The short end of the stick

The after clearing the Zocaló with tanks and riot police Friday, the president has shouted la grita to the packed Zocaló.

¡Viva Mexico!
¡Viva independence!

Over 200 years ago, a defrocked priest named Hidalgo cried out the la grita in what many consider the start of the war of independence.

It has been over 200 years of massive brutality and heinous actions by corrupt leaders, of bloody revolutions and coups, of repeated betrayals, of class warfare, of invasions domestic, French, and American, hapless European monarchs and local despots with iron fists. Of lands and resources squandered and sold to foreigners to enrich the revolving door of ruling elites who fled the country when the public could no longer bear the stench. Santa Anna who sold more than 50% of his country to the US. Pancho Villa who raped nuns and turned convents into brothels. Profirio Diaz who murdered thousands of dissidents in a 30 year long Orwellian nightmare. And of course the perpetual and unending suffering and neglect of the Native classes, and of the countryside in general for the Distrito Federal.

Mexico had suffered so much and deserves so much better. For a new year of independence, I would like to see a more egalitarian Mexico, breaking down class lines and class stigmas. I would like to see the population engaged in the political process and holding public servants and politicians to account.

I would also like to see a comprehensive and aggressive water management plan, better maintence of sidewalks, and more incentives to take public trasnsportion, but these are back burner problems (for now).

For my own independence day, I applied for a job, cleaned my room, and did some shopping. I picked up a ridiculous campesinos sombrero and some festive Mexican flags and decals to hot glue to it, and ate a really delicious chile en nogada for a late lunch at the market.

I spent the night hanging out at the apartment with K and her friend who is having a spat with her boyfriend and crashing here for the night. K seems to be the councilor for her many friends here.

Anyway, I drank a bottle of Mexican IPA from Baja (eh), and then worked on a shot of Mescal while watching the fireworks on TV.

¡Viva México!