windows.  We left after a few minutes.

Jeremias.  Jeremias is my age, 25, and has become a good friend.  He says that he’s going to give himself three years in Oapan.  He wants to do something about the trash and pigs in the street.  These seem like simple issues to take care of—create a landfill and resources for trash-pickup, pen in the pigs and clean up the shit.  But no one has taken the chore realistically.  The roads are disjointed and full of potholes, where filthy gray water sits in pools, along with the pigs.  Oapanecos are accustomed to a culture of waste—they throw their garbage in the street or, worse, the river.  The water supply is extremely contaminated.  According to a water specialist whom Jonathan brought in, the water shouldn’t even be potable.  But it is.

The quality of public health in Oapan isn’t good, and people know it.   

I get the feeling that Oapanecos are waiting for the local government to do something about the situation, but I imagine that they already know that the government never will.  The idea that the government will provide trucks to haul trash, for example, is far-fetched, to say the least.  There is really no infrastructure in the town, other than a community health center. 

It’s common knowledge that local officials have extravagant homes in both Oapan and the more uban Iguala, and there are perennial questions regarding the allocation of town funds.  What perplexes me is that some of these leaders apparently arose in the early 1990 enfrentamiento with the federal government, when the government attempted to build a dam and that would have effectively wiped out the indigenous communities in the Balsas River Valley, including Oapan.  The same people who once brought hope are now quietly extinguishing it.

Jeremias and some of his friends are going to make a presentation to municipal authorities to try and create some awareness of the contamination.  They are going to try to educate.  Oapanecos should be able to enjoy their own resources, a greater standard in public health, and a higher quality of life.  To that extent, Jeremias’ work is important, here and now.  But the cynical part of me wonders what San Agustin will be like in fifty years—if anyone will be around to enjoy a healthier Oapan, or if they’ll just be travelers passing through, house to house, enjoying the respite of another posada.