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Othering

April 8, 2020

What concerns me right now isn’t getting the virus, but the hunt for scapegoats. China and the World Health Organisation, says Washington. The New World Order is in there, obviously. And somehow, Bill Gates became a bad guy, too. In Mexico, (apart from the annoying President), it’s anyone who’s “other.”

Sunday night, the village’s ayudante (a sub-mayor, basically) announced the new rules over the speaker system attached to the church. They were even repeated in somewhat halting English. A friend of mine reported feeling included by this, while I felt an implicit threat: “You too, gringos! So listen up.”

I hoped my friend was right.

Our nearby town, Tepoztlan, like many others in Mexico, has officially shut itself off from the outside, without perhaps considering how this will work. Or won’t work. Most of our food comes from neighbouring communities, as does … well, most of everything. With 80 truck drivers a day coming in, as well as various workers, how isolated can things be?

My village, as previously noted, has its own barricade on the highway. In theory, this could have helped, but it was put up weeks too late to make a difference. We have our first case of Covid-19 here, a woman who reportedly visited the U.S. recently. This morning, I chatted with my neighbour as we took our garbage down for the weekly collection, and she said there were also two cases in the town.

I had “the talk” with myself in late March, reminding myself that I was in Mexico, not Canada. If I chose to stay, I’d be responsible for myself. People here don’t necessarily grasp how viral infection operates, and social distancing only works when everyone realises they could be an unwitting carrier. I’d have to be look out for myself. Which, of course, would mean I was also looking out for others, even the ones who thought my face-mask was amusing.

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The village’s highway barricade, take from a safe, socially distant distance.

The couple of times I’ve been through the security barricade outside the village, I’ve noted some of the people manning it standing close to each other, maskless, and drinking. Not all of them, but if a third of the people don’t grasp what the problem is (and it’s probably more), then there’s no safety created. But hey, they’re keeping out the sick people, right?

Putting the blame onto someone else – outsiders – shifts responsibility. But at 11.00 last night, there was loud music at a house 200 yards away, and you don’t blast late at night just for yourself, unless perhaps you’re an unrepentant Black Sabbath fan. There are some in Mexico, but I knew the noise meant people were sharing some of the village’s rapidly diminishing supply of beer, and probably not sitting five or six feet from each other.

The nastiest thing that’s emerged has been attacks on medical staff at hospitals and health centres. I’d hoped it was just a couple of over-hyped instances, but yesterday I read that nurses and doctors had laid 28 reports of some form of attacks.

They’re “others,” the dangerous people who might be carrying the bug. Not like us people who aren’t sick – we’re not a problem, but those people in the green or white scrubs might be. No, you can’t get on this bus to go home, you dangerous, albeit self-sacrificing, hospital employee.

And no, you outsiders can’t come to this village where most of us continue to ignore any suggestion to maintain our distance from each other.

I can only hope such abuse doesn’t happen round here, and there’s some appreciation for the medical personnel risking their lives in the under-equipped health centres and hospitals. Those, I stress, are much better than what was on offer a couple of decades ago, but this pandemic will push many of them over the brink.

And yet … I realise that if I get seriously ill, it’ll be a risky business. But because there is space in this village, and wide streets creating no need to pass close to other residents, I feel honestly safer than people who live elsewhere probably assume I do.

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I’ve stocked up on essentials for the next month … or two.

Beyond that, I’ve stocked up on essentials, set up a mutual support group with local friends, and take exercise only where I don’t expect to run into anybody else.

Plus, just as every other pet owner has noticed, the dogs like having me around more. So I do feel appreciated.

Featured

Turning Up The Heat

April 12, 2020

This past Thursday morning was when the manure hit the ventilation system. That was the day Mexico’s health ministry let it be known that while the national count of Covid-19 cases was officially still under 3,500, the reality was probably around 26,500. A low level of testing, and delays in getting test results, was affecting the national tally, so this was their best guesstimate.

Within hours the mayor of our town of Tepoztlan had sent police to the town’s entry point from the freeway that comes from Mexico City. Anyone not from this locality was turned back. Further, the main square in town, the zocalo, was sealed off, so people wouldn’t hang out there as they usually do.

A short while later, I discovered local residents had taken vigilante action, and had blocked the only road into my village. It helps that I’m part of a visible minority, and they knew I was a local resident and let me through. Oddly, I have no ID that has my current address on it. So, as often happens here, I had to trust to people’s nosiness (they know who I am better than I know them), plus their goodwill, to get me through.

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The barricade on the way into our village. (Photo: courtesy Robin Rainbow Gate)

Others were refused admittance. And since farmers have things like machetes, and aren’t afraid to use them for non-agricultural purposes, there wasn’t much argument.

The next day, I tried to buy a garafon or large bottle of drinking water. Every store in the village had been cleaned out, and there was no certainty about when re-stocking would happen. One little store had somewhat smaller bottles, so I bought two of those to last me till mid-week.

Finally, people had gotten religion.

But it wasn’t all common-sense and community well-being. One small town 20 miles from here had a minor riot when people protested against admitting patients with the virus to their local hospital. They actually threatened to burn down the facility if this happened, fearing the disease would be imported into their community.

In other places, nurses have reported being abused in public, for the same reason. This isn’t just a Mexican thing, I found out, and some stores and banks in Quebec are refusing to serve hospital personnel. “You’re heroic in what you’re doing, but stay away from me.” It’s understandable, but depressing at the same time. Any problem has a solution. How about a sign reading “Please wear a mask in here, ’cause even if we love you, we’re a bit scared of where you work,” for example?

The effects of the epidemic have become apparent by degrees over the past few weeks. The town was getting progressively more deserted, and my next-door neighbour, a cab driver, has been home a lot. Face-masks are finally starting to show up, and I’m seeing more ads for restaurants offering home delivery. The little cafe in our village that closed three weeks back is now offering coffee and a limited selection of meals on a take-out basis.

Mexico’s President, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, has been consistently unhelpful. After giving Bolsonaro-ish bad advice for weeks, he ordered many industries deemed inessential to shut down for a month, while demanding that company owners continue to pay the staff. I’m no rabid free marketeer, but I do understand basic economics. And we all know shutdowns can be extended.

First the breweries were ordered closed, and they complied: then they were told they could re-open. Then, they were again deemed inessential by the Health Ministry. Who’s in charge here? That depends on what you mean by “who” and “in charge.”

The best estimate right now is that Mexico’s wave of infections will peak by the month’s end, or maybe at the start of May. The very warm weather in this part of the country is probably minimising the count, but it hasn’t, as many people hoped, managed to stop the disease.

Social cohesion in general, however, seems solid right now, at least if we don’t count the attacks on nurses. Last night our village, which has a speaker system on its church, broadcast instructions in Spanish and English, issued by the local mayor. They were sensible and fair, given the circumstances, and the inclusion of expats who are predominantly English speakers was heartening. Even if their federal government is a dubious enterprise, I still maintain my support and gratitude to Mexicans as a people.