...continued
Storm
Lake already is building Santa Rita. A third to half
the income earned by Latino workers here goes back to
families in Santa Rita. The money builds houses and
streets, buys cars with Buena Vista County plates
parked around the cobblestone streets. The money from
Iowa buys much: a great meal in Ayotlan costs $2. A big
house $5,000.
Despite
the exodus, Ayotlan County is growing at about 2% every
three years.
There
are 10 firefighters for a county of 35,000 and 32
towns. They received their first fire truck (1970s
vintage) as a gift from Mexican Rotary two months ago.
The ambulance is shelled out from Waterloo. Family
members can drive it with their loved one in the back
to a hospital in La Barca several miles away.
About 60
police cover the county, six of whom are dedicated to
Santa Rita. Raul Andrade, now of Storm Lake, says the
police have improved in recent years. Ayotlan County
has a new police chief who served in Guadalajara
before. Stories are common, especially in northern
Mexico, of cops on the take. When I think of a Mexican
cop now, I think of Lt. Rudy Vazquez, Officer Friendly
with the guitar.
The
mayor is something of the county godfather. (In fact,
he is the literal godfather of Guillermo Manriquez of
Storm Lake.) People line up outside his office all day,
waiting for the chance to ask for a couple bucks to buy
the day’s propane, or help a friend in need. The
mayor also straightens out property disputes where no
documents exist. The government comes and goes with the
mayor (el presidente), every three years. Soto has 18
months left in his term. Another PAN government
probably will succeed him.
The people eat. The campesinos
(peasant farmers) grow enough corn on five or six acres
to feed themselves. None is left to sell. The cows give
milk, the roosters meat. It is not the poverty of
Cabrini Green in Chicago, or of that exposed in New
Orleans, or the utter desperation of Sudan. It is
quiet.
David
Soto is the son of a campesino. He worked in the fields
at age 12. He was a migrant laborer in rural California
as a young man. Soto returned to the farm, and a friend
told him of opportunities milling chilis in Mexico
City. It took him eight years of non-stop work to get
his head above water. Soto persevered and became a
success. Now he owns the hotel in Santa Rita, which
used to be his house, the 22-year-old waterpark that
makes good money, the gas station in Ayotlan, and other
businesses. He is a self-made man.
Of
course, some view him with suspicion. He tells about a
dispute with the campesinos over hot water springs near
his waterpark. Each claims ownership. It is hard to
sort out for a stranger with no Spanish skills.
Although he has risen above his native class, Soto, 61,
has invested much in his community. He speaks of his
desire to lift his region out of poverty and
corruption. Soto probably will run for Congress to
convince federal authorities to invest in rural areas.
Many
other people are resigned to their caste. Almost
everyone I met had worked in the United States.
Soto’s top aide, Ayotlan County General Secretary
Moises Delgado, washed dishes for a year in Los Angeles
before returning to Guadalajara for law school. The
young see the US as their only way out of poverty. The
school children dream of attending Buena Vista
University. Others just give up.
Why did
Soto persist in Mexico?
“I
had no other option,” he tells me. “I had
to work hard.”
But why
does not everyone do what he did?
“My
father is an enigma,” David, Jr. says.
It does not appear that
things will get much easier for people in Ayotlan. The
main industry is garment manufacturing. Five years ago
there were 135 shops in the city, each employing about
100 workers. Today there are 60 shops. In 2010, only 10
will be left, one shop owner figures.
Why?
The
Chinese.
They
flood Mexico with garments 50% cheaper than the women
can make on their front stoops.
People
in Ayotlan are sick about it.
“The
quality is low from the Chinese but the people go for
it because it is cheap,” said shop owner Juan
Escoto.
He saw
free trade coming and carved a niche in two lines: wool
overcoats and women’s suits.
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