With the holidays upon us, money and spending can be an important consideration over how best to spend the season.

The author of “The Mexican Slang Dictionary,” Alasdair Baverstock, tells us how to talk turkey like a Mexican.

Agiotista n.

An informal and rapacious money-lender. A loan shark.

Bolo

1. n. The gift given as a baptism present; usually money.
2. exclam. Traditionally shouted when cash falls to the floor, often in the form of coins, signifying a free-for-all where whoever grabs the money keeps what they gather.

Codo adj. 

Stingy or tight-fisted when it comes to money. This expression comes from the idea that a person might complain that their elbow hurts when it comes to getting their wallet out. The term is often substituted by an elbow-tapping gesture.

Jinetear v. 

1. To rob, most often with the use of violence. From the days of mounted highwaymen, who would rob from horseback.
2. To turn a quick profit, with a small initial investment and minimal subsequent effort. To buy a six-pack of beers at the Oxxo and then sell them to tourists at the beach for double the price would be a perfect example.
3. Of an individual, to retain money that does not belong to them and spend it for other purposes, most often with the intention of using the extra money to make more, before paying what is owed.

Marro adj.

Stingy, or penny-pinching. Also codo.

Milky n.

The monetary amount of 1,500 pesos. An abbreviation of mil quinientos, or one thousand five hundred.

e.g. Me debes un Milky, wey. (You owe me fifteen hundred pesos, pal.)

Milpa n.

1. A traditional agricultural field in which the “three sisters” of corn, squash and beans are produced.
2. The monetary amount of MXN $1,000. An adaptation of mil, or one thousand.

Peseta n.

1. The monetary amount of 25 pesos, although not commonly used nowadays.
2. A tax, or cut, of 25%.

e.g. Te dejo trabajar, pero me das la peseta. 

I’ll let you work, but I want 25%.

Quiña n.

The monetary amount of 500 pesos. Abbreviation of quinientos, or five hundred.

Tostón n.

1. A squashed and fried slice of plátano macho.
2. The monetary amount of fifty pesos, traditionally a large thick coin, and so called given its similarity to the food.
3. A lady’s nipple, given similar size and shape to a tostón coin.

Varo n.

1. Colloquial term for the Mexican peso, equivalent of ‘bucks’ for U.S. dollars, or ‘quid’ for British pounds sterling.
2. A specific quantity of Mexican currency. Depending on the context, it can mean one peso or 1,000. 

You can buy “The Mexican Slang Dictionary” on Amazon in the U.S., Canada and Mexico.

MND readers can find the physical book stocked in bookstores:

Mexico City               

• Under The Volcano Books, La Condesa
• Antonia, La Condesa
• Casa Bosques, La Roma

San Miguel de Allende        

• Aurora Books

Puerto Escondido

• Villa Mozart y Macondo, La Rinconada

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City-based author of “The Mexican Slang Dictionary.”

The post Mexican slang 101: How to talk turkey like a native speaker appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The author of “The Mexican Slang Dictionary,” Alasdair Baverstock, has a few suggestions for the lesser-known dishes.

Aguachile – noun. Raw seafood dish, similar to ceviche, in which the curing lime sauce is flavoured with chili and other spices.

Alambre – noun. A dish in a taquería in which the taco filling and the tortillas are served separately, allowing the diner to taquear of their own accord.

Aporreado – noun. A dish typical of the Tierra Caliente, in which dried beefsteak, egg, beans, tomatoes and spices are stewed together. Also known as aporreadillo.

Barbacoa – noun. Slow-cooked meat dish, usually goat or mutton. The root of the English word ‘barbeque,’ Mexico’s best barbacoa is found in the Bajío — connoisseurs say specifically in the state of Hidalgo.

Traditionally prepared in deep ovens — often excavated into the earth itself — a fire is set at the bottom of the pit, followed by the stacked meat, wrapped in agave pencas. The whole is buried and left to cook over the course of many hours. As a result, barbacoa is a dish most-commonly eaten for breakfast or lunch. Cuts from the animal vary, but include costilla (rib), espaldilla (shoulder) and espinazo (spine), often served with pancita — offal prepared in the stomach — and consomé, the juices from the meat collected at the bottom of the oven and mixed with chickpeas.

Burrito – noun. A Norteño staple consisting of a flour tortilla wrapped around a filling. It is worth noting that while the burrito is a dish commonly associated with Mexican cuisine, the Tex-Mex version found in el Gabacho is seldom found in Mexico, where burritos generally have only one filling, and are much smaller.

Carnitas – noun. A traditional dish most famously from the state of Michoacan, carnitas is a pork confit, i.e. meat cooked in the animal’s own fat. Literally meaning ‘little meats’, it is prepared in one large cazuela, with the individual cuts cooked at different stages of the process. Generally eaten in taco form, the cuts include maciza (lean meat), buche (stomach), cuerito (skin), costilla (rib) and trompa (snout). For newcomers to carnitas, a taco surtido, or ‘mixed taco,’ is a good entry point.

Chavindeca – noun. A Calentano dish consisting of meat and cheese sandwiched between two large grilled corn tortillas.

Chongos – noun. A dessert known as ‘burned milk.’ It is sweetened whole milk, which is evaporated, leaving behind the sugary curds. A rare and delicious dish, if you can find it.

Criadillas – noun. Testicles, when served as a dish.

Fraile – noun. A Campeche dessert consisting of meringue and fried churro-like tortilla, stuffed either with coconut or Edam cheese.

Jericalla – noun. A dessert, similar to flan, consisting of a thick custard which is set and then burned on top to caramelize, like crème brulée.

Marquesita – noun. A street dessert originating in the Yucatán Peninsula, in which crêpe batter is pressed into a large pancake in a specially-made waffle press, and rolled up into a tube with any of a variety of toppings – although most feature Edam cheese.

Montado – noun. A dish typical to northern Mexico, particularly Chihuahua, in which beans and cheese are sandwiched between two flour tortillas, and then topped with a filling, creating what is essentially a stuffed double-tortilla taco.

Pambazo – noun. A torta which has been coated in a chili sauce and cooked on a comal. A traditional dish around the country’s independence celebrations, although it can be found year-round.

Paste – noun. The Mexican version of Britain’s Cornish pasty, i.e. a wheat flour empanada, most commonly filled with beef, potato and chilis, but which has broadened to a wide range of fillings and is generally smaller than its Anglian ancestor. The word itself is an evolution of the word pasty, a foodstuff brought to Hidalgo — specifically the mountain town of Real del Monte, close to Pachuca — by Cornish miners in the in the early 19th century.

Polcan – noun. A Yucatecan dish, consisting of a fried corn dough ball which is cut open and filled with one of a variety of stuffings.

Tlayuda – noun. Oaxacan dish consisting of a wide, crunchy corn disk, topped with asiento, beans, vegetables, meats and salsa.

Torta ahogada – noun. A ‘drowned sandwich’; a dish typical to Guadalajara, in which a torta is put in a bath of the same carnitas consommé which has resulted form the meat’s preparation. It is served in a bowl or deep dish and eaten with a spoon.

Zarandeado – adj. A food preparation style, in which a fish is basted in a blend of spices, and then grilled over charcoal. Most commonly found on the Pacific Coast.

The Mexican Slang Dictionary

You can buy “The Mexican Slang Dictionary” on Amazon in the United States, Canada and Mexico. MND readers can find the physical book stocked in bookstores:

Mexico City               

Under The Volcano Books, La Condesa
Antonia Book Store, La Condesa
Casa Bosques, La Roma

San Miguel de Allende        

Aurora Books, Guadalupe

Puerto Escondido

Villa Mozart y Macondo, La Rinconada

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City-based author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary.

The post Mexican Slang 101: Regional Food  appeared first on Mexico News Daily

It’s the most Mexican of curse words, and a phrasal verb whose meanings span the cultural spectrum. You may not like it, but you’d better make sure you understand it.

The author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary, Alasdair Baverstock, shows you how best to employ this nation’s favorite rude word. We have translated the spirit of each phrase here, but please be aware that the word “chingar” has much stronger connotations, so be careful when and where you use it!

A Chingar a su Madre – expression Aggressive expression indicating that something has reached its conclusion, and that participants and onlookers should depart.

e.g.    Y con eso terminamos, y a chingar a su madre.

It’s finished, please leave.

Chinga! – exclam 

1. Darn!
2. Wow!

En Chinga – adj

1. Hurried, or under pressure.
2. Busy.

Chinga su Madre! – exclam  ‘To hell with it!’ Used in the context of taking a quick decision.

e.g.      La luz esta en roja, pero Chinga su Madre! Me la como.

The traffic light is red but Fuck it! I’m running the light.

@jesrp01 #ohquelachingada entonces que quieres que haga, eh! #parati #foryou ♬ sonido original – JESUS RODRIGUEZ PONCE

Chingada Madre! – exclam Expressing frustration or annoyance. Best translated as ‘Ah damn it’!

Chingadera – noun Something without value or importance.

Chingarle – verb To put effort into something.

Chíngatelo – imperative

1. Finish whatever you are doing quickly, most commonly used with a beer.
2. Instructing an individual to steal something.

Chingarse – verb

1. To steal, shoplift or ‘nick’ something.

e.g. Se estan chingando la lana.

They are stealing the money.

2. To eat something quickly.

e.g. Se chingó ese bistec.

       They scoffed that steak down.

Se chingó – expression It failed, or it is ruined.

Chingón –

1. adiVery common expression meaning that something is excellent, or of top quality.

e.g. Ese diccionionario esta chingón!

       This dictionary is great!

2. nounAn impressive or powerful individual; the best in their own field.

e.g. El es un chingón

       He’s the best.

Chingonería – noun Something of superb quality.

         e.g.    Que chingonería güey!

                   What a great thing dude!

Hecho la Chingada – expression Moving at a very fast pace, most commonly referring to irresponsible motorists.

No me chingues – expression Don’t nag or bother me.

Me lleva la Chingada – exclam Expressing surprise, furstration or anger. In this expression, the chingada can also be substituted for other nouns: la fregada, la tiznada, la trampa, la trompada and also commonly, la verga.

Un Chingo – expression A lot, many or much. Can be used in reference to actions, as well as both countable and uncountable nouns.

e.g.    Ella tiene un chingo de coches.

         She has a lot of cars.

e.g.    El tiene un chingo de dinero.

He has a lot of money.

e.g.    Duele un chingo.

It hurts a lot.

Una Chinga – noun

1. A task which takes a great deal of effort.
2. A physical beating.

You can buy The Mexican Slang Dictionary on Amazon in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico.

MND readers can find the physical book stocked in bookstores:

Mexico City: Under The Volcano Books, La Condesa

San Miguel de Allende: Aurora Books

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City-based author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary.

The post Mexican slang 101: Chingar appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Have you ever heard your Mexican acquaintance Jesús answer to Chucho? Did you know that your friend Chabela probably has Isabel written on her birth certificate? Believe it or not, the names are the same, when looking at how Mexicans apply diminutive.

Almost every first name has its diminutive version in Mexico. The author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary, Alasdair Baverstock lists some of the most common you might hear bandied around as your social circle grows.

Alberto – Beto

Concepción – Concha

Cuauhtémoc – Cuau, Temo, Temoc

Enrique – Kike, Kikis

Ernesto – Neto

Gilberto – Gil, Beto

Graciela – Chela

n.b. The slang word for ‘beer’ is also ‘Chela’, due to the similarity between the words ‘Graciela’ and ‘Cerveza’.

Guillermo – Memo

Ignacio – Nacho

Jesús – Chuy, Chucho, Churras

José – Pepe, Che 

José María – Chema

Lucía – Lucha, Chia

Manuel – Manu, Manolo

María del Rosario – Charo, Chayo

Mercedes – Meche

Pablo – Pavo

Patricio – Pato

Rosalba – Chava

Salvador – Chava

Sergio – Checo

Sofía – Chofi, Choso

Vicente – Chente

You can buy “The Mexican Slang Dictionary” on Amazon in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. MND readers in San Miguel de Allende can pick up a copy at Aurora Books.

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City based author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary.

The post Mexican Slang 101: Nicknames appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The author of “The Mexican Slang Dictionary,” Alasdair Baverstock, gives us 15 lesser-known Mexican expressions and phrases to describe the diverse people of Mexico.

Caballero – noun A native of the city of Córdoba, Veracruz, given its historical founding by the heads of 30 local noble families. The word means both gentleman and knight, or cavalryman.

Calentano – adj Of something or someone native to the Tierra Caliente region of Michoacán, Guerrero and México state. 

Chayote – noun

1.   1. A popular vine-grown vegetable native to Central Mexico. A mirliton squash in English.
2.  2. A native of the city of Orizaba, Veracruz.

Chilango – noun A native of Mexico City. For older generations, the word used to describe a Mexican migrant who moved to the capital from a different part of the country. Today, among younger generations, it is a universal term. 

The etymology of the word is hotly debated. Among the most common explanations are that it was a term for chili pepper vendors and that it comes from the Nahuatl “chilan-co” — the red ones — or the Maya xilaan, meaning “frizzy hair.” The latter two terms reference the Valley of Mexico’s cold winds. Formerly, Defeño, Capitalino.

Chilangada – noun A rude or uncourteous action undertaken, befitting of a Chilango. For example, running a red light in your vehicle, or being cut off in traffic. Also Chilangazo.

Culichi – noun

1. A native of Culiacan, Sinaloa. 
2. Compound word signifying a woman with “mucho culo, poca chichi”: “A lot of buttocks, not much breasts.”

Hidrocálido – noun A native of the state of Aguascalientes. 

Jarocho – noun A native of Veracruz state. The source of this word is said to come from the jara, a pole used by cowboys to herd cattle, given the importance of Veracruz state as a cattle producing region. 

Juarense – noun A native of Ciudad Juarez. A more derogatory term for people from this city is juareño.

Lagunero – noun A native of the city of Torreón, Coahuila. This term comes from the region’s many lagoons.

Loco – noun A native of Ciudad Mendoza, Veracruz. They’re called “crazies” because their town is situated in a particularly windy geographical location, and consequently find it hard to keep their hair in order, making them look “loco.”

Meridano – noun A native of the city of Mérida.

Pipope – noun A pejorative term for a native of Puebla state that abbreviates the phrase “Pinche Poblano Pendejo” – “Freakin’ Idiot from Puebla.”

Regio – noun Short for “regiomontano,” this word designates a native of the city of Monterrey.

Tapatío – noun A native of the city of Guadalajara. This word comes from a measure of five tortillas in 19th-century Guadalajara, which was known as a “tapatía.” A more derogatory term is jalisquillo. 

You can buy The Mexican Slang Dictionary on Amazon in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico.

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City based author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary.

The post Mexican slang 101: Regional natives appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Mexicans love their sport, and with the Euros and Copa America reaching their knockout stages, and the Olympics starting at the end of the month, there’s no better time to brush up on your vocabulary if you’re going to be watching with amigos.

The author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary, Alasdair Baverstock, gives us ten lesser-known Mexican expressions and phrases to take your sports knowledge to the next level.

A word of warning: While some of these expressions are perfect for the football stadium, they might be frowned upon if you use them in an everyday context, so consider who you are speaking to before using them.

Allí esta la papa – expression Signifying the weakest link in any system. Literally: There’s the potato. E.g. In sports, if one of the players on the side is clearly inferior to his teammates, then he is the “potato” and should be tactically targeted with additional pressure in order to increase the chances of victory.

Crack – noun Someone who is the best at what they do, and in the context of sport, the best player on the team.

e.g.       Viste el gol de Ronaldo? Que crack es ese güey. 

Did you see Ronaldo’s goal? What an amazing player he is.

Cruzazulear – verb To perform extremely well in any given activity, only to fall short at the final hurdle. To “bottle it,” to “snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.” Stems from the Mexico City football club Cruz Azul, which reached numerous finals over decades, but never managed to win.

Me carga la chingada! – exclam Expressive of frustration, Equivalent of “Godammit!” (except stronger). Extremely useful expression when your team concedes.

Me mama – expression Descriptive of something which a person greatly enjoys. Also used reflexively for any subject, i.e. Me mama, Te mama, Le mama, Nos mama, etc.

e.g.       Me mama jugar futbol.

I love playing football.

Palero – noun An individual who is quick, or easily convinced, to change their allegiances. A “fairweather fan,” in the context of sport, but can also be used in any other context; i.e. politics, socially, etc. Also Piquetero.

Pelmazo – noun An incorrigable idiot.

e.g.      Que pelmazo ese portero!

            What an idiot that goalkeeper is!

Porra – noun A chant, or cheer.

Different sporting institutions often have their own specific chants, sung by the crowd at their events, but the most common Mexican porra goes:

Chi-qui-ti-bom, a la bim-bom ba!

A la bio, a la bao, a la bim-bom-ba!

Person’s name! Person’s name!

Ra! Ra! Ra!

Tener la Estafeta – expression To be in charge. Literally, to be “holding the baton.” A team captain does so for his team.

Vergeada – noun A decisive victory, or pummeling. Literally, a “dicking.”

e.g.      Nos metieron siete goles, fue una vergeada!

            They scored seven goals, it was a thrashing!          

If you want to brush up on more than your sports, you can buy The Mexican Slang Dictionary on Amazon in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico.

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City based author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary.

The post Mexican Slang 101: Sport appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Mexicans enjoy their leisure time, and this country’s party culture is always just around the corner. However, as the beers go down the slang often comes out, and knowing what certain phrases refer to in the context of drinking can be essential. 

The author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary, Alasdair Baverstock, gives us ten lesser-known Mexican expressions and phrases to take your Pachanga to the next level.

Caguama – noun

1.     A sea turtle.
2.     A large bottle of beer, usually measuring 1.2 litres. Often shared between friends as a cheaper alternative to individual bottles.

Ballena – noun A Caguama, specifically of Pacifico beer, found only in Mazatlan, Sinaloa, where the brewery is based. Literally, a whale. 

Chela – noun Beer. The etymology of this slang stems from the name Graciela, which sounds similar enough to the word Cerveza to be substituted for it. The abbreviated nickname for Graciela, is Chela, which therefore applies also to the slang for beer.

Cheve – noun A Norteño equivalent of Chela.

Hasta ver la cruz – 

1.     expression To ‘down’ a drink in one go. Comes from the religious prayer candles, the containing glasses have a crucifix at the bottom, and are commonly used for drinking mezcal after the candle has been spent. By doing so, the drinker would ‘see the cross’ at the bottom of his glass only when it is upturned. Consequently also:
2.     adj Very drunk.

Hecho una Cuba – adj Extremely Drunk.

Mala Copa – adj Descriptive of a person who cannot hold their drink, becomes drunk easily, or is prone to foolishness once drunk. 

Medios Chiles, Estar a – adj The ‘merry’, or ‘tipsy’ state of drunkeness. Also happysón.

Paloma – noun A mixed drink containing Tequila, lime juice and grapefruit soda

Torito – noun Jail cell where those who have committed offences while unde the influence of alcohol are taken to sober up overnight. The ‘drunk-tank’.

You can buy The Mexican Slang Dictionary on Amazon in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico.

Alisdair Baverstock is the Mexico City based author of The Mexican Slang Dictionary.

The post Mexican Slang 101: La fiesta appeared first on Mexico News Daily

Being handcuffed and forcibly returned to Mexico, be it through a border door or a plane deeper into the country, is bearable. Few are treated with respect and many are treated inhumanely, but over the years I’ve spent covering the plight of returning migrants, the vast majority have the same attitude: “Fair enough, you got caught. What else did you expect?”

Take David, whom I met in Guadalajara earlier this month. He’s from Cochoapa El Grande, in Guerrero state, the most impoverished municipality in Mexico. I’ve been there too.

It’s a mountain town, a two-hour drive up into the pine-jungled hills above Tlapa. Half an hour up the route, the asphalt comes to an end and the bright orange dirt road, cut at a right angle out of the hillside and furrowed by the streams of these sierras’ constant drizzle, takes you to the arches at the entrance to the town.

It looks much like any other town in this area. Adobe walls where the rock plaster has been chipped away, exposing the large rounded slabs. The colorful bubble-lettered graffiti promoting the visit of a music band two months ago. The town square, lined with topiarized square bushes and the see-through glass box containing jicama, chile powder and wasps.

Below the town there’s an enormous social housing development. One hundred identical houses built by a federal government stand in eight identical lines. The houses are deserted. Their windows smashed. You can see children running in between them.

It’s not because they’re bad. It’s because the town itself is underpopulated. Anyone with half a chance in life leaves. What good’s a roof over your head if there’s no work outside your door?

Cochoapa El Grande is impoverished for a reason: it’s two hours up a dirt road from Tlapa. There’s agricultural work, but profits are eaten up just getting the product to the commercial center. A bad road moves produce slowly, eats up more diesel, and damages the peaches (the main crop) along the way.

“Wouldn’t the housing money have been better spent on putting a proper road in?” I ask a local.

“Different ministries,” he shrugged.

Cochoapa El Grande is struggling even more. Like much of Guerrero, clandestine opium poppy production has for a long time been a major source of income. The opium fields produce at least two harvests a year: the wet season and the dry season.

The dry season opium is the best. It’s thicker, more concentrated, and when I first covered the industry four years ago, sold for US $1,500 a kilo.

But Fentanyl – synthesized opium – a hundred times stronger and far easier to produce, has ripped the bottom out of the market.

David, our deportee in Guadalajara, knows all about that. “A kilo of dry season gum is at $250 now,” he told me.

“There’s no other way to make money, so I had to try to cross the border.”

He went to Tijuana, hired a coyote guide, and crossed into Arizona. He got in. It was only at a Tucson McDonald’s that he got unlucky. A cop stood beside him in the line and watched his unusually ravenous hunger with suspicion when his quarter-pounder arrived.

He was sent to Guadalajara for that reason. To get him a thousand kilometers from the border makes it harder to get back. But don’t think that puts him off.

“I’ve already left my village,” he said. “I can’t show my face there again. People are depending on me.”

He would rest a day or two in Jalisco, before taking off again.

Back to Tijuana.

Back to the border.

“I know I can get in, because other people have done it,” he said, relaxing into the anonymous interview. “For me it’s either death in the desert, or life in the United States.”

Fair enough, he’s got half a chance. What else did you expect?

Alasdair Baverstock is a freelance foreign correspondent and reporter for CGTN who has covered Mexico and Latin America for nearly a decade. You can follow him across social media at @alibaverstock.

The post For Guerrero emigrant, it’s death in the desert or life in the US appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The entire town depends on tourists, particularly the ones bringing dollars, and a surge in crime is poisonous. Being told to turn out your pockets at knifepoint tends to overshadow even the nicest of beach getaways.

The local consensus was that the cops were to blame. They laugh in the faces of tourists who come to report robberies, and the lifeguard says there’s no security after dark. For the bad guys, there’s free reign to target anyone they think might be vulnerable, and ultimately the victims are seen as the ones to blame. They know they shouldn’t be around here after dark, so what were they thinking? Of course, something like this was bound to happen.

With murders on the increase to boot, our interviewee didn’t hold out much hope for the future.

“But what about that coronavirus?” he enquired. “That’s terrifying.”

“Really?” I replied incredulously. “Thirty-five thousand murders in Mexico last year, and you’re worried about coronavirus?”

“Ah sí.” Hi didn’t miss a beat. “Pero la violencia ya se conoce” – “Yeah, but we’re acquainted with the violence.”

And he was right.

Thirty-five thousand murders in 2019 didn’t spring out of nowhere.

The year 2018 saw 31,000 killings, and that was a record year when it occurred. Ad nauseam.

All across Mexico, the violence has become so commonplace that of course an unknown disease, of unknown tendencies, is more terrifying to this man than the disappearances and violence occurring in his own locale.

Three years ago I drove down to Acapulco from Mexico City early on a Friday morning to cover the town’s worsening violence. A local nota roja (crime and disaster stories) reporter friend had advised me that for best results, it was best to come around the weekends, and on a quincena (the fortnightly payday).

We saw seven bodies that day. Four discovered in a clandestine grave, two kids shot as they hung around on the wrong corner, and a man sitting in his car in a neighborhood close to the beach, shot through his window, his head slumped on the interior glass.

Seven a day was about the average, my local reporter friend told me.

In mid-2019 I returned to Acapulco to do a similar story, and that same friend, who says he’s seen more than 6,000 murders in nearly a decade of covering the violence, says the daily murder rate is better.

“Now it’s two, or one,” he told the camera. “Sometimes even none.”

But the city has become so numb to the bloodshed that locals barely bat an eyelid. Our interview was at the site of that day’s only murder (it was a Tuesday), and where the body had been, a large pool of congealed blood sat curdling in the afternoon sun.

“That’ll be cleaned up when the streets sweepers come through. People come by to have a quick look, and then get on with their business,” he said. “They just don’t care.”

Just how much does this apathy and stoic acceptance that violence is a fact of life in Mexico contribute to the issue?

My question was answered during the reporting of that same story.

The friend of a murdered student told us of her experience, and the self-loathing she experienced during the mourning process.

“Did I do anything to protest the death of my friend?” she demanded of herself. “No, because I was scared of something happening to me.”

“It’s so easy to criticize people who do nothing until you live through it. Until someone you love …” She didn’t finish her sentence; she didn’t need to.

I come to no judgement on the people, nor offer any broad conclusions about the nature of Mexican society. Perhaps the violence has always been here, perhaps not. But it seems we can’t see the bodies for the trees.

Alasdair Baverstock is a freelance foreign correspondent and reporter for CGTN who has covered Mexico and Latin America for nearly a decade. You can follow him across social media at @alibaverstock.

The post Violence so commonplace that an unknown disease is a serious worry appeared first on Mexico News Daily

The route winds its way through the mighty cones of defunct volcanoes, now covered in avocado groves which thrive in the rich igneous soil. Along this route sits the town of Aranza. There’s not much more to it than a strip of houses straddling one of the few straight sections of the road.

Today, avocado is big business, but that has only been the case for the past 20 years.

Previously, the locals had a different scheme for making a quick buck.

As cars sped through the town, they might suddenly see the emergence of a pig, running at full speed across the road. Too late to swerve, and slamming on the brakes, if the swine tossers hiding behind a wall by the side of the road had timed their throw to perfection, the poor animal would lie thrashing in the middle of the road.

Horrified families would descend from their vehicles to see the animal perish, squealing as only such animals can. Alongside them would appear the owner, concealing his satisfaction at his well-executed ploy, for it was he and an accomplice who had heaved the animal into the path of the speeding car.

Sidling up alongside, amid the confusion the Aranza native would confront the driver with the immortal line:

“Pagas puerco; o chingas madres.”

You pay for the pig, or you get a beating.

 It would take a cool head in such a situation to argue. And while some might have paid whatever sum was demanded on the spot, others argued over ownership of the pig. With enough space in the car, the expiring porker might happily be loaded in next to the kiddies.

A life’s traumatization, but a year’s worth of bacon.

Those days of the swine ruse are long gone, but the legend remains.

Today in Michoacan, where cartel violence is infiltrating the avocado industry, bloodshed is a daily occurrence, and human life is not valued as before.

With an ongoing cartel war for control of Uruapan, the Jalisco New Generation Cartel is moving in on turf historically controlled by Los Viagras, gangsters from Michoacán. It’s coming down hard on locals. Business are extorted, civilians murdered and there’s no response from the local authorities.

One local avocado producer told us how a group of armed men, fully dressed in combat tactical gear and carrying high-powered rifles, presented themselves in his orchard in the name of the Jalisco organization.

Their leader carried a full rundown of his recent harvest. How many tonnes he had produced, how many workers had been on his land, how many truckloads of avocado had arrived at the processing plant, and finally, how much he had earned.

He was given three days to deposit US $10,000 in cash under a nearby road sign. Twelve hours later, the farmer put the cash where it had to go. He knew the consequences otherwise.

Those who have refused the gangsters’ demands have been murdered. Members of two of the longest-established avocado producing families have lost their lives.

In times of such brutality, the urban legend of “Pagas Puerco” is now looked back upon fondly, as a simpler and happier time.

Alasdair Baverstock is a freelance foreign correspondent and reporter for CGTN who has covered Mexico and Latin America for nearly a decade. You can follow him across social media at @alibaverstock.

The post An urban legend from Aranza, Michoacán, when times were happier appeared first on Mexico News Daily